bunnyykoo

[bunnyykoo]

meraki | jjk (m)

MERAKI (v., Greek). "to do something with soul, creativity, or love; to put something of yourself in your work." Summary: Jungkook finds you irritating; far too energetic and insistent. But his perception of you changes bit by bit, minute by minute, when he's persuaded into spending an entire night with you at places he doesn't know.

➳ pairing: Jungkook x reader ➳ rating: 18+ ➳ genre: e2l, grumpy!jk (+ photographer!jk) x sunshine!reader; fluff, smut ➳ warnings: bickering, bantering, jk is a bit rude at the beginning, flirting, tension, oc is bold and courageous, mention of someone being stoned, mention of insomnia, jk's lip rings <3, heights, not exactly e2l but more like "i find you pretty annoying" to lovers lmao, deep talks and sweet moments, one bed trope, guest appearance, jk takes pictures of pretty things, stars and sky talk <3, explicit sexual content: kissing/making out, implied pain kink? lol, fingering, manhandling, oral (f. & m. receiving), teasing, 69, spitting, one or two spanks, bit of choking, soft and hard sex, unprotected sex (oc has an iud), soft dom!jk but also glimpses of sub!jk, ofc biiiig dick!jk, doggy/riding/missionary, praises, more flirting, jk's godly body, masturbation, cum swallowing (he comes in her mouth); the lovely ending <3 ➳ word count: 26.6k <3 ➳ a/n: you guys built this fic!! 🥺 hopefully this is what we expected it to be. it's also yet another love letter to one of the gentlest men i know; happy birthday, jeon jungkook, you're the standard and i will never fall out of love with you 💕 i hope y'all enjoy it!! come and talk to me when you're done mwah <3

TAGLIST | MASTERLIST | WIPs

1:04AM, Her

There’s a word for how you do what you do.

A term you hold dearly in the crevices of your bright heart. Ever since you first learned its meaning two decades ago, you’ve made it your primary goal to breathe through life with it as your philosophy.

Passion, it is. A word certainly common in conversation and daily life — you’re not the only person to live by it. Doesn’t mean you’re not allowed to wallow in it.

Because there’s a fire behind your hard-working chest, lit up, pride residing next to it. It’s where you feel the most vivid light when you do what you love, blooming and blossoming. There are synonyms of it you know, and each of them are pretty as a growing garden.

You gatekeep them for now; haven’t yet found a person to share your knowledge with. Which is okay; in the meantime, you’ll keep looking. You do think everybody needs something like this in their lives.

Something that forces your body upright, sprinkling fairy dust and glimmer into your eyes. Something you can resort to in order to escape the trials of life.

For you, as odd it may seem to people, it’s your job.

You usually work late like today, surrounded by sounds and disquiet. But you enjoy it. You like stepping into the night afterwards, and you like the dark blanket above, the starlight sprinkled across the comforting blackness.

And you like it when it drizzles sometimes. The giggles of couples or groups of friends as they wade through the rain. The absolute quiet and relieving serenity.

You live for this. You enjoy people. You enjoy sensing life around you.

Tonight isn’t different. Even when you find yourself hastening by the end, wrapping up the event with a dozen chores to tackle; even when the host rushes to you, asking for help. Your shoes click-clack across the floor as you move left and right, up and down.

But by God, you never doubt these days’ worth.

1:04AM, Him

Sometimes, people don’t want to be photographed.

Jungkook learned that early on when he agreed to be a photographer at events. He’s encouraged and urged to ask people to pose; that’s his job. Waiting for them to force a smile before they can resume eating, debone their fish or work on their lobsters, beef, veggies.

They long to return to whatever they were doing, or to their conversations, mostly insignificant ones; Jungkook knows because he, involuntarily, hears too many of them. 

It’s only when they’re dancing or drinking that they open up. That’s when they’re okay with listening to him, obedient, almost as if he’s authority, staring into the lens with flushed cheeks and wide grins.

Though it’s irritating when every other person walks up to him afterwards, inquiring when they’d be receiving the photos, or, even ruder, if at all.

Today, there are a few more comfortable people around. Not as harsh, not as grim as he feels. You’re here, too, somewhere; of course you are — you got him here in the first place. Somehow, your paths often cross. You were ready for a picture immediately, drawn in by the host, smiling.

He perceived your presence just for a second, though. Doesn’t need or want any more than that. You’re too loud, too energetic anyway; he’s rather among himself, not in any photo, indulging in the job.

He loves clicking through his camera roll; it’s the people that tire him out. Working his way through the pictures he took once home gives him joy, though. Makes his fatigue feel worth it.

But God, you’re not the only one, right? So many people here are the same amount of enthusiastic, party people to the core. 

Which is why he’s happy when the night finally concludes, and he, far after midnight, stuffs his equipment back into his bag and slips into his at least somewhat chic blazer.

1:12AM, Her

You groan as your hand dives into your bag, fishing out the key that you already removed from your keychain an hour ago. Back when the man facing you approached you; he’s the last face you see when you step out of the somewhat stuffy hall.

Or so you think.

You don’t know that the night is far from over when you linger at the entrance, handing him a key that he encloses in his grip with a grateful nod and a goodbye-wave. The final interaction when you excuse yourself, breathing in the night.

It’s a hunch cooler than when you left home today; yet, the breeze feels pleasant caressing your skin. The end of August is still warm, still fairly far from fall; you regard summer nights as the best part of the season.

Sighing, you come to a halt in the middle of the pavement, studying the alley. You ponder until you remember a bus not too far from here; you need to turn left, right? Should be there. You have never been around here before, so you’re not entirely sure.

But you’ll just go with your first instinct for now. Keep walking until you detect any kind of a promising sign. You hold onto your roomy bag as you pass the rare people still around.

Some of them are faces you recognise from the party; some are strangers. One couple you spoke to just earlier even lifts a thumbs up for you, praising you for the exceptional organisation. They make you feel at ease until the road quietens.

And the place stays serene and silent until you hear the clearing of somebody’s throat. It’s not near; yet not far. Your eyes scan the area, not for long when they recognise a figure sitting on the opposite side of the narrow street.

It’s a man, clutching a heavy object with careful hands. A camera, you know it immediately. He’s hunting through the pictures he took, face slightly lit by the screen. Jutting lower lip, slowly blinking eyes.

Simple attire — dark jeans, a white shirt, and a blazer on top that hides the wide shoulders.

Constantly and undeniably handsome, albeit always grim due to the lack of a smile.

You squint to confirm it’s him you’re seeing; but when he smacks his lips in the dark of the night, nibbling at the shiny lip rings, you know you’re right. This is a habit you’ve never seen on anybody this persistently as on Jeon Jungkook.

And the one and only Jeon Jungkook must be feeling your eyes on him, because only a second later, he lifts his gaze. Instinctively, you wave a little, but Jungkook isn’t on board with your hospitality. He rolls his eyes; you don’t take it to heart, though. You’re used to this.

As he starts stuffing the camera back into his bag, you waddle over, crossing the street. Upon reaching him, you ask, “Got some good pictures tonight?”

“I’d guess so.”

His voice is as nonchalant as always, his shoulders relaxed, uncaring. To your vampire-novel-reading middle school self, he would’ve been the coolest and most mysterious riddle, waiting to be cracked. But you know how he feels about you, and that makes the situation just a little less intriguing.

Yet, you never stopped approaching him, because aside from conversations like these, you know he’s just human, too. He smiles at events whenever he gets the chance, content with the moments he captures; he likes what he does.

Photography has always been his thing; or that’s what you gathered, at least. You see the same sparkle in his eyes that you feel in yours when you work; the same joy when he fumbles with his camera, always checking, presumably changing the settings, testing it out.

You lean in a little, wondering, “Can I see?”

“Uhm…” He hesitates, lifting the strap of the camera bag higher up his shoulder. ��Do you have to?”

“If I may. I brought you here, remember?”

Of course. It’s always you; you’re the one to organise this, and you’ve seen his pieces and albums before. He might not hang around you too much, always the first to tell you he has somewhere else to be, but you know he’s good. You trust him in this regard.

“You say that every time,” he argues, a tattooed hand settling on his bag, clearly reluctant.

So you click your tongue, waving your suggestion off. You try to sound as lively as ever, but your voice is more earnest as you say, “Okay, it’s fine. Don’t show me the pictures, but come on. Be a bit nice at least.

“Alright. What else? Do you need something?”

You sigh in defeat. “No. I was just going home.”

“You should go home. It’s pretty late.”

“Aren’t you going, too?”

“I am,” he responds, his voice going up at the end. “I just wanted a bit of peace before leaving.”

“Peace,” you repeat, as if trying out the word. “You can’t get it at home?”

Jungkook doesn’t answer this time. Instead, he only shifts his stare from you to the empty road ahead, exhaling a dramatically long breath before he gets into motion. You immediately react, by his side until he asks, “Are you following me?”

“Huh? Did you forget that I was literally heading this way?” He’s distracted, looking for the street signs, and you laugh at his own confusion. “Do you even know where you’re going?”

“I guess so.”

Okay, at least he’s honest, not giving himself airs. You want to see what his inner compass suggests, but then somewhat shun the thought of walking further into unknown terrain.

So you question, “You taking the bus?”

“Nope. Subway.”

“Ah. That should be this way, then,” you nod towards the direction you’re approaching, “I know the bus is, because that’s where I need to go.”

“…Are you sure?”

“Yep.”

That’s it. He doesn’t respond much; only lets out the millionth sigh, following you with something you might nearly call trust. He doesn’t attempt small talk or any other kind of interaction, so you let him sink into his thoughts.

But a beat of silence later, you still ask politely, “How did you like the party?”

“Uhhh, it was okay.” For the first time in minutes, he looks at you. “The people were weird, don’t you think? But I got some good shots in.”

“Hmm… okay. I didn’t notice anything weird about the people.” You shrug your shoulders. “Talking about shots… did you drink a little?”

He whines your name as the question is a tale as old as time, complaining, “Every single time? Why is this so important to you…” He waits, shakes his head. “No, I didn’t. Seems you did, though.”

“A little,” you say, bringing your forefinger and thumb together, indicating a tiny space. “But I’m all sober and well.” Another brief pause. “Are you okay, too?”

He licks his lower lip, dimples appearing that don’t ever need a smile to emerge. Then, he throws back, “Why shouldn’t I be?”

“Dunno. You always look so bored at parties. And you always go home alone.”

You don’t know if the following laugh is sarcastic or not, but you soon discover the very answer when he lifts a finger and counts, “First off, how would you know?” Another finger added to the mix. “Secondly, I’m not bored. I’m just focused. And I don’t know anybody there.”

His hand drops again, working on his bag’s strap again. Pushing it over his shoulder. He adds, “It’s a bit different for me than for you because they’re literally your clients and you know them at least a little.”

“I mean… you know me.”

“Yeah, but you’re…” He regards you from head to toe, not the softest of expressions, and you pout. You don’t ever take him seriously, but he can be hurtful sometimes. “I just don’t think we’d be good conversation partners.”

“Weird,” you challenge, “because you’re conversing with me right now, no problem. It’s also not my fault you always argue with me at every event.”

“I don’t. You approach me.”

“You do.” You lean your face closer to his, not making it very far when his palm pushes your cheek, and you, away from him. “Ugh. Okay. Seriously, though — why do you always leave alone?”

He exhales in defeat. Seems that Jeon Jungkook is too tired to take your idiocy tonight. You understand, but you’re just trying to figure out how to convince him that you’re normal, too. That he just dislikes you because you’re different from him, and nothing else.

“Hey…” he utters, out of energy.

“I mean it,” you still declare, “there are so many sweet and nice girls around. They ask about you sometimes, you know? I’ve also met many men on such pa—”

“That’s great,” he interrupts, a palm stopping you from spilling more info, “but… I don’t think I’m interested.”

“Oh.” The syllable is short, cut, harmless. That is, until it clicks in your brain, and your eyes widen, lips parting as you turn to him in shock, stating, “Oh, wait. Do you… play for the other team?”

Jungkook blinks at you. Then lowers his gaze, turning it a couple shades darker, staring at you from under his eyelids. He looks annoyed when he spits, “No, I’m not gay. And even if I was, it’d be none of your business.”

Shit.

Okay, you were sure about your assumption, but now that it turned out wrong, this sounds pretty shitty. And annoying. And awkward.

“Sorry,” you apologise, and he gives you a taunting head tilt. “Okay… different topic then? Tell me, what do you think of this dress?” You lift the hem a little, smiling; you were convinced the moment you first saw it. “Do you think I look pretty today?”

For a second, he joins; his initial gaze is still cynical, but his voice is appealing, a whisper when he leans in and asks, “Why? Do you want to be the one I go home with?”

Ah… why do the words, the way he speaks them, tickle you just right? You’re flabbergasted, seeing your reaction on the bare skin of your arms, but all he does is back away again and once again, shake his head.

You want to retort something snarky back, but you don’t get to it when he inquires a moment later again, “Are you sure we’re going the right way?”

Right… you need to go home. You forgot.

“Uh… yeah.” You look around, finally detecting a sign, picturing a bus and a number. “There’s the bus, so the subway should be…” You stop; hum; then see two women waiting at the bus stop. “Should we ask someone?”

“Sure.”

With a nod, you separate from him, walking towards the bus station bench they’re sitting on, hands folded, conversing quietly. They’re surprised when they see a figure advance, but relax when they catch your smile.

You ask the questions floating in your brain, trying to explain where you live, what you need. They attempt an answer, gesture around, and barely a minute later, you’re thanking them and leaving again.

Jungkook stands there in anticipation, waiting for you to deliver good news — yet confused when you return with slumped shoulders instead of an enthusiastic, “We were right! Come!”

Okay, there aren’t too many reasons for Jungkook to dislike you; you want to say this much. But when you see him understand that this is going nowhere, you do get his frustration.

Especially as you kiss your lips, staring at him like a lost bunny, and explain, “So… the subway isn’t here.” Big eyes meet yours. “I’m not sure where it is, and they,” your thumb points to the girls behind you, “couldn’t help because they’re tourists.”

“Ah. Great,” he says, delivering a falsely cheerful smile. Hands thrown into the air. “So we’re stranded and should definitely not be here. What about the bus? Where does it go?”

“Uhm…” You scratch your head. “Not where I need to go. It’s a different one. But!” Immediately, your voice rises, trying to approach this with hope. It’s not the end of the world, after all! “Don’t worry! We’ll get home either way.”

“Just a lot later than necessary.”

“But nothing’s lost yet. Don’t you trust me?”

And — much as you thought — Jungkook only ogles back in silence, blinking once again before he walks away with a curse on his lips.

1:25AM, Her

You catch up to him fast.

“It’s not that big of a deal, I promise!” you vow, but you reckon it only makes matters worse.

Because he breathes air through his nose, like a bull, arguing, “I’m tired, though. This is wasting so much of my time. You always do.”

You stop in your tracks. He doesn’t. You sulk, “That was mean.”

“And you’re idiotic.”

“Well… shit.”

This time you tilt your head, grinding your teeth; less out of anger, more out of embarrassment. You don’t respond much else, and he doesn’t throw another insult. Instead, he opens the bag again with the velcro’s ripping sound, heaving out his SLR. 

You peek over his shoulder, confused about the timing to indulge in a passion, and ask, “What are you doing with that?”

“Looking through them,” he mutters, thumb working on the switching button, “maybe I took a picture when I came here. A sign where to find the subway.”

His reasoning elicits a sudden laugh out of you, probably unfounded to him, but very amusing to you. He throws a bewildered and somewhat warning look, and you immediately silence; still holding yourself back when he turns away again.

You wait, listen to the quiet of the night. He doesn’t seem to find any success, and the more time passes, the funnier you find his mind. Eventually, you step next to him and give up, telling him, “Hey.​ Don't be so tetchy. I'm not that bad.”

Jungkook side-eyes you, tapping the screen of the heavy Sony A9 Alpha. Inhaling the pleasant late summer air, he defends, “I'm never tetchy! But you got us lost.”

“So? You’re being dramatic. There's still Google Maps.”

That’s it. This look of his.

Jungkook must’ve gotten stuck in a decade you’ve long left, because he stares at you dumbfounded, camera still firmly in his hands. He tongues his cheek, blinks.

And then, you mock, “Guess I’m not the only idiot here, right?”

His next breath is deep, and he soon averts your eyes again. You dig, “What? If anything, then low battery might be your only excuse, you know?”

He doesn’t look at you, and you break into a grin again. Shake your head. Then fish out your phone at last, ready to type in the goal, or at least, to search the nearest subway and bus that fit your demands.

Hmmm, okay. If you need to go where you think you need to go, then the subway will really be in immediate distance to the bus. So you’ll be heading in the same direction anyway.

You open your mouth to ask for his address, prepared to type it in — but as you look at him again, you detect a deeply focused Jungkook, pursing his lips at his camera and regarding it with glitter in his eyes. You see it even from here, the sparkle.

Maybe he’s waiting for you to deliver a conclusion, because you catch him moving through older pictures in the meantime. From here, you only see glimpses. Of forests and roads, and then of waterfalls. Even some of him and his friends.

He doesn’t notice it, but his eyebrows are much more relaxed now, expression not quite as steely anymore; and his lips even twitch for a tiny second, tempted to smile. As if he forgot where he’s currently standing.

You let your arms sink, both hands holding your phone, and just gaze for a while. Then move your eyes to the side. To the sky. Remember places you’ve seen and loved in this town. Still hear his harsh tone echoing in your ears.

In hindsight, you really don’t think you've ever personally hurt or offended him. He might’ve been annoyed by something else. Perhaps he was dealing with something that he never dared to speak about; or perhaps, his perception of optimism is warped, because he clearly doesn’t wade through life with it.

You’d like to see his real self, though. The real self, because your gut feeling whispers to you that this isn’t him. Maybe there’s a kind and kindred soul hidden somewhere; maybe his smile proves far more intriguing to you than these mysterious moods of his. Once it appears, that is.

But…

He’ll probably say no. Your idea isn’t dumb, you’re certain, but he very likely will not go with it. But you want to try. Want to show him that you’re not as bad, that he can trust you; want to know what burdens him; or why he talks to you like this.

You might be the only one to wish for more time with somebody who wants to avoid you like the plague.

Yet…

You don’t want this to end just yet. 

So you drop a suggestion that surprise even you—

“…You know what? Let’s try something fun tonight.”

“Excuse me?”

He voices it with his attention only half on you, not quite taking you seriously; so you swallow to dampen your throat and speak firmer, suggesting, “You need to trust me on this, though.”

This time, he does look at you. Works on stuffing his camera back into his bag, opening his mouth to retort something, but you stop him with a shushing finger that he doesn’t look too happy about.

“Hold on, okay?” you exclaim. “Listen. Are you busy tomorrow?”

“Uh… not until the afternoon.”

“So you can sleep in.”

“I guess.”

You clap once, loudly and dramatically, watching the man in front of you flinch. You can’t say if he’s irritated, shocked or terrified of you. But he looks hilarious like this, blinking, scowling as his fingers clutch his bag tighter.

“What is it?” he asks as if you’ve lost your mind.

“Look. Let’s not leave yet. Fuck Google Maps,” you suggest, and his eyes grow wider by the second, baffled, as if you’re caging him. “Let me show you pretty places until the sun comes up, and if you still hate me by then, I will never talk to you again. Isn’t this tempting?”

In your head, it is. Not for yourself, but for him. In your mind, he thinks of you as a constant nuisance that stands in his way, hopping around like an overhyped puppy.

Or not. Maybe he has a dog at home; maybe he regards you as worse than cute puppies.

Whatever.

You look at him expectantly, like your persisting stare could help him land a decision. Instead, however, he grimaces, his voice higher when he asks, “What even are you sa—”

No, you won’t give up yet; even if the recurring interruptions make him tear his hair out. You click your tongue and then argue, “Come on! Give it a try.”

Hesitation. Or rather, a question wondering if you’re crazy. Clear rejection. Are you losing?

“We’d be together, so nothing to fear,” you try further, “and how much time is there till sunrise?” You glance at your watch. “It’s barely half past one. The sun comes up in less than five hours. And like, I know it sounds like a lot, but if you give me some time, I’ll give you reasons to smile.”

He keeps looking at you in this questioning, are-you-fully-mad-manner, but you’re absolutely serious and you need him to know. You bat your eyelashes a little, offering your best laugh, and add, “Like this? If you really want to hate me after that, then okay. If not, then… maybe we could go get coffee someday.”

You’ve spoken enough. He raises a hand, quieting you down, and then finally says it.

“You must be crazy.”

“I am,” you confirm.

“You think I’d do this, huh?”

“…Maaaybe?”

“No.”

Jungkook’s answer is stone cold and direct, and it shuts you up with a near-wince. There’s a faint line between his thick eyebrows, lips pressed together; he looks dangerous and very, very mean.

So you don’t say much for another minute, following when he walks away. You side-eye him, notice him type his destination into his phone. Surrendering, you trudge the path he chooses, soon detecting signs leading to the subway.

He can’t say anything to your presence by his side. Even if his answer remains a steadfast, boring no, you’ll have to go in this direction anyway.

More than halfway through, you venture into a conversation again, “Have you ever tried anything like this before?”

“What? The nonsense you suggested?” he asks, and you nod, catching up with his long legs, slightly slower with your heels. “No. I don’t think I need to.”

“You’re so… don’t you ever try anything new?”

“I mean, is this your definition of something new?” He gestures at your surroundings haphazardly. “Going through town in the middle of the night instead of getting some decent sleep?”

You shrug your shoulders, defending, “It’s not like I do it every day. And nothing one can do every day anyway. That's why I want you to try it.” Your voice is soft, friendly. “But you don’t have to.”

He doesn’t answer; only comes to a halt when a bus stop nears, peeking up to the sign with the number before he asks, “That yours?” You hum in confirmation. “Okay. Will you get home well? It’s late.”

“Yeah, of course,” you pout, kicking off a tiny stone with your shoe, “done it a few times.”

He stalls. You don’t know why, but you’re sure he does. You notice it in his slow movements, the brief pause, the way he looks to the subway he needs to approach and then back to you. You smile when his eyes linger on you for a moment too long, and then he tilts his head, sighs.

“Alright. Then… good night.”

And that’s it.

You tell him to sleep well in return, earning a tiny nod, and then he’s leaving you stranded, walking away. Your eyes stay on him until he’s out of sight, down the escalator to the subway and far, far away from the fun idea you conjured.

You mimic his sigh. Take the two or three steps to the bench under the bus stop; and then you wait.

At this time, public transport operates irregularly, so you’re not surprised when you’re still there minutes later. For a while, you remain alone — that is, until a stranger tumbles to you, swaying before he takes a seat on the other edge of the bench.

You don’t look at him; don’t want his attention on you. But to your discomfort, he garbles just a second later, “This the bus to…”

He gets a hiccup, pointing to the bus sign, and then mumbles the name of the station he needs to reach. You don’t understand, however, so you prod, “What?”

Slower now yet similarly slurred, he repeats his question, but this time, you understand and nod your head yes. He overshares, “It’s just that I’m drunk, so I need to be sure. Sorry for interrupting.”

Suddenly, you feel kind of sorry for him. Your shoulders relax; you observe him letting his arms dangle between his legs, sniffling, incredibly exhausted, it seems. What did the fella experience tonight?

You respond, “It’s okay. It’s really late. Get home well.”

“Thanks. You’re very nice.”

The same finger previously signalling to the sign now points at you; but he doesn’t touch you. In fact, his digits are still a good distance away, already falling when you feel a hand on your elbow out of the blue; you nearly react on intuition, getting into position to break somebody’s nose.

But when your eyes meet the other man’s, you recognise him as the same figure standing tall that abandoned you a couple minutes ago. His hand is still grasping the camera bag strap, and he looks calm, confident when he speaks—

“All good? Sorry, I left for too long, right? Let’s go.”

Your voice changes, a chuckle hidden in it when you blurt, “What?”

“You wanted to take a walk.”

And just like that, the snicker dies again. Is he being serious? It seems so; it’s the whole package, even. The nod towards an entirely different direction and the sudden fingers around your wrist, pulling you away.

“Uhm…” you start, feet moving automatically. You turn to the guy drowning in inebriation, leaving a last, “Good luck!” as you wave, smile. Then, to Jungkook, “I thought you went away. Did you want to do this after all?”

You’re cocking an eyebrow, but much at the back of Jungkook’s head, so he doesn’t see. But it seems he hears the tease in your voice, because half-annoyed, half-argumentative, he explains, “No. Just wanted to be a gentleman. I was going to leave the moment you got on the bus.”

Ah. So he was waiting, hiding somewhere? But you don’t mention it; it’d probably just rile him up more.

Yet, you challenge, “You’re lying. You were concerned and you thought my idea was fun after all.”

“Whatever you say,” he says, waving the white flag, probably just to shut you up, “don’t know if I can do this until sunrise, but I can walk with you for a bit. Get you closer to home. And I swear!”

Now he turns, shooting a stare at you over his shoulders, lightning bolts in the middle of his pupils, “If you’re lying and there’s literally nothing special on our way, I’m actually never talking to you again.”

Nothing easier than that.

“Deal!”

“Cool,” he so nonchalantly remarks, finally letting go of your arm, “which way are you heading then?”

“North-east.”

“Good. Works for me.”

The sun is nowhere near up yet; of course not. It’s 1:37AM. Around four and a half hours.

You’re hopeful. In your head, you imagine an uplifted demeanour in no time; try to guess what his smile might look like. A genuine one. Maybe sweet? Maybe cocky? You’ll find out. You will.

So you straighten your stance, clear your throat, sigh a content breath, and step into the night with the courage the stars lend you.

2:13AM, Her

The first almost forty minutes of your night pass leisurely.

Jungkook’s initial sighs cease soon as you advance into the town, walking down a busy main street. You guess the bustling area, the sounds of the traffic and the lights of the flashing cars relieve him somehow. Give him an excuse to not talk to you.

But as the occupied road ends and you reach and pass a crowded square, you’re back in calm and serene alleys. Some people are still wandering around, passing closed shops, much like you.

You attempt conversation every now and then, and Jungkook, having eventually realised that he needs to cooperate with you — he agreed to your idea after all — isn’t as mad anymore.

At some point, he breathes in the late summer breeze, and your head swerves into his direction immediately — maybe the magic of the night has finally reached his core, too. Perhaps he’s appreciating the journey you set out to embark on.

You, for one, cherish the quiet; you know at least this much. The alley must be part of the older corner of the town because the lampposts seem Victorian. They’re fancy, bent at the top, the light a comforting golden.

You do admire the beauty in the dead of night, you do — but the weirdly bruising feeling on your skin becomes uncomfortably apparent the more you walk. Your heels and the Achilles tendons ache, the ball of your feet sensitive to each step.

For a while, you hide the stupid pain successfully, not wanting the night to end; and you do love the heels. Feel just the way those old romcom’s protagonists probably felt, strutting through town with a man whose life they’d change.

But as an involuntary groan slips out of you, Jungkook’s view changes from the old buildings to your struggling self. His eyes settle on your contorted expression before they move further down to your sudden limp.

He asks, “You good?”

“Yeah, yeah! Just been walking for a while, is all.”

“Hmm,” he hums, regarding your heels with a suspicious look. “Do they hurt?”

“Nah. I’m used to them.”

“…Oookay.”

He drags the word, as if in disbelief; and you can’t lie your way through the minutes when the ache worsens, the suddenly paved path too much of a chore. You nearly trip when your heel gets caught between the stones.

Jungkook immediately reacts when you hiss; you’re nowhere near actually falling, but his arms still reflexively jolt, the camera bag swaying and hitting your hand when he catches your shoulders.

“Okay, seriously,” he spits, eyes wide, “that’s enough. You can’t walk in these.”

“I can!”

“Not!” He takes a look around, inspecting the place; it’s quiet here, not too many cars driving by at all. So he points to the edge of the pedestrian zone, instructing, “Sit down there. Let’s see.”

See what?

You blink, but oblige. His pointing finger is dominant, and his eyes urging; you flatten your dress, taking a seat at the edge. The road isn’t high, so it’s a little uncomfortable; but you’re pleasantly surprised when he appears in front of you, crouching.

Very, very baffled when he requests, “Can you take them off?”

“Sure,” you say, unbuckling the straps around your ankles before removing the shoes. You sigh; you must admit, it does feel great. “I’m honestly okay, though.”

Jungkook doesn’t respond, ignores your statement; instead, asks, “May I?”

You don’t understand what he means until his hands come to a float right over your toes; he wants to check for bruises, doesn’t he? You nod curtly; something about this warms your chest. You don’t think you’ve ever seen this side of him before.

Not that you ever had the chance to.

He doesn’t really hate you, does he?

Carefully, his fingers reach for your ankle. The touch is warm and pleasant; doesn’t hurt until he moves his thumbs to your heel. Your feet are overworked; you notice. But rather than the annoying pain, you can’t help but focus on your view.

The big, round nose, hiding the plump, parted lips. His eyes look hooded from here, strands of his hair covering them. Intrusive thoughts plead for your fingers to card through the dark mane; it looks soft, pretty.

And the gentleness he handles your skin with fills you with fondness; you like being cared for.

Even when he shakes his head; pulling you out of your daydream. You take a breath, and then inquire, “You don’t have a problem with touching feet?”

He shrugs his shoulders. “It’s just feet. Besides,” he stops for a second, detecting something at the back of your foot, shaking his head, “Mom used to work as a nurse. Tough job. I massaged hers sometimes.”

Ah… a loving son, a family person. You smile.

“And I thought you have a foot kink,” you tease.

“Shut up.”

“Found anything?”

“Yeah actually. Do you know how wounded your skin is here? Were you wearing new shoes?”

You gulp with a thin-lipped smile, wondering if he’ll kill you now if you tell him. You look to some random spot on your right before you admit, “Yes.”

“God, you…” He clicks his tongue. Puts your foot on the ground cautiously, reaching for his bag. He rummages through it until he pulls out a bandage, holding it in front of you. “You’re lucky.”

You chuckle, relieved and flattered. “I guess I am.”

He puffs out a laugh, but stops it right away, calling your name under his breath before he says, “God, you’re crazy. Be careful. And admit it when you’re hurt. Why didn’t you?”

Well… you didn’t want the night to end—

“I…”

You hesitate.

He works on your other foot just the same, a tender thumb running over your ankle, probably used to the soothing touch. It distracts you. And when he stops and you don’t answer, he puts his arm on his angled leg, staring up at you in anticipation.

“Yes?” he prods.

“I didn’t say anything because I didn’t think you’d care.” Nonchalantly yet pouting, you nibble at your lower lip. “And if I’d told you they’re hurting, you might’ve suggested ending the night.”

He cocks an eyebrow as if agreeing to the most self-explanatory statement ever, nodding as he confirms, “Damn right I would’ve. We should end the night right now if you can’t walk. Not in these, at least.”

Your chest is hot, your stomach twisting a little. Jungkook really does bother; if not due to a connection he shares with you, then simply because he cares for people. Never, you have never experienced him like this before.

With a tilt of your head and a batting of your eyelashes, you suggest, “And if I was barefoot?”

Which he reacts to with a roll of his eyes. “The night isn’t that warm. Don’t do this to yourself. The ground’s dirty, too.”

You take a look at the dark grey pavement upon his argument, much as if the night could allow you to detect any of the dirt he speaks of. Once more, you hum, pretending to contemplate what to do; and when you pick up your heels, suggesting to follow your idea either way, the back of his hand gives your knee the lightest of hits.

“What are you doing?” he asks.

“Watch.”

He does. Watches you place your spacious, black bag on your lap, opening the zip. Observes as your hand dips in, pulling out one pair of sneakers and replacing them with your treacherous heels. He keeps ogling when you put them on, mouth widening bit by bit.

He doesn’t speak until you’re done, socks picked out of the shoes, pulled over your feet, laces tied. You keep smiling, content with the moment, only dropping the grin when you see his puzzled expression.

“What?” you question.

“You had them with you and… Why didn’t you say so sooner?”

Your answer comes without hesitation; whatever timidity he elicited a moment ago slowly fades again. You clear your throat, back to who you are, and dauntlessly admit, “It was sweet. How you took care of me, I mean. I didn’t think you ever would.”

“But you could’ve at least worn them sooner and avoided the hurt?!”

“Well, it didn’t hurt then…”

“You’re…”

Jungkook uprights himself, towering above you. You put a flat palm onto the pavement, wanting to heave yourself up, but soon see a hand in front of your face. He’s offering it; and you’re quick to take it.

Warm and soft; gentle.

As he pulls you up, you land closer to his body than calculated; his face isn’t too far from yours… much nearer than it has ever been. He leans back; looks to the side; blinks. Clears his throat. Lets go off your hand way too late.

The breath you held escapes in a sudden blow. You swallow.

And when you’ve processed the strange moment, you feel the change in your stance. You’re standing taller now; your feet feel heavenly in your Nikes. Dusting off the front of your dress and your ass, you wait for him to say something.

But he keeps standing there on the road, in the middle of a parking space, hands on his hips. He’s judging you; you understand. Your mindset isn’t for everybody. You might seem crazy, alright.

Yet, he doesn’t scold you again. The up and down of his irked voice doesn’t appear this time when he speaks again; instead, his chin nods towards your legs, and he questions, “So you just carry around shoes with you?”

“I need to,” you say, matter-of-factly, “I can’t ride the motorcycle in heels. And!” Jungkook’s mouth opens, but you’re quick to explain. “Before you ask. No, I didn’t hide my bike anywhere. It needs some fixing, so my co-worker took it because he knows someone who’ll do it. And because he owes me a favour.”

“Right… how unfortunate.” He pauses; runs his tatted digits through the hair you longed to touch minutes ago. They look so silky, it makes you sick. His eyes settle on you, intrigued before he adds, “So, you have a bike, huh?”

“Yeah… why?”

“No reason. I do, too.”

“Mmmh,” you voice, nodding to the road ahead to suggest moving. He follows, trudging next to you again. “You didn’t use it today?”

“No…” He pats the camera bag. “Didn’t want to harm my equipment.”

You hum approvingly, fingers entangling in front of your body. You inch closer to his arm, nudging his shoulder with yours before you flash a sugary smile and say, “Thank you. For caring even a little, you know? Even if you’re always like that, it’s nice to see you like this for once.”

“I’m usually like this,” is what he, however, merely answers, accompanied by air quotes.

But you know you’ve gotten through to him at least a little. Melted bits of the frozen parts of his heart that feel so vexed by you on other nights. In truth, you think, there’s nothing but a delicate organ pumping behind his ribcage.

He’s not a robot; Jeon Jungkook is undeniably humane. If anything, then more than most people you have ever met.

And it shows when he looks away, barely able to hide his smile. You see it even from here — that the gesture does something to his eyes. Nearly squints them shut, makes them smaller, more joyful.

You inhale, proud of yourself. Watch as he toys with his lip rings before he asks eventually, “What do you mean owing you a favour, by the way?”

He sounds almost offended. You think he’ll ask about that favour, reprimand you for giving away your bike tonight of all nights. Tell you off for dragging him here, doing something big enough to entrust an entire motorcycle to somebody.

But instead, he continues with a question you never foresaw, “Are you in a quarrel with them? Am I not your arch-enemy?”

You burst into laughter immediately, covering your mouth as the other palm touches his arm. There’s a bulging bicep under his blazer, but you’ll focus on that later.

Right now, you’re fairly occupied by the satisfied eyes; he doesn’t really expect an answer. He wanted to make you laugh… Why does that set something loose in your brain?

“Oh… are you jealous? What if I told you it’s somebody else who occupies my mind at night and not you?” you wonder, wiggling your eyebrows.

“Don’t do this to me. I’ll find your co-worker and fight them for your enemyship. Word of honour.”

“It’s enmity. And stop flirting with me,” you tell him, moving towards him again, shoulder hitting shoulder. “Or is it something else with arch-enemies?”

This time, he doesn’t veil his grin. It’s bright, pretty, reminiscent of the light shed on you underneath the lampposts. And his pupils; whenever you see them clearly enough, you recognise the sky in them. Borrowed stars inside.

You shake your head a second later, winding down from your fit of laughter, and tell him, “You’re not my arch-enemy. Arch-enemies don’t exist, and you know you aren’t one. You just…” You stall, your voice quieter now. “You just regard me as one.”

He throws you an indecipherable look. Hints of joking, shreds of seriousness, you think. His gaze drifts back to the path again, regarding a passing group of three friends briefly. His hands slide into the pockets of his jacket, and he sniffles once before he utters—

“No, I don't.”

Ah. Ah.

Why do your eyebrows relax the way they do? And your shoulders; already in ease, yet they seem to fall in relief. You peer at him wordlessly; he doesn’t demand an answer, fully aware you’re looking at him.

And you don’t ask what you’ve been to him ever since he saw you at the first party probably a year ago; what irked him, what delighted him. If he thought about you at all.

Instead, you look at the neon words in the next street, asking, “Are you hungry?”

2:19AM, Him

You’re irritating to the core.

You always have been. But he’d be lying if he didn’t admit you amused him a little. No matter how much you’ve been wasting his time, you allowed a smile in this ill-lit night. Nobody else at the party did — so in some sense, you’ve already won, and somehow, he’s even grateful.

Grateful that you’re optimistic about the world at least. Glad that you suggested fetching food. Endeared by the way you thanked him for his care. Surprised that you ride a motorcycle! Relieved that you have good humour.

Even though his own humour and smile dissipate after you enter one of the few open stores still providing late night snacks. The girl behind the counter looks tired, but straightens a little when the two of you flash a polite smile.

She greets with a sweet, “Hi!” but Jungkook sees the lethargy in her drooping eyes immediately. Poor girl.

But you’re as enthusiastic as ever; maybe a little more now, maybe observing the same as him. You put your hands on the counter like a child — the image is somewhat cute. But what comes out of your mouth is not.

“Uhm… Could I have a portion of cheese tteokbokki, please? And then… A half and half corndog for my husband.”

Your… what now?

Excuse me?

Jungkook throws an immediate and scorching look your way, utterly surprised. When you meet his eyes, his thick eyebrows are closer than anybody’s ever seen. He huffs your suggestion away, and then corrects, “I’m not her husband. And I’ll take the chicken wrap.”

You chuckle, leaning into him, shielding your mouth with a hand as you warn, “They’re not usually very good at this store. Trust me.”

“I know what I’m doing.”

Right. He does. After the disaster of finding the damn bus and the deception caused by your shoes, he won’t trust you very easily anymore. His opinion clearly differs from yours, so he’ll bank on his gut feeling.

Satisfied when you shrug, as if to indicate, “If you say so,” he walks over to the window seats with you in tow, looking out to the peaceful streets. Once seated, he turns towards you, peering until you notice and ask far too purely, “What?”

“Not even your boyfriend, no… Jumped straight to making me your husband, huh?”

The lift of your shoulders brushes his concerns aside; your eyes are incredibly innocent and even somehow playful when you say, “I thought it’d be fun.”

“Was it really?”

“Well, your reaction was funny, at least.”

Jungkook rolls his eyes in disbelief. You’re courageous, he must admit. Social anxiety must fear you — is that how you live life? Unabashed, spirited, not a sheer care for anything that won’t actually hurt you.

He doesn’t know if you’re insane or if he’s jealous.

But he still reiterates, “You’re crazy. And it was embarrassing.”

“I mean,” you say, moving on your chair, folding your fingers on top of the counter but still looking at him, “it was embarrassing because you made it. It’s honestly whatever.” You blow a raspberry, and then take a swing again, “Why is it awkward anyway? We’ll never be here together again.”

He whispers a hushed, “Thankfully,” and you tap the counter with a click of your tongue. He gets it; you live differently. That’s fine. As long as you don’t pull him into your mischief, it’s fine.

Right?

He’s right, isn’t he? He knows that in his personal opinion he is; yet, he can’t help but feel that sting, suddenly deeming himself as boring. You’re never bored, are you?

Anyway…

“Even if you do something like this again,” he tells you, “at least tell me.”

“I mean, that would kinda prevent your genuine reactions from happening, but… if it makes you happy.” You grin at him, and he scoffs; wants to say something before the girl calls for you. “Food is ready.”

A couple seconds later, the two of you have settled back into place; at the sight of the snack, Jungkook salivates. He didn’t realise how hungry he actually was. The buzz and fuzz of a party makes one forget such an essential thing fast.

Or maybe, he was just immersed in his work.

The chicken smells good, at least. Or are these your tteokbokki? He can’t quite discern the scent right now; his mind is fogged by his appetite. Silently, he unwraps his food, swallowing before he digs into the wrap.

So far, so good… seems edible. He keeps chewing; swallows some more. But as the taste starts to sink in and he realises the sogginess of the wrap, the lack of proper sauces and the dryness as well as the blandness of the chicken…

He pauses. Where… are the flavours?

Slowing down, he glances at his meal. Inspects it as if he’s holding an entirely new recipe in his hands. A look of realisation creeps upon his face, unaware of your gaze, and he soon hears an amused snicker from the side.

You don’t say much when your eyes align. Only, “And?”

He knows he’s already lost when his expression changes, cringing; when he can’t answer right away, only gaping at you in confusion. Still thinking about where this recipe went wrong.

He answers, “It’s fine…”

But you catch his obvious lie; he sees it in the way you smile so devilishly. Cocking an eyebrow, enjoying another bite of your snack without ever averting your eyes. Then, you put the tiny wooden fork back into the dish, propping your cheek on your fist.

You wait; he doesn’t know what for. For him to eat again? Maybe; because you soon ask, “Do you want something else?”

“Nah.” His answer is instant this time. “I can do this. I’m an omnivore.”

“Ah, yeah. An omnivore friend right here.” You laugh, curious when he takes another bite. And then, “Jungkook, it’s okay to admit…”

But he won’t listen. Only makes a disapproving sound, stuffing his mouth with another horrendous bite. Shit; he can’t confess that you were right. That you were actually right this time.

Suddenly, he’s craving a cup of ramyeon.

But he should keep eating. Wash it down with his drink, empty the soda. And he’s almost halfway through when he notices a movement from your direction, like you’re playing with your food.

Only, he realises that you are not; rather separating the tteokbokki in two halves before shoving the porcelain dish towards him. He shakes his head, but you persist, “Take it, man.”

It does look good…

But… are you going to use the satisfaction his defeat may give you? Probably. But fuck… Fuck it.

Reluctantly, he lets the wrap fall onto the small plate, gulping down the remainder of what he just bit off, and then, accepts your generosity with a nod. And… whether it’s because of the disappointment the wrap brought or the late hunger…

Jungkook thinks he’s levitating above clouds, floating towards the sun.

It’s good. Very damn good.

And when you ask again this time, “Should we get another?” his nod comes promptly, chest risen in satisfaction as he states, “That’d be great.”

“Alright. Be right back.”

“Nah,” he says, lifting an arm as if to protect you. Mid-action, you halt, sliding back up onto your seat. “Stay here. I’ll get it… All good.”

So he does; enjoys the look of surprise when his other hand even carries dessert, four pieces of matcha mochi ice cream. He says, “This is for you.”

You gasp. He can’t deny that it’s sweet — the elation, the big eyes, the palms coming together in delight. How you look between the food and him, suddenly wiggling your feet.

“You seem to like it,” he notes, and you nod feverishly, telling him that, “Yes! Been craving it since we came in. Thank you!”

“Oh. You should’ve told me earlier! We could’ve gotten it. No worries.”

“It’s okay. I wanted to see if my dessert stomach still allowed anything. Didn’t disappoint me today.”

Jungkook gets to his own tteokbokki, halving it in the middle the way you did, pushing it towards you. It’s weird to think about it like this, but — considering how long the two of you have known each other, you might almost look like… friends.

And you don’t feel quite like an enemy either. You’re even… kind of nice. Friendly; harmless.

“I’m glad,” Jungkook responds, only looking towards the entrance when another group of three friends, two girls, a guy, enter. Then back to you, “Sorry. You were right. This,” he points to the poor, sad wrap, “was shit.”

“See? My first instinct almost never lies. And I know this store from other places… the wraps are never good.”

“Sure, but… your first instinct isn’t always right, though, is it? You did get us lost, so it was wrong at least once.”

“Hm… was it, though?”

Jungkook regards you in confusion as you put another piece on your tongue, working on the chewy thing as he asks, “What do you mean? We had no clue where we w—”

“Yeah, I mean. I agree. But… I don’t think it was that wrong. Because—”

You lick your lips clean off the tteokbokki sauce, smacking them. You look child-like, but pretty when you indulge in your element, uncaring about everything, just living. Maybe it’s not that bad that you’re bold.

And maybe, just maybe, he can power through this night easily after all; especially if you keep saying things that soothe his chest, things like—

“Because my first instinct brought me to you.”

2:49AM, Him

The temperatures are falling as the night proceeds, and the second portion of the mochi ice cream adds to the pleasant chill.

Jungkook wonders how you’re doing; your dress is skimpier than his jeans, and your arms bare. But your stance and your speech are still inconspicuous, skin free of goosebumps, your walk elegant, leisurely.

Judging from your occasional hums and your ceaseless optimism, you’re enjoying this journey. It almost makes him feel bad; guilty about how adamantly he refused all this just an hour ago.

It hasn’t been too bad. Sure, you’re bold and intrepid, and yeah, in some ways he is, too — but his courage stems from other motivations. From adrenaline-loaded activities or joyful, temporary pains. Like his tattoos; his motorcycle; the summer he bungee-jumped for the first time.

You’re a different kind of daring; you challenge your limits in crowds and consider life a respectful joke. You don’t ever hurt anyone, he doesn’t think — you just go and see how far you can push yourself.

Perhaps in some sense, the two of you complement each other while simultaneously seeming to be cut from the same wood. Perhaps you’re different, but then again, not so much.

You’re quiet; you weren’t until you left the snack bar. As for now, however, you seem distracted, swallowing heaps of your dessert as you scan the surroundings you’ve led the two into. You’re somewhat unfazed by it, yet peering as though you’ve been here before.

Which, in retrospect, makes sense. You’ve been wanting to show him places you enjoy after all.

When the silence extends, Jungkook, along with the chirping of the nightlife, breaks it with a, “You know what?”

Your head swerves to his side, the wooden fork in your mouth. The pure gaze you give him throws him off guard for a moment — it’s somewhat sweet. But as he regains himself, he says, “I didn’t think we’d get to a housing scheme here. The main street is super close, but the vibe is so different.”

“I know. It’s a little scary at night when you’re alone. Gives very Desperate Housewives, doesn’t it? Secrets veiled behind shut curtains.” You draw closer, imitating a spooky gesture. “But I liked coming here when I was younger.”

Bingo. He thought so.

“Ah… why?”

“My friend lived here,” you explain with a tilt towards a random direction; he doubts the friend lived in just the house you gestured to, “she’s long moved out of course, but we’d play on these streets back then. Most of the neighbours knew me, too!”

Jungkook tsks, hauling his own bite out of the cup, and you add, “No, seriously! We could just knock at anybody’s door here, and they’d let me in.”

“Not if they moved out, too. A lot of time has passed.”

You bob your head. “Time has passed indeed. It does so pretty fast.”

“Doesn’t it?”

You seem to get into overdrive, gearing up; he didn’t think this topic would rev you up like this, but it appears you have a somewhat firm and fond opinion about the passing of time. Jungkook recognises the sentiment before you speak — the light of the lampposts reflects in your eyes like glitter.

Only, he doesn’t foresee what you say next, your tone teasing through the joy you display—

“Yeah! Like. Do you remember when I told you to not get the wrap and you still di—”

“Shut up.”

The roll of his eyes isn’t anything new; but the faint feeling that accompanies it, something akin to amusement, certainly is.

“Okay, but. Seriously,” you start again, sly smirk falling, voice neutralising the mock, “it felt different here. Because like, you know, where I live, it gets crowded. I’m not too far from the city centre, so… this place always felt really peaceful to me. Jieun and I played together a lot.”

Jungkook frowns.

“Jieun?”

“Hm? Oh. The friend I spoke about? She’s pretty cool.”

“Ah… Right, right.”

“Mhmm,” you hum, the end of your small fork tapping the bottom of the nearly finished cup, “you know another way to know that time passes really fast?” You pause for effect, then add, “It’s been ages since we saw each other for the first time.”

“Right. At a party, too, right? When was that anyway?”

“Hmm… Like.” You ponder, blinking, looking up to the sky. “Like two years ago?”

Jungkook’s eyes widen; if you’d asked him, he would’ve estimated a year tops. If he digs in his memory thoroughly enough, he could probably even remember what you wore that day; what you looked like.

It doesn’t feel like two years. You’re right — time truly does pass like the wind.

“Wow,” he exclaims, “it’s been this long since you started pestering me?”

“Shut up,” it’s your turn to blurt, your body swaying towards him until you push him to the side of the vacant road. “I didn’t even come near you most of the time.”

“I know, I know. You were fun to look at, though. Seemed to enjoy yourself every single time.”

Shit, why did he say that? Shouldn’t he hold onto the image he fostered; the one that’s permanently irked by you, throwing snarky remarks throughout the night?

And…

Didn’t this just break the banter, the frenemyship — frenmity? — the two of you have going on? Was it too nice? It’ll probably surprise you. Then again, is he a damn child? Why would he worry about such things? Question his own kindness?

Why would he hold onto his ego and deny you his humane side when you’ve been nothing but lovely to him all night?

The young adult rivalry is over, Jeon Jungkook. Look at her and fucking admit that you’re the arrogant one.

But funnily enough, you don’t seem to notice anyway.

“Hmmm, I do love my job,” you answer, “I have a lot of fun organising stuff. Doing something good for other people, right? See them enjoy it. I mean, of course there are days when things don’t go as planned, but.”

You lift a shoulder, indulging in the final remnants of your chewy mochi and the melted matcha ice cream inside.

“I know. It happens to me, too.”

“Really? How?”

Jungkook waves towards the sky, lists, “Heavy rain, lots of traffic, too spontaneous, issues with the camera… etcetera. Anything can happen.”

“Yeah — I get it. But yeah, I do love doing this. I meet a lot of nice people, too. And I guess that makes me feel very… blessed? It puts things into perspective.”

“How so?”

“Like, it makes you see that most people aren’t bad.”

Huh. Odd. Not that he’d ever deem the entire globe vile, putting a standardised label that he can impossibly prove. But as far as he has seen… too many people aren’t good either.

“Really?” he asks. “That’s a lucky thing to experience.”

You look genuinely surprised, turning towards him when you ask, “You don’t?”

“Uhm — rarely. I do enjoy photography. Always have.” His mind zooms into a glinting memory from the past, and his shoulders and voice rise when he recalls, “Y’know… My dad got me one of those yellow disposable Kodak cameras when I was a kid. I loved it so much.”

You nod; if he didn’t know better, he’d almost say you look… delighted. Actually interested.

“And events and weddings,” he continues, “they’re beautiful to capture. It’s probably the lights and the pretty people. And just… the memories?”

This time, he looks away, straight to the road; if he hadn’t, he’d know that your gaze is definitely fond now. No doubt about it. You listen in closely.

It’s the first time he’s talking to you like this, or to anyone — or for this long, for that matter. Most of your conversations were fleeting, fiery, a petulant back and forth that — he now realises — could’ve been something else, something better, too.

“But then it just sucks when so many of them can’t appreciate it properly,” he explains, raising his hands to emphasise, tone galled. “I mean, I look at my camera and I see a tool to create art. It’s… nothing I take for granted. Just think about it.”

The ball of fire in his chest grows; he feels it warm up, gassed-up. “A thing that can hold onto moments in absolute high definition, so that you can still remember them years later? The 18th century couldn’t have imagined. They needed to commit everything to memory just like that.”

“Wow, Jungkook… You really do love this, too.”

His arms fall to the side. He inhales the fresh flurry of air. Rethinks his passion for his job and says, “Yeah. Yeah, I guess I do.”

“…But?”

He knows what’s missing.

“I love the art, but I hate the clients. The event hosts. Not you, but the one even above you.”

Jungkook reckons this was a confession that long sat on his tongue unmentioned. Of course he thought about it; is always reminded when he attends these functions, standing at the back, at the front, left and right, unnoticed and taken for granted.

But now that it’s out and that he’s finally verbalised it to somebody… it definitely liberates something in his head.

You see his issue with these gatherings; he knows you do because he’s figured out this much. You’re filled with enough empathy, sympathy, every grand word ending on the same syllable to acknowledge his disappointment.

But you’re filled with humour and absurdity, too, evident in the answer you provide to diffuse the tension.

“So, that’s why you’re always in a foul mood.”

“Shu—”

“Shut up, yeah, yeah.” You giggle, but then halt for a moment, toying with the rim of your paper cup, “But you know, I think art is worth something even if just one person appreciates it. If it helps in any way… I’m always impressed. And I always appreciate it when I call you and you come despite finding me so annoying.”

One corner of your lips lifts, the smile humble and light; sends a pang of guilt through him. Have you always been so nice?

“Also, I do see the pictures almost every single time,” you add, “and you’re so good at this. At the job itself and the editing afterwards. Honestly.” 

“…You think?”

Damn.

Jungkook would probably not bask in this hobby, continue his job if he wasn’t proficient in what he does. He’s known about his prowess ever since he was young.

But praises do offer a sense of magical warmth, don’t they? He doesn’t think any creative mind ever sickens of such unexpected support. And the way you say it… makes him want to never lay down his camera.

“Of course, yes,” you confirm, “not to shoot up your ego, but… you once sent a set of pictures where I found one of me. Don’t know if you even noticed? I was wearing that lilac dress and curls, I still remember — and—”

Stuck on the mention of your clothing, he immediately attaches a detail to the memory, “Sleeveless dress. Long silver earrings, right?”

“Oh… right…”

Right.

He won’t mention that he looked at that picture for just a second longer than at the others that night. Noticed for the first time how pretty you were. Not too deep of a thought, a twelve second stare, but… you wore this vibrant smile on that picture, and in some way, he did hope you’d see it, too.

It seems you did. He feels satisfied, proud even.

“Right,” you repeat, your defences somehow down, “uhm. I printed the picture. Still have it somewhere.”

Jungkook has already often wondered what people do with the pictures; put them in albums? Frame them and pin them over their couch? Right now, he also wonders — do you look at it a lot?

And this again begs the question — when you do, does your decision to book a vendor like him fill you with pride? Like your choice was right?

“That’s so nice,” he says.

“All that to say,” you inhale, “that I think you’re really fucking skilled.”

Woah. You weren’t quite certain if your consolation would bring him any solace, but you’ve done far more than that. You’ve shown him that you see what he does — and isn’t this what every artist craves? To be seen?

The tension buzzes between him and you like electricity; he doesn’t know if it’s just him lighting up or if you’re feeling a kindred link, too. But it’s somewhat intense in this moment of walking under the stars, surrounded by quietude and absolute pose.

So much so that he’s soon submerged by an odd urge to make the intensity wane, “Hey, does this feel to you like… a cliché chick flick kinda dialogue?”

You know…

The moment when two find an empty street in the middle of the night, realising that a conversation with each other isn’t the end of the world after all?

That type of thing?

But he doesn’t say any of it.

“Yeah? Maybe. But it’s also true,” you argue, “I’m an honest person and I don’t think I’d say anything I didn’t mean.”

“Ah, yeah?” Jungkook voices, taking the emptied out ice cream cup and throwing it into the bin on the side of the road, along with his own.

“Mhm, one hundred percent,” he hears you say, followed by a light, quiet smacking noise.

He doesn’t see what you’re doing until he arrives back where you stand; watches you lick the sticky rest off the pad of your thumb, smiling when you stare up at him again. It’s a mundane gesture; he’s done it ever since he was a kid.

But somehow, he can’t stop looking.

Might be the way your lips curve when you do it, or how your eyes smile when your mouth does. The authenticity you portray is rare; perhaps he just confused it with madness until now.

Seconds pass, and with that, your smile does, too. As it fades and drops, replaced by a curious expression and big eyes, you soon mutter, “What?”

There’s no response to that, really. He doesn’t know either.

He doesn’t understand how you turned out to be so right. How it’s such an ultimate truth that a serene night brings out a dreamy alter ego, hitherto undetected. Jungkook has never felt like much of a romantic, but right now, he thinks he’s on a different plane of reality.

This doesn’t feel like Earth; and the town doesn’t feel like the one he struts through during the day.

So maybe it’s not that wayward or groundless for him to lean in. To bend a bit more. Further and further until you laugh nervously; he knows you’re preparing to crack another joke, but you remain silent as he approaches.

Gauges your reaction. Will you run? You aren’t.

Instead, you gulp; let your pupils fall to his piercings, just when his own gaze moves to your lips. His right hand, tattooed, led by its own will, reaches for your cheek until he’s cupping it; and suddenly, his mouth parts — what’s happening? — and then—

And then, a vehicle roars from afar.

Both of you hear the motorcycle before you even see the blinding white light; he grips your arm, probably too harshly, dodging the street with you and jumping onto the pedestrian walk.

One must be crazy to still drive through the city at this hour. Right?

You pant, mixed with insane chuckles of relief, “Shit. We almost died.”

“We didn’t,” he refutes, “we had plenty of time.”

“Oh no,” you stretch the last word, eyes squinting. An accusing forefinger points at him before you deduce, “We almost died because you like me. Of all things!”

“I do not. You just looked kinda cute.”

Jungkook might’ve attempted an indifferent answer, but instead, he steered into an excuse that you do not accept at all. Your smirk is telling and satisfied, and if he wasn’t trying to prove a point, your Cheshire Cat grin would’ve made him laugh, too.

“But you did almost kiss me,” you persist.

Ugh, you’re bold. Laughing like it means nothing; no embarrassment, no shy restraint in you. Which is probably not too bad; somehow even charming. Explains the rosy dust on his cheeks at least. He feels it in the heat, can’t believe he almost kissed you just now.

Why does he feel like a hormonal adolescent? It’s not like he’s never kissed anybody.

You’re still enclosed by pure delight, nudging his arm repeatedly, annoyingly. And when he doesn’t answer, choosing reticence instead, you nearly shriek, as if he confirmed all you just said.

His instinctive hand slaps up to your mouth, covering it, shushing you. You’re still smiling, working on removing his palm, but before your nonsense can proceed, a sudden light flickers in the corner of Jungkook’s eye.

Immediately, he seeks out the source, soon finding a room in the house left to him lighting up. You woke somebody, it seems. A silhouette becomes clearer, its edges more refined with every second, and just before the owner of the place can shove the curtains aside, you grip Jungkook’s hand.

Within a moment, he finds himself tugged away by you, running, nearly stumbling over his own feet. You blurt, “Better get away before they kill us.”

As you leave the tranquil settlement behind, Jungkook still hears a voice from an open window, cursing the younger generation as they do; and then, out of the damn blue, a fucking dog barks.

When you turn over your shoulder, mouth dropping open, Jungkook knows you’re thinking the same as him — this happens outside of cinematic universes, too?

It takes a minute until you’ve reached another road again; one of the kind he’s more familiar with. The city type. The two of you come to a halt near some pole, and you let his hand go, leaning against it.

For a moment, you work on catching your breath, Jungkook’s hands settling on his thighs. And then, when your eyes meet, you burst into a fit of laughter, followed by a playful wiggle of his eyebrows to which you respond, “Don’t act innocent. This is your fault.”

“What? You were lau—”

“Because of you! Oh, I know you want me so bad.”

You’re jesting, of course. Swaying your head, poking his chest, a brat straight out of some TV show. But what you can do, he’s been perfecting for years.

So he answers in kind, “And if I did?”

Only for you to utter something that not even his brain can compute.

“If you did? Then… I think I’d let you.”

“Ah… Yeah? Why?”

“Because— I think you’re just half as bad.”

His snicker is half amused, half flattered. He purses his lips, nodding, and then declares, “You’re just a quarter as bad. But guess I’ve gotten so tired that I’ve started doing weird shit.”

You click your tongue, puffing out a breath, instantly reacting when he only flicks your chin and then walks away. Your startled expression prevails, a distance between him and you established, but just as he puts his hands in his jeans, he hears you finally follow.

“Hey,” you voice from behind, tapping his arm, “are you really tired?”

“I was kidding, but. Honestly? A little.”

“…Hmm. You know, my friend lives in an apartment nearby. Jieun? Didn’t move too far from her old home. We could stop there.”

Jungkook’s left eyebrow leaps up, surprised by the suggestion; the idea doesn’t sound too bad. But…

“Wasn’t the deal to go around for a whole night, though?”

“Ohhh. Are you starting to like it?”

You’re observant, he’ll give you that.

“I’m just saying,” he adds, “and also, would she just let a stranger in?”

“Oh, she’s very civilised and hospitable. She wouldn’t mind, and she’s known me for ages. She trusts me.” Maybe you detect the hesitation in his eyes and the twitch of the corner of his lips, because you immediately carry on, “We can just stay for an hour and then go.”

“Would she be awake, even?”

“She’s a night owl. I know that.”

“Uhm…” 

He ponders. In some way, he’s kind of liking the breeze, the quiet side of this town. But… would Jieun find that weird? Then again, can he say no? You’re ogling at him with these hopeful eyes; maybe you need the rest, after all.

“Okay,” he says; he even thinks you jump a bit in joy, nodding.

“Okay! You’ll like her. We can leave with newfound energy afterwards. Okay, cool.”

That’s all you need to lead the way. You look around a little, making sure you’re approaching the right direction, and when you find your confidence again, you march ahead.

Your walk is energetic, not too idle anymore, your beam as dashing and fervid as ever. Jungkook knows his way around editing programs; he’s added wings to pictures before or removed unwelcome passersby on an otherwise great photo.

He even understands how to surround a body or silhouette with a glow; but he’s never seen it around an actual person outside of all these graphics editors before.

Your body is so clearly encircled by it.

Bedazzling.

Screw the 18th century. Even in these modern times of advancement, Jungkook doesn’t think he needs a camera to commit you to memory.

3:25AM, Her

You avert your eyes from the phone and turn towards Jungkook, reaching him where he’s planted firmly in front of the apartment complex. He’s been waiting, back settled against the wall, and as you near, his eyebrows rise in question.

Your friend didn’t respond until now — but just as you foretold, she’s still awake at this ungodly hour.

“Okay. She’s home, but,” you explain, already ringing the bell to her apartment, “she said she’d be leaving soon. Sounds like she’s in a rush. Typos and all.”

Jungkook waits until the buzzing sound of the opening door ceases and you’ve stepped inside, leading him up the stairs, and then wonders again with big eyes, “And she’ll just let us stay? Alone at her apartment?”

You wave his concerns off with a hand’s gesture, “She trusts me, dude. I’ve done this a couple times.”

“What for?”

Hm… you dive back into the old days. Some new, some old. What were they again? They’re mostly blurred, but some of them are carved in your core memory.

“Oh, just…” you reminisce. “If I wanted to meet guys and wouldn’t want to bring them home back when I was still with my parents? Or when I’d need a night to sober up. They would’ve killed me if I’d come home drunk. And Jieun moved out early.”

“How old is… Jieun anyway?”

Old. Not really, but you like to vex her to the point of a pout. She’s patient, but she’s also an incredibly close friend — you allow yourself to be a brat with her and she allows herself to roll her eyes.

“Early 90s kid?” you guess. “A little older than us.”

‘93, as far as you remember.

“Ah. Damn,” he voices; you don’t know why.

“Okay.” You climb the last steps to the second floor, halting in front of a white door with a copper number six on top of it. Knock thrice. “Here goes.”

She might’ve been getting ready close to the door, working on her shoes or questing for her keys. Because she opens mere three seconds later, with a radiant smile on her face able to melt hearts, and a comfortable attire that’s, however, not comfortable enough to wear at home.

A thin sweatshirt and a bun, loose strands framing her pretty face, and shorts that are definitely meant to be worn outside. She won’t be here for long. And you’re focused on this very fact and her hurry so much that you nearly don’t register how shy Jungkook gets.

His voice is somewhat smaller than before when he looks at her; your eyes shift to him, and he’s blinking before he finally breaks and mutters, “Oh. Hi.”

“Hey!” she retorts; she looks so sweet saying it. You understand his perplexity. “Date?”

“Nah. Just a friend,” you answer, which, yet again — very confusing — makes him hum in question. If he started regarding himself as your date all of a sudden, you swear…

You smile.

“Just a friend,” you repeat.

“Fabulous. So you’re not walking around alone, at least,” Jieun concludes, letting you in. In the living room, a hand on her kitchen island, she points through an open door, “Okay, so, the guest room bed is made. Use blankets on it, if you want to rest.”

Her finger shifts to signal to the entrance you came through, imitates a pulling motion, “Don’t worry about locking the door whenever you leave. Also got some leftover food in the fridge, but there’s also cup ramyeon and some frozen pizza in the freezer. Sorry… I need to go shop—”

But you interrupt, shaking your head, “Oh, no worries, really. We just ate, so we’ll just stay here for a little, work off the food coma and leave. Won’t damage anything.”

“I know you won’t, baby.”

She moves to fetch her purse from the couch, and Jungkook uses the moment to whisper in your ear, “Where is she going anyway?”

You don’t know; you shrug your shoulders, pursing your lower lip, but echo his question a moment later, louder than him, “Where are you going anyway?”

Previously cramming in her purse, checking it for content, she looks at you again, telling you, “Ah… Jongsuk is having a bad night and wants me to come over.” Regarding Jungkook, she adds, “My boyfriend. He’s an insomniac and got stoned tonight, too, and just—”

Jieun blows a raspberry, raising a hand for a whatever gesture, and Jungkook mumbles, “Oof. Sounds…”

“Yeah… I know. In any case. Make yourself comfortable, okay?”

“Yes. Thank you so much.”

“Thanks, Jieun,” you repeat.

She nods once more, waving her tiny hand and flashes one last smile before she’s out the door and has left you in full silence. You shuffle your feet for just a second before you look at him again; he still looks somewhat in a daze.

So you ask, “What’s wrong?”

“Hm? Nothing.”

Nothing, right… that’s what they all say after seeing Lee Jieun for the first time. You try not to think too hard about the teeny tiny sting in your enormous, delicate heart. Only let him know, “Don’t worry too much. What could happen? She does trust me.”

You take a couple steps towards the bedroom she offered you, and you hear him follow. Look at the neatly made bed, a thought occurring; but you don’t entertain it yet. Only add, “Besides, she owes me.”

He chuckles. “That’s how you live your life, huh?”

“It’s alright. We’ll just be here for an hour. She’s known me all her life, so nothing to doubt here. And also, think about it,” the tip of your forefinger taps against your temple, “even if something did happen or went missing, she’d know where to find me and whom to report.”

He waits, ogles at you. Then presses his lips together, nods as if you made all the sense in the world, and lifts a shoulder — agreeing, “If you say so. Then uhm — let’s lay down for a bit?”

“Sure! I’ll just sleep in her room, so you can have your privacy here.”

“Mhm. Okay.”

You stand at the door frame for a moment, feet unmoving.

He’s already turned away. And you regret not walking away when you watch him unabashedly take off the blazer and provide a glimpse to his snatched waist as inked fingers scratch his back briefly, shirt moving up. But then it’s covering his skin again.

Flawless back; pretty golden. A little further up, and you’re sure you would’ve seen strong shoulder blades, too. He’s worn fancy dress shirts at luxurious events before — you know many would kill for his built, because you’ve seen his bicep flex before.

You forget where you are for a second, but when he opts to turn, eyes on you for just a heartbeat, you stir. Blurt out an awkward apology, and then leave. Wish him a good night, barely waiting for one back before you close the door.

You laugh quietly at yourself.

Her room is just next door; you already mentally prepare for a nap. Meanwhile, Jungkook plumps onto the bed, groaning when the comfort hits, and works on getting used to the ceiling, if only briskly.

He only notices how much his head is spinning when he closes his eyes, ready to doze off. Should he set an alarm? He doesn’t want to still be here by the time Jieun returns. Maybe he should tell you, too.

But his body won’t move.

Yet, in the time he’s failed to make up his mind, he suddenly hears a knock at the door again. Must be you — must be telepathy.

He tells you to enter, and you do with a shy demeanour; only thirty seconds must have passed, right? A minute, tops. He looks at you in wonder, and you explain, “She uh— locked her room. No clue where the keys are. Guess that’s why she specifically pointed out the guest room.”

You nibble your lip, getting no answer back. He looks just as much out of ideas as you, and you still refuse to bring back the thought from before; yet, you ask, “What do we do now?”

“Well…” He looks around, though there is not much to take in. “I can sleep on the couch?”

“…The couch is too small.”

“Okay. Then I’ll just sleep on the floor.” He’s already working on getting up, no hesitation, scratching through his now messy hair, feet moving on the fluffy carpet. “I’ll take one of those pillows, though. Carpet should be good eno— what are you doing?”

You’ve charged towards the bed, climbed past him until you’re sitting behind him, facing his back and his craning neck. You say, “I’m not giving you that pillow.”

“Why?”

“You can’t sleep on the floor.”

“…Why not?”

You throw an unbelieving look, as if it’s obvious. Your flat hand gestures towards the carpet vaguely, and you argue, “It’s uncomfortable.”

“Listen, I should. This or the couch, nothing else left.” It’s crazy to you how he doesn’t even consider the bed instead of giving it up for you. “It’s just an hour. Don’t worry about it.” He stretches a hand towards you, curling his fingers in a grabby motion. “Come on. Gimme that.”

You’re astonished — beyond pleased about the fact that he cares like this. That he’s so… mindful and humble. You give up; he won’t falter and you know.

“Okay… then take this blanket, too.”

He grabs the second one that Jieun provided, head bowing a little as he says, “Thank you.”

The proceeding minutes you spend preparing for bed, slightly discomforted by your dress, pass in half-awkward, half-comfortable silence. He lays down on his unusual spot, and you cuddle into the blanket on your light, soft side.

As the rustling of blankets and sheets subsides, it gives way to the sound of the ticking clock; you focus on it, count the clicks like sheep.

But sleep doesn’t quite fall upon you yet, and you guess Jungkook feels similar when he calls your name and asks, “What does she owe you?”

Your head moves towards his voice, even though he can’t see you. “Huh?”

“Jieun. What does she owe you? And your coworker.”

“Oh. Uh. Honestly, just kindness.”

You can already see it — doe eyes rolling at another one of your cryptic answers. You know people don’t fathom your thoughts very well, and some feel annoyed by your dreamy outlook of the world. You don’t mind, but you wonder what he’s thinking.

But all he responds with is, “What?”

“Well, just. They’ve known me for ages. I’ve been there for Jieun for so long, and Jongin has always been so incredibly nice to me. Picked me up when I was dead drunk once and brought me home. Got me medicine and everything. And I’ve lent him some comfort over the years, too.”

It hasn’t been too long, so you remember. You’ve been good friends with him ever since you started your job; a steady part of your team. He and you have got each other’s back.

“These two are friends,” you say, “and I think kindness is the most we can give our loved ones.”

Jungkook hesitates. Have you bored him to sleep? Or is he pondering your words, thinking of you as weird? Maybe not—

Because he actually converses, asking, “You think? Doesn’t that mean we’re just kind to them then, so they can be kind to you in return?”

“I mean… yes and no. Owing might be the wrong word. I’m not nice to others to get something back. I’m like this because I want to be and because the world can be shitty and it’s important to be nice, and in return, I want people to be nice to me, too. It’s not an eye to eye kind of thing, it’s just about. Spreading affection in relationships. It’s what they’re here for.”

“…Hm. Is this why you’re never rude to me? Even when I deserve it,” he asks, registering a hum. “You know… you think really… uniquely.”

This is a nice way to phrase it at least. People like you; you’re good with them. But sometimes, they can be mean, too. Not that you mind. It’s natural — people occur in all types and shapes.

“But is it unique, though? Isn’t it a given?” you question.

“Yeah, probably, I just— never thought of it this deeply.”

“Mmmh. So is me thinking uniquely a compliment? I can’t say.” 

He laughs, and you join immediately, exclaiming an, “I’m serious!” in the middle of it all. Jungkook’s snicker is authentic, so you enjoy hearing it; but you like his answer even better.

“Maybe. I just… I feel like a lot of people try to be different these days. Or play a role to be perceived a certain way? But I think you’re genuine — you actually mean the things you say without any hidden intention to make people forcefully like you, right?”

An intention? Oddly phrased. You think, though… that what he said was nice.

Still, you confirm, “I don’t try to be anyone for people to like me.”

“I didn’t say otherwise! This is actually just what I meant. Besides, people like you anyway because you’re you.” As if he’s reading your mind. “That’s what I was saying.”

You hum, blinking at the ceiling and the little modern light hanging there, the beam off. The darkness pleasant. You conjure another question and ask, “So you think me being me is a good thing?”

You always considered it was. You like being you. But Jungkook didn’t like whatever makes up your personality — has this changed? Apparently.

“Of course,” he surprisingly answers, “it’s always a good thing. And just because I disagree with some of your characteristics, it doesn’t mean everybody will.” Oh. Well. But wait— “Or maybe, I’m just a moaner.”

Well.

“That you are,” you verify.

“Damn.”

“But, but— you’re kind, too, you know? Not everyone says the things you just said.”

“Maybe.”

“So…” you stall, rethinking his prior words. “Do you still disagree with all those characteristics of mine?”

Another joyous sound tumbles out of him, much in the form of a breather than a laugh; hushed, but you still hear it clearly. Perhaps you’re being a little awkward; but in all honesty, you hope he’s just finding it amusing, somewhat cute.

“I mean — you’re too blunt. But brave, like, I could never. The thing you did at the shop? Never. But this isn’t bad. And you aren’t bad.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

His voice is a whisper. Reminds you of a feeling akin to temptation; your mind automatically imagines the susurrating sound near your ear, exhaling the very syllable he just did. Frankly, you’re absolutely tortured by the knowledge of him being this close.

That you could probably touch his face if you rolled over to the edge of the bed, letting your arm dangle, seeking his skin. That he’s in the same room, talking to you this gently, saying things that a girl doesn’t hear too often these days anymore.

There it is. The intrusive thought from before… prevailing.

And you’re tortured by it. But mostly, by the image of him standing in front of you between the houses just a little time ago, staring at you, pupils flitting back and forth between your eyes and your lips. How he neared you. How he almost kissed you.

You might’ve joked about it then, but deep down, and especially now, you’re intrigued by the idea. Of the fantasy of a what if — what if he’d actually kissed you?

Taking a deep breath, you look to the side, staring at the door and call, “Hey, Jungkook.”

“Hm?”

“Is it uncomfortable down there?”

“Uh… a little.”

You shuffle at your spot, turning to the side. “Just thinking. What good does it do if we don’t rest well? What are we here for?”

“…What are you talking about?”

Pause. Quietude. You close your eyes, then open them again.

You’re never shy; so you don’t deem it an advantage for yourself to turn timid now either. You tell him, “Come up. I know you want to. I know I want you to.”

He doesn’t say anything; you bite your tongue. Maybe it was a mistake. But then his voice chimes again, wondering, “Are you sure?”

Your answer is immediate.

“Of course. Yes, I’m sure.”

“Okay… okay.”

As he starts to move, you gulp. You make place on the bed, moving to your previous side, pushing the blanket aside in case he wants to slip under it, too. The motions of his silhouette seem uncertain as he makes his way up to you, as if he’s uncomfortable with it.

“I… Was I wrong…? Do you not want to?” you make sure.

“What?” you hear him say; see his head shake. “Ah, that’s not it. Just want to make sure you’re really okay with it. I’m not the type of guy to…”

“I know. It’s fine. I don’t think you are.”

“Okay.” The mattress bulges where he lays down before it evens out again. He emits a couple groaning sounds, probably glad to give his back something proper. You turn to him just when he says, “Honestly… that’s a little better, yeah.”

“Thought so. Are you tired?”

“Definitely.”

“But you’re not sleeping.”

“Because you’re talking.”

Wrong. There was enough silence for him to nod off before. He was the one who started the conversation at all; you were ready to turn and toss and rest eventually.

When you don’t respond, his head turns on his pillow, too; in the darkness that you got used to, you see his eyes twinkle. Both of you know that you’re looking at each other. And he’s kind of close — closer than you thought. 

And… if you’re not wrong, he just inched nearer only a nanomoment ago. He repeats in a whisper, once more accusing, “You’re talking, that’s why.”

“That’s really why, huh?”

“Mhm.”

“The only reason there really is?”

“What else could there be?”

You smile, brazen, letting out the courage you’ve gathered, “Well, I know what else it is for me.”

“Yeah?”

Daring a step further, you graze his shirt featherlightly; you don’t know whether he notices. Not until he moves his hand, fingers ghosting near yours.

Waiting until you reveal with sheer, sudden heart palpitations, “I… I want you to kiss me. You do, too, don’t you?”

He inhales, but doesn’t exhale. What does it mean? You don’t know.

You don’t know what it is until you hear the smile in his words, gentle yet tantalising when he says, “…I do.”

“Good. Good. Then kiss me.”

And the rest proceeds without hesitation and without another plea.

His body moves as if on its own accord; he seems possessed, or controlled by a puppeteer. Warm lips lock with yours before you can draw another breath.

They feel soft, full, like tiny pillows, a contrast to the metal of his piercings. And they move gently, so carefully, like he’s still scared of crossing a line despite your permission. But when you lean into him, hoping for more proximity, he blossoms a little. Initiates more.

Oh, he, too, has been waiting for this, hasn't he?

A hand, nearly as warm as his kiss, slithers up to your face, holding you closer to him. The bangs that so often cover his forehead are tickling yours now, his head tilting to give his cute nose more space.

And with that, he deepens the kiss, too. Dares a step further, separating your lips with his, trying things out. He gauges your reaction as the tip of his tongue sneaks its way into the mix, and the moment you do the same, he dives in properly.

Kisses you just a little harder, tasting you, sighing into the movements as if all the weight of the world has dropped off his shoulders. As if he’s relieved, calmed down, resting for the first time tonight.

Yet, at the same time, he’s firing himself up — moving over your body slowly, holding onto your mouth to his best abilities, as if you’d disperse if he let go for too long. As if you’d change your mind.

He cages you in to keep you underneath, not touching your face anymore but shoving his fingers into your already tousled hair. If you were still in your right mind, you’d recognise how insane this situation is. Your younger self would’ve never predicted such a moment to ever become part of your life.

But it is… it is so clearly being played into your hard drive; somehow, you already know it’ll remain stuck in your memory: the way he’s kissing you, so thirsty, so insatiable. How he’s sighing, relaxed, yet sporting an audible heartbeat against your chest.

He uses moments of switching sides to breathe but continues right away; the keenness drives you crazy. You touch his shoulders and then wrap your arms around him firmly, making him hasten closer until he’s nearly falling onto you.

What in the heavenly make out sessions is this…

It’s nasty, yet sweet. Followed by quick breaths; it takes merely a minute until you feel his lower body grinding into you, his jeans tight around his crotch all of a sudden. And the second you realise he’s hardening beneath them, your body reacts.

Reacts so effectively.

Your lower tummy tickles, dampness pooling below as he pushes into you again, harder this time. You moan, enticed by your goosebumps and the heavy bulge. Solid enough for you to crave him within a moment’s notice.

And it only worsens threefold when he whispers, “Fuck… Somebody really knows how to kiss, huh?”

“You’re talking. What was this—” He so rudely interrupts with another peck, and you laugh into it. “Yeah, this…”

Your last word dissipates like candle smoke; you don’t even know why you bother to speak. Your voice is barely perceptible when his teeth remove the short sleeve of your dress, kissing your shoulder and then down to your cleavage.

It’s easy to remove your dress; it’s light, summer-y — but he doesn’t bare you just yet. Plays around at the mounds of your tits until he pushes the neck of the dress down a bit, asking, “May I take it off?”

Oh, if you could count the times you’ve imagined his veiny hands removing this damn dress just in the last fifteen minutes…

“Of course,” you permit, “do I look like I’d reject you?”

“Mmmh.” The hum is proud, satisfied, vocalised amidst another kiss to your clavicles. “Just making sure.”

Soft, warm hands trail up your leg, leaving a path of another set of goosebumps. You want him to stay right there on your thigh, knead the flesh, press into it, showcase the lust he feels in the beguiling pain.

But instead, he pushes up your dress, fingers ghosting over your ass — and when he doesn’t find your panties but only bare skin, he stops kissing you. Looks at you. Makes out the string of your thong a second later — in the dark, you discern the way his lips round in captivation.

He’s loving this.

He tugs at the string and lets it snap back into place; you gasp even though it doesn’t hurt, but it drives you mad when he states, “Wow. Very intriguing.”

Leaving it at this for just now, he kisses you again, tongues mingling once more before he releases a sharp, nearly aggressive hiss and mumbles, “Holy fuck. I can’t stop.”

“I didn’t tell you to stop,” you guarantee.

“Good. Good, good, good.”

The dress surrounds your waist now, stopping below your breasts, and Jungkook journeys down to drag his lips around the spots he hasn’t touched yet. As if he’s trying to familiarise himself with all of you, working towards the goal of memorising you entirely.

His teeth scrape at your pelvis just lightly, seemingly contemplating whether he wants to destroy these panties or not — but then decides against it. You wouldn’t mind; you’re not showing anybody anything of you tonight but him.

And you’re already such a mess; breathing so irregularly, letting out his name and quiet sighs. He should know he could do basically anything. That you’re ready for him.

But instead, he only curses again, sucking at your skin harshly, nails digging into your hips. And then, from below, you hear him say, “Want you to suck my dick so bad.” He moves up, fingertips on your cheek, rubbing himself against your underwear, and questions, “Will you suck my dick, baby?”

Oh, he didn’t just…

Oh, the way the pet name screws with your head is irreversible. You feel sick at the mention, breathing out hard, about to get up at the speed of light to swallow him fully; to the hilt.

But you won’t give him the satisfaction yet; you’ve gotten used to the darkness, and seeing the hazy insanity in his eyes spurs you on to play with him a bit more. So you lift your body, giving him hope, but then say, “I have a better idea.”

“Ah? Where are you going?”

“Wait.”

He quietens. Falls to the side and onto his back as he watches whatever you’re trying to do unfold. You look back at him for just a blink of an eye, but you immediately perceive the hand cupping his clothed dick, moving a bit, up and down.

“Okay. Should work on this first,” you say, straddling him backwards.

You hike up your dress more, baring your back to him, and you instantly hear the breath he releases. Feel the palm touching your spine, grazing it; you imagine huge eyes ogling at you like he’s reached nirvana. You so hope he’s looking at you like this.

“My God…” he only mutters, however, proving your point when he opts to get up. But you turn as much as you can, a flat hand pushing him down again, to which he complains, “What?”

“I told you to wait, silly. I’m not going anywhere.”

“You sure? You’re being pretty mean right now.”

“I’m not being mean. You’re just not patient,” you laugh. “Give me a second and I’ll wreck your world, ‘kay?”

“Ah?”

“Mhm.”

“That I wanna se— oh. Oh.”

Exactly.

Once you’re done pulling off the dress, you shift back, enough for your pussy to align with his gorgeous face. Jungkook instinctively grabs your ass to pull you lower, and you chuckle at the restless gesture.

But you need to focus; and as best and tidily as you can, you unbutton his jeans, zipping them open until you detect his shorts. He raises his hips to help you, and you bite your lower lip, crazed by the sight that awaits you once the jeans are halfway down.

The bulge is big indeed. The imprint is insane; the light from outside allows glimpses, and you salivate, bowing your head to kiss him above his underwear, feeling him stir. And he imitates, blowing against your wetness, his finger — middle one? — curling around the string digging between your ass cheeks.

When he frees your pussy, you feel it. It hits the air in the room coldly, a contrast to his hot breath. A second more and you might drip into his tantalising mouth, just how you’re drooling over the cock you finally set free.

It springs out, veiny under your touch. Hard. Thick and long. Everything good, a fucking ideal package. You scold him, “You’ve been hiding this from me?”

“Huh? I wasn’t hiding.”

“Now I realise just how mean you are, man,” you say, shaking your head, spitting onto the slit before wiping it off again with the tip of your tongue. He swears again. “Could’ve had this make me hoarse so long ago.”

“Fuck,” he replicates, “stop talking, or I’ll fuck this mouth of yours. You want to be hoarse so bad, then try me.”

“Is this a threat? You really think I won’t let you? Stay right there, little—” You look again. “Big man. You can do whatever you want, but wait a second, alright?”

“Nah. You’re not the only one teasing. You brat,” Jungkook whispers sharply, delivering a smack to your ass; you gasp. “I just…”

You don’t know what he just — you only know that he’s attaching his mouth to your cunt right away, thong pushed aside, diving in with a tongue so eager. You squint your eyes shut, lips parting, calling his name as he holds you there roughly.

He soon wraps his arms around your hips, like a belt, lips intense as he kisses you even wetter. The sounds he eludes are dirty, sinful; and the feeling of his piercings doesn’t add to your sanity. 

You decide to not let this distract you; he’s competitive, you realised, but you are, too. So you lean in, lips wrapping around the tip. Your right hand enfolds his cock, pumping him, tracing every firm vein that protrudes. He’s so pretty all around.

“Shit,” you whisper, hoping he doesn’t hear; only continue to work your tongue around the head, setting the nerves alight as he’s doing for you.

You kiss down the shaft, licking and humming to create a sort of vibration. And then, you take him in as much as you can. Despite being large, barely fitting, soon hitting your throat, you try. Hollow your cheeks, bop your head, gifting him your attention.

But it’s hard. So hard because—

God, he’s lapping you up so good.

So hungry. Out to kill you as he releases the prior belt, bringing two fingers to your pussy and thrusting them into you slowly. Mouth and digits; both at once. Thumb against the clenching hole between your ass.

He’s distracted every now and then, much like you, but he still maintains a steady pace. Cruel… so cruel. Those damn fingers propelling into you, harder sometimes before they slow down again. Curling to hit you just right, massaging the rough, walnutty spot.

Oh, Jungkook knows… knows exactly what to do.

They don’t make men like him anymore.

Your ass clenches when his skills exceed your expectations and he rubs your insides particularly well, mouth just right above your clit as the tongue circles around it. It’s nearly overwhelming; you could cry with this mouthful of dick impaling your throat.

He feels so good on you. So good in you. You want all of you filled, not just your mouth. So you soon let go with a plop, a string of saliva so lewdly connecting your mouth and his member, and you wipe your mouth.

Tell him, “This should be enough.”

And he agrees immediately, smacking his lips, as if licking up the remnants of his food, “Fuck yes. Enough.”

You want to get into the next position, put in some work, but what you don’t expect is that Jungkook is already planning a step ahead. Tapping your ass with his big manly palm, pushing you off of him until you’re crawling on all fours.

Submitted to him. And you don’t mind a bit — just for now, just for him, you’ll give into this because you’ve been craving it. It’s okay; you vow to yourself that in a while, you’ll wreck his shit just as much.

On your elbows and knees, you hear him shifting, the mattress dipping, his knees nearing you and closing your legs in. The palm covering the right side of your ass causes it to jiggle, and when you push your butt towards his pelvis, he praises, “The way you know what to do without me needing to tell you. How convenient.”

“Well,” you breathe out, “it’s not my first rodeo. But do make it the best… okay?”

“No pressure at all, huh? I’ll try my best.”

You want to react, bring a laugh straight out of your throat, but Jungkook is faster. The reaction comes alright, but not as you wanted it to. But rather in a high-pitched moan, arms quivering when he fists his cock, guiding it to your leaking cunt, and rubs the tip between your pussy folds.

You reckon he’s testing out how eager you already are; you contemplate on telling him. On pleading, on saying something that might drive him to action. You don’t mention a single word, though; only let your ass speak once more, steering towards him until he gets the message.

He must have.

Because he clicks his tongue as if to admonish you for your shortage of patience, though only briefly before he surrenders to the itch you cause. Scratching without hesitation now, he finally helps you lose your damn panties and then dips himself into you slowly.

Of course; with a length like his, there’s no way you’d be able to survive a quick push. Jungkook knows to be cautious, penetrating you sweetly; an oxymoron in a moment like this. Your fingers digging into the sheets reveal as much; there’s not much going on yet, but you’re already holding onto the soundness of your mind so desperately.

“Shit, what the fuck,” you murmur, your turn to let out profanities; you’re sure this isn’t your last. “You scared of something, Jeon? I’m… I have an IUD.”

“Scared? No. You’re not an idiot, right?” he whispers. “You would’ve told me if you couldn’t do it like this. Much rather…” He breathes heavily between his words. “I’m taking you in, y’know? Enjoying — fuck — how wet and warm you are… Gonna wreck you raw, though, no p-problem.”

No, your foul words were certainly not the last for tonight; his dick is just halfway through when he stops and another tumbles out of you. He drags the thickness back, then inside again.

Your walls are occupied to their last inch, and you know you could take all of him if you just gave yourself some time — but somehow, his care turns you on even more.

Goddamn, he’s good. All of him — his dick, his voice, his mouth, his touch. He’s so— nnghh…

You have never witnessed his fingers do much more than take the pictures you love. Whenever he operates the button with his forefinger, flexing the inked crown above his knuckle, you already know the man has a talent unmatched.

But right now… right now you have an entirely different perception of these same digits.

Like, when he leans in a bit, still deep inside you, undoing your bra in a smooth motion. Or when he caresses your back, along your spine, contradicting the touch with a harsher, harder jab now.

And shit, when he pulls your ass cheeks apart, digging in further, fucking through your seeping hole until he’s covered in slick, too. It must look so good to him; incredibly memorable.

Your whimpers are quiet and gentle, matching the way he fucks you, only rising in volume when he decides to push another inch in. You behave; you whine softly; that is until all of a sudden, he pulls back most of his cock and shoots back in, colliding with your ass with a slapping sound.

Yelping, you hold the sheets until your fingers hurt, and he bolts forwards, a hand slamming your mouth shut and muffling your mewls. Way too close to your ear, he says, “Sh sh sh… my God. Jieun has neighbours, babe — don’t spoil her reputation.”

He proceeds to kiss the skin under your ear, taking your arms captive until they’re pinned to your back. Fingers intertwine messily, holding your limbs in place, and as he frees your mouth again, you laugh — it’s all you can do to not feel too weirded out by the mention of Jieun’s name right now.

You tell him, “Use my panties then.”

“Your panties, huh? Do you want me to?” You nod, but he’s not obliging enough to give into your wishes. Teasing you to no end. “Nah. I’ll just…”

Jungkook doesn’t finish the sentence; what he does is much more alluring, nearly forcing tears of lust to your waterline. He grabs the back of your neck, urging you to look at him, and just as you register his face close to yours, he kisses you again.

Your body immediately blossoms. You breathe as much as the kiss allows, yielding to his tongue. Let him push you down and into the mattress, imprisoning you under him. And he kisses you… kisses you… kisses you more…

Basks in your dimmed moans as he hits from behind again, hard. Sheathes himself inside you thoroughly and with impact; he’s enjoying the fact that you want to yell, but need to restrain yourself at this time of the night.

Because he’s right. You don’t want Lee Jieun to earn looks in the morning because of you.

As if provoking you, he blatantly asks, “You good?”

“Yes— yes!”

“Mhm…”

He’s out of breath; can barely emit another word. But he doesn’t waste any moment at all; kisses your neck, bites your earlobe. Pushes his hands under your body to get ahold of your tits. Fucks you into space, lifting one of your hands to your face, entangling his fingers with yours.

You shift up and down the mattress, just a little; the position, with him on you, doesn’t allow too many extreme movements, and you’re more than fine with it. There’s something about him going unhinged on you like this.

But… it does awaken the need to retaliate, too.

So you use the opportunity when he decides to pause, running out of energy, gasping for breath. He leaves you empty and yearning, pulling back and sitting up, and judging from the touch on your tummy, you assume he wants to flip you on your spot.

Instead, however, you turn on your own accord, both palms that he held captive minutes ago shoving at him. He produces a strange sound as he falls backwards, landing on the mattress and onto the pillow with big eyes that almost don’t fit his Greek God-esque physique.

Goodness, the damp dark hair. The abs. The pecs. The nipples…

You might dribble onto his sweaty, shiny skin. And you don’t veil your innermost thoughts this time, straddling him as you say, “My turn. Need to ride you so bad.”

He visibly relaxes; leads his fingers to your hips, thumb drawing patterns on them. His tongue darts out to play with the lip rings, and he eyes you up and down. He’s taking you in for the first time properly, just as you are him.

Just as your eyes drifted over his muscular body, he now makes stops along the journey — your pussy on the length of his cock. The tits and the perked nipples. The ruined hair, sticking to your collarbones.

You wonder how he likes what he sees.

Probably enough if he can respond with something like, “I won’t stop you.”

Good to know.

So you take a comfortable seat on top of him, still keeping him down, lining up your sex with his. When you welcome him in again this time, you do so fully. No slow torture, no waiting. You claim your throne until your ass hits his hardened balls.

He says, not quite expecting an answer, so you don’t give one, “You’ll kill me today, right?”

And then you start. Put in all the effort you can gather. He feels heavenly inside you, the perfectly curved length moving just the way it needs to. His groans and calls of your names sound promising, telling; you suppose you’re doing a good enough job if his eyes roll back like this.

The hands on your hips push into your flesh more, and when you remove one and bring it to your mouth, sucking his forefinger with your eyes set on him, he loses his shit. Starts pumping up from below, meeting your up-and-down ministrations.

“Shi— what— do you think,” he attempts, stagnant breathing, “you’re doing…”

But he’s grunting in ardour, so you don’t stop; don’t let him take over fully just yet. No — you roll your hips, bend your back, catch a patch of his hair and then angle your body to crash your lips onto his. 

The kiss weakens his defences. For a moment, you do feel his nails bruising your skin, but another second later, his touch is as soft as a feather. He’s so ultimately at your mercy that he lets you trace his abs and kiss his pecs.

Lets you get into a crouch, your palms settling below his chest for support. And then… then you navigate north and south, repeatedly, fucking him into you with vigour. He throws his head back, but then looks at you again, blinking fast before his eyes squint shut once more.

“The fuck are you—” he tries, but you start circling his cock again, moving in eight-curves, seeking support in his biceps.

“What?” you voice. “Not good?”

“You fucking— kidding me?” His lower lip trembles when he parts his mouth. You see it even with the lights dimmed. “This is such… a good fucking pussy. I was an idiot to push you aside.”

You’re too dazed to really pout, but you do hear the undertone; ask to clarify, “You’re just saying that f-for… getting my pussy, huh?”

“What— no. Fuck no. Look at me.” His hand reaches out, fingers poking into your cheeks, and he pulls you down to him, makes you meet his eyes. You slow down. “I wouldn’t just do this for any pussy— I… not with you. I don’t just. I don’t just go home with anybody. ‘Kay?”

His words bloom in your chest like a bouquet of flowers. In such a vulgar moment, you shouldn’t be feeling like this, but you can’t help but acknowledge the warmth spreading throughout your body. Burning up your already aflame muscles.

You want to know more; so you query sneakily, “What does this mean?”

“What it means?” he echoes, words blurry, as if drunk. “That you’re beautiful. And… honestly, kind of cool. So annoying but so fucking funny and— hot—”

“I am? Look at this,” you say, still moving but tired; touching his face, his cheeks, his sweet nose, “look at you…”

“No.” He grits his teeth. You don’t know what comes over him, but he’s inhaling way too deeply, lightly aggressive again as he retorts, “Look at fucking you.”

And with that, he gets what he desired earlier; flips you over, climbing over you. With your shield lowered, you didn’t expect this, and now you’re right where you began. And for some reason, the sharp jaw, the furrowed eyebrows, the starved look hits you even harder than before.

The many inches he sports fell out as he took over, but as he plunges into you again with embarrassing ease, something feels different. How he looks at you. How he touches you, pushing your hair back, kissing your lips with such softness.

And how he holds you when you finally see the stars you waited for, his face in your neck, his thumb on your cheek, his palm on your jaw. Kissing your shoulder, delighted as you seek an anchor in his back, tightening around him impossibly as he fucks you through your high and your broken moans.

“Jungkook—” you repeat over and over, and in return, he mutters constant, “I know, I know.”

Again and again and again until his sounds become more uncurbed. Only syllables, rumbling, his chest vibrating against yours until he lifts himself up and retracts his cock.

His pupils shake as he jerks himself off, and you know what he’s seeking, quickly getting to your knees, helping out. You replace his hand with yours, sticking out your tongue before you engulf his dick rapidly.

In surprise, he lets out, “Oh, fff—”

Shit, how he sounds. And how wicked he feels in your mouth, tasting like you, tasting like him. Wet and slippery, his balls hard when you cup them. And then— a mere moment later, he’s shooting ropes of white down your throat.

You’ll never get used to the feeling. You didn’t with your exes, didn’t with any other guy you’ve been with. It’s sudden, your gag reflex kicking, but you don’t want to stop until he has.

Sticky and hot, you let him; look up to him. His jaw glimmers due to the sheen of sweat, and he holds your hand to keep himself upright. Nearly growls when he’s done, and then calms down bit by bit. Pulls out of you. Plumps back onto his ass.

Catches his breath; and once the two of you have relieved your burning lungs, you with your legs under your butt, you look at each other again. A sudden laugh. He lets his head drop onto his shoulder, and then shakes it before getting back on his knees, nearing your joyous form.

The last kiss of the night is endlessly more chaste. No tongue, no making out. Just a couple pecks, a hand around the nape of your neck, noses grazing. Once, twice. And then, he’s smiling again.

You tell him, “Can’t believe this actually happened.”

“Crazy… right?”

“Crazy, yeah. We…” You gulp. “We can leave it right here, though. Guess we were both riled up.”

He nods, humming, looking to the side. “We could. But we don’t have to. It felt too good to forget, you know?”

You gleam and glow; if you could, you’d curl your fingers into fists, screeching like an excited high schooler in her room, acknowledged by a crush. But you only press your lips together, corners twitching up, cheeks hot.

Then, you say, “You know what… I might just agree.”

“Good.” Another one of his stares to the side, through the door of the room. “You think we should very quickly and very harmlessly use Jieun’s shower? She probably wouldn’t mind.”

“I don’t think she would. But she’d certainly know what happened.”

“Least of our concerns,” he argues, getting up stark naked. He pats your thigh and then tugs at your arm, adding, “We’ll be tidy. And then we can rest a bit and leave. Am too fired up anyway.”

You know things might change again once you’ve slipped into your clothes and walked out into the night air. Perhaps the passion was reserved for this very room, actually a result of unbridled lust and tension.

But you think it’s okay. It’s okay as you giggle in the shower, flirting and bantering.

Because even if you part from Jeon Jungkook and all this as just a saccharine memory, you’re ready to seize just a little more of this stolen moment before reality sets back in.

5:12AM, Him

Whether it’s the numbers glowing on his digital watch or the fact that the two of you didn’t rest as much as you’d anticipated after all, he doesn’t know.

The residual heat of the past hour has warmed his body and relaxed his muscles; your touches still haunt him, crawling over his skin and sitting on his knees, tempting them to buckle. And your voice, your sounds… like a ghost in his mind.

And you urging him to climb the nearby hill with you, surprisingly steep, doesn’t help. He doesn’t know why you’d choose such a place at such an hour. The occasional forest around you is dark, chirping, and the road is empty.

Perhaps you feel secure in the presence of another; in this sense, it’s even flattering that you trust him this much.

But he’ll admit that his still wobbly condition and this stop of the night are slowly bringing him to his limits. The blazer, at least, is already hanging over his arm, giving him more space to breathe.

You’re piloting the way, careful, navigating with the help of the light beaming from the occasional street lamps. Jungkook sighs in a half-complaint when the road doesn’t end, nobody around far and wide.

You’re similarly out of breath when you turn to look over your shoulder, barely for a moment before you continue to escort him further up. Then, you encourage, “Come on! We just rested. How are you already tired?”

“Woman. We’ve been walking for a pretty long time.”

“Uhmmm,” you exclaim, swaying when you pull your hair over your left shoulder, “tell me something. What’s your sleep schedule usually like?”

Well, shit.

Jungkook can already tell what you’re referring to, but the counterargument already sits ready in his brain, just in case. Yet, he hesitates. Studies his surroundings to make sure he knows the way back, stalling on purpose, and when you ask, “And?”

He answers, “Uh. Late. I slept at 7AM just last week.”

“What?!” Your voice is high-pitched, in disbelief, and whatever point you wanted to make is stuck in your throat upon the revelation he divulged. “Holy shit, Jungkook.”

“Yeah, but like,” he immediately works on justifying, making use of the comeback he’d already thought out, “I don’t walk around town, you know? I spend these nights eating or singing or—”

“Woah. You sing?”

“Yes, but. I will not sing to you now.”

He catches up with you in one long step, regarding your countenance. Even in the dim light and the pitch dark, he recognises the roll of your eyes, as if to say, “I wasn’t even going to ask.”

But instead of vocalising that very overt thought, your answer comes as smoothly as silk, “It’s fine. You sang to me plenty tonight.”

Jungkook nearly chokes on his spit, disguising his surprise as in the hike reasoned exhaustion. His mind needs a moment to fix itself, but when the balance is restored again, he wisecracks, “You’re one to talk. May I remind you of what you sounded like earlier?”

“You can. But I do remember myself, thank you.”

Damn it. You’re a step ahead all the time. He can’t even outsmart you the way he wants to.

“Way to diss me. You’re hardcore,” he complains, “and here I thought you were kind and sweet and all of that.”

Jungkook nearly retracts his statement, because you throw such a perplexed and disbelieving stare back that he shrinks, reprimanded, “Can’t I be both? A woman can certainly be both, man.”

“Of course,” he agrees, hands up as if he’s being arrested, “of course. You’re both, for sure.”

He anticipates more scolding and scowls, but it seems you’re satisfied with the response he gives. You grant him a pleased, lopsided smirk that resembles his own, and then sigh into the night air, long and deep before your breath morphs into—

A mixture of a gasp and a shriek.

“Wh—” Jungkook blurts, barely registering the movement scurrying from the left side of the forest into the trees right of him. “The fuck.”

And just as fast as your gasp appeared, it diminishes, too, turning into a throaty laugh. Jungkook listens in to the echo of the rustles, still seeing the bushes move; whether because of the animal that just flit past or the breeze, he can’t say.

His eyebrows shoot up when he looks at you, coming down from the quiet chuckle, and he only realises that your elated joy stems from the way he’s standing right now.

He must’ve instinctively dashed forward, an arm in front of your body, shielding it with his. It was just a squirrel, and in all honesty, it is the two of you who are trespassing, disturbing the forest life with your presence at such a time.

Yet, his reaction must’ve been immediate enough to protect you from whatever loomed in the dark, and you seem to like it for some reason. Because as he clears his throat and lets his arm sink, all you comment is a fascinated, content, “Wow.”

“Uh… all good.”

“Yes. All good indeed.”

Your voice is tinged with a combination of gratification and tease, as if you’re one utterance away from adding a little, “My knight in shining armour.”

Instead, you bite your tongue and look around; Jungkook sees what you perceive a mere moment later. The surroundings clear, the forest less dense; on the left side, a vast opening appears, a wide path ending in a… cliff?

And behind that, the town.

If there was a soundtrack to his life, he’d probably hear violins playing right now. Reminiscent of the wind, perhaps accompanied by piano keys that sound like the softly glimmering stars above.

The picture is breathtaking. Not that he hasn’t been at such a spot before — he grew up in a big, mountainous city.

But since he didn’t expect for the hill’s peak to allow such art, he’s a little more overwhelmed than he expected to be.

From behind, he hears you say, “In any case. Let’s rest here?”

“Uh-huh.”

It’s hard to avert his eyes. All night long, he’s only felt like this once; this marks the second time.

Gratefully, he walks up to where you’re making yourself comfortable, flattening your dress and settling your bag on your lap. You pull a thin, short cardigan out of it, slipping into it. It’s certainly cooler up here.

And then, you pat the spot next to you, and he lets himself fall with a sigh; it’s been a long night, and despite the restful-not-restful hour you spent at Jieun’s, it feels as though he’s truly easing up just now.

Jungkook puffs out a breath and takes another look. Properly this time, blinking as if this could help his eyes focus better. Gorgeous. He can see the river from here, flowing through the town in curves, like a snake.

He can’t see the entire city, but most of it; it goes up and down. Skyscrapers and then cosy houses like the ones before again. Mountains far away and the lights of the amusement park somewhere in the east. They’re the brightest of them all.

“Wait,” he says; you oblige, waiting, watching as he heaves the camera out of his bag.

He only registers you from his side vision, but he thinks you’re wearing a smile; confirmed when you breathe to speak again, and his eyes drift to you, immediately decoding the pride in your sparkling pupils.

Why do you look proud? Then again, he guesses he would, too, if he showed you something that he loved and you enjoyed it, too.

Thinking about it, he kind of wants to do it someday.

He pulls at his lower lip, releasing it soon, blinking again as if to release the thought. Instead, he listens as you ask, “You’ve never been here before?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Hidden spot then.”

“It’s beautiful. Look there,” he points to a spot that you carefully follow, even squinting an eye shut; it makes him smile. “That’s the ferris wheel in the amusement park. Can you see? Wait.”

The camera comes to use when he points the lens at the direction he signalled towards, nimble hands working on zooming in. The picture unfocuses before the lights of the amusement park flicker again.

It’s late, he thinks; then again, the summer is coming to an end, the last nights used to keep such attractions open late. September will bring forth grey clouds again, leaving behind the prior season’s heat. Raining down on him, forcing the leather jacket out of his closet.

He likes it that way.

No offence to the summer whatsoever; but he likes the fresh gust dishevelling his soft hair. Likes it when the rain patters against the window glass so softly. He sleeps better that way, too.

Barely sitting for a moment, Jungkook already gets to his feet, nearing the edge until he’s kneeling on the ground. The distance has only faded by a couple feet, not much of a difference. But the feeling of the city nearing still persists somehow, tickling his mind just right.

He doesn’t know how long he squats there against the backdrop of the luminescent sea, but when he comes back to you, you’re still sporting that excited smile, eyebrows high. Your eyes fall to the camera, humming when he says, “Look. There.”

He magnifies the picture, every spot of it good enough to pin against the living room wall. Carefully, he hands you the camera; surprising, because he regards this pricey piece of plastic as sacred. You probably don’t know how big of a deal it is that he lets you handle it.

If you did, you’d never let him live it down.

You scoot closer, your temple now nearly touching his. You stare with an interest he hasn’t witnessed too often before. People do not care much about pictures of scenery; in the age of media, how could they anyway? When every stock picture is already memorised and used to the point of insignificance?

But you — your mouth parts as you switch around, taking in details.

“Good?” he asks.

“Beautiful,” you sincerely mutter, returning the camera to him. You hold it like a kitten; perhaps you do know what the gesture meant. “This is exactly why I wanted us to come here.”

The moment is so serene, like balm, and he nods along with your words, calmly conversing. So it takes a heartbeat to truly untangle your words in his mind and tie them with the meaning your intention conveys.

He assumed you were just showing him random spots of the town, to allow him a glimpse into your mind and to crack your true nature. All this time, he thought you wanted to lead him to bright spaces to lighten up his perception of you.

But what you’re doing instead is turn the spotlight towards him and what he loves.

“You… did it for me?” he asks.

You, casually, as if the thoughtful act doesn’t flood him with serotonin, reply, “Yeah. To capture a couple pretty pictures. You really do love it, so.”

“I do… wow, thanks.” He pauses. Looks down to the buttons on his camera, to his hands; then back to you. “You thought of it all, right? The nice places and the short rest at Jieun’s. Now this.”

“Hmm, tried as much as possible so spontaneously.”

“Thank you. Really.”

You return his gratitude with a polite nod, leaning away until you touch the backrest of the bench. Jungkook indulges in some more that nature offers, toying with the settings, zooming in just to observe sights from a closer point.

He doesn’t notice when you sigh or when you zone off; or when your thoughts shift back to the minutes and hours of the night. He doesn’t notice; and in return, you don’t know that he’s still thinking about the intention that brought him here; that you were attentive enough to truly show that some people appreciate art.

There aren’t only fleeting nights and then forgotten memories. Because this… this right here is a core memory.

Because of you.

Are you thinking the same? Are you proud that his enmity has faded, replaced by a tender smile? Satisfied that your efforts were worth it after all — a goal reached that you set for yourself earlier tonight.

Let me show you pretty places until the sun comes up, and if you still hate me by then, I will never talk to you again.

But…

He’d love to talk to you again.

However, your mind hasn’t quite drifted in this direction; in truth, he honestly can’t analyse or interpret you at all, because the question you pose next is far from what he’d been thinking about.

“Talking about pretty… uhm. Did you think Jieun was pretty?”

Jungkook blinks. One eyebrow cocks up; the camera drops back onto his lap. He flashes you a squinted look, a confused laugh erupting before he asks back, “What?”

“Ah, don’t lie. She’s very pretty.”

“Sure? She is.”

He’s nearly forgotten what she looked like. But beauty is still perceived and remembered — he guesses he found her good-looking.

“And she’s everyone’s type,” you prod, “what do you think, though? If she didn’t have a boyfriend, could you imagine liking her?”

Jungkook thinks about it. Not because he wants to, but because you seem to have found an odd interest in whatever attracts him; maybe your questions are leading up to something. So he’ll play along.

“Hmm… Maybe,” he answers.

“So she is your type.”

Or maybe, you’re trying to get something out of him that you want to hear specifically. You seem so shy about it all of a sudden; not necessarily an adjective he’d assign to you.

And coming from you of all people, he somehow does not find the topic interesting. It’s weird; he doesn’t want to talk about it; he doesn’t care about Jieun, either.

So he shrugs his shoulders indifferently, lifting his camera up again. He points it at you, eternalising your surprised expression just when you open your mouth to leave out a shocked, “Hey!”

“That’s what you get for asking such strange stuff.”

“It’s not strange! I’m just small-talking.”

“You do not small-talk.”

“It could be a deeper conversation if you just admitted it.”

He chuckles, turning his body towards you, half his leg on the bench, “Admit what?”

“The type thing!”

“Sure. I don’t just have one type, though, you know?”

The dispute brought your bodies a little closer, your face far enough for him to still identify his surroundings, but near enough for him to see your eyes twinkling. The light is dancing in them. And it’s much easier to focus on it when you silence like this.

Just for a second.

Because you breathe in again ten seconds later, lightly slapping the thigh resting on the bench. The touch is cursory, tiny, nothing to overthink about — but he’d be lying if he said he didn’t want it to linger.

In some way, it still does.

You ask, “Okay? What are your types then?”

“Different girls.” This time, only one shoulder shoots up. His eyes match his pensive hum. “Whoever suits me. Pretty girls but also nice girls. Especially nice girls.”

“Alright, be honest,” you begin, mimicking his position until your leg lifts onto the bench, knee nearly touching his. You’re warming up now. Finally spitting the true question soon, “Do you think I’m pretty?”

Cute.

But he’s not giving in this easily.

He smirks; he feels the dimple on one side of his lopsided smile the moment you look at it. You’re distracted enough — so he uses the mental absence to attack you with yet another picture.

For a couple blinks, you’re startled — but as he reacts to his own nonsense with a content chortle, proud of his prank, you sigh. His shoulders rise with his sneering joy, head low as he inspects the picture just taken on his camera.

He zooms into your face, mouth open and eyes wide. You do look so pretty, he thinks — better even since you washed most of your make up off. Yet, he can’t contain himself when he shows you the screen, telling you, “You look alright.”

You laugh, rolling your eyes and your gaze to the view; your giggles start quietly, and then mix with his. Before—

They soon become part of a bad harmony as more voices join your very own night. Somebody is nearing. Jungkook hears the laughter already, but the road is curved and dark; so he can’t see them yet.

You might not have expected this, because you push closer to Jungkook on reflex; just at the same time as him. He didn’t know he had it in him to always stay so alert around you. Ready to throw himself at intruders.

Crazy.

But once the voices grow in volume, the two of you are soon met with a couple walking past. They’re in love, because amidst their titter, there’s another lewd sound. Or maybe, not too bad; playful kisses?

Yes.

The guy — he’s smooching his girl’s cheek, releasing with a, “Mwah” each time. Your initial surprise soon fades and turns into delight; Jungkook sees it in the way your smile returns. And in the furrowed yet amused eyebrows…

When the couple spots the two of you, they gasp; the girl’s hand immediately bolts to her chest, as if she just encountered a wild boar. But she catches herself soon, apologising, “Oh. Sorry. We’re sorry.”

You respond with an, “It’s okay!” Jungkook shakes his head politely to shrink their worries. They’ve walked away as soon as they came, but he still hears the woman’s scolding, effect lessened by the still occurring belly laugh, “I told you to calm yourself—”

As the world quietens again, Jungkook huffs, tilting his head as he deduces, “So late and yet… Not much of a hidden spot after all.”

“It feels like an ancient hill to me. I don’t often meet others here.” You breathe in the wind, then tongue your cheek. “They probably didn’t even notice where they were going. People in love never do.”

“I guess so.”

He guesses so.

It’s been a while since he fell in love.

Your head bobs once more before you lose yourself in the skyline, sucking in more of the crisp air that’ll grace you in the upcoming months. Fall is upon the town. He inbreathes the peace, too.

His hands operate on their own; one last time, he lifts it towards you, peeks through the lens again, adjusting the focus until the object clicks again. You’re not looking at him; he caught your side profile, this time not out of mock or tease.

He means it. And you seem to know.

Because when you look at him this time, you’re not mad or irritated.

Only look at him softly, a smile that truly matches the heights you took him on.

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the fic isn't over yet – as always, tumblr has a 1k block limit that makes our lives harder than necessary lmao. read the last scene and the remaining 3k words of meraki here 🥰

[bunnyykoo]

cockblocked. (m) | jjk

➵ summary; in which a pair of best friends are hopelessly in love with one another but they’re both too dumb to realize, even when everyone around them are dropping hints every five minutes. or alternatively; “you’re an idiot for thinking I wouldn’t love you back.”

pairing; jeongguk x f. reader

word count; 15.8k

rating; 18+

content; roommates au + friends (idiots) to lovers, smut/fluff/angst

warnings; mentions of alcohol, swearing, explicit sexual content, dirty talk, cum eating, oral sex (f. receiving), stupid jeongguk and stupid reader

a/n; i’ve been wanting to write a oneshot for so long with the ultimate boyfriend version of gguk, so i started writing with this gguk in mind. i hope you like it! ALSO, this is heavily unedited, so ignore any typos thx – enjoy!

find drabbles related to this fanfic through this tag !! 

Keep reading

[bunnyykoo]

⤷ summary : Enemies for two years. Neighbours by sheer cosmic cruelty. Now your hot coworker just moved in with your gym-obsessed, garbage-bag-juggling nemesis — and Jungkook’s suddenly very invested in your love life. The tension is high. The walls are thin. Your sanity? Hanging on by a bicep, because now Jungkook’s looking at you like you’re his next bad decision.

⤷ pairing: Jungkook x fem!reader. ⤷ rating: 18+ mdni, Part : 1 ⤷ genre: smut, fluff, humor, e2l, sexual tension. ⤷ warnings: mentions of unaliving or stabbing, mentions of self harm, mentions of garbage???, stuck in an elevator, jungkook has cat name ‘punctures’, catdad!jungkook, besties!yoongie, bestie!jimin, love traingle??, jealousy, hottie!taehyung, reader is a simp (cant blame her) forgive me if I forgot something. ⤷ word count: definitely more than 11k i went crazy for the 1st part TT.

a/n: Funfact: this was written before inks and petals lol. Also this fic will be divided into 2 parts , so this is the first part though i planned on uploading it altogether I realised I still had a lot of work to do with 2 and the last one. soooo, here you go enjoy!!

The morning started with a cold coffee and your sudden urge to stab a bitch.

You stood by your kitchen island, clicking the already-dead pen with the same intensity people usually reserved for punching walls. Yoongi sat at your counter, half-sprawled on one of the bar stools with a breakfast burrito in one hand and an expression that hadn’t changed since 2018.

“Do you think if I stab him in the thigh with this, it’ll legally count as self-defense?” you muttered, tossing the pen onto the counter with a dramatic clatter.

Yoongi didn’t even look up. “Only if he charges at you first. So bait him with a protein bar. He looks like the type.”

You snorted, reaching for your mug. “God, I hate him.”

Yoongi chewed, paused, then finally asked in his usual deadpan, “Is this the part where I remind you hate is just lust with unresolved paperwork?”

“I will set you on fire.”

He shrugged. “Fair. But your eyes twitch every time you say his name. That’s sexual tension, babe.”

You gave him a look. “Yoongi. He left raw chicken in the hallway last week. A whole tray. Just sitting there. Leaking.”

Yoongi finally cracked a grin. It was subtle. More of a twitch at the corner of his lips. “Protein offering to the garbage gods. He’s spiritual like that.”

You pointed a threatening finger at him. “Stop defending him. You own a convenience store. You’re legally not allowed to encourage biohazards.”

Yoongi took another bite of his burrito, unconcerned. “Legally, I’m only required to restock ramen and keep the ice cream freezer functional. Everything else is vibes.”

The man had a point.

You sighed and leaned your weight against the island, glancing at the stack of drafts you were supposed to be editing.

Your job at the magazine was chaos wrapped in cute fonts and pastel Excel sheets. But nothing came close to the ‘dumbbell stuck up his ass’ that lived in Apartment 7B across the hall.

Jeon Jungkook. Gym trainer. Problem. Possibly demon. Definitely the reason your hallway smelled like Febreze and sin on most days.

Two years of being neighbors and your mutual hatred had evolved like a Pokémon.

It started with him stealing your designated parking spot (that you paid for) and when you confronted him, he just leaned against his stupidly shiny car, looked you dead in the eye and said, “Oh, sorry princess. Want me to draw you another with a crayon?”—and it snowballed from there.

He played his music too loud. You once shut off the power to his unit from the maintenance panel in revenge. He retaliated by signing you up for daily protein shake samples. You retaliated harder by pretending to be his landlord and threatening eviction.

It was the ‘Cold War of Apartment 7A and 7B.’

Yoongi reached for his coffee lazily. “So. Still planning on throwing something at him?”

“If he breathes in my direction today, yeah.”

“Atta girl.”

You both moved toward the door, Yoongi gathering his things while humming something off-tune. He adjusted the beanie on his head, slung his bag over his shoulder and opened the front door—only to stop short.

You peered over his shoulder.

There he was.

Jeon Jungkook. In all his morning menace glory. Messy hair, black hoodie, shorts, mismatched socks, and three garbage bags clutched in his arms like he was hauling the corpses of his enemies.

He muttered under his breath as one of the bags slipped from his grip. “Stupid slippery bastard… who triple bags cat litter, what the hell…”

Yoongi raised a brow and didn’t move. “Who bit your ass this morning, darling?”

Jungkook froze mid-crouch. He looked up, eyes narrowing into slits as he caught both of you watching him from the doorway.

“What are you two staring at? Haven’t you ever seen a man take out the trash?” he snapped.

“Frequently. Just not one who is trash,” you said sweetly.

His mouth opened. Closed. Then he scowled. “You’re lucky I’m holding biohazard material or I’d throw hands.”

Yoongi tilted his head. “Oh no, not the kitty litter fists.”

Jungkook glared daggers. You gave him your best fake smile and shut the door.

Yoongi exhaled slowly. “God, I love that you live across from that. It’s like a sitcom that forgot it’s supposed to end.”

You laughed, locking the door behind you. “I don’t even need cable. I just need Jungkook to trip over his own ego.”

As you both headed down the stairs, Yoongi nudged your shoulder. “So. You gonna ask him out, or do I have to fake date you just to make him jealous?”

“I will pour instant coffee into your gas tank.”

He grinned. “Still not a no.”

Yoongi tossed his empty coffee cup into the passenger-side bin with practiced ease, then slumped into the passenger seat of your car like someone who had lost all will to fight gravity.

You followed right after, pulling your seatbelt across with a sigh that felt deeper than it should have for 9:22 a.m.

The car hummed to life with a soft growl as you pulled out of the parking spot—your parking spot, the one Jungkook had tried to illegally colonize like some smug, protein-packed explorer.

Yoongi leaned against the window, his breath fogging up the glass. “Okay, serious question.”

You glanced sideways. “This should be good.”

“Why don’t you just move?”

You frowned. “Move?”

“Yeah. New place, new hallway, fewer protein shakes showing up in your mailbox by ‘accident.’ I’ll help you find one. I’ve got connections. One of my regulars manages three buildings and owes me for letting him steal Snickers bars last year without judgment.”

You scoffed. “You also let that old lady shoplift gummy worms, so that’s a low bar.”

Yoongi shrugged. “Justice is selective.” Then, more seriously, “I’m serious. If it’s really eating at you, why stay?”

You kept your eyes on the road, fingers tightening just a bit on the wheel. “Because I’m not in the headspace to pack up my whole life and start somewhere else just because an asshat with an undercut doesn’t understand hallway etiquette.”

Yoongi gave a small hum of acknowledgment.

“That’s fair.”

A beat passed in silence. Then:

“He does have a pretty undercut, though.”

“I will drive us into a tree.”

“I said pretty. Not that I like it.” He paused. “Though, technically, I’d still be the hottest guy in your life.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the grin that snuck onto your face. “You’re literally held together by sarcasm and instant noodles.”

“And yet,” he said smugly, “still top-tier.”

You pulled up in front of his convenience store, parked sloppily, and leaned across to unlock the passenger door. He didn’t move immediately.

“You sure you’re okay?” he asked, tilting his head slightly.

“Yeah,” you said, nodding. “Just tired.”

“Is that code for ‘Jungkook breathed too loud again’?”

“Always is.”

He gave your shoulder a quick squeeze, then stepped out with a dramatic grunt. “Go sell your soul to capitalism, sweetheart.”

“You too, king of overpriced gum.”

He shut the door with a wave, disappearing into the warm hum of flickering fluorescent lights and humming fridges. You took a second to breathe. Just a second. Then shifted gears and headed for your office.

---

Your magazine office sat in a modest building with pastel walls and vintage posters of outdated fashion ads. You made your way up the stairs with the kind of existential exhaustion only a Jungkook morning could trigger.

Inside, you were greeted by the smell of coffee, printer toner, and the sound of someone humming the chorus to a song that peaked in 2015.

And there he was.

Park Jimin.

Your work husband.

Your platonic soulmate.

Your partner-in-petty.

He was perched on the edge of your desk like a Barbie doll who somehow became human and was now judging your entire vibe. Dressed in a cream sweater tucked into slacks, his earrings sparkled like he was born with a Sephora loyalty card in his bloodstream.

“You look like sin and sleep deprivation,” he said without a hello.

You dropped your bag onto your chair. “Morning to you too, darling.”

He squinted. “Did the hallway demon haunt your dreams again?”

“If by ‘haunt’ you mean 'try to juggle garbage bags like a raccoon in gym shorts'—then yes.”

Jimin gave a high-pitched gasp, the kind that only meant one thing. “Jungkook?”

You raised an eyebrow. “Why do you sound excited?”

“I’m not,” he said way too fast. “Why would I be?”

You folded your arms. “Jimin.”

He picked at invisible lint on his sleeve. “Just because he’s a menace doesn’t mean he isn’t... well... extremely gym-toned. In a criminal kind of way.”

You grinned. “So you admit it. You want to climb him like a jungle gym.”

“I hate you,” he said, blushing to his ears. “Besides, I only met him once.”

“Exactly. That one time you dropped by my place, and he came knocking because he ‘lost’ his cat.”

Jimin pursed his lips. “That cat’s name was—what was it?”

“Punctures.”

“Right. Punctures. Because why name your pet something normal when you can choose dysfunctional.”

You sat down and opened your laptop. “To be fair, the cat did vanish and then reappear under my couch like a poltergeist.”

Jimin giggled. “And Jungkook had the audacity to look innocent while asking if you’d seen his 'angel boy’—as if the devil himself didn’t live in his abs.”

You shook your head, smiling despite the headache pulsing behind your temples. “I swear, even his cat has a superiority complex.”

Jimin leaned his chin on your desk. “So what did our muscle monster do today?”

You sighed dramatically. “Glaring. Garbage. Snarky princess jokes. And the usual refusal to acknowledge personal boundaries.”

Jimin twirled a pen between his fingers. “Sounds like a slow Tuesday.”

You both laughed, the kind of laughter that came from shared suffering.

He tilted his head and smiled softly. “You gonna be okay?”

“Eventually. Just gotta outlive him.”

Jimin raised a perfectly shaped brow. “You sure it’s hate and not the slow-burn-to-lovers pipeline?”

You gave him a look so withering it could melt paint. “Don’t start.”

He grinned. “Too late.”

The sound of a coffee cup being set down gently on the counter nearby pulled both you and Jimin from your spiraling commentary.

“Morning, angels,” came the deep, honey-smooth voice that never failed to send a jolt right through your central nervous system.

Kim Taehyung.

Tall, devastatingly pretty, with a face sculpted like someone up there was in a very good mood when they made him. Loose white shirt tucked into black pants, a chain around his neck that glittered in the morning light, and that signature sleepy smile that had ruined your last three office meetings.

You straightened up a little in your seat. Not enough to be obvious. Just… respectable.

Jimin, of course, caught it immediately. He turned his head slowly toward you, smirking like the traitor he was.

“Hey, Tae,” you said, doing your best to sound cool and casual. “You’re in early.”

Taehyung gave a lazy shrug as he set down a file on his desk. “Wanted to get a few things sorted. Also, the coffee here is stronger than my will to live.”

Jimin clapped his hands. “That makes all three of us.”

Taehyung’s eyes flicked back to you. “By the way, I meant to ask—do you have a minute later? I need help checking some layouts for the travel section. Thought of you immediately. You’ve got an eye for aesthetics.”

You blinked once. Twice. “Oh. Yeah. Sure. I can make time after lunch.”

He smiled again. Slow. Soft. A little smug. “Perfect. I’ll owe you one.”

Jimin wiggled his eyebrows behind him, mouthing, “Eye for aesthetics, huh?” You barely resisted the urge to kick him under the desk.

As Taehyung opened his laptop and began clicking through tabs, he added, almost absentmindedly, “Oh, and I’ll be on leave the day after tomorrow. Just two days. I’m moving into a new place. Need to set everything up.”

You looked up. “Oh yeah? Where to?”

“Same building I’m already in,” he said, sipping his coffee. “But I’m moving into a different unit. One of the tenants is looking for a roommate. Said he’s got a spare room.”

“Nice,” you replied, a little distracted by the image of Taehyung with moving boxes. Sleeves rolled up. Hair messy. Probably with a pencil behind his ear and a couch stubbornly stuck in the hallway. “Hope your new roommate’s not a serial killer.”

Taehyung laughed. “If he is, I just hope he’s polite about it.”

Jimin tilted his head. “What unit is it?”

Taehyung paused for a second. “Uhh. Seven... B, I think?”

You and Jimin froze at the same time.

But only Jimin’s eyes widened in realization. Yours were still catching up.

“Seven B?” you repeated slowly, the number not quite settling in your head yet. “That sounds... familiar.”

Taehyung nodded. “Apparently it’s a gym trainer dude. Said the last roommate moved out because of a job shift or something.”

You blinked again. “Gym trainer...”

Taehyung smiled. “Jungkook, I think his name was?”

You choked on air. Jimin let out a snort so violent it sounded like a dying kettle.

“Wait. You’re moving in with Jungkook?” you asked, your voice rising just slightly.

Taehyung looked amused. “Yeah. Why? You know him?”

Jimin slapped a hand over his mouth, clearly enjoying this a little too much. You stared blankly, brain short-circuiting.

“I know him,” you said slowly. “He’s my neighbor.”

Taehyung blinked. “Oh. Small world.”

You forced a smile. “Yeah. Tiny. Cramped. Suffocating, even.”

He tilted his head. “Should I be worried?”

You waved a hand. “No. Not unless you enjoy your hallway smelling like pre-workout and passive aggression.”

Taehyung grinned. “Sounds like a party.”

Jimin leaned in close to your ear, voice hushed but gleeful. “Oh, this is going to be *so good.*”

You groaned. “This is going to be a nightmare.”

The day of Taehyung’s move-in came faster than you expected.

You had already told Yoongi two days before, while standing behind the counter at his store. His only response had been a muttered, “Jesus,” followed by a five-minute rant about karma having a personal grudge against you.

What you did ignore less was how you and Jungkook had not mentioned it. Not once. Not in the elevator. Not during that brief moment last night when he passed you in the hallway carrying a carton of eggs like it personally offended him.

Not even when you both reached for the same packet of garbage bags in the building supply closet and nearly ripped it in half out of mutual pettiness.

Radio silence.

Jimin, of course, had no such filter.

“Oh you’re cooked,” he’d giggled, doubled over beside the office printer, one manicured hand on your shoulder. “He’s going to walk into your life every morning smelling like Jungkook and testosterone and you’re gonna suffer. I’m gonna make popcorn.”

You flipped him off and changed the subject.

Now you were combusting for real.

Taehyung was holding a box, arms flexed with the effort, veins visible under his skin like the universe had turned up the detail settings just to mess with you. His hair was slightly damp from the heat outside, and there was a little smile on his lips like moving into a potential frat-boy war zone didn’t faze him at all.

He looked like a painting.

And he was standing right in front of Jungkook’s open apartment door.

You were officially the main character in your own nightmare.

“Need help with that?” you blurted before your brain could intercept.

Taehyung grinned. “I would never say no to help from a beautiful woman.”

You wanted to melt. Or combust. Or vanish into the drywall.

Unfortunately, none of those things happened.

Instead, you took a careful step closer, mentally rehearsing a facial expression that didn’t scream please notice me instead of the loud man you’re about to share a couch with.

“Big box,” you said.

“Big arms,” Taehyung replied, flexing slightly with a smirk that bordered on criminal.

Your gaze dropped.

You regretted it immediately.

Taehyung’s biceps were straining against his t-shirt, golden skin glowing under the building’s hallway light. He adjusted the box, muscles shifting and pulling like they had absolutely no business being attached to a man who alphabetized his playlists.

You blinked. The trance broke.

Because just then, the temperature dropped about ten degrees.

And Jeon Jungkook walked out of his apartment.

Sweatpants. Tight black tank top.

Hair messy. Eyes sharper than broken glass.

He looked between you and Taehyung.

His gaze landed on you.

“What’s going on?” Jungkook asked.

Not hi. Not oh look, it’s my hallway nemesis. Just that.

Your spine straightened on instinct.

“Helping,” you said.

“Helping,” he echoed, tone skeptical. “You two know each other?”

You opened your mouth. Taehyung beat you to it.

“Yeah,” he said brightly. “We work together. She’s the only person in editorial who doesn’t make me want to scream. Well, most of the time.”

Your stomach twisted.

Jungkook tilted his head.

“That’s sweet,” he said, voice pure sarcasm. “Real heartwarming.”

Taehyung blinked once, glancing between you and Jungkook. Something flickered behind his smile. Curiosity. Maybe suspicion. But he didn’t say anything.

“I’ll go put this down,” he said instead, slipping into the apartment with his box, leaving the two of you in the hallway.

He turned and disappeared into the apartment, leaving you and Jungkook in the hallway. Alone.

You didn’t speak.

He didn’t either.

You stared at each other like two chess players silently daring the other to make the first move.

Then your eyes flicked downward. Black tank. Veins. Shoulders. Everything about him was tight and firm and unfair. Even the sweatpants were offensive. Your gaze lingered a little too long.

You realized it too late.

His mouth twitched. “You checking me out, neighbor?”

You rolled your eyes so hard it gave you a headache. “Please. I was debating whether or not your face has always been that punchable.”

He took a step closer.

You didn’t move.

Another step.

Now he was right in front of you. You could smell his body wash and the faintest trace of aftershave and probably your impending doom.

He leaned down slightly, voice low and sharp. “Stay away from him.”

“What?”

“I don’t want you anywhere near my roommate. I don’t want you bringing over baked goods, I don’t want you giving him your tragic little smiles. Just—don’t.”

You blinked. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” he said. “Or maybe you’re just desperate enough to bounce to the next set of arms that walk by.”

Your jaw tightened. “At least he doesn’t slam doors at 2 a.m. and treat the hallway like a personal wrestling mat.”

“At least he doesn’t leave three-day-old Pad Thai in the trash chute.”

“That was one time.”

“Try four.”

The air crackled. You hadn’t even realized how close you were until your shoulders touched. Your breath hitched. His eyes flicked to your mouth.

You scoffed, shaking your head. “You’re actually insane. It’s not like that. I would rather step on a plug barefoot than flirt with your roommate.”

He raised an eyebrow. “You sure? Because you were staring at his arms like you were about to crawl inside his ribcage and live there.”

Your nostrils flared. “Oh, I’m sorry. Didn’t realize you were monitoring my eyeballs now.”

He tilted his head. “I notice things. Like how you get real quiet when someone hotter than me walks by.”

You shoved his shoulder. “You are not my type.”

He didn’t move. “No?”

“Not even close.”

“Then why are you blushing?”

“I’m not—oh my god—”

“Get a life,” you snapped, storming into your apartment and slamming the door shut behind you.

Jungkook’s voice called faintly through the wall.

“Enjoy your view, sweetheart!”

You flipped off the air and screamed into a cushion.

Jimin was right.

you were going to combust.

It had been four days since Taehyung moved in.

And somehow, in that painfully short span of time, your life had managed to go from mildly annoying to biblical plague levels of emotionally unstable.

Every morning was a personal test of endurance.

Because every morning — without fail — you saw him.

Not Jungkook.

The other him.

Kim Taehyung.

Your coworker. Your walking Greek statue of a crush. Your poetic little mistake-in-the-making.

Now also: Your neighbor. Your hallway torment. Your reason for walking out of your apartment in sunglasses and a moral crisis.

It always happened the same way. You’d step out of your apartment with your tote bag slung over your shoulder, caffeine-deprived and already regretting existence — only to find him standing there in front of 7B’s door. Half-zipped hoodie, tousled hair, coffee in hand, eyes crinkling with that boyish smile that made your IQ drop about 20 points.

“Morning,” he’d greet, voice low and warm and just slightly flirty. The kind of tone that made your stomach twist and your dignity combust.

You’d wave. Maybe mumble back something like “Hey” or “Morning,” which sounded perfectly normal until you replayed it ten minutes later and realized you had smiled like an idiot and then walked into the elevator wall.

Today was no different.

You opened your door just as Taehyung did, and you had exactly three seconds to prepare yourself.

Too late.

His hair was damp. Still wet from a shower. A few strands clung to his forehead. He was wearing grey sweats — criminal — and a dark green shirt that looked very lived in and very illegal.

“Morning,” he said again, all casual confidence, like he hadn’t just appeared in slow motion with soft lighting and background music that only played in your personal hell.

You gave him a tight smile. “Hey.”

He glanced at his phone, then at you. “You heading to the office?”

“Yep.”

He shifted his coffee to his other hand. “Want to go together? I’ve got my car downstairs. I don’t mind driving.”

Your heart stuttered. Your brain did not process that like a normal human.

“No, it’s fine,” you said too fast, waving him off. “I like walking. It keeps me humble.”

He blinked, amused. “Humble?”

“Yeah. You know. Reminds me that life is a grind. Makes me less likely to throw myself at anyone with biceps.”

He chuckled. “Noted.”

You internally screamed.

He smiled at you again — that gentle, warm smile like he didn’t know he’d just offered a ride to a person actively trying to avoid developing a full-blown obsession.

You nodded at him. “See you at work.”

Then you turned and practically ran for the stairs.

⸻

By the time you got outside, you were out of breath — from the stairs, sure, but mostly from holding in a scream.

This was hell. Not a metaphorical one. Actual, emotional hell. You had a man with the face of a Renaissance painting asking if you wanted a ride to work and you said no because his roommate was a protein-fueled menace with an attitude problem and a jawline that could cut glass.

You were unwell. And possibly cursed.

You stared at your reflection in the building’s front door as you adjusted your jacket.

Your hair was frizzy. Your shirt had a weird crease.

You looked like someone who had definitely turned down hot guy carpooling due to unresolved neighbor trauma.

Worse — Taehyung was so genuinely nice it made everything worse.

You couldn’t even be mad at him for existing.

You were just mad that the universe had the audacity to shove him into Jungkook’s apartment like it was a sitcom plot twist.

And now you had to play it cool at the office.

Pretend like you hadn’t just seen the man who made you physically dizzy.

Pretend like Jimin wasn’t going to read your whole energy the moment he laid eyes on you.

Pretend like you didn’t still hear Jungkook’s voice from four nights ago when he muttered, “Stay away from him.”

You shut your eyes and whispered to yourself as you crossed the street:

“Thirst is temporary. Pride is forever. Thirst is temporary. Pride is for—”

A car honked. You almost walked into a light pole.

Cool. Great start to the day.

⸻

Next stop: your office. And you already knew Jimin was going to have opinions.

But right now, you had bigger things to survive: your crush. Your enemy. And the very thin walls that separated them.

⸻

You had just finished rewriting a sentence for the seventh time when the door to the office flew open with the kind of dramatic flair usually reserved for K-pop finales and divine interventions.

Park Jimin walked in like he owned the place.

Technically, he didn’t.

But spiritually? Emotionally? In terms of ‘vibe authority’?

Absolutely.

“Guess who overslept because someone set my alarm to Taylor Swift’s All Too Well ten-minute version and I thought it was a dream sequence?” he announced to no one in particular.

You looked up just in time to catch him tossing his bag onto his chair like a runway model doing the emotional baggage walk.

“Jimin,” you deadpanned, “do you have any idea how quiet and terrifying it is here without you?”

He gave you a pitying look. “Did you miss me? Or did your internal monologue get tired of monologuing alone?”

“Both,” you muttered, then glanced at his outfit. “Also, why do you look like a Pinterest board for fall romance?”

He struck a pose, dramatically adjusting his oversized sweater. “Because heartbreak is couture. And also because I live with crippling main character syndrome.”

You rolled your eyes but didn’t bother hiding your smile.

He plopped into his chair and sighed, dramatically, as if simply existing in a capitalist world was too much effort.

Then he looked at you.

Really looked at you.

Head tilted.

Eyes narrowing.

You braced for it.

“I know that face,” he said slowly. “That’s your ‘I’ve just had an internal crisis and am pretending I haven’t’ face.”

You blinked innocently. “I do not have a crisis face.”

“Oh, honey,” he scoffed. “You have a gallery of crisis faces.”

You opened your mouth to respond — but of course, he wasn’t done.

“So.” He leaned in conspiratorially, elbows on the desk like a gossiping oracle. “What happened? Did the hallway himbo say something dumb again? Did his tank top offend your moral compass? Did you finally snap and throw a protein shake at his head?”

You stared at your screen, debating how much to share.

Jimin stared at you. “Is this about Taehyung?”

Your eye twitched. “Why would it be?”

“Oh my god.” He gasped. “It is.”

“It’s not.”

“It is.”

You groaned and dropped your head into your hands. “I am going to spontaneously combust.”

Jimin clapped his hands like a delighted psychic. “See? This is why I come to work. Forget my salary. This is entertainment.”

You peeked at him through your fingers. “You know he offered to drive me to work today?”

Jimin’s jaw dropped. “And you said…?”

“I said no.”

He gasped like you had personally slapped him with a designer shoe. “You said no to Taehyung? Are you okay? Did Jungkook give you a lobotomy?”

You groaned louder. “I said no because he’s Jungkook’s roommate. It’s complicated.”

Jimin paused.

And then — he smiled.

It was the kind of smile that meant something deeply chaotic was about to leave his mouth.

“So, speaking of your protein-powered hallway nemesis…”

You straightened. “What about him?”

“I saw him this morning.”

Your stomach did a thing it had no right to do. “Where?”

“Corner café. With someone.”

You blinked. “A girl?”

He shrugged nonchalantly. “Could’ve been a relative. Could’ve been a situationship. Could’ve been his tax accountant.”

You tried not to react. You really did.

But Jimin saw right through you.

“Ooooh,” he sang, tapping his chin. “That’s the face of someone who does not, in fact, hate Jungkook as much as she claims.”

You turned slowly toward him. “If you don’t stop talking in dramatic one-liners, I’m going to stab you with my clicky pen.”

He gasped. “Violence? In this economy?”

You huffed and sat back in your chair, arms crossed.

And then, quietly: “Do you think he was on a date?”

Jimin didn’t answer immediately.

He studied you — not playfully this time. Not teasing.

Then he leaned in again, voice softer. “Do you want him to be?”

You hated that the question made your heart stutter.

You didn’t know.

You weren’t supposed to care.

You were supposed to loathe him — passionately, poetically, completely.

But lately…

You were starting to wonder if hate and want had ever really been that different.

Jimin smiled gently, like he knew exactly what you were thinking. “You’re in deep, aren’t you?”

You opened your mouth. Closed it. Then looked away.

“I don’t know what I’m in,” you admitted.

Jimin leaned back, arms folded. “Well, whatever it is — it’s gonna be messy.”

You laughed under your breath. “Aren’t all the best stories?”

He winked. “Especially when they involve a man with biceps and unresolved emotional repression.”

—-

You should’ve been relieved to leave the office.

End of day. Done with deadlines. Done with pointless meetings and coworkers who typed with the aggression of war generals. The city lights were dimming outside your windshield as you sat in the driver’s seat, hands limp on the steering wheel, waiting for your thoughts to shut up.

But they didn’t.

Because somewhere between replying to emails and dodging Park Jimin’s painfully accurate psychoanalysis, your brain had quietly entered panic mode.

About one person.

Again.

Jungkook.

You sighed, pressing your head back against the headrest as your reflection stared back at you from the rearview mirror — tired eyes, lips pressed, the faintest wrinkle forming between your brows.

Why were you so… preoccupied?

It had been a year.

A whole year of this bizarre dance between you and him.

You’d moved into that apartment across from 7B assuming the worst part would be the creaky plumbing and fluorescent hallway lighting.

You were wrong.

The worst part was the man next door.

Jeon Jungkook.

Infuriating. Loud. Built like a Greek tragedy with a protein shake addiction.

And yet — you noticed when he wasn’t around. You replayed arguments. You saw his stupid smirk in your sleep.

why him?

Why now?

You leaned your head against the driver’s seat for a second before putting your keys into the ignition, sighing hard through your nose like that might settle the ache in your chest.

You’d gone a whole day without seeing him — and that should’ve been a good thing.

It wasn’t.

And it wasn’t just him either. There was… Taehyung.

Your new neighbor. Your new problem. Gorgeous, charming, too-pretty-for-this-world Taehyung, who moved into Jungkook’s apartment just yesterday and already fluttered something inside you that you weren’t ready to name.

Was that what this was?

The sudden awareness?

Was it because the man across the hall who once irritated you into oblivion now had a new variable in your life? A second heartbeat you could hear through the wall?

You weren’t sure.

You hated that you weren’t sure.

One thing you did know: Jungkook hadn’t crossed your mind like this before. At least not with this much force. Not with this twist in your stomach or the echo of his voice running laps in your head.

You pulled into the lot, a little more irritable than when you’d left the office. The lights from the building flickered against your windshield. You killed the engine and stepped out with a sigh, bag slung over your shoulder like it was dragging you down more than it should.

Your phone buzzed.

“At your place. You better have snacks or I’m stealing your toaster.”

Yoongi. You blinked. Right. He had a spare key.

Of course he did.

Why wouldn’t your grumpy part-time philosopher best friend just materialize inside your apartment like a cryptic raccoon?

You started typing back a dry “i just arrived, donut demon” but you weren’t really looking where you were going.

You stepped inside.

The doors closed.

And then your stomach dropped.

Because something felt… off.

The air. The silence. The way your skin prickled like something was just behind you.

You turned slowly.

There he was.

Jungkook.

Hood up, arms folded across his chest, standing in the back of the elevator like he lived for dramatic re-entrances into your life.

You screamed.

He blinked at you, deadpan. “Really?”

You backed up into the corner. “What— why are you everywhere?!”

He raised a brow. “I live here.”

“You— you could’ve said something!”

“I figured you had eyes,” he said flatly. “That was my mistake.”

You gritted your teeth. “Are you stalking me?”

“Are you serious?”

You glared, shifting as far away from him as physically possible in a 4x4 metal box. “I need to start carrying holy water.”

He rolled his eyes. “And I need to start using the stairs.”

You went silent. So did he.

The space between you was heavy. Awkward. Breathing felt like effort.

You focused on the elevator buttons, staring at the glowing floor numbers like they were responsible for your heart rate. You’d never been this aware of another person’s presence before — like his heat was something crawling up your spine.

Why is he everywhere lately?

Why does his silence feel so loud?

Why do I care if I don’t care?

You bit your lip.

Jungkook cleared his throat.

And then — just like that — everything went dark.

The elevator stopped.

The hum of motion halted.

The overhead lights flickered once… and went out.

You froze.

Silence.

Heavy, solid silence.

Then:

“…did that really just happen?” he asked.

You blinked into the dark. “Shit.”

You fumbled for your phone, immediately unlocking it.

“Texting your emotional support cryptid?” he asked dryly.

“Yes,” you snapped. “Yoongi’s in my apartment.”

“Convenient.”

You didn’t answer. Because in the next moment — the elevator jolted.

The floor dipped. The walls creaked. You lurched forward on instinct, a breath caught in your throat as your weight shifted.

Straight into Jungkook.

His arms caught you fast — steady, firm — one hand on your waist, the other instinctively braced against your back.

You were pressed up against him.

Warm.

Solid.

Too close.

You both didn’t move. Breaths uneven. Chests rising and falling in tandem.

You couldn’t see much. Just outlines. Shadows.

But you knew exactly where his face was.

Exactly how close his lips were to yours.

His hold didn’t loosen. And for a second, you didn’t want him to.

“…Let go,” you whispered, unsure if you meant it.

His voice came low. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.”

Still, he didn’t let go.

The elevator was dead still.

You could feel his breath.

You could hear his heart.

It was… steady. Strong.

You felt small. But not weak.

“You don’t need to hold me like that,” you said, barely a whisper.

“Like what?” he murmured.

“Like i’ll break.”

“You won’t,” he said, almost too fast.

You almost laughed. “That sounded real convincing.”

“I could say the same to you,” he muttered. “You’re still in my arms.”

You hesitated. “Because I was about to fall.”

“And now?”

You didn’t answer.

And he didn’t move.

The silence thickened again — not awkward this time. Tense. Loud.

You knew this moment would stick. The kind of moment that lived in your bloodstream long after it passed.

And then — without a word — his hand slid up slightly.

Not invasive. Just deliberate.

His fingers brushed the side of your arm — slow, cautious — like he was trying to memorize something. A shape. A feeling.

You swallowed. “Why are you—?”

Before you could finish, the lights flickered.

The elevator shuddered once.

And then — it moved.

The hum returned. The floor number ticked up. The weight of what just happened hit both of you all at once.

You pulled away first.

Too fast. Too guilty.

He didn’t say anything.

Neither did you.

When the doors opened, you didn’t wait.

You walked out like your shoes were on fire. Practically sprinting down the hallway toward your apartment, your heart thudding too fast, your thoughts screaming over one another.

You opened the door, slammed it behind you, and pressed your back to it like you could keep the feelings out that way.

Yoongi sat on your couch, hoodie half-zipped, a bag of chips open in his lap.

He didn’t even look up.

“Who licked your brain?” he asked flatly.

You didn’t answer.

You just stood there — dizzy, breathless, and one wrong word away from combusting.

©️TEASTEEPER 2025. please do not translate, steal or copy any of my works.

[bunnyykoo]

BACK IN YOUR ARMS ⭒ JJK

in which jungkook returns from his military service to reunite with his girl, spending a passionate night filled with love and longing after their separation.

pairing — dom!jungkook x sub!femreader

genre — established relationship, reunion, military enlistment, long distance relationship, slice of life, angst, smut, fluff

warnings/tags — 18+, explicit smut, possessive!jungkook, soulmate vibes, hurt and comfort, longing, separation anxiety, love confessions, desperation, emotional intensity, heartbreak, lots of sex scenes, several orgasms, different positions, emotional sex, reunion sex, unprotected sex, creampie, oral sex (f. receiving), making out, hickies and marking, body worshipping, eating out, face riding, face sitting, tongue fucking, clit stimulation, cum swallowing, lots of breast play, nipple play, overstimulation, forced orgasms, pain from pleasure, dirty talk, praise kink, fingering, pussy inspection, hair fisting and pulling, oral sex (m. receiving), blowjob, deep throating, gagging and choking, face fucking, 69 position, mutual oral sex, rough sex, missionary, cum play, loving aftercare

wc — 7.3k

a/n — this one was requested by some of my lovies! I also decided to write this because our man just got discharged from the military and came home to us hehe, hope y'all enjoy this! <3

series m. list | main m. list

────୨ৎ────

The morning of jungkook's departure for his military service broke through, almost like the universe itself mourned for the separation.

You stood outside the recruitment center, the crowd around you full of chaos—families holding each other, lots of other recruits with their belongings looking sad and disliking the separation.

The air was thick with heavy grief.

And you could feel it press against your chest but all you could focus on was jungkook, your boyfriend, standing before you.

His presence intensifying all the emotions you were feeling.

His dark hair was slightly overgrown and messy from the restless passionate night you'd both spent.

His jaw was often set in a grumpy line when he faced the world.

To others he was almost unapproachable, a man who carried himself with intensity.

Pushing people away.

But with you he was completely different.

His dark eyes soften when they meet yours, filling with warmth that made your heart flutter, his smile—was yours alone.

A secret shared between you two.

To him you were his entire world, the one person who he could be himself with, who could unravel his distant personality and bring out the tender love he hid from everyone else.

Your hands tremble as you clutched his, fingers intertwining tightly.

A desperate attempt to hold onto him.

His hands were warm and calloused, his thumbs brushing over the backs of your hands in a slow, soothing motion.

As if he could take away the heartbreak inside you.

You leaned onto him, his scent enveloping you—clean male and his usual cologne.

It was a scent you were used to and it always surrounds you with safety and love, now it was a cruel reminder of what you were about to lose. His scent that will still linger in your clothes and your apartment once he's gone.

His absence undeniable.

“I don’t wanna go.” jungkook murmurs.

He leans down, pressing his forehead against yours, warm breath brushing over your lips.

The closeness was desperate.

He wished that he could stop time.

Plead for it.

His dark eyes search yours, filling with emotions—fear, love and anger at the separation none of you could stop.

“This is fucking torture, baby. I can’t do this… staying without you.”

Your throat tighten at his words, making it hard for you to swallow as tears welled in your eyes even though you promised him not to cry.

You could see the pain in his features, the way his brows furrowed and the way his lips trembled despite his efforts to stay strong for you.

“You’ll come back to me.” you whisper.

Voice quivering.

He lets out a shaky breath, hands moving to cup your face, thumbs brushing away the tears, his touch firm.

Grounding you.

Even though it felt like the world was crumbling around you.

“I promise, sweet girl. I’ll count every damn hour until I’m back holding you in my arms.”

His were were a vow

A lifeline.

You could hear the rumble of the bus in the distance, reminding you of the reality you both are going to face.

You looked at the other families clinging to each other for the last moment and everything was overwhelming for you, their sorrow matching your own.

“kookie…” you whimper.

Your fingers clutch the fabric of his shirt tightly, his heart pounding underneath your palm, a rhythm that seemed to increase now.

You press yourself closer as if you could mend your body to his, all while he's gripping your waist in such a tight grip it almost hurts, but it still wasn’t enough.

Like you could keep him from leaving.

“I’m scared. I’m so scared of what its gonna be like without you here.”

He pulled you into his arms, chin resting on the top of your head and you buried your face in his chest, inhaling his familiar scent.

Imprinting it in your memory.

“I’m scared too.” he admits.

His lips pressing on your cheek, voice raw and pained.

“I’m fucking terrified, baby, but you’re stronger than you think… you’re my brave girl and you’re gonna be okay, I’m going to be back before you even know it.”

“I’ll write to you every chance I get and call you whenever they let me. You're not losing me, you hear me? hmm?”

His words help with the ache in your chest and you tilted your head up, meeting his eyes, seeing the tears glistening in his eyes as well.

“Promise me you’ll be careful.” you breathe, shakily.

“I promise.” he said, fiercely.

His hands tightening on your face.

“I’ll come back to you… nothing’s gonna keep me away from you.”

The officer's voice came through, calling jungkook's name with an impatience that knotted your stomach, your knees getting weak as you clung to him.

Fingers digging harder into his chest, desperate to hold onto the moment.

“No, not yet please.” you beg.

His hand slides to your shoulders, gripping them.

“I don’t wanna let you go.”

His voice hoarse.

“Fuck, I’d give anything to stay here with you, to have you next to me...”

You sobbed as you buried your face in his chest again, his arms tightening around you, breath hitching as he pressed his lips to the top of your head.

“I love you.” you choked out.

Muffled in his chest, he holds you tightly, almost trying to anchor you to him.

“I love you more.” he says, fiercely.

He lifts your chin to meet his, eyes burning with a love so fierce.

That it stole your breath.

“You’re my only girl.”

His lips crash against yours, a kiss that was desperate, hungry and full of everything he couldn’t say.

His mouth was urgent, exploring everything and his minty taste fill your mouth.

An intimacy you’d shared so many times before.

His hands cup the back of your head, fingers tangling in your hair.

His hands cupped the back of your thighs, you got the gesture and jumped, causing him to pick you up.

Your legs wrapping around his waist as he pulls you closer.

The kiss was a moment of connection before the separation and he pours every ounce of love into it, your tears mixing with his as they fell.

Both of you tasting the salt of the tears.

His lips moving against yours spoke of the months apart, the nights that will be spent with longing for a love in the distance.

The officer called his name again, sharper this time and jungkook reluctantly pulled back, both your breaths ragged.

His eyes locked on yours, his hands lingering on your face, thumbs brushing over your cheeks one last time.

“Wait for me, love.”

His voice a growl.

“Always,” you promised.

“until I’m back in your arms”

He pressed one last kiss to your forehead, lips lingering and then he steps back, his hands slipping from yours, losing his touch.

It felt like a physical wound.

He grabbed his duffel bag, slinging it over his shoulder, his jaw clench tightly and he looks at you one last time.

You waved, covering your lips to muffle the cry.

He turns, his tall and strong figure sulking down in sadness as he walks towards the gate.

Soon the crowd swallows him and you watched until he disappeared, your chest hurting beyond words.

You stood there long after he was gone, the coldness setting in your body, no longer receiving the warmth his presence provided.

You turn away from the center, steps slow, heart heavy.

The world already felt emptier without him.

۶ৎ

The months that followed were full of longing.

jungkook's military service was taking up all his time and the communication was very rare.

You sometimes wrote letters to each other, pouring your heart onto the paper.

The letters contained the simplest details of your life as you describe the weather, the new candles you bought or the way you wore his oversized shirts to bed.

To feel closer to him.

His letters back were hurried in his messy handwriting, but each word was so full of love and adoration.

“I miss your laugh.”

He wrote in one.

“I miss the way you scrunch your nose when you’re shy. I miss holding you… I can’t breathe without you.”

Phone calls were very occasional.

Only when he got a break but it was never enough.

His voice always heavy with tiredness.

“I’m counting the days,” he says.

“You’re the only thing keeping me sane here, baby.”

You'd cry after each call, clutching the phone to your chest, his voice breaking you more.

The apartment felt too big without him, the silence too loud, his scent still lingers everywhere, especially on his pillow that gave you company in his absence.

It was fading, you realized but you’d bury your face in it every night, chasing even the bits of his scent.

As you wait.

Counting the days, clinging to the promise of his return.

Your love for him the only thing keeping you tethered.

۶ৎ

The day of jungkook's discharge arrives.

For him the military enlistment was a place with tiring months—full of orders, work and a deep ache for the life he’d left behind.

Now, standing at the first day of his freedom, his heart raced with a single all consuming thought: you.

jungkook adjusted the strap of his duffel bag, scanning the crowd that had gathered.

Waiting for their own reunion.

But as jungkook's eyes raked over the faces, his chest tightened with a growing panic.

You weren’t there.

The one face he needed to see.

The one that had kept him awake at night was nowhere to be found.

You promised to be here.

In every letter, every phone call, you’d told him that you’ll be the first thing he sees once he comes back.

The memory of your voice was still in his mind.

“I’ll be there, jungkook. I wouldn’t miss it for anything.”

He clung to those words but now, standing alone in the crowd of reunions, doubt came in.

Had something happened? were you hurt?

His fingers tightened around the strap of his bag as he forced himself to move forward, gaze darting left and right searching for your face and the way your eyes always seem to find his in a crowd.

Nothing.

He ran his hand through his hair, it was almost like a habit, one you'd always teased him about, saying he looked like a grumpy bunny when he did it.

You were his anchor.

His reason for enduring the sleepless nights, the training that sucked the soul out of him and the several days of separation

Without you here, it hurt him.

“Everything okay, soldier?”

A man that was with jungkook at the camp, another soldier he had a good interaction with.

“I don’t know…” jungkook admitted.

“My girl… she was supposed to be here.”

“Long time apart, huh? that’s alright, bet she’s waiting for you though... girls like to surprise you sometimes.” the man laughs.

jungkook forces a small smile.

“Yeah, maybe.” he whispers.

The man pats jungkook in the back before heading out.

jungkook decides to head out as well, knowing you are not here.

He approached closer to a cab, voice rough as he gave the address of your shared apartment.

The cab pulls away from the base.

He stared out the window as it was all familiar, he’d dreamed of this moment, returning back home.

Returning to you.

When the cab finally pulled up to the apartment, jungkook quickly came out, his heart hammering as his hands fumbled with the bills, paying the driver.

What if you weren’t there?

What if something had happened?

He slid the key into the lock, pushing the door open, stepping inside with urgency.

His duffel bag hits the ground.

It was quiet all over the apartment, your usual vanilla scent fills him, deepening the urge to see you.

You weren’t there.

“baby?” he calls out.

The stack of new books on the couch tightened his throat.

A reminder of the small promises left unfulfilled because of the separation.

He promised that he will listen to you read those aloud since he knew how much you loved reading novels and he loves hearing you read them to him just as much.

He finally reached the bedroom door, pushing it open, expecting you to be here.

He froze.

The sight before him stealing his breath.

There you were.

Laying on the bed, glowing with the slight sunlight from the window, the sheets on you did little to distract from the vision of you—naked and exposed.

Yet so breathtakingly beautiful.

All your curves exposed to him—the soft swell of your breasts and the curve of your hips, your hair down.

You look at him with wide eyes, full of shyness and also with longing that can be seen from the way your eyes glisten with tears.

Your eyes locked onto his, a flush on your cheeks, hands trembling slightly, betraying the nervous anticipation that was going through you.

Your nipples were hard, pebbled in the cool air and your legs were slightly parted.

A silent invitation that made his mouth go dry.

jungkook dropped to his knees beside the bed in front of you, his entire form filling with relief and desire.

His hands shook reaching for you, cupping your cheek as you closed your eyes, letting out a broken whimper at the feel of his touch after so long.

Your soft skin against his hand ached him with a fierce need.

Almost consuming him.

As his fingers trace your features, making sure that you were real and he wasn’t dreaming

His thumbs brushed away the tears that had gathered in your eyes, his own eyes watering.

“Fuck”

He breathes.

“Baby, you’re… you’re here.”

His eyes roam over you, drinking in every detail—your half lidded eyes, the way your breasts heaved with your shaky breaths.

Especially the way your lips part slightly, glistening with the faint trace of gloss.

His cock twitched in his uniform pants, the fabric suddenly too tight as he felt the heat through him.

He was hard, achingly so.

And the sight of you like this—waiting for him just as he’d dreamed—was taking up all the pent up frustrations and hunger he’d held back for months.

You sat up slightly, voice trembling with emotion.

“I wanted to surprise you.”

You whispered, eyes never leaving his.

“I read your letter, the one where you said… you wanted me waiting for you and I missed you, so I wanted to make it special.”

His heart clenched, his worry leaving him as he leans closer, forehead pressing against yours.

The scent of him immediately makes your heart race.

“I thought something happened to you.” he breathes.

A tear streamed down his face, mixing with yours and his grip on your face tightens as if making sure you were okay.

“I’m right here.” you croak.

Tears spilling down your cheek.

“I’m so sorry I scared you, koo.”

He shook his head, a guttural sound leaving his throat.

“Don’t apologize,”

“You’re here. You’re safe and that’s all that matters.”

His lips crashed against yours, no longer able to hold himself back, the kiss desperate, full of longing and relief after months apart.

His tongue slipped past your lips, tangling with yours, exploring all over.

That expressed exactly how much he missed you.

And how he won't ever let you go.

Your hands clutch at his uniform, bunching the fabric as you pulled him closer, needing to feel every inch of him.

His tongue coaxes out needy noises from you, making him groan in return, the sound sending a shiver down your spine.

His hands don’t stay still as they start roaming all over your body, tracing everywhere, his fingers trembling with the need to memorize you all over again.

He pulled back just enough to look at you, eyes intense.

“Waiting for me like this… my perfect girl.”

Your cheeks flush, a shy smile tugging at your lips despite the throb in your pussy.

“I wanna make you happy,” you whispered.

“I thought about you every day, kookie…”

He groans again, hands sliding down to your hips, gripping them as he pulls you closer to the edge of the bed.

“You have no idea what you do to me,” he growls.

“Seeing you like this… fuck, I’ve dreamt of this every night.”

You reach for him, fingers brushing against the hard planes of his chest through his uniform.

“I love you.” he whispers.

“I love you too.”

He kissed you again, softer this time but no less intense, lips moving against yours, hands sliding up to cup your face once again.

His hands slid down to your thighs, parting them gently and your breath hitched, body already responding to him.

Your pussy was wet, clit pulsing with need, the anticipation of his touch made you dizzy and he noticed.

He always does.

He takes in the sight of you before him.

Ready and waiting.

“Goddamn,” he murmurs.

“What am I gonna do with this girl?”

He leans down, lips brushing against your collarbone, leaving a trail of open mouthed kisses as his hands roam higher, cupping your breasts, weighing them.

His thumbs brush over your hard nipples, drawing a soft gasp from you.

You arched into his touch, hands clutching at his shoulders.

“jungkook…”

All the pleas and begs in his name alone.

jungkook stood, taking off his military uniform, discarding it on the floor, eyes never leaving yours.

His black undershirt strained against his muscular frame that was even broader now after months of working out and training in the military.

His dark eyes rake over your naked form sprawled across the sheets like an offering.

And he was about to devour you.

There was a faint sheen of sweat coating your body, breasts heaving from your pants as your thighs remained parted.

Just enough to reveal the glistening evidence of your arousal.

jungkook snarls, his cock pulsing painfully inside his uniform pants.

The sight of you—his sweet, shy girl, so vulnerable yet waiting for him—lights something primal in him.

His hands shook, reaching for the hem of his undershirt and he yanked the shirt over his head in one swift motion.

His chest full of hard muscles, abs even more prominent now and defined, glistening with sweat.

The tattoos were highlighted on his arm and his body also had scars from training.

All these only added to his rugged look.

“Fuck baby,” he rasped.

“Look at you…”

Your pussy clenched at the adoration in his voice as you shift on the bed, clutching the sheets, a teasing smile on your lips.

“I wanted to be pretty for you.” you croon.

His gaze softens for a moment, a flicker of tenderness breaking through the hunger.

“You’re always pretty,” he said.

“But this… this is fucking torture, I’ve been wanting this for months.”

He stepped closer, hands moving to the buckle of his belt, the metallic clink making your pulse race.

His fingers hurried as he unfastened his pants, shoving them down, only leaving his boxers on.

His bulge was very visible, a wet spot forming on the fabric from the precum beading out of him.

You press your thighs together at the sight of him, instinctively, a soft whimper escaping your lips.

jungkook noticed, lips curling into a smirk that was almost predatory.

“You want me, love?” he teased.

His voice rough.

He finally kicks off his pants and you can see his body, full of power and strength.

Such a stark difference compared to his body before.

And his cock twitched, watching you check him out like the way he was doing to you.

“Please… I need you.” you whisper.

He hums, the sound causing you goosebumps as he climbs onto the bed, his hands find your thighs, pulling you towards him.

Manhandling you.

You let out a squeak.

“Gonna make you feel good.” he husks.

Lips brushing your earlobe.

“I’m going to make up for every fucking day I couldn’t touch you.”

His hands slid up your sides, leaving heat trails in his wake. He paused at your breasts, cupping them and squeezing gently, thumbs rolling your nipples.

It sent a jolt straight to your core and you arched into him.

“jungkook…” You moan, softly.

His eyes locked on your breasts, thumbs continue circling the buds.

“These tits,” he grumbles.

“I’ve been thinking about them… so soft, so perfect.”

He pinched the nipples gently, flicking them and you let out a whine, hips bucking towards him.

He lowered his head, lips closing around one and you cried out, hands tangling in his short hair, tugging.

His mouth hot, sucking onto the sensitive bud and his tongue swirls with a fast pace that makes your toes curl.

You let out a broken moan, his teeth grazing lightly over your nipple.

“Oh god… jungkook”

He moved to your other breast, giving it the same attention, lips and tongue working in tandem.

His hand continues to knead the neglected one, pinching and tugging until you were writhing beneath him, bunching the sheets.

Your nipples swollen, glistening with his saliva and the sight seemed to drive him wild.

“mm… you’re so sensitive.”

A deep chuckle rumble from his chest, lips brushing your skin as he speaks.

You could feel the slickness pooling between your thighs, coating your folds.

Your lips remain parted, panting.

“Please.” you signed.

Your hands tugging at his hair.

“I need more…”

He smirks, tongue coming out to lick his bottom lip in a sensual way that has your eyes dilating.

“Oh, baby… I’m going to give you exactly what you want.”

His hands spread your thighs, as far as they would go, exposing your pussy to his hungry gaze.

The cool air against your heated skin makes you shiver, but the real shock came when his fingers brush against your soaked folds.

A grunt leaves his mouth, taking in your quivering pussy.

Your clit pulse harder under his gaze, his fingers sliding through your wetness, coating themselves in your slick.

He parts your folds, thumb brushing lightly over your clit.

“Oh!”

Your hips jerk upward.

“So fucking wet for me… you’ve been thinking of this, haven’t you?”

“Yes,” you admitted.

“Every night, koo, I touched myself thinking of you.”

His eyes flash with an animal need, he leans down, the smell of your arousal hitting him, making his nostrils flare.

“Good girl.” he hums.

His lips brushing your clit.

“Now let me take care of you the way you deserve.”

He didn’t tease for long.

His tongue lapped at your clit with slow strokes as you let out needy murmurs, thighs shaking.

He holds your legs apart tightly, almost bruising them in the process, something you don’t mind.

You'll look at the bruises later, admiring them.

His tongue circled your clit before his lips close around the throbbing nub, sucking hard and you cry out, hips thrusting against his mouth.

“Hahh, jungkook, mhmm—”

He focuses on your pussy, letting out growls of approval at your taste as he eats you out like a starved man.

He has been away from you for so long and all the overload need has turned him feral.

His tongue switched between different motions, from soft licks to sucks that made your vision blur.

He flattened his tongue, dragging it from your entrance to your clit, tasting every inch of you and you felt your orgasm building quickly.

Your hips rocked, chasing it, stomach knotting faster.

His hands grip your thighs and the sting of his nails digging into you only heightened your arousal.

You let out a shaky cry.

“Please don’t stop!”

You were only capable of begging and uttering his name.

He pulls back just enough to speak, lips glistening with your arousal, some dripping on his chin and the sight makes you look away in shame and embarrassment.

“Never.” he snarls.

He dove back in, tongue plunging into your entrance, fucking you with slow, deep thrusts that made you see stars.

He would alternate between fucking you with his tongue and sucking your clit.

It felt like a delicious torture.

You were a mess, couldn’t think straight as your body trembled.

Your hands found his hair again, tugging hard and he moaned against your pussy, the vibration pushing you closer to release.

He slid one hand up your thigh, fingers finding your entrance.

He teased you first, circling you with one finger, spreading your slickness all over your mound before pushing in slowly.

You gasped, clenching around his finger.

The intrusion almost felt foreign yet familiar after so long.

“So tight,” he huffs.

“I bet being away from you for so long made you tight all over again… gotta stretch this cunt for me.”

He added a second finger, stretching you and you yelped, head falling back against the pillow.

His fingers curled inside you to find that spot that makes you scream.

He pumped them slowly at first, his tongue still working your clit, sucking hard as his fingers fucked you.

You were in tears.

The dual sensation too much.

“Nghh, kookie!” you screamed.

Your body almost lifting off the bed as your orgasm crashed over you.

Your pussy pulsed around his fingers, clit throbbing against his tongue.

He didn’t stop.

His fingers pumping faster, his mouth sucking harder.

You sobbed, vision going white.

“jungkook, oh god, ahh—I’m coming!”

His tongue lapped up every drop of your release, groaning in approval as his fingers slowed but did not stop, drawing out your orgasm.

Until you were an oversensitive mess.

“That’s it,” he coaxed you.

“I missed this… you taste so good.”

You collapsed onto the bed, chest heaving with your pants, jungkook pulls out his fingers slowly, making you whimper.

He brought them to his lips, sucking them clean, his eyes never leaving yours.

The sight making your pussy clench again.

A fresh wave of arousal pooling between your thighs.

He crawls up your body, lips finding yours and you tasted yourself on his tongue, mixing with his saliva and you moaned into his mouth.

Your hands roaming his broad back, feeling the hard muscle under his skin.

“I missed you.” you whispered.

Voice hoarse from screaming

“I missed you too, sweet girl.”

His voice rough with emotion.

He kneels between your legs, taking off the only garment covering his body, his boxers slide down as he throws them somewhere in the room.

Your eyes were closed, body still trembling from the orgasm he'd just given you, trying to catch your breath.

Your nipples still ached from his earlier attention.

You open your eyes slightly to meet his, his pupils blown wide with lust as he looks down at you.

You inhale sharply as you look at his cock standing proudly and heavy, like a promise of what's about to come.

It was thick, veiny and the tip flushed, glistening with precum that beaded at the tip.

The sight of it made your mouth water, throat going dry.

Your clit pulse as well looking at his thrashing length and you fisted the sheets in need.

It was bigger than you remembered.

The months of absence made it seem almost intimidating, his throbbing cock proving how desperately he wanted you.

You sat up.

Reaching for him, fingers trembling as they wrapped around his cock.

You felt the hardness of him along with the throb as you started stroking him slowly, thumb brushing over the tip, spreading the precum and making him hiss, his hips jerking.

“Fuck, my love,” he grunts.

“Your hands...”

You licked your lips, meeting his eyes.

“I wanna taste you.” you purr.

Your voice was shy but still laced with a boldness that surprised even you.

His eyes almost turn pitch black, a growl rumbling from his chest.

“Then take me,” he urges.

“Suck my cock like you mean it.”

You didn’t hesitate.

Leaning forward, you press a soft kiss to the tip, tasting the saltiness reminding you of the past memories where he guided you in the way he likes.

You both knew each other's body like the back of your hands.

Knowing exactly how to please the other, knowing what makes the others eyes roll at the back of their heads.

His hands tangling in your hair, not pushing but guiding but still holding back to take things at your pace, which you understood from his hold.

You take him into your mouth, tongue swirling around the head as his heavy cock fill your mouth.

You sucked gently at first, lips sliding down his shaft tracing the vein that pulsed beneath.

“Oh god…”

He hissed, head falling back as you looked up at him to see his adam's apple bobbing with his gulp.

The sight made your thighs clench, bare giving you any relief.

“Always so fucking good at pleasing your man.”

You moaned around him at his praise, the vibration making his hips buck and you knew from his actions that he wanted you to take him deeper.

You took him as far as you could, throat constricting as you fought the urge to gag, eyes watering.

But determined.

Your hand wrap around the base, stroking what your mouth couldn’t reach as your other hand cupped his balls, rolling them gently.

Feeling their weight, his grip tightens in your hair.

“Just like that, baby,” he grits out.

“You’re gonna kill me.”

You pulled back slightly as your tongue swirls around the head again, sucking hard and his husky growls were driving you crazy.

Each sound sends a jolt to your core.

You could feel yourself getting wetter, aching for his touch.

Any friction.

You tried to ignore your needs and focused on bobbing your head, setting a rhythm, his cock twitching in your mouth, hips thrusting slightly.

And you hollowed your cheeks, sucking harder, wanting to drive him as wild as he'd driven you.

But jungkook wasn’t content to let you have all the control.

“I need to taste you again.” he scoffs.

His voice fill with urgency as he pulls you off his cock with a gentle tug, his hands guiding you to straddle his face with your back facing him.

Before you could react.

You gasp, clutching his muscled body as he positioned himself so his cock hovered over your mouth, the tip brushing your lips while his face settled between your thighs.

His breath hot against your pussy that was still dripping from your earlier release.

The sight of him—his cock so close—made your mouth water again and you didn’t waste any time reaching up and guiding his cock back into your mouth.

Sucking eagerly.

At the same time his tongue finds your pussy, you moaned around his cock, his lips closing around your clit, sucking gently and you bucked your hips.

Your body struggling to maintain the overwhelming sensation.

He groans against your pussy, the vibration sending shockwaves through you while you can’t keep up with sucking his cock.

Now moaning against it.

His tongue relentless as he teased the sensitive bud before sliding to your entrance, gathering the arousal there.

“Oh shit, ahmm—”

You gasp, his nose nudging your clit.

“I could drown in you.” he says.

Voice muffled.

You tried focusing on his cock and not on what a squirming mess he was driving you into, cock sliding deeper into your mouth as he thrusts gently.

Your tongue swirling as you stroke the base, sputtering, eyes watering.

Your arousal drips onto his tongue.

You were basically riding his nose now, his tongue curling inside you was too much and you were letting out choked whimpers and moans around his cock.

His hands held you open and the wet sounds of his mouth against your pussy mingled with the sounds of your mouth on his cock.

Creating a lewd music that fills the room.

“kookie,” you sob.

“You’re gonna make me come again… stop please.”

He doesn’t stop his tongue moving faster, fucking you deeper, his movements feral as you didn’t back down as well, even though your thighs were shaking.

You took him back into your mouth, sucking hard as you deep throated him and you gagged, stroking while his tongue and lips drove you closer.

You both were lost in each other, giving and taking in equal measure while he fucked your mouth and worshipped your pussy.

Controlling you in all ways.

You came first, body arching, your sobs muffled on his cock, tears leaving your eyes as he laps up every drop.

You pulled off his cock, body shaking uncontrollably.

Your orgasm left you weak but you didn’t stop pumping his cock and he groaned, thrusting harder into your mouth, chasing his release.

“Fuck, baby, I’m close.” he pants.

You knew he was near from the throb of his cock.

You let out a needy whine around him and the vibration was enough to push him over the edge, cum spilling into your mouth, coating your tongue.

You swallowed eagerly, savoring the taste of him, tongue working until he let out a growl.

His hand cupping the back of your head.

You collapse in his arms, his chest heaving as you both lay there for a moment catching your breath, your bodies still humming with the aftershocks.

He pecked your lips, giving you the taste of both of you.

“I’ve missed this… missed us.” he whispers.

You hum, eyes watering, fingers tracing the lines of his tattoos as his hand soon starts roaming your body again and you know this is only the beginning of the night.

The hunger between you far from sated.

You both craved more.

jungkook hovered above you and you still felt your release dripping down your thighs, pooling on the sheets.

He breathes hard, taking you in naked and spread out for him, breasts still rising and falling.

“I need you inside me.” you whimpered.

Your voice filled with need.

A low growl rumbles from his chest as he positions himself between your thighs, the bed creaking under his weight.

“I’m gonna give you everything, love.” he promised.

“Fuck you so good... make you feel how much I missed you.”

He grips his cock, hand wrapping around the base and rubbed the tip against your slick folds, teasing your clit with slow strokes.

You gasp under the pressure, cunt clenching in anticipation.

You didn’t want teasing.

“Oh god, koo…” you huff.

Nails digging into his shoulder, he drags his cock through your slit, coating himself in your wetness.

Your pussy was swollen and ready.

The months of being apart have left you hypersensitive.

Even the slightest contact of his length sent sparks of pleasure through you.

You gave him pleading eyes, tears dropping.

He didn’t make you wait any longer, his own restraint fading and he pushed into you with a slow thrust, cock penetrating your pussy, inch by inch.

It was too much.

A delicious burn while your walls adjust for him, tightening further on him.

A cry of pain and pleasure leaves you.

He groaned, head falling to your shoulder as he bottoms out, cock buried to the hilt.

“Shit,”

“You’re so tight… so perfect around me.” he husks.

His cock pulsed inside you, hips rocking slowly at first, each thrust taking him deeper.

With each thrust of him, you let out “ohs” and clench the bedsheets.

“You like that, hm?” he asks.

“Like how my cock feels inside this little pussy?”

“Yes.” you sobbed.

Voice high and needy, hips rocking to meet his thrusts.

“Please don’t stop!”

He growls, his thrusts pick up their speed as his hips snap against yours.

The sound of skin slapping against skin filling the room.

His tip almost brushes your cervix, making you see stars behind your vision.

He grumbles, his eyes locked on where his cock disappears into your pussy, puffy folds stretched around him and the quivering nub just above it.

“Taking me so well like a good naughty girl” he tsks.

He leans down, plunging his tongue into your mouth while his tongue performed the same sex act that his cock was giving you.

You struggle to breathe, just mumbling expletives while scratching his back.

Your breasts bounce with each thrust and he noticed, his hand sliding up to cup one, fingers pinching and rolling your nipple.

He leans down, sucking onto one and you cry out, arching your back as your pussy clenches on him rhythmically.

You were drooling now, brows furrowed.

You were mindless, not capable of feeling anything but the pleasure he was igniting inside you.

“jungkook. jungkook. jungkook.”

You chanted his name, voice breaking.

You didn’t know if you wanted him to slow down or keep going, his thrusts relentless now, cock pounding you while his balls slap against your ass.

He fucks you like a man possessed.

His cock was hitting your g-spot with every stroke, you were screaming now, biting into the sheets to ground yourself.

“You’re gonna cum for me?” he rasps.

His hands slide down to rub your clit, fingers circling it in tight fast circles and the added stimulation was breaking you, pussy clenching around him so tightly.

He hissed.

His thrusts faltering slightly.

“Come on my cock, sweetheart… let me feel you.”

“Ahh, hnn I’m gonna—”

Your words were cut off with a scream that ends with a wail as your orgasm hit you.

Pussy spasming around his cock.

Your walls milking him with you release

Your body shook, nails digging on his back, almost drawing blood.

“Shh, that’s it.” he calms you.

Even though his voice was strained from chasing his release, thrusts growing harder.

He kisses you, swallowing your moans and cries as he fucked you through your orgasm and he finally came, his cum hot and thick, filling you with spurts and spurts of it.

He moans your name, hips jerking as he empties himself, gripping your hips tight.

“Mine,” he growls.

“All fucking mine.”

Your forehead meeting his, both your breaths shaky and you cling to him, body spent.

Both of you didn’t have the strength to separate the connection.

Your pussy still pulsing around his softening cock that was filling you, grounding you both in this moment.

You lay there tangled together.

Both your bodies slick with cum and yet the room was filled with love.

“Always only yours, jungkook”

You murmur before your eyes fall closed.

۶ৎ

The room was filled with the smell of sex and sweat from your earlier intimacy and the sheets completely damp beneath you both.

jungkook's chest rose and fell steadily against your back, arms encircling you, one hand laying possessively across your stomach.

His fingers tracing small patterns that sent shivers across your skin.

You shifted slightly, turning in his arms to face him and the movement drew a low groan from his throat, his eyes fluttering open to meet yours.

His eyes were heavy with exhaustion, no hunger, that was present just a few moments ago, lips swollen from hours of kissing and he was still sweaty all over.

And you knew you probably look worse but he looked at you like you were the most beautiful woman in the world.

He always does.

The sight of him so close and so real after months of absence almost felt unreal.

It was like a dream.

Him beside you.

“Still awake, baby?”

He rumbles as his lips curve into a soft, sleepy smile, only reserved for you.

He reaches out, brushing a strand of hair from your face, fingers lingering on your cheek.

“Couldn’t sleep.” you murmur.

Your voice was shy now, a contrast to the boldness of your earlier actions and you ducked under his gaze, pressing your face into the crook of his neck.

He chuckled deeply.

“Don’t leave me again…” you breathe.

All the earlier giggles faded as a seriousness took over you, eyes glistening.

His arms tighten around you, pulling you impossibly closer, his hard chest pressing against your bare breasts and your oversensitive nipples grazing him still sent jolts of sparks through you.

“I’m not going anywhere.” he said fiercely.

“Not now. Not ever. You're stuck with me, babygirl.”

He pecks your nose, the action precious.

“I’ve waited too fucking long to be here with you and I’m finally home.”

The word “home” hit you and your throat tightened.

You tilted your head up, kissing him as you both tasted the salt and arousal from earlier doings.

He brought one of your thighs up, wrapping it around his waist, branding himself in you.

jungkook pulls back, eyes searching yours.

“Every day in that lonely fucking place. I thought of you… you kept me going.”

His hand slid up to cup your face and you felt the tremor in his touch.

“I’d go through it again if it means I get to be here with you.”

۶ৎ

The night stretched on with several positions and lots of whispered love confessions.

“I love you.”

He’d said with every thrust.

“So fucking much”

Your hands clutched his, fingers intertwining.

As dawn crept through the curtains, you lay together, bodies spent but your hearts full.

jungkook held you close and you smiled, body aching but sated as you rested against him.

“I’m back in your arms,” he whispers.

“And I’m never leaving you again.”

The night had been a desperate, hungry reunion as you both made up for all the lost time.

And now as you drifted to sleep in his arms, the world outside faded, leaving only the two of you.

Bound by love

And a promise of forever.

────

permanent taglist: @chaelvrx @wintaemoonjen @slutology00 @furioustrashlover @kelsyx33 @kooever @svnbangtansworld @xcviis @snuglymalicioussea @nellbyy @minewlove @l4yl44 @captainengineer-trixie @cristy-101 @fangirl-coco-goddess @lachesismoonmist @angelfuzzy2 @levisnumber1 @angelsdecalcomania @magicalnachocreator @hynjamkook @koodollylvr @withmuchluv-tannie @istarag @elmarimochi9513 @wtfanu @kooklv @endlesslysassy @nanisblogg @tatamicc @mokaliciouss @armybomb-infires @jiniminisworld @seokjinthescientist @gyeomibearr @xmiaacxio @n0chuprettykook @gizaspicebag @aaclariww @dollytingz @pokalunolino @bunnies-only @cuntygguk @avawants2havefun

[bunnyykoo]

JUNGKOOK FF RECOMMENDATIONS

These are some of my favourite Jungkook fics by some wonderful authors. Make sure to check their other works too, those are absolute masterpieces....♡

Raven Unit by @themfchase

Of Honey and Cinnamon by @ephemerlskies

Supercharged by @btsmosphere

Elemental by @kpopfanfictrash.

Holidays of bread and wood by @cutaepatootie

Sit and Heal by @orphaned-kiirokero

Something About You by @ahundredtimesover

T&S by @jjkfire

Meraki by @taegularities

I Want You To Stay by @ahundredtimesover

Angel's Trumpet by @hansolmates

Bloody Crawling Back To You + sequel by @acheronsociety

Begin by @taegularities

Bedevilled by @writemywaytoyourheart

The Habits of A Broken Heart by @softykooky

Wartime Child by @ktheist

Summer Nights and Morning Dew by @jeonstudios

Please Love Me by @ahundredtimesover

Elemental by @kpopfanfictrash.

Cold Nights and Blurred Lines by @awrkive

Deal by @jeonstudios

Warning Signs by @hongcherry

Cold As Ice by @ughseoks

The Forgotten Spaces by @oddinary4bts

[bunnyykoo]

Then/Now | JJK & KTH

Summary: Taehyung finally finds you again after years of searching, and all he needs to do is kiss you to return the memories of your past life together. The only problem is you're already in a relationship, and with the very person who executed you in the first place.

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader, Taehyung x Reader

Genre: Reincarnation/Past Lives AU, Royalty AU, Friends to Lovers, Ex-Friends to Lovers, Affair, Angst, Smut, Fluff

Word Count: 28.5k+

Warnings: major character death(s) (in the past, they get reincarnated), execution/death, suicide, blood, swords, wound from a blade, crying, screaming, arguing, cheating, lying, heartbreak, mentions of war, death of loved ones, the fifteenth century, horses, fear of heights, pregnancy, mentions of childbirth, being restrained, migraines, hallucinations/seeing visions, flashbacks, corsets, gowns, basketball, cheerleading, loud crowds, gymnasiums, passing out, needles, being sedated, vomiting, drinking, cursing, depression, mention of graves, crypts, children, chapel, wedding, priest, sacraments, kings, queens, knights, armor and shields, pet names (baby, love, darling), beer pong, darts, loss of friendship, nonconsensual kissing, mention of sorcery/sorceress, spells, reincarnation. SMUT: big dick tae and jk 🤪, loss of virginity, missionary, oral sex (f receiving), unprotected sex, pull-out method, mention of masturbation (f), jacking off/hand job, dick riding, fingering, multiple orgasms, forced exhibitionism (idk how to explain it properly but someone listens outside the door as they have sex), cum eating, coming on skin, cream pie, making out in public, alright I think that's everything but lmk if I missed something.

Author’s Note: jungkook villain era?? haha jk... unless 👀, ok anyway, happy festa everyone! for this fic we got BOAF ‘EM, baby! So excited to have my biases front and center in this monster of a fic lmao. I didn’t even know this many words were capable of coming from my brain but here they are. I really hope you guys love it even though some of our characters be making some major blunders. please don't judge OC too harshly, ok? she's doing her best. also I'll formally apologize to tae for constantly putting him in these situations at a later date. I'm very proud of how this turned out, so, as always, please lmk your thoughts and I hope you enjoyyyy :)

Taehyung kneels across from you, devoid of the armor and shield which make up his regular attire. They’ve been stripped from him, leaving him in just his frock and riding pants. Two of his fellow knights hold his arms out, turning him into the image of the cross before your eyes. You don’t repent, since God is not the one you need to beg for forgiveness.

Your nails scratch harshly against the wood below you as you listen to the footsteps of the King circling around before they halt behind your back. His footsteps which are so familiar and were once the sound you stayed up waiting to hear come down the corridor. 

Time moves like the cogs of an ungreased wheel, each click of its turns bringing you closer to the fate which awaits you. 

Taehyung glares at the King and thrashes against his restraints, even though every soul in the room, including him, knows it’s useless. His insubordination goes ignored. 

“Any last words, your Highness?” 

Eyes snapping shut, your emotions betray you as a sob escapes from your chest and tears fall from your eyes onto the floor below. An unalterable grief overtakes you. You look into Taehyung’s chocolate eyes one last time before returning your gaze to the floor.

“I love you,” you whisper across an exhale, most likely your last. “I am so sorry.”

A single poignant moment passes before the sharp blade slices across the delicate skin of your neck. 

You gasp and grab at your throat, but the sound becomes a gurgle as blood pours from your neck, staining the wood and your gown below you. The deep red liquid flows around your fingers and stains your skin with its potency. Your vision is already gone, and your hearing follows only seconds after. Your body meets the floor with a thump as the light in your eyes flickers out. 

Blood continues to spill from your wound and run through the knots in the wood like a river around stones, creating a halo of it around your body. 

“No, no, no, Y/N!” Taehyung cries as he pulls against the knights again, trying to reach you even though you’re already gone. The beautiful eyes he adores stare lifelessly back at him. “You monster,” he sneers.

The King doesn’t say another word, and doesn’t offer Taehyung the same grace he did to you. He just slowly makes his way across the room before repeating the action across his former first knight’s neck.

His body falls next to yours, his blood fanning out around him and combining with yours into a pool of thick, dark liquid that leaks through the cracks in the wood. Your clothing absorbs the fluid and paints you both red. 

A final thump follows shortly after. 

PRESENT DAY

Taehyung doesn’t know where he’s going, but he thinks it must be the right direction because he can hear cheers from the building coming into view. It’s massive compared to the rest of the school's architecture, but he’s not surprised by that. Most universities nowadays put more emphasis on sports than anything else. 

The cheers only grow as he approaches, a loud buzzer triggering the eruption of sound each time. When he enters the gym, the bounce of the basketball and swoosh of it falling into the net joins the mixture of noises coming from inside. He hands his ticket to the woman at the entrance before heading towards the basketball court. 

It’s uncomfortably warm in the gym. All the bodies stacked in the bleachers and the sweat from the players creates a thick air around the whole scene. The combination of the temperature and loud noises only perpetuates the distortion of his senses, as if he isn’t anxious enough already. Taehyung’s eyes scan the space as he stands in the doorway, off to the side to avoid disturbing the patrons who come and go. 

It only takes him a few seconds to find you. 

You’re standing courtside, among the first row of cheerleaders who stand with their pom poms behind their back. Hair down and in curls, with a piece of it tucked behind one ear, and glitter all over your eyelids and cheeks. You look nothing like the last time he saw you and yet somehow you’re exactly the same. 

Every few minutes you rub the plastic poms together to cheer on the team, sometimes shouting for them, too. It’s so mundane and yet it takes Taehyung’s breath away. It’s only natural, given that this is his first time seeing you in… well, since his last life. 

He never moves from his spot in the doorway, he just stands and admires your every movement and gesture. 

His eyes trace across your familiar visage. Your eyes still sparkle, your skin is soft and dewy, and your lips steal his attention instantaneously. The faint blush across your cheeks reminds him of his childhood and of home. It’s been so long, but seeing you now makes him feel like it was only yesterday.

The only thing out of place is seeing you in this attire. Your cheerleader uniform consists of a miniskirt and tight top which only just meets the top of your skirt. Every time you stretch or move your hips, a sliver of your stomach shows and Taehyung is holding his breath. It’s enough to send his mind into a frenzy. In his last life, he never saw so much as your ankle until the first time he made love to you. 

All too soon, the game ends with a final buzzer. Your team must have won, because you join the rest of the cheerleaders in a chant with the spectators behind you before congratulating the team one by one. 

Once the celebrations are through, you begin packing your things in a duffel matching the university's colors. One of the basketball players walks over and talks to you as you swap out your shoes for something more comfortable and bring a sweatshirt down over your head. Taehyung’s in a love-filled daze as he watches you pull your hair out from where it’s trapped under the neckline and smile at your conversation partner. Every little thing you do is pure magic in his eyes.

Suddenly, you’re waving goodbye to the athlete and walking towards the very exit where Taehyung stands. He’s nervous, more nervous than he’s ever been in his entire life. This one, at least. His heartbeat slows in time with your steps as you grow closer and closer.

“Hi!” Taehyung catches your attention. 

You look confused as to where the voice is coming from, your eyes flitting around the room to find the answer, but then you spot Taehyung in front of you and smile.

“Hi,” you respond.

“You — you were great out there,” Taehyung compliments. 

Your head tilts to the right and your nose scrunches as you smile. There’s an ache in Taehyung’s chest at the familiar movement. Even your mannerisms are the same.

“Was I? Thank you,” you say. “I didn’t do much.”

“Maybe not, but it’s obvious why you’re front and center,” Taehyung continues.

“That’s what I get for being cheer captain,” you sing-song. Taehyung opens his mouth to say something else, but you continue before he can. “I’m so sorry, my boyfriend is sick so I’m trying to get back to him as fast as I can.”

“Oh.” Boyfriend? “That’s alright, I’ll leave you be. I’m Taehyung, by the way.”

“Y/N,” you reply with a miniature curtsy. You have no memories of ever being a royal, but it must still be in your blood somewhere. “Well, see you later.”

“Yeah, later,” Taehyung concurs. 

Taehyung should be elated about having his first conversation with you after an over twenty-year-long hunt, but he didn’t account for everything before traveling across the country to find you. The possibility of you already being in a relationship when he found you never once crossed his mind.

How is he supposed to kiss you and return your memories if you’re already taken?

Taehyung sits in his new dorm for the next couple days and paces around the small room as he thinks of a plan. Eventually, he decides to befriend you, which should be easy since an introduction has already been made, and make you fall in love with him the same way he did in your last lives together. 

He stole you from someone once before and all he has to do is do it again. 

The next time he sees you is in the library. You’re sitting at a table near the wall of windows that overlooks the large plane of grass marking the center of campus. You have big pink headphones on and are moving your head slowly back and forth to whatever music is coming from them. There are two books and a laptop in front of you and you’re writing diligently in a notebook which rests on your lap. 

Taehyung approaches you slowly, checking his surroundings for any mysterious boyfriends who may come to join you. 

When he reaches you without any interruptions, he taps the desk with his knuckles to grab your attention. You smile when you see him and remove your headphones.

“Hey, Taehyung,” you greet him. 

His heart soars over you remembering his name.

“Hi, mind if I join you?” 

“No, of course not,” you respond. Gesturing to the empty seat across from you with your hand, you smile again as Taehyung takes his backpack off and sits down. “So, you’re new around here. Transfer student?”

“Yup,” Taehyung says as he pulls his laptop out.

“Are you a senior, too?” 

“Yeah, I’ve got a majority of my credits, but because of the transfer nonsense there are some things I’ll need to retake,” he explains. 

“Bummer,” you reply. Your hand fishes in your backpack before pulling out a piece of candy and popping it in your mouth. “Do you play any sports?”

Before Taehyung answers, you offer him a piece of your sweets, but he declines with a wave. 

“Just fencing and horseback riding, if you count those,” he answers.

“Um, woah. Yes, I count those,” you laugh. “That’s way cooler than contact sports.”

Talking to you is as easy as breathing and it sets Taehyung’s heart alight in his chest. It makes him remember all of your long conversations about everything and nothing. Your presence is so warm, welcoming, and familiar that it’s easy for him to forget this is only your second conversation. 

“How’s your boyfriend?”

“Oh, he’s doing a lot better. Thanks for asking,” you say. “Normally, he’s at the games with me, since he’s the captain of the team, but he caught a nasty cold last week and couldn’t play.” 

“So he’s a basketball player?” You nod and bite your candy in half. You’re adorably vicious with the chewy treat. “And how long have you known each other or been together or whatever.”

“Two years,” you say nonchalantly. 

Two years? 

Taehyung definitely has his work cut out for him. You’re not just in any relationship, you’re in a serious, long standing relationship. He needs to learn more about him so he can better understand who he’s up against. Hopefully, as your friendship grows, you’ll offer to introduce the two of them.

“Wow, that’s awesome,” he says even though it tastes bitter in his mouth. 

“Yeah, we met freshman year and were just friends for a long time, but the heart wants what the heart wants, ya know?”

Yes, he certainly knows all too well. 

You end up studying together for a couple hours before you leave for cheer practice. After that, you form a routine of meeting up to work on assignments and study, which perfectly aligns with Taehyung’s plans. 

The study “dates” always happen at the library on Tuesdays and Thursdays, usually after lunch. It works well for you both because the silent moments are comfortable and the conversation is easy. Your study sessions are the only time Taehyung sees you for a couple months, and he’s yet to meet your boyfriend.

That changes one Thursday when you invite him to the basketball game the following night. Apparently, it’s against the university’s main rival and you’re giddy about the competition and hopefully seeing the team win. Taehyung graciously accepts and tells you he’ll see you then when you say goodbye.

Taehyung is wearing a hoodie with the university logo on it that he picked up from the school store earlier today. He blends in seamlessly with the crowd of students all wearing the same colors to support the team. After handing his ticket over, he makes his way into the gym and finds one of the few empty spots on the bleachers.

The court is currently empty since there’s still some time before the game starts. The other students on the bleachers are conversing with each other and eating their concessions, but Taehyung is mentally preparing himself to finally see his competitor for your heart. 

Taehyung isn’t one to brag, but he’s been told he’s pretty handsome, and he likes to think he’s got a good personality. He’s just worrying himself sick over whether those attributes will be enough to make you end a two year long partnership. All he can hope for is that you walk into the gym with someone of below average looks and a shitty personality.

His leg bounces incessantly as the minutes tick by and the start time of the game nears. He watches other cheerleaders and basketball players filter in through the doors, every single one making his heart stop until he realizes it isn’t you. When it finally is you, Taehyung finds himself moving to the edge of his seat, his lip catching between his teeth. 

You walk into the gym through the large metal doors first, but Taehyung can see a hand laced with yours. His eyes trace from where your hands are connected up the tattooed arm of your companion until he’s able to see the stranger’s face.

No amount of mental preparation could’ve prepared him for this sight.

As if his prior life is flashing before his very eyes, he watches in horror as you reach up on your tiptoes and press a kiss to your boyfriend’s lips. Your boyfriend smiles against your mouth in return, chasing your lips with his own before pulling back and moving your hair away from your face. 

There is no mistaking the familiar features Taehyung is seeing. Besides maybe the length of his hair and the tattoo sleeve occupying his right arm, everything is identical. 

Taehyung scores through his memories for an answer, any explanation for the disturbing scene he's watching. It doesn’t make any sense. The reincarnation spell should’ve only applied to you two. So why are you walking hand-in-hand across the basketball court with the King?

What the fuck is Jungkook doing here? 

1422

The spring rainfall gave life to more blooms this season than last, creating a beautiful vision of purple and white in the valley near your home. They’re only wildflowers, but they still spread a sweet fragrance through the air. The sight of the flowers billowing in the wind is picturesque and something you look forward to at the conclusion of every winter. 

On the road parallel to the valley, two figures on horseback come into view ahead of the slow-sinking sun. You wave to greet your regular visitors, laughing when you notice one of them speeding up and leaving the other in the dust. 

The horse galloping towards you is a familiar sight, and you trust the rider enough to know he’ll stop with plenty of time before he reaches you. 

“Jungkook, that was not very nice,” you scold him playfully once he’s close enough to hear you.

Taehyung follows the same path to you on his own steed, a frown evident on his features as he approaches. 

“He is never nice!”

“I am always nice,” Jungkook corrects him. 

They both dismount gracefully, and you follow your usual routine of walking over to Jungkook’s horse, Bam, and petting him on his forehead. Your fingers gently move down the horse’s face as you coo at him. Bam nudges his muzzle into your hand, making a noise of appreciation at the attention you’re providing him.

Jungkook watches the scene affectionately, his starry eyes following the movement of your hand and the smile that grows on your lips the more you interact with his beloved horse. You don’t see the way his eyes trace over your profile with a smile of his own.

“You can ride him, if you would like,” Jungkook offers. 

“What?” You ask, but before he can answer you, Jungkook’s hands are on either side of your waist and he’s lifting you onto the saddle. “Oh, wait, wait!” 

Your hands grab onto the saddle to steady yourself, your eyes wide as you look down from the great height. 

“Uh, Jungkook —”

“Do not worry, I am holding you. You are not going to fall,” Jungkook states. 

You feel his palm on your lower back, and his other hand is petting Bam to keep him calm. It’s unfamiliar, but not unwelcome, feeling the heat of his hand on you, but you don’t want him to see the blush appearing on your cheeks. 

“Oh… okay,” you mumble. 

Eyes glancing down again, you shut them instantly when you see how high off the ground you are. 

“I believe she would still like to get down, Jungkook,” Taehyung comments.

You look down at Jungkook with fearful eyes to confirm Taehyung’s statement. His lips quirk downward in a frown before he grabs you by the waist again and brings your feet safely to the ground. 

“I am sorry,” Jungkook tells you, his hands still on your waist. “I did not mean to scare you.”

“You did not scare me,” you say, stepping back so his hands fall away from you. “Bam scares me. Well, not Bam, because he is so sweet, but Bam’s height.”

Jungkook smiles at your explanation, his eyes crinkling in the corners, and it makes you mirror his expression.

“Yeontan would like some attention, too, m’lady,” Taehyung says as walks towards you both, his horse following him by the reins.

“I will be there in a moment,” you say. You pet Bam’s forehead once more before moving to Taehyung’s horse to give him the same affection. “What was the subject of your royal lessons today?”

“Battle strategy,” Jungkook says as he ties Bam to your stable. Taehyung follows suit with Yeontan once you’re done petting him.

Your heartbeat comes to a screeching halt at his answer, and a wave of fear washes over you at the dramatic change of topic for their lessons. Yesterday, they were learning about the proper way to eat soup and which fork should be used first. 

Jungkook notices your worried expression and walks towards you. His eyes search yours for the reason you look so frightened as his hand slowly rises to hold your own. You allow him to take it, and you know he can feel the way it shakes in his grasp.

“That is not because you will be heading to battle anytime soon, is it?” You ask him.

The Kingdom is at war with a neighboring country and has been for nearly three years. Despite how long the men have been fighting, there is still no end in sight. It’s been devastating for the Kingdom as men leave their homes and families never to return again. Almost every child in your town is without a father and their mothers are left alone to care for their land and houses.

“No,” Jungkook answers, his hand squeezing your own before letting it go. Relief spreads across your chest and dispels the anxiety pooling in your gut. “Two heirs cannot go to battle at the same time.” 

Your friend Jungkook is actually Prince Jungkook, but it’s easy to forget that when he’s teasing you or rolling around in the valley. He’s the younger of two sons, and his brother Junghyun is fighting alongside his father in the war. Since Jungkook isn’t next in line for the throne, he lives life at a slower pace and is more carefree. You appreciate that about him and enjoy taking part in his boyish antics. 

Taehyung comes from a long line of knights who have served the crown for generations. Knights begin training at a very young age, and depending on their lineage, their future role is decided long before they complete their training. Taehyung has known he’d eventually be Jungkook’s first knight since childhood. The pair have known each other since they were toddlers and are as close as brothers. 

You grew up with both of them because your parents work at the castle and you lived in the staff quarters until you began working yourself. Jungkook’s mother, the Queen, absolutely adores children and believes education is essential to living a good life. As such, she hires tutors to teach the children of all the staff as well as the young knights and royal family. It was during these lessons that you first met Jungkook and Taehyung. The three of you bonded over folktales and your love of animals and quickly became close friends. 

Since you no longer live at the castle since becoming a midwife, the two boys come to visit you nearly every day between their daily lessons. The time is usually spent talking about what they learned or which books they’re reading. Sometimes, often in the summertime, the three of you play childhood games in the valley or take a short walk to the river where you can sink your feet into the cool water.

A new anxiety emerges when you remember that the rules which dictate Jungkook’s life are not the same for Taehyung. 

“That does not apply to Taehyung, does it?” You question as he comes to stand beside you, too. 

“No,” Taehyung says with a grimace. “I could be called upon at any time, but I am not fully trained. I do not believe that will occur unless there are no other options.”

Taehyung spoke too soon, because within a month’s time, he’s visiting you to tell you he has to leave for the battlefront in a fortnight. 

Something in you knows as soon as you see him what news he’ll be sharing, but your heart shatters all the same when the words leave his mouth. You cry into your hands as he sits across from you at your kitchen table. He’s your best friend and you know there is a chance you will never see him again once he departs. The fear and sorrow coursing through you are enough to drown you. There is nothing that terrifies you more than losing him or Jungkook.

Taehyung reaches across the table and removes your hands from your face to hold them instead.

“I promise I will come back, Y/N, and when I do… I will take care of you. If you will have me,” he states. 

“What?”

“I love you, and I want to marry you,” he confesses. 

The thought doesn’t make sense within your mind. Taehyung’s noble status gives him the right to have the pick of the litter in terms of a wife. You don’t even have a dowry you can offer him.

“I do not understand how you could love me,” you respond. 

“How could I not?” 

He kisses the back of your hands and then rests his cheek against them. 

You’re unsure how to respond to his proposal, or if you even should. He’s saying this now because he’s leaving, and you can’t give him an answer when there’s a chance he’ll never return. The reveal of his feelings for you frazels your mind and makes you question everything. So, you decide his proposal is something you’ll organize your thoughts about once he returns, if he returns. 

The fortnight passes by both agonizingly slow and too quickly. The anxiety eating away at your nervous system turns the days into long threads of time with no end, but simultaneously, the calendar seems to be skippping ahead multiple days at a time.

When time lands on the third day from his departure, the whispers of a tragedy spread across the land like wildfire. 

You hear it first from one of your patients, an expecting mother who you’re checking up on after she fell ill. When she whispers the news to you, your blood runs cold. You don’t believe her initially, but then, as you leave her home, you hear it repeating all around you in the voices of your neighbors. 

King Jeon and Prince Junghyun are dead. The father and son perished in a bloody battle which took more than half of your men’s lives. 

Whispers in bars and conversations across fields about how the King’s death will affect farming and trade are all you hear in the days following the announcement, but all you can think about is whether or not Jungkook is alright.

Unsurprisingly, you have no visitors until the morning Taehyung is supposed to leave. You watch from your kitchen window as the sunrise breaks over the valley. As the sky goes from deep blue to orange, you hear the familiar sound of horses galloping down the road.

Exiting your house in a flash, you wait for your friends to reach you and dismount before approaching them. You go straight to Jungkook, taking his hands in your own and rubbing over his knuckles with your thumbs.

“I am so, so sorry, Jungkook,” you tell him. 

He squeezes your hands in return and a small smile appears on his lips, except it doesn't reach his eyes the way it normally does.

“I am alright,” he assures you. “I will miss them dearly, but it is my mother I truly worry about.”

“If there is anything I can do, please tell me,” you reply. His only response is a nod as Taehyung comes from behind the horses after tying them up. “When do you leave?”

“I am not leaving anymore,” he states. “I have to stay to protect the King.”

“The King?” The dead King?

“Yes, the King,” he parrots, gesturing to Jungkook. 

You feel so foolish for forgetting what the consequences of Junghyun’s death really are. Jungkook will now have to take up the mantle of King without anyone ahead of him to guide him into the role. 

You gaze at your childhood friend, attempting to imagine him in a crown. A smile appears on your face when you think about how handsome he will look with it sitting atop his pretty black hair. Jungkook is prudent, kind, and compassionate and you know he will make a wonderful ruler. 

“Oh,” you say, letting his hands go as you take a step back. It’s one thing to be affectionate with a Prince, it’s another entirely to do so with a King. “Well, I suppose I will be seeing a lot less of you then.”

Jungkook frowns deeply and shakes his head.

“I do not want that,” he responds. “You are important to me and I will make time to visit you regardless.”

You’re sure Jungkook means what he’s saying, and believes it himself, but the odds of it being true are slim to none. A King has to bear the weight of the world and his new role will certainly keep him and Taehyung from visiting you as often.

It feels like goodbye as you wave at them and watch their figures disappear down the road. Your head falls forward and tears fall from your eyes onto the grass. The world is changing too fast for you to keep up. 

Despite your worries, Jungkook comes to visit you the next day carrying a bouquet of white roses. 

You’ve never been in a carriage before, let alone in one which is currently on its way to the castle. It’s been years since you were last at the monumental estate which houses both your parents and best friends. 

As you approach, you notice the familiar grounds where you once played as a child. You see visions of you, Jungkook, and Taehyung running around in circles as they chase you and all at once the memories of your time here come flooding back. The memory of when Jungkook accidentally sent you both flying into one of the fountains brings a smile to your face. You’ll never forget the look on his mother’s face when she saw you both soaked and dripping on the castle floor. And the one of Taehyung picking flowers for you only for them to blow away when a strong wind flew in. He pouted for hours afterwards. 

The feeling of returning home brings you comfort amongst all the chaos surrounding you. 

The carriage stops in front of the entrance to the castle and you see the massive stone doors which separate the outside world from the home of the royal family. Your parents are already waiting for you along with some fellow staff, their faces giddy with excitement about seeing you. The driver offers you his hand to help you down the steps and once your feet hit the ground, you run straight into your mother’s embrace.

“Oh, honey, we missed you,” she tells you. 

“I missed you, too,” you sigh. 

A lurching sound indicates the doors are opening and Jungkook and his mother emerge from behind them. Jungkook takes two steps at a time, skipping down the limestone to reach you faster. His mother sighs knowingly at his behavior, a warm smile present on her lips.

“I am happy to see you arrived safely,” he says as he offers you his hand. 

You curtsy to his mother, the Queen, who you haven’t seen since in many years now. She’s just as beautiful as you remember, even though her eyes carry a new sadness in them.

“Your Majesty, I am so very sorry about your husband and son,” you say to her. 

“I appreciate it, my dear. I am so happy to see you,” she replies. “Let us go inside and I can show you around.” 

She hooks her arm around yours and you almost recoil away from her in shock. The Queen is escorting you like an old friend and it defies all the logic in your brain. Even though you grew up here, you have always been well aware of your place in the world. 

Your mother and father wave goodbye to the three of you as they report back to their duties. A pair of matching smiles on their faces as they watch you enter the castle.

Once inside, your eyes sweep around the grand entrance and the corridors which splinter away from the room. You notice all the beautiful artwork and intricate architecture of the castle that you didn’t take the time to admire as a child. You were too busy playing and soaking up all the knowledge you could from your tutors. 

“I apologize, I have a meeting to attend, if you will excuse me,” Jungkook tells you.

Then, much to your surprise, he takes the back of his hand and runs it along your cheekbone, the softest of smiles present on his face as he does so. Your eyes open in wonder at the gesture, but once he’s turning and walking away from you, a matching smile appears on your lips. 

Your skin feels warm where his fingers were, and you avert your eyes from his disappearing figure to try and stop the blush from continuing to spread. When you turn to your left towards the Queen, that knowing, motherly look is back. She just shrugs before turning in the opposite direction to lead you further into the castle.

When Jungkook enters the room the sound of chairs scraping against the stone floor permeates the air. All of the staff, parliamentarians, advisors, and knights stand at attention in the presence of their future King. The knights place their arms across their chest out of respect, including Taehyung, who is sitting to the left of the throne. Not yet being acclimated to the sight, Jungkook gestures for everyone to sit with a wave of his hand before taking his seat next to Taehyung. 

The throne to the right of Jungkook, which is reserved for his future Queen, remains empty. 

“How is the planning coming along?” Jungkook asks the royal coordinator. He is effectively the head of staff who oversees everything that goes on inside the castle.

“Wonderfully, your Highness. The wedding and coronations will occur subsequently in the chapel three days from now. The Priest is already preparing the sacraments,” the man replies. 

“Wedding? Whose wedding?” Taehyung asks as he looks over at Jungkook.

Jungkook doesn’t get the chance to answer him before a parliamentarian joins the conversation.

“Have you not heard? She is supposed to be arriving today, is that right, your Majesty?”

“Yes.” Jungkook clears his throat before continuing. “Y/N arrived only moments ago and is currently touring the castle with my mother.”

“Y/N?” Taehyung snaps. His whole body turns towards Jungkook, the shock and disbelief distorting his features. Jungkook doesn’t explain or answer, he merely glances at him in warning before continuing the meeting.

When the meeting concludes, the entire room stands at attention again as Jungkook exits. Taehyung follows closely behind and catches up to match Jungkook’s pace. 

“You are marrying Y/N?” Taehyung asks incredulously. “When did this happen?”

“Yes, I am,” Jungkook responds flatly. “She will be your Queen soon. You should refrain from calling her by name.”

“What is wrong with you?” Taehyung stops Jungkook with his arm. “I have known you my whole life, you would never do something like this to me.”

“Do to you?” 

“Yes, your Highness,” Taehyung says sarcastically. “You know how I feel about her.”

“Things change, Taehyung. Half of my family is dead. I have a role to play that I am nowhere near prepared for. I am sorry if this hurts you, but I have different priorities now; different responsibilities.”

“What do those responsibilities have to do with Y/N?”

Jungkook stops walking again and turns to face his friend, his wall of regality dropping to allow his true emotions to surface.

“Because there is no else I would rather have by my side when I face them,” he answers whole-heartedly. Jungkook doesn’t wait for Taehyung to reply before he continues down the corridor. 

When you wake up on the morning of your wedding, you momentarily forget where you are until you see the dazzling wedding dress hanging from the wardrobe. The gown is almost too beautiful to wear, and it stares at you from across the room as if to ask “are you ready for this?” You aren’t sure of the answer.

The sound of knocking steals you away from your thoughts. Assuming it’s the maids coming to help you get ready, you tell them to come in and rise from your bed. 

It’s shocking how efficiently the group of women work to turn you into a living, breathing doll. One of them brushes and styles your hair, another puts makeup on you for the first time in your life, and two of them work to get you into your dress.

The dress takes longer to put on you than both the hair and makeup combined. It’s a massive pool of fabric and you can barely tell which end is the top and which is the bottom. You stand with your hands gripping the dresser as both women tug at the strings of the corset and lock you into place. When they finish, you clutch your stomach and attempt to inhale a deep breath. They smile assuredly at you and encourage you to walk around so you can get used to being in such a gown. 

Later in the day, you’re alone with one of the maids while she finishes your hair by placing pins in it. A sudden knock interrupts her and she goes to answer it. You aren’t sure who it is until you see her stepping back with wide eyes. Jungkook enters with a slight bow of his head and she immediately curtsies and then proceeds to stand at attention.

Jungkook chuckles nervously, still acclimating himself with everyone’s new behavior towards him.

“Can we have a minute?” He asks her and she obeys with a curt nod before exiting the room.

“Hi,” you greet him. 

“You look beautiful,” Jungkook tells you. 

“It is none of my doing,” you say. “The maids are amazing at making me look like something I am not.”

“That is not true,” Jungkook argues. “You have always been beautiful, Y/N.” Tilting your head to the right, your nose scrunches and you smile at his compliment. “I wanted to make sure I came to see you before… I know it has been a few days and I apologize, it has been so hectic lately.”

You haven’t seen him since arriving at the castle and he’s certainly a sight for sore eyes. Rising from your seat, you walk to him and take his hands. 

“You do not have to worry about me,” you affirm. “I know you have a lot of responsibilities.”

“Yes,” he smiles. “And unfortunately, soon you will, too.”

“Right,” you laugh. “Being the Queen and all.”

The idea is still so foreign to you that it feels unnatural leaving your lips. 

“I… I cannot thank you enough for doing this for me, Y/N. I know it is a huge commitment and I am so grateful.”

“Jungkook.” You grip his hands a little tighter and he reciprocates the action. “Why are you acting like I am the one doing you a favor? You asked me to be your Queen, to rule a Kingdom by your side. I should be thanking you.”

Jungkook sighs, his gaze dropping to your connected hands. His thumbs massage over your knuckles absentmindedly. 

“I just know this was not the life you envisioned for yourself,” he eventually responds.

“It is not,” you concur. Jungkook frowns and you continue before he gets the wrong idea. “I would say it is better. I loved being a midwife and bringing children into the world, but I grew up here and now I get to spend the rest of my days here.” You squeeze his hands one more time before speaking again. “I am here because I wish to be, Jungkook. Nothing more.”

Jungkook smiles at you and lifts your hands to his lips to kiss them before letting you go and heading for the door. 

“I will see you at the altar, my Queen.”

Your dress weighs down on you like a pile of bricks. It’s your first time wearing a gown, and you didn’t anticipate it being this hard to move. Despite the uncomfortability, the lace and fabric cover you beautifully and it’s easy to feel like a Queen when you look down at its design. 

When you first enter the chapel, Jungkook’s eyes go wide and his lips part before his expression slowly softens into one of admiration and awe. He saw you only moments ago, but the vision of you coming towards him surrounded by flowers and soft candlelight takes his breath away. 

When you see him, you’re equally as stunned. His hair is pushed back away from his forehead, leaving his pretty features as the main focal point. The style makes him look regal and elegant. His wedding attire compliments him in all the right places and the white color accentuates his honey skin. When he visited you before he was still in his normal clothes, so the sight is truly something to behold.

Once you reach the altar, Jungkook stands to the right of you as his left hand holds yours. You’re thankful because if he wasn’t holding your hand the entire room would be able to see it shaking. You know he can feel the movement in his grasp, because every so often he squeezes your fingers. Sometimes he does it twice or three times in a row, and it reminds you of the secret messages you would send to each other across the library during lessons.

In the back corner behind the altar, just on the other side of Jungkook, stands Taehyung, dawning his armor for the first time. It makes you so proud to see him living up to his family’s legacy. 

Although, his new uniform isn’t what catches your attention, it’s the deep scowl painting his features into something you’ve never seen before. It makes you look over at him with a face of concern, silently questioning what’s wrong, although, you believe you know the answer already.

Taehyung has every right to be angry with you. He told you he loves you and wants to marry you, and then you accepted a proposal from his best friend. To make matters worse, you weren’t able to tell him about the marriage yourself since you didn’t see him before traveling to the castle. You want to tell him everything, explain your feelings and why you’re standing next to Jungkook today and not him, but the conversation will have to wait. 

The wedding ceremony ends with a final prayer before the Priest immediately begins the prayers and readings for the coronation. You and Jungkook turn around to face the crowd and it only heightens your nerves. Jungkook notices the shift in your body language and soothingly runs his thumb up and down your pointer finger. Taking a deep breath, you squeeze his hand in return to communicate to him that you’re alright. 

At the instruction of the Priest, the two of you kneel down together and wait patiently for the crowns to be placed on your heads. 

Jungkook goes first, and you watch in awe as the Priest places a large gold crown onto his head. When he does, a lock of shiny black hair falls onto Jungkook’s forehead. You can’t help but smile, noticing how it somehow makes him look even more handsome. Your best friend is a King now and you have to blink a couple times to stop tears from forming in your eyes. 

Only a moment later, the cool metal of a tiara is resting on your hair, the edges of it sinking between your strands to keep it secure. It simply doesn’t feel real and you’re terrified of waking up from this dream come true.

You stand up as one and the entire chapel erupts with cheers and hollers. You and Jungkook make eye contact and both have to suppress a laugh. His eyes are shining with the light of the whole galaxy, and it brings you more happiness than you can put into words.

The celebratory feast commemorating your marriage begins as soon as you leave the chapel. The transition happens so quickly you don’t even get to speak with Jungkook privately before you’re entering the grand ballroom. The large space is ornately decorated and every corner has a giant table of food and wine.

Jungkook never once lets go of your hand. 

There is a constant stream of guests greeting and congratulating you, and his touch and presence beside you is the only thing keeping you calm. Jungkook is used to this, and he handles every single encounter with grace. You mostly stumble about and nod as people regale you with kind words and affection. 

Taehyung is on your mind the entire night, and your eyes are constantly scanning the massive crowd of people for his familiar head of hair. You want to speak with him as soon as possible to clear the air between you. He’s so important to you and it kills you knowing how much you hurt him. You never find him, and the evening comes to a close before you have a chance to reconcile. 

Before you know it, you and Jungkook are traveling in a lavish carriage to begin your honeymoon. The war prevents you from traveling to another country for the occasion, but you’ll still be spending a month at the family’s countryside estate before returning to your regular duties at the castle. 

Even though it’s the middle of the night when you arrive, there are staff outside the entrance waiting to greet you and take your luggage. 

The head parliamentarian escorts you and Jungkook to the King’s suite. Your hands are shaking again as reality kicks in, but you curl your fingers into your palm to keep anyone from noticing. 

The parliamentarian must escort you as well as stand outside your door tonight so he can report back that the marriage has been consummated. The thought of a stranger listening in on your first night with your husband makes your skin crawl, but this is how things are done when you’re royalty. 

The man opens the door to the suite so you and Jungkook can enter before shutting it behind you with a slam. Silence overtakes the room as your eyes roam over the walls and windows, the sachet in the corner, and the large bed in the center of the back wall. 

You take a shaky breath, itching at your sleeve where the unfamiliar material rubs against you uncomfortably. 

Jungkook gets your attention with a call of your name. He points at the artwork on one of the walls, a large painting with a gaudy gold frame encapsulating it. 

“What was the artist thinking when they made this one?” He asks through a laugh.

You hum as you study the painting. It’s rather unpleasant to look at, and you can’t even fully make out all the shapes and colors.

“We will have to call upon him to ask,” you respond. “I do not think one could guess if they tried.”

Jungkook laughs and the familiar sound eases your mind and calms your nerves a little. You keep reminding yourself that it’s just him, someone you’ve known all your life, but your brain still persists with its overthinking. 

You mosey around the room and peruse more of the artwork and decor before falling onto the bed with a plop. Despite your best efforts, your gown is too heavy and large to sit down normally. You’re half laying-half sitting on the mattress as your feet dangle over the edge. The fabric pools all around you and threatens to drown you in white lace. 

Jungkook joins you on the bed, but leaves a decent amount of space between you. 

“I am unsure if I know how to get this monstrosity off of me,” you admit with a scoff. 

Reaching over your shoulder, you tug at the ribbon caging you into the gown. When you aren’t able to loosen it yourself, Jungkook clears his throat, raising his eyebrows and gesturing towards you to ask permission. You let your hands fall back onto your lap before answering him with a nod of your head.

Jungkook kneels behind you on the bed so he can begin loosening the ties of the corset. You jump when you first feel his hands brush against you. He moves slowly, his touch as light as a feather as he unties the knot and begins to weave the ribbon back and forth to remove it. Once he’s about halfway done, the tension releases from around your waist and you take your first unimpeached breath of the day.

“Oh, thank you,” you sigh. You watch curiously as Jungkook stands to face you and reaches his hands out for you to take. “What?”

“Stand up and I will help you out of it,” he replies. 

You obey quickly, standing up while holding the fabric to your chest so it doesn’t fall away. Jungkook laughs when he notices the action.

“Why are you laughing?”

“I cannot get you out of it if you are holding it up, my darling.”

The deep timbre of his voice as he uses the pet name is enough to make your heart skip a beat. 

“Right,” you reply and let go.

Maybe Jungkook isn’t as nervous as you, or maybe he just hides it well. As a woman, you are completely untouched, your own hand being your only source of pleasure so far. But the rules are different for men and Jungkook may not be as shy about these things as you are. 

The dress falls into a heap on the floor and Jungkook takes your hands to hold you steady as you step out of the large skirt one foot at a time. Even with your body still covered by your underdress, this is the most exposed you’ve ever been to another person. The raw vulnerability causes your hands to start shaking again, but you let go of Jungkook before he can notice.

“Feel better?” 

“Yes, thank you so much,” you respond. 

Jungkook grabs the expansive amount of fabric and places it gently over one of the dressers. You return to your spot on the bed and he follows suit, this time sitting a bit closer to you.

A weighted tension creeps into the room like fog across the morning air. It beckons a silence between you that leaves only your breathing as background noise. There’s a feeling of anticipation floating around as well, like the whole atmosphere is on edge and waiting to see what happens next. 

“How do you feel now that everything is done?” Jungkook asks.

“Hmm, I am happy, but also nervous,” you admit. 

“Me, too,” he replies. 

“You are? I figured you would be used to this.”

“It is not the royal aspect I am nervous about.”

“What are you nervous about then?”

Jungkook chuckles and runs a hand through his hair, ruining the style and bringing his black locks down onto his forehead. It makes him look boyish and charming. 

“Not only did I go from being a Prince to a King in a matter of days, but I am a husband now, too. Your husband,” he explains. He looks down and sighs, his eyes closing momentarily. “I want to do right by you, Y/N.”

“You have always done right by me, Jungkook, I do not see that changing anytime soon,” you reassure him. 

There’s a lull in the conversation, but the tension is slowly dissipating and morphing into a comforting aura instead.

“Hmm, I am so glad it is you. I cannot imagine how anxious I would be if it was anyone else,” Jungkook states.

“Is that why you asked me?” You probe him. “Because I am familiar to you?”

“No,” he says with a shake of his head. You raise your eyebrows at him when he doesn’t add anything else to his answer. He chuckles and licks his lips. “I asked because I wanted to marry you. Simple as that.”

His eyes meet yours and the ever-present stars and sincerity in them make you feel like you’re the only person in the world. 

“Why?” You whisper. You fear if you speak too loud it will ruin the moment.

Jungkook tilts his head and tongues his cheek. 

“You know I am not good with my words,” he says. “Can I show you instead?”

“Show me?”

Jungkook nods as his hand twists around your forearm, gently pulling you towards him. You stand to better adjust your position, but then he pulls you into his lap, holding you by the backs of your thighs so he can place them on either side of his own. The sudden movement makes you gasp and hold onto his shoulders for support.

Being this close to him is startling, but feeling him beneath you is as comforting as a warm bath after a long day of work. You wonder how you ever went this long without touching him like this in the first place.

Jungkook’s hand caresses your jaw as he looks into your eyes. You can see the cogs turning in his mind as he assesses whether or not you’re comfortable with his touch. 

His hand is bigger than your entire cheek and the feeling of his skin on yours makes your eyes shut in pleasure. You feel his thumb gently moving back and forth across your cheekbone and you sigh happily. 

“Jungkook,” you murmur. “That feels so nice.”

“It does?” You nod your head with your eyes still closed. “Do you want me to keep going?”

“What do you mean?”

Jungkook’s chuckle forces your eyes open. There are crinkles around his eyes as his gazes at you from mere inches away. He looks so pretty up close. 

“We have to appease the man outside at some point tonight, so I am asking you if you would like me to keep making you feel nice,” he explains. 

Your mouth snaps shut as the overwhelming anxiety from earlier begins to burrow inside you again. There is no doubt your body wants your husband, wants Jungkook, as you can feel a tightness in your thighs you’ve only experienced during self exploration before, but it’s all so nerve wracking that you can’t bring yourself to answer him. 

“I… I have never, I —”

“I know, my darling,” he responds. His thumb moves across your cheek again before he leans in and presses a kiss to the other one. He lets his lips linger there for a moment before coming back to face you. “Was that alright?”

“Mmhmm.”

“Alright, how about I keep going and you tell me if you want me to stop,” he suggests. 

You only nod in response, not trusting your own voice to get your thoughts across clearly. 

Jungkook leans in and kisses the same spot before moving down your face, pressing his lips to every inch of skin he comes in contact with. When he reaches your jaw, he lets his tongue drag across you and it pulls a gasp from your throat. He kisses you even harder when he gets to your neck, his lips and tongue moving slowly against your delicate skin before sucking over your pulse point.

“Oh,” you gasp at the unfamiliar sensation. “Oh, Jungkook,” you moan. You don’t recognize the tone of your own voice.

“Still feel nice, my Queen?” His words dance across the wet spot he’s left on your neck.

“Yes, my King,” you answer breathlessly.

He continues to kiss across your neck and the exposed area on your shoulder while his hand moves away from your face to caress your body. Starting at your shoulder, he traces your outline slowly until he reaches your hip, where his other hand already resides on the opposite side. 

His lips leave your neck and a whimper escapes you involuntarily. Jungkook smiles and rests his forehead against yours. 

“Can I kiss you?” 

You giggle at him being chivalrous enough to ask when he was just painting your neck in his saliva.

“Yes, of course.”

Jungkook kisses you tentatively, so gentle with the pressure of his lips that you almost don’t feel it. You can tell he’s hesitant and doesn’t want to scare you, but when you feel his lips on yours for the first time, your own hesitation melts away. 

Your hands leave his shoulders to wrap around his neck as he moves his lips in a slow rhythm against your own. It sends sparks throughout your entire body and makes the feeling in your thighs even more distracting. Jungkook wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you closer to him so your chests touch. His hands flex against your back as he moves them up and down to feel you. 

You begin kissing him back as you get the hang of things, mirroring his movements and turning your head to gain better access. Jungkook’s hand sinks into your hair and you moan into his mouth when you feel his fingers on your scalp. The kiss is slow and sensual and you already feel more in your loins than you ever have when pleasuring yourself. 

“Jungkook,” you speak when you come up for air. “I need more.”

Jungkook smiles adoringly at you and kisses you once more before lifting you off his lap and standing up. He takes his first layers of clothing off without ever breaking eye contact with you. It has your thighs rubbing together as you watch his fingers pop open buttons and untie laces. 

Once he matches you in his state of undress, he gestures to you to come closer with his pointer finger. You obey instantly, not wanting to wait another moment to feel him against you again. 

“Have you ever touched yourself?” He asks once you’re standing inches from him. You nod. “Good.”

“Have you… done this before?” Jungkook frowns at your question, and you know he doesn’t want to disappoint you with his reply. “I will not be upset, I promise.”

“I have,” he answers. 

“Will you show me, then? I want to make you feel nice, too,” you ask quietly. 

The corner of Jungkook’s mouth quirks up and he nods in affirmation. His hands reach out to caress your waist before he turns you around so your back is pressed against his chest. The movement has you gasping, but it morphs into a moan when his lips return to your neck. 

He sits again, bringing you with him. He spreads your legs overtop his own which completely opens you up for him. It makes your heart race and your nerves come alive, but you push the anxiety away to continue enjoying his touch. 

His hand catches the bottom hem of your underdress and slowly moves it up until your undergarments are exposed to the air. You gasp and grip Jungkook’s forearm when his palm comes to rest over your center. He isn’t touching you yet, necessarily, but you can still feel your core pulsing in anticipation. 

“Do you trust me?” He whispers directly into your ear.

“Always,” you reply without missing a beat. 

Jungkook hooks his fingers in your undergarment and you lift your hips just enough for him to remove it from your body. The cool air against your wetness sends shivers down your spine. 

The initial feeling of Jungkook gently tracing your folds makes you jump in his arms. He shushes you quietly before continuing his ministrations, adding more pressure as his fingers spread your essence around. His hand moves upwards until he’s touching your swollen nub and a loud moan escapes from your mouth. 

Your hand covers your mouth in response, your eyes wide in shock of a noise like that coming from you. Jungkook chuckles warmly from behind you. 

“No, no,” he says, removing your hand from your face. “They are supposed to hear us, anyway. Do not muffle your noises. I want to hear everything, my Queen.”

Jungkook presses down on your clit and your moan again without restraint. He uses the wetness he collects on his fingers to massage you in your most sensitive spot and it makes your head spin. You’re certain if he wasn’t holding you, your knees would give out. They’re the same motions you use on yourself and yet his fingers make it feel so much more intense. It’s incomparable to anything you’ve ever experienced before in your life. 

He retreats back into your folds to spreads them apart before pushing his middle finger into your hole. You gasp again, your nails digging into his skin where you’re still holding onto his arm. 

“Is this okay?”

You nod repeatedly in response. It is more than okay. It feels so heavenly you wonder if you’re about to meet God himself.

Jungkook’s finger moves in and out of your hole slowly, a squelching sound accompanying each slide of his appendage. Before long, he adds his ring finger and fucks you with them both, stretching your hole open for the first time. 

“Oh, God,” you moan as your head falls to his shoulder. “That… that is amazing, my King.”

Jungkook presses a kiss to your cheek, leaving his lips there as he continues to fuck you slowly with his fingers. He presses his palm down so it meets your clit as his hand moves against you. Your moans are short and high pitched, happening in quick succession now as your orgasm nears. 

Your husband picks up the pace, moving his fingers faster and sending them deeper into your pussy. Every time he enters you he reaches a spongy spot inside your walls that has you reeling from the pleasure. 

Not only are you focusing on your own ecstasy, but you can feel him hardening beneath you and it makes you want him even more. There is a deep, instinctual need inside you to provide him the same pleasure he is giving you. 

“I want you to come for me, my darling,” Jungkook whispers before kissing your neck again. “Can you do that for me?”

“Yes, Jungkook, I am so close,” you respond. 

The words have barely left your lips when you feel your orgasm crashing over you like a wave with a high pitched scream that barely sounds like yourself. Jungkook continues to pump his fingers into you as you shake in his arms and your pussy convulses around him. 

It’s the most euphoric thing you’ve ever felt and it’s almost too overwhelming to bear. Your thighs are still shaking even once he removes his fingers. You watch with wide eyes as he slips them into his mouth to suck your juices off. 

“Jung — mmhf.”

He cuts you off with a kiss, gripping your jaw to keep your face where it is. You moan into each other’s mouths as you devour one another passionately. Jungkook leans you both back, the two of you crashing to the bed with him above you. Leaving your lips for only a moment, Jungkook reaches down to grab the hem of your dress and pull it over your head. 

It leaves you completely bare before him and on instinct you go to cover your chest and stomach. Jungkook smiles affectionately at your shyness, but he doesn’t scold you, just laces his fingers with yours and moves your hands away from your body. 

“I want to see you, too,” you say as you look into his deep brown eyes. 

Jungkook obliges you silently, stretching up and removing his top before kneeling to remove his pants, leaving him with only a single garment covering his manhood. 

“Better?”

You nod and reach up to bring his face to yours again. He lovingly traces over your figure beneath him, moving his hands over your waist, hips, shoulders, and arms. It feels as though he is trying to map you in your entirety. His big hands complete their exploration by grabbing both of your breasts and massaging them. You moan, your head falling back against the bed and opening your neck up for him to kiss again. 

He doesn’t stay there long before moving lower and kissing across your tits as he squeezes them. His lips latch onto your nipple and you gasp, you hand gripping his black hair in response. He sucks and licks over the nub of your left breast before moving to the right. The sensation has you going mad and it makes your hips buck up against his own. 

When you do, you feel how hard his cock has become. Your hand sneaks down and you grab him over his garment, pushing your palm gently against his bulge.

“Oh, darling,” he gasps. You laugh happily at his reaction, feeling accomplished that you’re pleasuring him as well. 

“Is this alright?” You ask as you bat your eyelashes.

“It is… so much more than alright. Please do not stop,” he begs you. 

You continue the same movement, applying more pressure as Jungkook’s head falls to your shoulder, pressing soft kisses on your skin as he moans. 

Feeling more confident now, you stop your movements to remove his undergarment. He stares at your hands as they reveal his body to you. A shuddering breath pushes past your lips when you see your husband’s cock for the first time. 

“Oh,” you say as your voice drops an octave.

Jungkook is what you can only assume is large. It’s certainly bigger than the penises you’ve seen in art and statues, but you have no real life comparison. He’s long and thick, with large veins running down his shaft. You don’t think your fingers will touch if you wrap your hand around him. 

Jungkook chuckles and raises your head to meet his eyes. 

“Do not worry. I will make sure you are ready before you take me,” he assures you.  

“How will you do that?” 

Jungkook doesn’t respond verbally, he simply maneuvers you both to the center of the bed before sinking down so his face is in front of your cunt. He leans down to kiss and bite along the supple skin of your thighs as he makes his way to where you’re leaking for him already.

His eyes bore into yours when he finally reaches your center and his tongue leaves his mouth for a tentative lick along your folds. You break his eye contact with a loud and deep moan as your head tips back and hits the pillows beneath you. 

“Oh, my King,” you sigh in ecstasy.

Your husband wastes not a single second more, his tongue flattening against your hole and licking up the essence that’s collected there. Your legs shake where they rest next to his head and your nails dig into the sheets, twisting them in your grasp. 

Jungkook is relentless, despite your body already showing signs of oversensitivity. His tongue slides through your folds as he kisses your cunt and moans into you. Then he moves to lick your clit and suck it into his mouth, before returning again to fuck his tongue into you. While his mouth is abusing your hole he uses his nose to create friction on your swollen nub. Everything he does sends shockwaves through your entire being and you feel like your consciousness is no longer on the earth. 

You come again faster than you can even register, your thighs locking around Jungkook’s head as you whole body spasms. Jungkook doesn’t stop, though, even once your breathing begins to return to normal. He continues on as if you didn’t reach a climax at all. It sends your body into overdrive and you gasp at the painful pleasure that shoots through your core. 

Hands finding his hair, you tug on the strands as your hips move to meet his mouth. He groans against you, nodding as if to tell you to keep going. You do, your pussy rubbing against his face while he licks your cum away.

Everything about it is downright filthy and yet it creates the most wonderful feeling to ever course through your veins. 

Jungkook’s mouth moves against you like he knows your body better than you do. His tongue only laps at you a couple more times before another orgasm hits you, and it causes you to gasp and moan pathetically as your hips gyrate against him. He finally comes up for air once he feels your body still, his head resting on your thigh as he kisses it softly.

“Did that feel good, my darling?” Jungkook asks with a smile. His pink lips are swollen and shiny with your essence. 

“You have no idea,” you pant, each word coming out across an exhale. 

Jungkook’s smile grows exponentially and he comes up to meet you at your lips again. You can taste yourself on him and it makes you moan into his kiss. 

“Are you ready, my Queen?” 

His eyes peer into your own when he asks and you can tell he wants to see you so he knows whether you truly are or not.

“Well, what about you?”

“You do not need to worry about me,” he tells you.

“But I want to,” you argue. “I want to pleasure you, my King. I want to give you everything.”

Jungkook pauses your conversation as his eyes search yours for something.

“Are you saying that because you think it is your duty?” 

“No.”

“Then —”

“I am saying it because it is how I feel about you, Jungkook. It has nothing to do with duty.” 

Jungkook sighs and kisses the tip of your nose. You can’t help but blush, the gentle affection warming your heart and making you smile up at him.

“I would love nothing more, my darling,” he tells you. “But I think we should save that for another day. Truthfully, I need to be inside you or I will go mad.”

His words spread heat throughout your entire body. 

“Is that so?”

The smirk currently occupying your lips isn’t there for long because Jungkook kisses it away. A dreamy sigh comes from you as your tongues meet for a lazy dance inside your mouth. You could kiss him forever if given the chance. The taste of his lips and the feel of them against your own has you completely hypnotized. 

Jungkook uses the distraction of his kiss to line himself up with your core, gently running the tip of his cock through your folds and then spreading your cum down his shaft to lubricate his skin. Your pussy reacts immediately, clenching around nothing and leaking more cum onto your thighs. When he’s ready, he nuzzles his nose against yours and kisses your cheek. 

“This may hurt,” he warns you.

“I know,” you smile reassuringly. “I will be alright.”

“You will tell me if you are uncomfortable at all, yes?”

“Yes, darling,” you reply in a mock-tone of his deep voice. He beams at you, his eyes disappearing for a moment before giving you one final peck. 

Jungkook enters you slowly, letting just his head push past your tight circle of nerves before waiting to make sure you’re alright. Your nails dig into the skin of his shoulders as your pussy stretches to accommodate him. It isn’t as painful as you expected, more so a tight pressure within your walls. You nod reassuringly at him once you’ve adjusted and he continues gently until his hips meet yours and his cock is nestled up against your cervix.

You gasp at the full intrusion, your lips kissing his shoulder and biting down on the muscle to relieve the foreign ache. 

“Try to relax, darling, it will help,” he coos in your ear. 

Taking multiple deep breaths, you close your eyes and wait for the pressure to subside. Once it does, you’re mesmerized by the pleasure. Jungkook’s cock throbs inside you and he’s so thick that you can feel every ridge and vein pressing against your walls.

“Okay,” you say, looking into Jungkook’s eyes and brushing his hair away from his face. He still looks hesitant, raising his eyebrows at you confirm you’re truly ready. You answer him with a kiss and he smiles against your mouth. 

Jungkook rears back slowly, never once looking away from you to ensure you’re alright, and then sinks back in. You moan when he enters you again, this time feeling nothing but pleasure and euphoria. His tip repeatedly hits the same spot inside you and it makes you see stars as your eyes roll back. 

His body hovers over yours, his forearms holding him steady. Your hands are in his hair and around his neck, tugging on the strands in time with his movements. He grabs your leg to bring it higher around his hip and thrusts into you even deeper. Your moans tangle together in the air between you along with the wet sound of his cock entering you over and over. Jungkook is fucking you like his life depends on it, like is whole life has lead to this very moment. He kisses your shoulder and neck and sucks on your earlobe before finally coming back to your lips to ravish your mouth. 

Consummation of marriage doesn’t seem like the right term for this act anymore, it’s too exquisite to be described in such a mundane way. 

You gaze up at Jungkook as he watches his cock come out of you and go back in again. He groans at the sight, throwing his head back, and you run your hand down his sharp jaw to grab his attention. 

“I love you,” you tell him, despite how terrified you are for him to finally know the truth. His eyes go wide, his mouth opening and shutting again when he can’t find the right words to reply. You smile at his reaction, finding it utterly adorable how you’ve stunned him into silence. “I love you, my King, my husband… my Jungkook.”

Jungkook blinks repeatedly and you can see tears pricking at the corners of his starry eyes, which only makes yours do the same. He maps your face with his eyes as he relishes in your confession. His head shakes in disbelief, but then he smiles and breathes out a laugh.

“I love you, Y/N,” he finally responds. “My Queen, you have no idea how long I have loved you.”

He kisses you again, this time so ardently it steals your breath right from your lungs. His thrusts speed up while your mouths chase each other, the emotions swirling inside you both making you even needier. Your nails rake down his back in red streaks as he pistons into you and grinds against your hips. 

“M’close, my love,” he tells you with a kiss to your neck. 

“Give me a child, Jungkook,” you reply. “Fill up my womb, please.”

Jungkook groans extensively into the skin of your neck as his pushes your hips deeper into the bed so he can fuck you harder. One his hands sneaks between your bodies to massage your clit, making sure you are on the same precipice as he is. 

You come together, loud moans filling the air as your pussy spasms and squeezes Jungkook’s cock inside your walls. Warmth spreads through you as his cum fills you up and he fucks it deeper into you. Gasping at how utterly full you feel, you go to move until Jungkook stops you with a squeeze to your hip. 

“Not yet,” he whispers. “I do not want you to lose a single drop.”

The thought of Jungkook’s seed sitting deep inside your womb and him refusing to pull out to keep it there has you moaning all over again. 

You whine at the feeling of emptiness that overtakes you when he does finally leave the warmth of your cunt. You’re in delirium from all the climaxes and pleasure your husband gave to you and you can barely keep your eyes open. 

Jungkook cleans away any excess fluid from between your legs with a rag before tucking you in and joining you in the bed. He kisses you goodnight with a peck to your lips and forehead before telling you he loves you again. You are already halfway asleep, but make an attempt to tell him the same nonetheless. 

The honeymoon gets extended to three months, simply because Jungkook refuses to share you with anyone else; completely content with having you all to himself for just a while longer. Now that the feelings you were both hiding for so long are out in the open, you want to enjoy your time together without reality sneaking its way in. 

When you do finally return, you’re very much pregnant. Initially, you and Jungkook decide to keep it a secret, but then his mother notices the small bump over your womb and practically shouts the news from the rooftop of the castle. Your mother and father are absolutely elated and everytime they even glance at you tears of joy well up in their eyes. 

Your pregnancy is celebrated all throughout the Kingdom with festivals and parades, but there’s one person you never hear congratulations from. In fact, you barely see him around the many halls and rooms which surround you, as if he’s merely a myth your mind conjured up. 

Once you do see Taehyung, it’s a far cry from the reunion you were hoping for. All he does is bow to you before continuing on down the corridor. His eyes don’t even meet yours and his expression is stone cold and empty. Your heart absolutely shatters in two and you find solace in the library to cry the ache away.

Jungkook finds you before anyone else does, his eyes going wide when he sees you slumped over with your head in your hands.

“Darling?” He crouches down before you and pulls your head up by your chin. “My love, what is wrong? Is it something with the baby?”

“No,” you cry and shake your head. “Taehyung… he will not even look at me.” 

Jungkook frowns and tucks some of your hair behind your ear. 

“Just give him some time,” he tells you.

You shake your head again.

“No, I need to speak to him. I have to tell him why I accepted your proposal and not his,” you explain. 

“Taehyung proposed to you?” Jungkook asks, shock evident in his tone.

“Yes, when he came to tell me he was leaving for the war,” you state. “He told me he would come back and marry me, but I did not give him an answer.”

“Why not?”

“Because I have only ever loved you, Jungkook.”

Just as you feared, time does nothing to bridge the gap between you and your best friend. 

The war ends six months into your pregnancy, and even as all the residents of the castle gather in the ballroom for a celebratory feast, he utters not a single word to you. When you give birth a few months later, your relationship is still not mended and you fear it never will be. 

PRESENT DAY

Taehyung thinks he’s going to throw up. His hands are sweaty and shaking, his internal temperature is dropping, and his leg won’t stop bouncing against the bleachers. Despite all that, he can’t bring himself to peel his eyes away from you and Jungkook as you enter the gym together.

Jungkook’s fingers are laced with yours as you walk just ahead of him. Your smile is so bright when you glance back at him momentarily and all Taehyung can think is that you don’t know. You have no idea you’re holding hands with your own killer. 

Once you reach the other cheerleaders you wrap your arms around Jungkook’s neck and hug him. He smiles at your embrace and nuzzles his head in the junction of your neck and shoulder, pecking your cheek before letting you go. You mouth “I love you” to him and his smile grows as he repeats the phrase back to you. As if it could get worse, Jungkook taps your ass before walking towards the locker room. You don’t even turn around to scold him, just playfully slap his hand as he laughs and leaves you with your teammates. 

Bile threatens to scratch Taehyung's esophagus as he watches Jungkook stroll away from you and disappear into the locker room. He hopes no one notices his staring problem, but it’s impossible for him to look away from the reincarnation of his former best friend. 

This shouldn’t be possible and yet he can’t deny what’s right in front of his own eyes. 

A buzzer pulls Taehyung from his thoughts and the game begins with introductions of both teams. You’re standing courtside in your usual spot at the center of the formation. You cheer as they announce all the players and you yell even louder when they announce Jungkook, after which he winks at you and returns to his position on the court. 

The irony of a former King and Queen being reincarnated as the captain of the cheerleading squad and the captain of the basketball team doesn’t escape Taehyung. Because what else would they be? 

Taehyung would love nothing more than to enjoy the game and cheer along with the rest of the crowd, but his mind is slowly spiraling into madness. 

He needs to find out if Jungkook remembers his past life or not.

If Jungkook does have his memories, that means he’s dating you when he knows what he did and you don’t. Taehyung’s face scrunches in disgust at the thought. He would have to be getting off on it if that’s the case, of knowing he has you back in his clutches while you’re clueless. 

On the other hand, if Jungkook doesn’t remember his last life, then you two are clearly drawn together by some other force of nature that Taehyung isn’t aware of. Perhaps this is just the way your fates are always meant to align, with you and Jungkook together while Taehyung has to come in and save you from him. At least this time Jungkook doesn’t have the authority to murder you.

The biggest question of the night is still how. 

Sometime before you and Taehyung were killed, he sought out a sorceress to cast a protection spell. The spell was simple, but it could only be cast on one of you, so Taehyung made the decision to cast it on you instead of himself. It read:

The person you love will follow you into the next life, and with a kiss, your memories will be returned to you. 

Taehyung chose the spell because he wanted you and him to get a do-over in case something bad happens to you. The only requirement of the spell is that you have to die together, or at least in quick succession to one another. Since that prerequisite was met, you were reincarnated and he has knowledge of his past life. 

Jungkook being here adds a wrench of astronomical proportions to his plans and makes him wonder if Jungkook cast a spell of his own before he killed you. Maybe he got wind of what Taehyung had done and decided to add himself into the mix. 

He may never find out, especially if Jungkook is truly clueless to who he was before. 

When the game ends, Taehyung watches with a clenched jaw as Jungkook scoops you into his arms and lifts you off the ground. You giggle as he does it and the sound is so beautiful it almost brings tears to Taehyung’s eyes. He can practically feel the happiness radiating from you as Jungkook kisses you before setting you back down on the floor. 

It feels like the past is haunting him and laughing in his face. The image of you two before him is so familiar he can almost picture you in your wedding gown instead of your uniform. 

You and Jungkook hold hands again as you converse with all the students coming over to congratulate the team on their big win. Taehyung knows it’s now or never and makes his way down to greet you two.

“Taehyung!” You wave at him with your free hand. 

Jungkook looks up to follow your line of sight. He doesn’t look stunned by the sound of Taehyung’s name and his eyes don’t go wide when he spots him amongst the crowd, so that must be a good sign. 

“Hey,” Taehyung says as he steps in front of you. 

“Taehyung, this is Jungkook and Jungkook, this is Taehyung,” you introduce the two boys. 

Taehyung could laugh out loud at the irony of it. 

“Hey man, it’s nice to finally meet you,” Jungkook says as he shakes Taehyung’s hand. “Y/N has told me all about you. I’m glad she finally has someone to study with who doesn’t distract her.”

“You mean yourself?” You say, turning to him with a smirk.

He teasingly blows a kiss at you and your head tilts to the right, accompanied by your usual nose scrunch and smile combo.

“It’s nice to meet you, too,” Taehyung says with a forced smile. If he could go a hundred lives without ever meeting Jungkook again, he would. “She talks about you a lot, as well. The mysterious boyfriend.”

“Yeah, I wish we could’ve met sooner. This one says we would get along great,” Jungkook explains. 

He moves behind you to rest his arms over your shoulders, his chin meeting your hair. Your fingers absentmindedly trace his tattoos where his arms hang over your chest. Taehyung’s eyes follow every movement and he has to fight not to lose his mind at the displays of affection. 

“You think so?” Taehyung asks you and you nod repeatedly.

“Oh, yeah,” you answer. “I don’t know what it is, I can just tell you’d be like two peas in a pod.”

“Well, we should all hang out sometime and see if she’s right,” Taehyung suggests. 

He only does so because he needs to know for sure about Jungkook’s memories. If he can find ways to test him and possibly trip him up, he will. 

“I’m always right,” you argue. 

“Mmhm, sure you are, my love,” Jungkook says as he kisses your shoulder before standing back up to his full height and taking your hand. 

Taehyung almost visibly recoils at the sound of one of Jungkook’s old pet names for you. 

“We have to get going to the team’s celebration dinner, but I’ll text you and maybe we can plan something with the three of us?” You propose. 

You go to grab your bag but Jungkook is already slinging it over his shoulder. When you notice, you smile and slap his arm playfully.

“Yeah, sounds great,” Taehyung responds. 

Jungkook waves goodbye and you follow suit before you’re both turning around and heading for the door. You lay your head on Jungkook’s bicep as you walk and he bends over to kiss the top of your head. 

Taehyung throws his head back with a groan. He’s waited hundreds of years and spent the last 20 or so looking for you only to find you in Jungkook’s arms yet again. He wants to have a word with the universe so he can really speak his mind on the matter. 

You text him a couple days later inviting him to a party with some athletes at an off-campus house. It isn’t ideal, but he needs to get as close to you as possible if this is ever going to work. 

The familiar stench of cheap beer and marijuana is already infiltrating Taehyung’s nostrils as he enters. In fact, he walks right through someone’s puff cloud and coughs his whole way into the house. Once inside, he grabs a strong drink from the kitchen and starts searching for you. 

When he finds you, you’re facing his direction while closing one eye to better aim your ping pong ball. Jungkook is opposite you, his back to Taehyung, as everyone waits with bated breath for the outcome of your shot. 

You toss the ping pong ball with precision and it bounces once on the table before sinking right in the center cup. Throwing your hands up to cheer, your proud eyes find Jungkook’s to validate your accomplishment even though he’s on the opposing team. 

“Ha! Take that, Kook,” you tease.

“Alright, alright, I’ll give you that one,” Jungkook responds as he grabs the ball from the cup and downs the drink. “But it’s the last one you’re going to get, baby.”

Jungkook is much quicker than you with his aim and sinks his ball into the matching cup on your side of the table. He puts his arms out and shrugs when you pout in his direction. Rolling your eyes, you chug the beer before setting the cup to the side. 

Taehyung stands to the side to watch the rest of the beer pong tournament and unfortunately for you, Jungkook was right, and you never land a ball in one of his cups again. 

When the game ends you sulk your way over to Jungkook, making a show of crossing your arms over your chest and pouting at him. Taehyung has to look away when he notices Jungkook bending down to kiss the pout away. By the time he looks back, Jungkook has his arm around your shoulders and yours is around his waist.

“Oh, Tae, hi!” You shout when you notice him. “Oh wait, can I call you that?”

“Of course,” Taehyung replies with a smile. “Hey Jungkook.”

“Hey, what’s up? Glad you could make it,” Jungkook says. 

“You know I think the rules of boyfriendship say you’re supposed to let your girlfriend win at these things,” Taehyung points out.

“See! What did I say?” 

You look up at Jungkook, the pout returning with a vengeance.

Jungkook squishes your cheeks between his fingers and coos at you mockingly. You giggle and your eyes squeeze shut before pushing him away with a gentle shove to his chest. 

“I never let anyone win,” Jungkook states. 

I am fully aware.

“It’s true, he’s stupid competitive, but he’s also magically good at fucking everything, so it kinda works in his favor,” you explain. 

“I bet I could beat you at something,” Taehyung says casually.

Jungkook’s eyebrows move up his forehead, a big toothy grin appearing on his face.

“Am I finally about to face a worthy opponent?” He asks rhetorically, his voice pitching up with eagerness. “What’s your game, Taetae?”

Taetae? 

Taehyung is almost tempted to ask Jungkook to slice his neck open again. It’s becoming increasingly difficult to feign nicety when all he wants to do is punch the guy. Whether he has his memories or not, he’s still the only obstacle left standing in Taehyung’s path to you. 

“Um,” Taehyung scopes out the landscape of the house. “Darts?”

Jungkook nods, pursing his lips as he thinks and gazes at the dart board. 

“I can do darts,” he replies.

You leave to grab more drinks while they stroll over to the empty corner where the dart board is hanging. Jungkook pulls the darts from the board and tosses some to Taehyung before stepping back behind the duck tape marking the floor. He gestures with his hands for Taehyung to go first.

“So, I don’t want to make anything awkward, but I feel like I have to give you the obligatory ‘don’t try anything with my girl’ speech,” Jungkook says after Taehyung has thrown his first dart. “Not to say you guys can’t hang out because I’m not like that. She can do whatever she wants. I just like to let guys know that I mean business, ya know?”

“What do you mean?” Taehyung asks.

“I mean that I’m head over heels in love and would do just about anything to keep her next to me,” Jungkook states. He aims quickly and throws his first dart. “As long as she wants me, of course.”

“And if she didn’t… want you, I mean, would you fight for her?” Taehyung continues before taking his next throw. 

“Of course I would,” Jungkook responds with a shrug, as if it’s the easiest answer in the world. “She means everything to me.”

Taehyung can hear the sincerity in Jungkook’s voice and it reflects in his eyes, too, even in the dim lighting. 

“I hear you, Jungkook. Loud and clear,” Taehyung says before gesturing for Jungkook to take his next shot. “How did you guys meet anyway?”

Jungkook takes a sip from his cup before throwing his next dart, the guy barely has to look at the board and he still hits a bullseye. Some things never change. 

“The weekend before freshman orientation all the athletes move in early and have this big mixer,” Jungkook explains. “She took my fucking breath away from across the room, but we were actually friends for a long time before we started dating.”

“Why is that?” Taehyung throws his last dart and then leans against the nearby railing. 

“Well, honestly, I wanted to try out the whole ‘soil your oats’ thing when I first got to college, but then the more time I spent with her, the more I couldn’t get her off my mind. I never even touched another girl the whole year, even before we got together.”

“Baby, I brought drinks!” Your sweet voice rings out before they can continue their conversation.

Jungkook turns around at the sound of it, a huge smile on his face even though you’ve only been gone a couple minutes.

“Oh, thanks, Princess.” 

He greets you with a kiss as he takes the beer bottle from your hand.

Taehyung has to hide the way his teeth grind together at the nickname. He hates how ironic it is given that you were never a Princess, only a Queen, because you were shoved into a role you never asked for by your so-called best friend.  

His inner monologue is interrupted when you hand him a beer bottle as well. He thanks you with a bow of his head before turning back to the game. Jungkook throws his last dart and then leans forward to count up the points. 

“Oh, you guys are tied,” you say with a smile. “Looks like someone’s giving you a run for your money, Kook.”

“It appears so,” he responds. “I think you were right about me and Taetae, we’re gonna be great friends.”

Taehyung’s head tilts at the tiny lick of sarcasm in Jungkook’s voice. He doesn’t think you notice it, though, since you’re still smiling at your boyfriend like he hung the stars in the sky.

There isn’t a second round because you tug on Jungkook’s hand and ask him to dance with you instead. He obliges your request without hesitation, already moving towards the other room while you wave goodbye to Taehyung. Once you’re gone, Taehyung runs his fingers through his hair and looks at the dart board with matching scores. Figures.

He doesn’t see you again until much later after he’s had a little too much to drink. When he does, he immediately regrets coming to look for you. 

Jungkook is pinning you against the wall as he kisses you slowly, his mouth moving against yours like he has all the time in the world. His knee is between your thighs and he’s caressing your waist beneath your shirt. You make out hungrily, his tongue slipping into your mouth while you bite on his lower lip. Jungkook grips your jaw and kisses your neck, sucking on your skin and making you whimper. Your hands run up his back and grip tightly onto his jacket.

“Kook,” you moan. “Upstairs.”

Jungkook nods at your command from where his face is still against your neck. Without missing a beat, he takes your hand and leads you around the corner to the back stairwell. Taehyung can hear your giggles as you two run up the stairs together.

Taehyung actually does get sick this time. It’s a mixture of the alcohol and his mind agonizing over the thought of you two in a bedroom alone together. His knuckles turn white as he grips the edge of the toilet bowl he’s currently bent over. 

Jungkook shouldn’t get to touch you like that, shouldn’t get to hold you or kiss you after what he did. 

Taehyung’s eyes snap shut as the memory of you clutching your bleeding neck flashes in his mind. He presses his knuckles to his eyelids to try and get the image to go away. It never does. Taehyung is constantly haunted by the look of terror in your eyes as you fall over and bleed out right in front of him. 

He presses his forehead against the cabinet next to him as he tries to catch his breath. He still isn’t sure if Jungkook has his memories or not, but it doesn’t matter anymore. You deserve to know exactly who you’re dating. 

A few days later, you’re sitting across from him with half a gummy worm hanging from your mouth while you read something on your laptop. Every so often you start typing and your brow creases in concentration. Taehyung can’t keep his eyes off you for a second. You’re undeniably endearing and it’s taking everything in him not to reach across the table and kiss you right now. 

“Jungkook says he really likes you,” you say without looking up.

“Really? I honestly couldn’t tell,” Taehyung replies.

“Oh yeah, no, he talked about you a lot after the party. Said he finally met his match,” you continue. 

“Hmm, he wasn’t jealous at all?”

You look up with confusion written on your face.

“No,” you stretch out the syllable. “Should he be?”

“No, no! I just know him and I talked about it a bit and —”

“Talked about what?”

“Well, about you being his and that I should respect that,” Taehyung explains.

“Oh, yeah, he does that,” you say with a wave of your hand. “In his eyes, I’m the most beautiful girl in the world, so everyone must want me, ya know?”

“You are,” Taehyung accidentally says before biting his lip aggressively. Your eyes bulge as you stare at him in shock across the table. “I… I didn’t mean it like that.”

You nod, your lip held captive between your teeth while you look everywhere but at Taehyung. 

“Um —”

“Y/N, I’m so sorry,” Taehyung interrupts. “I promise, I’m not trying to make a move on you or steal you away from Jungkook. You just… I mean, objectively, you are beautiful, and truth be told you remind me of someone I used to know, so I just… oh I don’t know.”

“It’s alright,” you say with a gentle smile. “Let’s just forget about it, yeah?”

You end up missing your study session with him on Thursday, shooting him a text an hour after you normally arrive that you got caught up with something else and you’ll see him next time. 

Taehyung already knows next time is never going to come. You’ll subtly ghost him after making excuses for a few weeks, and he doesn’t blame you. He crossed a line and you’re trying to set some boundaries in return. But he refuses to leave you in the dark any longer, and if his plan is failing, he’ll need to come up with another one.

There’s a home basketball game tonight, so Taehyung buys a ticket at the entrance before heading into the gym. You’re already there with the other cheerleaders, but Jungkook is nowhere in sight. Taehyung knows he has to be quick about this and doesn’t hesitate to approach you courtside.

“Hey,” he greets you.

“Oh, hi,” you respond with your usual smile. Maybe you really were busy yesterday or maybe you’re just good at hiding your true emotions. 

“Can we talk for a minute?”

Your body tenses at his question, and your eyes flit to the other side of the room, but you eventually nod and the two of you leave and stand in an unoccupied area behind the gym doors. 

“What’s up?” You ask as you cross your arms.

“I just wanted to make sure everything is still good between us,” he admits. 

You nod slowly and chew on your lip as you debate over your answer. 

“Honestly? No,” you confess. “You’re really fun to hang out with and I’ve enjoyed our study time together, but what you said the other day… it’s obvious that this is more than a friendship for you and I’m not comfortable continuing to hang out one-on-one knowing that.”

Taehyung’s hands begin to shake as he digests your words. He knows what he has to do and yet he can’t bring himself to do it.

“Look, I do like you as more than a friend, and I think you should give me a shot because Jungkook isn’t who you think he is.”

“Excuse me?” You gawk at him. “You’ve met him twice, Tae! How dare you?”

“No, Y/N, you don’t understand.”

“What don’t I understand, huh?”

“That… you don’t have all the information, but I can give it to you,” Taehyung offers.

“Information? What are you even talking about?” There’s a momentary pause until you shake your head and put your hands up in surrender. “You know what, no, I don’t even wanna know. I trust my boyfriend more than a guy I’ve known for barely three months.”

You start to walk away, moving swiftly past Taehyung, but he catches your wrist.

“Wait!”

“Taehyung, let go of me.”

“I’m sorry about this.”

Taehyung uses his grip on your wrist to pull you into him and presses his lips to yours. He never wanted to do it this way, never without your consent, but he’s losing you again and he can’t risk that. 

It only lasts two seconds before you’re shoving him off of you, but it’s enough. This kiss is the final puzzle piece to returning your memories so you can be together again. 

“What the hell, Tae?” You shout before running back towards the gym.

The words have barely passed your lips when the first wave hits you. It stops you in your tracks, your hands bracing themselves on the cold metal doors as images flood your mind. 

Ball gowns, children playing, a grassy field with wildflowers, two horses galloping towards you, blood pooling on the floor. You gasp and your hand instinctively grabs at your neck. The mirage stops and you shake your head, thinking it’s just some bizarre daydream brought on by the stress of Taehyung’s actions. 

You return to your courtside formation just in time to see Jungkook entering the gym from the locker room. As soon as your eyes land on his silhouette, more images appear.

A large bed in a dark room, a gold crown, white roses, a baby cradle, his hand pulling a dress up your thigh, him spinning you in the air, and finally, his eyes, sharp and cold, looking at you in disgust.

You trip over nothing at all, accidentally bumping into your teammate behind you. She asks if you’re alright, but you're too frazzled to verbally answer her and nod instead.

Jungkook notices your abnormal behavior from across the room and pivots to walk towards you. When he does, the Jungkook you know seemingly blinks out of existence and is replaced by a version of him in medieval attire with a crown on his head. You blink rapidly to eradicate the hallucination, but it only lasts for a split second before you see him in his basketball uniform again.

Lifting your hands to stop him from coming any closer, you avoid his eyes and turn around to take a sip of water. Your head is pounding as unfamiliar scenes infiltrate your mind one at a time. Nothing makes sense and you wonder if you somehow fell asleep and are dreaming all of this. You pinch your forearm and flinch when your nails dig in and send a sharp pain through your skin. 

You try to steady your breathing, but the images are unyielding and overwhelming. Looking up into the bleachers, you see Taehyung, and just like before, he phases into a version of himself wearing knight’s armor and a shield.

Grasping the side of your head and massaging your temple, you turn back towards the game just as the buzzer sounds. 

The roar of the crowd and the players yelling commands at each other only serves to make matters worse. You brace your head between your hands and bend over, willing the kaleidoscope of visions to cease. Squeezing your eyes shut, you count your inhales and exhales in a feeble attempt to self soothe.

Another cheerleader rubs your back and asks if you’re feeling okay, but her voice sounds like it’s coming from underwater. All you can see, hear, and feel are the vivid daydreams of you, Taehyung, and Jungkook in medieval clothes as you stroll around a huge stone castle. The last thing you see is Taehyung held taut by two knights. A deep, foreboding aura seeps into your bones and then you feel a sharp blade slice across your jugular. 

Everything fades to black as you pass out. 

“Oh, my God, Y/N,” the cheerleader behind you gasps as you fall into her. 

All movement on the court comes to a screeching halt, and Jungkook is throwing the ball out of his hands before running over to you.

“What happened?” He asks as he bends down. His fingers gently move your hair away from your face and he presses the back of his hand to your forehead to check your temperature.

“I don’t know, she looked like she was having a migraine and then she was just out,” someone explains. 

Taehyung starts moving through the stands to reach you, but before he can, your eyes begin to blink open. He stands still as a statue as he watches you take in your surroundings. When you see Jungkook leaning over you, you gasp and move away.

“No… no,” you whimper.

“Baby?”

“No, don’t touch me,” you yell when his hand goes to caress your arm.

“Y/N, it’s me.”

“No, no, no,” you cry as you cradle your head in your hands. “Make it stop, please make it stop.”

Jungkook looks at the girl still holding you in horror, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes. 

The first-aid team runs in and heads towards the commotion. One of them tries to move you, but you only wail louder and coil into yourself, preventing them from doing anything to help.

“We’re gonna need to sedate her,” one of them says.

“What?” Jungkook asks with wide eyes. “What do you mean?”

The paramedic doesn’t answer him, they just stick a small needle in your arm and push the medicine into your vein. Your cries subside into whimpers almost immediately, and then you’re out cold again.

The gym is completely silent as everyone watches with concern for you and your wellbeing. 

The paramedics move you to a stretcher and roll you out of the gym. Jungkook stands to follow them, but not before turning over his shoulder and meeting eyes with Taehyung. 

“You, with me, now,” he orders. 

And that’s the moment Taehyung finally knows for sure. Jungkook has his memories. He knows exactly who he was in his past life, and more importantly, what he did.

1430

You’re clutching your dress between the fingers of your left hand as you take quick steps down the hall, attempting to catch up to the tiny figure ahead of you. The five year old is far too quick for your liking, and she’s mischievous in nature which only makes it worse.

“Sooyoung,” you call when you finally catch up to her, scooping her into your arms when you’re close enough. “What did mommy say about running in the corridors? There are big, pointy objects all around and you could run into one.”

“Sorry, mommy,” she giggles, tucking herself into your chest. 

You rub her back and place a kiss in her hair. Just then, you hear the sound of a door opening and Jungkook steps out, running his hands through his hair methodically.

“Daddy!” Sooyoung shouts and wiggles herself away from you. 

Putting her down, you watch as her little feet carry her to his side. Jungkook stops in his tracks, his eyes bright with affection and a large toothy grin on his face. When she finally reaches him, he lifts her up by her waist, bringing her over his head as she giggles endlessly before resting her against his hip.

“How is my beautiful Princess doing?”

“Good, I learned the alphabet this morning,” she tells him.

“You did? Baby, that is wonderful,” he praises her. She smiles and leans over to plant a wet smooch on his cheek. Jungkook laughs and returns the favor to her, kissing her multiple times until she tells him to stop with a giggle. When Jungkook reaches you he leans down to kiss your lips. “Hi, my love.”

“Hello, my King,” you say as he passes Sooyoung over to you. You put her down and let her roam in the room just off to the left where some of her toys are. “Are you joining us for lunch?”

“No, my darling, I cannot,” he says with a frown. You mirror his expression and he tucks some of your hair behind your ear. “I am sorry, my Queen. You know I would if it were up to me.”

“I know,” you reply. 

Even though the war which took the lives of Jungkook’s brother and father ended shortly before you gave birth to your first son, another one broke out three months ago. Thankfully, since his heirs are too young to rule in his stead, there was a mutual agreement that Jungkook wouldn’t go away to fight because of what happened during the last war. But even though he’s here with you, moments like this are some of the only ones you get to spend together. 

Other than these brief encounters when you happen to cross paths, the only time you see him is when he comes to bed for the night. During the first month of the war, you would stay up for him, waiting in eager anticipation for the sound of his footsteps coming down the corridor. When he did finally arrive, he would sweep you up into his arms and make love to you before tucking you into bed and falling asleep with you in his hold. Over time, his entrances into your bedroom came later and later, and you would fall asleep while waiting for him. Now, he simply presses a kiss to your forehead in your sleep before pulling you into his arms. When you wake up, he’s usually already gone.

Everytime you get so much as a glimpse of him, it soothes the melancholy feeling in your heart and brings a smile to your face. Even if all you see is a familiar head of black hair and broad shoulders turning around a corner.

Time moves torturously slow without him beside you and you feel the ache of missing him all the way down to your bones. The loneliness is becoming unbearable, especially since your two eldest children, Sooyoung, who is almost five, and Junghyun, named after his late uncle, who is seven, are busy with their tutor most of the day. That leaves you with your identical twin boys, Minho and Wonshik, who are two. They’re quite entertaining, but nothing can fill the void of not having your beloved husband around. 

“Perhaps I will see you tonight?” You ask.

“I hope so,” Jungkook says as he caresses your cheek. He bends down to kiss you again, for longer this time now that your daughter is out of the way. “I love you, my Queen, so very much.”

“I love you more,” you reply with a final peck. 

Jungkook raises his eyebrow to silently challenge your statement before waving goodbye to you and your daughter as he continues down the corridor. 

Sighing in exasperation, you call for your daughter and take her hand as you walk towards the dining hall to eat lunch with your other children. 

Some days later you’re walking through the large gardens behind the castle while the twins nap inside. Early afternoons are the only time of day when you’re able to take a break from motherhood and be alone with your thoughts. Although, you’re certainly not lacking in alone time at the moment. 

As you pass by the hedges on your way back inside, you spot Taehyung speaking with some fellow knights. You no longer attempt to make eye contact with him and neither does he. It’s been nearly eight years since you last spoke besides obligatory greetings or discussions involving his duties. The idea of you two ever being close again is a pipe dream you stopped hoping for long ago. You miss him dearly, and you always will, but it’s useless driving yourself mad over an impossibility.

After lunch, you hear a knock at the nursery door where you’re playing with Minho and Wonshik. When you see Taehyung enter after allowing the visitor entry, you’re taken aback. He’s usually only ever with Jungkook or completely a task on his behalf. 

“Sir Taehyung, can I help you?” You ask him.

“I am assigned to be here, your Majesty,” he answers you flatly.

“Pardon?”

“The King has assigned me to be your personal guard.”

“Why would I need a personal guard?” You question, pulling Minho closer to your chest. There’s never been a reason or need for you to be under supervision before and you don’t like the sound of it.

“The battlefront has moved closer to the Eastern border and as such, King Jungkook wants you and the children to each be guarded day and night in the event that the enemy breaks down our defenses or sneaks into the Kingdom,” he explains. 

You nod as you digest the news, looking down at your two-year old who gazes back with familiar big, brown eyes. Putting him back on the ground to play with his twin, you stand and walk towards Taehyung.

“If that is the case I believe we should have a conversation, Sir Taehyung.” 

“I do not believe that is necessary, my Queen.”

“I think it is,” you argue. “If you are going to be with me around the clock I do not want it to be awkward.”

Taehyung grimaces and chews on his bottom lip as he thinks about his following words. You cross your arms over your chest for good measure, even though you look nowhere near intimidating.

“I do not wish to speak about the past, but I will attempt to be cordial with you for the sake of the arrangement,” he proposes. “Is that alright with you, your Highness?”

You mull it over in your mind for a minute before nodding curtly and turning back towards your children. 

His assignment of guarding you is considerably more boring compared to his usual duties. All he does is walk behind you at a reasonable distance while you traverse the gardens, stand behind your seat at meal times, guard the door while you read in the library, and sit in the nursery with you as you play with the children.

Despite Taehyung assuring you otherwise, the first days of his assignment are extremely awkward. He hardly speaks to you and when he does, it’s clipped and cold. But time seems to massage the tension away and slowly, but surely, he warms up to you. 

The first time you see him smile is when Wonshik decides to come towards you for a hug and falls flat on his face. Your whole body tenses in shock when you hear the nostalgic sound of Taehyung chuckling behind you. It brings a huge smile to your face even as you’re trying to calm Wonshik down from his accident. 

Eventually, the quiet moments turn into real conversations.

You often stop to enjoy nature during your garden walks and there’s a large bench near the creek you like sitting on. One day, your hand taps against the stone and you look over your shoulder at Taehyung. He raises his eyebrows, silently asking if you mean for him to sit there. When you nod, he waits a few moments before moving towards you and sitting down on the other end of the bench. 

“Is this not the most beautiful view?” You ask as you gaze out across the creek.

“It is one of them, for sure,” Taehyung answers. 

It’s the first time he’s said anything of substance to you in close to a decade, and you almost begin to cry at the thought. 

“The valley by my house was beautiful, too, but I believe I prefer this,” you state. Taehyung only hums in response. “Do you have any special spots around the castle you think are particularly nice?”

“I do, actually,” Taehyung says. “There is a corridor just off the maid’s quarters where they store the new and old artwork as they cycle through them. I go there sometimes and look at the art up close. Not many people know about it, so it is always peaceful.”

You admire his profile as he speaks, and a smile appears on your lips involuntarily. Even with the passage of time, his features are identical to the boy you once knew. Losing his friendship has always been your biggest heartbreak, and you can feel your soul slowly healing whenever you’re with him. 

That encounter becomes the starting point for your new relationship with Taehyung. It becomes a routine to stop and chat during your daily walks, and you look forward to it everyday. As time goes on your conversations grow longer and dive deeper. You never touch on the past, but you don’t need to. The friendship picks up where it left off as if no time has passed at all.

A few months into Taehyung’s assignment as your personal guard, you’re walking through the garden when Jungkook comes out from the castle.

“Darling?” You call out to him when you see him. “What are you doing out here?”

“I came to say goodbye, my love. I have to leave to speak to some allies in a neighboring town,” he tells you. 

You frown and your shoulders drop. When Jungkook reaches you he takes your hands in his and kisses them.

“How long will you be gone?”

“Three days.”

“That is Sooyoung’s birthday.”

“Well, then I will make it two days,” he responds without missing a beat.

“Are you sure?” 

Jungkook smiles and tucks your hair behind your ear.

“I would not miss it for the world, my love,” he assures you. You acknowledge his promise with a nod before wrapping your arms around his neck to hug him goodbye. He returns the gesture in kind, lifting your heels off the ground as he embraces you tightly. “I love you, I will see you soon.”

He kisses you for a lingering moment before nodding towards Taehyung and leaving to meet the parliamentarians in the entryway of the castle. 

You bite down hard on your lip to stop the bubbling sorrow within you from spilling over to the surface, but it does so anyway. Hands coming up to hide your face, a sob breaks from your chest as your palms collect your tears.

“Your Majesty? Is everything alright?” Taehyung asks, his surprise at your reaction evident in his tone. He moves to stand in front of you.

“I am sorry, I do not mean to be emotional,” you say as you lift your head and wipe the tears away.

“That is nothing to apologize for,” he states. “Can I do anything?”

“No, no,” you respond. “Unless you know how to end this Godforsaken war.”

“Is it the war that is upsetting you, my Queen?”

“Yes, because it is the war that is keeping my husband from me.”

“What do you mean, your Highness?”

“I have not had a real conversation with Jungkook in nearly half a year, Sir Taehyung,” you tell him. “Moments like these are all I get. He is too busy with battle strategies and trade routes to spend any time with me or the children.”

“Your Highness, I am so sorry to hear that. I was not aware,” he replies. 

“I should not be telling you this, I apologize,” you say. “Please forget I mentioned anything.”

“Your Highness, if there is anything I can do to help, please let me know,” Taehyung offers.

The conversation ends there and you finish your stroll before returning inside to your children for dinner. When you tell them about Jungkook being gone, they all cry the same as you, not used to their father being gone even though he’s around less these days. The sentiment is shared amongst all five of you. You feel Jungkook’s absence from the castle everywhere you turn even if you wouldn’t normally see him anyway. 

Exiting your room the next day, you find Taehyung outside your door as usual, but he has something hidden in his left hand. Before you have the opportunity to question him about it, he pulls a bouquet of wildflowers from behind his back.

“I wanted to cheer you up, your Majesty, I hope I am not overstepping.” The flowers are purple and white, same as the ones which grew outside your home. You gasp in delight, your hands coming up to cover your mouth. 

“Oh, Taehyung, they are so beautiful,” you tell him as he hands them to you. “Thank you so very much.”

You don’t realize your slip of the tongue, the honorific noticeably absent when you say his name, and it brings a smile to your companion’s face. 

“I am glad you like them, my Queen,” he says with a deep bow.

You smile at him, your head tilting to the right as your nose scrunches, before putting your nose to the bouquet to smell the flower’s sweet scent. It reminds you of home and fills you with a deep, comforting warmth.

Over the next two days you and Taehyung begin to speak even more, conversing as you walk the halls and making jokes while playing with the children. Taehyung even joins you on the floor and playfully teases the twins with a game of peek-a-boo. It’s the happiest you’ve been in months. You still miss Jungkook dearly, but the loneliness that’s made a home inside your heart goes away on a brief vacation.

By the morning of Sooyoung’s birthday Jungkook has yet to return, but you still have hope he’ll make it back before the end of the day. 

You’re arranging some of her presents sent from family members and citizens alike when Taehyung enters with some more that were just dropped off. As you’re moving one of the larger gifts, your hair falls into your face and you attempt to push it away by blowing air out of your mouth since your hands are full. 

Suddenly, you feel a fingertip against your cheek, and you look over to see Taehyung moving the strand out of the way for you. He’s close enough that you can see the deep chocolate color of his irises. 

An unfamiliar tension threads itself between you both as you stand in silence only inches apart. Taehyung opens his mouth to say something, but is interrupted by a voice coming from outside the room.

“Where is my beautiful wife?”

Your eyes light up at the sound of Jungkook’s voice, breaking the moment between you and Taehyung in an instant. Rushing towards the door, you throw it open and look for the source of your husband’s voice.

Jungkook spots you from down the hall and he sighs in relief, an adoring smile growing on his lips. Running towards him without another thought, you laugh cheerfully as he opens his arms to welcome you into his chest. 

Instead of hugging you, though, he grabs you by the waist and lifts you above his head as he often does with your daughter. You make a sound somewhere between a laugh and a squeal before wrapping your arms around his neck as he brings you down into his embrace. 

“Oh, I missed you, my darling,” he whispers into your hair. 

“I missed you so much, Jungkook,” you respond and bury your face into his shoulder. “You made it back in time.”

“I promised you I would, did I not?” You look up and nod, fresh tears evident in your eyes. He frowns when he notices them and reaches up to wipe the tears away. “What is wrong, my love?”

“I just missed you, that is all,” you answer. 

Jungkook nods in agreement before bending down to kiss you. Your mouths move together in a practiced rhythm, his hand holding the back of your head to keep you against him. Your fingers curl around the fabric of his shirt as he tilts his head to kiss you with more fervor. He swallows the noise you make when his tongue traces your bottom lip and sinks into your mouth. It’s a passionate dance you haven’t experienced in months, and it almost makes you start crying again. 

You reluctantly pull away, the breath missing from your lungs, as your hands tighten around the collar of his shirt. 

“I am sorry it has been so long since I have done that,” Jungkook pants as he caresses your face. “I hope you know I think about it all the time. I am always thinking of you, my Y/N.”

You nod as another tear rolls down your cheek. Jungkook kisses it away before letting you go so he can greet the children. 

Your strange moment with Taehyung is forgotten, and weeks go by with your friendship continuing to blossom as it did over those two days. 

Jungkook leaves again, this time for a week, to visit with the ruler of a neighboring Kingdom who can possibly help end the war. It breaks your heart all over again, even though you know a week isn’t that long. The distance between you has just grown so wide, that seeing him between meetings and feeling his arms around you at night is the only thing keeping you sane. 

You haven’t had sex since the first month of the war, and it feels like you’re being slowly drawn and quartered. Before, sex was almost a nightly occurrence, sometimes even twice a day if the children were with their grandparents. Jungkook spoiled you with pleasure, and now the torture of being without his touch is downright unbearable.

Sometimes you pleasure yourself, just to take the edge off, but it’s nothing compared to Jungkook. He knows your body better than you do, and your hands don’t even come close to doing him justice. 

Last night you cried yourself to sleep from the pain of missing him and the need pulsating in your thighs. You’d do anything, even take up a sword yourself, to end this war so you can have him back. Whenever he’s gone, it feels like the weight of the entire castle is sitting on your chest. 

Your emotions from the night before are still evident on your face this morning, and Taehyung notices. 

“Are you alright, your Majesty?” He asks after greeting you in the library. “Your eyes look swollen, did you have a negative reaction to something you ate?”

“No,” you say with a shake of your head. 

“Then, what is it, my Queen?” Taehyung probes with a look of concern.

“It is nothing, Sir Taehyung,” you answer. “I was merely missing my husband again.”

Taehyung frowns and takes a step closer to you. You notice the movement, but don’t step back as you normally would.

“Is there anything I can do? Anyway I can help you, your Majesty?”

Taehyung’s gaze is piercing and it makes your face and neck flush with a pink hue. Without warning, an undeniable heat begins to spread across your abdomen and simmer in your gut. You know the sensation all too well, but you’ve never felt something like this for Taehyung, even before you were married. Forcing your eyes shut, you will the temptation to disappear. But it’s been so long since you’ve been touched, and Taehyung is the one constant in your life at the moment. 

“I… am not sure,” you admit. 

“Is it just him that you miss or something else as well?” Taehyung asks cautiously. “I cannot do anything about your husband not being here, but I can help in other ways.”

Biting your lip hard enough to draw blood, you avoid his stare and beg your feet to move away from him. All you need is to take a single step back and the tension will break. 

“Taehyung,” you speak softly. 

“Y/N,” he replies, his eyes sharpening. It’s the first time you’ve heard his voice speak your name since before you got married, before you became Queen.  

“Will you help me… please?” 

Taehyung moves like lightning, as if he’s been waiting an eternity for you to say those words. His warm hands engulf your waist so he can push you back until your thighs hit the large desk behind you. He lifts you effortlessly, placing you on the edge of the wood without ever breaking eye contact. Descending to his knees before you, his hands trace the curve of your legs over your dress. 

Your brain is screaming at you to stop now before you’re past the point of no return. But there is nothing you can do, your body is overriding the commands which normally control your movements. It’s aching to be touched, and it no longer cares who’s doing it. 

Taehyung’s hands disappear beneath your gown, caressing your ankles and calves before he’s pulling up the fabric so it rests above your knees. His head leaves your line of sight, and then you feel a featherlight touch to your covered sex.

You gasp, clapping your hand over your mouth when you do. Taehyung’s fingers trace your folds through your undergarment, and you can feel his warm breath on your inner thighs. Then, you feel him pull the fabric aside and he touches you for the first time. You moan into your palm as he dips his fingers into your essence and carries it up to your clit. He gently circles the sensitive nub before pressing down hard and rubbing. Head tipping back in euphoria, you use your elbows to keep yourself somewhat upright.

He plays with your pussy for a while, exploring the unfamiliar territory of your body, before finally sinking his fingers into your hole. Your desperate whimper is muffled by your flesh when he inserts two fingers into you and begins pumping them in and out. The wet squelch of him fucking his fingers into is almost foreign, since it’s been so long since you’ve heard it. 

A shockwave of pleasure devours you whole when he kisses your clit and then flattens his tongue to lick you repeatedly. He matches the pace of his fingers and the dual sensation has you biting down on your hand to stop yourself from screaming. You feel yourself drowning in the hellish desire that’s slowly overtaking your soul.

Taehyung moans against you, removing his hand from your pussy to grip you by the thighs and pull you closer to his face. Once he’s hands-free, he begins devouring your cunt like he hasn’t eaten for days. He licks all the way up your slit before circling your clit with his tongue. Then he goes back down and kisses you as he drinks the juices leaking out of your hole. Your mind is paralyzed by the pleasure and it isn’t long before you feel your orgasm nearing. 

Your hand grips his hair, tugging on the dark strands and making him grunt. He licks you harder in response, fucking his tongue into your hole and using his nose to keep friction on your clit. You come with a cry, sinking your teeth into the skin of your hand to keep yourself quiet.

It’s only then you realize you’re crying, but they aren’t tears of pleasure. The emotional response is from the unfathomable guilt and self-hatred over what you’ve just done. An act you can never take back and must live with for the rest of your life.

Taehyung licks you a few more times, slurping up your cum and moaning at the taste before rising to stand in front of you. Your chest is red and heaving as you come down from your high. He looks smug and proud of what he’s done to you, and it makes you sick. 

You gag into the hand still covering your mouth before leaping off of the table and finding the nearest basin. The contents of your stomach force their way up your throat as you vomit into the receptacle. Your fingers shake and you grip the metal edge to hold yourself upright. Bile burns your esophagus as tears roll down and collect on your chin.

When your stomach is completely empty, and only mucus drips from your mouth, you fall over onto the floor. Your hands cover your face as you scream and cry. The harsh, deep sobs making you gasp for air and cough repeatedly. 

“What have I done?” You wail into your hands and shake your head back and forth, as if the movement could somehow turn back time. The faces of your children and husband flash across your mind and make more tears fall. You think of Jungkook, hundreds of miles away, probably wondering how you’re doing, and your soul tears itself to shreds. “Oh, God, what have I done?”

Taehyung crouches down next to you and moves his hand along your spine to soothe you as best he can. You’re undeserving of his affection, the only thing you deserve now is damnation. 

Jungkook comes home three days later. You get sick again as soon as you hear his voice filtering in from down the hall. 

A month goes by without you or Taehyung mentioning the incident. You push forward and pretend like nothing happened, or least you do. It’s uncertain how Taehyung feels, but frankly, you don’t care to know. The only thing that matters is that it can never happen again. You’ve loved Jungkook since you were a child, and the putrid thought of betraying him again is enough to send you to your grave.

But it’s hard, it's so very hard. Because he isn’t here beside you to hold you and kiss you and remind you that everything’s going to be alright. You only hear his voice every few days, if that; only feel his touch once every other week if you happen to wake up in the night and feel his arm around you. The loneliness is suffocating you from the inside and you feel it choking you to death more and more everyday.

You cry for hours on end most days. The self-hatred, guilt, sorrow, and despair mix together to create a cacophony of emotions you have no way of controlling. Taehyung just waits outside your door and listens to your sobs with no power to do anything about them. 

Your children are the only joy in your life at the moment, but even spending time with them is difficult because all four of them share a pair of eyes with their father. Everywhere you look you see pieces of Jungkook, whether in the children or in the desolate halls of the castle, but you never see the man himself. 

At least strolling through the gardens and speaking with Taehyung while you sit near the creek brings you peace. It reminds you so much of old times and you’re relieved to finally have your best friend back after reconnecting over these many months. 

He makes you laugh and listens intently when you tell him about the books you’re reading and what the children are learning about in their lessons. In return, he talks about knighthood and whatever silliness the men got up to in their freetime. Without him, you don’t think you would be surviving this endless solitude. 

“Your Majesty, if I may?” Taehyung says from beside you on the bench. You gesture with your hand for him to continue. “Forgive me for my forwardness, but your mental state is only getting worse. I do not know how much longer you can go on like this.”

Eyes glancing down, you pick at the fabric of your dress and pull at the threads with your fingers. 

“I will be fine. I just have to wait until the war is over,” you state.

“Your Highness, the last war went on for close to four years, and it has not even been one yet,” he points out. “You cannot go on like this.”

“What would you have me do?”

“You already know the answer to that.”

“No,” you snap at him. 

“Y/N —”

“No, do not even think of speaking it out loud,” you order him sternly. “That was the biggest regret of my life and I will not give into it again.”

“There is no reason you should be alone, Y/N!” Taehyung stands and faces you as he speaks. “Jungkook asked you to marry him and now he leaves you alone and untouched and it is killing you.”

Tears prick at your eyes as Taehyung’s words force reality close enough until you can no longer hide from it. Jungkook’s love for you is unquestionable, and you know the war is the sole reason he isn’t beside you, but the war is still ongoing, and he has no control over its end. 

“Taehyung, I cannot betray him again,” you whisper, more so to yourself than to him.

“It does not have to be like that,” Taehyung argues. “It is just pleasure. A body to touch and hold you so you are no longer lonely and isolated. Nothing can take away from the love you and him share. But this situation is unfair to you, and you know it is.”

“What is in it for you, Taehyung?” You ask him. “Why are you so set on being the body which helps me with that endeavor?” 

“You already know why, my Queen. My feelings have never changed, even after all this time.”

The day Taehyung confessed his feelings for you was so long ago it almost feels like another lifetime. You never responded, because you didn’t share those same feelings for him. But these months together have meant more to you than you can even articulate, and you aren’t sure if that’s still the case. 

What you feel for Taehyung is very different from what you feel for Jungkook.

Jungkook is, without a shadow of a doubt, the love of your life. Your love for him burns deep within your heart like an ever-glowing hearth. It’s solid and foundational to your very being. He's your best friend, husband, and father of your children, and there’s nothing in this world that could make you love him less. 

Taehyung is more like a candle, something that only burns you if you reach out and touch the flame. It’s warm and inviting during a time where your whole world feels dark. The love feels familiar because the seed was planted long ago and nourished throughout your years of friendship, but now it’s blooming.

“You still love me?” 

“With every part of me.”

You pause and compartmentalize your thoughts before continuing. 

“I never meant to hurt you, all those years ago,” you tell him. “I am sorry for doing so.”

“It is alright, my Queen,” he responds, taking his seat beside you again. “I know you did not have much choice in the matter.”

You assume he means the speed at which everything happened, and don’t correct him.

“I care about you very much, Taehyung.” You inhale and close your eyes, counting to four before releasing the air from your lungs. “I do love you. It… it is not like my love for my husband, but it is there. I cannot deny that.”

“Then will you let me do this for you?” Taehyung asks. When you look at him, his eyes are glossy, no doubt from the confession of your newfound feelings. “I am not asking for anything in return, your Majesty. I only want to help you.”

Your thoughts trample over one another as they all scramble for the top position on the dog pile. But you truly believe the only way you’ll survive this war is if you shut your mind off, turn out the lights and let your body puppeteer you. 

Taehyung is right that your depression and isolation are slowly killing you. There’s no energy left for you to play with your children, you can barely eat or sleep, and your hair has even begun to fall out. 

So, you follow him to his quarters in the Eastern wing of the castle. 

You jump at the sound of the door shutting behind you and locking into place. It’s strange being inside his bedroom, but the trinkets and items scattered around the room feel familiar to you because they’re his.

Taehyung is quick to capture your lips with his and it sends a shock through your nervous system. You’ve never kissed anyone but Jungkook, and he kisses you so differently than your husband does. If Jungkook is water, Taehyung is fire. The kiss scorches you and burns across your insides until it lights a fire inside your stomach. You allow yourself to return his affection, let your lips move against his as he walks you backwards towards the bed. 

The two of you fall together onto the mattress with a soft bounce. Taehyung’s hands find your own and pull them over your head, imprisoning them against the bed. He begins to kiss down your face and neck, sucking gently and licking over your skin. You moan and tilt your head to give him more access to you. It’s been so long since you’ve felt ravished and worshipped, and your body welcomes it on impulse. 

He moves slowly from your neck to your chest, his lips and tongue caressing the tops of your breasts and softly biting down on the fatty flesh. 

You nudge him with your knee to make him sit up before reaching around to untie your corset. Taking the hint, Taehyung begins undressing as well. His armor meets the floor with a loud metallic clap as you step out of your clothes and return to his bed. 

He moves you up the mattress by your waist, all the while still kissing you and exploring your mouth with his tongue. Taehyung takes a moment to admire your bare chest before him, his hands coming up to caress your breasts and then kiss them. His tongue circles your nipple before sucking on it, turning it hard and sensitive between his teeth. You gasp and moan as your hands grab onto his hair. 

Continuing down your body, Taehyung removes the undergarment hiding your pussy from him and kisses your folds. Your head falls back against the pillows as your chest rises with ragged breaths. He eats you out like it will be his last meal, and if the two of you are ever caught, it will be. His tongue fucks into your hole and the sloppy sound of your essence and his salvia mixing into one fills the room. He moves to your clit and lets his teeth scrape over the flesh. You whine as he sucks and licks on your sensitive nerve endings.

His two middle fingers enter you with a wet squelch and he starts curling them so they press against your spongy walls. You moan freely, knowing the first knight’s quarters are completely secluded. He pumps his fingers in and out of you as he devours your clit with his mouth. Your head is spinning in ecstasy. Your pussy greedily sucks his digits in and leaks essence all over his hand.

It doesn’t take long for you to come with a strained gasp, your legs shaking and clenching around his head. 

Taehyung removes his fingers slowly before licking them clean and kissing along your thighs. When he kisses you again you can taste yourself on him. It’s been so long now that the flavor is almost foreign.

You push forward without reprieve, wrapping your legs around Taehyung’s thighs to flip him over. He matches your eagerness and starts pulling his undergarment off so you can pump his cock with your hand. The sound of spit has Taehyung’s eyes rolling back as you coat his length in your saliva and begin sliding your fingers up and down his shaft. He moans from deep within his chest. His eyes close as he relishes in the feeling of you jacking him off. His cock is big and thick, and your mouth waters instinctively as you think about him filling you up. 

Once he’s hard and leaking precum all over your hand, you position yourself over him and sink down into his lap. The intrusion hurts at first, since your hole isn’t used to stretching open anymore, but then your pussy adjusts to the shape of him and pleasure rolls over you in waves. 

Taehyung’s hands grasp desperately at your hips, his fingertips making divots in your flesh. He leans in to kiss and suck on your breasts again and you hold his head to you to continue enjoying the feeling. Hips rising until only his tip is left inside, you slam down against him and proceed to bounce on his dick at a steadfast pace. Identical moans breach the air and Taehyung sits up to kiss at your exposed throat when your head tips back. He licks across your jugular and bites into the skin below your ear. Need and desire course through you like lava as the veins of his cock rub against your velvet walls. 

You force your mind into submission, refusing to allow the feelings of guilt and despair to take a single breath. This is something your body has been craving for months and now isn’t the time for your incessant thoughts to bury you in agony. For the first time in a long while, your mind is completely silent. 

Tears of pleasure fall as Taehyung guides you by the hips to bounce on him harder, sending his cock deeper into your cunt until you can feel him in your stomach. When your bodies meet, you grind against his pelvis to create friction on your clit. 

“You cannot come inside me,” you say through a groan. “You will have to pull out and come on my skin instead.”

Taehyung nods responsively before grabbing you by the hair to kiss you feverishly. His tongue sinks into your mouth and tangles with your own and you moan around the wet muscle. Your teeth drag his bottom lip away before letting it snap back into place. You hear him growl beneath you.

“Does it feel good, my Queen?” 

“Yes,” you answer breathlessly before pushing him back onto the bed and gripping his chest to support your body.

Your nails scratch at his pecks as you fuck yourself on his hardness, leaning down to kiss his collarbones and shoulder. Taehyung takes the opportunity the new position grants him to plant his feet on the bed and thrust up into you. You scream, biting down on his shoulder to muffle the sound as he abuses your pussy. You feel his balls slapping against your ass as he fucks into you relentlessly, not slowing his pace for a single moment. 

“I am going to come,” you pant into his ear. 

“Please, my Queen, let me feel you finish,” he responds. 

Your orgasm builds from embers into a slow-burning fire as Taehyung’s final thrusts send you over the edge. When your cunt pulses and soaks Taehyung’s length in cum he moans and rolls you over in one fluid motion. His cock leaves you empty and he fucks his hand before painting your stomach in his seed. 

You gasp at the novel feeling of cum splashing onto your flesh. It’s hot and sticky, but you feel prideful over the physical manifestation of Taehyung’s pleasure on your body. 

Taehyung gets up from the bed while you’re still trying to catch your breath. The feeling of a wet cloth greets you as he wipes away his cum from your skin and then throws the cloth onto a dresser. 

“Did it help, your Highness?” 

You can only nod in return, too fucked-out and delirious from the pleasure and adrenaline. 

It does help. The two of you continue to sneak away to his quarters two to three times a week so you can use his body to relieve the ache of loneliness. Soon enough your energy returns, allowing you to play with your children again. You lovingly watch their smiles and hear their laughter as they run around the grass. Your appetite returns and your health improves, both physically and mentally. The guilt still eats at you like a famished predator, especially anytime you see Jungkook around the castle or feel him pull you into him at night, but your mind has reached its limit and it can no longer carry the weight of the world.

Neither of you speak of the feelings you shared in the garden before this all started. Taehyung knows how fragile and vulnerable your mental state is and he doesn’t want to pressure you into making this anything more than what it is; just the pleasures of the flesh, only desire, and not love. 

The anniversary of the war comes and goes as if it’s just another day, and you and Taehyung continue your affair unbridled. Your entanglements don’t last much longer than that, though.

On the last day of your life, you and Taehyung are in his quarters getting dressed after sleeping together. He leans down to kiss you goodbye when the sound of his door hinges breaking forces you apart. 

Four knights barge in, followed by Jungkook. 

Your husband’s eyes are unrecognizable, cold and harsh, with no light in them. Reality grips you tight and your hands clasp over your mouth when you realize what must happen now. Jungkook doesn’t say a word, just gestures towards you with his head to command the knights to grab you.

“No! Wait!” You shout as they take each of your arms and restrain you between their bodies. They do the same to Taehyung and he thrashes against their hold. “Wait, Jungkook, please let me explain.” He’s turned away from you now, but you see his hands shake before clenching into fists. The membrane around your heart closes in on the beating muscle. “Jungkook, please just let me see the children,” you beg. “Let me say goodbye to them. Please, my King.”

There’s a heavy moment of silence, the only sound coming from the tears already rolling down your cheeks. 

“Take her to the nursery before bringing her to me,” he instructs the knights before exiting. The knights holding Taehyung force him out of the room to follow Jungkook while they bring you in the opposite direction. 

The knights hold you taut between them as you walk to where your children are with their nanny, but there is no need. You won’t fight the inevitable. 

When you reach the nursery, they let go of you with a glare of warning before allowing you to go inside. The tears begin to fall again as soon as you see your children playing with their toys and books on the ground. 

“Mommy!” The four of them shout in unison before running over to you, the young twins stumbling over their little legs to get to you. 

You bend down and open your arms for all of them to embrace you at once. Your hands comb over their hair as you kiss their heads. The tears never once cease as you gaze at their beautiful faces.

“Why are you crying, Mommy?” Junghyun asks as he wipes at a tear on your cheek. He’s practically a mini Jungkook, his big eyes and black hair identical to his father’s. 

“I have to go away for a while, and I am going to miss you so very much,” you tell him as you caress his cheek.

“Where are you going?” Sooyoung asks with tears in her own eyes.

“It does not matter, my Princess, all that matters is that I love you, and I will miss you all so, so much,” you explain as your voice breaks. “Daddy is going to take good care of you, alright? You know mommy and daddy love you more than anything, yes?”

All four of their little heads nod at you. It makes you smile through the streaks of tears coming down. 

“I love you, mommy, and we will miss you, too,” Junghyun says. 

He wraps his arms around your neck and you have to bite your lip to suppress a sob. Minho and Wonshik coo and make grabby hands at you for attention. You pick them up one at a time and kiss their cheeks as they tell you they “wuv you foo.”

Sooyoung, your brave little girl, wipes her own tears away before hugging you and kissing your cheek. You return the affection and brush her hair from her eyes. 

“Alright. Goodbye, my loves,” you say as evenly as you can. 

You don’t glance back at them as you leave. If you see them even once more, you know you will not be able to walk down the long corridor to the fate that awaits you. The knights take your arms again once you’re out of sight of the children. The tears finally cease, and you walk with your back straight and head up. 

There’s no reason to cower from what lies ahead, you made your bed and now you must lay in it.

PRESENT DAY

The first-aid team brings you to the nurse’s office in the adjoining building to the gym. The nurse briefly checks your vitals before letting you sleep off the medicine in the back room. It’s supposed to last about an hour, so she places two chairs inside for Taehyung and Jungkook to sit while they wait. 

Jungkook storms in first, barely allowing Taehyung to shut the door behind him before he’s facing him with rage burning in his irises. 

“Really great fucking timing, Taehyung, truly,” he snaps.

Taehyung has to refrain from physically attacking Jungkook. He clenches his hands into fists until his nails make crescents in his palms. 

“You disgusting piece of shit, you fucking monster!” Taehyung shouts. “How dare you hold and kiss her and let her love you when you know what you did and she’s clueless!”

“How dare I?” Jungkook mirrors his tone. “How dare you! You transferred to our fucking school and became friends with her just to try and steal her from me again.”

“I am trying to save her from you!” Taehyung says through gritted teeth. 

“Save her? What am I going to do to her, Taehyung? I’m not a King anymore, I’m a fucking college basketball player.”

“You murdered her and she deserves to know.”

Jungkook pauses for a moment, taking a deep breath and releasing the pressure from his neck with a turn of his head.

“Executed.”

“I’m sorry?”

“I executed her, Taehyung, not murdered. And I did it because it was my fucking job as King!” Jungkook yells as he closes in on his former friend. 

“She was your wife, the mother of your fucking children and —”

“YOU LEFT ME NO CHOICE!” Jungkook screams at him before stepping back again. He runs his hands down his face and pushes his hair back before continuing, calmer this time. “What did you want me to do, huh? What should I have done when my Queen and first knight betrayed me? Should I have made you sleep in the stables and called it good? That would’ve done an amazing job at showing the entire Kingdom and all our enemies how much of a coward I am.” Jungkook laughs incredulously. “No, no, you do not get to make me the villain, Taehyung. I may have held the blade in my hand but you are the reason she died.”

Taehyung doesn’t respond to his statements, just shakes his head and asks him what he really wants to know.

“How are you even here, Jungkook? I had a sorceress put a spell on Y/N to reincarnate us. You were never supposed to be a part of it,” Taehyung explains.

“I don’t know, Taehyung, what did the spell say?” 

“That the person she loves will meet her in the next life and return her memories.”

Jungkook stares him down with his eyebrows raised.

“I’m sorry, you’re confused why a spell like that would bring me, her husband, here, too? You can’t see why that would include me?” Jungkook scoffs and turns away. “Do you think I forced her to marry me, Taehyung? Forced her to be with me and bear my children? Who the fuck do you think I am?” He turns back towards Taehyung again with more fire in his eyes. “She loved me. We loved each other and your little affair did nothing to change that.” 

“That’s not what I mean. There was a catch, Jungkook. We had to die together for the spell to work. One right after the other.” Jungkook goes quiet after he hears Taehyung’s words, his eyes tilting towards the floor as his jaw ticks. “Wait…”

“I hadn’t even cleaned your blood off my sword yet.”  

Taehyung takes a step back, his eyes opening in shock. He shakes his head, pushing his hair from his eyes as he does so.

“You aren’t seriously saying —”

“I didn’t plan to do it,” Jungkook admits quietly. “But when I looked down at you two, I just…” He glances at your sleeping form, his eyes following the way your chest rises and falls. “I couldn’t live without her. Couldn’t live without either of you, truthfully.”

Silence is all Taehyung can respond with as the true answer of how the three of you are all together again breaks his resolve of confronting Jungkook. The two don’t speak again, they just take the seats at opposite ends of the room and wait for you to wake up.

When you do, it’s with a groan. Your hand comes to rest against your temple as you slowly sit up. Once you’re sitting on the edge of the bed, your eyes finally open and land on Jungkook across from you. They widen for a moment, but then soften as tears well up in them. 

“Jungkook,” you cry, your arms opening for him. 

He gets to you in a millisecond, pulling you into his chest and wrapping his arms around. You sob against him as your hands grip the edges of his uniform. He shushes you comfortingly, combing through your hair with his fingers and pressing his lips to the crown of your head.

“S’okay, baby, I’m right here,” he whispers to you. 

You stay like that for a while, your cries filling the room and breaking both their hearts in the process.

“Do you know?” You ask without looking up. “Do you have your memories, too?”

“Yeah, my love, I do,” he answers you.

You look up at him with glassy eyes. It’s overwhelming now that your memories are back. He’s here in front of you as you know him, but just underneath the surface there is a shimmer of the King you once knew. 

“And you still wanted to be with me after we met?” You ask through a hiccup. “Even knowing what I did?”

Jungkook grabs your face with both hands, pushing your hair out of the way so he can see you properly.

“Are you kidding?” He smiles at the memory of your reunion. “When I found you again it was the happiest day of my life.” A watery chuckle comes from your lips. “I don’t care about any of that, Y/N. I have loved you in all of my lifetimes and I will continue to do so in however many more the universe grants me.”

“I love you so much,” you tell him. “And I am so, so sorry.”

He shakes his head, his thumb moving across your cheekbone lovingly.

“It was a long time ago, my darling. All is forgiven.”

“It doesn’t feel that way, it feels like it was only yesterday.”

“That’s only because you just got your memories back,” he reassures you. “After a while, they’ll feel more like an old dream.”

You nod to acknowledge his words before crashing back into him, letting your arms snake around his neck as he pulls you into his lap. It only takes you another minute to fall asleep again in Jungkook’s arms, a side effect the nurse warned them about earlier. 

Taehyung doesn’t stay much longer. Truthfully, he needs to gather his own thoughts, and he knows you’ll be in no condition to talk with him when you wake up. 

You text him once the weekend passes and ask to meet by the lake behind the university. When he arrives, you’re already sitting on the wooden bench with your legs crossed and a notebook open in your lap. He doesn’t approach you right away, instead he just takes in the sight of you tucking a piece of hair behind your ear and bending over to write in your notebook. 

“Hi,” Taehyung greets you as he rounds the bench.

“Hi,” you reply quietly and gesture for him to sit beside you. 

“I didn’t see you around campus at all this weekend,” Taehyung notes.

You sigh and meet his eyes with a soft smile.

“Yeah, um, Jungkook and I decided to take the train to the museum they built out of our castle. We saw our family crypt, too, where we, our children, and grandchildren are buried,” you explain. 

“Oh, wow,” Taehyung replies. 

“There was this history book they were selling at the gift shop with our entire family tree in it. We sat where the library used to be and read it together. It talked about what happened to the children and had the names and titles of all your grandchildren,” you tell him. “It was really nice.” 

“So, what happened with your children?”

“The royal advisor ruled in Junghyun’s stead since he was too young to be King when Jungkook died. The war ended after about five years, and then when Junghyun turned sixteen he was able to rule on his own. Sooyoung married a Prince in a neighboring Kingdom and ruled there as Queen, which is exactly what she always wanted. Minho and Wonshik married a Duchess and Viscountess and they actually became royal tutors. You know, like the ones you and Jungkook had growing up, who taught you sword fighting and horseback riding and all that?”

“Yeah, I remember.”

“I’m so happy knowing they all grew up well and started their own families. Jungkook and I have ten grandchildren.”

“Ten? Wow,” Taehyung laughs. You proudly nod your head and gaze out again at the water. “I’m glad you were able to learn all about them.”

“Yeah… I just wish I had been there to see it,” you whisper. “Wish we both had.” A moment later you snap your fingers when you remember something else. “Actually, we saw your grave, too. It’s in the knight’s crypt not far from our own.”

“Knight’s crypt? I shouldn’t have been buried there. I was stripped of my knighthood when we… well, you know,” he replies.

“I thought the same thing, but Jungkook told me he ordered you to be buried there anyway before the execution,” you respond.

Taehyung is completely dumbfounded by what you’re telling him. It doesn’t compute in his brain why Jungkook would allow him to be buried among the other knights. Before he can question you further, you turn towards him, crossing one leg under your knee so you can face him directly. 

“Look, I never got to explain everything to you about what happened leading up to Jungkook and I getting married, and I would like to, if you’ll let me.” 

Taehyung nods encouragingly for you to continue, gesturing with his hands that you have the floor to speak your mind. You thank him with a calm smile before sitting up straight so you can finally say what you need to after all this time.

“When you first told me you were leaving for the war, and said you loved me and wanted to marry me, I didn’t reply because, one, I was shocked, and two, because I didn’t feel the same way about you. Growing up, I only ever had feelings for Jungkook. My feelings for you were definitely strong, because you were my best friend, but they were platonic. I honestly put your proposal in the back of my mind because you were leaving, and I didn’t even know if you would survive the war or not. Then when Jungkook had to become King and you were no longer leaving, I didn’t know what that meant in regards to your proposal. You were about to become first knight and have a lot more responsibility, so I figured I would wait for you to talk to me about it and I would tell you my answer at that point.”

“But then Jungkook came to see me the next day and asked me to marry him, and that… that was my dream, Tae. I had loved him for almost my entire life. I wanted to speak to you before the wedding or even before arriving at the castle, but there was no time. I wanted to explain my feelings so you knew I wasn’t just ignoring your confession and doing whatever I wanted. But obviously, I never got the chance and you stopped speaking to me altogether.”

“Then, when the war broke out, and we grew close again, I did end up developing feelings for you. You were there for me when no one else was and it was easy to fall for you when we would spend day in and day out together. But, Taehyung, that was the first time I ever felt anything romantic for you. I know you think Jungkook stole me from you or forced me into becoming Queen, but that’s not the case. My heart has always belonged to Jungkook from the very beginning, and even when I did grow to love you, my feelings for him never waned.”

“All this to say, I am so grateful you had a spell cast on me so we all get a second chance at this, but the memories you returned to me are just that… memories. The life I’m currently living, the one where I was born to two pediatricians, went to ballet school, and became a cheerleader, that’s my life, not the one where I was a midwife and a Queen. Even if you and I had been these star-crossed lovers who never got the chance to be together, it doesn’t change the life I’ve lived so far. It doesn’t change that I fell in love with Jungkook. Not the Prince or King, but the computer science major who plays basketball and is competitive, funny, spontaneous, and kind. I love him for who he is today, memories or not.”

Taehyung takes several moments to absorb everything you’re telling him, and truthfully, he’s confused. His entire life he’s always believed you felt the same way for him, and when you told him you loved him in the gardens he thought you meant you always had.

“But, before you were executed, your last words… you told me you loved me, Y/N,” Taehyung argues.

Your eyes widen and a sympathetic frown appears on your face. 

“Taehyung, my last words...” You sigh. “I wasn’t saying that to you. I was saying it to Jungkook.”

The truth forces a sob out of Taehyung as tears escape from his waterline. He goes to wipe them away, but your finger is already grazing his cheek and doing so yourself.

“This was supposed to be our second chance, Y/N. For you and me to finally be together,” he cries.

“It still can be, Taehyung. Romantic love is not the only kind there is. You are and forever will be my best friend, and this can be our second chance to have the friendship we were always supposed to have. For all three of us to be together the way we once were,” you propose. 

“No, I could never forgive Jungkook for what he did,” he snaps.

“Forgive him?” You respond harshly. “Tae, we stabbed him in the fucking back. I vowed to love and cherish him and then I fucked his best friend and first knight. The one person he was supposed to trust more than anyone in the world. Then we forced a sword in his hand and made him kill the two people he loved the most. We knew when we started sleeping together what would happen if we got caught and we did it anyway. He didn’t kill us, Taehyung, we killed him.”

You exhale and tuck your hair behind your ear, chewing on your lip as you calm down and think of your next words.

“I love you, Taehyung. I will always love you, and I want you in my life. Jungkook wants you in his life,” you state. “But you have to be willing to move on from the past and accept what happened. Take accountability for the things we did and let it all go.”

Once you leave, Taehyung sits in silence as he stares out across the lake, sorrowful tears staining his skin. He knows you’re right about the past. It’s time to move on and start living the life he has now, but it isn’t easy when he’s spent so long just waiting for you to start your lives together. 

The sun disappears from the sky before Taehyung comes to the realization he can still have that, just as you said, because being together doesn’t have to mean romantically. And truth be told, he needs his friends more than anything else.

He finds you and Jungkook at a picnic table outside the library about a week later. 

Your arms are pushing at Jungkook’s shoulders to keep him from grabbing the candy bag between your legs. He’s sporting a mischievous toothy grin as he tries to maneuver around your hold to successfully steal your treat. You laugh loudly when Jungkook bites at the air in a feeble attempt to use his teeth as a method of thievery. It distracts you enough, though, and Jungkook uses the opportunity to snatch the bag from you before stealing a kiss, too.

“Nooo,” you whine as he laughs and eats your candy uninterrupted. 

Taehyung clears his throat, and you both stop in your tracks, the candy bag falling from Jungkook’s hands onto the table with a soft plop. 

“Hey,” Taehyung says through a chuckle. “I just wanted to say that I’m sorry for… well, there’s a lot, isn’t there?” He runs a hand through his hair. “I’m just sorry, and if you guys would be interested, maybe we can all hang out sometime.”

For the first time, he looks at Jungkook instead of you, and watches the way his expression morphs from surprise to delight. In an instant, Jungkook is standing and rounding the table to bring Taehyung into a crippling embrace. Taehyung chuckles awkwardly, hesitant to show any affection in return, but then Jungkook rests his chin on Taehyung’s shoulder, and the bittersweet nostalgia makes him wrap his arms around him. 

“I missed you,” Jungkook confesses. 

Taehyung sighs and tightens his grip.

“Missed you, too… your Highness.” 

“Don’t even joke, man.”

You squeal behind them, your feet tapping against the ground while you do a miniature victory dance from your seat. They both turn to look at you with completely endeared twin smiles, and you smile right back, head tilting to the right as your nose scrunches up.

The smell of wildflowers wafts through the air, despite there being none around, as if the universe is congratulating the three of you on finally making it back home to each other.

[bunnyykoo]

⋆｡°✩ TABLE 3 , MASTERLIST

⋆｡°✩ pairing: pre!military jk x waitress/secret fuckbuddy!oc

back to main masterlist <

-Summary: Before Jungkook enlists in the military, his life takes an unexpected turn when he visits a local restaurant with friends and meets a waitress who doesn’t recognize him. Surprised by your lack of star-struck reaction, Jungkook finds himself drawn to your down-to-earth nature, especially his previous struggles with the pressure of constant drama on social media regarding his relationships. Little do you know, Jungkook is about to leave for the military, which inevitably bring’s complications to your connection… do you find a way to fix it?

status: complete!

smut, angst, fluff, humour, celeb au, military!jk x fuckbuddy!oc, profanity.

taglist : @jenniebyrubies @dreamersparacosm @darklove2020 @rayyrayy10 @elinaki92 @alana4610 @bjoriis @kaitieskidmore97 @cuntessaiii

for taglist check pinned !

chapter 1 | chapter 2 | chapter 3 | chapter 4 | chapter 5 | chapter 6 | chapter 7 | chapter 8 | chapter 9 | chapter 10 | chapter 11 | chapter 12 | chapter 13 | chapter 14 | chapter 15 | chapter 16 | chapter 17 | chapter 18 | chapter 19 | chapter 20 | chapter 21 | chapter 22 | chapter 23 | chapter 24 | chapter 25 | chapter 26 | chapter 27 chapter 28 chapter 29

[bunnyykoo]

paint me naked | jjk

After the mysteriously hot guy in your university class starts taking an interest in you, should you really trust that he’s not like all the other college fuckboys? Especially when his best friend is the guy who broke your heart?

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader (past Taehyung)

Rating: Explicit

Genre/Trope: College AU, friends to lovers, fluff, smut, light angst

Word Count: 17,025

Content Warning: Self-esteem issues, alcohol, marijuana (of course, it's a jai fic), brief mention of drug dealing, it's very "hehe I have a crush" y'know, kinda YA of me jshdfks rip, vaginal fingering, vaginal sex, cunnilingus, can you tell I was a depressed poetry student in college??

A/N: This ended up being my most popular fic back in the day (lol like a year ago). I'm ngl, I don't think of it as highly as I do the other fics I've written, but this was I think the second fic I ever wrote?? Back in 2022. Crazy times. So y'know, growth and whateva. The funniest part is that probs 85% of this fic literally happened to me sjdfks. Except the "Jungkook" was only my friend and we just got stoned and vibed, and instead of painting a naked woman, one time during our studio sessions he painted an abstract rendition of my "soul" but it really just looked like a thumb I'm ngl. All my friends said he was in love with me cuz who paints portraits of someone's soul??

Soundtrack: Paint Me Naked - Ten

“Jungkook, I don’t think this is gonna work.”

“Let me try.” 

Your eyes strained to see the boy standing in front of you, but the room was pitch black. It was good, though. You’d purposefully blocked out as much light as you possibly could. It had been a surprisingly difficult feat, mostly because the two of you hadn’t thought this through very well. A rolled up towel was shoved against the bottom of the bedroom door to keep the light from the hallway out. Blackout curtains had already been drawn over the windows when you got there, so that made the window problem easier. Luckily, you’d remembered to unplug the digital clock sitting on the nightstand next to the bed, the last piece of light you could have some control over putting out. 

To make things weirder, you were in Jungkook’s parents’ room. 

“It’s the darkest room in the house!” he’d insisted and you hadn’t objected because, well, it seemed on brand for the way the entire night was going. 

With arms stretched out, your fingers pressed into something bumpy and hard. You could hear Jungkook’s breathing beside you and a light laugh alerted to you that he was much closer than you’d initially thought. After a quick prod, fingers gliding slightly upward, you realized you were grabbing his abdomen. The hard ripples you’d felt were his toned abs beneath his thin t-shirt. 

“Sorry,” you whispered, though there was no need to be quiet. Jungkook’s hands wrapped around yours and took the objects you had clutched between them: scissors and an undeveloped film roll. 

Drawing your hands back to your side, you waited in silence. The sound of metal scraping against plastic was the only sound in the room aside from the quiet rustle of wind blowing through leaves outside. You don’t think you’d ever felt silence before until that moment. It was electric, a pulsing sizzle that sparked up your fingertips and jolted into your heart as you stood beside Jungkook. The harmony your breathing had fallen into made the moment feel far more intimate than you’d expected. Why was standing in the dark with someone so intimate? 

“Fuck,” Jungkook muttered, and you heard what you imagined was him stabbing the scissors into the film. 

“Oh my god, please don’t cut yourself, okay? I don’t know where the hospital is from here.”

His only response was another quiet laugh and you knew from the sound that his nose was doing that scrunched up thing that it always did when he was making fun of you. After only a few months of knowing Jungkook he was certainly very comfortable teasing you. He was pretty comfortable with you in general, you were beginning to realize. 

And why were you here? Standing in the dark with a boy you barely knew from a shared university class, one who towered over you in height as well as being much larger than you physically. Trying to pop open film because Jungkook somehow thought you could actually develop this film without having access to a real darkroom. Sure, all throughout high school you’d taken film photography classes. You had the development process memorized by heart, from the length of time the film needed to soak to the different types of chemicals needed and what order you were supposed to submerge the prints in. You’d even emailed your old high school teacher to double check. 

But doing all of that in Jungkook’s parents’ house? You knew it wasn’t going to work, but the guy had insisted on you helping him. Was it concerning that he had all these chemicals stored in a plastic tub in his closet? Maybe. And was it the safest decision to use scissors to pop open the film instead of the proper tool (which Jungkook had forgotten to order off of Amazon in advance)? Absolutely not. 

On top of that, no one knew where you were; you’d simply told your roommates that you were going to hang out with the guy from your university poetry class. 

“Jungkook? The weird one with all the tattoos and piercings?” Your roommate, Amiriah, had asked.  

“He’s not that weird.” 

“Y/N, he wrote a poem about eating pussy for a class assignment. You said so yourself. Please tell me how that’s a normal thing to do.” 

“And didn’t he have to read it outloud to the class because he turned it in late?” Now it was time for Courtney to pipe in from her position lounging on the couch, an episode of Love Connection paused on the TV screen. 

“Okay, yes, he did do both those things. But I swear he’s actually really sweet. He’s just misunderstood.” 

Courtney had launched a pillow at you, though the object zoomed past your head and landed against the refrigerator, knocking down multiple of Amiriah’s magnets. Much to her dismay. 

“Maybe we should take a break.” 

Jungkook’s voice brought you back to reality, or at least some semblance of it. You couldn’t understand how someone could have such a soft voice. Listening to Jungkook speak was like floating on a cloud. His cadence was a gentle caress against your skin, a sound that could easily flutter your eyes and lull you to sleep. It didn’t matter what he was saying; everything sounded better coming from Jungkook’s mouth. 

You nodded, forgetting that he couldn’t see you. A few moments and a bit of shuffling later, the lights sprung on. Your eyes instantly shut and slowly pried open again from the blaring brightness. 

The poor film looked like it had been mauled by a bear, but it was still somehow intact. Jungkook slipped it into his pocket for safekeeping and turned to look at you. He had this thing about eye contact that really made you uncomfortable. When he met your gaze, he looked straight into your eyes, as if he was looking into you rather than at you. 

“Do you want a drink?” 

His question caught you off guard, but he was already picking up the towel from the floor to open the bedroom door. Without answering, you followed him through the house and into the kitchen. You stood in the doorway, hands clasped in front of you, eyes following his large frame navigating the kitchen cabinets. 

“All my parents have is rosé, is that okay?” 

He uncorked the chilled bottle and poured each of you a glass. Then he did something that your roommates could add to the list of weird things they’d developed for him. 

He sat on the floor. 

You stared at him with your lips slightly parted, unsure if you were supposed to follow him. There was an entire kitchen table with multiple chairs. Why was he sitting on the floor with his back leaned against the doorframe? Bottle of rosé sitting on the tile next to him. He looked up at you with impossibly soft doe eyes and you couldn’t just stand there with your glass. So, you slowly sank to the floor, your shoulders brushing against each other as you sat next to him. 

“Y’know, I just realized the film you have is color film.” You spoke slowly, hating that you were about to burst his bubble. “You wouldn’t be able to develop it at home, anyway. The chemicals you bought are for black and white film, and color film has to be developed using heat.” 

“Damn.” Jungkook tipped his head back to take a very deep drink of his wine. 

“We gave a valiant effort, though.” You flashed him a small smile and the grin you got in return made your face grow hot. 

Your roommates weren’t really wrong. Jungkook didn’t have the best reputation on your university campus. There were rumors that he sold drugs (marijuana and acid, specifically) and had gang affiliations. He was quiet, kept to himself, and didn’t seem to have a whole lot of friends aside from a few guys who were equally just as questionable. Yes, you knew he’d gotten arrested the day before spring break started for getting into a fight with a guy on campus, but based on what your friends had told you, it was definitely the other guy’s fault. 

You’d also heard he had great head game, but that was a whole other thing. You just had a really hard time believing all the bad things people said about him, even when he’d admitted to a lot of the rumors being true. 

“A gang tried to recruit me when I was fresh outta high school, but I like selling on my own. Can’t trust people for shit.” 

He’d said it so casually, and you wondered what was wrong with you for finding a conversation about dealing drugs attractive. 

The thing your roommates, and a lot of other people, didn’t understand was that there was more to Jungkook than whatever dumb rumors got spread around (real or not). He was an exceptional writer. His poetry weaved in elements of hip hop, almost sounding like eloquent and lyrical rap lyrics rather than your typical stuffy poem that other students in your class tried to pass off as profound. He didn’t shy away from writing about mental health, sex, relationships, and loss. Everything he put down was raw, and you liked that it made other people in the class uncomfortable. Jungkook wasn’t afraid to be himself. Wasn’t that what art was supposed to be all about? 

And he was artistic in every way. Not only did he write well, but he was obviously into photography, and he also dabbled in multimedia sculpture. But the most impressive was probably his paintings. You’d seen the work he’d posted on Instagram, and during one of your hangouts he’d told you about how he’d been commissioned by the city to work on a public mural with another local artist. 

Very few people knew these things about Jungkook. They saw the tattoos, the piercings, the occasional blunt wedged between his lips, and they painted him in a way that was so distorted it annoyed you. 

“Thanks for helping me, though. I appreciate you.” 

You bit your bottom lip into your mouth to suppress another smile, instead opting to simply nod your head and cover up any expression by taking a drink. 

At this point, the two of you had been hanging out at least once a week. Usually you just sat outside on his parents’ front porch and smoked and talked about life. His parents seemed to always be out of town, and although Jungkook lived across the hall from you in the university dorms, he stayed at his parents’ house a lot to take care of their dog. 

It felt weird, though, hanging out with Jungkook. It was like all your interactions could only happen during those moments; otherwise, he didn’t talk to you when you saw him around campus. Even in your advanced poetry class, he would lock eyes with you across the room, but he never said a word. 

And it didn’t help that he was best friends and roommates with Kim Taehyung, the campus casanova who’d fucked you like you were the only girl in the world for an entire semester until you saw him cuddled up at a party with some other girl who didn’t even go to your university. The next day he was standing at your dorm asking for his skateboard back, weaving some lie about how summer break was the time to be single and have fun, but that he would “never forget” the fun times you’d had. 

Then Taehyung got a girlfriend. 

So maybe you were a little bit bitter over how things ended with Taehyung (and maybe you’d spent the entire summer crying yourself to sleep at night and aimlessly scrolling through Tinder, looking for anyone who might replace him and finding nothing). But the worst part was knowing that Taehyung had probably talked to Jungkook about you, and you had no idea what he might have said. 

“Hopefully the film is still okay,” you said after a moment, trying to pull yourself out of the cyclical negative thoughts you were often consumed by. 

You finished your glass, shaking your head at Jungkook’s offer for more rosé. He nodded, pushing himself up to stand and reached out to take your empty glass. 

You watched him from the floor as he washed the glasses in the sink. Your eyes lingered just a bit too long on the way his forearm muscles flexed while he cleaned, a few veins popping out along the back of his hands and the inside of his arm. Tattoos and piercings hadn’t ever been your thing, not that you didn’t appreciate the allure of body modifications. You’d just found yourself going after boys who looked polished, good boys to take home to mom. Jungkook had been the one to initiate your friendship, asking to hang out while you worked on your poems or read the many poetry collections due for class. You’d be a liar if you said his sudden interest in you hadn’t sparked your own interest in him.

Just one glass of wine was enough to make you a bit lightheaded, and Jungkook was a heavy pourer, apparently. 

“You good?” 

You blinked and stared into Jungkook’s face. He was drying off his hands now, watching you with an amused look on his face. 

“Umm, yeah. Just a lightweight,” you said with a breathy laugh that sounded a little too forced for your liking. Jungkook didn’t seem to notice. 

“You wanna go to my studio with me? The one on campus?” 

You looked down at your phone, a few text messages popping up from your roommates demanding to know where you were. Swiping to clear the notifications, you looked up at Jungkook and gave him a small smile. 

“Sure.” 

-

“That thing so fire baby, no propane. Got good pussy, girl, can I be frank? To keep it 100, girl, I ain’t no saint.” 

Music came blaring out of the car’s speakers at an alarmingly high volume, causing you to exhale a startled shout. Jungkook quickly lunged to turn down the volume and accidentally honked the car’s horn when his shoulder leaned against the steering wheel. 

“Shit, sorry.” 

“Talk about fucking sensory overload, fuck,” you mumbled, heart still dazed in your chest. 

“It was actually nice outside for once. I was whippin’ with the windows down, so the music’s gotta be louder.” 

All he was getting from you was rolled eyes and the sound of your seatbelt clicking into place. 

Jungkook turned around to look over his shoulder as he backed out of the driveway. He grabbed onto the back of your seat to position himself; once again, you found yourself eyeing his arms, exploring the exposed tattoos. It kind of pissed you off how hot it was when guys drove backwards. What was evolutionarily advantageous about that attraction? 

“If you wanna change it, I got a couple CDs.” 

Jungkook motioned to the middle console. You flipped through them, finding the album that was currently playing. You’d recognize it anywhere; he was one of your favorite musicians. 

“Bryson Tiller?” You turned the CD case over in your hand, eyes scanning the tracklist on the back. “You listen to sex music while you drive? And off a CD instead of Bluetooth, no less?”

Jungkook barked out a laugh, all teeth and crinkled eyes that you could just barely make out as the streetlights streaked over his face. 

“Yeah, I guess I do. You got a problem with Bryson?” His fingers lazily tapped against the steering wheel to the relaxed beat of Don’t - which happened to be your favorite song on the album. “This car is twenty-one years old. You’re lucky we’re not sitting here listening to cassettes.” 

“Who doesn’t like Bryson Tiller? That’s the baby-making music of our generation,” you said with a laugh. “Honestly, I can’t believe this song came out in fuckin’ 2015. Why does that feel like such a long time ago?” 

Jungkook sat in the driver’s seat with his legs spread as much as possible; this position was what had made you realize just how thick and nice his thighs really were. Plus, he drove with one hand on top of the steering wheel, left elbow bent slightly. He usually let his right hand rest against his thigh, though sometimes he held onto the gear shift in between the two of you. 

There was rarely any traffic in your college town, and especially not at 10pm on a Tuesday night. The two of you fell silent, Bryson Tiller’s soulful lyrics swirling through the car in the absence of conversation. Jungkook was typically a man of few words. You’d grown accustomed to carrying the conversation. With most people, that would have bothered you, but with Jungkook it was different. You knew he was paying attention when you talked; you could see it in the way the corners of his mouth twitched when you said something dorky (which was, apparently, all the time). 

And when he did have something to say, it was always worth the wait. 

“You’ve got good taste,” Jungkook said after driving a few blocks. “Guess I should probably add him to my sex playlist.”

Before you had time to process his comment Jungkook was pulling into the east parking lot of your university, the part of campus that was off to the side and only held art-related facilities. 

He led you to an unmarked backdoor of the building closest to the parking lot. Pushing the door open, he held it for you with a sweep of his hand. 

“Ladies first, noona.” 

Scowling at the honorific, you still obliged, entering a long hallway. The walls were bare, just an eggshell white, a few black scuff marks here and there, as if someone had been carrying something large and struggled to fit it through the narrow space. Jungkook maneuvered past you to lead the way to another unmarked door. 

The studio was a lot larger than you expected. One side of the room had a large rack of painted canvases to dry. You turned to inspect the left side of the room, finding multiple easels with additional canvases of varying sizes, most blank or seemingly half-finished. A rather worn-looking couch was placed in the middle of the room. Beside it was a coffee table and a Bluetooth speaker. (So Jungkook did know about modern technology.) Paint-covered tarps protected much of the concrete floor, and there were paint buckets and other supplies scattered in every corner. The entire room was pure chaos, but it seemed like there was an organization to it that only Jungkook knew. 

“So… yeah. This is my studio.” Jungkook closed the door behind you and locked it. 

Your heart skipped a beat at his action, but you swallowed down the spike of fear that had threatened to bubble up inside of you. You’d spent plenty of alone time with Jungkook. There was nothing to worry about. 

“I had to practically beg the school to let me have my own space since I’m not an art major, but they eventually let up,” Jungkook continued with a shrug. 

You were impressed, honestly. Jungkook wasn’t known for being the most reliable student academically; it was surprising they’d given him such privileges. 

“I like it,” you said simply, eyes still roaming the space. You weren’t sure what you were supposed to do now. Studio art wasn’t really your thing, poetry was. 

Luckily, Jungkook had a knack for reading your mind. 

“You can sit on the couch if you want. I got a project due tomorrow morning, so I’m gonna work on it. But if you wanna paint, just lemme know.” He scrolled through his phone as he spoke, and eventually more R&B music started playing from the speaker. 

“Tomorrow morning? JK, it’s fucking 10:30.” 

You stared at him with your head tilted to the side in disbelief, but you were only met with another shrug and a grin. Living on the edge. King of Procrastination, Jeon Jungkook. You were already getting secondhand stress. 

With a quiet hum to himself as the music took over, it was clear to you that Jungkook had switched to his serious side. He began prepping one of his easels with various paint brushes and paints. Dragging a heavy-looking but small filing cabinet next to the easel, he used the surface to store his supplies while he worked. 

You flopped onto the couch, adjusting so you could have a clear view of Jungkook. He looked cute in his jeans and black hoodie, a blunt pencil tucked behind his ear. His lips pouted slightly as he planned what he was going to do with his painting. Occasionally the pencil would be plucked from his ear and a few sketches appeared on the canvas, too light for you to see what they were from your position on the couch. 

The vibration of your phone tore your eyes away from Jungkook’s figure. It was no surprise that your roommate group text was blowing up. 

Courtnayyy 😘 [10:00] BITCH WHERE ARE YOU A Mili Amiriah 👑 [10:01] pls tell me the weirdo didn’t murder u Courtnayyy 😘 [10:04] If he did can I have your Mac Miller poster?  A Mili Amiriah 👑 [10:15] court how tf would she approve of that if she’s dead? she ain’t gonna see this shit Courtnayyy 😘 [10:18] Ouija board A Mili Amiriah 👑 [10:25] stfu 🔫 A Mili Amiriah 👑 [10:25] Y/N you better answer ur fucking phone right now A Mili Amiriah 👑 [10:40] hellooooooooooooooooooo

You let out a sigh loud enough for Jungkook to look over at you, eyebrows furrowed. 

“My roommates think you killed me.”

Jungkook grinned and turned back to his easel with a shake of his head. You’d expected him to say something, but then the reminder that Jungkook was… unconventional slithered into your mind. 

[10:45] I’m alive. Can you pls stop blowing up my phone now? 💀 Courtnayyy 😘 [10:46] FUCKING FINALLY  A Mili Amiriah 👑 [10:47] what are you doing?? [10:50] We’re just hanging out at his studio. I’ll probably leave soon

You tossed your phone next to you on the couch and lifted your arms into the air to stretch. It was rather warm in the studio and the smooth music of whatever playlist Jungkook had on was making you feel sleepy. What kind of lame college student were you? 

“I was serious about what I said.” Jungkook didn’t look at you while he painted, too focused on mixing the right shade of brown. 

“About what?”

“You can paint if you want. All the paint and brushes are in the cabinet.” 

You chewed on your bottom lip, eyes flitting from the filing cabinet next to Jungkook to the easel off to the side with a blank canvas. What if whatever you painted looked like shit? You had no idea what you were doing. 

But when did you ever get to paint in your adult life?

Pushing yourself off the couch you approached Jungkook to start rummaging in the drawers for supplies. You were stopped in your tracks, however, the moment your eyes landed on his painting. Considering that much time hadn’t passed, Jungkook was far along in his work. You came face to face with a woman, or at least the naked body of a woman. She was painted in soft earthy tones, curves accentuated by what looked like a gold silk ribbon that wrapped around her. The painting was certainly abstract because she was missing a head and her limbs weren’t finished, but just having her strong torso and thighs, and a long regal neck, somehow made her feel complete. 

“That’s beautiful, JK. She looks so realistic… How can you do all those little details so quickly?” You spoke quietly, desperately wishing you could touch the canvas. 

“Painting nudity is easy.” Another classic Jungkook shrug. “That’s why it’s so overdone. There’s nothing more beautiful than humans in their purest state, right? We’re the original art.” 

You would have never considered nudity to be pure, but you liked Jungkook’s analysis. Society saw nudity as all about sex. Despite his depiction of breasts and genitalia, Jungkook’s painting was a reflection and appreciation of a body. 

You wondered if it was anyone’s body in particular. 

The thought soured your mood a bit, and you quickly returned your focus to finding the supplies you needed. Satisfied, you took up the easel beside Jungkook. What the fuck were you going to paint? Especially now that you had this beautiful work blooming next to you. 

“Don’t think about it so much. Just go for it.” 

There was Jungkook reading your mind again. 

You weren’t sure how much time passed with the two of you working silently. At first you’d considered doing something abstract, but eventually you felt compelled to do something a bit more realistic. You’d retrieved your phone (ignoring your roommates’ texts again) to pull up a photo for reference as you painted. 

After a while Jungkook lifted his finished painting and carried it to the rack to dry. By the time he had completed his painting, you were putting your final touches on yours - one that was far more simplistic. You found it entertaining, though. 

“Who is that?” 

You’d been so absorbed in getting those final details perfected that you hadn’t noticed Jungkook standing right behind you. You jumped slightly and that elicited a chuckle from the boy. 

“It’s a portrait of Bad Bunny.” Your greatest celebrity crush. 

“He’s cute. You did a good job considering you looked so scared to start.” His comment left your cheeks burning. You’d hoped it hadn’t been so obvious, but Jungkook was too observant for his own good (and for yours, too). “Maybe I should hire you as my assistant.”

“Thanks. It’s not as good as yours, though.” 

Jungkook waved you off and the action made him realize he had a good amount of paint on his hands. Rather than find a towel, he simply rubbed his hands against his thighs. You watched him, eyes lingering on the way his thighs stretched the tight material of his jeans. Looking up to return to his face you were met with a smirk. You were doing a real shitty job at being subtle, apparently. 

You chose not to say anything and focused your attention on finishing your painting, not wanting Jungkook to be waiting for you longer than he needed to. He sat down on the couch, now distracted by his phone. 

“So,” you spoke as you lifted up your finished painting, following Jungkook’s instructions to put it on the drying rack. “What was the inspiration for your painting?” 

Was it a bold question? You were trying to play it off like you weren’t going to cling to whatever his answer was. 

Jungkook patted the space next to him to encourage you to sit down. Once you were sitting next to him, your body turned slightly to face him, Jungkook leaned forward. His face was mere inches from yours and you could feel his breath tickle your cheek. He watched you with those brown doe eyes, such an innocent feature on an otherwise devious-looking face. The smirk that formed on his lips strongly contrasted the sweetness of his eyes. 

Jungkook’s tongue poked out to play with his lip ring before he answered your question. It was impossible to look away from his lips, and you thought you felt your heart stop. 

“The deadline.” 

The smirk grew deeper as he pulled away, running a hand through his hair. You were more than disappointed, feeling yourself deflate and finally realizing you’d been holding your breath. Your shoulders slumped slightly, but you managed to mask the reason for your disappointment by pretending you were disappointed in him. 

“Boy, you need to work on your assignments earlier so you can come up with something good,” you huffed, crossing your arms against your chest. 

“Was it not good?” He grinned, a cocky twinkle in his eyes, no longer doe-shaped but narrowed in mirth. “Come on, let me drop you off. It’s almost 2.” 

“Fuck, I have an 8am.” 

With a quick check on your phone you saw that it was indeed almost 2am. How had you spent almost four hours in the studio without realizing it? Nevermind the fact that you’d spent another three or four hanging out with Jungkook before you’d even gotten to the studio. 

“I’d skip if I was you.” 

Jungkook led you through the art building and to his car, making sure that the music didn’t startle you half to death when he started the car this time. 

“Unlike you, I’m a good student, thanks.” 

It wasn’t a terrible dig because you knew Jungkook enough to know he didn’t give a shit. All he’d do was give you a small smile and melt your heart with the confusion of how it was possible for someone to look both so soft and so dangerous. 

Your dorm was on the other side of campus, so the drive over was quick. But rather than drop you off at the sidewalk, Jungkook pulled into the parking lot, much to your surprise. 

“I thought you were staying over at your parents’?” 

Jungkook kept the car running, but he unbuckled his seatbelt and leaned back in his chair.

“Me and Tae are gonna go smoke. I got this new strain of indica we wanna try.”

He didn’t look at you when he spoke, instead facing forward to peer out the window. Once he brought up weed, you realized you could smell the remnants of weed smoke in Jungkook’s car, partially masked by air freshener. 

At the mention of Jungkook’s roommate you felt your stomach drop. The feeling was only intensified when you followed Jungkook’s gaze to see a figure with long legs and broad shoulders make their way down the sidewalk, heading right in your direction. You felt ice shoot through your veins and panic settle into your chest. 

“Oh,” you squeaked out. You needed to escape, but you couldn’t force your hands to unbuckle yourself and open the door. 

“Do you wanna come with us?” Jungkook took your lack of movement as a desire to get high. 

You looked at Jungkook with an open mouth, but nothing came out. And even if you could speak, Taehyung was already flinging the car door open. 

“Oh, shit, Y/N. I didn’t even see you there.” Taehyung leaned against the car door, eyes sweeping over your small figure as you attempted to look as relaxed as possible. 

Did he lick his lips or were you just imagining that? 

“Want me to sit in the back?” 

Taehyung leaned down so he could poke his head into the car and talk to Jungkook right over you. The position gave you a perfect view of his neck and his collarbones peeking out from beneath the silk button-up shirt he was wearing, the first few buttons undone as usual. His cologne smelled like cedar and you could faintly smell something fruity, likely the strawberry-flavored vape he smoked. 

All of that was enough to send you mentally screaming into the void. 

“ThanksJungkookIgottago,” you sputtered, doing your best not to touch Taehyung as you moved around him to get out.

“Y/N!” 

You ignored Jungkook’s call, not daring to look back. Despite your exhaustion you took the stairs two at a time until you made it to your dorm, nearly dropping your keys as you unlocked the door. The kitchen and living room were dark, so you knew your roommates were asleep - or at least in their own rooms. You didn’t even bother to do your nighttime routine, opting to strip down to your underwear and collapse into your bed face-first. 

Darkness and silence brought you no solitude; quite honestly, they had the opposite effect. All you had in your head was Taehyung’s face… in your ears, his voice… in your nostrils, his smell. 

Groaning, you flipped onto your back and grabbed your phone to put on your favorite thunderstorm white noise playlist. In the middle of picking the perfect sound, your phone buzzed with a text. 

Jungkook (Poetry) [2:15] you good?

You bit your lip, not wanting to leave him hanging so late, but also knowing if you went down this rabbithole you’d never fall asleep. 

[2:16] I’m fine

Your phone vibrated almost immediately, but you forced yourself to put it away. Whatever Jungkook had to say could wait until the morning. Or until never, because right now you never wanted to speak to another human ever again.

-

Jungkook (Poetry) [2:16] you don’t have to lie to me Jungkook (Poetry) [3:02] lying destroys our intrinsic value as human beings by corrupting our ability to make rational choices and have free will Jungkook (Poetry) [3:03] immanuel kant said that

You didn’t realize you’d be hit with a philosophical lecture the moment you woke up, but then you remembered that Jungkook had gone smoking with Taehyung. The two of them got all philosophical when they were high, as if they really could achieve some kind of superior knowledge. 

They were idiots. 

“Oh my god, when the fuck did you get home last night?” 

Anyone speaking that loud and harshly so early in the morning was an assailant. You glared at Courtney, brushing past her to get to the bathroom. You shouldn’t have been surprised that the girl stayed outside the bathroom door as she waited for you to finish. 

“It was definitely after 1am ‘cause that’s when we went to bed,” she kept on talking even when you turned the shower on. “What could you guys have possibly been doing that whole time? Did you hook up?” 

“No.”

“What?” Courtney strained to hear you over the sound of the high-pressure water. 

“I said, no!” 

It was ridiculous that you were standing there, rubbing your naked body down with lavender exfoliating soap, while you discussed your alleged hook up with a guy you barely knew. 

You thanked the Lord Almighty that your schedule didn’t line up with your roommates on Wednesdays, or else you would have had to suffer Courtney and Amiriah’s interrogations the whole day. 

Instead you sleepily dragged yourself through two morning classes and a work shift at the university library before you’d eventually have to face Jungkook head-on. 

-

Your Advanced Poetry class was small enough that all the students could sit around a large table together. The small, intimate class size made it easier for collaboration and made workshops feel a bit less ruthless. You’d gotten to the point that you could read anonymous poems from each of your classmates and know exactly who wrote what. You were like a little family who met every Wednesday evening for two hours and poured your thoughts, dreams, fears, and goals into each other with every written piece. This class was going to be what broke your heart when the semester was over; you could already feel yourself missing it. 

“Alright, y’all, we’re going to workshop the imitation poems from the exercise last week.”

You felt your heart drop to the pit of your stomach. Whatever else Professor Mendez was saying didn’t compute; she sounded like she was speaking underwater and all you could do was shift your eyes to look at Jungkook across the table from you. You hadn’t expected him to be already looking at you nor for him to hold your gaze until you quickly looked away. 

The poem you’d written for the exercise was about Taehyung. 

You’d thought only your professor was ever going to see it. And now she was calling on you to read yours aloud first. No one else would know who it was about, but you knew Jungkook would know. 

“Y/N?” 

Professor Mendez looked at you, her star pupil, with an encouraging smile. You swallowed, avoiding Jungkook’s gaze though you felt him staring. If you kept the piece of paper on the table in front of you, you wouldn’t risk showing everyone that your hands were slightly trembling. And then you opened your mouth. 

I SAW YOU ONCE IN A FEVER DREAM  (After Kaveh Akbar) I saw you once in a fever dream shirtless  swaddling me in a hammock hanging from cedar trees   When you smoke it gets stuck   in your hair Save it for later The smell of marijuana   and strawberry vapes     lingered in my clothes     In another fever   dream you were my mother The doctor asked if I am  allergic to any medications and I should   have said yes but it is only you   I have felt love flow through me I have never felt   it given My friend once told me  there is only so much you can do   At what point am I the problem   Sometimes I stare at the wall and peel the nails  off of my fingers for every time you broke me  Somehow it feels better this way  

It was depressing, pathetic even. Sure, you’d imitated Kaveh Akbar’s unique writing style to a T, but now you looked stupid for writing about a man you’d never even dated, who had unofficially “dumped” you last spring semester. Jungkook had to know. Unless he was completely oblivious (which was honestly likely, when you really thought about it). And maybe you were being too cocky, assuming some guy who you meant nothing to would care or even pay attention to the fact that his friend had fucked you into a broken heart. 

You sat with tight lips as the class discussed your poem, a few people put off by your use of space on the page, others praising your unique way of formatting the stanzas. Jungkook never spoke, but he never did until the end of class when Professor Mendez called him out for being silent. Then he would provide feedback for whoever had gone before him, his opinion usually directly contradicting whatever your professor said. She knew he wasn’t being defiant, and she welcomed his creative challenge of the status quo. But sometimes he was a bit much. 

“Well, Mr. Jungkook. Let’s hear yours.” 

You could feel the entire room both tense and lean forward, as if scared but also unimaginably eager for whatever it was they were about to receive. 

“I didn’t finish, but I can read what I have. It’s a prose poem.” 

UNTITLED I met her in the evaporated residue of a midnight bong rip. Among glimmers of artificially-simulated worlds, of over-saturated hues. Hurried hues of a purple-pink bruise, bloom, slippery between thighs. Tongue flicks. Slide. These things only happen behind closed doors. An eternity of almosts, she likes to wear my hand as a choker. Drag me whole into desire, into pink folds and broken promises. Drip slick slow stroke glide and move inside, eat feast thrive. Beat it up every time. Pulsate. Pulsate. Own it. My hands on your hips. Blindfold over your eyes. Selfish fuck. I am a decomposing mind; her body whispers otherwise. 

Jungkook could have written a poem about dog shit and the way he recited it would have been breathtaking. It didn’t matter that his lines were verging on pornographic for an academic setting; simply the way the alliteration flowed like honey from his mouth was enough to send shivers down anyone’s spine. The words came out like a gentle lullaby of filth, a smooth mantra, a promise of sin. It was no wonder the classroom fell silent. Even Professor Mendez stared at Jungkook with an unreadable expression on her face. 

“Thank you, Jungkook,” she said after a moment. 

He nodded politely and slouched into his seat again. 

Professor Mendez looked around the room for the first volunteer to take a stab at critiquing Jungkook’s poem. Only a brave soul could manage, and you were determined to keep your mouth shut. You could already visualize the way your classmates were going to gossip about this once class was over. You wondered how long it would take for Courtney and Amiriah to find out. 

“Who would like to go first?” 

It appeared the class had very few critiques, likely because no one wanted to dive too deeply into the abstract and overtly-sexual writing that had been. 

Professor Mendez went on a mini rant about the importance of knowing how to keep the flow of a prose poem that somehow derailed into a story about her new puppy. Perhaps someone had gotten her going to kill the last few minutes of class until it was 8pm and she was forced to let the group of you go into the night. 

You always managed to be the last person leaving the classroom every Wednesday night. Usually it was due to your prolonged conversations with Professor Mendez, the two of you gushing over a new poetry collection or the latest episode of a TV show. Jungkook, on the other hand, was typically the first to leave. Likely to go find his little crew of delinquents to do drugs with or whatever else they got themselves into. 

Except apparently not today. 

As you waved a goodbye to Professor Mendez, you headed down the empty hallway fully aware of the second pair of shoes echoing in the silence along with yours. Your insides were still scrambled from the series of exceptionally unfortunate events that had involved Kim Taehyung in the past twenty-four hours. You had no desire to entertain Jungkook, especially not after him staring you down all of class. And reading that fucking poem. 

“Are you really gonna ignore me?” 

You squeezed the straps of your backpack and stopped in front of the door to leave the academic building. If you acted bothered it would make you more suspicious. And it would let Kim Taehyung continue to rule your mind. You were better than this… 

So you turned around to face the doe-eyed boy and tried not to imagine his hand squeezing your throat. 

“I’m not ignoring you.” You cocked your head to one side in feigned confusion. Jungkook met your look with a small pout. 

“I’m sorry if I did something to upset you yesterday.” 

So, he didn’t know. Either that, or he was lying. But didn’t Immanuel Kant say lying is bad? You did everything in your power not to scowl to yourself. 

“I’m fine, Jungkook. I swear.” You let out an irritated sigh, casting a glance behind your shoulder as you heard thunder ripple through the air outside. You’d obviously forgotten to check the weather that morning, looking down at your t-shirt and shorts. 

“Okay…” He eyed you skeptically, but he didn’t want to push you further and threaten pushing you away completely. “Can I walk with you?” 

“Of course.” He lived literally across the hall from you. You could open your door and be face-to-face with his. 

“Okay… Can I give you a hug?” 

You rolled your eyes so far and deep inside your skull it was a surprise they didn’t detach and disappear somewhere. It wasn’t fair that you were taking out your frustrations on Jungkook simply because your ego was hurt. That self-awareness was what made you nod your head with your arms outstretched. 

Jungkook enveloped you in his large frame, the side of your face pressed against his chest. One of his arms wrapped around your waist, and he held the back of your head in his free hand. There was something about Jungkook’s closeness that caught you off guard. Perhaps it was because this was the first time you’d ever hugged each other; you’d never been this physical with each other at all, actually. You weren’t much of the hugging type, anyway. 

Jungkook’s warmth made you settle into his embrace for much longer than you’d expected. He felt soft, safe. Even the chemical smell of paint that had seeped into his hoodie was welcoming. Despite the rumbling of a heavy thunderstorm outside, you could still hear his heart beat beneath you. Something about that realization made you pull away from him suddenly. It was just too… close. 

He stared at you with a wrinkled brow and the pout was slowly coming back, but he stayed silent. You couldn’t meet his eyes. 

“Ready?”

 With raised shoulders you braced yourself for the downpour. 

By the time the two of you had sprinted across the courtyard, you were completely soaked. You felt your earlier frustrations melt with the water droplets gliding down your arms as you leaned against Jungkook’s equally-soaked body. He was nearly doubled over in laughter, shoulder pressed against the wall next to the front door of his dorm room. 

“You look like a wet cat,” he teased. 

“Oh yeah? Well you look like a wet dog.” Your poor hair was going to get embarrassingly frizzy if you didn’t take care of it immediately. 

Jungkook flashed you an evil grin and violently shook his head, sending water spraying all over. 

“Jungkook, stop!” you hollered, giving him a shove. “I feel so gross already.” 

You twisted around to fish out your dorm key from your backpack, but your fingers scraped the bottom of the pocket. No key. 

“Fuck,” you cursed, setting your backpack on the ground to search through more pockets. Giving up on that possibility, you checked the pockets of your shorts. Nothing. 

Unlocking your phone, your thumb hovered over your roommate group text, unsure if you should interrupt Amiriah and Courtney. It was a little after 8pm… Both of your roommates would be in their weekly sorority meeting that usually lasted at least an hour, if not two. 

“What’s wrong?” 

“I… locked myself out.” What a fucking rookie mistake. What was this, freshman year? “I’m pretty sure I left my keys on the kitchen table.” 

Now you were stranded in your hallway, cold and soaking wet. You could go downstairs to ask your RA to let you in, but she was a bitch. 

“You’re a mess. Come on, I’ve got clothes for you.” 

He didn’t give you the opportunity to protest; instead, he stepped inside his dorm without even so much as a look over his shoulder at you. 

Apparently your desire to be warm and dry was stronger than your fear of entering the Dorm Room from Hell. You’d never been in Jungkook’s dorm before, mostly because you didn’t want to run into Taehyung. 

The layout was the same as yours: full kitchen with adjacent living room, long hall with individual bedrooms that ended with a bathroom. The decorations practically screamed “guys who smoke weed” considering the giant marijuana leaf tapestry hanging in the living room and the multicolored string lights that hung on the ceiling casting a psychedelic glow throughout the dorm. An incense that smelled interestingly like the ocean was burning on the coffee table. 

You were pretty sure burning incense wasn’t allowed on university property. Then again, neither was smoking weed in the parking lot, but Jungkook and his roommates did whatever they wanted. 

“Are you just gonna stand there or…?” 

Jungkook led the way down the hall, you trailing a bit behind him as you continued being nosy. As you passed the first bedroom, the door suddenly swung open, causing you to yelp when you were face-to-face with a rather grumpy looking man with shockingly green hair. The bleary look of his eyes told you he’d been asleep. 

“Why the fuck are you wet?” 

You did a double take, shocked at the roughness of the question from a stranger. Before you could answer, Jungkook was pulling you forward by the wrist. 

“Hyung, I went to the grocery store today. There’s tangerines on the counter.” 

The green-haired roommate grumbled a thank you and shot straight to the kitchen. 

“Just ignore Yoongi,” Jungkook whispered, stopping in front of his bedroom. “He’s a fifth-year senior and probably ready to burn the entire university down.” 

Jungkook’s bedroom was the exact opposite of what you’d expected. After seeing the chaos of his art studio, you’d thought his bedroom would be much of the same. Instead you were met with a simple, organized room. No clutter, no mess. Everything had its place, not an art supply in sight. Peaking over his shoulder, you saw even his dresser drawers were organized, each article of clothing neatly folded. That was likely why Jungkook was able to quickly pick out a t-shirt and a pair of basketball shorts to hand you. 

“Oh, and this,” he tossed you a towel, as well. “You can use the bathroom. I’ll be in here.” 

“Thank you,” you said with an appreciative nod. 

The skin on your fingers had wrinkled up from the rain and you pressed them into the towel to find some relief. Who knew the feeling of wearing dry clothes would be so sweet? You took your time in the bathroom, rubbing down every inch of your body. Unfortunately, even your underwear and bra were soaked. If you put on dry clothes over them, the water would surely bleed into the fabric. So you opted for going commando, to your dismay. At least Jungkook’s t-shirt was baggy enough that your chest wasn’t on full display, and it wasn’t like anyone would know you weren’t wearing underwear. 

You caught a look at yourself in the mirror and laughed at how ridiculous you looked. It was like you’d come out of a really bad hip-hop music video from the early 2000s, literally drowning in baggy clothes. 

“Hey Jungkook… Do you have something I could put my clothes in?” You stood in the hallway in front of Jungkook’s bedroom, wet clothes in your hands. The door was closed and you were afraid of opening it if he was still changing. 

“You look cute.” 

You instinctively squeezed your bundle of clothes, turning your head to the side at the sound of that Mother. Fucking. Annoying. Ass. Voice. 

Taehyung raised an eyebrow at you, probably utterly confused as to why you looked the way you did, standing there in his dorm. You were determined to give him absolutely nothing. 

“So, you and Jungkook, huh?” 

A small smirk twisted at the corners of his mouth. By the way he was standing with his hands in the pockets of his jeans, it was clear that he wasn’t planning on walking away. 

“We just got back from class,” you said matter-of-factly. 

You focused on a spot on the wall to the right of his head when you spoke; it made it easier to look at him without having to stare into his eyes. Even though you found absolutely nothing about your statement funny, Taehyung started laughing. It was a low chuckle that brought that stupid smirk out even more. 

“Were you coming back from class at 2 o’clock this morning, too?” 

His eyes glinted with something that made a shiver shoot down the length of your spine. 

Luckily, Jungkook’s abrupt presence swinging the bedroom door open gave you and Taehyung someone else to focus on, and you could safely escape the fact that you didn’t have a witty comeback to shove in Taehyung’s face for teasing you about Jungkook. There was nothing there with Jungkook.  

He just gave nice hugs. And you respected his creative mind. And he had great taste in music. And you felt a little bit bad for him because people didn’t seem to give him the chances he deserved. And, wow, he was standing in the doorway of his bedroom wearing form-fitting gray sweatpants that sat low on his hips and you could tell that they sat low because he was shirtless. And your eyes were skipping down the path that his happy trail was leading from his belly button down to the strings of his sweatpants that hung down just on top of where you could make out a slight bulge in the fabric. 

“Y/N?” 

You quickly tore your eyes from Jungkook’s crotch to look at his face, not missing the way Taehyung’s smirk was growing even wider. You opened your mouth, then looked down at your clothes, then back at Jungkook. 

“She wants something to put her clothes in,” Taehyung admitted once it was clear you weren’t going to cooperate. “I’m going over to Natalie’s. Oh, and I dipped into your Trojan stash. Yoongi hyung didn’t have any and you have too many.” 

He flashed Jungkook a grin and pushed himself from his leaning position on the wall. 

“Have fun,” he offered over his shoulder as he walked away, heading to go fuck his girlfriend’s brains out. 

You were going to throw up. 

“What a fucking asshole,” you breathed through gritted teeth. 

Rather than be surprised at your cursing, Jungkook gave you a sympathetic look as he took your wet clothes from you to put in a small duffle bag. 

“I’m sorry…” he said after a moment, gesturing for you to step into his bedroom. He closed the door behind you and hopped onto his bed. Just as he’d done in the studio, he patted the space next to him to get you to sit with him. 

“C’mere.” 

“Jungkook, I don’t wanna bother you anymore. You’ve had to deal with me a lot the past 24 hours.” 

“Do I look bothered?”

You gave the boy a tight shake of your head and clambered onto the bed beside him, careful to sit hunched over a bit so your chest wouldn’t be too obvious. For once, he no longer smelled like paint. Instead your senses were overwhelmed by the strong scent of his laundry detergent, something akin to the ocean breeze of the incense the roommates were burning in the living room. He leaned his back against the headboard, but he turned at an angle to look at you from the side. 

“He told me about you two…” 

You felt your body stiffen at his confession and Jungkook rushed to finish his thought. 

“Not the details or anything. But just that you were hooking up.” 

Great. This was perfect. Leave it to Taehyung to treat you like a secret yet blabber to his friends. You hadn’t even told any of your friends about Taehyung. To this day, Courtney and Amiriah had no idea. And could you even trust Jungkook when he said the details were spared? Didn’t boys love to talk about their sexual conquests? 

“I’m sorry he’s such a fuckboy.” 

“Oh, like you aren’t, too?” 

“What?!” 

Jungkook stared at you incredulously, shocked by your sudden aggression. But you couldn’t stop yourself. The anger you’d let fester in you from countless boys quite literally fucking you over was all spilling over the top. It was just unfortunate that Jungkook was there to bear the weight rather than Taehyung; but you didn’t think he was wholly innocent either. College boys were entitled and selfish. Even though Jungkook had never done anything to you, you’d seen how some girls followed after him like he was some kind of mystery meant to be solved. He never explicitly talked about his love life with you, but you only took that as a bad sign. 

“Oh don’t act brand new, Jungkook. You literally make everything about sex. Literally all your poems are about eating pussy. You made that fucking painting of a naked women. And what the fuck is that?” 

Your arm shot out to point at a painting hanging on his wall that looked vaguely like an abstract rendition of a vulva. It somehow felt like the icing on the fucked up cake. 

“It’s called artistic appreciation!”

“You’re just as gross as Taehyung and all the other guys who just use women for their bodies and don’t give a fuck about how we feel or-”  

“Stop it.” Jungkook’s voice hit you like ice. You dropped your arm down and whipped your head back around to look at him, lips falling open at the harshness of his tone. 

“Don’t compare me to Tae. You don’t know what I’m like. You barely know me at all.” 

“That’s not-” 

“I said stop, okay?” he interjected again and the glare he sent you was enough to shut you up for good. Being scolded wasn’t exactly high on your list of favorite activities, especially not from someone you considered to be a friend. Your cheeks felt like they were on fire and you struggled to swallow down your words, shame creeping up your face in waves.

“I’ve spent the last four months in that poetry class watching you write about feeling broken and alone and misunderstood. And you know what I do? I invite you over to do homework ‘cause I know none of your other friends are studying English. And I asked you to go to Morgan Parker’s book reading with me ‘cause I knew you didn’t have anyone else to go with. And I invited you to my studio ‘cause you said you wish you were good at art and I wanted you to see that you could be good if you tried.” 

At this point his cheeks had turned bright pink and his hands were bunched up into fists in his lap. As much as you wanted to, you couldn’t look away from the fire in his eyes. 

“I’m not trying to make you feel like you owe me anything or to get some kind of recognition, okay? But just don’t fucking compare me to Tae when all I’ve ever tried to do is make you feel less alone. I like you, a lot. And I don’t even care that you’re not into me and you’re still caught up on him. I genuinely just want you to be happy.” 

With his monologue over, Jungkook turned his head to stare down at his hands, leaving you to peer at his profile with your mouth hanging open. 

It was the most you’d heard Jungkook speak, ever. It was also the most expressive you’ve ever seen him. Despite his passion for art, Jungkook was a very level person; he was collected even in the most stressful situations. To see him visibly shaking as he raised his voice was upsetting. 

“Jungkook…” You reached out to touch his arm and your heart broke into a million pieces when he flinched. 

“It’s whatever.” 

But it wasn’t. 

You felt like shrinking into the smallest version of yourself and disappearing. You’d spent so much time aching over the wounds Taehyung had left that you hadn’t considered what you might be missing out on, or how you might have been hurting someone else. Your head was lost in the dark cloud hanging over you; your heart couldn’t see anything in front of you. Blinded by your own pain, healing long overdue. 

You were so fucking stupid. 

“JK…” you started again. Lifting your hand, you brought your fingers to his chin and encouraged him to turn his head to look at you. “I’m so sorry. I really am. I just… It hurts? I don’t know what to do with the hurt.” 

From Taehyung and every other reckless boy. 

You let go of his face and waited, holding your breath until your lungs burned. Much to your disappointment, Jungkook maintained that cold stare, his eyes boring into yours so deeply that you felt like he was seeing something inside of you that even you didn’t know. You were afraid to look at him, shame making it difficult to hold your head up.  

“Give it to me.” 

“What?” It was your turn to cast your eyebrows down in confusion. 

“Give me the hurt. You don’t have to hold onto it anymore. I can take it.” His large hand enveloped your own, thumb running figure 8s into your skin.

You tried to speak, but you couldn’t choke out even a whisper as his words repeated in your head. Give me the hurt. Your hands shivered beneath his and you looked away quickly, feeling that horrid prickling in the corner of your eyes. You were not going to lose it just because you were touch-starved and never once in your life had someone so soundly declared their desire to take on whatever pain it was that you were feeling. You liked to keep your pain a secret, only letting out emotions through your poetry. And even then, you wanted to separate yourself from it. Writing was like putting down your emotion, letting it exist outside of you, so you could live free from it. But that didn’t always happen the way you wanted it to. 

You blinked quickly, losing focus on Jungkook’s face until you felt something hot slip down your cheek and you realized you were crying. 

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, embarrassment flooding your chest as you tried not to hiccup. What kind of emotional disaster were you? As Courtney would say, it wasn’t very girlboss of you. 

“I can take it.” 

This time the embers had gone out in his eyes. Instead, his irises were pleading with you. You tried to cover your face with your hands, but Jungkook held them down. He brushed your cheeks dry with his thumb, cradling your chin in his palm. 

“You deserve better, okay?” 

It was difficult to believe, but the soft gaze Jungkook held made you want to think maybe he was right. But how could it be possible for someone to want to carry your burden for you? He had no reason to. 

“I’m good now,” you said after a moment, the tears dried and your breathing returning to normal. You wanted to give him an out, let him have the opportunity to feel like he’d done his part in case he didn’t really mean what he said. You refused to let yourself fall for anymore bullshit. 

“Are you sure?” 

“Yeah, I’m fine.” 

“You don’t have to lie to me…” 

There was that familiar line. You felt your eyes instinctually roll and you couldn’t stop the next snarky comment from slipping past your lips, using biting humor as a defense mechanism to cope. 

“Okay, Immanuel Kant.” 

Jungkook snorted, matching your eye roll, but he gave you a smile that reached his eyes. A classic Jungkook grin that had you giving a small smile in return and making your stomach flip like a fucking gymnast. It made you slowly float back down to reality and you remembered you were sitting in a shirtless Jungkook’s bed, his body leaned forward out of concern for you, his face mere inches from yours. Hand still cradling your chin. 

“Jungkook…” 

Your voice got caught in your throat with what little breathing you could manage. Then you watched his eyes drop to your lips as you whispered his name, and the melancholic look he gave you when his gaze returned to yours made you squeeze your eyes shut with guilt. He’d confessed his interest in you and you’d completely glossed over it. Not on purpose, but somehow you were making your feelings the priority once again. And now he looked at you like you were already gone. 

“Yeah, Y/N?” You opened your eyes at his call. 

“I…” 

You wanted to tell him how you felt, you really did. But life had taught you that in relationships there was always someone who cared more, and that person always got hurt the most. You just couldn’t keep being that person. 

Jungkook studied your face for what felt like an eternity. If he was expecting you to finish your sentence, he was certainly being patient. But it was the way his mouth turned downward into a small frown and his eyes traveled off somewhere behind you that told you he’d lost hope. 

Until he was staring at you once again and his grip on your chin tightened so subtly you almost didn’t notice. 

“Can I kiss you?” 

His voice came out low and thick. The tone sent a shiver down your spine and made goosebumps rise along your forearms. You’d never heard his voice drop so deep before, nor had you seen his eyes darken the way they had now. A spark of desire fluttered in your stomach and you felt nearly lightheaded from the way your body was hitting a peak level of anxiety over his question. If you said yes, were you just giving into yet another boy who would ruin you? And you believed Jungkook could ruin you. He was an artist; they were always trouble. 

But there was no denying the fact that your nervousness was merely a physical response to your interest in Jungkook that had grown exponentially over time. You were weak, and he was right. You did feel broken and alone and misunderstood. And you knew that sometimes Jungkook felt that way, too.

Just when Jungkook began to pull away with a look of rejection written across his face, you nodded. Unable to speak, you watched Jungkook’s tongue swipe across his bottom lip as he leaned in even closer. 

You were prepared for something much more lewd than what Jungkook gave you. Though your lips were parted, he didn’t invade your space. Instead of tongue and lip biting, you were met with a chaste kiss. His lips were soft and gentle, and the way his hand cupped your face made you feel secure, just as you’d felt when he hugged you. You’d never felt a sense of security with someone from a simple kiss. 

And then he was ending the kiss just as quickly as he’d started it, finally dropping his hand from your face. 

“Sorry,” he sighed, no longer meeting your eyes when he spoke. “I shouldn’t have asked. I don’t want you to feel like you had to agree to that…” 

It was your turn to shut him up. Maybe it was the remaining hormones swirling in your brain from having cried so much, or the adrenaline from being kissed by a man you’d tried to shoo out of your mind, but you felt bold enough to take his chin in your hand as he had done to you. You pressed your lips against his, this time forcing his mouth into a faster, deeper rhythm. The kiss was heavy and more desperate than the first. It was what you’d initially expected Jungkook to give you; a makeout that went hard and fast from the beginning, 0 to 100. That was what fuckboys did, wasn’t it? Anything to get their dick wet the quickest. 

It was what you were used to.

Your small hands found the tops of his shoulders, fingers running along his smooth, warm skin before you pushed him against the headboard. Swinging your leg over his, your knees sank into the soft bed as you straddled him. You adjusted slightly in his lap and the shift made your core press directly on top of the bulge in his pants that you’d admired earlier. This realization made the sudden heat between your legs melt like lava, and you ground your hips into his in a smooth but firm motion. 

The movement elicited a deep groan from the back of Jungkook’s throat, another sweet sound you’d never had the pleasure of hearing fall from his lips. With his lips parted from groaning, you took the opportunity to slip your tongue inside of his mouth. His hands pushed up the hem of your shirt just enough to allow him to reach the skin of your waist, gripping you hard as your body moved against his. 

“Y/N, wait.” 

Jungkook pulled back to lean his head against the bed’s headboard and you were met not with lust-filled eyes as you expected, but eyes that looked so deeply pained you almost wanted to avert your gaze. 

“I don’t wanna be a rebound. I want this to mean something, or else I can’t do this.” 

Jungkook’s voice came out hoarse, and it trembled. His eyes still held that undeniable sadness that reminded you that, once again, you had failed to see how your own fear of rejection had made you ignorant to the feelings you were instilling in him. Here he was, willing to give himself over to you, holding back because he was afraid that you would hurt him.

Once again, shame flooded your face as you frantically searched for a way to show that you needed this to mean something, that in just a few months he had become the most constant person in your life, the person you were most comfortable with even when all you often did was just sit and talk about life. 

There was an obvious way to fix this, but you still had that gnawing feeling holding you back. 

“I like you, too, Jungkook.” Squeezing your eyes shut, you spoke just barely above a whisper. If you didn’t look at him, the vulnerability of the moment would be easier to manage. “You’re kind and smart even though you’re always toeing the line of academic probation.” 

Your words came out rushed, the last comment making you let out a laugh that sounded more like a short burst of air, and you held onto his shoulders for dear life. 

“And you’re the most creative and imaginative person I’ve ever met, but you’re so lowkey about everything. You deserve more than you give yourself credit for,” you continued, eyes still closed. “And… I guess you’re kinda hot…” 

With that you slowly opened one eye to peek at Jungkook’s face. It was embarrassing to say that the grin he wore made your heart soar and it was only then that you noticed the way his fingertips were running along your sides, tracing invisible designs onto your skin. 

“Only kinda hot?” 

“Oh shut up.” 

You gave him a playful slap against his chest. You let your hand linger there, palm pressed against him to feel the strength of his pec muscle. With your bottom lip pulled between your teeth, you ran your hand down the length of Jungkook’s chest and along his abdomen until you reached between your bodies to access the hem of his sweatpants. 

Without warning you gripped his cock, palming it over his pants. You felt it twitch beneath your fingers, already semi-hard and warm even through the fabric. Jungkook let out a low groan, hips slightly bucking into you. Suddenly aware of how painfully clothed you are, Jungkook slid his hands back up your sides, pushing his t-shirt off of you in the process. Ruining the orderly look of his bedroom, he tossed the t-shirt and brought his attention back to you. 

“Fuck, Y/N,” he hissed, realizing that you weren’t wearing a bra. 

You shuddered at the gentle way he ran his fingers up your sides once more and you leaned forward when his tattooed fingers lightly pinched one of your nipples until it went hard. Then he moved onto the other one, tweaking it slowly. 

After a moment you let go of him and reached for the hem of his sweatpants, waiting for him to lift his body so you could pull them down his legs. 

He’s big, bigger than you’d expected. You’d imagined he would have a nice dick, purely because it seemed like the most mysterious, standoffish guys always did. They didn’t have to compensate by being boisterous and arrogant; they knew what they were packing and that was enough. But Jungkook was quite possibly too much. You were a small person, for fuck’s sake. 

“We don’t have to do this. If you’re not ready, we can stop.” 

There was Jungkook reading your mind, yet again. How was it possible for him to know exactly what to say every single time? Were you just that expressive? If so, no one else in your life read you so well. 

“Stop talking,” you repeated his earlier command, but you didn’t look him in the eyes. Instead you were focused on how heavy and soft his cock felt in your hand as you admired him. You ran your fingers along the prominent vein on the underside of his cock, then you glided your thumb along the tip to smear the bit of precum that was already leaking. The action made Jungkook whimper and the sound sent a jolt straight into your core. 

But just before you could lower your head down to give him what you knew he wanted, Jungkook’s hand was cupping your chin once again. He pulled your face upwards to guide you back to his. 

“I’m fine, Jungkook. I want to do this,” you assured him, but he slowly shook his head. 

“You’re going in so fast, and you don’t have to. I’m not some asshole hookup. The point of all this isn’t just to get me off and make you put in all the work.” He leaned forward to kiss you on the tip of your nose and you’d never felt more wanted in your entire life. “You deserve to feel good for once.” 

Snaking his arm around your waist, Jungkook gently flipped you onto your back. Spreading your legs apart with his knees, he kneeled over you as he began laying hot kisses down the length of your neck, pausing only to suck at the soft skin where your neck and collarbone met. 

“Jungkook…” you sighed, squirming underneath him once his mouth began to travel further down. 

He flicked his tongue against one of your nipples, drawing a circle around the erect mound. He let out a deep hiss of approval when you moaned, arching your back to push yourself against his mouth. While his tongue was busy exploring your chest, Jungkook took his sweet time pulling his basketball shorts off of you, those too flying across the room. 

When he moved back into a comfortable position between your legs, his thigh brushed against your core and he let out a moan loud enough you were sure his roommates would hear him. 

“Fuck, Y/N, you could’ve warned me you weren’t wearing any underwear,” he groaned, his thigh now glistening with your arousal. 

“Sorry I didn’t think to tell you while I was crying.” 

“So dramatic.” 

You covered your face with your hands in embarrassment that bore even deeper into your soul when a pathetic whimper escaped your lips the moment you felt Jungkook’s hand slip in between your thighs. 

“You’re so fucking wet,” he sighed, effortlessly sliding his fingers along your folds. He ran his fingers up and down slowly as if he were memorizing each crevice and the way your legs jumped when he hit a certain spot, especially once he began stroking your clit. 

He was exploring, you realized. He was learning your body and there was nothing more embarrassing. All you could think about was the fear that Jungkook might not like what he saw. Or that he was comparing you to his past fucks. Or that Taehyung had told him things about your sex life. 

“Why are you hiding from me?”

You felt your hands being pried from your face and lifted over your head. Jungkook pinned your wrists above you, his face now inches from yours. You could see a restrained wildness in his eyes, but his eyebrows were knitted together in frustration. 

“Why?” he repeated. 

You shook your head, but another irritated call of your name made you question your decision to defy him.

“I just don’t want you to be disappointed…” you whispered, avoiding his gaze. 

“Does this seem like disappointment to you?” Jungkook rolled his hips into you, his now rock hard cock sliding against your dripping folds. 

“Ahh, n-no,” you gasped, wiggling under his hold. 

“Okay, so don’t hide from me. Let me take care of you.” 

Letting go of your wrists, Jungkook got off of the bed. You watched him with confusion that slowly melted into a mixture of anxiety and sweet anticipation as he hooked his arms around your thighs, pulling you to the edge of the bed. Falling to his knees, Jungkook let your legs rest on his broad shoulders. You could feel his breath against your skin and it took everything in your power not to begin squirming again when you felt his tongue lick a hot stripe up the inside of your thigh. 

“I want you to watch me while I eat you out,” Jungkook murmured, his dark eyes locking with yours as he leaned forward to plant a kiss against your lower lips. “Okay?” 

You had no choice but to nod in compliance, propping yourself up on your forearms so you could get a better view even though everything in you was screaming to break your gaze. You could hardly believe it was Jungkook staring at you through his bangs from between your legs. Not to mention you were usually very shy when it came to being sexually pleasured - mostly because it rarely happened. Guys were always expecting you to do them favors, not the other way around. You couldn’t even remember the last time a guy had gone down on you. 

But there was no time to be shy when Jungkook abruptly plunged his tongue into your folds. You let out a loud yelp and immediately slapped your hand over your mouth to muffle the remaining squeals threatening to slip from your parted lips. Jungkook chuckled at your response and the vibration made your cunt throb. 

Still, you kept your gaze locked with his as he lapped up your juices, no matter how dirty it made you feel to have those blown out pupils bore into yours. Your eyes only fluttered when his lips found your clit and began to suck on it while his tongue flicked a steady rhythm against it, the two sensations proving to be almost too much for you to handle. Your breathing became ragged as you felt your abdomen tense up. 

“Jungkook,” you whispered a moan, hands gripping the bed sheets so tightly your fingers started to hurt. 

“Hmm, baby? You’re gonna have to speak up.” The new nickname made you whimper. 

As if to encourage you to find your voice, Jungkook slid two fingers inside of you as he returned to pleasuring your clit. The sudden stretch immediately ripped a strangled moan out of you and your hips involuntarily bucked into Jungkook’s face. 

“I’m sorry,” you quickly apologized, but Jungkook only fucked into you harder, expertly curling his fingers at just the right spot to make your legs start to shake. 

“Don’t apologize. You can fuck my face all you want,” he lifted his head up to lick his lips, sending you a wink that made your heart stop. 

He could sense your orgasm coming soon by the way your walls were clenching around his fingers, but he was determined to make it as mind-shattering as possible. Fitting a third finger inside of you, he continued to suck on your clit, tongue swirling to the rhythm of his fingers. 

“Ohh, oh my god,” you sobbed, tears pooling in your eyes as you finally reached your climax. You let out a loud cry, fingers tangled in Jungkook’s hair as you struggled to still your shaking legs. 

Licking a final stripe up your lips, Jungkook lifted his head from your thighs and gave you a satisfied grin. He was truly a sight for sore eyes with his mouth soaked in your arousal and his hair a mess from your fingers running through it. You fell flat on your back, legs dangling off the edge of the bed. 

“You good?”

“I’m going to die.”

Your eyes were on the ceiling but you heard him laugh and you felt his strong arms lift your legs back onto the bed, adjusting you so you were comfortably in the center of the mattress again. 

“Damn, I didn’t realize I was gonna make you tap out so fast,” he teased, lying down beside you. He pressed a kiss against your throat. 

“Everyone says you have great head game and I should’ve taken them more seriously.” 

“Who says that?!” 

You turned onto your side to face him, already rolling your eyes. “Don’t you know the rumors that get spread about you?” 

Jungkook gave you a small shake of his head. “I don’t worry about people. I’m only worried about you.” 

The warm fuzzy feelings his words gave you were too much for you to bear, so you pushed them away by pulling him closer, crashing your lips into his. Jungkook wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you flush up against his chest. You could feel his cock still hard against your leg and it reminded you that this whole situation felt so foreign to you. Never had you been pleasured by a man who expected nothing in return.

“You are art, you know that? A fucking masterpiece,” Jungkook sighed against your lips, pulling away to nuzzle against your neck. 

“Jungkook.”

“Yes, baby?” There was that fucking nickname again making your pussy flutter back to life. 

Instead of answering him, you reached down to grab his cock. He groaned against your throat as you gave him a few slow pumps. He’d taken care of you just as he’d promised, and now you hoped he’d let you take care of him. Not because you felt obligated to, but because you genuinely wanted to. 

Wordlessly, Jungkook rolled you onto your back so that he was hovering over you, his forearms on either side of your head. 

“I want you so bad,” he growled against your ear, hips rolling into your open legs. 

“What are you waiting for?” you whispered. 

“Fuck…” 

You blinked and he was no longer on top of you. Instead he was rummaging through the drawer of his nightstand, eventually pulling out a shiny square packet. For someone normally so calm, Jungkook’s fingers were shaking with need as he rolled the condom on. 

“Is this okay?” He returned to his position between your legs as you laid on your back. Your heart stung at his thoughtfulness, shocked that he was asking you what position you wanted him in. You nodded, spreading your legs wider for him. Jungkook ran his fingers along the inside of your thighs, his head dipped down so his bangs fell forward, partially obstructing your view of his face. 

You gasped when you felt something wet hit your cunt. He’d spit on you. You could feel the extra lubrication slide down your folds and the lewd act made you shiver. Sure, maybe that was fairly tame for some people, but it had your head reeling.  

Holding the base of his cock, Jungkook rubbed the tip along your folds, further smearing his spit and your arousal together. 

“If you want to stop, just tell me,” he said hoarsely, and that was the warning you got before he was sinking his cock into your entrance. 

Despite how relaxed and turned on you felt, the stretch was considerable. You tensed for a moment and Jungkook froze, his eyes meeting yours. With a nod of approval from you, he pushed himself in further, finally bottoming out and holding the position as he waited for you to adjust. You felt so unbelievably full with him inside of you and the pressure of him against your walls was enough to make your legs shake once again. 

After giving you a bit of time, Jungkook began to move his hips, starting with slow but long strokes that got increasingly deeper. 

“Oh god,” he moaned, head hanging down so he could watch his cock disappear into your cunt over and over again. After a while he lifted one of your legs to rest it on his shoulder so he could adjust his angle to thrust into you that much deeper, and the next slam of his body into yours that had his cock make direct contact with your g-spot made you scream. 

“Shit, Y/N, Yoongi’s gonna kill us if you keep screaming like that,” Jungkook said with a grin that very much made it seem like he wouldn’t mind dying for such an offense. 

“You… just feel s-so g-good,” you cried out, your nails clawing at Jungkook’s arms as you searched for something to hold on to. 

He couldn’t possibly have been concerned considering he only thrusted into you even harder. The thing about Jungkook, though, was that he was going hard but he was going slow. He was savoring every time he slid into you, savoring the glisten of his cock as he pulled out. Turning his head to the side, he kissed the leg he’d draped over his shoulder, one hand running down the smooth skin while his other held on tightly to your hip to keep you in place. 

“Fuck, yes baby,” Jungkook groaned. He pressed his fingers against your mouth, gently prying your lips open to stick his thumb in your mouth. The action surprised you, but you obediently sucked on his thumb until he was pulling away again. Reaching between you, he pressed his now wet thumb against your clit and began rubbing circles as he fucked you. 

You whined at the sudden stimulation, your walls fluttering around his cock as your breathing turned into panting. “I’m gonna…” you let out another moan, your walls clenching around Jungkook’s cock. “I’m gonna come again.” 

“That’s right, come on my cock for me, baby. Let go for me.” 

How could Jungkook make dirty talk sound so alluring? So supportive? It was just like his writing, a gentle lullaby of filth. From the look he’d given you earlier, you knew there was a less tame side of him you’d yet to tap into. The memory of his poem flooded your mind, daring you to take things a step further… she likes to wear my hand as a choker…

Reaching out, you grabbed the hand that was holding onto your hip and brought it to rest on your neck. You saw that same wild look flash in Jungkook’s eyes once again, and you knew the action had affected him because his thrusting faltered for a moment. With your lips slightly parted, you tilted your head back slightly to expose more of your throat for him. Jungkook wasn’t sure he’d ever seen a sight more beautiful. 

“Shit, you keep acting up like this I’m gonna fall in love,” he grunted, biting down hard on his bottom lip as he opened up his palm to get a firm grip on your neck. As he resumed his rhythmic thrusting, he squeezed your throat. At first, the decrease in oxygen had you gasping in your body’s natural drive for self-preservation. Once your body and mind adjusted, though, you succumbed to the way your body tingled with excitement. When you moaned, your eyes fluttering and rolling back, Jungkook applied even more pressure. 

You’d never imagined you’d have another orgasm somewhere inside of you so soon after the first, but you were convulsing around Jungkook’s cock just as he asked you to, calling out his name in the sweetest song. 

It wasn’t long before his thrusts became sloppier and his grip on your throat became almost too tight. The string of profanity he growled in your ear as he came made you shiver. Was it really possible that you affected him so deeply? 

Jungkook hovered over you for a moment, attempting to catch his breath. 

“I think that’s the hardest I ever came in my life,” he said weakly, finally mustering up enough strength to pull himself out of you. He left the bed to throw away the soiled condom, you musing at his cute little butt as he sauntered away. 

“You’re welcome,” you said with a grin, though the hoarseness of your voice startled you. You pressed your hand against your throat and winced, not because your throat hurt, but because of the way Jungkook looked at you with deep concern. 

“Did I hurt you?” he asked softly, climbing into bed beside you. 

“Please,” you sighed, snuggling against Jungkook’s chest. “You did me too good.” 

“I’ll fucking do you again, too, if you don’t stop rubbing your thighs against me,” he murmured in your ear, causing you to chuckle lightly. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

A loud knock on the door made you jump, your arm instinctually covering your chest though you knew Jungkook had locked the door. 

“What the fuck,” he whispered, silently willing whoever it was to go away. 

The knocking continued, this time a bit more aggressively. 

“Open up, bro, the light’s on. I know you’re in there,” Taehyung complained from the other side of the door. “You’ve still got my pen.”  

Your eyes grew wide as you looked at Jungkook. 

With a groan, Jungkook got out of bed once again. Grabbing the basketball shorts you’d been wearing, he pulled them on and snagged Taehyung’s vape pen from where it sat atop his dresser. He didn’t bother to put a shirt on or fix his sex hair. 

“Wait,” you whispered. “What about me?” 

“I don’t give a fuck,” Jungkook spoke at a normal volume as if to demonstrate how serious he was about not caring if Taehyung saw you there. 

“Seriously, JK?” Taehyung clearly thought Jungkook’s comment had been directed towards him. 

You quickly grabbed Jungkook’s t-shirt and pulled it on seconds before Jungkook swung the bedroom door open. 

You watched Taehyung’s eyes slowly scan over Jungkook’s appearance. His mouth twisted as though he were about to speak, but then he locked eyes with you where you still sat in Jungkook’s bed, probably looking just as fucked out as Jungkook did. 

“Here.” Jungkook dropped the vape in Taehyung’s open palm. “Need anything else?” 

Taehyung’s eyes made their way back to Jungkook and whatever snarky comment he’d been prepared to make before was now gone. 

“Nah, that’s it, thanks.” 

-

After a week of being exclusive with Jungkook, you felt the need to loop your roomates into the whole situation. Courtney and Amiriah were your best friends, after all. The three of you had been your own Golden Trio since day one freshman year, ending up in the same peer mentor group. The first time you’d all hung out together you’d gone to an off-campus frat party. Barely an hour in and Courtney had been throwing her guts up right into the pool. Needless to say, the three of you had never gone back to that house. As horrifying as it was, you felt like it painted the perfect picture of your relationship. You were all in it for the long haul, no matter how messy. 

But now you had to tell them you were dating the weird guy. 

You kept looking at your phone, checking the time. The two should have been out of their sorority meeting by now, which meant they could arrive at your dorm at any moment. Waiting was nerve-racking. You gnawed on a hangnail, only pulling your gaze from your phone when you felt Jungkook’s strong arms wrap around your waist. He pulled you into his lap on the couch and leaned into you, lightly brushing his lips along your neck, making you shiver. 

“Why do you act like you’re having me meet your parents?” he asked with a small chuckle. 

“Courtney and Amiriah are important to me,” you started, trying to find the correct words to explain your friends. “They’re also really… judgmental, but because they care about me. And they don’t trust men.” Which was fair. You did your best to look out for them as well. 

Jungkook hummed in response but didn’t speak. That didn’t surprise you. A man of few words, you knew he liked to have time to decide how he felt or what he wanted to say about things. 

“I’m gonna go to the bathroom,” you announced, standing up. Jungkook nodded and leaned back into the couch. Was it a good thing that he didn’t seem nervous? 

Of course the moment you entered the bathroom, Courtney and Amiriah came bustling through the front door. Their loud chatter quickly halted when their eyes fell upon Jungkook lounging on your couch, legs spread and tattooed arm draped across the back of the couch. 

“Hey,” he greeted them with a grin and a nod of his head. 

“Oh, um, hi?” Courtney’s greeting was more of a question. 

“Where’s Y/N?” What Amiriah wanted to ask was how he even got into your dorm, but she didn’t want to be rude. 

“I’m here!” You shuffled into the room, giving your friends a little wave. “Jungkook wanted to hang out here for a change.” 

The boy quirked his eyebrow at you and gave you an amused smile, noticing how you’d made it sound like it was his idea when it most certainly had been yours. Not that it bothered him. If anything, he wanted you to deflect onto him. He’d told you he could take anything you needed to give him, and he’d meant it. 

Jungkook got up from his seat and walked over to the three of you, hands in the front pockets of his jeans. The pose made his biceps and chest more prominent, and you couldn’t help but stare for a moment. God, he was too pretty. 

“I feel bad it’s the first time I’m finally meeting you,” he said in a warm voice. “Y/N never shuts up about how great you two are. Pretty sure I’ve heard the story of The Great Edible Debacle at the Dolph concert about fifty times.” 

You were shocked by how charming he was being. Really laying it on thick. 

“That is a horrible story to be telling people, Y/N! What the fuck,” Amiriah said with a laugh. “We’re only a little bit insane.” 

“And stupid,” Courtney chimed in. 

The four of you continued your bantering as you lounged around the living room, snacking on some food your roommates had brought as leftovers from their sorority meeting. Jungkook fit into the conversation rather neatly, talking a lot more than you’d expected, but still knowing when to sit back and let the girls dominate the conversation. He sat with his arm around your waist, keeping you close but not dipping into any PDA, knowing it would bother you if he did. 

The conversation came to a pause when Jungkook’s phone began to ring, all three pairs of eyes pointed in his direction. 

“Ah, fuck. Tae’s calling me,” he mumbled. “I’ll be right back.” As he stood up, he cupped your face for a moment, running his thumb across your cheek before he was bringing his phone to his ear. 

“Hyungie, what’s up?” Jungkook stepped out into the hallway, closing the front door behind him. 

“Girl, are y’all fucking?!” Amiriah leaned forward with a harsh whisper, excitement dancing in her bright eyes. 

“We’re dating, actually.” 

Courtney let out a squeal, bouncing on her knees where she sat on a pillow on the floor, wrapped in a fluffy blanket. “I knew it, I totally knew it.” 

“I’m gonna admit, weird or not, that man is foine now that I’m seeing him up close.” Amiriah loudly sucked her teeth and shook her head. “He’s got that snatched little waist. And those thighs? He could smash a watermelon.” 

“Okay, okay, but we gotta ask the REAL question here.” Courtney was now plopping down on the couch between you and Amiriah, blanket still in tow. “Did he eat it right?? In the words of Nicki Minaj, do he got good form??” 

You slapped Courtney on the arm in protest, but you were grinning as you spoke. “I almost started crying, it was so good.” 

“WHEW girl, stop it,” Amiriah grabbed your arm and shook it. “Are you willing to share? For charity?” 

Before you could scold your friend for trying to get her hands on your man, Jungkook returned. The shift in the room’s atmosphere was palpable, and the way Courtney and Amiriah watched Jungkook with new interest was almost too obvious. 

He gave you a confused smile as he squeezed onto the couch next to you. 

“So, Jungkook,” Amiriah began and you prayed to God she wouldn’t say anything stupid. “You said you heard stories about us, but we didn’t talk about all the fun things we’ve heard about you!” 

You shot your friend a glare but she was already on a roll with Courtney on her heels. 

“Yeah, we’ve heard all about your poetry,” Courtney added. 

You don’t think your roommates were prepared for the low chuckle that rumbled from Jungkook nor for the dark look in his eyes as he turned to you. He grabbed your hand, intertwining your fingers, and you silently pleaded with him to behave. 

“Yeah, I was trying to give Y/N a preview of what she could be getting.” 

“Jungkook,” you gasped and your friends started talking all at once, but all you could focus on was the way your boyfriend was smirking at you, his tongue playing with his lip ring how he knew you liked. 

He leaned into you, his lips ghosting your ear and sending goosebumps up your arms as he whispered, 

“Just wait until you come over tonight.”

Living with Jungkook meant living with the constant smell of paint. Sure, you only just moved in together less than a week ago, but that was certainly long enough to know. And you were already finding little splatters on the floor and in the kitchen sink.

Living with Jungkook also meant that you were required to use the word magnets on the refrigerator to write him a poem every morning, just like he was going to write one for you. This was established as a house rule while the two of you discussed whether it would be a good idea to live together.

You thought the rules were going to be about who does the laundry, but you had to remember, this was Jungkook.

You tiptoed around the cardboard boxes full of all the stuff you two moved in with, but had yet to unpack. The hardwood floors glistened in the afternoon sunlight streaming through the flimsy blinds. Specks of dust glittered the air.

Jungkook was laying out a tarp in the entranceway of the apartment. An array of paint cans were placed around the tarp to hold it down.

“JK, what are you doing?” you inquired with your hands on your hips.

“Painting,” he said with a simple smile before turning back to his work. It was then that you noticed a large tray with fresh paint, and a variety of brushes sticking out of Jungkook’s pockets. 

“Here? This wall is the first thing people see when they walk in,” you pointed out. Leave it to Jungkook to start on a project before he’d even unpacked all his underwear. 

“That’s the point.” He didn’t look at you as he spoke, instead focused on mixing the color he wanted. 

You let out a small sigh. This man… 

“What are you going to do? Please, I beg of you, please do not paint genitalia of any kind.” It wasn’t that you didn’t enjoy your boyfriend’s artwork. You were obsessed with his creativity, actually. It was part of what made you fall for him. But there was no denying that he was… unconventional in his taste. 

Jungkook let out a chuckle, his nose scrunched up and his cute front teeth exposed. It was the laugh that meant he thought you were being ridiculous. 

“It’s gonna be something even better.” 

That was not reassuring at all. 

“Jungkook, my parents are coming to visit in a week!” 

Setting his brush down in silence, Jungkook extended his arm to hook a tattooed finger through the belt loop of your shorts. You begrudgingly let him pull you forward until you were pressed against his chest. Your arms circled his tiny waist and you forgot you were supposed to be annoyed with him when he started caressing your head, careful not to mess up your hair. 

“I’m gonna paint a mural of my muse,” he said in the wispy tone his voice took on when he was thinking through his plans. “That’s you, in case you didn’t know.” 

You lifted your head to look up at him, your chin resting on his chest. “No.” 

“What?!” 

“You are not putting up some kind of shrine for me in the middle of the apartment.” 

“Why can’t I let everyone know that I worship you?” Jungkook whined, letting go of you. You weren’t prepared to be set free, though, and you stumbled backwards. With wide eyes, Jungkook grabbed a handful of your shirt to stop you from falling, but it was too late. Your foot stepped directly into one of his open paint cans. 

“JUNGKOOK!” you shrieked, lifting up your foot to see gloopy red paint drip from your toes.

Jungkook’s cheeks grew puffy as he tried to hold in his laughter while he searched for his towels. It was a failed attempt, though, and you were glowering even harder as you watched the laugh come bursting from inside him. 

“I’m-,” Jungkook wheezed, holding out a paint-stained towel for you. He was laughing so hard his hand shook. “I’m s-sorry, baby, I-” 

He abruptly shut up when he felt your hand swipe his cheek and a thick liquid rolled down his neck. 

“That’s what you get for laughing at me!” you said with a wicked grin, admiring how you’d smeared paint all over the side of his face. 

Your grin slowly fell as you watched Jungkook lean down to drag his fingers through his tray of baby blue paint. 

“Don’t you dare,” you warned, pointing your finger at him. 

“What? I’m not doing anything.” Jungkook gave you the sweetest smile and reached for your legs. You felt his wet hands slide down your bare thighs and you shrieked again as he threw you over his shoulder. 

“Put me down! Kookie, you’re going to get paint all over the floor.” You gently beat his back with your fists, but your laughter made your actions less convincing. 

“Me? You’re the one ruining my painting area.” He tried brushing his bangs out of his eyes, but ended up smearing paint across his forehead and into his hair. “Now I have to clean my baby up.” 

You could hear the pout in his voice as he carried you down the hallway to the bathroom, dripping red and blue paint. The two of you were certainly going to leave your mark on this place.

@rkiveslibrary @mar-lo-pap

[bunnyykoo]

toss up

synopsis: friday night football games, all day marching band competitions on saturday, and sunday schoolwork catch up — the schedule you’ve religiously maintained throughout high school and now college. that is, until you found respite in jungkook’s company.

☼ pairing: tenor drummer!jungkook x colorguard captain!fem reader

☼ wc: 26.5k

☼ genre: marching band/college au, fluff, angst, smut, romcom

☼ cw: jk as loser stuck in a hot body, uptight oc (not too much on my girl ok? i love her) past misunderstandings, miscommunication (i know i hate it too), negative family dynamics, yearning, pining, jealousy, lots of nickname usage, marching band terminology, physical injuries, 18+ ONLY - MINORS DNI 🔞, mature language, sexual tension, dirty talk, switch jk & oc, masturbation (m), oral (f receiving), handjob, fingering, brief nipple play, spitting, praising, cum eating, semi-overstimulation, oc gets teary from the good o, riding, missionary, multiple orgasms, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, creampie.

☼ a/n: little miss liar here 😌 got ahead of my editing schedule, so might as well release early. anyway! happy bts month!! we are so back, bangtan babes 💜 here’s a very niche fic inspired by real life events. it’s been over 10 years since i’ve marched so pls be easy on me.

banner by the lovely @lovieku *･☆ i also wanna dedicate this fic to her bc she rly gets me so excited to write! nicest person ever like you don’t even know 🥹💖 (pls come back n also open commissions)

”FIVE, SIX—FIVE, SIX, SEVEN, EIGHT!” 

No matter the number sequence, your body always knew when to move. 

Having done colorguard since you were 15 years old, you took pride in being section leader for the third year in a row at your university. The band director typically picked their section leaders based on seniority, but skill sets may outrank that on very rare occasions. Everyone was shocked when Director Lee selected you, a first-year at the time, over another fourth-year colorguard member. You would be too had you been in their position.

Except, you weren’t.

You put in the extra hours when no one else did and arrived on time to every practice. To you, that was the bare minimum. 

Being a good leader, now, that was the hard part. 

You took what you’ve experienced from your past captains: stern in how they led practices, soft in how they uplifted the team during difficult times. Director Lee immediately recognized those qualities in you. Older members rebelled against the decision, but eventually followed suit or left the university marching band due to graduating. 

Colorguard was a sport — you’d argue that it rivaled football. Because who could toss a flag, run 20 yards on the field, and catch between your legs? Yeah. An athlete. Above that, colorguard was a form of visual arts — the storytellers of the marching band. You had a love-hate relationship with colorguard, but the final results were always worth it … be it through winning competitions or feeling a sense of accomplishment. It’s the start of the field season and you’re currently at the ‘hate’ part.

“Shit!”

The music and band members come to a halt after Hoseok signals the band to stop. Everyone’s visibly upset, sunburnt, and probably dehydrated. This was the sixth time in the last hour of practice the band was forced to stop and reset for a mistake, which meant another five push-ups got added onto the post-practice punishment. 

You squint your eyes down the field and realize the commotion involved one of your colorguard members and someone from the drumline. 

Fuck. 

“JUICEBOX!” Director Lee yells from his megaphone in the stands. “Fix it before I do!”

You’d assume he was yelling for a beverage, but no. It was common to have nicknames in marching band. One could acquire a nickname for the following reasons: long name, director hated you, director loved you, or memorable moment. Unfortunately, you got yours when Director Lee witnessed you chugging down five apple juiceboxes after your first tryout. Memorable moment … at least he didn’t hate you, so you think. 

You spot Yuri, your colorguard member, arguing with Jaehyun, a tenor drummer. 

“Dude, you fucking hit me with your flag and you want to complain that I was in your spot?” Jaehyun seethes.

“Well, like I said, it wouldn’t have hit you if you weren’t in my spot!” Yuri huffs and drops her flag in frustration.

“Yuri, what’s wrong?” You jog over.

“Mr. Irrational over here is pissed off because he walked into my toss. But look, my drill told me I’m on the 40. Not my fault I need to cut through them to get to my spot.” 

Sometimes the drills didn’t mesh well with the choreography. It wasn’t the end of the world, just annoying to fix. From behind, you hear instruments shuffle — specifically another set of tenor drums.

“Juice.” 

You sigh. Not from the nickname, but from the person saying it. 

“Set #10 shows Yuri with the baritones on the left. She’s not at the wrong spot, but she shouldn’t be cutting through the tenors, instead going around us. There’s 16 counts in this set, so she’ll have plenty of travel time.”

Jeon Jungkook, third-year, lead tenor drum player. You haven’t gotten the chance to know him … how could you when there’s over 200 members, 18 of which belonged in your section. Based on what you’ve heard and witnessed, he’s an average drummer. Nothing noteworthy. And because of that, you don’t understand why everyone fawned over him. Sure, he’s tall and conventionally good looking. Had a nice head of hair and a distinct laugh that’d grab anyone’s attention. Maybe that’s why? Jungkook was like any other boy in college … the only difference was that he knew how to play the tenor drums. 

To be clear, no, Jungkook wasn’t a section leader. That was Yoongi’s role as center snare. Which makes you wonder why he’s trying to resolve this with you when you should be hashing it out with Yoongi. Ignoring him, you walk over to Yoongi to confirm the coordinates.

“Yeah, Kook is right.” He nods after reviewing the drills. From the side, you see Jungkook beam from the acknowledgment. 

“Ha! See, you were wrong,” the other tenor player says to Yuri as he sets his drums down.

“Jaehyun.” Jungkook’s stern voice catches you off guard. 

“What? It’s true!”

“You were two counts early to the spot. Wouldn’t have gotten hit if you were on time.”

Jaehyun scoffs and rolls his eyes. “Whatever.”

Noobie ego. If you didn’t nip it early on, it was going to cause issues in the future. You had a few of those in your years of being a captain; consequently, you left some unchecked and those became the biggest lessons for you. 

You look at Yoongi with your brows raised, silently asking him, ‘You gonna take care of that?’

He merely stares back with a look that said, ‘Too tired … it’s my last season. Give me a break.’ 

Yoongi wasn’t lazy. He’s one of the many section leaders you respected and enjoyed working with. He remained factual and cleaned up things before they became a problem. Most importantly, Yoongi was fair and reliable. You’ve got a lot to learn from him before he graduates this semester.

“Alright,” Jungkook stuffs his sticks back into the side pockets. “Tenors, give me ten.”

The other two tenors groan and take off their drums and harness. Jaehyun, along with the tenors, drop to the ground and begin their push-ups. What surprised you was Jungkook also going down to do the push-ups too. You've always been a firm believer of the saying ‘when a ship sinks, the captain will go down with it.’

They’re back up within seconds. Jungkook looked like he barely broke a sweat outside the sweat lines on his shirt caused by his harness.

“All good?” Hoseok, the drum major, calls out from his stand. You and Yoongi throw a thumbs up.

“Reset! Take it from the top.” Hoseok calls out to the other band members. 

Director Lee waits till everyone gets back into position before turning on his megaphone. “You all wasted seven minutes of practice, so add another five push-ups.”

───── ♪ ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ♪ ───── 

Practice ended two hours later with 75 push-ups. Not bad, but also not good. At least it didn’t hit the triple digits. Jungkook always saw push-ups as a way to condition his body.

Long hours of practice with his section, ensemble, and individually filled up his day. A wonder how he manages to juggle marching band and school at the same time, but he gets it done. Jungkook knows he isn’t the best, but he’s a hard worker. He loves a good challenge and what better way to challenge himself by playing tenor? Sure, he could’ve stuck with a single bass drum, but tenors had four drums. How cool was that?

You certainly didn’t think so.

Never once batted a single eyelash in his direction in the last three years he’s marched with you. Jungkook exhales deeply after finishing his Gatorade. “She hates me.”

“Who?” Jimin asks while rolling up his flag silks. 

“Your captain.” Jungkook pouts. 

“Juicebox? Nah.”

“Then why does she always look like she smells something bad when she’s around me?”

“Rude, what if that’s just her face?” It wasn’t. In all his years of spinning with this school, Jimin has a good idea of who you are. You’re strict, but a sweet person underneath that tough exterior. 

“She’s just …” Jimin follows Jungkook’s line of vision where you’re laughing with the woodwinds section lead, Kim Namjoon. “Anyway, maybe it’s because you do smell.”

Jungkook scoffs. He knows for a fact he doesn’t smell. Everyone gets a little musty after practice, but Jungkook prides himself on good hygiene. Literally the bare minimum to shower after every practice and reapply deodorant throughout the day. Unfortunately, not the case for certain band kids. 

“Just kidding. You know the smelliest title goes to Ryo,” Jimin teases, “need to start gifting him some body wash this Christmas.” 

“Don’t bother,” Yoongi chimes in. “This is his last field season. Let the man live a little. Saves you a couple bucks too.” He finishes locking up the instruments and bends down to tie his laces.

“Cap,” Jungkook deadpans, “don’t you think she hates me?”

Yoongi stands up and squints at Jungkook, “I think you need to worry about cleaning up your solo in the opener. JB is the least of your concerns.”

“But—”

Yoongi sticks up a finger to Jungkook’s face. “More drumming, less JB fixation. Gotta bounce to a section leader meeting. Catch y’all later.” With that, Yoongi joins the small group of people at the front of the band room, you included. You look back to where Jungkook and Jimin stood. Jimin waves at you and you wave back. Jungkook does the same and receives a tight-lipped smile.

“Yeah, she hates you.”

───── ♪ ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ♪ ───── 

“So as you all know, this year’s show is a spy theme, specifically Mr. & Mrs. Smith.” 

Hoseok stands at the front of the lecture hall, the projector displaying the mood board Director Lee had him make. He wasn’t at the meeting, but he trusted Hoseok enough to get his message across. It’s not that he didn’t want to be here, but he preferred a more hands off approach — thinks it’s building your communication and teamwork skills. Though, Namjoon theorizes that budget cuts to the performing arts department was the driving factor and Lee hasn’t been able to hire any instructors or technicians to help out. Nonetheless, this brought you all closer together. 

“I swear, Lee sees one movie with his wife and gets inspired.” Minji, one of the assistant drum majors, says. 

“Agree. Last year he had us do Pirates of the Caribbean because he went on a cruise with his wife.” Namjoon cackles and the rest of the group joins in.

“Alright, alright. Reel it back in,” Hoseok claps.

“He wants to tell a story … said there has to be an opposite attracts meets forbidden love kind of thing. So I’m going to really need to lean on visuals for this.” Hoseok looks in your direction and you are unphased. The visual part of the show was just as important as the music. Where band members held a stoic expression during the show, colorguard told a story using their body, face, and equipment.

“I’m thinking Juicebox can be one of the spies, but we need one from the band. Any volunteers?” Hoseok looks around the room. 

Namjoon raises his hand. For a moment, you thought he was going to volunteer. “Think me and my section will have to pass on this one. Almost got taken out by Jimin’s sabre last season.”

“That’s cause you were supposed to catch with your hands and not with your head,” you retort. 

“I blame the wind,” Namjoon grins. “Anyway, since sax did something last season, woodwind folks should have immunity.”

“Eh, let’s check in with our sections and see if there are any takers.” Yoongi suggests.

The hour goes by quickly with some distractions here and there. What do you expect from a bunch of college students? Still, you wouldn’t want to be anywhere else. 

───── ♪ ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ♪ ───── 

To your luck, no one volunteered. As a result, Namjoon begrudgingly offered himself to the task. This was his final season, so he thought he’d go out with a bang.

And indeed, he did. During practice, you demonstrated a toss you planned to do in the show. Upon turning your back to get some water, Namjoon thought it was a good idea to mimic what you did … unsupervised, which landed him in urgent care with two fractured fingers.

“Shit … I’m sorry, Joon,” you say after the doctor left the room with the aftercare summary. A minimum of three to four weeks to heal. You know it was no fault of yours. He’s technically not out for the season, but missing a bulk of practices will be too much to catch up on. A duet with you is out of the question. 

“Ha … this was on me. What I get for undermining what you guys do on the field.” He jokes. It was true to some extent, people think all you guys do is twirl around a flag. It was always so much more than that. “I’m the one that should be sorry, Juicebox. Now we have to find someone else for the duet.”

“Don’t worry about it. Just focus on healing. Our first halftime show is in about three months. So you’ll be back on the field at least.” A small part of you worries about not finding a replacement in time. There’s about another 180 band members to ask — one was bound to volunteer, right?

───── ♪ ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ♪ ───── 

snare lord [10:28 p.m.]: Duet position with JB is open. Lmk if you still want it. DON’T be weird. 

Jungkook drops his sticks on his drumming pad and sits up from his bed, eyes widening at Yoongi’s message. He waits about 30 seconds before typing up a response so that he doesn't come off desperate. He threw a mini tantrum when Yoongi (deliberately?) failed to mention that the spy duet was with you, but Namjoon had already volunteered by then. This will be a good chance to get to know you and figure out if you truly disliked him. Plus, he’s always been interested in colorguard — interested in you. 

Jungkook [10:28 p.m.]: waaaat? wat happened to joon?

Jungkook panics when 10 minutes pass and Yoongi doesn’t respond. Fears that he missed his window and someone else said yes to the part. Perhaps playing nonchalant wasn’t for him. 

snare lord [10:41 p.m.]: Injured :/ Do you want to do it or not? Jungkook [10:41 p.m.]: yes snare lord [10:42 p.m.]: 👍👍 I’ll give her your contact and you guys can chat more. 

This entire ordeal felt surreal, like a fan finally meeting their idol. Simply put, Jungkook admired you. Your work ethics, facial expressions … oh, and flexibility. Yeah. Sure, Jimin can do the splits too. Well, 90% of the folks in your section can, but there’s something so captivating about how you’d slowly drop down into the splits like it’s second nature.

Unknown [11:01 p.m.]: Hey. Is this Jungkook?

He nearly falls out of bed. It’s you. Has to be.

Jungkook [11:01 p.m.]: yours truly. juice??? Unknown [11:01 p.m.]: Yep. Yoongi told me you’re interested in the duet. When’s your first class tomorrow? Jungkook [11:02 p.m.]: 8 😬 why? 🧃 [11:02 p.m.]: Cool, meet in the band room at 5:30am tomorrow. Wear comfortable clothes you can move in. Thanks for volunteering btw. 

He reacts to the message with a thumbs up, smiling as he locks and sets his phone down on his nightstand. Jungkook has never been this excited to wake up early.

───── ♪ ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ♪ ───── 

Early morning practices were not ideal. Having Jungkook as a partner? Not your first pick either, but it’s too late into the season to complain. Beggars can’t be choosers. You’ve got a limited time to train and teach him a routine. You arrive at the band room by 5 to stretch and Jungkook comes through the door by 5:16, eyes and cheeks still swollen from sleep but he greets you with a warm smile. He’s in an all black attire: gym shorts and a fitted long sleeve. His physique doesn't quite match up to Namjoon’s, but you know he’s strong. Got to be when he’s carrying those 35lb drums the entire show.

“Morning,” he sets his backpack to the side and sits in front of you to stretch.

“Hi,” you greet, while going down lower in your butterfly stretch, “thanks again for volunteering.”

He smiles softly with a nod. “So what’s on the lesson plan for today, Cap?”

Today’s practice only involved the basics: ballet positions, floor work, and equipment overview. Nothing crazy. And yet, Jungkook finds himself drenched in sweat an hour into practice. Who knew jazz runs would require him to use all the muscle groups in his ass? 

“Remember to turn out. Do it again.” You say with your hands on your hips. 

This was the 10th time you made him start over. Jungkook was frustrated. Didn’t realize how stiff his body was from drumming all these years. Also didn’t realize how nervous he’d get under your watch. Jimin warned that your serious mode competed with Hoseok’s. He never doubted this. Jungkook wants to crawl into a hole every time your face fights a scowl when he forgets what to do next. He thought you’d be a little more lenient during the first practice. Was Namjoon subjected to this too? 

Practice ends a little before 8 to allow him to cool down and get ready for class. Jungkook watches you put on your hoodie and fix your hair. He didn't think there was a single hair out of place before, but what did he know about perfection when he’s been a total mess the entire practice?

“Good work today,” you say. 

“Don’t lie, that was rough,” he jokes before grabbing his stuff. 

“Yeah, it was.” You agree and Jungkook’s stomach churns from your bluntness.

He goes on with his day in classes, half thinking about the show’s new drill, half thinking about ways to impress you. Would he earn your approval if he came into practice remembering all the 27 points on the flag? Was this desperation? Possibly. He returns to his dorm room later that evening. Sits on his desk chair and mindlessly drums his hands on his thigh. Wonders if he should ask you if practice was going to be that early every time because he physically doesn’t think he can do that again. Jungkook fishes for his phone in his pocket and sees a couple of notifications, but the only ones that mattered were yours. 

🧃 [7:23 p.m.]: No one’s good the first time. Just keep practicing. 🧃 [7:23 p.m.]: Also don’t forget to stretch. You’ll be sore tomorrow.  🧃 [7:25 p.m.]: I know drumline has practice on Monday and Wednesday afternoons. Let me know if Wednesday evenings work for you.

Jungkook didn’t care much for the days of the week, but Wednesdays are his favorite now. 

───── ♪ ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ♪ ───── 

Weeks go by and Jungkook has made significant improvements. He’s still somewhat stiff, but his passion makes up for what he lacks. The show is about a third written. Homestretch, as Director Lee would say.

“CUT!” Director Lee yells from the stand, “Juicebox, Jungkook, the work looks fine but I’m not feeling the energy. Don’t know what it is, but fix it. Let’s do a 10 minute water break and we start from the ballad.”

“So … how’s working with Jungkook?” Jimin asks. He’s shirtless and unfortunately sunburnt — almost all the band members are. Hard to avoid when it’s blazing outside. Field season essentials were sunscreen and aloe vera. 

You know Jungkook needed some whenever he’d flinched from your touch during a specific part of the show. Maybe you’ll give some to him after practice today.

“It’s fine.”

You look over at Jungkook. He’s with the rest of the drumline, gulping down his water and letting some drip down his neck. Yeah. Definitely hotter today. The weather, that is. 

Yuri sighs. “Is it too late to swap, Cap? I don’t mind being Mrs. Smith …” she twirls the ends of her hair and watches Jungkook put on his harness. 

“You wanna toss a six on sabre while spinning under it?” Jimin snorts. 

Yuri immediately shakes her head and you laugh. You had no doubt that Yuri could do it. She’s an exceptional dancer, but lacked the stamina and confidence when it came to weapons. She knows this too and rather have a special part of the show be done by someone more consistent with their catches. 

Jimin turns to you again. “Only asking because Lee has been on you guys for looking … odd.” 

There’s a small period of adjustment when it comes to dancing with someone new. Jungkook was … different. Makes you feel weird how he looks up at you in his kneeled position. Makes you feel weirder every time he tenses when you need to sit on one of his thighs for part of the choreo. Bad enough to where you forgot two counts and you never forget. 

“Choreo is still fresh for the both of us. It’ll take some time.” You reason. “Anyway, can everyone come over here?” Your section huddles closer. “First show is next week. It’s crunch time, so I need you all to stay an extra hour after the ensemble to clean our work.”

There were some complaints, but no major protest. Everyone knows how important the first show of the season is. It wasn’t like homecoming or anything, but everyone will be there — football parents, band parents, and students. 

Director Lee sounds the buzzer on his megaphone and everyone jogs back into position. Jungkook smiles at you in passing and you nod in acknowledgment. His smile drops a little and you feel a small rush of guilt. Maybe you’ve also been difficult too. You think back on Jimin’s question … you know what he’s hinting. You and Jungkook were an important piece of the show. The routine was good. What lacked was chemistry and you knew it was your fault.

How do you go about being more natural with Jungkook when you’ve been holding a grudge? An age old grudge that anyone should’ve forgotten by now, yet you’re reminded of it every time you see him. 

You’re on autopilot as you dance around Jungkook during this run through for the evening. This was the part where Jungkook moved his hands at the last minute so that you could pierce the ground with the sabre. Not realizing you were a count ahead, you pierced his hand instead. 

He hisses in pain. Minji spots the accident and immediately signals Hoseok to stop.

“I’m so sorry, Jungkook,” you apologize frantically. Hands were a big part of a musician’s career and you’d be damned if you were responsible for hurting Jungkook. 

“It’s fine, think I just need some ice,” he winces and holds his hand close to his chest. 

“Jungkook, Juicebox, take care of things off the field,” Director Lee calls out, “everyone else, from the top.”

You and Jungkook walk to the bleachers where Director Lee stands.

“Let’s see the damage, kid.” Director Lee holds his hand out. Lee was multifaceted. Truly jack of all trades. The university got really lucky with him … band director, golf coach, and physical therapist. He’s no longer in practice, of course, but he brings a wealth of knowledge and experience to the university. Plus, he’s able to treat folks with minor injuries. You hope this was a minor one. 

“That’s a big one,” he turns Jungkook’s hand to one side, pressing down on the top of his palm to inspect the bones. Jungkook grimaces and pulls his hand back.

“Flex and clench your hands,” he hums, “okay, there’s still mobility. Will bruise and hurt for a few days, but I recommend checking with the school nurse tomorrow if you can’t close your fist. Ice up for the rest of practice.”

You jog to Minji’s special cooler for situations like this. Injuries happened to band kids more than you’d imagined. It is, of course, still a sport. You return to Jungkook with a tied bag of ice. He massages his hand and winces in pain when he gets to the center of the injury. As you near, he masks his pain with a smile and you feel even more guilty. 

“Thanks,” he says when you hand him the bag. He exhales at the icy touch. 

“I’m sorry,” you apologize again, “I was a count early and I didn’t realize your hand was there,” It’s one thing to be in the wrong, it’s another to admit it. You’re only as good as your pride. 

He shakes his head, “I knew you hated me but I didn’t think you were trying to take me out the season too.” He tries to joke to lighten the mood, but regrets it when you frown. 

“Uh, my bad,” Jungkook apologizes. “That wasn’t—”

“I don’t hate you …” you admit softly. 

He pauses, leans against the bleachers, and exhales through his nose, “I know.”

You and Jungkook watch the show from the bleachers. It’s interesting seeing gaps in your respective sections. The show will still go on, but your absence does not go unnoticed.

“Ah, Jimin dropped his flag. That’s another five push-ups.” Jungkook whispers to you.

You snort and chuckle. Jungkook looks shocked for a moment then softens. You’ve always been closed off around him, strictly choosing to discuss the show as his duet partner. This was different.

He likes this side of you. Hates to be those guys who say a woman looks better when they’re smiling. True and false in your case. Cause objectively, you’re an attractive woman. Finds you super cool when you’re expressionless and in the zone. 

Jungkook always hated the sun — spent his early years in life constantly running away from it whether it be staying indoors or under a tree. He had the choice to pick between taekwondo or marching band. As much as Jungkook hated the sun, he picked the sport with the most time spent in it. Thinks he can make amends with the sun now. 

Because as you smile, Jungkook never thought he’d be so easily swayed at the sight of sunlight hitting your cheekbones.

───── ♪ ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ♪ ───── 

Practice ends with 30 push-ups. You get down from the bleachers to complete yours — not without scolding Jungkook to remain seated since his hand wasn’t in the right condition to do anything strenuous at the moment. He pouts, but adheres to your orders. 

Yoongi checks up on Jungkook after he sets his drums down. He whistles at the gnarly bruise and shakes his head at you, mimicking something close to disappointment. “First Namjoon, now Jungkook? You’re actually an undercover agent trying to sabotage us huh, JB?”

“You would’ve been my first target if that were the case.” You shrug. Yoongi chuckles and turns back to Jungkook, who looks at you both peculiarly like the cogs in his brain are slowly piecing something together he doesn’t quite favor. 

“Don’t worry about cleaning up. I’ll have one of the guys put away your drum. Just head home.” Yoongi pats Jungkook’s shoulder as he leaves the field.

Before running to get your equipment, you turn to Jungkook again. “Hey, I’m sorry—”

“If you’re gonna apologize again, I’m gonna make Yoongi have you put away my drums instead.”

You sigh. “Fine. I can reschedule our practices if your hand still hurts. Just let me know.” You part ways from Jungkook to wrap up practice with your section. From afar, you spot a hoard of band members gathering around Jungkook to either check on him or admire the injury. He’s cared for by many. If he was anything like the version you’ve conjured in your mind, you don’t think people would be so concerned for his well being. 

People change and maybe your perception of Jungkook should too.

───── ♪ ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ♪ ───── 

“Juice? Uh, what are you …” Jungkook looks shocked to see you at the doorway of his room. Didn’t even think you’d know where he stayed, but here you are in all of your glory looking up at him like you shouldn’t be here too. It’s Wednesday, the day after you accidentally stabbed Jungkook's hand, but also the day you’re both supposed to be practicing. Jungkook texted you this morning asking you to reschedule practice because something came up. You had a feeling he was lying about his injury to spare you from guilt. 

“How’s your hand doing?” You try to look down, but he has it hidden behind the door.

“It’s alright,” he answers quickly. “Wait, how do you know where I live?”

“Yoongi.” You rock on your heels and look awkwardly around.

“Oh.” He’s unsure why he feels uneasy about this answer. You could’ve just asked him.

“Is there something you need?”

“Not particularly?” God. This was uncomfortable and a part of you wants to apologize for bothering him and leave. 

“Would you like to come in?” He looked back at his room to make sure it was presentable. Other than some laundry on his bed he’s been procrastinating on folding and some music sheets on the floor, it’s not half bad.

“Yeah, just for a bit, if you don’t mind. I won’t be long.”

He opens the door wider for you to walk through. No turning back now. His room was utterly plain. Navy blue fitted sheets, spotless desk, and no posters or wall decorations in sight. It’s as if his only use for the place was to sleep. Jungkook gestures over at his desk chair for you to sit. You set your backpack down, not before grabbing a small jar of ointment out. He sits on the edge of his bed and peers over with curious eyes. 

“Let me see your hand.” You nod your head at his injured hand. He reluctantly pulls his hand to the front and your eyes widen. 

“It’s not as awful as it looks …”

“Jungkook.” 

“Okay, yeah, it’s pretty bad.” He chuckles.

You roll the chair closer to him to examine the bruise. Bruises were common in colorguard — in fact, you’ve got plenty on your forearms and legs. The one on Jungkook’s hand tops them all. You unscrew the cap of the ointment jar and scoop a dime sized amount on your finger. Your other hand holds his from the bottom while you carefully dab the medication on the injury. With years of tending to your own wounds, you’ve learned that you should never rub a fresh bruise, but it always speeds up the healing process when you warm the area. Soft in your ministrations, the ointment quickly melts from the warmth of your touch. Jungkook never expected to receive this sort of treatment from a classmate let alone you of all people. This was expected from someone like his mother — someone that cared for him.

Do you?

He doesn’t know what to do with himself. Doesn’t know where he should stare at. Doesn't know if he should feel the way he does. 

“Tell me if it hurts.” You don’t look up, strictly focusing on the task at hand.

His hands were much larger than yours. He kept his nails cut short and clean, palms calloused from all the years of drumming. Yours were no different. Manicures weren’t a necessity as you preferred to keep them short. Despite the roughness of your hands, there’s an unexplainable softness in your touch. 

A couple of minutes go by and you’re quite impressed Jungkook has gone this long without talking to you. The silence makes you wonder if you should say something. After all, you did barge into his space to apply ointment out of guilt. 

“Are you and Yoongi close?”

“Who’d you march with in 2010?”

You and Jungkook look up at one another after asking a question at the same time. 

“Yoongi?” Your brows furrow.

“Yeah,” he relaxes at your touch. Your fingers pull at his to release any tension and Jungkook has to fight the urge to moan.

You think for a bit. Were you close to Yoongi? He was one of the few that didn’t give you shit or questioned your capabilities when Lee initially selected you as captain. The bond you shared was built on mutual respect. You suppose that’s one of the important foundations of a friendship. But you wouldn’t say you were too close to him on a personal level. He’s a friend nonetheless. 

“Sort of? Why?”

“Nothing. Just wondering.” His shoulders drop. “And 2010? Was still marching in high school.”

Obviously. You internally roll your eyes. Perhaps you need to be more specific.

“Summer 2010. Have you done drum corps?”

Drum corps were independent marching band groups. Similar to intramural sports, people from all over the country tried out for these groups and only the best got selected. Certain groups had an age cap. After that, you “aged out” and joined other groups that accepted all ages, typically less rigorous and accommodating to a wider age range. The circuit you’ve marched with was more competitive … maybe because there was a time constraint to be young and good. 

“Summer 2010 …” he repeats back to himself. “Ah! I tried out for Red Angels.”

That was all the confirmation you needed. “I see.”

“Why?”

“Nothing. Just wondering.” You mimic his answer and refocus on your ministrations. 

He's lost. One moment you seem fine, but now it feels like you're shutting him out. “Did you do drum corps?” He tries.

“Yup.”

Jungkook lights up. He’s always been a fan of drum corps. Didn’t know you’ve done them too. Though, it shouldn’t come as a surprise. You’re very good at what you do. Hell, half, if not all, of the band could be marching in drum corps, but it was rigorous and costly. After getting cut from auditions back in high school, he hasn’t tried for drum corps again.

“What? I didn’t know that. Who have you marched with?”

“Phantoms and Red Angels.” You recount. 

“No way! Wait, Red Angels? When?”

“2010, 2012.”

Jungkook pauses. He doesn’t recall seeing you, but then again, he didn’t make the cut after two weeks of tryouts to remember any faces. 

“Alright, I think this is enough,” you say, unsure if you meant the ointment or the conversation. 

He’s learned so much more about you in these couple of minutes than he has in the weeks of practice with you. Feels a bit disappointed as you release his hand to grab your stuff. 

You place the jar of ointment on his desk. “Make sure to rub some on every night, but be gentle with it. Should speed up the healing process.”

Jungkook is in a daze as he thanks you and walks you out. He’d like to think the tingles on his hand were from the ointment worked into his skin and not from you.

───── ♪ ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ♪ ───── 

You designated Sundays for schoolwork. Because you were rarely home, you preferred working from your apartment, but on rare occasions you’d be forced to go on campus. Today was one of those days. Your internet was down and you had a virtual call scheduled with all the section leaders later. Coffee shops were not ideal due to all the coffee grinding and foot traffic. When in doubt, you head to the campus library to grab a private study room or table. You should’ve known that it would be obsolete, especially on a Sunday. That’s when everyone’s trying to study or get their assignments done. You opt to sit outside instead. Except … the connection was awful and it was warm out. This might be the driving point for you to upgrade your home internet package. 

“Come on ...” You try to move closer to the facilities for a better connection. But you keep getting that circle of death on your screen. Maybe you also need a new laptop? 

“Juice?”

“Oh, Jungkook. Hi.” You wipe away some of the sweat from your hairline. 

Jungkook looked casual in his slides, t-shirt, and sweats. You personally wouldn’t have picked to wear sweats in this weather, but you assume he was just here to pick up his food from the dining corner judging from the greasy brown bag in his hand.

“Whatcha doing?” He asks. 

“Homework. Er, trying to at least. Think I’ll go somewhere else … Internet connection is pretty bad out here.” You place your bag on the bench and begin packing.

“Would you like to study at my dorm? Got air conditioning and the connection there isn’t too shabby.”

You want to say no. That night where you helped him with his hand was to absolve your own guilt for physically hurting him. A one off. But you’ve already driven all the way here and you’re not sure where you would go if not just back home. Plus, gas was expensive. ‘Just this once,’ you tell yourself. 

He looks at you with eager eyes, smiling wider when you nod. 

───── ♪ ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ♪ ───── 

Jungkook was on strike two at the 30 minute mark of studying in his room. The first time was when he started practicing on his drumming pad. The second was when he started humming all his parts in the show. He didn’t lie though — the wifi speed was great here and the air conditioning was nice. Since you occupied his desk, he took his spot on his bed. The times you bent down to get something from your backpack, you’d sneak a peek at what he was up to. He had his earphones in and drummed on his stomach with his hands. The color of his bruised hand looks infinitely better. You’d like to think it was thanks to your ointment, but you know a big part of it was because he was diligent with your instructions. Him and his cooperative nature. He was a good listener — valued what you had to say. 

Jungkook turns and catches you staring. You immediately turn back to your laptop. He sighs, “can we talk?” 

“I know you said you don’t hate me,” Jungkook starts, “but I can’t help but feel like I did something wrong. Did I?”

“You didn’t.” Half truth.

He doesn’t buy it. “Come on. We’ve been working together and it feels like there’s always this wall—”

“Jungkook,” you run your hand down your face, “has it ever crossed your mind that not everyone’s compatible as friends?”

His face falls. Jungkook was kind enough to offer his space for you to study and here you are being an asshole. Hell, he’s been nice all season from offering to take on the duet after Namjoon’s injury to showing up to all the practices on time. You’re not being fair at all. You don’t understand why you’re like this. Well, no, you do. Maybe if you talked about it, it would give you some closure too. 

“You tried out for Red Angels that one summer.” You mumble.

He furrows his brows in confusion. “Yes.” It comes out as a question.

“I remember you.”

“Okay?” He sounds a little frustrated and rightfully so since you’ve been dancing around the topic of you and Jungkook in circles. You also feel a bit stupid now that you’re finally expressing what’s been bothering you.

“I overheard you talking to the other drummers that time. You said something about how colorguard are the cheerleaders of marching band.”

“I did? Juice … I promise I’m not trying to be dismissive, but I don’t understand what you’re getting at.”

You know he’s not. This shit was over five years ago. It’s dumb and the more you talk about it, you realize how stupid of a grudge it was to hold over Jungkook for something that happened to you in high school.

“During my freshman year of high school, I dated a senior,” you reveal. 

“Yikes. I’m sorry.”

“I know, big mistake.”

Jungkook internally tries to correlate the two pieces of information, but comes short. He’s confused. So you tell him. Told him how your ex was the drum major of your high school marching band. Told him how you thought he liked you a lot. Told him that you lost your virginity to him one month into dating and how he broke up with you the following week.

“Asshole.” Jungkook mutters. 

You smile, “right?”

You clear your throat before continuing, “he said some shit about how colorguard are the cheerleaders of marching band. Was a dig at colorguard and cheerleaders. Like that we’re ‘easy?’” 

“I guess … I was upset when I heard it again at the Red Angels tryouts. Fuck, is that stupid?” You palm your forehead. You weren’t expecting to drop your past lore to someone, let alone Jungkook.

“What? No! First off, fuck him. I’m sorry he treated you like that.”

You soften at his words. You don’t really talk much about the things that happened in high school because … honestly, the only good thing that happened in high school was colorguard despite the situation with that senior. Outside of being a pubescent teen, you never cared to reminisce about the past. Found it odd knowing people who called their high school years “the glory days.” You initially decided to go to this university because of their marching band program, but also, you wanted a fresh start. Seeing Jungkook was a reminder of the past. 

“It was the past. I associated that situation with what you said at tryouts. We obviously didn’t know each other and I didn’t know I’d be seeing you again in school.” You shake your head.

“Juice,” he says softly. 

“In hindsight, it’s stupid. I know. You’re probably a nice dude and you’re free to feel what you feel about people in colorguard—”

“It’s not stupid,” he interrupts. “Fuck that dude. You didn’t deserve that. And no, I don’t think of you or anyone in colorguard that way.”

“But you said …”

Jungkook exhales, “this is going to sound dumb, but back then I thought the saying meant that colorguard were the highlight of the marching band performance … kind of like the fact that cheerleaders are the highlight of football games. I honestly didn’t know there was another meaning.” He mumbles. 

“Oh.”

You and Jungkook stare at each other with pursed lips now that everything has aired out.

“I’m glad you told me about your past. That explains some things …” he looks to the side, “I hope you know I’m not that kind of person. And I understand what you mean about people just not being compatible. Friendships can’t be forced and I won’t force that on you either.” 

You nod, “thank you.” You’ve been difficult all this time and now that Jungkook was respecting your boundaries, you feel out of place. 

“Don’t you have a section leader meeting soon?” He nods at his digital clock. 

“How did you know?”

He smiles sheepishly, “Yoongi complains about it in the group chat. Says it’s overkill.”

You snort. “It is, but Lee thinks it’s good for us.”

“Yeah, well … I’ll just be here,” he puts his earphones back in his ears and lays back on his bed. Your stare lingers before you turn back to your laptop. You’re a little embarrassed about how this transpired in the last couple of minutes, but there’s relief in knowing you were wrong about Jungkook. More than that, you realize why people appreciated him. 

Your virtual meeting starts and you assume it’ll be a quick one, that is until Hoseok gets to your updates. “Sooo, Juicebox. Lee has this crazy idea …”

You tilt your head. Whatever Lee wants, Lee gets. Just the matter if he’ll give you enough time to execute it. 

Hoseok smiles sheepishly, “last time, we had Namjoon catch a sabre tossed to him. What if we had a band member toss AND catch something? Jungkook, specifically. Lee was thinking … a five. Is that unreasonable?”

Unreasonable was an understatement. Namjoon’s catch was different … for one, it was just a triple, three rotations in the air. Second, Jimin was the one that tossed it to him. A five? There were people that have spun for years and never reach a five on a weapon. Not that they were bad, but people had different strengths and skill sets. Jungkook was just your partner in this show. You’ve only taught him the basics in the event Lee wanted something extra. You weren’t expecting this.

“I don’t know if it’s possible. I can try to train him, but no promises.” 

“Don’t think it’s a good idea,” Yoongi interjects, “Jungkook is lead tenor. I need him in top condition … if he gets hurt again …”

“Not saying it’s a must or anything. Let’s explore that idea and if it’s a no go, we won’t move forward with it.” Hoseok says. 

Everyone on the call reacts with a thumbs up. The call shifts over to the topic of a fundraiser. “Rehearsathon,” as Namjoon calls it, involved each band member reaching out to sponsors for donations to pledge they’ll rehearse for 12 hours straight. It sounds ridiculous, but Namjoon swears it works. Raises money for the band and everyone gets in extra practice time — hits two birds with one stone. He thinks it’ll be a great opportunity to chat up with some folks at the upcoming football game to get some sponsors. 

Having ended the call an hour later, you think you’ve overstayed your welcome. You pack up and mentally prepare to tell Jungkook you’re leaving. 

“What’s not possible?” Jungkook straightens himself up on his bed. 

“Were you eavesdropping?”

“Guilty,” he confesses, “can’t blame me … I’m literally two feet away and these earphones aren’t exactly noise cancelling. So, what’s not possible?”

“Lee wants to add another wow factor into the show.” You get up and Jungkook stands up as well, “wants you to do a five on weapon.”

“I don’t see why not. It’s worth a try.”

You put on your backpack and look at Jungkook incredulously. “Namjoon got taken out for a couple weeks by accident.”

“Okay, but you’ll be teaching and watching me, right?” He looks at you with those big, hopeful eyes again and you wonder to yourself if you both aren’t as compatible as you deem. 

“Fine. We’ll try it next practice. Thanks again for letting me work here … you didn’t have to.” You mumble. 

“Yeah, cause this space is only reserved for friends.” He jokes. “Kidding, Juice. It’s really no big deal.”

Ever so the gentleman, Jungkook walks you to your car even after you reassured that it’s not needed. He made up some excuse that he just wanted some fresh air. 

You both arrive at your car and you turn to him. “Well, thanks again.” You unlock your car and toss your backpack into the backseat. He waves and tells you to drive safely. The distance between you and Jungkook grows as he walks back to his dorm. 

You don’t know what compelled you to call out his name, but he turns quickly as if he’s also been waiting for this moment. “I never said I didn’t want to be friends with you. And yeah, you’re right. Colorguard is the highlight of the show.”

He smiles, and it’s devastating. How your body warms from just his smile. How it dismantles the walls you’ve built up around Jungkook. The foundation was weak to start, waiting for the right moment to crumble and start anew. You’re sure you can. 

“I know. See you at practice, Juice.”

───── ♪ ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ♪ ───── 

Men in colorguard dominated the weapon line. They had the strength and stamina to toss a rifle with little to no struggle. Pain tolerance though? You question that. Jungkook had the energy, but his control was off. It’s not his fault. This was his first time touching a rifle. The average person isn’t tossing and catching random objects. Anything that goes up, will have to come down. And having a rifle barreling down your head isn’t anyone’s idea of fun. 

“You have to squeeze.” You say after another lofty toss that has you both dodging the drop. 

“What does that mean?” He complains, “I am squeezing, see?” Jungkook shows his hands gripping the rifle harder. 

“No, your core.”

“What even is that?”

You place your hand on his stomach and another one on his lower back. Skinship in colorguard was normal, especially in dance. You’re used to it. You’d think Jungkook would be too. After all, there’s never a point in the show where you’re not touching each other. Yet, he tenses up under your touch.  

“Think of it as sucking in air and a string is pulling from your back.” You look up at him, “try it.”

Jungkook tries to follow your instructions but ends up with his back hunched over like a turtle. You laugh, now moving in front of him as you grab one of his hands from the rifle. Instinctively, you place it on your own stomach. His hand spays over your abdomen — big, warm, secure. You freeze. You shake off the feelings and take a step closer to Jungkook, not quite able to look up from your position.

“Like this,” you demonstrate the technique, “feel the difference?” You press his hand harder against you. You certainly feel it … the lightest change of pressure in his fingertips, the small movement from his thumb. No one would have noticed, but you do. 

You hear him swallow and exhale a shaky breath, “uh huh.” 

“Good,” you step back and let his hand fall back to his side, “reset and do it again.”

───── ♪ ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ♪ ───── 

Jungkook’s #1 remedy to a sore body was a hot shower. 

He’d run up the water bill back at home with the amount of hot showers he’d take after practice. At school? No difference. Even better now that he didn’t have his family breathing down his neck for taking up all the water. These days, he finds himself doubling down on his showers. He definitely underestimated the level of difficulty to perform as a musician and colorguard.

It hurts. His feet, shoulders, hands … literally everything.

All worth it though, especially on those rare occasions where your eyes light up after he’d reach another milestone in those private sessions.

He’s greedy for more. A smile. A compliment. A high five. Anything. Jungkook collects them in his invisible stamp book of accomplishments. Didn’t think he’d unlock something new today — something foreign within himself. 

The hot water beats down on his skin. It’s scalding, borderline painful. Even so, it doesn’t compare to how punishing his hand is wrapped around his hard, leaky length. Jungkook supports himself upright with one hand on the shower wall. He shakes. Grunts lowly. He shouldn’t feel this way for you. Shouldn’t think this way of a teammate. A section leader, at that. You’re in his head whether he likes it or not. 

Damn you and the innocent stunt you pulled during practice.

Damn you and those short shorts. 

Damn you and your pretty eyes. 

Because he’s here thinking about how you’d feel pressed against him, shorts pulled down, eyes watery from how good he’d make you feel. Would you praise him? Lose yourself on him? Encourage him to keep going? His hand speeds up.

Then, the unthinkable happens: your name slips out.

Shame needs no welcome. 

“Fucking hell,” Jungkook groans, orgasm slipping away as he abruptly lets go of his cock at the last second. He cranks the shower knob to the coldest setting. This was so wrong. You deserved better — shouldn’t be reduced to some weird fantasy.  

He pushes his wet bangs away from his forehead. Shakes his head as he scolds himself, “get a grip, man.”

Hot showers were his #1 remedy for a sore body.

Cold showers became his #1 remedy for you. 

Jungkook quickly finishes his shower to rid himself of those sinful thoughts. Tucked in bed by 10pm, he scrolls through his social media, praying he’ll find something worthwhile of a distraction. Just as he was going to call it quits and step out for a walk, his phone rings. 

Incoming call: Chaewon. 

───── ♪ ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ♪ ───── 

You never really understood football. Didn’t really bother to pay attention to it when you were in high school since your team was notorious for losing. You were only there to perform for the halftime shows. College football was different. More lively. You still didn’t get the rules of the sport, but you appreciated the school spirit. Also was nice that your band played music whenever your school scored. 

Hair and makeup was done thirty minutes before the show since nobody wanted to sweat off their work during the practice run throughs. You give a quick pep talk to your section. There’s always first show jitters, but you all worked so hard. Mistakes were inevitable and will motivate you all to improve for the next performance. So will push-ups, if Director Lee catches any in the stands.

“Hey.”

You turn at the familiar voice. Jungkook has on his uniform, harness hidden underneath it so it looked like the drums were floating in front of his body. Hat with the signature school feather tucked at his side, he looks polished. 

“Ready to crush our duet?”

“Of course,” you grin, “if you make a mistake, you’re doing my push-ups.” Banters come a lot easier after the confrontation you had with Jungkook awhile ago. You feel more at ease with him these days.

“Cruel. Aren’t captains supposed to sink with their ship?”

“You’re on your own ship.”

“Ouch.” He chuckles. “Hey, can you zip me up? Forgot to ask one of the guys for help before coming over here.” He turns and bends lower for you to reach.

“All done.”

“Thanks, you’re a gem.” He turns slowly just to make sure he doesn’t hit anyone with his drums. Jungkook studies your face for a brief moment, clears his throat, and smiles. 

“I like your eye makeup by the way. Blue suits you.”

“Yeah? Thanks,” you flush at his words. 

Most show makeup was done heavier so that the audience could see. Realistically, no one can see your face from the stands. Perhaps that’s why your parents never came to your shows. Too many band members, too hard to spot. No parent wants to waste time playing Where’s Waldo with their kid.

“Jungkook!”

Jungkook looks around for the source of voice and he waves excitedly, “Ma!”

You watch a short middle aged woman weave through the crowds. Her bangs were pinned away from her face. There’s an uncanny resemblance between her and Jungkook. It’s all in the eyes. She side steps his drums and gives him a hug with lots of pats on his back.

“I told you I was going to meet you all later after the show, Ma,” Jungkook says with a sweet smile, “how’d you even find me?”

“I always know where my son is!” She chuckles. In a sea of band kids and a filled stadium, it would be hard to locate your kid. Though how hard would it be to spot a boy with tenor drums? There were only four of them in the band. “Look at how tan you’ve gotten. Don’t forget to wear sunscreen. I know you burn easily.”

“Ma …” he grumbles. He knows it comes from a place of endearment. After all, his parents supported him all throughout high school and college by coming to his shows, even volunteering to carpool and host meals for the marching band. It’s a type of community and support he won’t take for granted. 

Jungkook looks out to the crowd, “where’s dad and Junghyun?”

“You know them. They’re in line for some nachos.”

You slowly back away to let him chat with his mom. It’s not that you disliked social interactions … you just really didn’t know what to do or say.

“Oh, Ma, this is Ju-,” he recovers quickly by saying your actual name, “she’s the colorguard captain.”

“Oh! Is she my favorite one to watch, Kookie?”

“Wha-? I thought I was your favorite to watch …”

“We got cameras for a reason.”

You giggle and shake her hand. You can tell where Jungkook gets his energy from.

“Your parents must be very proud of you. Such a lovely performer.” She praises.

Your smile doesn’t quite reach your eyes at the mention of your parents, but you nod your head in agreement, “thank you.” 

Sensing your discomfort, Jungkook jumps in, “Ma, we gotta go warm up now. Make sure you watch me. I’ve got a special part in the show.”

She pinches his cheeks, “wouldn’t miss it for the world, hon. Good luck, you two.” His mom quickly makes it through the crowd and up the stands. 

“Sorry, my mom can be a bit eccentric.”

You shake your head. “She’s cute. I can see where you get your personality from.” Wait. Pause. That came out wrong and you hope Jungkook didn’t catch that either.

“You think I’m cute?” Nothing flies over his head. 

“I think you need to worry more about pointing your toes during our routine.”

“Ugh, you sound just like Yoongi.”

“Wrong. I haven’t made you do push-ups. Though I probably should with the amount of times you dropped the rifle.” For that reason, you let the director know that the toss won’t be in the show … at least for this performance. It’s still too fresh and you would rather have a clean show with an easy routine.

“Cruel.”

You smile, “I’ll see you on the field.”

“Hey, Juice?”

“Hm?”

“Full out?” He says with a playful grin.

It’s a term he’s picked up from you over practice when you want him to perform at his best. This was your life motto. If you had to do something, you were going to do it full out. Do it so well that when the moment is finished, you could look back fondly and proudly at your accomplishments. 

“Full out.” You mirror his smile. 

───── ♪ ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ♪ ───── 

The halftime show went well. Some mistakes were made, but what’s done is done. 

“Gah! I can’t believe I dropped when I was on the diva spot.” Jimin complains. The diva spot, a.k.a. the 50 yard line, was every colorguard member’s dream. For a moment, you were the center of the show. It’s one thing to be on it, it’s another if you had to do something big. And Jimin had a major toss that he missed. Nerves probably. Happens to the best, but it’s still not a good feeling for opener night. 

“I hate this uniform. I’m soaked in my sweat.” Yuri says as she carefully wipes her face, avoiding her eyes.

“My feet hurt.” Another girl whines.

Your mind races, still trying to catch your breath from the show. Performing in front of an audience was different. The cheers, the lighting, the adrenaline. You do your best to soak in the moment, but all you want is a bottle of Gatorade and to get out of this uniform. 

“Pain is just weakness leaving the body,” Director Lee comes from the corner. Ah, another one of his sayings he got from Pinterest. 

“Nice work, guard. I saw that drop, Jimin. Tighten things up.” Director Lee comments while noting down something on his clipboard. 

“Yes sir …”

“Director Lee, is there any way we can order new uniforms? It’s like a body sauna in this one.” Yuri inquires.

“Huh? Aren’t you kiddos into that bodysuit look?”

“Not when we look extra sweaty.”

“It’s not sweat, it’s glow.” Everyone groans at another one of his Pinterest quotes. Compared to the rest of the band, he’s a lot nicer with colorguard. He doesn’t know much about colorguard, but knows how hard you all work. As tough as Director Lee was in general, he’s a softie with guard … even with all the cringy dad jokes he makes. 

“Juicebox, I thought the duet with Jungkook was nice. I’m expecting Jungkook to be ready for the five next show. Still think something is not clicking. Don’t know what though,” he writes down another note in his clipboard, “but I trust you’ll get it fixed.”

“Yes sir.” You don’t know what to fix if he doesn’t tell you. One of those moments where you feel like you’re trying to hit a moving target. Perhaps talking to Jungkook about it may help. He hit all his marks in the show. You’re proud of his growth. Think it’s only right you expressed that, just as you do with your members whenever they hit a milestone. 

The band sets up their equipment in the stands again after the show. You look for Jungkook. He isn’t hard to spot. Not because he was tall or anything, but because of the swarm of people around him. Specifically cheerleaders. You liked your cheer team. Their work ethics mirrored closely to colorguard. What you don’t understand is the weird gnawing feeling in your stomach the moment you catch Jungkook and the rest of the girls laughing at something he said.

What’s that about?

He spots you. Smiles wider. Says something quick to the girls before he tries to walk away. Seemingly in your direction at least, but the girls don’t let him leave for whatever reason. 

Like the other band members, you gather around the cooler for some refreshments.

“Damn it. Jungkook is a genius for rounding up sponsors from the cheerleaders,” Jaehyun takes a bite of his granola bar. 

“You say it like they’d give you a single penny if you asked,” another member says. “He’s always been popular with the cheer team. Probably the dude with the most charisma unlike the majority of us band geeks.”

“I’ll have you know that my flirting skills—”

“Anyone who needs to talk about how great their flirting skills are, has none,” Yuri interrupts.

“You’re just a hater,” Jaehyun rolls his eyes. 

“And you look like…” more insults get fired back and forth between the two. 

You take the stairs up to where the guard sat during the games. There’s not much for you to do until call time. If you really wanted to, you could choreograph something, but being at the game was already enough. That’s what the cheer and dance teams were for anyway. 

Yoongi groans in his descent to the seat next to yours. Says he has old man knees. Ridiculous claim for a 22 year old, but you’re sure every band member has some sort of long term injury at this rate. Yoongi juts his chin to the bottom of the stands. “Think they’re gonna date?” 

“Who?” Your eyes zero on Jungkook and the cheer captain. He still hasn’t departed from the group. 

“The noobs.” Yoongi puts his feet on the empty bleacher. 

“Jaehyun and Yuri?” You laugh. “No way. They hate each other.”

“So did Romeo and Juliet.”

“Okay, but they died too.”

“Ugh, JB, you’re such a pessimist.” He snorts. 

“No, just a realist.”

You look down to where Jungkook stands. He’s no longer focused on the surrounding conversation. Has this antsy body language like he’s in search of something … or someone? Keeps looking back and forth between whoever was talking to him and the bleachers. Specifically, in your direction.

“He likes you.”

“Jaehyun?” You avert from the obvious answer. “Not interested in noobs.” 

Yoongi squints his eyes and smirks. “You’re no dummy, JB.”

“Don’t know who and what you’re talking about, Yoongs.”

“He’s not a bad kid,” Yoongi continues, “a little rough around the edges, but he tries hard. I’m sure you’ve noticed.”

“Since when have you started playing wingman for Jungkook?”

“See, I knew you were no dummy.” 

You stick your tongue out. Yoongi takes the hint and drops the topic, choosing to stare at the open football field. 

“I’m gonna miss this,” he says after a beat. “Should I fail one of my classes to be a super senior?”

“I wouldn’t hate graduating with you. We’d get our captain plaques together on senior night.”

“Dad would kill me if he had to pay for another semester.”

You chuckle and lean back. Hoseok calls the band to prepare as the game starts up again. Yoongi goes back down with his section and you’re with yours. Being at the top of the stands, you’re also closer to the stadium lights where all the gnats and moths gather. Can’t help being tempted by the light. You have a lot in common with them. Feel for them, actually. Because much like them, you’re also helplessly drawn to Jungkook’s light.

You don’t understand football, but it’s a nice distraction to put out the little spark of curiosity for a certain tenor drummer. 

───── ♪ ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ♪ ───── 

You’re off. 

Maybe it’s cause of what Yoongi planted in your head. Maybe. Because you find yourself looking for Jungkook on the field whenever Hoseok signals the band to stop. With only four tenors in the band, he’s not hard to spot. Jungkook was always the last one to fall out of attention after Yoongi taps on his snare. You also find yourself fixated on his bare back and how it flexes when he leans to tilt his drums up. You tell yourself you’re only looking because of what his mother said at the recent football game. He burns easily — shoulders look a little raw and the harness rubbing against it doesn’t make it any better.

Jungkook is just as equally to blame for these weird times. He texts you every day and sends you corny marching band memes. Honestly? They weren’t that funny, but you chuckle nonetheless when you see Jungkook follow up with a ‘LOLOLOLOL us.’ Serves to only confirm he’s also thinking about you. 

You spend most of your days in practice with him — you’re bound to think of him outside of it. Especially when you’re at the local drugstore to get some tampons and you come across a bottle of aloe vera. All you have to do is hand it to him. And yet, the bottle remains with you for the next two weeks, burning a hole at the bottom of your backpack. 

Granted, you had plenty of chances to give it to him since you’re over at his dorm every Sunday to study. Don’t know when this routine started, but you’d have to thank your spotty wifi for that. It doesn’t take much to convince you either. Good air conditioning, decent wifi, clean space … and Jungkook. Speaking of which, he’s on the floor drumming on his pad. Your brain tricks you to think of it as white noise at this point — loud and comforting. Not sure if you could fall asleep to it, but probably for the better during these study sessions.  

His drumming comes to an abrupt stop, “Juice?”

“Hm?” You don’t turn around, too fixated on annotating your lecture notes. 

“Do you always bruise around your legs?”

It’s not uncommon for colorguard members to bruise, given that accidents occurred on a daily basis. Whether you miscalculate a toss or there’s overuse of certain body parts, injuries were inevitable. The bruises on your knees are an unfortunate byproduct of all the floor routines you’ve endured. They’re your battle scars. Pretty like the galaxy. That’s one way to view them outside of the pain.

You turn around. Big mistake. 

Jungkook looks up at you with starry eyes. It doesn’t help that his five-inch inseam shorts have lifted in his seated position. You’ve always had a weird obsession with tanlines and the ones on Jungkook’s thighs blend perfectly together. 

His eyes move from your face and down to your exposed legs. He points at one of the bruises on your shin, “that’s a new one.”

“Very observant of you.” You reply.

He goes red. As if he got caught red-handed doing something forbidden. You quickly follow up with a lighthearted chuckle to diffuse the awkwardness. “But yes, I do bruise easily. Takes a while for it to heal too,” you cross your legs.

“That sucks … guess we all have a weakness, yeah? You with bruising and me with burning.” He chuckles, “B&B.”

“The harness doesn’t help with the sunburn, huh?”

Jungkook smiles, “very observant of you.”

You roll your eyes, think this would be a good time to give him the aloe vera, so you dig through your bag and toss him the bottle. Jungkook catches it with ease and fumbles around his nightstand and tosses you an unopened box. “Trade you.” 

It’s the same ointment you brought him a while ago for his hand. You already have some at home, but it felt nice knowing he also thought of you too. 

He sits on his bed, grabs his shirt from the back of his collar, and tugs it off his body. Most people shy away from nudity, but band kids are a different breed. You’ve seen people practice in nothing but their undergarments in the past. You should be used to this — to Jungkook’s body. Keyword: should.

You swallow at the sight of his broad back, lean waist, and defined biceps. You should avert your eyes. Again, keyword: should.

Your eyes follow his hands as they reach around his shoulders to smear the liquid on his skin.

“You missed a spot.”

“Huh,” he turns to his floor-length mirror to see and attempts to reach back around. Fails again.

“Want me to help?” The wheels on Jungkook’s desk chair squeak as you roll closer.

“Yeah, if you don’t mind.” He hands you the bottle and turns around. You squeeze the bottle and watch the dime sized liquid dribble on his back. He shudders and exhales softly. 

You wonder if the deep shade of red on the tip of his ears was just another place he burned easily. Jungkook’s skin feels hot at the touch. Find the freckles and moles on his back endearing. Find it more endearing that he could never see them like you do. Much like his starry eyes, his back mirrors the constellations in the sky, begging to be traced and mapped by your fingers. By you. 

“There, all done.” You close the cap and set the bottle on the nightstand.

He clears his throat, “want me to help?” Jungkook points at the ointment in your lap.

Now it’s your turn to feel shy. “I can do it myself.”

He tilts his head, “I know you can.”

───── ♪ ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ♪ ───── 

You’re surprised at yourself — surprised you agreed for his help, surprised you’re seated on Jungkook’s bed with your foot perched on one of his thighs. You position your hands behind to support you upright.

“This okay?” Jungkook asks as he starts on the smaller bruises around your ankle. You’re not sure if he means this entire ordeal or the pressure he’s kneading into your skin. Regardless, you nod and bite the inside of your cheeks. You never realized how sensitive you were — never realized how much the bruises ached outside of your own touches. It’s been a long time since anyone has tended to your wounds, so this was different. A good different.

“You can go a little harder. Those are old.”

He does as he’s told. Always good, ever so obedient.

Jungkook eventually makes it up to your knees. You’ve let out a few shaky breaths in the time he’s worked the ointment into your skin, all while noticing the way his mouth parts at your reactions.

He eyes the last bruise between your thighs, and back up to your eyes, “there, all done.”

Something shifts in you.

“But you missed one.” You tilt your head, feigning ignorance just to see what he would do. He always does as he’s told, but you sense some hesitancy. Not because he’s uncomfortable, but because he’s unsure what will happen next if he touches you beyond what’s appropriate.

“Juice …”

“What?” You stare at him through hooded eyes, “I thought you wanted to help me.”

“And if I don’t?” He leans in, watches if you’d move away. You don’t, so he takes the chance to rest your leg down on his lap. 

“Push-ups.” You say without another thought, also leaning in. 

He laughs through his nose, “might do something that’ll warrant that anyways.”

“Like what?” You ask, “show me.” You have an idea of what will happen next. At least, you hope. There’s no doubt something changed between you two since that talk. Sure, you feel more comfortable around him, but lately? You’ve also been feeling other things. As much as you’d like to blame Yoongi, you know it’s your own attraction for Jungkook.

“Yeah?” His face is centimeters from yours. 

“Yeah,” you nod, nose grazing his.

He kisses you. 

Nothing more than a small peck to test the waters, but he waits a millisecond, which earns himself a soft whine from you as confirmation to continue. Your hand cups his jaw and pulls him in. 

“Again,” you breathe, “do it again.”

It’s the same order you’d give to anyone making a mistake in colorguard, but this was no mistake. Call it a Pavlov response or whatever; Jungkook always does as he’s told. Tries his best to make it good for you — doesn’t take much. He angles his head a little, does this pouty thing with his lips that has you feeling warm all over. You lick at his lips. It’s tentative, careful, and slow — gets him breathing heavier. 

“Fuck,” he muffles a small groan. 

Jungkook parts his mouth and the rest is history. Every lick, every nibble, every breathy moan felt experimental and deliberate all at once. Thumb tracing your cheek, the pressure of his fingertips on your hips has you keening. Time is an illusion because you’d spend the entire afternoon kissing Jungkook if you could. He pulls away first, lips pink and swollen with a sheen of saliva you’re unsure who it belonged to.

He swallows, “well?”

“Well, what?” You say, slightly out of breath. 

“Do I still need to do push-ups?”

You snort. He beams. You do spend the rest of the afternoon kissing Jeon Jungkook. 

───── ♪ ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ♪ ───── 

“I’ve got to say, Juicebox,” Namjoon pauses to chug the rest of his water, “I don’t think I could’ve pulled off what Jungkook is doing with you.”

You almost spit out your water. “H-huh?” 

Did Namjoon know something happened between you and Jungkook? 

“The duet. You guys are killing it.”

“Oh. Yeah,” you relax, “extra practice helps.”

Practice does help. And so do the kisses in between breaks that Jungkook swears by makes him improve. You don’t require much persuading to fall into his requests. Enjoy it too much to be restrictive of his affections. As a result, things get a little … difficult during ensemble practices because all Jungkook wants to do is pull you away to kiss you silly. Deprivation of each other works out in your favor because Director Lee no longer mentions how you both need ‘more chemistry.’

“Nice. Hoping for a solid show for all of us by the end of the month. My high school is going to be there.” The marching band was scheduled to perform at the end of a high school circuit competition. Director Lee says it’s a good way to get the school’s name out for prospects thinking about which university to attend.

“Also, is Jungkook okay? He keeps looking over here.” Namjoon nods his head from the side. 

You don’t even have to look. Jungkook’s been doing this every practice. Like a touch starved puppy waiting for their owner to come home. As endearing it is, you’re worried. If Namjoon noticed, eventually the other band members would too. 

“Think he’s just zoning out.” You lie.

“True. Eyes are giving pug.” Namjoon stands up and pulls the neck strap over his head, “alright, last run through for the day.”

───── ♪ ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ♪ ───── 

“You need to stop staring so much during practice,” you say in between kisses. Jungkook was over at your place under the guise to troubleshoot your shitty Internet connection. Quite confident it wasn’t your internet tier, but that it was just an old router. Ten minutes into inspecting your router, you end up pinned underneath Jungkook on your couch. 

“Why? You don’t like it?”

“Namjoon said you looked like a pug.”

“Pugs are cute.” 

“They are,” you concede. 

“Then what’s the problem?”

“Just-oh!” You look down at the source pressed at your heat. Jungkook is almost always hard during and after kissing, that much you know. Whether it’s from a simple peck or minutes of making out, he’s sporting a boner. Doesn’t take much to rile him up. Though, he’s never done anything further. Just tells you:

“Ignore that,” he trails kisses down your jaw and neck, “so what’s the problem?”

“Don’t want people assuming.”

“Oh.” Jungkook pauses and sits up on his heels, “right, sorry.”

You don’t mean to hurt his feelings. It doesn’t help that you’re a private person and things feel extremely preliminary with Jungkook at the moment. You like him, but for all you know, he could just be in it for a fun time. If this was going to die out, you rather have the least people know about it. It’s not like you’re actively wishing for an inevitable end. 

Realistically, it doesn’t hurt to prepare for hurt.

Mood completely shifted, Jungkook sits upright and looks around your apartment. It’s neat, feels homey with how you decorated it. Most of your furniture was secondhand or thrifted, but you took good care of it. He eyes the shelf containing your awards, dried flowers, and pictures with all the different groups and friends you’ve marched with. You’re more sentimental than you appear to be. Marching with these groups was no simple feat, but you looked back fondly at all the memories created. You know you’ll do the same for your university years too.

“Wish I could’ve done drum corps,” Jungkook sighs. If he was phased by whatever transpired moments ago, he doesn’t show it.

“Did you try out other groups?” You sit up, knees brought close to your chest. 

“Nah, I don’t think I’m good enough.”

Now, you initially thought there wasn’t anything remarkable about Jungkook’s drumming skills. But let’s be real … you didn’t read music nor play an instrument, so what did you know about drumming? What you do know is that Jungkook tried hard. He was more than capable of passing auditions and marching in drum corps. You’re sure of it. 

“You won’t know until you try.”

“Maybe,” he dismisses the thought with a nod. “Would’ve been nice to join two years ago and claim I was in the season where they had tenors drum upside down.”

“Yeah, I remember that,” you smile, “was pretty cool.”

“You’re the cool one for doing drum corps,” he praises, “did you do a lot of fundraising to pay for membership dues?”

You shake your head, “no, my parents did.”

“Nice of them to support you.” 

“Yeah, I guess?” You shrug, not sure how to reply, “they … never really came to my shows.”

Jungkook frowns, “why not?”

“Work? I don’t know … they just never made the time. I stopped asking them to come after a while, so I guess it’s my fault they don’t know my schedule.”

His eyes soften. You never realized how natural Jungkook was with affection and comfort. So natural in how he tugs at your wrist, lays you down with him on the couch, and cradles your cheek. 

“The way you perform … it’s an absolute privilege to watch you. They’re missing out.” He tells you with so much conviction, “Ma would argue you’re the only one worth watching.” He jokes.

“She’s cute.”

“A menace,” he corrects with a grin, “cause she should pay more attention to her son. But I get it, I’d watch you too.” Jungkook has a way of making you feel special. Like you mattered. Supported. Something you hoped you’d see from your parents in the past, but come to terms you’ll never receive. Now, it’s all coming in the form of Jungkook. And you don’t know what to do with all these emotions except feel guilty and apologetic for what took place moments ago.  

“I’m sorry about what I said about not wanting others to assume. It’s just …” 

“You don’t have to apologize, Juice. I understand where you’re coming from.”

Does he? It’s like him to be nice about it. You wouldn’t put it past Jungkook, but his words feel … withdrawn? Rehearsed? You’re unsure if you want to open this can of worms with him, let alone if he wanted to talk about it. Instead, you press a soft kiss on his lips, “thank you.”

He groans and pulls you into a hug, burying his face in the crook of your neck. “Are you tryna make me hard?”

“You’re so easy,” you laugh. 

“You’re telling me you don’t get turned on when we kiss?” He looks at you incredulously. 

You shake your head — a lie. “Nope, all you.” You say as one of your legs hook over his hip.

“I call bluff.” He kisses you, slow, tongue licking the seam of your lips. You lightly suck on his tongue and bite the bottom of his lips, giggling as he moans.

“Wanna check?” Feeling bold, your hand wraps around his wrist and leads it to your midsection, stopping just slightly above your shorts.

“Want me to?” He looks at you through hooded lids. 

“Yeah, I do,” you nod, “prove me wrong.” You let out a tiny gasp as his hand slips past your shorts. 

“Jungkook,” you whimper as his middle finger slips between your folds. The feeling of someone else’s hand other than your own has you feeling hot all over. Jungkook lets out a little wrecked noise before diving back to your lips for a messy kiss. His hand moves slowly, circling your clit, working out some of the prettiest moans.

“Liar,” he chuckles against your lips. His hand goes lower, fingers collecting your slick at your entrance before smearing it all over your clit. 

Your jaw goes slack when his fingers move faster. “N-no, I’m not.”

You feel the vibrations on your lips as he hums. “Think I need to see. Will you let me?”

Such a stupid bit you guys have going on, but you both play it so well. Your shorts and panties are tossed somewhere in your living room, bare ass hanging halfway off the couch. Jungkook kneels on the carpet floor, in an absolute trance. Whatever he’s fantasized in the last month will never compare. Simply spreads and pushes your legs further apart.

“Pretty,” he murmurs to himself. Not sure if he’s talking about you or your pussy; regardless, you smile at the compliment. 

“Done checking?” Your eyes move from his down to your wet pussy.

“Yeah. I guess I was wrong.” One of his hands moves to cup the side of your ass, parts your folds more. His thumb strokes up and down your slit, arousal apparent from your wetness.

“Told you.” You shut your eyes when you feel his thumb apply more pressure to your clit.

“So dry,” Jungkook watches you clench around nothing. “Think I gotta help you.” He lowers his head, cheeks hollow a little before he dribbles a glob of spit onto your bare cunt. You arch your back at the sensation of it trailing down your pussy. Jungkook’s face is centimeters away from your pussy, warm breath fanning over. He waits for your permission, places a delicate kiss on the side of your thigh, eyes never leaving yours. Your hand comes underneath your thigh to hold his hand during this intimate act. 

“Yeah, think so too. Need you to help me.”

Jungkook eats pussy like how he makes out. Hot. Pouty. Whimpery. It does something to your heart when he interlocks his hand with yours, thumb caressing your hand. Soft and soothing. So different from how he has his lips wrapped around your clit, licking and sucking ruthlessly. You let out a broken sob when he suddenly pries your legs further apart before fucking his tongue in you. He pauses in between to spit, uncaring of where it lands because he knows it’ll eventually mix with the rest of your slick. 

“Oh my god!” You shut your eyes, too overcome from the pleasure. 

“Is that good, baby?” Baby. You like that. You like it more knowing he asked that question to check in on you as if your reactions weren't a giveaway. Couldn’t possibly formulate a response in the time he goes back to your clit, head moving side to side. 

The pleasure builds and builds until you gasp. Body curling in and thighs locking Jungkook’s head in place, you cum. 

White splotches fill the back of your lids. Jungkook was absolutely entranced by your orgasm. He groans, eats you out sloppily just cause. You can only lay there and take everything he’s giving you, hand clutching his tighter when it gets too much. Jungkook finally lifts himself off you when your whimpers die down, marveling at your glistening sex. He was a sight to see: disheveled hair, red nose, and wet chin. 

“Wanna watch you cum again. Please?” His fingers circle your entrance.

You sigh prettily. “Come here.”

He obliges. Leans over your body with one of his hands still between your legs. You waste no time in pulling him down to a heated kiss, loving the taste of you on his tongue. The squelching noises intensify as you buck your hips into his hand. Drives you crazy that Jungkook hasn’t put his fingers in yet.

You pull away, “hear that?” You circle your hips. “You did that. Made me so wet — made me feel so good.”

“God, you’re so hot,” he moans, two fingers finally entering your pussy. He’s slow at first, mindful of your previous orgasm. Builds some speed once you pant into his mouth for more, fingers curling and letting the rise and drop of your hips do the work. 

“You’re creaming.” Like a new discovery only he could lay claim on. Like he didn’t know he could get you like this. Because truthfully, only he has ever gotten you like this. He stares at the mess between your legs, white coating his digits and seeping down your ass the more he thrusts. 

You can only whine and arch your back against the couch. That familiar feeling blooms in the pits of your stomach again. 

“I’m gonna—”

He nods, keeps the same speed and watches you with blown out pupils. Doesn’t know where to focus. Decides at the last moment that it should be your face and feels no regret when you cum a second time on his fingers.

“You’re so pretty.” He kisses you through your orgasm, shaking his head when you trail your hand down to his crotch. 

“Oh, you don’t want …?”

“Trust me, I’m more than good.” He pulls you up and giggles at your jello-state legs. 

You’re a little confused why he didn’t want you to return the favor, but decided it was best to brush it off. He helps locate your clothing and guides you into your bathroom to clean up. You back against the locked door, hands coming up to touch your face. Hot. Look over to the mirror and exhale at the sight. The afterglow looks good on you. There’s a drop to your shoulders and light in your irises. You look enamored. It’s all too soon to say, especially after multiple kisses and this one intimate moment … though, your chest swells with hope. Hope for more with Jungkook. 

In the time you spent freshening up, Jungkook pulled out a new router from his backpack he bought in secret earlier that day. Thirty minutes later, your connection and speed was infinitely better. 

“Let me pay you back for the router,” you say as Jungkook puts on his shoes at the doorway. Jungkook stands up and tugs on the strap of his backpack.

“Nah. Just write off the push-ups for the rest of the season whenever I drop the toss,” he smiles cheekily. 

“You wouldn’t have to do push-ups if you caught.” You scowl, “thank you again for the router. Saves me the trips to campus.” But it also meant you won’t have an excuse to study at Jungkook’s anymore. 

Jungkook surprises you with a quick kiss on your cheek.“You’re always welcomed over whenever you want. G’night, Cap.”

───── ♪ ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ♪ ───── 

Envy has a weird way of working. 

You remember it best with your parents choosing to go to your sibling’s sports games or when everyone in colorguard got to their splits way before you did. Just like how you’re feeling now, seeing Jungkook smile and joke with one of the cheerleaders after practice. It’s uncharacteristic of you to feel this way. You’ve never cared this much when you’ve witnessed past partners conversing with other people. 

You encouraged it. Felt secure. 

This was different.

“Yo, that’s the girl that Jungkook’s been talking to? Chaewon?” Jaehyun says in passing to another tenor player.

“I think so. Why?”

You don’t listen to the rest of the conversation. Rushing out the band room, your mind jumps back to all the times he’s stopped moving forward beyond making you feel good. Was it because he was already seeing someone else? It could only make sense if he wanted to be safe about it. Good that he’s thoughtful for all parties involved. Bad because you thought he liked you enough to have it only be you. 

You were right. It doesn’t hurt to prepare for hurt.

───── ♪ ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ♪ ───── 

Jungkook [5:04 p.m.]: hey! u left super early today. did u get home safe? Jungkook [8:31 p.m.]: ?? juice, u ok? You [10:15 p.m.]: Yes, I’m home.

1 Missed call from Jungkook

You [10:16 p.m.]: Sorry, studying atm. I’ll see you at practice tomorrow.

This back and forth goes on for the rest of the week. Jungkook tries to talk to you after practice, but you always seem to slip away at the last moment. The one-on-one practices have stopped because the show was as clean as it could get and all Jungkook needed to work on was catching. He could do that on his own. You gave him all the tools he needed to succeed.

You’d like to think that whatever you shared with Jungkook was just a moment of indulgence. Helped you nurse your pride and feelings. If you kept telling yourself that things were okay and how it should be, you’ll eventually believe it. Much like how you’ve accepted that you’ll never see your parents at one of your shows, you'll realize these feelings for Jungkook were also fleeting. Because it starts to look that way once Jungkook starts to back off trying to talk to you.

You had other things to focus on. Cleaning up your section, schoolwork, and raising enough donations for the Rehearsathon. Of course you fall short of the goal. It’s not a big deal, but you hate to be the person who didn’t look like they tried at all, especially coming from a leadership role.

Regardless, you come into Rehearsathon ready for the brutal twelve hours. Practice lasted three hours at max, twelve was overkill. By the end of it all, you were exhausted. Sore and ready to go home for a much needed hot shower.

“Nice work, band. With the money raised, I think it’s safe to say we’ll be getting new uniforms by the end of the month. Just in time for the exhibition show.” Director Lee continues his recap, “also, shout out to our top fundraisers: Toad, Jungkook, and Juicebox.”

Huh? You barely raised a little over 50 bucks … 20 of which came from yourself cause you felt awful showing up with just 30. Did everyone else just do poorly? 

Hoseok comes to you after everyone gets dismissed to pat you on the back.  “Very impressive to get the cheer team to donate that much.” Cheer team? You’re lost. You didn’t know anyone on that team, let alone solicited them to donate. The only person you knew that had connections with the cheer team was none other than Jungkook. But … why would their sponsorship be under you? 

It didn’t make sense.

“Jungkook.” You jog up to him. 

“Sup?” He’s never greeted you like this before, but it’s probably deserved since you’ve been avoiding him. Doesn’t sting any less. 

“My sponsors. You did that, didn’t you?”

He nods. “Yeah, I did.”

You shake your head, “you didn’t have to.”

“I know. I wanted to,” he shrugs.

You try to find the right words to say, but come short. You settle for a small ‘thank you.’ It’s all you can say before you turn the opposite direction. 

He doesn’t stop you. Doesn’t question why you haven’t been returning his calls or text messages. Your silence was an answer in itself. 

───── ♪ ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ♪ ───── 

Jungkook’s tosses and catches were inconsistent. On his good days, he’s able to stick his catch. Mostly during rehearsal. But come the halftime shows? He’s dropping. You can tell he’s frustrated. No one likes feeling like they dragged down the quality of a show. Some liked to be left alone to process their mistakes; you assumed Jungkook was the type to need extra comfort. You work up the courage to go to him, but see that Jimin has beaten you. Probably for the better. 

Jimin was great when it came to comforting others. In Jungkook’s case, it looked like Jimin was putting in the works. Has him miming a toss and doing a silly dance to show Jungkook how he tries to recover under a bad toss. Jungkook cracks a smile. Jimin transitions to his final move: back hug. You’ve also received those from Jimin before. It’s nice — not your preference after a rough show, but you appreciate the sentiment. Looks like Jungkook does too. Appears infinitely lighter.

The same cheerleader you saw a couple weeks ago, Chaewon, comes up to Jungkook too. Gives him a high five and a hug. And that was your cue to leave. You feel a little pathetic. All this because you don’t know what to do with your feelings for a boy.

───── ♪ ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ♪ ───── 

Exhibition day. 

Instruments loaded in the trailer, everyone was ready to hit the road. Whenever there was a far off site performance, Lee strung up his contacts to reserve fancy buses for the band. Yoongi theorizes it’s all for show to the prospective graduating high school seniors. He’s not complaining though. Far better to ride on some fancy buses than to coordinate carpool for over 200 band kids. 

“Is your high school going to be there, Juicebox?” Yuri stuffs her equipment underneath the bus compartment.

“No,” you shake your head, “they’re in another circuit.”

“Lucky, my school is going to be there. So I need to impress my underclassmen.” She holds her hands into a fist. You chuckle, pull the straps of your backpack higher on your shoulder as you step onto the bus.  

Colorguard preferred taking the back of the bus only cause it feels like you can do your hair and makeup in peace. Funnily enough, drumline also preferred the back too. Gives them space from the rest of the band when they drum together on the bus. Lucky for you, one of your girls secured the backseats. You volunteer to sit alone since there was an odd number of members in your section. If the drumline came to the back, you had a feeling Yoongi might swoop in to sit with you. He preferred a quieter seat partner despite having to lead some of the drumming sessions on the bus. 

“Is it okay if I sit here?”

There’s no need to look up. Even if you haven’t spoken to him in a couple weeks, you’d recognize that voice anywhere.

“Go ahead.” Who were you to stop him? 

Jungkook takes his seat, stuffs his bag underneath the seat in front of him, and places his drumsticks on his lap. He smells like coconut and shea butter — the same scent as the sunscreen you gifted him a while back. It’s sweet and warm — such a huge contrast to how you and Jungkook act towards each other now. Bitter and cold. 

“Alright,” Director Lee announces from the bus intercom. “About a 45 minute drive to the location. No bathroom breaks. If you gotta go, hold it or piss in a cup.” A bunch of band kids grimace and fake a retch from the comment. 

All you could think about is how you’ll be next to Jungkook for the next 45 minutes. The drummers get their rounds of drumming in, choosing to drum on the seats in front of them. You stare out the window, wishing for time to pass by quicker. His elbow brushes yours and time ceases to continue. Something lodges in your chest from the brief contact. You chastise your heart — so weak, so dumb, so fragile. Just because of a boy. 

As Director Lee says, you’ve got to tighten up.  

The drumming continues for another 20 minutes. Your section chatters behind you and Jungkook is turned to his own. Sometimes in a room full of people, or in this case … a bus, you still manage to find yourself feeling left out. You’ve got no one to blame but yourself. 

Eventually, the bus arrives at a lot filled with other school buses.

“You guys have 15 minutes to unload and meet at the practice field for warm up.” Director Lee announces. 

Row after row, people file out of the bus. When it was Jungkook’s turn to get up, he stays seated. He motions the folks behind him to go first, bending down to his backpack to get something. Everyone was now outside the bus … minus you and Jungkook.

He sighs. “How long are we going to keep doing this?” Jungkook leans back on his seat, 

“Doing what?”

“Pretend like what we had didn’t happen.”

“Don’t know what you’re talking about,” you stand up, one of your hands land on the seat in front to support yourself as you wait for Jungkook to move.

“Come on, Juice,” he pleads, “this is ridiculous.”

“I’m glad you agree,” your knee pushes at his leg to get to the aisle.

“Was it something I did?” Jungkook’s voice softens, “I would never do something you weren’t okay with …” 

“Jungkook.” You look at the front of the bus. Thankfully, no one was there, “I was okay with everything we did, well—no, I mean,” you shift uncomfortably as you try to find the right words. He cocks his head to the side with furrowed brows.

You feel your resolve waver. There hasn’t been a second in the day where you don’t think about him. Week after week, you jump between feeling sad, betrayed, and embarrassed. He’d even pop up in your dreams to remind you that even when you weren’t awake, he’s still very much present in your subconscious. Perhaps talking to the source of your problems could help. 

“We can talk about it after the show. There’s not enough time.” You were being honest. Know that everyone is on crunch time now that you’ve all reached the performance site. 

“Okay.” He’d have no other choice but to accept. He gets up and moves to the side. You push away that bitter feeling in your chest. It’s show day. Jungkook eventually emerges out the bus a couple minutes after you do. 

“You okay, JB?” Yoongi hauls his drum from the trailer and moves out of the way for the other members to get their instruments.

“Yeah,” you lie, “just pre-show nerves.” 

Yoongi doesn’t buy it. Realized you and Jungkook were the last ones to get off the bus. Felt the shift between the two of you these couple of weeks. He also notices how Jungkook looks over at you. Something must’ve happened, but he’s not going to push for answers right before a show. 

“Kids these days …” he murmurs to himself.

───── ♪ ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ♪ ───── 

High school marching band competitions were overstimulating. Overfilled bathroom stalls, different music playing, and the scent of kettle corn … makes you nostalgic. The rush of being on a field again. Other good, if not better, colorguard you’d meet from all over the country. The award ceremony. The comradery. Maybe you have one more season left in you to do drum corps in the summer. 

For now, you’re lined up at the front of the main field. Everyone is all warmed up and ready to perform. 

Showtime. Director Lee takes over the stadium microphone to introduce the marching band and Hoseok signals everyone to march down the field into position. The show goes smoothly. During the performance, the audience erupts with cheers at every musical feature and toss. Jungkook catches. The band was an absolute hit.

“Oh my god, we rocked out there!” Jimin drops the handful of equipment he picked up on the field. Everyone gives each other high fives and pats on the back. 

“I second that,” Director Lee comes around with his megaphone. “Nice work, band. We have an hour to reload. Do as you like till it’s call time.”

Equipment and instruments loaded up, you and another guard member walk to the concession stands for some kettle corn. While waiting in line, she gets pulled away by some old classmates from high school. Honestly, you didn’t even want kettle corn, but you weren’t ready to face Jungkook just yet. In the midst of your thoughts, someone calls your name. You freeze.

“I thought I recognized you from the stands. Long time no see.” 

A voice and face you long to forget: Wooyoung. Your high school ex.

You step back, unsure how to avoid this interaction. He smiles. To any other person, it’d come off as friendly. To you? Slimy. Icky. You feel more cornered when he opens his arms for a hug. When you don’t lean into it, he pulls you in for one.

“You were great out there. Improved a lot since your freshman year.” He places his hand on your shoulder.

“Thanks,” you reply. Your gaze locked on the object in front of you. A badge that read: YBHS Asst. Band Director.

He notices your stare. “Yeah, I never really left the marching band scene post college. Just kept calling my name.” You don’t like the way he scans your body. The corners of his lips fight to stay neutral. Part of you feels sad for your younger self — didn’t know better than to mistake his lust for interest and adoration.

“Say, if you’re free after the competition, we should get some drinks together and catch up. The school I’m teaching is looking for a dance tech—”

“No, I’m not looking to teach.” You immediately decline. Getting paid to do what you loved sounded tempting, but why subject yourself to torture being employed by the same man that fucked you over? “Thanks for the offer, but I need to go back with the band.” You step back. 

Ignoring your decline, Wooyoung tries again. “We should catch up though. I don’t mind taking you back if you’re worried about a ride home.”

“No thank y-”

“Juice.” You’ve never been more relieved to hear someone call you by that nickname.

Jungkook stands beside you. Saw you looking uncomfortable from afar and it was instinctive to come over despite whatever was going on between you two. By no means was he a confrontational or violent person, but he’s protective of those he cares about. And he cares deeply about you. No doubt about that.

“Lee said he needed us back at the bus.” There’s plenty of time left, but you’re thankful for an opening to leave. 

“Sorry, I’ve gotta go.”

“Aw, can’t spare a couple more minutes for an old friend?” Be it his ego or his inability to read the room, Wooyoung doesn’t back down. This doesn’t surprise you. What surprised you was Jungkook’s hand wrapped around yours. Possessive. Alert.

“Come on, we’re gonna be late,” Jungkook says.

“Oh? Boyfriend?” Wooyoung eyes your interlocked hands. 

“Uh-”

“Yep,” the lie rolls off his tongue effortlessly. You nearly believe it too, “and you are …?”

“Wooyoung. I teach at one of the high schools in this circuit,” he chuckles, “I’m assuming you both march at the same university?”

“We do.” Jungkook answers on your behalf again.

“Cute. Well, I won’t keep you two,” Wooyoung turns to you. “It was nice seeing you again. Hit me up on Facebook if you’re interested in the tech position or if you just want to catch up.”

Before you know it, you and Jungkook are headed back to the direction of the bus. He's still holding your hand, weaving both of you through the crowds. 

“Jungkook,” you say, nearly tripping over your steps to meet his long strides. He lets go of your hand and faces you.

“Was that your ex?”

Your silence confirms the answer.

“Why’d you let him walk all over you like that?”

“I was fine.”

“You were clearly uncomfortable. Had I not stepped in-”

“I didn’t ask for your help, Jungkook.”

“You didn’t,” he steps back, “and I know that. I just … I wanted to.”

“Why?”

“Isn’t it obvious? I care about you ... we’re friends.”

But friends don’t look at each other like the way Jungkook does with you. A friend’s touch doesn’t make you yearn for more. It doesn’t hurt when they call you a friend.

“We’re not friends.” Guilt seeps through you the moment those words leave your lips. Jungkook runs his hand down his face and exhales a small humorless laugh. It comes out mocking with a hint of bitterness.

“But Wooyoung is?”

That hits a sore spot. He realizes his mistake when your face falls. “Juice,” his voice softens, “I didn’t mean it like that-”

“Just like how you’re friends with Chaewon?”

He pauses. Confusion plastered on his face. Your shoulder bumps into his arm as you walk past him and towards the bus. It takes less than a second for him to catch up to you. Calls your name. Gets ignored. 

“What’s that supposed to mean? What does Chaewon have to do with any of this?” With some band members lining up to board the buses, Jungkook’s voice was loud enough to catch their attention. The last thing you want is people speculating.

“Can we do this another time?” You say through gritted teeth. 

Another time? He’s been waiting to talk to you, but you keep blowing him off. He doesn’t know when he’ll be granted this opportunity again, let alone whether you’ll keep your words. But you look uncomfortable and as much as he’d like to air out his grievances, he holds himself back from making a bigger scene.

He sighs in resolve and lets you queue in line for the bus. In the bus, you expected Jungkook to sit right next to you. Gets surprised when Yoongi plops down next to you. You scan the area and realize Jungkook is a couple rows in front. He doesn’t look back at you. Doesn’t come back for his belongings underneath the seat. 

“Whatever is going on between you and Jungkook needs to be fixed. You’re better than this.” He sighs. 

Yoongi was never one to lecture you. Not because he doesn’t feel like he can’t, but because you’ve always had your shit together. Haven’t seen you act like this before. So … juvenile, immature, and unreasonable. Perhaps he was wrong to think that things would work between you and Jungkook. The bus ride back to the campus was quiet. Going home always felt like a shorter ride in comparison to going to the performance site. Wished it took longer. 

The bus comes to a full stop at the front of the school and everyone immediately gets out row by row. Yoongi gets up once it’s your row’s turn. “Wait, Yoongi,” you point at Jungkook’s bag at the bottom of the seat.

“You can give it to him, JB.” It’s not a demand, merely a matter of fact. You don’t argue back. Percussion is typically last to unload all their instruments back into the band room, so you’re stuck waiting for Jungkook till he’s done.

One by one, your colorguard members leave to go home, bidding you farewell. They don’t question why you’re staying behind, just assume that you have some business you have to see through with the director or other section leaders. It’s late and they just want to be in bed. So do you. But you wait, because it’s what you should do. You owe this to Jungkook at the very least.

Thirty minutes go by and Jungkook finally emerges from the band room. He smiles and waves goodbye to his section. When he sees you with his bag, his expression morphs into something close to disbelief. Walks up to you quickly and takes it out of your hand.

“Could’ve told Yoongi to give it to me,” he frowns. 

“Trust me, I tried,” you sigh, “but I promised we would talk.”

His lips presses into a thin line. It’s late, but if the talk doesn’t happen now, he doesn’t know when it will. 

“Did you want to talk at the dorms?” He asks. 

You internally debate whether it was a good idea to be in an enclosed area with Jungkook. Sure, it offered some privacy, but you felt more exposed. More vulnerable. Limits your likelihood of running away. Doesn’t take you long to make a decision, opting to talk at his dorm after a cold breeze passes through. It’s been a couple of weeks since you’ve been there. You wonder if anything has changed. Yet, you’re greeted by the same blue bedsheets, detergent, and all too clean of a desk space. Nothing’s changed, except for the two people in there.

Jungkook sits on the floor and you follow. You clear your throat, unable to make eye contact with Jungkook now that you’re in front of him. No more avoiding the inevitable. 

“What’s been going on?” He asks carefully. “Talk to me, please?”

You chew on your bottom lip, unsure of where to start.

“Was it something I did?” He asks again. 

Another moment of silence ensues. “Juice-”

“We shouldn’t have done what we did.” You’re sure this was the right thing to say, but it doesn’t hurt any less. 

“What do you mean?” His voice comes out small.

“I shouldn’t have entertained any of that. It wasn’t right.” That really drove it home. Nail on the coffin. Stings more when you look up and see the hurt plastered on Jungkook’s face.

Yoongi told you to fix things, but it seems impossible when you’re only capable of making things worse. Especially with how he closes his eyes and looks away. You’ve prepped your heart for this moment. Though, this is Jungkook. The boy who willingly volunteered to step into a position no one else would, the boy who’s been vying for your attention and got it, the boy with a smile so warm that you think you’d have trouble forgetting even across multiple universes. 

That’s what scares you. Whatever he says next will hurt. 

“Do you regret it?” Jungkook asks with downcast eyes. You rest your face into your palm. It’s a yes or no question deserving of a yes and no answer. For that, you couldn’t answer right away. 

“I didn’t. Not once.” He answers truthfully, “but if you regret it, I really am sorry.” Jungkook looks at you with those round, apologetic eyes. 

You almost cave. Almost. 

“I just … thought we had something special. I was wrong to assume.” He says. 

You did have something special with Jungkook. He wasn’t wrong. 

Jungkook continues, “I hope we can remain friends, but I get it if you don’t want to.”

Friends. This irked you. 

“Is that what you say to people you’ve slept with?”

“What?” He retracts his head back in confusion. “Where’s this coming from?”

There’s no going back now.

“Chaewon.” You straighten up from your seated position, “there’s also something special between you two, right?”

You sound bitter. You hate it. Hate how he looks … so exposed. So incriminating. 

Jungkook quickly shakes his head.

“You wouldn’t let me touch you. Was it because you were still sleeping with her?”

“No! I—”

“—It’s fine if you were. We weren’t anything,” wrong, he was something to you, still is, “but—”

“It’s not like that,” he interrupts, but you press on, fully on autopilot now. 

“—I’m not someone’s backup, I don’t do casual. The least you could’ve done was tell me. If you had any respe—”

The words die on your tongue when Jungkook says your name. Your actual name. You don’t realize how heavy you’re breathing. And Jungkook? Upset is an understatement. 

“I did have something with Chaewon,” he begins. 

You scoff. 

“In our first-year. Things ended because … well, I caught feelings,” he admits with a hint of shame, “I don’t do casual either. I just didn’t realize she did.”

Oh.

“But you’re still …?”

He shakes his head no. “We’re not like that anymore, I swear.”

“Doesn’t explain why you wouldn’t let me touch you,” you murmur, head turned away in embarrassment. 

Jungkook frowns. “It’s not that I don’t want you to. Intimacy just kinda fucks with my head and heart … after what happened with Chaewon, I just …” His voice trails, “I didn’t want to rush and mess things up with someone I care about. Seems like it still happened anyway.” Jungkook scoots closer, knees now touching yours. “Is that what this is about?”

Jungkook cocks his head to meet your eyes, but you keep your head turned away. “Hey, come on. Look at me.”

And when you finally do look at him, you’re met with light and warmth — something you don’t know if you deserve after all the mess your mind created. He hesitates, but trails his fingers against yours. Testing the waters. Jungkook takes it as a sign to hold your hand when you don’t retract. Even with his calloused hands from years of drumming, you feel the tenderness in his touch.

“I never intended to hurt you or make you feel bad,” his voice laced with sincerity, “I’m sorry.”

Jungkook was right. Intimacy does fuck with your head and heart. Made you think irrationally, abandoning all logic for the sake of protecting your heart and pride. Ridiculous that he’s the one apologizing. 

“No,” you shake your head. “I should’ve come to you about it. I’m sorry.” Your eyes water at the admittance.

“Aw, hey, don’t cry …” Jungkook cups your cheek with his other hand.

You sniffle, quickly blinking away the tears because you’re stubborn — not a fan of people witnessing you cry. Instead, you press your cheek into his palm. Missed his touch — missed him.

It’s a little uncoordinated how he pulls you onto his lap, but when you’re seated on him and your head is resting in the crook of his neck, it feels like coming home. There’s a specific scent that clings onto his skin after a long day of being under the sun — slight musk mixed with sunscreen and his cologne. Familiar and comforting. You wonder if he’s just as attached to your scent as you are with his.

“You still haven’t answered my question though …” he swallows, “do you regret it?”

“No,” you shake your head, voice coming out small, “never regretted anything we’ve done.” 

“Do you … regret us?” He asks. 

You shake your head again. You know you said some hurtful things a while ago. Wish you could take it all back. Can’t seem to muster the courage to tell Jungkook that he’s been the best thing that’s happened to you all season, but you try in your own way.  

Torso turned awkwardly and arms sewn around his neck, you hold him. It takes a second for Jungkook to react, body tense and unsure if he’s allowed to embrace you. You exhale, something akin to relief, and he feels it too. Jungkook holds you just as tightly. Tucks himself into your neck and kisses into your hair. Whispers how much he’s missed you and jokes about how foolish you both are — just two enamored fools.

───── ♪ ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ♪ ───── 

The day after that night, Jungkook unfollowed Chaewon on all his social media platforms, not before sending a quick message how he no longer wanted to stay friends. You hope it wasn’t because of you. Sure, you had your moments of insecurity about Jungkook and Chaewon and don’t know exactly what transpired between them, but you thought it was a bit excessive to cut someone off cold turkey. But Jungkook had his reasons … reasons for which he’s not ready to talk about just yet. You trusted him and you’ll wait. If he thought this was for the better, you’ll stand by his decision.

The season was nearly over. You’re also over at Jungkook’s a lot, vice versa — made his room a second home. He reserves a section of his nightstand just for your bobby pins and hair ties … no different from your desk chair with a pile of his sleep shirts.

It’s the evening after an ensemble practice and he’s laid between your legs, bare back against your torso. Nothing sexual, just appreciating your company while he drums a random beat on his chest. The warmth of his body feels good on yours, like a heated and weighted blanket all at once. You mindlessly run your fingers in his hair, occasionally earning a shudder from Jungkook if your nails made contact with his scalp. 

“Next week’s our last show,” he mutters.

From your position, you notice Jungkook’s pout. Your hand comes to a stop. “You sad?” 

“A little. Season’s been tough, wanna end it on a good note.”

Part of you wonders if he was talking about the show or his time with you. Both could be true.

“You will,” you wrap your arms around his shoulders and give him a reassuring squeeze, “is your family going to be there?”

Jungkook smiles fondly. “Yeah, they are.”

“Good. That’ll be enough incentive for you to catch this time,” you tease. 

“Yah,” he turns, chin propped at your sternum, “I don’t need incentives to do well.”

“Really?” You tilt your head. “That’s not what you said before practice today. ‘One kiss, please? I swear I’ll stick the catch.’” You do your best pleading eyes, but nothing can beat the real deal.

His eyes narrow, lips curving into a playful smile. “You got me.”

Jungkook lays his cheek down on your chest, hesitates with his next words. “How about you though? Is your family going to be there?” He knows family is an uncomfortable topic for you. Hell, talking about hard topics in general was difficult. These days, you’re doing better at communicating your feelings. Jungkook makes it easy — makes the uncomfortable feel comfortable. 

“Didn’t invite them, so probably not,” you shrug.

“Wouldn’t it be nice to have them there?”

“Maybe …”

Jungkook thinks you’re so pretty when you’re in deep thought. Brows furrowed, lips pressed together in a thin line. There’s that dimple on the right side of your cheek that only appears when you do that. He’s sure you’re not even aware of its existence. Always been so captivated by you. Built this version of you in his head all these years and you’ve shattered every one of his assumptions in just one season. He's gotten to know different sides of you — like when you’re assertive, insecure, caring, angry, sweet … just, you.

“But I don’t need incentives, unlike someone I know.” You smirk.

He likes to entertain all your sides, but this was his favorite — the side that likes to tease. His body shifts, so does yours as you sink your head deeper into his pillow. 

“I think you’re getting it mixed up, Cap,” Jungkook hovers over your body, nose touching yours, “incentives make me work harder knowing there’s something to look forward to. As much as I love performing for a big audience,” his lips brushes the corner of your mouth, “it’s more special when there’s someone you know watching.”

“Right?” His breath fans over your lips.

You’re not arguing with a man whose eyes competed with stars. Instead, choosing to accept his words because he’s right … just on this occasion. Because all you want is for him to press his lips to yours.

And Jungkook does that.

Drives him crazy when you get all breathless and whiny against his lips. True to his words, he’s been good with taking it slow with you. Sticks to kissing for now because he fears that he won’t be able to get himself out of the deep end if he reaches to that point of intimacy. Took forever with Chaewon, so he doesn’t know how he’ll fare with you … someone he really likes.

But fuck, you make it hard — make him hard. You gasp and pull away slightly when he accidentally grinds himself against your core. Jungkook shudders and mumbles his apologies, lips finding yours again. 

You shake your head. “‘s okay,” you kiss his cheek, “you good?”

“Trying to be,” he swallows and chuckles.

“You don’t have to try to be,” you peer at him through your lashes, “you are good.” 

You make the uncomfortable feel comfortable too. Kisses you again tenderly and lets his body relax momentarily. 

“Can I be honest with you?”

You nod. “Always.”

“When we had that fall out … it was after we got intimate. I’m worried about that happening again.”

“Oh, Kook,” your stomach sinks at the confession. 

“I don’t wanna feel that way with you,” one of his hands cup your cheek, “I trust you.”

“I trust you too. We don’t have to rush into sex to prove anything.” You turn your head to kiss his palm.

He knows. But he wants this badly — wants you. His hard length pressed against you is enough proof. Sensing his turmoil, you push yourself up, making him sit back on his heels.

One of your hands holds his. “You trust me, yeah?”

Jungkook nods, eyes sincere and honest. You lay your back against his headboard, legs spread wide enough to accommodate another person in between. No brainer, a perfect spot for Jungkook.

“Turn around and lay down,” you pat your chest.

Jungkook does just that, no questions asked. He’s right back where he started this evening: between your legs. Except now, there’s a light wave of anticipation floating in the air.

“What do you have in mind?” His voice drops an octave lower.

“Shh,” you hand cups his chin so that your lips could meet his temple. “I got you.” Truthfully, you didn’t know what you were doing. You only wanted to make him feel good, just as he’s done for you.

“You’re always helping others. So attentive,” one of your hands trails down his abdomen, “so good.”

At your praise, Jungkook sinks his teeth down on his lips. 

“Think you deserve to be rewarded for that. Don’t you?” You ask. His hand wraps around your wrist, unsure whether to have you continue or stop.

“Wanna make you feel good,” your hand stops just shy of his belly button, thumb rubbing against his skin, “please?”

He releases a little moan, cock twitching in his shorts. You run your hand between his legs, gentle in the way you let yourself trace over his cloth length. Jungkook tips his head back for a second and immediately looks back down again, afraid he might miss out on what’s yet to come.

“God,” he keens, stomach tightening with every fleeting touch.

“Do you want me to stop?” You whisper into his ear. Simple question calls for a simple answer. Jungkook presents his answer in the form of a tilt to his head, whispering a silent plea for you to kiss and continue touching him.

The angle of the kiss is a bit off, gets Jungkook a little giggly, but he quiets down the moment your fingers fumble at the waistband of his shorts. His chest stutters, both hands coming down to help you pull the front of his shorts to expose his hard cock.

Jungkook’s size was always a dead giveaway. Thank god for his obsession with grey sweats. You didn’t think he was this big. Arousal pools between your legs. Wonder if it’d stroke his ego knowing your mind was filled with images of how he’d stretch you out, sink inside you, and fuck you to the hilt.

But nevermind that. This was about him and making him feel good.

Jungkook lets out a needy moan when your hand wraps around his cock. You give it a tiny squeeze and hum at the sight of his precum leaking from his slit. You let go all too soon, and just as he was about to accuse you of teasing him, he hears you spit into your hand. 

“Baby ...” His chest heaves when you run your wet hand down his shaft again. 

Jungkook was right. It is more special when there’s someone you know watching. Inspires you to perform. To make him feel good. To ignite a reaction, letting you know he enjoys what you’re doing. 

He lets you have your way with his body. Pants and shivers when your other hand plays with his nipple. Doesn’t know where to fucking focus because you’re everywhere all at once and he loves every moment of it.

“Fuck, you’re gonna make me cum,” His eyes lock at the sight before him: your pretty hand wrapped around his hard length covered in both spit and precum.

“Yeah? Go on,” you coax, “you deserve it.” You understand what he means by incentives. Because it motivates you to work harder to draw out his moans, stroke faster then randomly slow down to tease him, and purr sweet nothings into his ears. Makes you fight the arm cramp just to see his eyes flutter shut. Makes you ignore the pleasure pangs hitting your own core just so you can witness his orgasm. Because you want to so badly make him feel good. 

“That’s it, so close,” you encourage.

“C-cumming,” Jungkook pants, he digs his head back into your shoulders, “I’m cumming.” You watch the thick ropes of cum paint his torso. Jungkook’s body shakes and withers from pleasure. You let go of his cock and you trail your fingers up his stomach to collect his cum. 

He watches with bated breath as you stick your tongue out for an experimental lick. A bit heady for your liking, but who eats cum for the sake of taste? This is all for Jungkook. His fucked out expression was enough reason for you to push your cum coated fingers into your mouth and suck them clean. 

“Oh my god,” he groans, turning around to pin you down on his mattress. “You’re so hot.” Doesn’t think twice when he slots his lips to yours, moans muffled at the taste of him on your tongue.

“Made me feel so good,” another peck to seal the deal. “Thank you.” Post nut clarity usually made people run for the hills. Jungkook? Basks in your company and affection. Trusts you with his body and so he naturally trusts you with his heart. 

He hopes it’s the same for you.

Words aren’t needed to express how you feel for Jungkook. It’s evident in how your expressions change the more you kiss. How your nose feels against his cheek when you nod for him to touch you. How it doesn’t take long for you to fall apart from his fingers.

Jeon Jungkook knows it’s the same for you.

───── ♪ ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ♪ ───── 

Last game of the season also meant the last performance of the season. You’re warming up with your guard. Nothing too serious since you don’t like to be tired out before a performance.

“Hey, Cap?” Jimin says mid stretch. “There are a couple of folks behind that keep staring in our direction. You know them?”

It’s a sight you weren’t expecting. Your family. Your parents and brother. Not like you don’t see them often. You call home sometimes. Visits happened towards the end of the semester, so you’d never expect to see them on campus mid-semester… especially your own. 

You jog over to them.

“Hey, what are you guys doing here?” You ask breathlessly. 

“To see you perform, duh.” Your brother rolls his eyes.

“Uh … but this is-”

“One of your classmates messaged me on Facebook a day ago telling me it’s a very special performance. Honestly, I wished I got the invite from my daughter, but here we are,” your mother exasperates, foot tapping on the ground.

Sensing a bit of awkwardness, your father adds, “we just wanted to say hi and good luck, honey. We’ll be in the stands.” He points in the direction of the stadium. 

“Oh, okay, um, thank you. I’ll see you all later?” You walk back to your section, confused, but there was something else. Excitement? Disbelief? Maybe all of the above.

“You okay?” Jimin asks while gathering his equipment.

You look over to where Jungkook was warming up with drumline. “Yeah. Yeah, I think so.”

───── ♪ ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ♪ ───── 

Director Lee is a man of traditions and rituals. Doesn’t like splitting poles because he thinks it’s bad luck. He also made it a tradition to announce every fourth year’s name to the stadium as the band file to their spot for the last performance of the season. Think of it as an informal send off. Gets the entire band a little emotional before the show.

You feel a lot. The nearly filled stands. Your family in those very stands. Jungkook. The fourth-years. All the practices, mistakes, and injuries led you up to this moment. 

Hoseok salutes to the audience and the stadium quiets down when he turns back to the band. Even from far away, you can feel his presence. It’s commanding, ready to lead.  

And that’s what Hoseok does. Everything blurs when the music starts. It’s all muscle memory. The cheers for the flag and music features fuels the entire band to perfection.

Despite your confusion about your family, they’re here, watching you. 

The stadium erupts in cheers at the end of the performance. You’re the first to break formation to hug your guard members. You remain smiling as you walk off the field, eyes catching a glimpse of Jungkook’s mother waving at him. Your eyes scan for your family. When you finally spot them, they’re all seated and clapping. Your mother’s approving nod doesn’t go unnoticed. There’s a stark difference to the support Jungkook receives from his family. 

As imperfect as your family’s affection and support may be, it fills your heart with a type of warmth you’ve yet to experience till now.

───── ♪ ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ♪ ───── 

Director Lee’s traditions spanned to post-performance pizza following the senior plaques he’d hand out. New section leaders were also selected. Director Lee knew at a glance who had leadership potential, but he’s always watching throughout the season in preparation for his departing section leaders. 

Jungkook only ever cared about the pizza. Not that he never saw himself as a leader, but he knew there was always someone better fit for the job. This year? Screw the pizza. Screw the new leader. Okay, well, no, he hopes they’re a good pick. At the moment, that’s the least of his concerns.

“So like … are you gonna eat that?” Jimin eyes the untouched pizza on Jungkook’s plate. Jungkook wordlessly passes his plate over to Jimin, far too immersed in the conversation you were having with Yoongi a couple feet away. 

He knows he overstepped by sending that message to your mother. Should’ve respected your decisions … or lack thereof.

You walk toward the front door, look over in his direction, and give him a subtle nod. Doesn’t need to be told twice — Jungkook springs up on his feet and adjusts his bibber.

“Where ya goin’?” Jimin asks Jungkook with a mouthful.

“Bathroom,” Jungkook replies quickly. 

“Well, hurry up. Lee is doing awards and section leader announcements soon.”

“Right. Yeah. Okay,” he answers distractedly, too focused on the direction you’re headed in.

Jungkook was on a mission. He got his apology rehearsed in his head. Follows closely behind you as you head up the stairs to the storage room. Honestly? Wouldn’t have been his first choice to chat here. For one, creepy. Two, dusty as hell. But he’ll go where you go. 

When the door shuts behind him, you turn on your heel to face him. Even with the dim lighting, Jungkook still finds your glittery show makeup beautiful — you’re beautiful. Crushes his soul a little bit when you frown … he’s ready for a round of scolding, so he’ll try to beat you to it.

“I know what I did was out of line. I just th—mmph-” The apology he rehearsed for the past hour dies on his lips as you pull him down for a searing kiss. Your hands untangle from the straps of his bibber to wrap around his neck.

“You’re so annoying,” you say in between kisses. Your words don’t exactly match your actions. You bite down on his lower lip, enough pressure to draw out a tiny hiss turned moan. Jungkook backs you against the wall and knocks over a couple of boxes with flag silks. He’s quick to remedy it with promises to clean it up in favor of kissing you.

The storage room was a bit stuffy … probably loaded with a bunch of asbestos, but it just might be Jungkook’s favorite place at the moment. Just when he thinks all is well and forgiven, you pull away with a glare.

“Don't think you’re off the hook.”

“Wait, huh?”

“JB! You in here?” Yoongi calls from below. 

Yoongi makes his way up the stairs, steps slow and sluggish. You can’t tell if it’s due to his lack of energy or if he’s giving himself enough time to not walk into something he doesn’t want to see. Regardless, it buys you some time. You and Jungkook have never moved so fast. Him, hiding behind a rack of retired uniforms. You, inconspicuously folding the discarded flag silks on the ground. 

“Yep, in here!” You peek your head to the side to see Yoongi lean at the railing. 

“Lee wants everyone in the band room. Doing announcements soon.”

“Okay, I’ll be there soon.”

Yoongi stands in place for a moment, snorts before he makes his way downstairs again.

“Need you there too, Kook.” Yoongi says, loud enough for you both to hear. Your head snaps in Jungkook’s direction and you can’t bring yourself to stay angry at the view: his fluffy hair and beat up converse high tops on full display. 

“Whoops,” Jungkook emerges from the racks with a boxy smile.

“Come on, let’s go back.” You say, swiping away the red tint off his lips. Preen him a little. Not trying to hide anything, but you wanted to look presentable for announcements — it’ll be an important one. 

“Shouldn’t we address the elephant in the room?” He nervously chews on his lips. 

You shake your head and hold out your hand. “It can wait. I have dinner plans with my family later … meet me at my place afterwards?”

“Okay … but like, are we good?”

“Maybe.” You shrug and purse your lips. 

Maybe? No, that won’t fly by with Jungkook. Thought you guys were past this whole miscommunication stage of your guys’ relationship. He needs that extra reassurance. Figured he won’t get that till after your family dinner … doesn’t stop him from playing out the possible scenarios in his head as Director Lee goes through his announcements.

People are clapping on and off. Again, doesn’t matter to him.

“Jungkook? Hellooooo?” Yoongi waves his hand in front of him.

“Huh, wha … sorry, what’d I miss?” Jungkook shakes himself out of his trance. 

“Welcome back to earth, Space Cadet.” Director Lee huffs. A bunch of band members snickers from the comment, his section included. 

“You’re the new percussion section leader, Space Cadet.” Yoongi grins. 

He should be celebrating. It’s a feat and honor to become a section leader. He knows nothing about it, but he’s got great role models, so he’s got a good foundation and baseline for what a good leader should look like. Only issue? Jungkook thought he’d been lucky to evade the nickname curse. Now he’s stuck with one … and a not so great one at that.

He looks for you in the room. Spots you instantly and you throw a tiny thumbs up and a teasing smile in his direction. 

You mouth: Congrats, Spacey.

Maybe the new nickname isn’t so bad after all.

───── ♪ ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ♪ ───── 

Dinner with your family was okay. There wasn’t much to chat about other than your father asking if you are continuing ‘this’ after graduating. 

“We’re just wondering. Eventually you’ll have to put work first,” your mother reasons. “Your body won’t be able to keep up as you age.”

You know it’s said with care and concern, but you can’t help but feel like you’re being lectured for doing something unconventional. God forbid you be happy with activities outside of a typical 9 to 5. The conversation moves over to your brother and what he’s been doing. You’re thankful the attention is off you for now. You’d much rather be home with a particular drummer anyway. 

You [8:39 p.m.]: I’ll be home in about 30 mins.  Jungkook 🥁 [8:39 p.m.]: ok, be safe. see u later ❤️

You smile down at your phone. Yes, you were still upset and made it a known fact to Jungkook. Hated seeing him confused, but that’s life. He'll have to sit with the consequences of his actions.

Kind of like how you have to sit through this dinner.

───── ♪ ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ♪ ───── 

Jungkook arrives at your doorstep about four minutes after you get home. In his hands were a dozen of sunflowers he picked up after Director Lee dismissed the band. Thought it would help his case a little. It does. You accept them with a smile and step to the side to let him in.

“Pretty,” he compliments. You look down at the simple sundress you put on for dinner. Realize Jungkook has only seen you in t-shirts and athletic wear. Though, you could be in a potato sack and he’d still find you lovely. 

“Thank you.”

He follows you to your couch. Usually he likes to sit right next to you, but thinks space is what you’d prefer for this type of conversation. He had plenty of time to reevaluate his actions in the shower and even more time while he waited for your text to come over.  

“I truly am sorry. I shouldn’t have gone behind your back. Just thought they should come out and support you.”

You sigh and place the flowers on your coffee table. 

“How’d you even find my mother?” You ask.

“Um, it wasn’t that hard to sift through your friends list. Plus, there’s not a lot of middle aged women that you look like. Could’ve passed as your older sister, honestly.”

“Funny,” you smile, “she’d love to hear that.”

“Score.” Jungkook grins.

You mindlessly play with the fringes on your dress, unsure what to say next. 

Jungkook reads you perfectly as always. “What’s up? You okay?”

“Just have a lot on my mind.” You fold your hands in your lap. 

“I get it,” he nods. 

“I don’t think you do.” You pause, chewing on your lips before you continue. “The show, offering me a place to study, the sponsors, Wooyoung, and now my family …” you recount, “you keep doing these things for me.”

Jungkook frowns, “do you not want me to?” 

You shake your head. “It’s not that I don’t want you to. I’m just not used to it.” You’re not used to being taken care of nor understood. It’s always been like this. With your family, friends, even some of the folks you’ve marched with in the past. But in the time you’ve gotten to know Jungkook, that’s all he’s given you.

Feels like he knows what you need better than you do sometimes. Feels like he does things out of care and not obligation.

It’s not a feeling anymore when he pulls you onto his lap, resting his chin on top of your head.  

“I know you’re capable of doing everything and more, Juice. But unless you don’t want me to, I’ll always want to help you,” he says. 

You nod, fingers playing with the ends of his shirt. “I know, and I appreciate that. It’s just hard letting go,” you shrug.

“Of what?”

“Control?” 

He chuckles, “you don’t say, Cap.”

You roll your eyes, “you’re a section leader now too.”

“Ah, that, I am,” he agrees, “means we’ll be working together more. You gonna give me a hard time?”

“Ask Yoongi.”

Jungkook laughs and holds you closer. He clears his throat, “need to make sure, though … am I forgiven?”

“Wasn’t that upset, Kook.” If you were truly mad at Jungkook, you wouldn’t have kissed him back in the storage room. “But yes, you’re forgiven. No more messaging my mother on Facebook though. She thought you were a bot for some reason.”

“Huh? I don’t know why she’d think that …” Jungkook pulls out his phone to show you the message thread.

The first line read: To Whom It May Concern … 

“This screams scam, Kook.” You snicker, skimming through the well-thought out message. Punctuated perfectly and straight to the point. What a stark difference to the silly text messages you receive from him on the daily. Could barely tell it’s him. The only glaring similarity? Jungkook doesn’t sugarcoat his intentions — never when it comes to you.

Jungkook pouts, “they still came to the show …”

“Yeah, they did,” your eyes soften, handing his phone back to him, “made me really happy seeing my family there.” You tuck his hair behind his ear.

“You deserve to be.”

And you also find happiness in when you press your lips against his. Happiness in when he giggles, nose scrunched and all. Happiness in when he moans as you roll your hips over him. 

Jungkook pulls away to trail kisses down your cheek and neck. “You said you’re worried about letting go of control … we can work on that.” 

You whimper at a particularly harsher suck, “how?”

───── ♪ ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ♪ ───── 

You’ve always preferred being in the mentor role. There’s no ambiguity in teaching someone what you already know. Never have to anticipate the unknown.

You find yourself sitting on the edge of your bed, watching Jungkook take off his shirt. So ready to welcome the unknown. It comes to you in the form of Jungkook’s sunkissed body and hooded eyes. He’s well-loved by his friends and family. Only natural to be well-loved by the sun as well. The sun will spend eternity chasing Jungkook and it’ll never come close to seeing all that you will in this lifetime.

“You trust me, yeah?” He walks up to you, legs bumping into your knees. Jungkook cups your cheek and tilts your head up to look at him. Needs to see you. 

“‘Course, I do.” You smile. 

“Good,” he steps back, “turn around for me.”

You wordlessly get on your hands and knees, chin turned at your shoulder to look at Jungkook, “like this?”

“Just like that,” he praises, gaze dropping at your ass where your dress falls perfectly around your hips.

One of his hands trails up your back and gently pushes you down. Your forearms cushion your drop, not that you needed it. You’re pliant for Jungkook. 

You hear him shuffle behind you, both his hands are at your hips as he leans into down to kiss your shoulder. One of his hands goes under the skirt of your dress, knuckles grazing your inner thigh as if he’s asking permission to do more. You turn your head to the side with a visible pout.

“Are you going to be edging me or something?”

Jungkook snickers. “What? You want me to?”

So it appears edging wasn’t his goal. 

His hand cups your sex, middle finger trailing up and down your clothed slit. “You’re soaked through, baby,” Jungkook murmurs, “‘s cause you were thinking about getting edged?”

You shake your head no. “Can’t help it,” your fingers grip your sheets as his fingers move a little quicker. “You got me like this.”

Jungkook groans at your confession. “I did, didn’t I?”

He reluctantly lifts himself up and away from you. Almost regrets it when he sees your brows furrow in disappointment. Makes a mental note to make it up to you one way or another. Season’s over, but Jungkook has all the time in the world with you. He pushes your dress up and over your ass. Feels his cock stiffen in his pants at the sight of your beige colored panties. He always had a thing for your ass. Shamelessly looked at it in the past whenever you were busy stretching. Proud to know that this view belonged to him and only him. He lets his gaze linger at the sight of the dark wet patch at the center of your panties. 

Yeah, he got you like this.

“You still with me, Spacey?” you tease when you notice him staring at you longer than anticipated.

He shakes himself out of stupor. “You’re lucky I like you.” His knuckle trails up and down your slit. Got you shuddering again.

“What do you want me to call you then?” You ask. 

Jungkook feigns deep thought, humming as he throws out random nicknames.

“Baby?” He pulls your panties down your thighs.

“Honey?” You giggle as he taps your knees to fully remove your underwear.

“Boyfriend?” He parts your ass, lets a dribble of spit trail down the center and to your cunt. Your hole clenches around nothing. 

“You liked that one?” Jungkook asks, spitting directly at your hole this time. “Hm?” Trails kisses down your folds, deliberately avoiding your clit till he gets an answer.

“Kook,” you mewl. 

“Tell me,” it comes out needy, “please?”

“I do, yeah.” You confess, “I like it a lot — like you so much.” 

That’s all he needed. You choke on a moan as Jungkook licks one long strip from your clit to your entrance. He rocks your hips to his face, pistoning his tongue into your tight pussy. Pushes your ass up a little higher so he could have better access to your clit. He licks, sucks, moans, and repeats as if he knows nothing more than to please you. 

Jungkook’s moans come out muffled, face stuffed so deeply between your legs, you’d think he’d suffocate to death. On the contrary, he’d argue that life’s worth living even more now. You catch a glimpse of him with his eyes closed and his arm moving fervently between his legs. So shameless and impatient — needs to wank himself for some relief.

“Pretty baby, so fucking wet for me,” he praises against your sex, hot and breathless. Your hand comes around to hold his. Your absolute favorite part of his body. Love it on your body and even more when woven between your fingers — keeps you grounded and secure as you reach your orgasm. And even before you’ve fully come down, Jungkook pulls away and stuffs your cunt with two fingers, curling and thrusting in you with a type of speed and precision that has you gasping. Doesn’t give you room to breathe, prefers having you like this anyway.  

“Baby, y-you’re gonna make me cum again.” You cry, eyes fighting to stay open. A certain numbness pools at your stomach, begging to snap at the curl of Jungkook’s fingers. 

“I know,” he encourages, “make a mess on my fingers, come on.”

You come again, eyes rolled to the back of your head and moans stifled by your sheets. Jungkook draws in a breath, absolutely hypnotized with your pussy clenching and suctioning his fingers. After a couple seconds pass, Jungkook slowly pulls his fingers out and rolls you down onto your back. He clambers his way on top of you. Wants nothing more than to kiss you and be in your arms. You, on the other hand, had different plans. 

“What are you …” Jungkook grunts softly into your mouth. You slide your hands down into his pants and wrap your fingers around his hard cock. Give him one, two, three good pumps before you break away from his lips.

“Honey is a little old-fashioned, no?” You breathlessly ask, your free hand tugs at his belt loops. Jungkook gets the hint and swiftly pulls down his pants and briefs all at once. 

“Honey is cute.” He argues, tugging your top down to expose your breasts. 

“For married couples, sure. Not suited for a boyfriend.” You correct. 

He nods, nicknames don’t really matter to him anyway. Just wanna be yours. Instead, he chooses to latch his lips to your nipple, hand groping the other breast. Bites down on your nipple and immediately soothes it over with his tongue. Jungkook goes back and forth between the two, loving your reactions. The pleasure builds again. He hisses when you roll your hips up at him.

“Tonight’s about you letting go, remember?” He reminds, “I'll take care of you, promise.” 

“Want you to feel good too.”

“I do,” he swoops his hand underneath your thigh and pushes it up, “so much, with you.” He guides his cock in between your folds. It’s wet and messy, just how he wants it. You wince at the over sensitivity, but ignore it because Jungkook is falling apart above you. He looks down between you both, mesmerized by your slick coating his length.

You watch him, watch as he slides his cock up and down your core, watch how the head of his cock knocks and moves against your clit. 

“You feel so good like this,” Jungkook holds your jaw, nose caressing yours, “wonder how you’d feel inside.”

You whine, hips pushing upwards, “please …”

He shushes you with a kiss, requesting you to be patient with promises of making you feel good. It’s dizzying, but you listen and let him take the reins. Jungkook shifts his hips and you gasp into his mouth at the feel of his hard cock at your entrance. Your pussy flutters around him, so wet and ready. The head of his cock nudges in, stretch so minimal with how well he’s prepped you. You moan and let your head sink onto your pillow. He doesn’t push into you any further, just the tip. 

“Mm, you are edging me,” you accuse, unable to move as Jungkook has your hips pinned down to the mattress.

“You wouldn’t like me if I edged you, Juice.” He smiles.

Impossible. Don’t think there’s a universe or lifetime you wouldn’t be drawn by him and him to you. “Need you inside me, Jungkook,” you say, “please?”

He savors the moment for a little longer, tempted to do as you request. God, he would. But Jungkook has a promise to uphold and a lesson to teach. He keeps his word as he slowly inserts himself inch by inch, watching your brows furrow and mouth drop open in frustration.

Jungkook’s just as fucked out. Involuntarily bucks his hips, drawing out a surprised, high-pitched moan from you. Big mistake. The need to hear that again fuels something primal in him. His arms swoop underneath your head. Has you in an embrace as he whispers sweet nothings into your ear — such a contrast to his ruthless hips. Jungkook’s whole life has been about music. Over the years, he saved music sheets from his favorite pieces and shows. His most favorite melody? Your broken moans and cries, spurring him on to continue fucking you.

He’s not sure how long this goes for until he finally lifts himself up, immediately misses the warmth of your body. The view below him makes up for it: your dress bundled up around your waist, breasts bouncing after every thrust, and your wanton gaze. His eyes drop lower at where you both connect — groans at the cream coating his cock and how it gathers at the base after every push. Your breath hitches when his reaches between your bodies and toys with your clit. “Yes, yes, yes, oh, Kook, right there.” 

“I—” you can’t even finish your sentence as you cum again for the third time. Jungkook’s eyes close, head tipped back at the feel of your walls squeezing around him.

“Shit,” he trembles and pulls out, trying his best to delay his orgasm. Doesn’t want any of this to end so soon. 

Jungkook lays down next to you, hard cock smearing your cum on your stomach. You smile, one of your legs tossed over his hips to keep him close. You’re so tired, but there’s this glint in his eyes — he wants more. Far from being done, he pulls you on top of him, dark locks falling prettily on your pillows. Claims how much he likes your dress as he helps you get out of it.

“Couldn’t have liked it that much if it’s off me now.” You tuck Jungkook’s hair behind his ears and his expression shifts. Fondness. Warmth. Devotion. Jungkook drinks in the view before him — cock twitches at the sight of your fully naked body. Thinks he needs to block out a day to just kiss all your moles, scars, and freckles — adore them one by one. He settles for a small kiss on your palm, and positions his cock for you, eyes pleading at you to sink down on him. Your hip lifts and lowers slowly, stuffing yourself full of him again, fighting the over sensitivity. 

“You feel so good,” he rasps, “take me so well.” 

You nod, hands pressing his abdomen to hold yourself up. You move first, slow and deliberate to take in his expressions. Jungkook lets you take control for a minute. Just a minute. Because eventually, his fingers dig into your hips, maneuvering you up and down how he likes. Your legs shake, too weak to keep you upright. 

“Come here,” he tugs you down so that your chest presses down on his. The new position makes it easier for him to bounce you down. You cry out into the crook of his neck. You trust Jungkook, trust that only he could take your pleasure to another level. Trust him with your body — your heart. 

“So good for me,” he grips harder, feeling that familiar heaviness pool at his balls when he’s close. “You can give me another one, right?”

You feel your slick drip down his length with every drop of your hips. You whimper, shake your head, “n-no, I don’t think I can.”

He kisses your temple, “‘s okay, can you hold on for me? I’m so close.”

Of course you can. Anything for him. Anything to see him cum. Because of you, for you. He hugs you close, plants his feet down on your mattress, and fucks himself up into you. 

You’re a liar. Body betrays you as he has you bracing his chest and digging your fingernails into his shoulders. Pretty crescent moons on your sunshine. So perfect. Even when you sob from the intensity of his thrusts, you want nothing more than for this feeling to last forever. Because Jungkook has you cumming again, pussy fluttering and milking his length for all he’s worth. It surprises the both of you — surprises Jungkook more when you press your face into his neck and he feels wetness on his skin. 

“Baby,” he huffs, “wh-where should I—” hips losing rhythm and stuttering from your clenches. 

“Inside, please cum inside me,” you use all your strength to lift your head to kiss him. That’s when Jungkook sees it: your watery lashes.

"Gonna cum," Jungkook gasps, eyes squeezed shut, both hands now pushing your ass to meet his hips, “oh fuck, I’m gonna cum.” He groans loudly into your mouth, shamelessly sucks on your tongue and pumps himself two more times into your cunt before finishing inside you.

Jungkook stills. Pants hard. Mentally snorts at all his past dumb fantasies because they’ll never compare to how he feels with you right now. Doesn’t think he’s ever cummed this much and this hard. But it’s you, the girl he’s fancied for so long. You and Jungkook stay like this for a while longer. His hand trails up and down your back, nearly lulling you to sleep. Jungkook knows you — would rather go barefoot on lego pieces than sleep dirty. You made it clear that showers are a must after practice and before bedtime. Sex was no exception.

Another thirty seconds pass and Jungkook slowly pulls out of you. You wince and close your fists against his chest.

“Sorry, sorry,” he apologizes with kisses on your shoulder and gently rolls you onto your back. He looks a little silly rushing to the bathroom while hopping into his briefs. Comes back with a warm cloth to which you realize seconds later was your favorite face towel. 

“Jungkook,” you whine as he parts your legs to clean you up, too weak to put up a fight. 

“I know, baby, I’ll get you a new one. You okay, though?”

“Yeah, ‘m good.” You smile, eyes filled with adoration.

How could you not be? Jungkook kisses the old bruises on your knees just as he’s kissed the old wounds in your heart. 

───── ♪ ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ♪ ───── 

“Whatcha doing?” Jungkook hums into your ear.

“Signing us up for auditions.” You reply naturally, fingers typing away on your phone. 

“Uh, what?” He lifts his head up from the pillow, one eye shut from the brightness of your phone. 

“With the Tridents.”

“Drum corps? Wait, Juice, I don’t know if I’m ready. There are a lot of good drummers out there …”

“Why not? You’re literally a section leader. There’s nothing you can’t do.”

“But—”

“We’ll go together,” you turn. “Come on, we age out of this circuit soon.” 

He looks uncertain. Hesitation stirs in his irises. 

“If any of us don’t make the cut, we’re both out. Kay?” Half lie because you’ll encourage him to stay even if you were to get cut first.

Jungkook stares at you, bites his lips as he contemplates his decision. Caves in under three seconds at the sight of your pleading eyes, “Alright, let’s do this.” He’s jittery in your embrace. Can’t believe he’s doing this. Knows he has to go for it.

Because life’s too short not to go full out.

fin.

a/n: fun fact! my high school crush was in the drumline too. funnily enough, i recently saw him after years of radio silence. guess what i did 😎 anyway, lmk if you have any thoughts/feedback/questions ♡

[bunnyykoo]

Girlie i love ur recs they're the best! Can u recommend some arranged marriage au fics of Jungkook?? High society or royalty au?

@cherricherryy Thank you so much! Honestly I think I have some on the Masterlist I made but I can’t really recommend any others since I haven’t read that many and those are all I know. If you haven’t already you can check some of those out if you would like! 💜

[bunnyykoo]

I really appreciate you making lists of fics, it helped me find new amazing stories! Thanks a lot!

@stellargolden Ahhh omg thank you so much! The first one I did I really made for myself and it helped a lot so I thought hey people could find some really amazing underrated stories and authors to support and enjoy so I decided to make a second one. I’m glad you liked it and it’s always exciting finding new stories! 💜

[bunnyykoo]

Universal Truths | JJK

Summary: You took the risk of falling in love in a world where your perfect match is decided for you by the universe itself. When a name you never could've predicted appears on your wrist, you do everything you can to stop the inevitable.

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader, (Brief) Taehyung x Reader

Genre: Soulmate AU, Boyfriend's Best Friend, Friends to Lovers, Angst, Fluff, Smut

Word Count: 19.3k+

Warnings: swearing, drinking, partying, yelling, crying, lying, heartbreak, physical pain, injury, burning sensations, cramping, chest aches, lose of appetite, vomiting, insomnia, mentions of UTI and mono, emotional cheating (kinda), a break-up, loss of friendship, use of pet names (baby, pumpkin, princess), soccer, use of sports lingo, fear of heights, tattoos. SMUT: one-night stands, kissing, hair pulling, fingering, hand job, oral sex (both receiving), penetrative sex, unprotected sex (she's on bc), missionary, dick riding, big dick!jk bc I'm nothing if not accurate, cum swallowing (m & f), spitting, gagging via hand, cream pie, scratching, aftercare, please lmk if I missed any!

Author's Note: I've returned from my mandatory military service (writer's block) after over two years. I'm very excited to be writing again and hope you all love this one as much as I do. It's my first time posting smut that I've written so I'm v nervous and would appreciate any feedback on that or the story as a whole. Please, please let me know what you think :)

Your thighs are growing sore from the metal of the bleachers digging into them. Taehyung warned you to bring your bleacher seat, but in your rush out the door tonight you forgot it. Shifting uncomfortably, you rise up just enough to readjust your clothes to create a barrier between you and the cold steel.

The girl next to you chuckles at your situation.

You don’t know her very well and honestly you barely remember her name. Jisoo? Jihyo? It isn’t in your best interest to try and memorize the many women who accompany you to these games.

As if to make matters worse, it’s a night game, and the brisk wind of nighttime is nipping at your thighs through your jeans. 

What’s-her-name is wearing a skirt and tights, even though you told Jungkook to tell her she should dress warmly. You’re too nice for your own good; trying to keep these women comfortable while they cheer for your team for the sole purpose of spending their night with the star player afterwards.

Jeon Jungkook is only a sophomore, while your boyfriend, Kim Taehyung, is a junior. Nevertheless, Jungkook can only be described as a goddamn soccer prodigy, and as such he has garnered most of the attention since joining the team. 

It’s certainly no skin off your back. You don’t need hordes of women trying to get at your man. Jungkook can keep all that attention for himself. Which he does. Joyously.

There is no resentment or judgement towards Jungkook for the fact that you come to these games with a new woman every week. Some would even say he’s making smarter choices than you are by having a serious, long-term boyfriend whose name isn’t tattooed on your wrist. 

At some point during young adulthood a name appears on everyone’s wrist indicating who their soulmate is. Impossible to predict nor refute, they could be a stranger you’ll meet down the line, someone you’ve known since childhood, or anything in between. Many people, such as yourself, allow love into their hearts regardless of the impending reveal of one’s soulmate. 

Truthfully, if Taehyung isn’t your soulmate, you don’t know who the hell could be. A perfect match doesn’t even scratch the surface of him. He’s attentive, always catching on when your mood shifts. Considerate, asking for your input over the most menial decisions. And loving, holding you close and providing you with unyielding affection. Taehyung will do whatever it takes to bring you happiness and you strive to reciprocate that.

You were introduced to your now-boyfriend by none other than Jungkook. The pair are childhood best friends who’ve been playing soccer together since they could kick a ball. It was over freshman orientation weekend after you and Jungkook were assigned to the same icebreaker group. Upon mingling for the day, Jungkook served his best friend to you on a silver platter and the rest is history. As soon as you saw his boxy grin, being around him became a non-negotiable. 

There is a piece of you that refuses to admit your soulmate could be anyone else, but the rest of you knows how great the possibility is. A gnawing anxiety finds its way into your bones every once in a while. 

Your fingers dance across your wrist in thought, pressing down against your vein to feel your pulse. 

When you look up, it’s just in time to see your boyfriend’s best friend scoring a goal. Ji-something stands up to cheer as loud as she can. The soccer field is large, but not that large. She only needs half the volume to get her message across. 

You chuckle at Jungkook’s entire face going red when he hears her holler. He scratches the back of his neck as he returns to his position for the next set of plays. 

Eyes perusing for a familiar head of black curls, you find your boyfriend in his defensive position. A smile creeps in without you realizing as pride swells in your chest. You clap when he successfully prevents the other team from scoring, but don’t make yourself as known as your companion. 

A wishful sigh breaks you from your admiration. 

“I wish Jungkook would settle down like Taehyung has,” the girl pouts. 

“Well, I think he’s trying to spare both your feelings, don’t you think?” You’ve had this conversation one too many times with one too many girls. “Neither of you know if you’re soulmates and getting into a relationship could lead to heartache.” 

“Then why did you do it?”

That’s a great question, and one you wish you knew the answer to. Your nature is cautious and you've always been prudent when it comes to love. Prior to college, your plan was to remain single until your tattoo materialized. There were hookups occasionally during your high school years, but never once breaching into the realm of dating.

“I just fell in love, and the idea of not being with him hurt more than the possibility that he isn’t my soulmate.”

“Wow,” she stares in awe. “That’s so romantic.”

You only grant her a nod before reverting your attention back to the game. It’s nearly over now which means you can finally get your arms around Taehyung and hold him close for the rest of the night. 

The team is victorious as usual and the players gather around in the center to celebrate their victory with an indiscernible cheer. Leading your companion down the bleachers, you wait at the separation between the stands and the field as both boys come jogging over.

Taehyung’s smile is radiant as he beams. He pulls you in for a kiss immediately once he reaches you. You’re giggling against his lips as he pecks you repeatedly in quick succession.

“Proud of you, baby,” you whisper into his mouth. 

You steal his hand from behind your head to lace his fingers with yours. When you glance over, Jungkook is speaking with his woman-of-the-week. Although, you aren’t sure you can describe her eager rambling and his mindless nodding as a conversation.

Taehyung’s knowing chuckle meets your ear.

“They never learn,” he says.

“Oh no, she knows she’s disposable,” you correct. “She just wants him bad enough not to care.”

“JK,” Taehyung grabs the younger one’s attention. “We’re gonna grab dinner, you and Jiseon wanna join?”

Wow, you feel like such an asshole. If Taehyung can remember her name surely you should’ve. 

“Nah, we’re good.” 

Jungkook winks at his friend and you feign a gag sound. Sticking your finger near your mouth for dramatic effect. Jungkook only rolls his eyes before waving goodbye. The brat didn’t even thank you for entertaining his little fling tonight. Unbelievable. 

Besides his questionable choices in sexual partners, you genuinely enjoy Jungkook’s company. You aren’t necessarily close, but he’s around enough that you know his favorite food and band. You know that he’s sweet and caring towards the people in his life. And he certainly doesn’t mistreat the women he spends his time with. There is a thick boundary laid before anyone ever steps foot inside his apartment. His girls know exactly what they’re signing up for. 

After dinner, Taehyung walks you back to your place while reminiscing over the most exciting moments of the game. You listen intently while swinging your connected hands back and forth between you. 

He spends the night like he often does after a Friday night game and you wake up together just in time to catch brunch at the closest dining hall. 

While you dress in the comfiest outfit you own, your boyfriend’s voice is telling someone where you’ll be. He ends the call with a quick goodbye before leaning in the doorway of your bathroom.

“JK’s meeting us for brunch, if that’s ok?”

“Is his girly friend joining?”

“Nope,” he says with a pop of his lips. Your head hangs as you chuckle. Figures. 

When you turn around, Taehyung is admiring you like you aren’t in an old hoodie and sweatpants. His hands reach for your waist, pulling you closer and enveloping you into his chest. You sigh, resting your head where his heartbeat can be heard.

“I love you, pumpkin,” he says with a kiss to your hair. You rest your chin on his sternum to get a better view.

“I love you more, handsome,” you reply. 

He kisses you briefly before dragging you from the warmth of your apartment to eat some poorly-made pancakes and instant eggs. 

The dining hall’s familiar scent infiltrates your nostrils. Frankly, you’re starving and need to consume something before the hangry version of you comes out to meet the world. 

You and Taehyung are already eating by the time Jungkook comes in through the large glass doors. The boy looks a mess; hair pointing in a million directions, hoodie barely on and revealing part of his stomach above his joggers, and a purple bruise sits to the left of his throat. 

“Wow,” you say as you chew through a pineapple slice.

“Yeah,” he says with a boyish smile, his body leaning against a chair back. “It was fucking awesome.”

“Ew,” you groan. 

Taehyung cheers for his friend, high fiving him as the younger one takes a seat. 

“Hyung, you wouldn’t believe the shit she did with her —”

“No, no, stop that,” you scold him before he ruins your breakfast. “We’re eating.”

“So? There’s nothing gross or bad about sex, Y/N,” he argues.

“You’re right, but I don’t need to hear about your sex, okay?” 

“I, for one, would like to hear about it,” Taehyung responds. You gawk at him from across the table. “What? Maybe we could learn a thing or two.”

“Tae!” 

Jungkook’s hearty laugh only furthers your annoyance. Once he leaves to get food, you point your fork at your boyfriend in a silent warning before continuing to eat. 

There’s a party tonight at another teammate’s off-campus house. Taehyung begs you with his big, adorable puppy eyes and you instantly fold. They are your only kryptonite and you agree without another thought when he asks to go. 

You travel hand-in-hand back to your apartment after brunch so you can finish some homework before the party. With a kiss and a promise to pick you up at 8, he heads home.

The biology homework for your mandatory gen-ed is staring you in the face. It’s the last of your assignments to complete before you’re free to get ready. A groan passes through your lips while you tip your head back in frustration. Science is so not your thing and this is the last class you’ll ever have to take on the subject. There is a high probability of the course tanking your GPA this semester. 

Chewing on your lip, your phone teases you with its presence. There is someone you know who's a biology major, but you’ve never asked him for help before and you aren’t sure you can handle the teasing that will follow if you do. 

You curse as your fingers find his contact before you can change your mind. You’ve never once called or texted him separately, only ever in a group chat with your boyfriend and a few others. 

He answers after a couple rings, but his voice is laced with confusion when he does. 

“Hello?”

“Hey,” you stretch the syllable as far as it can go.

“What’s up?”

“Jungkookie…” you play coy. “Could you possibly help me with something?” 

“What is it?” 

You hear shuffling on the other end, as if he’s already getting up to fulfill your request. 

“My bio homework,” you answer. “Can I just send you a picture of it or something and you can tell me the answers?”

He chuckles, low and soft.

“Sure.” 

You cheer to yourself, kicking your feet and flipping off the paper in front of you that will finally be conquered. 

“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” you shout.

“Mmhm, just send it over.”

You do so as soon as you hang up. It’s barely been fifteen minutes when the photo returns, this time with answers added next to each question. 

You throw your head back and resist the urge to literally kiss the photo on your phone screen. This assignment has haunted you for days now. Vowing to repay Jungkook in kind, you complete the worksheet to match his answers before heading to the shower to get ready. 

When Taehyung arrives at 8, you still have to finish putting on your jewelry. He smirks knowingly at your consistent lack of punctuality. His body takes purchase on your bed while you adjust the final details of your outfit. 

It’s nothing special, just a sweater and a skirt, but you can tell it does something for your boyfriend by the way he eyes you from his position. His legs are spread, feet firmly planted as he licks his lips. Ever the temptress, you situate yourself on his lap when you’re finished.

His hands instinctively meet your thighs, rubbing them as he eyes your lips.

“Careful, baby, we have somewhere to be,” he says.

“Do we, though?” 

You tilt your head without breaking eye contact. He answers with a nod, but his lips are already ascending on the junction between your neck and shoulder. You moan appreciatively, resisting the urge to move against his crotch. 

The kiss is far too short and light for your liking, and once he’s satisfied with his teasing he stands to leave. You groan and give him your best pout. Adorably pleading with him for more affection, but he merely tsks at your antics before tugging you out of the apartment. 

The party is heard before it’s seen. The bass of the music is vibrating the floorboards as you walk inside. Taehyung leads you in by your hand and you greet his teammates and their partners or guests for the night on your way to the kitchen. 

He pours you both a drink into dinky plastic cups and hands one of them over. The first sip burns, but the next couple are smoother as you acquire the taste. 

You traverse the party together as normal, mingling for a while and dancing together for a spell. After a couple hours, Taehyung joins his team in a beer pong tournament while you head to the porch for some fresh air.

You rest your elbows on the hardwood railing and let your heavy head fall forward. Truthfully, you aren’t that drunk, but stuffy heat from the house mixed with alcohol isn’t doing you any favors. 

The door behind you opens, and none other than the friendly-neighborhood fuckboy comes tumbling outside. When he notices your presence, he sighs in relief and joins you at the railing.

“Who are you running from?” 

“Jiseon,” he answers. You giggle. That would explain his antsy behavior. 

“Let me guess, she didn’t take the ‘one night only’ hint,” you say. He shakes his head, dark hair falling into his eyes. “Aw, poor you, it must be so hard to have an endless amount of women at your disposal.”

He turns towards you, leaning sideways against the railing so he can face you.

“This isn’t my preferred method of human connection, you know,” he says. “I would love nothing more than to have what you and Taehyung do. All I want is for my soulmate’s name to show up so I can finally seek the comfort of their arms instead of whatever random girl is chasing after me that day.” 

“Then why don’t you try with someone to have what Tae and I do?”

“Because I don’t want to get my heart broken,” he answers truthfully. “Not that you and Tae will, I just —”

“No, it’s okay.” You turn to face him as well. “I know it’s a possibility.” 

“It may seem backwards to you,” he adds. “And it’s not like I don’t enjoy casual sex. I do.” Your eyes roll back on reflex. “But I don’t sleep around because I’m insatiable or abundantly horny. I’m just lonely.”

You frown, never realizing the extent of Jungkook’s feelings on the matter. One of your hands reaches out to grasp his tattooed wrist.

“You’ll find her someday soon, Jungkook,” you offer with a smile. “And she’s gonna love you.”

If only you knew just how soon he would find her or that he already knew her.

You finish the night off with a brief makeout in the downstairs bathroom. It’s not the most romantic or pretty location, but you’re too intoxicated at that point to care when Taehyung’s lips are on yours. 

He walks you home and ensures you enter your apartment safely before retreating back to his own. You fall into your bed with a plop, the soft blankets surrounding you with warmth and comfort. Nuzzling into your sheets, you’re in dreamland before you can notice the black ink slowly darkening on your skin.

Upon waking up, your headache is the first to greet you. Feet finding the floor through half-closed eyelids, a groan erupts from your chest as you stretch the sleep out of your body. Your eyes are still barely open as you trudge to the bathroom to see the aftermath of last night.

Unfortunately for you, the version of you from last night forgot to take off her makeup. You gently wash away the dried mascara and lip gloss before applying some product. The entire routine is complete before you ever notice the new addition on your skin. It’s only once you brush your teeth and your wrist is in your direct eyesight that you see it. 

You yelp, your toothbrush falling from your mouth and clattering in the sink. Your first instinct is to try and wash it off, as if it’s some cruel prank someone pulled. As hard as you possibly can, you run your wrist under the water and scrub at the name staring back at you. You even add soap, as if that will somehow reverse what you already know to be true. 

“No, no, no,” you chant desperately. “Please,” you beg to whatever or whoever is in charge. 

After scrubbing until your skin is bright red and burning, you finally turn the water off. Your hand shakes almost violently from the fear and adrenaline coursing through you. Pressing your finger down over your vein, you close your eyes in an attempt to bestill your racing heartbeat. 

It’s as useless as scrubbing, and when you open your eyes and look into the mirror, a cry breaks from your body as you collapse into your bathroom carpet. You hug your knees to your chest, keeping your eyes tightly shut as tears escape them. This has to be some sick nightmare. It simply can’t be reality. 

The weight of the truth is pushing you down below the surface of your tolerance. It feels like you’re drowning, swallowing gallons of water and burning your esophagus in the process. Your body couldn’t produce enough tears if it tried. The soul-crushing emotions are too insurmountable. 

The sound of your phone ringing brings your heartbeat to a grinding halt. Your eyes find the source atop the bathroom counter. All you can do is stare helplessly at destiny calling. You already know who the caller is because soulmate tattoos always appear in pairs. 

Attempting to settle your breathing, you crawl to where you can reach your phone from the floor. The vibration of it against the marble is identical to your shaking hand as you answer it. You inhale three shaky breaths before moving it to your ear. 

“Y/N.”

His voice catapults your heart completely out of your chest. You’re unsure where it’s gone, but you know it isn’t inside you anymore. The urge to cry again is so forceful you have to bite down on your lip to restrain yourself. Even then, when you respond, your voice breaks over the words.

“What do we do?”

As you speak, your eyes fall to your wrist again. There, in small, black, cursive lettering is the last name you ever expected to find.

Jungkook

“I’m going to come over, alright?” 

You’re nodding before remembering he can’t see you. 

“Okay,” you whimper. And then, a voice you don’t believe is your own says, “Hurry, please.”

It’s damn near impossible to lift yourself from the floor. You feel concrete in your bones and lead in your blood. Tears are staining your cheeks, but you barely register it over the sound of your thoughts running wild. 

The knock on your door arrives quicker than you expect, but then again you did tell him to hurry. An unfamiliar feeling spreads through your chest at the thought of him rushing to you. Ignoring the way it reminds you of butterflies, you finally stand to answer the door. 

You think your soul must have been replaced with someone else’s. Taehyung is the only person your heart has ever somersaulted for. Your sweet, adoring, funny, and wonderful boyfriend. His smile comes to mind and it constricts your airway. 

Does the soul bond really reconstruct your emotional landscape that quickly? The answer comes as soon as you open the door. 

You’ve seen Jungkook at least 500 times over the course of a year and a half and locked eyes with him even more often than that. You did so just last night on the porch. Seeing him on the opposite side of your door should be simple. Yet, nothing prepares you for the swarm of emotions you feel when you finally see him. 

It’s as if the world has tilted on its axis, but not as if it’s suddenly spinning the wrong way. No, it’s as though this whole time it has been wrong, and only now is it right. You hold your breath without meaning to. Your very soul yearns to leap from your body just to get an inch closer to him. 

Jungkook’s eyes are blown wide, pupils dialated to the point where you can’t tell where his irises begin. His face is flushed, but you’re unsure if it’s from seeing you or the method of speed he used to reach you. His inhales and exhales are shallow, forced out only by muscle memory. You notice his hands are shaking where they rest limply by his side. They twitch towards you before he’s closing them into fists. 

“Holy shit.” 

It falls from your lips before you can stop it. The feeling is a riptide pulling you under without anything to stop it. 

Jungkook inhales deeply at the sound of your voice, as if it was the one thing he needed to hear. He steps into your apartment and closes the door behind him. You take a parallel step back to hold the distance between you. Your own body scolds you for doing so. 

It isn’t for long, because when Jungkook reaches out slowly to take your wrist in his hand, you melt. Your body succumbs to the feeling of his touch the way it feels to slip into a warm bath. Your mouth is releasing a sigh of relief before you can tell it not to. 

He observes your skin curiously, taking in the view of his name written there. His thumb delicately traces the curves. His eyes are misty and filled with something unreadable.

“Jungkook,” your voice comes out so small. His eyes find yours and you come to realize how much his heart is breaking, too. “We should talk.”

Hand dropping yours, he nods and follows you to your couch. Although you were the one who suggested a conversation, words die in your throat. The silence stretches between you like molasses.

“I…” you try to find the right words only to realize there are none. “I love him, Jungkook. I can’t — god — I can’t hurt him like this. I don’t want to lose him.”

“I know,” your companion nods solemnly. “I can’t either.” He runs his hands through his hair. “I’ve known him since I was four. He’s the only reason I even started playing soccer.” A deep breath. “He’s my best friend.”

Your head finds your hands as you fold yourself in half, letting your elbows meet your knees. The pain in your chest reverberates through your entire system. You didn’t even know heartbreak could carry a physical ache. 

“What the fuck are we gonna do?” 

You’re crying into your hands. You can’t catch your breath for the life of you. The sobbing is painful in your throat. A firm hand finds your spine, gently moving up and down in the only way it knows how to console you. The touch leaves a warmth in its wake that you’ve never experienced before.

“We can’t tell him,” you whisper into your hands. Looking up, you find Jungkook’s eyes again. “We just have to pretend like this never happened.”

“Y/N, you know we can’t do that,” he replies. “Bad things happen to people who ignore their soul bond.”

“I don’t care. The universe is fucking sick and twisted and I’m not going to give it what it wants,” you say. Then, after inhaling and allowing your thoughts to rationalize, you continue. “We just continue on like nothing is wrong, but we spend more time together. Find excuses to hang out as the three of us. Maybe that will be enough to keep the bond from retaliating against us.” 

Jungkook looks skeptical, he tilts his head and tongues his cheek in thought. 

“What if it doesn’t work?”

“We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it,” you respond. Then, despite your best efforts to stop your mouth from opening, “you're not going to keep sleeping with other girls, are you?” 

He shakes his head without missing a beat.

“No, I could never do that,” he answers. You despise the feeling of relief that washes over you. 

“I’ll have to think of something to tell Tae. Say I have a UTI or something,” you muse. 

“No, Y/N, you don’t have to do that. It’s different,” Jungkook argues.

“I couldn’t,” you reply. “The thought of… of him making love to me when I have someone else’s name, your name, on my wrist makes me sick to my stomach.”

Taehyung’s ears must be burning because your phone rings and his face lights up the screen. Shattering your heart in its entirety when you see the goofy smile in his contact photo. Glancing towards Jungkook, you get up to take the call elsewhere.

He tells you he wants to study together after lunch. The thought of seeing him right now nearly sends bile up your throat. It will be too suspicious for you to say no. It’s the weekend and you never shy away from spending time together. You follow through with what you discussed and ask if you can invite Jungkook. You lie through your teeth and say it’s because you need help with biology. He thinks nothing of it as he replies with a sweet "of course." 

Therein begins your corrosive web of lies. Time moves normally, even though you feel anything but. Everyday a new lie tumbles from your lips like smoke. You feel yourself choking on it as it suffocates you from the inside. You vastly underestimated how hard your body would fight you for rejecting your soul bond with Jungkook. 

At first, it was tingling when you kissed Taehyung or an ache when you held his hand. But slowly, it got worse. After a few weeks, you couldn’t kiss him without a burning sensation on your lips. By the end of a month, holding his hand sent a stinging cramp down your arm. You explained you couldn’t have sex due to a UTI. Later, you claimed you couldn’t kiss because you caught mono. 

After six weeks, the aches and pains don’t just happen when you’re with Taehyung. They start happening simply because you’re away from Jungkook. 

You miss one of your morning classes because the cramping in your abdomen is so bad you can’t leave your bed. Dinners go uneaten because you can’t help but throw up the contents of your stomach. One night, while watching one of their soccer games, you leave because the most painful ache you can imagine is surging through your chest. You spend the evening alone, clutching your heart as you cry to whoever may be listening that this isn’t fair.

Jungkook isn’t doing much better, he tells you. His grades have begun to drop and he’s missing practices left and right. One day you see him limping across the courtyard. He tells you he pulled a muscle at the gym doing something he’s done a million times. That he can feel himself getting weaker everyday. 

The pair of you try your hardest to stall the effects by spending as much time together as you can. You don’t think you’ve spent alone time with Taehyung in weeks now. You sit next to each other at meals with your friends. He comes over to study whenever he’s free. If he’s going to a party, so are you. 

It’s not enough, because the physical closeness doesn’t make up for the emotional distance. You know it’s only a matter of time before nature forces you to confront what you’ve been avoiding. 

You’re sitting on Taehyung’s lap in the basement of a teammate’s house. The three Motrin you took beforehand aren’t helping the cramping in your legs nor the burning that follows Taehyung’s touch along your thigh. Jungkook is next to him, an uncomfortable scowl written into his features. It’s almost permanent these days. 

During a lull in the conversation, Taehyung leans forward to brush his lips on your neck. You yelp and stand abruptly from the sharp pain his kiss causes. Taehyung looks at you in concern, grabbing your hands to make you face him.

“Baby?” His eyes are so soft and loving when he peers up at you. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine,” you lie as you massage your neck. “I just need to hit the restroom real quick.”

Jungkook’s eyes are swimming with distress as they follow you out of the room. 

Forcing open the sticky bathroom door, you shut it behind you and brace yourself on the sink. When you look in the mirror, you don’t recognize the woman looking back. She’s skinnier than you, face pale, eyes hollow and devoid of light. You breathe deeply and are about to return when the door opens.

Jungkook moves as quickly and quietly as possible, peering out for any onlookers before shutting and locking the door behind him. Your body relaxes, your breath leveling, your nerves taking a rest from their constant anxiety. 

“Are you alright?” 

His hand is halfway in the air when he speaks, as though to reach out, but he changes his mind and lets it fall to his side. 

You respect his hesitation, but you can’t do this a second longer. Grabbing his hand back, you place it on your cheek, covering his fingers with your own to hold it steady. His eyes widen momentarily before relaxing and gazing around your face.

“I am now,” you whisper. It’s true. His touch feels like aloe in the summer. The warmth of him is so comforting you could fall asleep standing up. 

He licks his lips and you can see the gears turning inside as he analyzes your expression. You blink slowly, cat-like, and realize you don’t need words to communicate because he does precisely what you want him to. 

His forehead presses to yours and your lungs sing as they finally work unimpeached. Tension releases from Jungkook’s body as his shoulders slump forward. You know how terribly you both need this, and yet your betrayal to Taehyung feels venomous. A moment of serenity passes over you in the silence of the room. It’s a welcome reprieve from the chaos your lives have become. 

“I can’t do this anymore,” you admit. “Everyday just gets harder. My heart feels like it’s going to rip out of my chest every second I spend apart from you.”

His head twists against you, his eyes opening to catch your gaze. There’s an intensity in his stare you’ve never seen before. You’re on a precipice together, and Jungkook is like a dam just waiting to hear you say the word so he can break. 

“Tell me what you want, Y/N,” he says. 

“It’s not about what I want,” your tone is harsher than you hoped. “It’s about what I need.”

His other hand curls into your shirt near your waist, tugging you closer until your bodies are touching. Your free hand finds its way to his chest, fingertips passing over unfamiliar territory.

Jungkook sighs deep in his chest.

“I could stay like this forever,” he tells you. “Feel like I’ve been drowning and I can finally breathe again.”

Your eyes snap shut as you will yourself not to cry. This isn’t how it’s supposed to be and there is nothing you want more than for everything to go back to the way it was. But your harsh reality is staring you down and sinking its teeth into your jugular. The universe is sucking you dry and soon there will be nothing left. 

“We'll tell him tomorrow,” you announce. The finality of it constricts your airway. Jungkook is pulling you into him before the first sob even exits your body. He wraps his arms around you as a hand finds home in your hair.

Your tears soak Jungkook’s shirt where it rests against his shoulder. Every single drowning emotion comes out in slamming waves, pushing you up against a rocky shoreline. It shuts down your nervous system and disrupts your mental state. 

When the sobbing subsides, Jungkook gently lifts your head and his free hand swipes away at the tear stains still present on your cheekbones.

“It’s going to be alright,” he states. “And don’t ask me how I know,” he smiles just a hair. “I don’t. I’m just hopeful.” 

You laugh for what feels like the first time in forever. It’s short and quiet, but it’s enough for Jungkook’s smile to grow.

He lets you exit the cramped space first, waiting a few minutes before exiting and finding a spot elsewhere so he has an alibi. You return to Taehyung feeling a mixture of dread and relief. Tomorrow could very well be the worst day of your life, but at least this nightmare will be over. 

When you kiss Taehyung goodbye that night, you do it through physical ache, but knowing that it will probably be your last hurts worse than anything else. 

You cry yourself to sleep because it’s the only way you know how to cause enough fatigue to fall into slumber. 

The following morning you text Jungkook and Taehyung asking them both to come over. At this point it’s routine for the three of you to hang out so it goes unquestioned. When they arrive, you make yourself busy in the kitchen so you don’t have to touch your boyfriend unnecessarily. You also need the extra time to mentally prepare yourself. 

Placing two hot bowls of ramen in front of them, you take a seat on the couch as far from Taehyung as possible. Jungkook sits in a chair just across from you. 

“Pumpkin, you didn’t have to do this,” Taehyung says as he slurps his first bite of noodles into his mouth. 

Jungkook is staring into the familiar food with a faraway look. You gesture for him to eat, but his response is a shake of his head.

“So, why’d you want us here on this lovely Saturday?” 

Your gut twists at the notion of today being lovely. Taehyung is clueless that you’re about to shatter his heart in your hand. Yours has been slowly deteriorating all this time. 

“I actually have to tell you something, Tae,” you start. His eyes glance at you briefly, nodding for you to continue while he eats. “You should probably put that down.” 

Taehyung stops mid-bite, slowly setting the bowl back on the coffee table without breaking eye contact with you. 

“What’s going on?” He questions as his eyes flit to his friend sitting silently across from him. Jungkook doesn’t dare look up as his eyes find something on the floor to distract himself. 

“I got my soulmate tattoo,” you admit to him. The raw truth both burns and soothes your throat simultaneously as it breaches the air. Taehyung’s pupils are shaking when he looks at you and you can tell he doesn’t believe you yet. “It was almost two months ago now.”

“And you… you didn’t think you should tell me about that?” 

His voice pitches up, but he doesn’t sound angry, just confused. 

“I didn’t know how,” you reply. “And —”

“Wait,” Taehyung’s voice cuts through the air like a knife. “What is Jungkook doing here? Why would you want us both here, Y/N?”

Your mouth snaps shut in an instant as your eyes begin to water. There’s no mental strength left within you to even say it out loud. 

“I’m so sorry,” you whisper. 

“No.” Taehyung stands. “No, no, there is no fucking way.” He holds his hand out towards you. “Give me your hand.” Your limb is shaking as it stretches towards him. Despite his tone, he’s gentle when he grabs your wrist to inspect it. You can feel the unbridled anger pulsing through his fingertips. When he spots the familiar name etched into your skin, he gasps painfully. It’s a sound so unlike him it makes you flinch. “No,” he repeats. His voice breaks over the syllable in the most soul-crushing way. He blinks tears from his eyes as he just stares at your skin. 

“Taehyung,” you grab his attention. Your tears mirror his own now. “I love you. This doesn’t change that.”

He lets your wrist fall limply against the couch before crashing down himself. His expression is so utterly broken you aren’t sure if he can even hear you. 

“It changes everything,” he replies. “Love doesn’t matter in the face of fate.” He laughs, but there is no warmth in it. “How does this always fucking happen?” You want to ask what he means, but his eyes are already on Jungkook. His expression hardens into pure ice. “You always get everything you want, huh, Jungkookie?”

“Don’t do that,” Jungkook says coldly. “Don’t act like I fucking asked for this.”

“But that’s just the thing, you didn’t have to! The universe just spits out good luck at you like you won the lottery,” Taehyung explains. “Ever since we were kids you were always on top. Better grades, better skills, better looks, and now,” he laughs again, but this time with venom dripping from his voice. “It gives you the one thing that matters most to me.” 

“Hyung, we tried —”

“Nah, you don’t get to call me that, kid,” Taehyung sneers. Jungkook’s face drops in terror, so unbelievably shocked at his best friend’s words. “You took my fucking girl from me. I will never forgive you for that, whether it was your choice or not.”

“Tae, it isn’t his fault,” you interject.

“And you,” Taehyung snaps. He stands to face you directly. “You little fucking liar! A UTI? Mono? Were you fucking him this whole time behind my back?”

“Jesus — fuck, no!” You match his stance as you stand before him. “I would never do that to you!”

“No, you’d just lie to my face instead,” he retorts. 

“Yes, Tae, because I wanted to be with you. I did everything in my power to try and stop whatever destiny had in store for me,” you say. “You have no idea what I went through just to stay next to you for even a second longer. What we went through. For you!” 

“Yeah, right.”

“I couldn’t sleep. I couldn’t eat. I was missing class. I was taking double the daily allowance of painkillers,” you say calmly. “Touching you would send shockwaves down my arm. Kissing you burned. There were nights where I couldn’t breathe because the pain was so bad.” You inhale through your nose. “And I did it anyway. I did it because the thought of losing you was astronomically worse than any pain I was in.” Then, you point to Jungkook, who still sits defeated in the chair. “His muscles were literally atrophying. Could barely lift half the weight he used to be able to. His GPA dropped a whole point because he couldn’t focus enough in class. He would wake up drenched in sweat and so tired it was like he hadn’t slept at all.” You take a final deep breath. “You mean the world to me, to both of us. So don’t you dare claim we’re at fault for this. We’re hurting, too.”

Taehyung is staring at the ground as he mulls over your words. He sniffles and meets your eyes. 

“So that’s it, then… we just break up?”

“I don’t know what else to do,” you answer truthfully. “I think the soul bond will kill me if I keep denying it any longer.” 

Taehyung throws his head back with a groan.

“So I’m just supposed to watch you two date right in front of me? See you hold hands across the courtyard like it’s nothing?” The question makes you pause. Never once did you even think about what happens after. Jungkook answers on your behalf. 

“No, Taehyung,” he starts. “We wouldn’t do that to you. We’re not gonna date… right away. And when we do we’ll keep it far from where you can see it.”

There’s a sense of finality in the room after Jungkook’s answer. Taehyung’s eyes move around the room, but his expression tells you nothing. His eyes land on you before grabbing his backpack and slinging it over his shoulder. 

“Goodbye, Y/N,” he says as he leaves. He doesn’t spare Jungkook a single glance before the door closes behind him. 

Before you can think of doing anything else, you crouch down in front of Jungkook, using your hand to gently bring his head up. Your fingers travel across his cheek, wiping the stray tear that’s fallen. 

“He couldn’t even look at me,” Jungkook murmurs. 

“He needs time,” you tell him as you caress his cheekbone with your thumb. 

His fingers gently curl around your wrist, removing it from his face. You watch as his eyes bore into the ink on your skin. You hate how pretty they look when he’s sad. Slowly, he brings your arm closer and you’re in awe when he presses the softest of kisses to his own name on your wrist. The action makes your breath falter and your heart beat out of time. His lips leave your skin after lingering there and he bows his head so his forehead takes their place. 

Your fingers are in the perfect position to comb through his hair, so you do. A hum of satisfaction comes from your soulmate. 

“I’m sorry, Y/N,” he says. 

“What for?”

“Existing,” he laughs, but it’s hollow. “I keep wondering if it would be easier for everyone if I didn’t.” Your blood runs cold. “You wouldn’t have a soulmate anymore and then you and Tae would be free to be together.”

“Jungkook,” you say sternly, making him face you. “Don’t you ever say something like that again.” You grab his face for good measure. “You’re mine. The one and only soulmate I’m ever going to have. The world, my world, is a better place with you in it and I don’t ever want to be someplace you don’t exist. Okay?” 

He doesn’t reply, just nods. You push his hair out his eyes and he closes them. Letting his head rest in the cradle of your hands so he doesn’t have to hold it up himself. He looks peaceful like this and you let him savor the moment as long as possible. You’re nursing a heartbreak, but his best friend just walked out his life without a goodbye. 

You already know how complicated and difficult moving forward is going to be. While grieving the only long-term relationship you’ve ever known, you’ll be crafting an entirely new one. Your heart has to recover from the ache while reconstructing into something new. It’s going to take time, but you’re unshackled now. The universe wants this for you, and so it shall have it. 

The following weeks are composed of awkward silences and tentative touches, but you both take the necessary steps to get to know each other more. Jungkook begins to visit whenever he has free time to study or have dinner. You watch his games from the university sports channel for Taehyung’s sake, but Jungkook always comes over afterwards to celebrate. He helps with your biology homework and you rant to him about whatever classic novel you’re analyzing in your classes. 

You’re fairly touchy with each other because your very soul yearns for him, but it’s yet to break past the platonic wall between you. Jungkook does often find himself leaning down to kiss your forehead, but you welcome it warmly. You rest your head on his chest when you watch whatever anime he wants to show you and he plays with your hair while you force your favorite films on him. Your relationship is in its adolescence and you’re both cautious about messing it up. 

Jungkook wants more before you do. You can tell even if he thinks you can’t. It’s the way his eyes look when he sees you, even if your hair is a mess and your clothes are stained. The way his fingers twitch just enough when you’re cuddling to show he’s holding back. A piece of you wants to give in and grant his wish, but you’re unsure if your heart is ready to be given away again.

Spring enters with rainstorms and budding flowers. You’re basking under the sun’s rays while finishing your weekly readings. Your book is poised between two fingers while your back lays on the blanket-covered grass. The pages go one by one while the sounds of people moving through the courtyard fill your ears. 

The familiar lisp that accompanies Jungkook’s voice is the only reason you pick him out amongst the rest. Turning your head to locate the source, you spot him not too far away. You twist and sit up onto your elbows. 

Jungkook is standing at the corner of the courtyard, just outside the science building you know he has classes in. An unfamiliar girl is standing beside him. Perhaps too close. You can’t hear much of their conversation, only lone words as they float through the air. 

That’s when you feel jealousy pooling in your lower stomach like acid for the first time. Surely, you have nothing to worry about. He’s tied to you by an unknown force that neither of you can control. Still, a sour feeling creeps through you when you watch her hand reach out to touch his arm. 

He nonchalantly moves his arm out of her reach, and you can’t help the smile that appears on your lips. She seems persistent, though, and you wonder if you should intervene. When her fingers flit to his chest and dance across his shirt, you decide you definitely need to. 

Jungkook is handling the situation with grace before you can even rise from your position on the blanket. His hand removes hers from his body and he tilts his head with a pointed look. When you see his expression, the reaction from your body is completely involuntary. A sensual heat pools where the jealousy once resided. 

The girl is turning away from him with a scoff, her feet slamming the ground like a child with a tantrum. You cover your mouth to stop the laugh from escaping. Jungkook spots you then and he smiles, enough so that it crinkles the corners of his eyes. You wave at him before sending him a thumbs up, using your head to gesture in the direction the girl went. His eyes widen when he realizes you saw the interaction, but as he takes in your response, his lips form a smirk. He winks before turning in the opposite direction, off to whatever class he has next. 

You’re unsure what it is about the entire scene, but something in you stirs. For the first time since finding out Jungkook is your soulmate you realize you want more, too.

Jungkook has a game tonight and you mutually agree that it’s been long enough for you to watch in person. Close to three months have passed since you and Taehyung broke up. Heartbreak has no timeline, but you figure hiding yourself amongst the crowd will ensure you don’t make him too uncomfortable. 

The padding of the bleacher seat beneath you is comfortable, even if your bare thighs are sticking to it in the warm weather. The company you keep is much different than before. In fact, it’s the first time you aren’t accompanied by a stranger. Instead there are friends, parents, and siblings of the team all around you. 

You gnaw anxiously at your bottom lip while you wait for the players to enter the field. When they do, Taehyung is one of the first to exit the locker room. He looks good, as he always does, and he’s smiling at something a teammate said. The sight spreads a melancholy warmth through you. Happiness is the only thing you want for him. 

When Jungkook emerges, he’s tousling the front of his hair with his hand to keep it out of his eyes. His tattooed bicep is staring you in the face like you owe it something. You sigh, crossing one leg over the other as if that will help anything. 

Your soulmate moves effortlessly across the field, leading to him scoring more than one goal against the rival team. Taehyung does well too, blocking players and passing the ball with expertise. You don’t miss the obvious tension between him and Jungkook. Even from the stands their aversion for each other is palpable. 

Taehyung passes to someone else when Jungkook is wide open. Then he chooses to block a player who doesn’t stand a chance, leaving a different guy wide open to steal the ball from Jungkook. Their teammates are noticing it, too. You’re sure they have for the last three months. 

In the second half Taehyung avoids assisting Jungkook and they lose a goal to the other team. Worry seeps into your bones. One thing you’ve always known about Jungkook is that he’s competitive. If he loses tonight, it will hurt more than usual. 

You can hear the exacerbated sigh from Jungkook way across the field. His head tilts to the sky as he groans, running both hands through his hair. For whatever reason, this pisses you off more than it probably should. Taehyung can be angry with you and Jungkook, but to willingly allow the team to lose is petty. 

Two can play at petty, though. 

Standing up from your seat, you cup your hands around your mouth to amplify the sound.

“You got this, baby! Kick their asses, Jungkookie,” you shout. Everyone around you cheers in response, but the sound falls on deaf ears. The world goes into tunnel vision when Jungkook’s eyes find yours in the crowd. You wave excitedly at him and he smiles for the first time tonight.

"Baby?" He mouths at you as he walks backwards to get into position. You nod dramatically enough for him to see from afar before taking your seat again. 

When your eyes land on Taehyung, he’s wearing an expression that seems to be an equal mix of betrayal, hurt, and rage. You don’t ever want to hurt Taehyung. A piece of you will always hold love for him. But if he couldn’t be a big boy, you weren’t going to be either. 

They win the game by a landslide despite your ex’s best efforts. Although you already loudly made yourself known, you decide it’s too cruel to rub anything else in his face tonight. Instead of meeting Jungkook down below, you send a text that you’ll meet him back at your place. 

There’s a knock on your door at the perfect time, since the post-game meal you always make just finished cooking. The tradition didn’t start for any particular reason and Jungkook never asked you to have warm food waiting for him. It started because one time his stomach was growling so loud you could hear it over the TV. Ever since then you cook him his favorites so he can eat after burning all his calories on the field. 

You open the door and he slumps inside, dropping his bag unceremoniously by his shoes. He closes your apartment door lazily behind him. 

“Sheesh,” he pants. “That was fucking awful.”

Your hands push back some of the sweaty locks from his forehead, trailing down and tracing his jaw once his hair is out of his eyes. He hums appreciatively, leaning his face against your hand. 

“You did amazing, though,” you reply.

“Well, I had some help… baby,” he smirks proudly. Your eyes are rolling as he encompasses you in his arms. You giggle into his neck as he holds you by the waist. He smells like freshly cut grass and sweat, but it’s familiar now and you miss the scent when he isn’t around. Fresh out of the shower he smells like cedar and clean laundry. You’ve stolen a hoodie or two because you love the scent so much. “Thank you for that, by the way. I really needed it tonight.”

“Anytime,” you tell him. 

He loosens his grip but doesn’t let go. His eyes are searching yours for something you’re unsure of, but you wonder if he’s trying to gauge how you’re feeling. There’s been an obvious shift in your affection towards him lately, but he doesn’t want to cross any boundaries. 

“Where did that even come from?” 

“Tae was pissing me off. He doesn’t get to do shit like that and get away with it,” you explain. Jungkook acknowledges it with a hum.

“Thank you for defending me.” He leans forward to brush his lips against your forehead. When he pulls back, there’s a pout on your lips. “What’s that face for?”

Some childish part of you wants him to figure it out on his own, even though you know he’s too chivalrous to kiss you without you explicitly saying you’re alright with it. 

“Do it for real, Jungkook,” you grumble. 

“Do what for…” his voice trails off as his eyebrows lift. “Wait, do you want me to kiss you?” You cross your arms across your chest, trying to paint the picture that he’s already taking too long. “You’re pouting because you want me to kiss you?”

“Yes, Jungkook! You’re my soulmate can’t you read my mind or some shit,” you respond to his teasing. Jungkook is throwing his head back in laughter rather than doing his soulmate duty of giving you a smooch. You can’t believe it. His pretty soulmate is asking to be kissed and he’s laughing. “Googie…” you groan, letting your foot stomp just slightly in retaliation. Now this is getting embarrassing. 

As Jungkook slowly ceases his laughter, his hands find purchase on your cheeks. Your heart starts hammering in your chest, but much to your chagrin, he squeezes them to pucker your lips.

“You’re absolutely adorable, do you know that?” 

“Jun Jungoo.” Your attempt at his name is pathetic. He laughs even harder and you hate how endearing it is while you’re trying to be annoyed. He stops squeezing but leaves his hands there.

“Yes?” Your eyes are shooting daggers at him, tired of having to beg for his lips on yours. He smiles so, so beautifully in response. It’s hard to do anything but adore him when he looks at you like that. “Patience, baby, I’ll give you what you want.” 

The descent of his face to yours seems to stretch for eternity. You can’t tell if he’s deliberately moving slow or if the world has slowed in anticipation. When his lips finally do meet your own, it’s like nothing you’ve ever felt before and nothing you could’ve ever imagined. 

There’s a shock when you touch for the first time, causing Jungkook to recoil for a second before pressing his lips fully to yours. It feels like all the seasons at once. The brisk air of autumn, the chirping birds of spring, the running waters of summer, and the crunch of snow in winter. Your body feels weightless as though the only thing holding you to the ground is him. 

At first neither of you move an inch, your lips pressed together in the most middle school way. But once the initial wave of euphoria passes, Jungkook is moving his lips like he’s tired of wasting precious time. His hands grip your face tighter, his mouth devouring yours so passionately you can’t imagine anyone else ever kissing another human this way. You can’t even think clearly enough to do something with your hands. They lay limply at your side as you experience the utter bliss that is kissing your soulmate. 

One of you moans when your tongues meet for the first time, and you truly don’t even know who. You’re unsure where you end and he begins. Jungkook licks into your mouth and you swear you’re never letting him outside again. He’s just going to have to stand here and kiss you for all eternity. Your tongues dance together, and you finally come to your senses enough to tease him, biting his lower lip before letting it go. He groans deep in his chest and you realize you’d do just about anything to hear it over and over. 

You can see yourself passing out from lack of air soon, so you reluctantly pull away from his mouth. Only by a centimeter, enough to take a breath, but not enough that you can’t purse your lips and reach him again. 

“Holy shit,” he breathes into your mouth. “You’re… you’re everything, Y/N.”

There is no response you can muster for him in the state you’re in. All you can do is nod and slip your fingers into his hair. Pray he gets the message that yes, you’re everything and more. You’re unsure how long you stay that way, but you whine embarrassingly when he backs up to look at you better. He smiles at your reaction, his nose scrunching in admiration for you.

“Don’t laugh at my pain, Jungkook. Get back here.” 

You tug on his shirt, but he doesn’t budge. Another pout appears. He lifts your chin with his fingers, smiling and seemingly memorizing your face as he admires you. 

“Why don’t we eat first? Then we can talk,” he says.

“Talk? I don’t want to talk, I want —”

“I know,” he chuckles. “I do, too. But I think we should talk about it. I don’t think we should be rushing anything.”

Begrudgingly, you lead him into the kitchen where the food waits. The two of you eat. Well, he eats. You push the food around your plate while deep in thought. Jungkook notices your behavior while he’s chewing. A crease in his brow appears while he deciphers your change of attitude. 

“What’s wrong?” He says with a mouthful of rice. Your cheek falls into your hand, sighing as you scrape your fork around. “Baby.”

“Hmm?”

“Don’t do that,” Jungkook scolds you. “Talk to me.”

“Jungkook, you went through girls quicker than I could learn their names before all this,” you start. “So why do I get the 'let’s not rush things' treatment? Do you not want me like that?”

If expressions could speak, Jungkook’s would be saying you’ve got to be fucking kidding me.

“That’s a joke, right?”

“No, it isn’t. I genuinely don’t understand why I, your soulmate, am being rejected.”

“You are not being rejected,” Jungkook states. He ensures you’re hearing him by locking eyes with you. Staring you down so you know he means it. “I want you. You have no fucking clue how bad I want you.” A now familiar heat flares inside you. “But you are not like those other girls. You’re more special to me than I can even put into words and I don’t want to fuck this up.”

“But why?” You probe him. “Am I special because I’m me or because I’m your soulmate? Do you want me because you’re attracted to me or because the universe told you that you are?” 

Jungkook scoffs, your audacity is so much for him that he takes the time to move his plate into the sink. You hear another scoff while he’s washing it off. 

“You…” he starts, but stops to lick his lips. His eyes bore into yours with what you can only guess is a mixture of mild annoyance and curiosity. “We’ve spent nearly every day together for the past three months. I have watched every movie, read every book, and scrolled through every tik tok you’ve showed me. We cuddle in your bed watching anime together. You watch my soccer games and cook me a meal after every one.” He scoffs again just for good measure. “And you think you’re not special to me after all that? You think I’m not attracted to you? You! One of the most beautiful fucking girls on campus who I so luckily got paired with by the universe.” He throws his hands up and turns away. “Ridiculous.” 

“So…” You play with your hands in your lap. Part of you feels a little silly, but the other part craves validation. 

“So, no, it is not just because you’re my soulmate, Y/N. It’s because it’s you,” he answers, turning back towards you. “I like you.”

“But you still want to wait?”

Jungkook finally sits down again. He reaches for your hands and you gladly offer them to him. He presses his lips to your knuckles a couple times before holding both your hands between his own. 

“It’s not that I want to wait, I just don’t want to go too fast,” he says. “We just shared our first kiss. I haven’t even taken you on a date yet.” A giddy smile overcomes your features. “Let me woo you a little first, alright?” Your answer comes in the form of you leaning over to kiss him. He hums warmly, a soft chuckle breaking against your lips. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

Jungkook proceeds to hold his kisses hostage until you finish your dinner, which you promptly inhale and then purse your lips at him expectantly. If it was up to you, you’d kiss him until the sun comes up and your lips are raw. Unfortunately, Jungkook already knows you have a biology exam coming up and decides helping you study will be a better use of your time. It’s borderline cruel and unusual punishment. 

Jungkook makes you wait for your first date to happen. Not only is it exam season but he has a soccer game every Friday for three consecutive weeks. Once that glorious fourth Friday rolls around, he formally asks you out. The destination is a secret and he tells you to "wear whatever you want." This gives you pause because you can’t wear the same outfit to a restaurant that you can to go skydiving. Jungkook is certainly the type to pull a stunt like that. 

You meticulously curl your hair and delicately apply your makeup. This is the most important date of your life and you don’t want anything out of place. Jungkook deserves someone who puts in effort even when it’s unnecessary. Especially when this will be his first date ever. He’s never given his time of day to a girl for longer than a night. Even though he’s the one planning everything, you want it to be special for him, too. 

Nostalgia over this being your first date since ending things with Taehyung makes it difficult to push down the feeling of missing him. You were together nearly a year and a half and those memories don’t go away just because you’ve moved on. One day, you hope you can have him in your life again. Perhaps once he’s found his soulmate and you can put all the pain behind you. 

Three knocks tap against your door as you slip your dress on and ensure the placement is correct. It’s early in the season for sundresses but you enjoy driving Jungkook a little crazy. Trekking over the piles of clothes that didn’t make the cut, you open the door for him.

You’re met not with the handsome face of your soulmate, but a bouquet of bright red roses.

“Jungkook,” you gasp and take them from him. Hiding behind the large bouquet is Jungkook himself, smiling so wide you can’t see his eyes. “They’re so beautiful, thank you.” 

“You’re so beautiful,” he tells you. His eyes trace over your figure as he tongues the inside of his cheek. You swear you hear a quiet ‘damn’ leave his lips. He graciously accepts a kiss from you before entering your apartment. “Are you ready to go?” 

He’s wearing a dress shirt and slacks, as opposed to the usual baggy clothes he sports. The top three buttons of the shirt are undone to reveal just a sliver of his pecs. You could die happily right here and now. Your man is so fine it is physically painful to allow him outside where others can perceive him. 

Nodding in response to his question, you grab your purse and his hand before heading out. 

Contrary to where you think you’re going, Jungkook drives towards the countryside rather than the city. Your anxiety spikes when you realize he may actually take you skydiving. You watch him cautiously from your peripheral vision, but he only smirks and squeezes your thigh. 

After an eternity in anticipation, you realize where he is taking you when neon colored lights and a large ferris wheel come into view.

“No. Way.” You shift in your seat to turn towards him. “This is why we had to wait for our date. The carnival is in town!”

Jungkook’s smile appears in his eyes before it ever graces his lips. He steals a glance at you to watch your eyes light up excitedly. 

“You like it?”

“Are you kidding?” You look down. “Wait, Googie, I’m in a dress.”

“Don’t worry, I stole some of your clothes the other day for you to change into,” he explains.

“You know, if I wasn’t crazy about you that would be really creepy,” you respond. “What about you?”

“I can wear this.”

He looks down to double check. 

“Oh, thank god, if you change out of that anytime soon I’ll be so pissed.”

Jungkook parks and turns around in his seat to grab the clothes he brought for you. It isn’t exactly easy changing in his backseat, but at least he has tinted windows. A true gentleman, he even turns away from you while he waits patiently outside. 

When you step out in the jeans and blouse he chose, his eyes flicker with pride. Shoving him in annoyance that his outfit looks even better on you than the dress does, you tell yourself you would’ve picked it for tonight if he hadn’t stolen it first.

Jungkook back hugs you while you wait in line to enter the carnival. Your fingers absentmindedly trace the only tattoo on his left arm, mapping the familiar curves of your name. When he recognizes the feeling and realizes what you’re doing, he nuzzles his face in your neck and pecks your exposed shoulder. 

Comfort spreads through your chest when you stare at the black ink against his honey-toned skin. The absolute doll of a man attached to your back was hand-picked for you. Chosen by an incomprehensible force long before you would ever meet one another. You wonder how long ago your destiny was set in motion. Have you belonged together since the dawn of time? Your hands squeeze his arms in a feeble attempt to express everything you feel for him with your touch. The feelings are too extraordinary to ever describe with words. There are simply not enough of them in existence to accurately do so. 

It’s not merely the way he makes you feel as a soulmate. You’ve grown accustomed to the way your body naturally yearns for him and your heart calls to his. No, it’s the way he makes you feel simply because he’s Jungkook. Because he’s kind, gentle, and warm. Because he looks at you like you’re the only thing that matters and treats you just the same. 

You don’t love your soulmate. You love him. 

Your silent epiphany shakes the ground beneath your feet. This whole time you’ve been focusing on grieving one relationship and fostering another. Taking the time to learn everything you can about Jungkook. His likes and dislikes, favorite foods, colors, and books. There is an infinitely long list of all the things you want to accomplish as a partner to him. Love, or falling in love, didn’t even cross your mind. 

The sensation is the same as waking up and not remembering when you fell asleep. Sure, you remember closing your eyes, but not the exact moment you succumb to slumber. You have no idea when you fell in love with Jungkook, just that you are in love with him. 

Your reviere is broken by the sound of the tickets ripping as the teller hands them to Jungkook. He squeezes your hip and leads you into the bustling carnival. 

Mutually agreeing to eat first, Jungkook drags you by the hand towards the food stalls. He refuses to let you pay for a single item as he buys you both some actual dinner before giving in to your demands for a sweet treat. Ironically, he’s the one who ends up refusing to share. 

After successfully filling your stomachs you decide to conquer the rides one at a time. They’re all relatively small and easy-going, but still plenty of fun. Other than when Jungkook decides to spin the teacup so fast you think you’re going to either fly out or throw up. Probably both. 

Jungkook’s competitive streak makes an appearance once you’ve tried all the rides but the ferris wheel. He insists he’s going to win you a big stuffed animal. Says it’s a right of passage and he’s not leaving until he does.

You argue the right of passage is for a guy to try and win his girl a stuffie before utterly failing. Your argument fails to take into account Jungkook being magically perfect at everything. 

It only takes a single round of tickets for him to beat the game and win the jackpot. He looks back at you with a shit-eating grin and your eyes practically roll into the back of your head. 

“Which one do you want, princess?” He asks as you ponder the options. You gaze at his side profile and chuckle when you find your answer in the familiar curves of his features.

“The bunny,” you say with a proud smile. Jungkook looks at you knowingly before telling the staff member your choice. 

“You’re lucky you’re cute, ya know,” he says while holding your big pink bunny under his arm. The blush on his cheeks is completely betraying his words. 

Once the sun sets you agree to finish the night with the ferris wheel. At first, you’re not worried since it’s just a small carnival wheel. That quickly changes once you and Jungkook are seated across from each other in the little trolley.

Staring up at the rusted metal hinge that now holds your life in its delicate balance, you feel your throat drying up and your blood running cold. 

“Um, Jungkook,” you say through shaky vocal chords. “I kinda forgot to tell you I’m afraid of heights.”

Jungkook looks at you incredulously.

“You didn’t think to tell me that before we got on the ferris wheel?” 

“I thought it would be fine, but now that we’re going up I kinda wanna throw up,” you admit. 

Jungkook acts immediately, grabbing your hand and pulling you into his lap. The trolley shakes momentarily and you shout in terror before it levels out again. Your hands are clutching onto his shirt so tight you already see the wrinkles forming. 

“Is this better?” He asks as he runs his fingers through your hair. You nod ever so slightly as to not disturb the state of the trolley. As your heartbeat starts to return to its normal pace, you rest your head on Jungkook’s shoulder. “Are you happy?”

It’s hard to answer him accurately when the word happy doesn’t feel like nearly enough. 

“Of course I am,” you say as you lift your head. You turn his face so he can see your sincerity with his own eyes. “You know, when I first saw your name on my wrist I thought I had the worst luck in the world. That the universe was doing something so unfair and cruel.” Your fingers run along his collarbone. You're nervous to let him see inside your heart. “But I was very wrong. I’m so lucky to have you, Jungkook.”

The trolley shakes again with the force of Jungkook’s kiss. Your shout dies in his mouth as he swallows every noise you make. The kiss is definitely too nasty for the location you’re currently in. His hand is gripping your hair like reins, his mouth chasing after yours like he’ll never let you breathe again. You moan when his tongue slips into your mouth and he growls against your lips when you move your ass across his lap. He travels from your lips to your jaw slowly, one kiss at a time across the bottom of your face. You’re whimpering as soon as you feel him kissing your neck, his lips sucking at your skin before licking over the red blotches he creates.

“Jungkook… Jungkook, baby, we’re in public,” you stall his ministrations as you try to catch your breath. It’s then you notice that you’re already on the opposite side of the wheel, having completely missed when you reached the top. “Oh.”

“Pretty good distraction, huh?” 

Jungkook is wiping your lipgloss off his lips with the back of his hand. 

“You — hey!” He laughs loudly and buries his face in your neck where his lips were moments ago. You feign annoyance and push him away from you, but you’d go another round on the wheel if it meant he would keep distracting you like that. 

Jungkook helps you off the ride by offering you his arm to hold onto. Your legs are a little wobbly when your feet meet the ground again and you’re unsure if it’s from him or the ride. 

Before you leave Jungkook finds a spot with the perfect lighting to capture a selfie. You make sure to hold your bunny high enough so it gets in the photo too. Jungkook tongues his cheek when he notices it in the photo on his phone. 

Upon your return Jungkook takes you both back to his place across campus. You carefully place your plushie in the backseat along with your dress so you remember to grab them both tomorrow. Jungkook leads you up the stairwell and unlocks the door before stepping aside to let you through first. The door shuts with a click behind him. 

The air is thick with an unspoken promise. The heat and tension sparking between you is new but certainly not unwelcome. Jungkook toes off his shoes and offers you something to drink, passing you by with a skim across your back as he heads to the kitchen. 

He’s uncharacteristically nervous. You’re unsure why when once upon a time there was a different woman in his bed each night. Has his six months of celibacy made him antsy? You feel guilty that his predicament sends butterflies flying in your stomach. The playboy bunny himself being nervous for your first time sleeping together makes you feel all the more special. 

You follow him into the kitchen and wrap your arms around his waist as he stands at the sink drinking a glass of water. He gestures for you to drink some, but you shake your head against his back. You can hear his heartbeat pounding rapidly in his chest. 

“Googie.” You grab his shoulder to turn him around. “We don’t have to do this, you know.”

He smiles affectionately, caressing your face. 

“It’s not that, princess,” he says. Your brow creases in confusion, so he continues. “I just don’t know how to make you feel even half of what I do when I’m with you. What you said to me on the ferris wheel… I don’t know how to express how much that meant to me. I don't know how to show you that I feel the same.” 

“You don’t have to,” you answer like it’s obvious. “I already know.”

He shakes his head at that. 

“No, you don’t,” he responds. “There aren’t words.”

“Then don’t use words.”

Your response beckons a silence between you. There’s no sound other than your breathing and the faint hum of utilities. 

Jungkook takes a deep breath, the hand still on your face slowly tracing your outline until it reaches your waist. 

“Okay,” he whispers assuredly. 

He yanks you off the ground and your legs latch around him while your arms tangle behind his head. You kiss him first, using your mouth to coax his lips open. He moans at the same moment his hands press you impossibly closer to him. He pushes stray hairs out of your face and cradles your neck to take control of the kiss. You’re aware of him carrying you away, but you have no semblance of where he’s going because he’s kissing you too deeply to pay attention. 

It isn’t until your butt meets the softness of his mattress that you even realize you’re in his bedroom. Jungkook is quick to leave your lips so he can unbutton his shirt, but you swat his hands away before he can successfully undo the first button. 

“Nuh uh, my job,” you say as your fingers replace his own. You use the grip on his clothes to pull him so he’s standing between your legs. You kiss the skin that’s revealed as each button is undone, groaning against his skin when you reach the tight abdominal muscles you’ve been longing to get your hands on. 

Jungkook is helpless above you, panting deeply while he watches you work. Standing to push the material from his shoulders, you kiss him again. This time you take it slow, moving your lips in a tortuous rhythm while your fingers trace his biceps, nails digging into the muscles. A low growl reaches your ears and all you want to do is make him do it again. 

Jungkook finds the hem of your top, letting his hands skirt beneath it to feel your bare skin before peeling it off of you. His eyes sharpen when he gets the first real look at your chest covered by your bra. Fingers tracing ever so gently from your waist, he cups your chest and massages you. 

“Oh,” your head tilts back as you moan at the feeling of him traversing your body. He takes advantage of your movement to connect his lips to your neck. Messy, wet kisses are placed all over your throat and collarbones. 

He sits you back down on the bed without ever stopping, lying you on your back and climbing over you. You arch so he can unclasp your bra behind you. He stops kissing you for a moment so he can watch while he pulls the straps down your arms. 

“Fuck, baby,” he curses at the sight of your bare chest for the first time. “You’ve always been perfect, but damn.”  

You can only convey a giggle in response as you gesture for him to come back with your pointer finger. He obliges, kissing you again while caressing one of your breasts. His hands are rough on your sensitive skin, but the feeling is pure bliss. He pinches your nipple to harden it. Once he’s done with one he moves to the other and repeats the process until he can feel it pebble beneath his fingers. 

Jungkook is slowly grinding himself against you and you swear you’ll come completely untouched. His cock is hardening with each hump of his hips and it meets your covered pussy perfectly every time. 

“Fuck, Jungkook,” you moan. 

“I know, I know,” he whispers. “Fuck, I can’t wait to be inside you.” He grabs your hips to grind even harder against you. “You drive me crazy.” You’re aching to touch and feel every inch of his skin. Jungkook begins to grant your wish when he moves away to unbutton your jeans and tug them down your legs. When he’s done, his hands take their time feeling your ankles and calves, inching far slower than you want him to before he reaches your thighs, pulling them apart. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this.”

He throws his head back with a pornographic groan at the sight of your wet underwear. You watch helplessly as his Adam's Apple bobs with the need to taste you. His hands continue their mapping of your thighs, alternating between squeezing and caressing them. And then he’s making himself comfortable, kneeling before his bed and tugging you down so you’re right where he wants you. 

“How long?”

“What?”

“Exactly how long have you wanted me?” There’s an answer waiting on the tip of his tongue. “Before or after?”

“After,” he says. You pout. “Hey, need I remind you that you were my best friend’s girlfriend before?”

“Yeah, but you saw me first,” you retort.

He doesn’t answer yet. His lips find purchase on the meat of your thighs, leaving a wet trail behind as takes his time kissing across your supple skin. 

“You’ve always been beautiful to me, Y/N,” he finally says, speaking directly into your skin. “But you wanted something I couldn’t offer and Taehyung could.”

Jungkook returns to his prior task except on the other thigh. The feeling of his lips all over you is indescribable, but the knowledge that he’s worshiping you inch by inch is what makes you dizzy. It feels like he’s trying to memorize you so he can recreate it later in his mind. As if this is the last time rather than the first. 

“Jungkookie, please,” you beg him. His face is centimeters away from where your pussy is leaking just for him. You think you’ll cry if he doesn’t touch you soon. 

He only hums before kissing you through your underwear. Your hips jump and his hand slaps against your stomach to keep you still. He’s slowly making out with your cunt through the lace of your underwear. It’s pure torture, but you can’t bring yourself to complain. His mouth feels so unbelievably good even through the fabric. 

“You’re so fucking wet, princess,” he moans against you. The vibration makes you twitch again, and he wraps his arm around your thigh to steady you. “Can drink your cum right through your panties.”

You whine pathetically. 

“Please, my love.”

Jungkook’s eyes soften, but you’re too far gone to realize the reason why. He kisses your hip bone with an adoring moan. But when his eyes dance over your figure again, watching your tits rise and fall in time with your shaky breath, they’re sharp and possessive once again. 

He sits back only to pull your underwear down your legs and tuck it into his back pocket. You clock the movement instantly, eyebrows raising at him. 

“I need something to remember tonight by, don’t I?” 

He doesn’t give you the chance to reply before he’s situating your thighs over his shoulders and kissing your clit. 

“Oh shit,” you curse.

There is a jolt of electricity that burns across your inner thighs and abdomen before simmering into an unrelenting heat. Whether it’s a soulmate thing or a Jungkook thing, you can’t bring yourself to care. All you know is you need more, more, more.  

His tongue is circling your clit before going back and forth, then trailing down to flatten against your slit. His lips come into play as well, kissing your pussy ravenously. He licks into your hole, moving his tongue in and out of it before returning to your clit and doing it all over again. When he laps at your pussy, it feels like he’s trying to drink you dry, tongue curling to bring your essence into his mouth. 

He never once stops making noise against you, grunting and groaning at the way you taste. Whispering how you "taste s’good" directly into your cunt. His hand disappears from your thigh and you realize he’s palming himself while he pleasures you. The thought alone is enough to make you cream right then and there. 

He returns to your clit to suck it into his mouth, letting his teeth graze it softly. You squirm beneath him but his arm is holding you taut. Without warning you feel two of his fingers circling your hole before pushing in. You cry out, back arching off the bed from the pressure. 

Jungkook allows his mouth to take a momentary reprieve, resting his head on your thigh while he slowly pulls his fingers in and out of you. He watches intensely as his fingers come out soaked in your juices before going back in with a squelch. 

“So pretty like this, baby,” is the last thing he says before his mouth is on you again. His fingers begin to pump faster, curling inside you and meeting just the right spot to send your mind spinning. His mouth is relentless against your clit, kissing and sucking on it before soothing it with his tongue. 

You’re on the precipice of an orgasm and you know Jungkook can feel it. Can feel the way your walls pulse around his fingers, begging for release. 

“There you go,” he whispers into your cunt. “Come for me, Y/N.”

And who are you to deny him? Your orgasm hits you like a fucking freight train, a needy cry coming from your throat while you back arcs off the bed. Thighs shaking and practically crushing Jungkook’s head between them. Nevertheless, he continues kissing your clit and fingering you until he hears your breathing even out and your body still. 

As soon as his touch is gone, you whimper from the emptiness. Jungkook meets you back at your lips, allowing you to taste yourself on him. Your hands grab his head to keep him there so you can properly thank him for his hard work. He deepens the kiss with his tongue, fighting against yours for dominance. When he inevitably wins, you moan around the wet muscle. 

He begins kissing your face all over starting from your cheek and then down your jaw before moving up again to your nose and continuing upward to your forehead and hairline. 

“You were so good, baby,” he tells you. “Everything I could’ve ever asked for.” 

You hear the sound of a belt coming undone and pants unzipping. Jungkook stands so he can kick off his jeans. The first thing you notice is a wet patch on his boxers. Your head ticks to the side. 

“Oh no, that’s all precum, baby,” he answers your silent question. “Nearly did come in my fucking pants, though. Thank you very much.” 

“Oh? I'm flattered.” You come up to your elbows to see him better. He shakes his head with a lazy grin on his face before moving towards his dresser. “Where do you think you’re going?”

Jungkook looks at you in confusion, as if the answer is obvious. 

“I’m grabbing a condom,” he explains.

You tilt your chin down with a piercing gaze. 

“Do you think I want to feel my soulmate through a condom? I’m on birth control,” you say. Jungkook’s mouth drops open in awe and he waits for you to reaffirm what you just said. You mimic his expression and nod slowly so he gets the picture. 

“Oh, hell yes!” Jungkook scurries back over to you in a flash. You cover your mouth with your hand to stifle your giggle. He’s so freaking cute even when he’s about to fuck you into his mattress. 

He’s climbing back over you now, pushing at your shoulder to lay you back down beneath him. He runs his hands up and down your waist before cupping your breasts. Just when you think he’s going in for a kiss, his head dips to take a nipple in his mouth. 

You moan as his tongue flicks over the nub and then circles it. His hand gives attention to your other nipple by rolling it between his fingers. Hands twisting into his dark hair, you tug until he releases and kisses you instead. You pull on his hair, letting your nails scratch his scalp. He grunts and you do it again a little harder to make him repeat the sound. 

“Jeon Jungkook,” you speak against his soft, swollen lips. “I need you inside of me.”

Not needing to be told twice, he rises to his knees and hooks his fingers into the waistband of his boxers to pull them down. Only, instead of moving them he merely snaps them back against his hips with a devilish smirk. 

You glare at him, reaching up to do it yourself before he smacks your hand away. 

“Ask me nicely,” he orders. 

You want to laugh and cry at the same time. This man is the biggest tease you’ve ever met and you feel like you’re going to lose your damn mind. 

“Jungkook…” you rise to your knees as well, crawling over to him. “Jungkookie…” you let your hands take a stroll across the expanse of his abs and chest until they’re digging into his shoulders. “Googie…” you lean in so you’re speaking directly into his ear. “Will you pretty, pretty please fuck me?”

This man loses his damn marbles. You shout as you’re thrown back onto the bed with a soft bounce. He rolls his boxers down his thighs and kicks them off as you’re trying to catch your breath. It’s no use because the second your soulmate’s cock is in your face you no longer know how to breathe. You fear you will need to be retaught before the night is over. 

Your jaw drops and you’re surprised you don’t drool all over yourself at the sight. Jeon Jungkook is pretty all over. His dick looks painfully hard, his precum dripping from the tip just waiting for you to taste it. It’s large, perfectly thick, beautifully veiny, and curves at the perfect angle to hit just the right spot. You think you may die the second you feel it inside of you. 

Jungkook is on top of you before you can admire his physique any longer. His tip rubs deliciously against your clit as he coats himself in your wetness. You groan impatiently as he teases you with his cock. 

He places one hand next to your head, the other on your hip so he can guide himself into you. You both watch in awe at the space where your bodies connect. Before Jungkook takes the plunge, he kisses you one more time. You smile into it. Unable to resist the physical manifestation of the happiness bubbling in your stomach. 

That smile is gone the second his tip pushes past your hole, replaced with an O shape as you gasp at the intrusion. Jungkook takes his time, whether for your sake or because he’s committing this moment to memory, you aren’t sure. 

You feel impossibly full as his cock stretches you open. Moaning without end, you hold onto Jungkook’s shoulders to keep yourself afloat. When he finally bottoms out with his hips pressed against yours, you see every star in the galaxy all at once. 

If you thought your first kiss was euphoric, this is another feeling entirely. Your body is pulsing and hot from the ecstasy, but your soul is floating in the Dead Sea. Above the surface tension of the water as a cool breeze blows.

You know precisely what a soulmate is now. One person split in half and destined to find one another. Because when Jungkook is inside you, connected with you in the most human way possible, you feel complete. It’s mind numbing. His cock is throbbing inside you and it feels like coming home. 

Jungkook’s forehead rests on yours as he pants. Your hands slide from his sweaty chest to caress his cheek. He must feel the same, and in fact you’re positive he does. There is no confirmation necessary when his soul is bound to yours. 

“You — fuck, baby — you feel amazing,” he tells you. 

You can only nod in agreement, too overwhelmed by the sensations to speak. Grinding your hips up against him, he registers it accurately as you telling him to finally move. 

When he does, it’s a slow pull away from you, leaving just his tip inside before pushing himself back in just as slowly, but he rolls his hips into you, forcing his cock in so deep you feel him in your stomach. 

The moan that rips from your throat is embarrassingly loud, but you are no longer on a plane of existence where you care. Jungkook, on the other hand, doesn’t want a noise complaint. His hand covers your mouth as he shushes you. He leans over so he can speak directly into your ear.

“Be good, baby. I need you to stay quiet for me.” The sound of affirmation is muffled behind his hand but he watches you nod at his demand. Your eyes are peering up at him like they’re awaiting his next instruction. He groans at the gorgeous sight. “God, you’re so sexy.”

He’s still thrusting into you slowly. He watches as his cock comes back out covered in your cum. You moan every time he enters you despite his earlier request. 

When you disobey him, he looks at you with a dangerous twinkle in his eye. His hand moves away for only a moment before his two middle fingers push into your mouth. You gasp around them, but he presses down on your tongue with the pads of his fingers. You close your mouth around his digits and suck, moving your tongue around and in between them. 

Jungkook is mesmerized by the way his tattoos disappear between your lips. Once he’s satisfied with your makeshift gag, he thrusts hard and then snaps his hips back to do it again at an inhuman pace. If his fingers weren’t in your mouth you’d be screaming bloody murder. Tears of pleasure roll down the sides of your face as he fucks into you relentlessly.

His fingers leave your mouth and grab your chin instead so he can kiss you. His body weight is on you now as he uses his forearm to keep himself up. Feeling his chest against yours as he fucks you is enough to send you into complete madness. Your nipples are hard and sensitive as they brush against his muscular pecs. 

“Baby,” you cry. He kisses your jaw and neck without ever slowing his pace. You feel your mind descending into complete chaos. Your fingernails scratch down his back, leaving red welts in their wake. It’s the only thing you can do to hold onto some semblance of your sanity. 

“Fuck, do that again,” Jungkook groans into your neck. You oblige him and he growls next to your ear. “You’re so tight, so goddamn perfect for me.” 

“You're so big, Googie,” you whine. “Feel so good.”

“Shit, princess,” he says while biting into the flesh between your shoulder and neck. Your gasp turns into a moan as he soothes the area with his searing hot tongue. 

Then, he pulls out of you, sitting back on his heels as he tries to catch his breath. You reach for him in confusion, but he just takes your hand and kisses the back of it. Holding it against his heart so you can feel the intense beating. 

“Is everything okay?” 

Worry creases your brow, but Jungkook just smiles as one of his fingers smooths it away. 

“Yeah, I was just about to bust, but I’m not done with you yet,” he answers breathlessly. “So, I had to pause. My apologies.”

You can appreciate a man who strives to make his woman come before him, but he’s also turned you insatiable, so you need to do something.

Sitting up, you travel down the bed until your face is directly in front of his throbbing dick. His eyes follow your every movement, his eyebrows disappearing behind his bangs.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

Allowing him to see the smirk on your lips for only a moment, you open your mouth and flatten your tongue against the underside of his cock. His entire body spasms and you can see his abdominal muscles constrict in front of your eyes. You make eye contact with him in case he has any objections, but when he just stares back at you with his mouth agape, you continue your ministrations. 

You lick him again all the way from base to tip before circling his head with your tongue and lapping up the precum that’s formed in a bead there. One hand squeezes his thigh while the other slowly pumps his cock. All you can see above you is his throat. He has his head tilted back as he groans endlessly. The veins in his neck are popping out and it makes you want to lick over every single one of them. 

Continuing to tease him with your tongue, you lick gently over just his tip while your hands do the rest of the work. Jungkook’s head snaps towards you when he hears you spit. He watches as the saliva falls onto his head before you use your lips to rub it in. 

“Oh, dear god,” Jungkook gasps, seemingly to himself. 

Lips finally wrapping around his dick, you suckle on his head before slowly inching down his shaft. Your hand moves to his balls to make room for your mouth. Jungkook’s thighs are shaking beneath your fingertips and he finds purchase in your hair, wrapping the strands around his fingers as if it’s the only thing keeping him grounded. 

Once you’ve made a single sweep down his cock, you pull back slowly, allowing your tongue to glide along the underside. You twist the muscle around his head before finally setting a steady pace and sucking him up and down.

You make it messy for him, because he deserves it. Breathing through your nose and keeping your tongue out to lick him as your head bobs. Drool pools in the corners of your mouth before dripping down your chin. When your nose is as close to his pelvis as you can go, you allow it to drip down his balls so you can work them with your hands. 

Jungkook looks like he may die, but that you’re the angel who’s going to bring him to heaven. His features are drawn tight, eyebrows almost kissing. His mouth refuses to close, panting out breaths like the sexiest dog you’ve ever seen.

The logical part of your brain knows that sucking him off doesn’t solve the issue at hand, but he tastes too delicious to stop. And when the hand in your hair begins pushing ever so slightly followed by his hips bucking into your mouth, you moan deliriously around him. You gag as Jungkook gently uses your mouth for his own pleasure. Letting him take over, you grip his thighs and just go along for the ride. He grunts from above as he watches his cock disappear over and over again into your mouth. 

“You look so sexy like this, princess,” he says over strained vocal chords. “Like your lips were made for taking my cock.”

Your bratty nature wants to correct him and tell him that they are in fact, made for him. You have a tattoo that says so. Instead, you relish in the vibrations of your responsive moan giving him even more pleasure. 

The sound of your spit sliding along Jungkook’s shaft and your gags as he fucks into your mouth is so pornographic you worry you’ll get a fine for filming illegal movies on campus. His melodious grunts and moans are music to your ears. You’d let him use you like this everyday if it meant listening to them.

Before you can savor the moment for much longer, Jungkook pulls you away with a growl. You gasp, your hand grabbing at your throat as you cough. 

The sweetest man you’ve ever known, even while in the throes of pleasure, leaves the bed to bring you water. You’re still trying to catch your breath when he bends down and tips the bottle against your lips so you can drink. 

“Thanks,” you croak. Sore throat be damned, you’d start sucking him again right now if he asked. He pushes your sweaty hair away from your face with both hands, cradling your face like you’re made of porcelain. 

“You’re a fucking goddess, you know that?” 

A strained laugh comes from you.

“I do, in fact,” you quip. Jungkook kisses you senseless instead of replying. Before he can lay you down again, you push him instead. His back meets the footboard of his bed as you place your legs on either side of his thick thighs. “Are you ready to continue or shall I get myself off?” 

Jungkook laughs humorlessly. 

“Sit on my cock before I make you.”

If words could make you come…

As filthy as his words are, his hands still help guide over him and massage your skin while you sink down. You moan in unison, your mouth finding the mole on his neck that you’ve been dying to kiss. Hips grinding down against him, you mark him as yours as you kiss and suck on the sensitive skin of his throat. 

His hands are spread across your back as you rise up and down on his dick. He’s moaning so beautifully next to your ear that you don’t think you’ll ever stop. You repeat the motion over and over, allowing your clit to grind along his pelvis every time you sink back down. The pace is torturously slow, but it allows you to feel every vein and ridge of his cock as it moves in and out of you. 

“I never wanna stop,” you admit. “Don’t ever wanna not have you inside me.”

“I think I can make that happen,” he says over a chuckle.

Your lips meet again and you kiss at the same pace your bodies move. Jungkook’s mouth and tongue explore yours like he hasn’t done it a hundred times already, like every sensation is still new. He bites on your lower lip, pulling it away before letting it go so he can watch it bounce back. He doesn’t waste a second before diving back in for more. 

The warmth of Jungkook’s hands leaves your back and reignites on your hips. His grip is bruising as he uses it to bounce you faster against him. Your moans grow in pitch, but you muffle them by biting and kissing along Jungkook’s shoulder. When the pace still doesn’t feel like enough, Jungkook plants his feet on the bed so he can thrust up into you. You scream into his skin, holding onto his back and hair for dear life. 

“You close?” He rasps in your ear, licking your earlobe as he does. 

“Yes, baby, please,” you cry. 

Jungkook goes into overdrive, thrusting up into you at a speed and depth that feels impossible. The tip of his cock is hitting your g-spot over and over again like a magnet. You can feel yourself falling over the edge any second. 

His pursuit to bring you pleasure is relentless. The friction of his thick cock inside your walls is creating hot tears of ecstasy that roll down in droves. Your bodies are touching in every possible place they can and it still isn’t enough. You know Jungkook feels the same when he squishes you against him like he’s trying to merge you into one. 

Jungkook kisses down the side of your face with wet smooches. Slobbering all over you and getting saliva in your hair. Sweat, spit, cum, you want him to paint you in all of it. Ruin you so endlessly you’ll never be able to look another man in the eye. It’s him, him and only him. Every fiber of your being is filled to the brim with just Jungkook. Jungkook. Jungkook. Jungkook. You fear you’ve forgotten every other word. 

“I’m gonna —”

You stop his sentence with a searing kiss, moaning into his mouth as you come undone around him. Your cunt pulses and squeezes around Jungkook so tightly he can barely thrust anymore. Luckily, he doesn’t need to because with a few more pistons of his hips he’s groaning and nestling his cock as deep as it can go as he comes. You feel the warmth of his cum filling your pussy and dripping out around his cock to pool into his lap below. He’s still rolling his hips against you as his orgasm wanes. 

Even once the comedown ends, neither of you move. Your head is resting against Jungkook’s chest, his leaning back against the wall. He rubs your back lovingly. You focus on the feeling of his fingertips traveling up and down your spine. Before the repetitive motion can send you to dreamland, he pries your head up so he can see you. 

“I don’t know what I did in my past life to deserve any of this,” Jungkook muses. You mull it over for a moment.

“Whatever you did, I’m sure you were amazing at it,” you reply warmly. Jungkook nuzzles his nose against yours.

Jungkook is careful when he finally pulls out, not wanting to hurt you after abusing your pussy in the name of pleasure. You whine at the emptiness, but he kisses your pouty lips before leaving to find something to clean you with. 

Sleep overtakes your mind before he returns. You’re in a daze as you watch him clean between your legs with a warm towel. He cleans himself off as well before joining you in the bed. By the time he’s pulling you into his arms your eyes have closed. He wishes you goodnight with a press of his lips to your forehead. You don’t hear the other words he whispers to you. 

Jungkook finds it impossible to keep his hands off you after that night. Frankly, you go at it like rabbits on crack. It begins to impede on your day-to-day life and neither of you give a damn. You nearly delete an entire assignment by accident because he’s eating you out under your desk. He risks a suspension from the soccer team by shoving his dick in your mouth in the locker room. You swallow his cum just as people begin to pile in for practice. 

Despite your best efforts, you do eventually stop fucking across every corner of campus. School ramps up and Jungkook is promoted to head striker so he’s away at practice more often. Before his first game in the lead position, he gives you his spare jersey to wear. 

Your mouth hangs open and you just stare at him because you can’t believe he’s serious. When he nods with the softest smile and stars in his eyes, you squeal like a schoolgirl. He sneaks his hands below your shirt and caresses your waist before pulling it over your head. Once you’ve pulled the jersey on and tucked it into your jeans, you look at him in affirmation. 

“What do you think, lucky number 7?”

Jungkook doesn’t answer. At least not verbally. He just pulls you close by the fabric of the jersey and kisses you. The kiss is soft, but undeniably passionate. His lips move against you sensually even though there’s no heat behind it. He kisses the corner of your mouth, your nose, your eyelids, all before returning again. You let him create a map of your visage with his lips. 

When he wins that night, the jersey is the only thing left on your body as he makes love to you on the couch. 

You begin forming a routine as a couple, but it’s never complacent. There’s still romance in everything you do, even if you’re doing it for the hundredth time. As time moves forward, so do you and the past heartaches don’t weigh on your chest as heavy anymore. Your mind still wanders into painful territory every once in a while, but you’re confident in your ability to lay the past to rest. 

It helps your endeavor when the aforementioned past comes to greet you one day.

A tap on your shoulder stirs your from your inner thoughts as you walk the familiar path to the library. Turning towards the source, your feet skid to a stop when you see Taehyung rocking back and forth on his heels. 

“Hey,” he says as he kicks at a pebble near his foot.

“Hi,” your tone reveals your confusion. 

“Can we talk?” Chewing on your bottom lip, you don’t need much time to decide before you’re nodding. “I just wanted to say that I’m sorry. Looking back, after some time and much needed self reflection, I realize that you got your heartbroken just as bad as mine.” 

“You do?”

“Yes,” he affirms. “At the time, it seemed like I was the odd man out. Sure, you and Jungkook would be losing me, but you had each other. And I was left with no one.”

“It didn’t have to be that way, Tae. You chose to walk away from us,” you reply. “From Jungkook, specifically.”

“I know. I see now how big of a mistake that was,” he continues. “I’m going to try and catch him later after practice to apologize to him, too.”

“Good,” you say. “He deserves it even more than I do.”

Taehyung agrees with a nod. 

“Are you happy? With… with Jungkook.” 

You hate the way his mouth is still turned down and his eyes don’t shine anymore. It’s obvious how sad he still is, and yet he’s here apologizing to you. You appreciate his conviction.

“I am,” you answer. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t miss you. I know it will never be the same, but I’d like to have you in my life if possible.” 

“I’d like that, too,” he responds. 

You say goodbye shortly after that and there’s a sense of closure that fills you up from the inside after your conversation. For whatever reason, finally turning the page on Taehyung’s chapter in your life makes you want to keep pushing forward even more. Including finally letting a special someone in on the secret you’ve been holding close to your heart. 

Jungkook mentions he’s coming over after practice which means you have a couple hours to decide how you want to spill the beans. You could always just say it, but that feels far too anticlimactic. 

Sitting in your kitchen, your fingers play an unknown melody against the table as you ponder your options. It’s only when your eyes land on a certain ingredient in your cabinet that you realize exactly how you want to accomplish this. 

Your soulmate has his own key now, mostly because you were sick of leaving your bed to let him in. But also because one time you lost your key and he had to jimmy the window lock to get inside. You live on the third floor. 

The familiar taps of your fingers meeting the keyboard are the only sound until Jungkook’s voice rings out. He proudly declares that he’s home in a sing-song tone. 

“Dinner is in the kitchen,” you inform him. “I’ll meet you there in a second.”

Your nail slips between your teeth as you anxiously await for Jungkook to see your somewhat hidden message. Eyes looking towards the ceiling, you pray to the soulmate gods that he doesn’t dig into his meal before he can read it. 

You sense your prayers are answered when you hear a chair scrape across the floor and the sound of his footsteps coming towards you. Swiveling in your chair, you patiently await his arrival. 

When he enters the room, his eyes are sparkling and misty. In the good kind of way that makes you mirror his expression. His cheeks are pink with blush and he looks winded from his excitement alone. 

“You mean it?” His tone is pitched up. Giddy like a child on the playground. Trying to stop the smile from breaking out across your face is pointless. You allow that to be your answer.

Jungkook only needs two strides before he reaches you, and you stand in anticipation of what you know will come. A mixture between a shout and a laugh comes from your lungs when he lifts you into the air by your knees. You brace your hands on his shoulders as fits of laughter course through you.

“What are you doing? Put me down,” you order him. 

“Absolutely not,” he says with a shake of his head. “I want to hear you say it. Say it like you mean it, woman.”

“Wo—woman?” You chuckle. “Is that how you talk to someone who’s in love with you?” 

Any joking response dies in Jungkook’s throat when he hears the L word fall from your lips. He sighs deeply, so utterly content. He bends down until your feet are safely on the floor again. His hands cradle your face instead. 

“Say it again, please,” he begs. 

“I love you, Jungkook,” you state. 

His eyes close like you’re the sandman herself. So at peace he could fall into dreamland right where he stands. You can physically feel the tension leaving his body from where you’re holding him by his waist. 

“One more time,” he whispers, but his smirk gives him away. Your hand smacks his chest. He laughs. “Okay, okay, I’m sorry.” His eyes open again to stare into yours. You think you could spend forever just looking into the deep chocolate irises in front of you. Thumbs gently swiping across your cheekbones, Jungkook does a once-over of your pretty face. “I love you.”

It doesn’t matter if you knew he was going to say it, it still brings tears to your eyes and a smile that hurts your cheeks. 

“Really?” 

He nods.

“I am deeply, devastatingly, in love with you, Y/N,” he continues. His expression shifts. “But if you ever give me good news by spelling it out with alphabet soup again, I’m leaving you.” 

You have to resist the laughter aching in your chest, but when Jungkook is feigning anger with the cutest scowl, you just can’t help it. You laugh loudly before stifling it with your hand. It’s the single most ridiculous thing you’ve ever done and yet you don’t regret it one bit. 

Jungkook proceeds to show you the selfie he took with the now infamous bowl of soup. You can barely see his eyes in the photo because he’s smiling so wide. He’s holding up a peace sign next to the bowl of tomato soup with alphabet-shaped noodles that spell out I love you in the center of the broth. 

His name is the last you expected to appear on your skin, but it’s now impossible to imagine it being anyone else. As you trace the familiar lines of his name you whisper your thanks to whatever or whoever is in charge. 

[bunnyykoo]

“Kim Taehyung. That name makes your skin crawl. Kim Taehyung is your handsome, arrogant co-worker at HAUTE COUTURE, the hottest fashion magazine of today, who seems to get everything you want without as much as having to blink his cute eyes. He took your dream position of head of fashion, he seems to be loved by everyone and he thinks it is okay to shamelessly flirt with you (or anyone else in the office for that matter). When your boss tells the two of you to work together on the Special One-Hundredth Edition of HAUTE COUTURE your biggest nightmare becomes reality.”

Pairing: Taehyung x f.Reader

Genre: e2l!AU, Coworkers!AU, Smut, Angsty Romance

Warnings: This story contains sexually explicit scenes, morally grey characters and sexism in the workplace. If you are sensitive to such topics, I advice you read with care. 

Wordcount: 53.484

a/n: Italic indicates the OC’s thoughts.

#01 - I Hate You

#02 - You’re So Annoying

#03 - Actually You Aren’t That Bad

#04 - You’re Kinda Hot

#05 - I Really Like You

#01 - So Fucked Up

#02 - Call Me

#03 - Secret Meetings

#04 - Dessert

#05 - Doubts

[bunnyykoo]

Ten out of Ten

→ Summary: For the past three years, Kim Taehyung has made it his mission to annoy you relentlessly on campus, finding every possible way to drive you up the wall during your shared classes. However, as you both enter your senior year, something strange happens. Taehyung begins to sense a shift in his energy, realizing he might just have some secret feelings for you. What unfolds when you make this earth-shattering discovery too?

↠ taehyung x f.reader | 8.6k words | 18+ ↠ genre: smut, humor, college au, enemies to lovers, fratboy!bangtan

→ Warnings: explicit & unprotected sex, consensual drunk sex, shower sex, ‘revenge’ sex (all fun and games), alcohol consumption, party crashed by police, dirty talk, soft kissing, rough kissing, hard dom!taehyung, soft dom!taehyung, grinding, fingering, sloppy oral sex, cock swallowing, choking on tae’s cock, throat fucking, slight praising, begging, sense of ownership, size kink, taehyung has a huge dong, belly bulge, reader gets dicked down almost too good (if that’s a thing), breast & nipple play, riding, reversal, biting, teasing, cockwarming, creampie, cum play, cum eating, cum stuffing, spanking, choking ft. tae’s beautiful hands, pussy slapping, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, multiple sex scenes

→ Author note: Inspired by this popular post!! If you’d like to read this on ao3 instead it’s been crossposted here! As always, all likes, reblogs, and comments are appreciated <3

⋆˙⟡ m.list ⟡⋆⟡ ao3 ⟡⋆⟡ wips ⟡⋆⟡ updates ⟡⋆⟡ shadow realm ⟡˙⋆

“This is wrong. This is so wrong.” He moans after pushing you up against his closed bedroom door, “Are you sure? Are you drunk?” You roll your eyes.

“Stop trying to talk me out of this,” you whisper while leaving wet kisses along his jawline. You’ve waited too long. There’s no way in hell you’re stopping now. Lifting your head up and looking into his eyes, you continue, “I didn’t drink that much. I want this. I want you.”

He groans and presses his lips into yours yet again. “I swear this wasn’t my intention,” he says after pulling back.

You kiss him hard, but your quick attempt to shut him up doesn’t work.

“I promise it wasn’t,” he blurts, “I was just being honest, you know the rules of the game.” He pulls you close again as his lips flutter around your neck, causing an airy sigh to escape from your parted ones.

“No more talking. Please.” You pull his face back up and let his lips harshly reattach to yours. He proceeds to kiss you, slowing down when you try to speed things up.

“I just need you to know that I didn’t plan for this to happen,” he repeats.

“Taehyung!” You whine as your eyes tell him to stop worrying about it, “Shut up and kiss me.”

“I need to hear you say it. I need to make sure I’m not dreaming.”

You pull back slightly from his embrace to tug your shirt off, “Tae please,“ you beg between kisses, the slick from your heat seeping through your thin underwear, "Just fuck me already.”

Earlier that day…

“Taehyung! You asshole!” you holler while chasing after the guy who’s currently running along the sidewalk with your history paper in hand.

You finally catch up to him by the fountain that sits at the campus’s center, watching him nervously as he jokes around, holding the most important five thousand words you’ve ever written.

“I will kill you if you get a single drop of water on that! It’s due in ten minutes!” you threaten as he tosses the stapled paper between his hands. “Taehyung, please. I was up all night writing this. It’s worth forty percent of my grade,” you beg, really hoping he’ll take a step down before anything bad happens.

“Quit freaking out, I’m not going-” his words are short-lived as a gust of wind steals the paper from his loose grip. You both watch, completely horrified, as it flutters through the air in slow motion and falls directly down into the clear water.

“Oh no. No no no. Oh my god. I swear to god that wasn’t supposed to happen! I was just teasing!” Taehyung panics as he jumps through the fountain, slipping and thoroughly soaking himself further as rushes over to your sunken assignment. He wipes away the water on his face and retrieves the soggy paper lying on the vibrant tile below. Drops of ink run off the paper, smearing the barely legible words even more.

You feel as though you've momentarily forgotten how to breathe.

“Okay. It’s okay,” you say to yourself, trying to calm down, “Everything’s fine. It’s fine. I can just head back to the library and reprint it, I’d rather be a few minutes late for class than get a zero on this.”

“Uh, hmmm, yeah…” Taehyung clears his throat nervously, scratching the back of his neck while doing so. “About that…”

“Don’t say it,” you threaten anxiously. You internally beg that what you assume he’s going to say next is not true. It can’t be. You will it not to be.

“The library closed twenty minutes ago. It always closes early on Thursdays and Fridays,” He says sheepishly with a face full of remorse, though you doubt he actually feels it.

“Great,” you huff, “That’s just fucking great.” The calmness dissipates as rage takes over your body. “I honestly cannot believe you sometimes. Will you ever grow the fuck up? We’re not freshmen anymore! You can’t just dick around like this. Wrecking each others’ projects was funny three years ago when our grades didn’t matter but we can’t keep doing this. Just-” you take a deep breath to regain some of your calmness, “Get. The fuck. Away from me.” You rip your destroyed paper out of his hands and storm off in the direction of the building where your class is held.

Maybe that was a little rude. Actually, no, it wasn’t. He deserved it. He ruined your history paper. Intentionally, too.

“I’m coming with you, I’ll explain what happened,” Taehyung persists, somehow keeping up with your angry stomps as you head to class.

“Quit following me, I’m screwed enough as it is,” you grumble, knowing that he’s trudging along behind you even without turning around to confirm it.

His footsteps slow once you reach the outside of the history department.

Maybe he finally got the message.

“Ahhh, Miss Y/N. You’re late,” your professor says as you enter the quiet classroom and try to make your way to your empty assigned seat. He stops you before you can sit, “Do you have your paper ready to turn in?”

You shamefully drop what’s left of your paper into your professors’ hands.

“Is this your submission?” he asks, holding it up with his fingers, watching as the remaining water droplets fall to the floor. Your classmates snicker as they watch the scene in front of them unfold.

Yet, just as you're about to respond, the classroom door violently swings open, instantly capturing everyone's attention in unison.

“It’s my fault,” Taehyung pants after barging in.

“Excuse me, sir, who are you? And why are you dripping in my lecture?”

“What the hell are you doing here?” you quietly seethe.

“I considered heading to my class but I just felt too bad,” he says to you before turning to your professor. “It’s my fault her paper is soaked, I mean look at me. I am too. After an unfortunate turn of events - events that neither of us anticipated - it fell in the fountain and so did I. But you can see that…because I’m wet. Wet like water wet, not like the other kind of wet. That would be weird, considering… But probably more awkward than anything though. If I’m being honest. You know, my mother taught me that honesty is the best policy. So that’s what I’m doing here. Being honest…about me…and her paper, being, uh, you know, wet…”

It's unclear who is more astonished, you or your professor. Is this really happening right now? You’ve never heard Taehyung ramble like this. If you weren’t so stunned or feeling secondhand embarrassment for him, you would’ve probably laughed hysterically.

The older man gives Taehyung a once over, his eyes peering over his reading glasses as they travel up and down the damp clothes stuck to the twenty-something’s figure. Displeased, he turns to look at the disintegrating mess of your so-called paper that’s stuck between his fingers.

“Haha, yeah…so uh, I’m gonna go now,” Taehyung says as he finger guns to the door before anyone else can get a word in, “I hope this is resolved. And um, I’m going to make sure I never sign up for one of your classes, Mr. uh, I don’t know your name. But that doesn’t matter. Trust me when I say you won’t ever have to see me again.” And with that, he exits the class with the same amount of speed as he entered.

Your professor shakes his head in disbelief. “Email me your paper once you get seated and I’ll only dock you ten percent off from your original grade, as long as you promise that won’t ever happen again.”

“Deal.”

“He did what?” your roommate’s voice echoes from inside her bedroom as she makes her way into the kitchen where you’re reheating leftovers for dinner.

“I know! I could’ve killed him. I don’t know what it is lately, but he’s been irritating me more than usual. The way he just went on and on, rambling like a complete idiot. Ugh!” you mutter while waiting for the microwave to beep. The whole situation still has you mildly irate.

Sana gives you a pointed look.

“What?” you squint your eyes at her, “What does that face mean?”

“When are you two going to realize that you’re like, in love with each other? It’s always Taehyung did this or you did that. FYI, we’re all tired of hearing about it. Girl, I adore you and your little rants most of the time, but it’s exhausting listening to you two complain about each other literally all the time. We’re in the same friend group and it’s just so obvious to us all that you guys like each other, but are just stubbornly ignoring the facts that are so obviously right in front of you.”

“I’m going to pretend like you didn’t just say that. Dinner is done,” you say, brushing aside what you just heard. It’s too crazy to even think about.

You liking Taehyung? Taehyung liking you? Absolutely not. No way! That’s ridiculous, that’s just…almost crazy enough to be true.

The thought surprises you.

Sure, Taehyung is nice to look at. You’ve never questioned his attractiveness. But you drew the line a long time ago, knowing better than to allow yourself to grow any form of attachment to the guy who prefers to drive you batshit crazy.

It’s just easier that way. Yeah, sure, playing around and pissing each other off gives you some kind of satisfaction, but you don’t need him in your life. He isn’t that significant.

Or is he?

The more you think about it, the harder a time you have imagining your life without the messy-haired asshole who you’ve somehow grown to…love?

“Whatever, give me a bowl,” Sana says, pulling you from your thoughts before you’re able to dwell on the ‘L’ word very much. “I’m starving. And we need to eat quickly so we have enough time to get ready.”

“Oh, fuck me sideways,” you moan, annoyed with yourself for forgetting, “It’s Thursday.”

Sana’s boyfriend’s fraternity hosts a party every other Thursday night. There’s no way you’re getting out of it either, seeing as you promised her two weekends ago you’d go to the next since you bailed.

“Uh-uh! Don’t even start,” Sana warns. “You’re coming tonight whether you want to or not!”

A frat party is the worst kind of party in your opinion. Memories of the last one you attended float around your mind; wannabee rappers holding their phones by your ear so you can hear their ‘latest diss track’, girls arguing over a guy who doesn’t deserve either in your opinion, drunk couples practically fucking on the couch.

Oh, don’t forget about the pick me girl begging for attention or that guy who gets so fucking obnoxious and is willing to start a fistfight with anyone within an arm's distance. And lastly, the typical fuckboy that will say anything to get you into his bed. Yeah, frat parties are so not your thing.

But you promised Sana, and she’d hold it against you until the end of time if you didn’t go tonight.

You made a plan anyway. Show up, say hi to a few friends, have a few drinks, and disappear before anyone can notice you’ve made a run for it. Fingers crossed that you can pull it off.

The party is in full swing when you arrive, or so you are assuming since you had to step over someone passed out on the lawn on your way toward the front steps. The door is wide open, and Sana immediately spots her boyfriend Joon from across the room. His face lights up when he notices her waving dramatically and makes his way over to you two.

“She actually came? In the flesh? Y/N, is that really you?” Namjoon teases, obviously not expecting you to make an appearance.

“Hi, Joon. Good to see you too.”

“I was surprised, she didn’t even put up a fight about it tonight.” Sana giggles as soon as Joon pulls her into his arms for a sloppy kiss. You look away and scan the room, searching through the crowd of familiar yet vague faces.

“Sana! Get a room, girl!” one of them hollers, cheering her on as she shoves her tongue down her boyfriend’s throat.

She pulls back and flips off Yoongi, the culprit and one of Joon’s frat brothers, and walks further into the house, scanning the audience for tonight.

“Hey, think you could bring some of your single friends over? Preferably a random group of them with one specific person we all have in our mind. She needs to go home with a guy tonight,” she says to Yoongi as he walks over with drinks in hand for you and Sana.

Everyone seems to understand what she’s saying, other than you, who of course is oblivious yet again as to who they’re referencing.

“I heard you had a rough day,” Yoongi says, handing you one of the plastic cups with a sideways grin as you give Sana an agitated look after smacking her on the arm. But she doesn’t seem to acknowledge either and instead, smirks at Yoongi’s remark. “I have a certain person in mind. Let me see if I can find where he ran off too.”

Joon laughs knowing all too well what happened, "We’ll do our best, see you in a few.”

"Oh my god, Sana! I can’t believe you sometimes,” you whine after the guys are out of earshot.

"What? It’s not like I’m wrong! You need a good time tonight just to relax. You don’t have any Friday classes anyway so have some fun.” She shrugs her shoulders and walks away to say hi to some of her other girlfriends.

While she’s gone and the guys are hunting, you spot Taehyung leaning up against a bookshelf filled with novels you bet haven’t been touched in decades. You try your hardest to weave your way through the crowded area before he can notice you, but unfortunately, your eyes lock with his just as you’re squeezing through a group of girls you’ve never seen before. Freshmen, probably.

“What are you doing here?” you question, not even attempting to hide the annoyed tone in your voice when you feel his presence behind you.

“What do you mean, ’What am I doing here?’ I live here. What are you doing here? I thought you hated these sorts of things.”

"You live here?” you ask, ignoring his question as your head whips around. “I didn’t know you were in the same fraternity as Namjoon.”

“I didn’t know you didn’t know. Sorry?” He laughs as you take the last sip of your mystery drink. “Need another? I’m heading to the kitchen.”

“Uh, whatever you’re having,” you say. Alcohol is alcohol.

“Sure thing. Oh hey, Sana! Where’s Joon?” Taehyung asks, acknowledging that your sidekick returned, but without her significant other.

“Hey Tae, he’s in the Blue Room. Which is where I must drag you to,” she smiles devilishly, grabbing your arm to pull you away. Though unbeknownst to her, you would gladly go anywhere that’s away from Taehyung right now.

“Ahhh, is it already time?” he wonders out loud. “I’ll meet you there,” he says and leaves for the kitchen to grab drinks.

As you’re being pulled away, the only thought parading through your mind is how much you want to rip his head off for the stunt he pulled earlier, but also the multiple ways you can get your revenge on him for costing you ten percent on a paper that would have otherwise been an A+.

Sana pulls you into the second living room, the Blue Room as it’s ‘famously’ known for its somewhat derogatory, yet exclusive, activities. If you could call them that.

Only those invited are allowed to enter. You’re not sure why, but the guys take their rule pretty seriously.

You recognize nearly all of the people already in here, the majority being Namjoon’s frat brothers;

Seokjin; the one that’s always surrounded by both girls and guys. His presence easily fills the room and even without saying a single word he demands their attention.

Yoongi; the one that loves to start shit and can smell drama and sexual tension from a mile away. He knows how to push the right buttons to hear precisely what he wants.

Hoseok; the one who is always smirking about something that no one else seems to know. Not really a gossiper, but definitely knows everything about everyone.

Namjoon; the guy who everyone respects but still teases for being totally whipped for Sana. He’s a softie but can still kick anyone’s ass in mere seconds.

Jimin; the sweet one with a dark side you never want to get on. You’ve heard stories that will haunt you for a while.

And finally, Jungkook; the one who never knows what’s going on but is having a great time regardless. A happy dork who can make you laugh no matter what.

Somehow Taehyung fits into this group too, but you don’t know exactly where he stands yet.

The rest of the room consists of girls you’ve seen around campus and guys attempting to gain Seokjin’s total attention but would probably never get it. Although there are a handful of faces you haven’t seen before, which is refreshing.

It looks like everyone is getting ready to play Ten out of Ten, which is basically a drinking game to initiate party hookups, a ‘how much do you like me’ sort of thing.

To play, everyone in the room writes their name on a little piece of paper and it gets thrown into a bowl. The bowl then gets passed around and each person draws a name out of the bowl, but can’t look at the name until it’s their turn. One person starts and says the name on the paper they pulled and then rates the person a number out of ten if they would sleep with them or not. So then the person whose name was called would go next, and say who they have and rate them. Like a chain game, and you just have to say a number out of ten if you would bang them or not. It’s not really supposed to be a drinking game but somehow it’s become a tradition to take a shot after you say your rating, and especially if someone says ten out of ten - then everyone takes a shot.

Sana grabs two slips of paper and hands one to you. You write your name and hand the pen to her. ‘So much for a couple of drinks and dipping,’ you say internally, realizing that the game will last a while with this many participants. Hopefully, Taehyung remembers your drink. You’re going to need it.

You sigh and sit on the arm of the chair Sana is in as you wait for the game to start.

Out of the corner of your eye, you see Taehyung walking towards you with, thank god, a rather large cup in his hand.

“I hope this satisfies your alcoholic needs,” he jokes, “I made it the same way as mine, but with a little less alcohol since I didn’t want to fuck you up a lot."

You take it from him and raise the cup to your mouth. The scent is strong, and your eyes twitch after taking a small sip. He laughs at your quiet sputtering.

“I’ll be good after it hits me. Thanks.”

"Yeah, sure. No problem. And sorry about earlier, again. I know you’ll get me back soon enough and it will be well deserved,” He grins before walking over to sit next to Jungkook.

“Alright, alright.” Jimin starts as he walks around the room with the bowl in his hands, letting everyone grab a piece of paper while he goes over the rules for the newbies invited. The bowl makes its way around the room, and everyone tosses in theirs before Jimin shakes it up and starts letting people pull out a folded piece of paper.

Once everyone has one, he sets the bowl aside, “Everyone ready?”

“Wait, I didn’t get one,” Taehyung says looking around, somewhat confused and a little suspicious. Something’s going on. He just doesn’t know what exactly.

“Oh I didn’t know you were back already, this is the last one,” Jimin says, handing him a name slip, failing to hide the evil grin on his face. “Okay, let’s get this started!”

About ten minutes into the game, you are already feeling the buzz. Whatever Taehyung gave you is pretty damn good now that you’re drunk enough to not taste the alcohol. Meaning, you’re drinking more than you’re paying attention to the game.

Needless to say, you’re a little spaced out until you hear someone say your name. You look up and make eye contact with Taehyung from across the room.

He chuckles awkwardly and sits up. “Of course,” he mutters under his breath, not-so-silently cursing Jimin at the same time.

Taehyung has my name?

“Oh, please go on. We can’t wait to hear what you have to share,” Joon grins as Taehyung responds with a death glare.

The room goes silent in anticipation of what he’s going to say, especially your shared friends. They’re watching very intently as Taehyung takes a swig of his drink and curses again.

“Ten out of ten would bang,” he announces, pausing for a quick moment to take a shot along with everyone else, but you. You’re too awe and unable to do anything but gawk at him as he continues.

“But also ten out of ten would care for you afterward, ten out of ten would let you stay over, ten out of ten would tuck you in, ten out of ten would cuddle the shit outta you in bed, ten out of ten would make sure you fall asleep okay, and ten out of ten would make you breakfast in the morning.”

You’re sure you look crazy with your eyes popping out and your jaw nearly on the floor. Everyone else’s reaction pretty much mirrors yours. Everyone except Sana who is squealing like crazy next to you. A few of the girls glare at you as the guys whoop and holler.

You’re unsure how you feel about what just happened. If it even happened. Or if you somehow hallucinated the whole thing.

Did Taehyung just confess? Does that even count as a confession? Or was he just playing along with the game? Did the room get smaller? Why the hell is it so hot in here?

You take a deep breath, remembering that everyone’s eyes are still on you since it’s your turn, and yet you’re frozen in your spot.

Do they expect you to say something before you take your turn? Do you even want to say anything? Maybe he was joking, maybe you could laugh it off. Or maybe he meant it… What if he meant it?

You fiddle with the piece of paper between your fingers before deciding to unfold it and get on with it so you can get the hell out of this small room.

“Um. Woojin, six out of ten,” you spit out as quickly as you can and immediately get up to leave. You don’t even know where you are going, just following where your feet are taking you.

You have two options; you can either leave and face the wrath of Sana when she comes home - if she comes home - or you can hide somewhere until you can come up with a better plan while you attempt to sober up. The latter is what your subconscious goes with as your body stumbles upstairs to find an unoccupied bedroom to hide out in.

The first one was not locked but definitely should have been. Thankfully you didn’t see too much of the two who you found in a compromising position, and thankfully they probably won’t remember the incident in the morning either.

Fortunately, the next room you barge into is free. After shutting the door, you lean up against it and close your eyes while you focus on your breathing. Your heart is still racing as you try to not think about what happened downstairs.

Feeling calmed down enough, you open your eyes and look around. The first thing that catches your eye is the band posters that cover the wall. Everything from Sinatra and Dean Martin, to The Doors and The Rolling Stones, to Bad Omens and Bring Me The Horizon.

Whoever this room belongs to has good taste. For being a boy's room, it’s pretty clean too. Yeah, there are clothes spewn here and there, but it isn’t any worse than the state that you left your own room in.

Sighing, you sit on the edge of the bed and cover your face with your hands.

What now?

"Yeah, sorry to ruin your moment or whatever, but my room is off-limits. If you’re gonna puke or pass out I’d rather you find somewhere else to do it.”

You lift your head to see the one and only person you did not expect to see in your current confused state standing in the doorway. “Taehyung.”

“Oh,” he says, “It’s you. How did you know this was my room?”

“I didn’t. I was hiding.” Shit, you weren’t supposed to say that.

“Oh…” he says again, shutting his door so the noise of the party lessens. He walks over to sit next to you on the bed, "I was looking for you. After you, uh, ran out.” He hesitates to see if you say anything. You don’t.

“Look,” he begins, “I don’t want to make things awkward. I know we’re friends. Sort of. When we’re not trying to murder each other and all that. But I’ve been into you for a while now and I just can’t hide it any longer. If it’s okay with you, I’d like to take you out sometime."

Once again, you’re gawking.

"Oh god, are you gonna puke or something?” His eyes are panicky as he looks around the room for something you can use in case you do.

“No! No, I just, ahh…” It’s now or never, “Are you serious?”

“Yeah, I am.”

"And did you mean what you said earlier?” You say, referring to his confession in The Blue Room. You try to hide how hard your heart is pounding inside your chest. Just as you would have to hide how hurt you’re going to be when he says the inevitable.

“Well…” He trails off, and you prepare for the worst.

He wasn’t serious, it was some kind of joke, you misheard him, there was another person with your name in the room-

“Hello? Are you sure you’re not going to puke? You look a little pale.”

“I’m fine, was it a lie, just for the game?” you say leaning towards his body, his inevitably doing the same. “Or were you being honest?”

“I was being one hundred percent honest. And I still am. I like you, a lot. As hard as that is for me to admit.” His hand grazes yours and rests on top of it. He was half expecting you to pull away and run out of the room but is more than happy to realize that isn’t the case. Maybe you feel something too. His eyes burn into yours as he awaits your response.

It’s hard for you to admit your feelings as well. If you weren’t both so perfectly stubborn and bull-headed, you might have made this conclusion a long time ago.

You hate to admit that. You hate being wrong.

But Taehyung doesn’t feel wrong to you. His hand on yours feels so…right.

"Good,” you sigh in relief, finally giving in to your heart. You lean in closer and lightly brush your lips against his, pulling back to gauge his reaction.

Taehyung’s breath hitches. The moment you pull away he hastily stands up and moves to his door, his back pressed flat against the wooden surface while the angel and devil on his shoulders argue.

Fuck, he wants you. But he knows you’ve been drinking. And he would never put you in this position and knows how much he would hate himself if you woke up the next day regretting your drunk self’s impulsive decision.

“Don’t do that to me, fuck. I won’t be able to resist. I want to take you out first. You deserve to be taken out on a date first,” he says, running his hands through his hair. You get up and walk towards him. “Several dates. Shit.”

“You still can. But, you know, after you fuck me*.*” Feeling confident, you take another step closer to him. And then another. Until you are pressed up against his chest, listening to his heartbeat as your lips hover over his neck. Finally, his hand grabs the side of your face, pulling you in before he unleashes his lips onto yours. Teeth, tongue, and all.

“This is wrong. This is so wrong.” He moans after pushing you up against his closed bedroom door, “Are you sure? Are you drunk?” You roll your eyes.

“Stop trying to talk me out of this,” you whisper while leaving wet kisses along his jawline. You’ve waited too long. There’s no way in hell you’re stopping now. Lifting your head and looking into his eyes, you continue, “I didn’t drink that much. I want this. I want you.”

He groans and presses his lips into yours yet again. “I swear this wasn’t my intention,” he says after pulling back.

You kiss him hard, but your quick attempt to shut him up doesn’t work.

“I promise it wasn’t,” he blurts, “I was just being honest, you know the rules of the game.” He pulls you close again as his lips flutter around your neck, causing an airy sigh to escape from your parted ones.

“No more talking. Please.” You pull his face back up and let his lips harshly reattach to yours. He proceeds to kiss you, slowing down when you try to speed things up.

“I just need you to know that I didn’t plan for this to happen,” he repeats.

“Taehyung!” You whine as your eyes tell him to stop worrying about it, “Shut up and kiss me.”

“I need to hear you say it. I need to make sure I’m not dreaming.”

You pull back slightly from his embrace to tug your shirt off, “Tae please,“ you beg between kisses, the slick from your heat seeping through your thin underwear, "Just fuck me already.”

And just like that, the switch in his mind flips.

Taehyung wastes no time lifting you, bringing your clothed center up against his. You moan into his mouth feeling his hardness pressing into you through his jeans.

Your senses tingle, from the way his hands are holding your jaw, how his scent encompasses you, the roughness of hips grinding against yours, and finally - from the way his kisses deepen with urgency as he carries you back over to his unmade bed.

Once there, he leans you down gently before hovering over your body, letting his hands run along your hips as they make their way to the front of your pants. His fingers tease the skin alongside the waistline of your checkered jeans as he frantically works to undo them, pulling them and your panties off simultaneously.

Your eyes meet as his hand slides slowly up the inside of your legs, right up to your center. One of your hands covers your mouth as his fingers weave their way through your dewy folds, and dive deep into your core.

He grins wolfishly as they curl with each small thrust into you, and soft mewls pour out from your parted mouth. “That’s it, let me hear you,” he praises as his fingers continue their divine torture.

“Oh my god, Tae,” you cry out, reaching for him as his fingers quicken. “Closer. I need you closer to me,” you pant, grabbing his shirt in the process and ripping it open, giggling unapologetically as you hear the small buttons hit the floor.

His lips close around your earlobe, sucking slightly as his fingers continue gliding in and out of you, “You owe me a new shirt.”

“Consider it payback for the fountain.”

“Payback, shmayback,” he grins while pressing his thumb up against your clit, pulling a gasp from you.

“Oh shut up already and put your mouth somewhere it matters,” you say slyly while non-so-subtly pushing his head down your torso until he understands your intention.

“Yes, ma’am,” he breathes before tasting you. His tongue sliding between your folds is nearly enough to send you spiraling. And as if it isn’t enough already, Taehyung reinserts two fingers into your heat as he laps at your delicate clit, bringing you closer and closer with each lick.

The taste of your sweet center has his rock-hard member twitching in anticipation, but he refuses to rush this. He wants nothing more than for you to come all over his face.

He deserves it.

You deserve it.

Soon enough you’re shaking from your very core as the waves rip through your body. Taehyung presses your hips down as he takes all your body has to offer him.

“Holy shit,” you pant, that was undeniably one of the best orgasms you’ve ever had.

He releases your center with a loud smacking sound and leaves delicate kisses on the inside of each of your thighs, admiring the goosebumps he causes on your velvety soft skin, before moving upward to reattach his lips to yours in a sweet, yet needy, embrace.

Taehyung wraps his arms around you to unclasp your bra while you catch your breath, giving special attention to the soft mounds now held in his hands. Your fingers twist through his hair as his tongue decides to flick one of your nipples before covering it entirely with his mouth. He swirls his tongue around them slowly and gently biting down just enough to hold the hardened nub between his teeth.

“Mmm, I want you,” he whispers, working to undo his own pants this time.

You breathe heavily, “I want-,” the rest of the words caught in your throat as you take in his length. You never expected him to be lacking in that area, but he definitely is larger than what you had anticipated.

“Like what you see?” he smirks, rather enjoying how you gape at him.

“Yes.”

Taehyung swallows hard; your honesty turns him on even more, if that’s possible.

“First things first,” he says, pulling away to grab a condom from his nightstand. You stop him.

“No, I want to feel you. All of you.”

He looks at you quizzically.

“I have an IUD, there’s nothing to worry about. Unless this is your way of telling me you’ve got…something?”

His eyes burn into yours, and he growls “No condom then,” quickly shutting down your question.

Grabbing your hips and holding them in place, Taehyung runs the head of his cock through your damp folds, then slaps your center with his throbbing tip, teasing you once more before he sinks deep into you without another thought.

Watching the way your lower stomach fills out as he pushes all the way into you only adds fuel to his fire. Right now, in this single instant, he owns you. And he’s going to make sure you know it.

Your fingernails dig into his biceps while he stretches you out in the most perfect way, gasping when he quickly removes himself and slams back into you.

“Oh fuck,” he moans, “You feel so good baby, so much better than I could have ever dreamed.”

You wrap your legs around his hips, pulling him in deeper if it’s even possible. Taehyung shifts his weights and thrusts into you at a new angle, one that practically makes you see stars.

“Right there, yes. Yes!”

Biting into his shoulder when it becomes almost too much, you use your legs and push on his chest to flip him over so you’re on top, riding him at your own naughty pace.

Taehyung’s hands rest on your hips as you glide on top of him. His thrown-back head and mouthful of colorful words should be enough to prove how much he’s loving this, how much he’s loving you.

But as much as he adores watching your beautiful face twisting and turning with pleasure from below, and your perfect tits bouncing with each swift movement of your hips, he needs to be in charge right now before he loses his mind this early into the long night that awaits you both.

Whipping you around, he hovers over top of your backside and pulls your ass up against him. “Tell me you’ve never had better,” he demands while wrapping an arm around your waist as he pounds into you again from the new position. “Tell me how much you’ve needed me and my cock,” he growls into your ear with one hand moving up towards your neck.

Words are impossible at this point, your head is spinning with too many thoughts of how wonderful you feel and how hot he is in bed.

“Tell me!” he says again, gripping your neck tighter, his long fingers wrapping around your jawline.

“N-no one’s cock is better than yours,” you gasp, his pace picking with your obedience to answer just how he wanted. “No one’s,” you repeat, your eyes rolling back into your head as your insides start to coil.

He releases his hand from your neck and you forget about its whereabouts until there’s a sharp sting on your ass, that’s when you realize the sound that echoes through the room is from his hand cracking against your cheeks. “Mmm, again,” you beg, loving the after effects his spanks have on your body.

Taehyung doesn’t have to be told twice and marks you again, softly massaging the area where his red handprint remains afterward.

Your heated breaths blend as your bodies dance together on the edge, waiting to fall into perfect bliss. He flips you over one last time, wanting to face you as you come undone around him.

Taehyung leans over and nuzzles into your neck, letting his senses take over his body as he pulls you closer and closer toward white, hot pleasure.

“Oh my god!” you scream as the coil deep inside you finally snaps, sending electric sparks through your body.

Taehyung could have died and gone to heaven feeling your insides spasm and clench around him. He grits his teeth as he pumps his seed deep inside you.

His body weight falls on top of yours, energy totally spent.

You find yourself drifting off to the sound of his breathing that matches yours, and fall into a light slumber with your bodies still entwined.

The sound of sirens abruptly awakens you. Rubbing your heavy eyelids, the room flashes between red and blue as the police car lights shine through Taehyung’s second-story windows. You try to sit up but are pulled down by a heavy arm.

“Mmmm,” Taehyung mutters beside you, “Party’s crashed, it’ll quiet down again in a sec once everyone’s out.” His raspy voice tickles your neck and his hand slides down your side, resting on your hip.

A loud crashing sound followed by mumbling voices and footsteps moving outside his door wakes Taehyung up more.

“Everyone out besides residents. Time to go home!” an officer yells in the distance, and more footsteps echo as the house empties.

He sits up and listens, falling back down into bed next to you when he hears the familiar sound of the squad car door closing and driving off to find the next college party to bust.

Thinking it’s probably time to leave yourself, you reach for your shirt that’s hanging from the desk chair near his bed.

“What are you doing?”

“Isn’t it time for me to go?”

“No.” He leans on a bent arm, the other reaching for you to pull you back into his warm embrace. “Do you want to go?”

“No,” you breathe.

“Then stay,” he whispers before kissing you again.

The rest of your late night together is soft and sensual, filled with loving gazes, slow movements, and shallow panting as you lay together as one.

You find yourself getting lost in his touch, every nerve in your body blazes with pure passion this time.

Taehyung whispers your name and wraps your hands in his, pulling them up above your head.

Each roll of his hips draws silky moans from your parted lips. Heat radiates from where hands gently grip your thighs as you writhe beneath him.

You claw at his back, completely and utterly lost in the pleasure as you take the plunge into another mind-blowing orgasm.

He loves how your body reacts to his touch. He loves how you squeeze around his cock, quivering uncontrollably around him as he finds his own wonderful release.

He pushes into you once more before letting himself go. Your head swirls as he fills you with his seed, while your heart pounds to the same rhythm as his.

Taehyung’s pace slows as you tremble around him, he finds it hard to quit thrusting. He doesn’t want to forget this, doesn’t want to waste a moment where he’s not buried deep inside you.

You feel the same way, feeling full in more ways than one, and your heart flutters when you make this realization. Taehyung completes you.

Once his breath returns to its normal rate, he pulls out slowly and watches in admiration as his seed leaks out from your center, dripping between your folds.

He freezes with his eyes glued to the mess he created inside of you, wanting to burn this image into his memory forever.

Taehyung gives in to his sudden urge and uses the pad of his thumb to massage your sensitive heat. Sensually, he pushes the remaining cream back into you, wanting it to stay inside you forever.

He eventually lays back down and pulls you on top of him, the exhaustion starting to set in. His lips leave precious kisses along your cheeks, jawline, and neck before attaching to yours. He sighs contently and rests his hands on the curve of your lower back, satisfied with the way your body conforms perfectly against his.

You lay there, enjoying the blissful moment until you take in what just happened. You have no regrets, Taehyung was everything. But your head is still spinning as thoughts like ‘what does this mean’ and ‘where do we stand now’ float through your brain.

Your heart rate picks up as you start to feel a small sense of panic take over. You need to clear your head and clean yourself properly. A shower. That’ll help.

You’re sweaty, sticky, and still covered in a combination of yours and his cum, yet Taehyung refused to let you roll off of him, "Stay, you’re warm.”

“I’m gross, and I could use a shower,” you say, glancing at him, “if that’s okay…”

“Yeah, absolutely,” he nods as you move off of him. He gets up, presumably grabbing you some clothes. He digs around in his dresser before pulling out a pair of clean sweatpants and a t-shirt. “Here, and there’s the bathroom.” He says pointing to the door that’s to the left of the bed, “Make sure you lock the other door, it’s attached to Yoongi’s room. I’ll join you in a few.” There’s a sudden skip in your heart as you watch him slip his jeans back on and lean down to kiss your cheek. Biting down a creeping smile, you give him one final wave before leaving his room.

Taehyung heads downstairs to grab a glass of water. The party is long over now after the bust and he steps around empty cups scattered down the steps.

As he makes the turn into the kitchen and reaches for a glass, to say that he was surprised to be greeted by Jimin and his know-it-all face would be a straight-faced lie. Exhaling, he closes the cabinet door.

“Don’t even say it,” Taehyung warns. He has more important things to listen to than Jimin’s ‘I told you so’s’.

"Say what? I have no idea what you mean…” he smirks. “Okay I lied, I told you! I totally told you she was into you. You’re welcome by the way.”

It takes Taehyung a few seconds to comprehend where his friend is going with that.

“Oh my god! I should have known. You purposely gave me her piece of paper during the game!”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. Don’t you have someone waiting?”

“You think you’re so sneaky, don’t you?”

He grins coyly, “Maybe just a little bit.”

Feeling the sunshine’s warmth on your skin wakes you up at daybreak. You stretch and snuggle back into the cozy bed. Taehyung is still snoring softly beside you, unbothered by the sound of the birds awakening.

You admire his face as he sleeps, while memories of your steamy shower late last night drift through your mind. He took extra care of you, washing your body head to toe, massaging your scalp as he shampooed your hair, and leaving warm kissing on your skin after drying you off. Of course, that was all after he held you against the glass wall of his shower and did more sinful things to your writhing body. Shuddering as you remember the filthy things he whispered to you while doing those things.

You ignore the heat pooling between your legs from the recollections of Taehyung’s long fingers and where he put them, among other things, and internally groan instead realizing you need to make your escape now before the rest of the house wakes. Before you’re caught.

And if Sana stayed over too, you’ll never hear the end of it.

The walk of shame is not something people typically look forward to, especially when you’re leaving a frat house of all places. It’s a double-shame kind of moment.

You have one leg over him and are almost able to touch the floor to make your great escape.

Taehyung peeks between his barely parted eyelashes and smiles slyly at how unaware you are. His arms close around you quickly just as your foot skims the floor, immediately pulling you against him so your face is only a mere couple of inches away from his.

“And where, pray tell, do you think you’re going?” he says with a gruff morning voice that sends another wave of heat to your center. Your cheeks flush pink as you squirm, feeling his morning wood along your thigh.

"Oh, um. Hi-”

“Oh don’t do that.”

“Do what?” you ask as you try to wiggle out of his arms, but his iron grip doesn’t allow for that.

“Acting all shy. Nuh-uh. Not allowed. Not after last night,” he announces, tugging you in for a quick kiss while his fingers tickle your side, which causes you to wriggle against him even more.

He lets out a groan and his hips involuntarily buck up into yours. That’s when you really feel him.

It’s your turn to grin wolfishly. “Oh, sorry about that,” you taunt as you press your center down onto him again and circle slowly before sitting up on your knees, leaving him between your legs wanting more contact, needing more of you.

“Fuck, you can’t just grind on me and then stop, baby. Please keep going,” he begs as he juts his hips up looking for some kind of friction.

Taehyung stills and moans uncontrollably as you palm his hardening length through the fabric of his sweatpants, and it’s nearly enough to make him see stars when you reach inside to feel him.

His voice shudders when you pull him out from the waistband of his pants. Your pointer finger glides along his satiny skin, across the vein popped out from your touch, and up to his tip to wipe the small, white dribble away.

“Ready so soon? Thought you’d be spent after last night,” you tease, knowing very well he’ll pounce on you at any moment once given the okay. He watches in awe as you bring your finger up to your lips to lick it clean.

“Mmmm,” you hum, “maybe I should take another taste first…” You bend down to lick along his length this time.

“Oh god,” he grunts, his husky voice full of desire.

Taehyung thanks the universe for not coming undone the second your sweet mouth encompasses his length. He pushes the hair out of your face so he can watch you bob up and down, your hands covering the lower part of his shaft that won’t fit in your mouth.

You press down into him as far as your body lets you, swallowing his hugeness with pride.

His hand grips your hair to your head still as he moves inside you. Slowly at first, not wanting to hurt you, but picking up the pace nonetheless, loving how you choke around him.

He pulls out of your mouth and you gasp for air, drool dripping uncontrollably from your swollen lips.

“Open,” he rasps, holding back until he’s able to place his throbbing head on your tongue and shoots his release into your throat with a loud moan.

His body trembles as the tip of your tongue dances along the underside of his head. He gasps when your lips close around him and you work to suck the rest out of him.

His whole body shudders when you release him, the pain of being overstimulated mixing deliciously with the pleasure you make him feel. He lets out one last breath before collapsing beside you, totally drained.

You lay in bed as the sun rises up high in the sky, holding each other as you talk quietly about whatever crosses your minds, laughing every so often when one of you disagrees with the other, all while you wait to regain the energy to start your day officially.

Meaning it’s nearly noon by the time you crawl out of bed.

“C’mon, I’ll make us something to eat. You like french toast?”

The boys on the sofa ignore you as you walk behind them on your way to the kitchen with Taehyung, or so you think they do.

“Oh yeah, just like that Tae. Oooh,” Yoongi teases once you’re out of the living room, using a girly voice that is supposed to mock yours.

“Fuck, keep going, baby.” Jimin tries to imitate Taehyung but does so very poorly. Still, the overly smug look on his face taunts you childishly.

Taehyung grabs something out of the fruit bowl and whips it at them. “Go fuck yourself with that damn banana Jimin,” he hollers, muttering curses under his breath.

Awkwardly, Jimin picks up the banana that hits him in the back of the head and frowns, “Way to ruin bananas for me. Thanks.”

“As if that’s gonna stop you,” Seokjin laughs as he comes down the steps, joining the conversation. Jimin scowls. Namjoon loses it on the recliner, laughing so hard he’s not making a single sound, which in turn causes everyone to laugh with him.

“Don’t mind them, they’ve clearly lost too many brain cells,” he tells you after lifting you onto the counter next to his workstation. He turns to grab the ingredients he needs out of the fridge, and you realize with a sense of adoration, you could get used to this.

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[bunnyykoo]

YOU BELONG WITH ME

one-shot

pairing: jungkook x reader

genre: romance, drama, comedy, angst, fluff, slow burn, love pining

tags: football player! jk, photographer! jk, student leader! reader, high school au, chilhood friend, boy next door jk, bff drama, friends to lovers, yeontan cameo

synopsis: Beneath the light banter and playful teasing of childhood friends lies a deep well of unspoken feelings, simmering just out of reach. Quick glances shared during laughter hold more meaning than anyone dares to acknowledge. But everything shifts dramatically when a heartfelt letter reveals unexpected truths, shattering the carefully constructed lives they have built. Will they find their way back to each other and uncover the truth of their feelings? In the end, they must find out if they really belong with each other.

words count: 10k

notes: hello everyone! here's another one-shot from me, and let me tell you i've been thinking about this fic a lot lot lot bc i'm a sucker of this kind of romance, sorry.... inspired by TS "you belong with me” mv but with a twist! if you’re a swiftie, you’ll probably notice quite a few nods to the iconic mv—incorporated some of its most memorable scenes into the story. hope you enjoy this fun, nostalgic ride <3

p.s. dont come for my girl Sana—she might be a little extra in the beginning scenes, but trust me she’s worth it! & threw a Yeontan moment to honor him... fly high, little one 🕊

The gym buzzed with energy as students rushed around, their laughter and conversations creating a lively atmosphere for the school’s event preparations. Colorful decorations filled the room, and tables were piled high with craft supplies. As the student council leader, you moved through the crowd with a clipboard, checking off tasks and motivating your excited team.

“Hey, Miss Y/N!” called out a freshman, her face showing worry. “Can you help us with this banner? It’s too high!”

“Got it!” you answered with determination, quickly heading to where a sturdy ladder was leaning against the wall. You set it up under the spot where the banner needed to go and felt a surge of confidence as you grabbed the banner in one hand and some tape in the other.

Climbing the ladder, each step brought you closer to the colorful paper reaching up to the ceiling. But as you neared the top, your foot slipped a little on the rung. In that quick moment, everything seemed to slow down. “Oh no—” you gasped, trying hard to steady yourself. Before you knew it, you slipped down the ladder and landed with a thud on the polished gym floor. The loud noise echoed in the sudden silence that followed.

Laughter erupted around you, filling the air with amusement. At the center of it all was Sana , the cheerleading captain and your former bestfriend. Her laughter rang out, almost mocking, as she stood with her friends, arms crossed and a smug smirk on her face, tossing her hair over her shoulder.

"Be careful, Y/N," she mocked, her voice thick with sarcasm. "Being busy might make you grow old faster." Her laughter felt sharp, and it stung even more when you noticed she didn’t offer to help you up.

Heat flooded your cheeks, mixing embarrassment with frustration, but you fought to keep it under control. Taking a deep breath, you stood up and brushed off your shirt, straightening your back. “Alright, everyone, let’s get back to work! We have an event to make special!” you said, putting on a genuine smile that energized the team.

The room buzzed with renewed focus as your enthusiasm spread, pulling everyone back into the excitement of preparing for the event. Sana rolled her eyes and turned away with her group, their giggles trailing behind, but you didn’t let their laughter get you down.

“Y/N, are you okay?” a familiar voice called through the noise. You turned to see Kim Namjoon, the student council secretary and the head editor of the school paper, approaching with a concerned look on his face, a notebook tucked under one arm.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you replied with a grin. “Just stumbled a bit, nothing to worry about.”

“Impressive,” he said, chuckling. “Not many can fall like that and still walk away with confidence.”

"You think?" you grin. "Add it to the school paper column. Speaking of which, I need your help editing later." Namjoon smiles, his warmth reassuring.

While being the heaď of the student council was a big responsibility, you believed that your writing skills were really what helped you lead. Every meeting, every plan for events, and every motivational speech was shaped by your years of writing experience. It wasn’t just a hobby; it was a vital tool that helped define your leadership style.

As the day went on, you guided the team with determination, turning your fall into a funny story rather than a moment of embarrassment. With the gym transforming into a lively celebration of school spirit, you felt a swell of pride in both the team and yourself for staying true to what really mattered.

— ♡ — — ♡ — — ♡ — — ♡ — — ♡ — — ♡ — — ♡ — — ♡ — — ♡ —

The following day was the big foundation day event, and it turned out to be a tremendous success. As the sun set, you breathed a sigh of relief, feeling proud of how everything had gone. You had led your team to pull off one of the year's most important events, and now you could finally focus on your studies again, catch up on assignments, and enjoy some much-needed relaxation.

But then, things took an unexpected turn.

That evening, the school's football team had a crucial game against a rival school, which brought a huge crowd to the stadium. At first, you had no plans to go; you were determined to finish your essays and study for your upcoming exams. Just as you were about to dive into your books, you received a call from Namjoon.

“Hey Y/N, I know this is really last minute, but can you come by the office?” he asked, sounding urgent.

Curious and a bit worried, you made your way to the editorial office. Being part of the school publication was something you loved, but tonight, you hoped it wouldn’t mean too much extra work.

When you arrived, Namjoon greeted you with a stressed look. “Y/N, I really need your help. You're one of our best writers, and we’re in a tight spot.”

You raised an eyebrow. “What’s happened?”

“Yunjin, who was supposed to write about tonight’s football game, is sick and can’t make it,” Namjoon explained, urgency in his voice. “We need someone to fill in and write the article for tomorrow’s paper. I know it’s short notice, but you’re our best option. Can you take it on?”

You paused, thinking about all the homework and studying waiting for you at home. “Namjoon, I’m not sure I can do this. Writing sports articles isn’t really my thing.”

Namjoon shot you a reassuring smile. “You just have to write down what happens during the game and maybe ask a few of our players about it afterward. You’re a fantastic writer, Y/N. I know you can handle this.”

Feeling torn, you considered the school, the players who had worked so hard for this moment, and how important it was to share their story with everyone.

“Okay, Joon,” you said with newfound determination. “I’ll do it.”

Namjoon visibly relaxed and handed you a notebook and a press pass. “You’re a lifesaver, Y/N. I know you’ve already put in a lot of effort for the school. I promise I’ll make it up to you.”

You smirked and raised an eyebrow. “You better. I’m counting on you for lunch for a week.”

Namjoon laughed. “Deal. Now go make it a great article. Good luck!”

With that, you headed towards the stadium, notebook in hand, ready to take on another challenge.

Later, under the bright lights of the stadium, you were caught up in the exciting atmosphere of the game. The crowd's cheers surrounded you as you walked along the sidelines, your press pass hanging around your neck. The lights created dramatic shadows over the players as they warmed up, and you could feel their energy in the air. You stopped for a moment, heart racing, to write down your initial thoughts about the buzz surrounding the upcoming match and the rival team's arrival.

Then, you saw him.

The golden boy everyone had been talking about. He was someone you had known since you were kids—the one who always made it difficult for you to hold his gaze for long. Memories flooded back of sunny afternoons spent playing in your backyards, the shy smiles exchanged during those brief encounters, and that unmistakable flutter in your stomach whenever he was near.

He stood in the middle of the field, naturally drawing everyone's attention, with his dark hair damp from practicing, strands sticking to his forehead. His jersey fit him perfectly, showcasing his athletic build. You could see the fire in his eyes from where you stood—a mix of determination and passion that made him even more captivating.

When the game ended with an exciting win for your school, the stadium roared with cheers. A wave of pride swelled inside you—not just for the team's victory but for the chance to capture this moment through your writing.

As you lingered on the sidelines, you felt torn about whether to approach him. You had enough material for your article, but a small voice inside you urged that this opportunity was too special to miss. Just as you were about to decide, a familiar voice broke into your thoughts.

“Hey, Y/N!”

You turned sharply, your heart nearly leaping out of your chest. There he was, striding towards you with that effortless confidence you both admired and envied. His jersey clung to him, damp with sweat, his hair tousled, and that bunny-like smile brighter than the stadium lights surrounding you.

“Hey, Jungkook,” you replied, trying to sound calm even though you felt anything but. “Congratulations on your win!”

“Thanks,” he said, tilting his head with a curious look, making you feel both exposed and energized. “I didn’t expect to see you here. Did you enjoy the game?”

“Of course! For the article tomorrow,” you replied, clutching your notebook like a lifeline. “You know, school paper stuff.”

“How did you find the game?” he asked, his tone light yet genuinely curious as if he wanted your opinion.

“That’s cool. I mean, you’re cool. I mean—you’re great,” you blurted, the words tumbling before you could stop them. Your thoughts were a tangled mess, and the soft chuckle that escaped his lips didn’t make it any easier to compose yourself.

“Thanks,” Jungkook replied, tilting his head slightly as he studied you.

Trying to regain your composure, you cleared your throat. “Could I ask you a few questions about the game?”

“Sure,” he replied effortlessly.

You began asking him the standard post-game questions, scribbling down his answers. But as he spoke, your focus wavered. His voice was smooth and warm, carrying an understated excitement that made you lose track of your notes. You couldn’t help but notice how his eyes sparkled when he talked about the team’s victory, how the corner of his lips curled into a smile that made your heart skip a beat. Your attention drifted, and your writing soon became a mess of half-written sentences.

“Hey, babe,” a voice interrupted, snapping you out of your daze.

You looked up to see Sana, the head cheerleader—of course she would be here—striding over with her usual charm. Her cheer uniform fit her perfectly, highlighting her athletic build. In that moment, the butterflies in your stomach shifted to a sinking feeling.

“Oh, hey, Sana,” Jungkook greeted her, and you noticed a change in his tone.

“Great game! You were amazing out there,” Sana said before throwing her arms around him in a sudden hug. Jungkook’s body stiffened briefly, and his expression showed mild discomfort as he pulled away.

When she finally let go, Sana’s gaze shifted to you, her smile on a sharper edge. “What’s this?” she asked, nodding toward your notebook.

“It’s for the school paper,” you replied, keeping your tone neutral.

“Last time I checked, you weren’t into sports writing, Y/N.”

Her words caught you off guard, and for a moment, you debated whether it was worth responding. You were exhausted from the long day, and the last thing you wanted was to engage in her petty comments. But something about her smug tone lit a fire in you.

“And the last time I checked,” you shot back, your eyes lockig onto hers with a glare, “was a year ago. So, you don’t know much about what I’m doing now, Sana.”

The tension in the air thickened, but before you could say more, Jungkook stepped in, his voice calm yet firm. “Hey, what’s going on?”

You forced a polite smile, snapping your notebook shut. “Thanks, Jungkook,” you said abruptly, needing an escape. “I’ll, uh, I’ll go now.”

“Thanks, Y/N,” he replied softly, his eyes lingering on you. “See you around.”

As you walked away, you couldn’t help but feel a sting. Jungkook and Sana had been linked ever since she became the cheerleading captain, though rumors swirled that they weren’t officially a couple. You tried to convince yourself it didn’t matter, but deep down, it did—just a little. This wasn’t just anyone; it was your former best friend and the boy who had unknowingly captured your heart for years.

Later that night, you sat at your desk, struggling to finish an article you had started. The soft light from Jungkook’s room peeked through your curtains, reminding you of how near yet far he felt. His smile and the sound of his voice echoed in your mind. As you lay there, sleep refused to come, and you found yourself thinking about what could have happened if you had ever had the courage to tell him your true feelings.

— ♡ — — ♡ — — ♡ — — ♡ — — ♡ — — ♡ — — ♡ — — ♡ — — ♡ —

After weeks passed and final exams wrapped up, you threw yourself into your studies. It wasn’t just about making your parents proud or keeping your position as a student leader; it was about getting a scholarship to the university of your dreams, something you had worked toward for years. After weeks of sleepless nights and exhausting tests, your final stretch as a high school senior came to a close.

That afternoon, completely worn out, you headed straight to your room and collapsed onto your bed. When you woke up three hours later, it was dark outside, and your mom called you for dinner. Rubbing your eyes, you stretched and turned toward your window. That’s when you saw that your curtain was slightly open, revealing Jungkook’s room across the way.

He was there, his face faintly lit by a desk lamp, talking animatedly on the phone. Even from a distance, you could see the tension in his posture—his brows were knitted together, his jaw tense, and his hand was tugging at his hair in frustration. Concern rose in your chest. Without thinking, you grabbed a notepad and marker from your desk and quickly jotted down a message.

"Are you okay?"

You held it up to the window, feeling anxious as you waited. It took him a moment to notice you, but when he did, his expression softened a bit. He sighed and wrote back:

"Tired of drama."

Unsure of how to reply, you eventually wrote:

"Sorry."

He looked at your note, and a faint, tired smile flickered across his face. He shook his head gently, as if to say it wasn’t your fault. The simple exchange left a strange heaviness in your chest despite the silence between you. You wondered what troubles he was facing, and for a brief moment, you wished you could reach out and help him.

Jungkook then waved at you, a small gesture that felt like a goodnight. You waved back, signaling for him to get some rest. He smiled again, this time it felt more genuine, before closing his curtain. The room immediately fell silent, but thoughts of him lingered long after he disappeared from view.

— ♡ — — ♡ — — ♡ — — ♡ — — ♡ — — ♡ — — ♡ — — ♡ — — ♡ —

On a laid-back Sunday afternoon, you decided to take a break from your busy life by diving into a book that had caught your interest. You found a quiet spot on a bench in the park, where the calm surroundings helped soothe your busy mind.

Out of the blue, you were startled by a loud bark. Looking up, you saw a tiny, fluffy Pomeranian running towards you. Its shiny black and brown fur sparkled in the sunlight, and its bright eyes shone with playful energy. A smile spread across your face as the little dog, looking like a cuddly stuffed animal, stopped barking and approached you cautiously.

“Hey there, little buddy,” you said softly, reaching out your hand. The dog sniffed your fingers for a moment and then nuzzled against you, clearly enjoying the attention. Feeling a rush of affection for dogs, you scratched behind its ears and laughed as it playfully licked your hand.

Just then, a voice called out from a distance, “Yeontan!” You looked up to see Jungkook jogging toward you, looking a bit rushed.

“There you are,” he said, picking up the dog and holding it in his arms. “I’m sorry if he bothered you.”

“Oh, not at all,” you replied with a smile, still petting Yeontan. “He’s so cute!”

Jungkook chuckled and scratched Yeontan behind the ear. “He’s not actually mine, though. Taehyung asked me to look after him for a while. He can be quite a handful sometimes.”

“I don’t mind at all,” you said, charmed by the little fluffball. “I love dogs. He’s just too adorable!”

“Right?” Jungkook grinned. “He can be a bit of a troublemaker, though. So, what are you doing here? Just reading?”

“Something like that,” you shrugged. “I needed a break to clear my mind. It helps.”

“That's good to hear. You deserve some time off,” Jungkook replied, his tone growing softer. “So, what’s your plan after graduation? Are you staying here for college?”

You paused, closing your book as you considered your response. “Honestly, I’m not sure. My mom and I haven’t talked much about it, but I’m applying to a few schools that are far away. What about you?”

Jungkook sighed, absentmindedly petting Yeontan. “My dad wants me to stay here and take business classes while focusing on football. He has this whole plan for me to take over his business.”

“Is that what you want?” you asked, tilting your head to study his expression.

“I’m not sure,” he admitted, frustration creeping into his voice. “I don’t want to let him down, but…”

“But what?” you prompted.

“I really loved photography and film,” he said quietly. “I told my dad I wanted to study film, but he wasn’t too excited. He thinks football is my best chance at making it to the national team, and that everything else is just a hobby.”

You frowned, feeling a twinge of sympathy for him. “That sounds rough, Jungkook. It’s great that your dad believes in you, but it’s your life. You should do what makes you happy.”

“That’s what your dad always said, right?” Jungkook remarked, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “I miss Uncle Seojun. He always encouraged me and was so excited about my photography projects.”

“He really was,” you replied, smiling at the memory of your father. “I remember how thrilled you were when you got that camera for your birthday. You couldn’t stop talking about it!”

He laughed softly, nostalgic. “Yeah, those were good times.”

Jungkook’s gaze softened as he looked at you, momentarily distracted by a stray hair that had fallen over your face. Without thinking, he reached out and gently tucked it behind your ear. The unexpected touch made your heart skip a beat.

“There,” he said softly, almost whispering as if the moment needed a certain quiet. “Now I can see you properly.”

Heat rushed to your cheeks, and you scrambled to find words, but your mind went blank. His hand lingered for a brief moment before he pulled away, and the faint smile he gave you sent your heart racing.

In that moment, everything else faded away—the sounds of the park and even Yeontan’s soft breathing seemed to disappear. You wondered if he could hear how loudly your heart was beating.

You both sat there quietly for a while, with Yeontan curled up between you. It felt like a snapshot of the past, a brief reminder of simpler times before life got more complicated.

But before long, the moment was disrupted. A red car pulled up nearby, and you recognized the girl stepping out—Sana. Of course, it had to be her. With her stylish cap and polished look, she approached like she owned the place.

“Hey, Jungkook! What’s taking you so long to grab Yeontan?” she called out, shattering the peaceful moment you had shared with Jungkook.

Jungkook stood up, brushing off his jeans as if to shake off the experience you’d just had. “I’ve got to go now,” he said, a hint of regret in his voice. “It was really nice talking to you again.”

“Yeah, sure,” you replied, trying to keep your tone casual despite the whirlwind of feelings inside you. “Time to go now, buddy,” you said softly to Yeontan, giving the little dog one last affectionate pat.

Jungkook sank back onto the bench, his smile brightening the moment as he gently took Yeontan’s paw and waved it toward you. “Bye, Yeontan,” you said, unable to suppress the flicker of a smile that danced on your lips despite the weight in your chest.

When Jungkook got on the passenger seat, Sana suddenly whispered to Jungkook, making them like they are kissing on your view, which made Jungkook laugh. You quickly dropped your gaze back to your book, pretending not to notice, acting as if it didn’t bother you. But it did. It always did.

The car pulled away, taking them with it, leaving you alone once again with only your book and the lingering ache in your chest.

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The office was filled with a low hum of activity, with the sounds of papers being shuffled and keyboards tapping away. You were sitting at your usual desk, surrounded by notes, layout plans, and playlists for the upcoming graduation celebration. It was your last year of school, and as the leader of the organizing committee, you were determined to make the event truly special.

“Hey, Y/N, have you had lunch yet?” a familiar voice cut through your concentration.

Looking up, you saw Namjoon standing there with a warm smile, holding a neatly packed lunchbox.

“I’ll eat later. I was thinking of heading to the cafeteria,” you replied, forcing a tired smile.

“No need for that,” he said, placing the box down in front of you. “I brought you lunch. You’ve been working yourself to the bone lately.”

“Thanks, that really means a lot,” you said, genuinely appreciative.

“Not a problem. You deserve it,” he replied, pulling up a chair to sit next to you. “By the way, have you heard anything about your application to your dream school?”

You leaned back in your chair with a sigh. “No news yet. I’m just waiting and hoping for that scholarship. It all depends on this.”

Namjoon nodded, his expression confident. “You’ll get it. I believe in you.”

“I hope you’re right,” you said quietly, feeling the pressure weighing on you.

“It’s you, Y/N. You’ve been juggling so much—school, committee duties, everything. If anyone can handle it, it’s you,” he said earnestly, and his encouragement brought a small smile to your face.

You talked about school and Namjoon’s plans for college, enjoying the easy flow of conversation. For a moment, the stress you were feeling seemed to lift.

“So… about prom?” he asked casually, tilting his head. “Are you going? Has anyone asked you to go with them?”

You hesitated, playing with your pen. “Not yet. I’m not sure I’ll even go.”

“Why not?” he inquired.

“I’ve been so busy, and I really need to focus on studying for the scholarship. That’s what’s most important for me right now,” you explained, looking away.

Namjoon frowned a little but nodded in understanding. “I get it. But you know… you’ve worked really hard. Maybe you deserve one night to just have fun. Prom is an important event, especially for someone like you who’s given so much to this school. Just think about it, okay?”

You smiled softly, touched by his concern. “Thanks, Namjoon. I’ll think about it.”

He stood up and gave you a reassuring pat on the shoulder. “Good. Now eat your lunch. You need the energy for everything you’re handling.”

As he walked away, you looked down at the lunchbox and smiled to yourself. Namjoon always seemed to know exactly what you needed, even when you didn’t realize it yourself.

— ♡ — — ♡ — — ♡ — — ♡ — — ♡ — — ♡ — — ♡ — — ♡ — — ♡ —

Weeks passed, and the gentle light of your desk lamp lit up the messy spread of notes and open textbooks in front of you. You had been studying for hours, going over every possible topic for the entrance exam—a big test that could determine whether you got into your dream school. The clock struck midnight, but you were so focused that you barely noticed the time.

Even so, thoughts of prom kept sneaking into your mind. It wasn’t just that your friend Namjoon had encouraged you to go; it was the fact that prom, the highlight of your senior year, was happening on the same day as your exam. The test was in the morning, and there would be time to get ready afterward, but you wondered if it was worth the rush. Should you focus on your future or let yourself enjoy one night of celebration after all your hard work?

Your thoughts were interrupted when you heard a door open from the other side. You saw Jungkook walked into his room, his hair slightly damp, probably from football practice, and his gym bag hanging over his shoulder. He looked a mix of tired and effortlessly cool.

You quickly turned your attention back to your notes, trying not to seem obvious, but you could sense that he was watching you. When you glanced up again, you noticed him grab a notepad and a marker from his desk. He wrote something down and held it up to his window.

“Are you going to prom tomorrow?”

You froze for a moment, caught off guard by his direct question. Slowly, you grabbed your notepad and wrote back:

“No, studying.”

He read your response and his expression changed—was that disappointment? He sighed and quickly wrote another note, a small smile appearing on his face as he held it up:

“Wish you were"

Your heart skipped a beat. The simplicity of his words affected you more than you anticipated. You smiled back, feeling a mix of flattery and frustration. Prom had only been a distant thought until now, but Jungkook’s quiet hope made you reconsider.

You stood up and waved goodbye, signaling that you were heading downstairs for dinner. Your mom greeted you warmly and asked how your studying was going. You nodded, trying to focus on the meal in front of you, but your mind was elsewhere. Between the entrance exam, the upcoming prom, and Jungkook’s note, you felt like you were at a crossroads, unsure of which path to take.

That morning, your mom took you to the university for an important exam. The car ride felt both long and too short at the same time, with the scenery rushing by as your nerves tightened. This was the moment you had been working towards after many sleepless nights and self-imposed pressure. There was no turning back now.

“I know you’re feeling anxious, sweetheart,” your mom said gently. “But no matter what happens, I’m proud of you. And your dad? He would be so happy.”

You nodded, trying to push down the lump in your throat. Her comforting words eased your anxiety, even as your mind raced with worries about what could go wrong.

When you entered the exam hall, the quietness was almost overwhelming. Other students, just as nervous as you, bent over their papers. Once the exam started, it was just you, the questions in front of you, and your pen. You poured all your effort into each answer, determined to do your best.

As you walked out of the hall afterwards, doubt began to creep in. Did I do enough? you wondered. You took a deep breath and reminded yourself, “I’ve done my best. Now it’s in the hands of fate.”

Back home after lunch, you tried to distract yourself from the exam, but the thoughts kept returning. It wasn’t until exactly 1:00 PM, hours later, that your phone buzzed with a notification. An email awaited you.

Your heart raced as you opened it, and the words “Admission Results” jumped out at you. As you read through the letter, one word stood out: Congratulations.

“Oh my God,” you gasped, and then exclaimed more loudly, “I passed!”

Your mom rushed in, startled by your shout. When she saw the email on your screen, her face lit up with joy. You both started jumping around the room, laughing and crying together.

“I’m so proud of you,” she said, wrapping you in a warm hug. “Your dad would be so proud too. I just know it.”

Later, in your room, you began to imagine the life ahead of you at your dream school. New friends, exciting opportunities, and a fresh place to learn and grow. The possibilities felt endless, and for the first time in a long while, you felt truly excited about the future.

Your daydream was interrupted by a loud knock on your door. Startled, you turned to see someone you didn’t expect: Sana.

— ♡ — — ♡ — — ♡ — — ♡ — — ♡ — — ♡ — — ♡ — — ♡ — — ♡ —

She stood in the doorway, exuding her usual confidence, but her face was hard to read. "We need to talk," she said, crossing her arms.

The happiness from your recent achievement quickly faded as you wondered what she wanted. You stood frozen at your door, staring at Sana, completely shocked by her unexpected visit. It felt like ages since she’d last been in your house, let alone your room.

“What are you doing here?” you finally managed to ask, still trying to process her sudden appearance.

Instead of giving a straight answer, she crossed her arms and shot you an intense glare, her voice trembling with emotion. “How could you just leave me in this town? I thought we were going to college together!”

Her outburst hit you hard. “People change, Sana. Plans change. Everything changes,” you replied, trying to keep your voice steady even as your heart raced.

“You didn’t even tell me?” she said, her eyes shimmering with tears that threatened to overflow.

You let out a heavy breath, feeling the weight of this tense moment. “How was I supposed to? We weren't really on good terms.”

Without another word, she walked past you, frustration clear in her body language, and sat down on the edge of your bed. “So what? Just because we weren’t talking doesn’t mean you could just vanish on me. Even if we were both acting foolish, you could’ve at least figured out a way to let me know.”

You followed her, feeling unsure whether to comfort her or give her some space. “How did you even find out I was going to another school? I’m not even sure I could pass the entrance exam.”

Sana wiped her eyes, and her frustration melted into vulnerability. “I overheard your mom mentioning it…and Jungkook told me too. And you think so little of yourself. Do you hate me that much?”

Her words cut deep. “I don’t hate you, Sana,” you replied softly, feeling your heart ache with her pain. “I’m really sorry.”

“I’m sorry too, Y/N,” she responded, her voice shaking. “I know I haven't treated you well this year. I—” Her voice broke as she buried her face in her hands, regret washing over her like a tidal wave.

You paused for a moment but then sat down next to her. “I was going to send you a letter,” you admitted. “To explain everything before graduation.”

“A letter?” she repeated, her eyes widening with curiosity. “Let me see it!”

With a heavy heart, you opened your cabinet and took out a box filled with letters you had written to people who had meant a lot to you. With shaky hands, you handed one to her.

As she started to read the letter, you noticed her expression change. Tears filled her eyes as she processed the words you had written from deep within your heart. “Y/N, I had no idea you felt this way. I’m so sorry for making you feel alone. If I could go back in time... I would give up cheerleading if it meant keeping you in my life.”

“Please don’t say that,” you replied quickly, your voice filled with urgency. “Cheerleading was your dream. I regret not being more supportive. I should have been there for you.”

Sana shook her head, a realization dawning upon her. “And I should have been there for you, too. I had no idea what you were going through with your dad’s illness. I thought you were pushing me away, but really, I just wasn’t paying attention.”

The two of you sat together, unpacking the hurt and misunderstandings that had built up over the past year. You shared how your father's health struggles had taken over your life, creating a distance you didn’t know how to overcome. Sana opened up about feeling lost when you stopped responding to her messages, believing you no longer cared about her.

“Remember that time we were supposed to hang out? I saw you hugging Jungkook, and I… I thought maybe you didn’t need me anymore,” you reminded her, the memory still vivid.

Sana’s eyes widened in surprise. “Jungkook? Oh my God, Y/N, he was just comforting me! I was upset about my parents fighting, that’s all!”

As the ridiculousness of it all hit both of you, laughter erupted, slowly easing the tension that had lingered for so long.

“And then,” you added, “I got a call from the hospital. My dad was in surgery, and I couldn’t stay.”

Sana’s expression softened, guilt showing on her face. “I thought you ditched me. I waited for you until I couldn’t anymore.”

When you finally returned home after your dad’s funeral, you had wanted to explain everything, but seeing Sana laughing with her new cheerleading friends had hurt you deeply. “I thought you’d moved on,” you admitted, trying to hold back the pain you still felt.

Sana groaned and covered her face, genuine sorrow washing over her. “We were so foolish.”

You nodded, a smile starting to emerge despite everything. “Yeah, we were.”

As the laughter faded, the weight of the past year began to lift, replaced by a sense of ease that had been absent for so long. Hours passed as you both reminisced, catching up on everything you had missed in each other’s lives. When you looked at the clock, you were surprised to see it was already 4 PM.

“Wow,” Sana said, leaning back with a playful sigh. “We just spent hours untangling a whole year’s worth of misunderstandings. Classic us.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle, feeling lighter than you had in a long time. “Classic us! So, what’s next? How are things going with you and Jungkook?”

Sana's face shifted to one of mock shock. “Me and Jungkook? Oh, no! I think you mean me and his best friend.”

Your brow furrowed in confusion. “Wait, Kim Taehyung? Jungkook’s best friend?”

A sheepish smile appeared on Sana’s face. “Yep! Don't act so surprised. I was always around Jungkook because Taehyung and I... well, there’s definitely more happening there than with Jungkook.”

Your mouth dropped open. “Really? This whole time I thought—”

“Thought what? That Jungkook and I were secretly in love?” Sana laughed dramatically. “Ew, no! He’s like a brother to me. Gross.”

You felt a wave of relief, though a hint of irritation bubbled up too. “Well, how was I supposed to know? You two always hung out, and there was that time you called him ‘babe’ during the football game!”

Sana grinned mischievously. “Oh, that? Totally just messing with you. I wanted to see if you get jealous.”

“Jealous?” you repeated, feeling heat rise to your cheeks. “Why would I be jealous?”

“Oh, come on, Y/N. It’s obvious. I have known you since we were little, and you have liked Jungkook since middle school, right?”

You groaned, hiding your face in your hands. “You’re the worst.”

“And you’re just in denial about it. It’s painful to watch,” she teased.

Before you could respond, Sana leaned in closer and said, “But honestly, your face every time I was with him? Not subtle at all.”

“Well, excuse me for being human,” you muttered, glaring at her.

Sana just smirked. “Anyway, there’s nothing between me and Jungkook, but there’s definitely something between him and you.”

Your heart raced at her words, but you quickly shook your head. “You’re imagining things.”

Sana rolled her eyes. “Right. I’m the one imagining this. Not the girl who’s been crushing on Jungkook for years.”

“Can we talk about something else, please?” you begged.

“Nope! You can’t get out of this. People always thought we were a couple, but it’s silly because there’s nothing there. The only person I’m into is Taehyung.”

You blinked, trying to grasp all the new information. “So... you and Taehyung?”

“Yep!” she said, grinning. “Don’t worry; I’ll make sure Jungkook knows you’re interested. Not that he doesn’t already.”

“Sana!” you shouted, throwing a pillow at her.

You both burst into laughter, the earlier tension completely gone. For the first time in ages, things felt normal between you and Sana, just like they used to be.

Suddenly, Sana spoke up enthusiastically, crossing her arms like it was settled. “You need to go to this prom!”

You sighed, leaning back against your bed. “No way. I’m not ready for this. I don’t have a dress, I didn’t make plans, and prom starts at 6 PM. Do you even know what time it is?”

Sana rolled her eyes dramatically. “Seriously, Y/N? You know they never start right at 6.”

That made you laugh. “Okay, true.”

“But I still don’t have a dress!” you protested, looking down at your jeans and oversized hoodie. “Even if I did, it's too late to get ready now.”

Sana grinned mischievously and dashed out the door. “Don’t worry! We’re the same size, remember? I’ll grab a dress from my place and be back in no time. Bye!”

Before you could argue, she was gone, leaving you surprised and somewhat amused.

As you leaned back, you reflected on how just hours ago, you wouldn’t have imagined reconnecting with Sana and laughing like old times. Life can be full of surprises.

Moments later, Sana burst through your door, a garment bag draped over her arm, grinning widely. You perked up, but then noticed what she held—a white sparkly long gown.

“Wait a second,” you said, narrowing your eyes. “Where’s the other dress? I thought we were going together!”

Sana winced, her smile faltering. “About that... I actually have plans tonight. With Taehyung.”

Your jaw dropped. “You’re skipping prom for a guy?”

She raised her hands in mock defense, laughing. “I’m sorry! I can’t help it; I’m just a flawed human!”

You couldn’t help but laugh along, shaking your head at her antics. “Fine, but you owe me—big time.”

Sana smirked and shoved the garment bag into your arms. “Deal! Now go take a shower. We have a lot to do to make you look stunning.”

Rolling your eyes, you grabbed the bag and headed for the bathroom. “You better not do anything weird while I’m gone.”

“Me? Weird? Never!” Sana feigned innocence.

But as soon as you closed the bathroom door, you could hear her giggling outside.

Curiosity got the better of her. Her eyes landed on a small stack of letters sitting on your desk, and one in particular caught her attention. It had Jungkook’s name written on the envelope.

She hesitated for a moment, then grabbed it. “Curiosity kills the cat, but satisfaction brings it back,” she muttered as she opened the letter.

As she read, a sly smile spread across her face. “Oh, this is perfect.” With a sparkle of mischief in her eyes, she tucked the letter into her bag, already planning how to make her night—and yours—unforgettable.

When you returned from your shower, wrapped in a towel and ready to get started, Sana was all business. “Alright, sit down. Let’s work some magic.”

The next hour was a flurry of hairspray, brushes, and accessories as Sana worked diligently, turning you into someone who looked ready for a fairytale. By the time she was done, you hardly recognized yourself in the mirror.

“Oh my god,” Sana exclaimed, stepping back to admire her work. “You’re gorgeous! I’m so proud to call you my friend.”

You rolled your eyes, feeling your cheeks warm. “Stop it, Sana. You’re just flattering me.”

“I’m serious, Y/N. You look amazing.”

Before you could respond, there was a knock at the door. Your mom peeked in, her eyes going wide in surprise.

“Wow,” she said, placing a hand on her chest. “You’re... stunning, my darling.”

“Thanks, Mom,” you replied, trying to hide your blush.

“I thought you weren’t going,” she added, tilting her head in confusion.

“Change of plans,” you said casually.

Your mom turned to Sana. “What about you? Aren’t you going out?”

Sana grinned, ready with her excuse. “I have something important to do tonight.”

You smirked, catching onto the little fib. “Yeah, important,” you teased quietly, getting a playful shove from Sana in return.

As your mom stepped out, Sana handed you your sandals, the final touch, and gave you an encouraging smile. “Alright, Cinderella, it’s time for the ball. It’s almost 7 PM!”

— ♡ — — ♡ — — ♡ — — ♡ — — ♡ — — ♡ — — ♡ — — ♡ — — ♡ —

Jungkook tapped his fingers on the steering wheel as he waited at a red light. The lights from the cars in front of him blurred as his thoughts drifted back to a note he had received from you the night before. It simply said, “No, studying.” It was straightforward and so very “you.” You were focused on your future and not swayed by a high school dance. That dedication was just one of the many things he admired about you—your ability to stay on track and ignore distractions.

But part of him selfishly wished you would go to the dance. It wasn’t about the glitz and glamour; he just wanted to see you there, enjoying yourself for once. You had worked so hard all year, and no one deserved a moment of fun more than you. And if he was honest, he simply wanted to see you smile.

He laughed quietly to himself, shaking his head at his own thoughts. What was he imagining? He wasn’t your boyfriend or anything like that. He was just your neighbor, your friend—the guy who chatted with you casually and often caught glimpses of you through your room window when your light turned on.

A car behind him honked, snapping him back to reality. The light had changed to green. He pressed the gas and moved forward, only to hear his phone buzz in the passenger seat. He took a quick look at the screen during the next stop—texts from Sana.

Sana: Sorry, I’m gonna ditch you tonight. Sorry not sorry.

Sana: But I’ve got something to give you right now. Please meet me. Thanks.

Jungkook sighed, feeling a mix of frustration and disappointment. He wasn’t surprised that Sana had backed out. It was typical of her behavior, probably running off for some adventure with Taehyung. He didn’t really care; he didn’t have high hopes for the night anyway. The excitement of prom had faded the moment you decided not to attend.

Still, the weight of his disappointment settled deeper in his heart. For a brief moment, he had imagined that tonight could be special—his chance to finally tell you how he felt. It was his last year of high school, and if he didn’t speak up now, he might never get the chance.

With a sigh, Jungkook turned his car toward Sana’s house. His thoughts raced, torn between the reality of you not being there and the small, foolish hope that maybe—just maybe—you might change your mind and show up. Although, he thought bitterly, what were the chances you felt the same way about him?

Yet, there was a little voice in the back of his mind encouraging him to take the risk. To go for it, even if it meant putting everything on the line. Because if not tonight, then when would he ever find the courage to say anything?

It all started when you moved into the neighborhood. Jungkook had heard some talk at school about a new student joining their class, but honestly, he didn’t care much about gossip. That changed one afternoon when Jungkook found himself in a bad mood after spilling his favorite treat—banana milk. As he grumbled about how his day couldn’t get any worse, you appeared, handing him a fresh carton with a simple, “Here.”

At that moment, Jungkook thought you might be an angel. He didn’t know you well yet, but your quiet kindness left a mark on him. It wasn’t something big or flashy, just a small gesture of support that meant a lot. From then on, you became friends—not best friends like you were with Sana, but close enough for him to pick up on little things about you, like how much you loved reading, how your face lit up when you talked about your favorite subjects, and how determined you were in everything you did.

You were one of the few who encouraged him to take photos, aside from his dad. When Jungkook got a camera for his birthday, he was excited that you agreed to model for him. Over time, you became one of his favorite people to photograph. There was something special about the way you carried yourself—elegant yet strong—that made every picture meaningful.

As time went on, Jungkook noticed a change in you. He would see you walking home from school, looking down and seeming to shut the world out. It wasn’t until later that he found out the truth: your father had passed away after being ill for a long time. Jungkook wanted to reach out, but you had withdrawn from school and social life. He understood that you needed time alone to grieve. Still, he couldn’t shake the concern he felt. Things had changed between you and Sana too; you weren’t talking as much anymore, and Jungkook wondered what had shifted.

He thought about asking Sana about it, but hesitated. It didn’t feel right since she had her own things going on. For a while, Jungkook even thought Sana was interested in him because she was always around, laughing and chatting. But soon he realized her attention was focused on his best friend, Taehyung. Ever since he introduced them, Sana had been trying to get Taehyung’s attention, and Jungkook ended up as her unintentional sidekick.

That sometimes frustrated him, especially when Sana interrupted moments he wanted to share with you. Like that one day you were sitting together on a bench while he was walking Taehyung’s dog, Yeontan, who had a lot of energy. Suddenly, Yeontan broke free and darted away, and Jungkook had rushed to catch him, unexpectedly running right into you. At that moment, it felt like fate.

When senior year began, you returned as a new person—stronger and more confident, with a spark in your eyes that caught everyone’s attention. As the newly elected student leader, you tackled every challenge with determination. Jungkook watched in awe. How could someone who had faced so much come back even brighter? When he found out you were watching the school’s big football game, he played like it was the most important game of his life. Every move was made with the thought of impressing you. When the team won, he secretly hoped that you had noticed him.

But it wasn’t just your accomplishments that captivated him. It was the way you hummed while studying, the light in your eyes when discussing your future, and your unwavering determination. The more time Jungkook spent with you, the deeper his feelings grew.

It wasn’t just a crush anymore. It felt complicated and overwhelming, and he couldn’t ignore it. But along with those feelings came frustration. Jungkook often felt unworthy of you. You were amazing in every way, while he thought of himself as just Jungkook. Even when he tried to pull away from his feelings, they would rush back, like waves that wouldn’t stop.

Jungkook arrived at Sana’s house, where she greeted him with a big smile. She held up an envelope, waving it around excitedly.

“Here,” she said, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “Make sure you read this at the prom. Or else.”

Jungkook raised an eyebrow. “Or else what?”

Sana leaned in, lowering her voice for dramatic effect. “Or else I’ll share that karaoke video of you singing ‘Baby Shark’ at the top of your lungs last summer.”

Jungkook groaned, grabbing the envelope from her. “Seriously? That was for my little cousin’s party!”

“Yeah, yeah, keep telling yourself that,” she teased, barely holding back her laughter. “Now go! And don’t mess this up.”

— ♡ — — ♡ — — ♡ — — ♡ — — ♡ — — ♡ — — ♡ — — ♡ — — ♡ —

After your mom insisted on giving you a ride and your friend Sana decided not to come with you for some unclear reason, you figured a late arrival would be alright. As you walked into the venue, the lively music greeted you, and then you spotted Namjoon, who had a huge, welcoming smile on his face.

“Oh, wow, you actually made it!” he exclaimed, practically lifting you off the ground with his excitement.

“Someone talked me into it,” you replied, thinking about Sana’s enthusiastic pep talk earlier.

“Whoever that is, I owe them one! By the way, how did your entrance exam go?”

You smiled. “I passed!”

His face lit up even more. “Oh my god, I knew you would! I’m so proud of you!”

“Should we celebrate?”

And celebrate you did. The night turned into a blur of music, dancing, and laughter. Namjoon had a knack for making everything feel light and fun. For the first time in what felt like ages, you felt like yourself again—free from stress and the heaviness of the past year.

But even while dancing and singing along to the songs, you couldn’t help but wonder about Jungkook. You remembered Sana saying he was supposed to be here—and even more confusing, that he was going to be her partner. The thought of him with her nagged at you, even though she had assured you there was nothing romantic going on.

Why are you even thinking about him? you thought, scolding yourself. Just because Sana said everything is fine doesn’t mean he feels the same way about you. Your thoughts were interrupted when Namjoon handed you a drink and pulled you back into the moment. “Come on, no sad thoughts tonight!” he said, grinning widely.

You laughed and accepted the drink, allowing yourself to be swept up in the music and the joy of the evening. Whatever happened later, you decided, could wait until tomorrow. For now, you were going to dance the night away.

Meanwhile, Jungkook was sitting away from the dance floor with his football teammates, lazily holding a drink. He wasn’t really paying attention to what they were saying until Jimin leaned over with a cheeky grin.

“Hey, I just saw Y/N on the dance floor,” Jimin said casually, almost like he didn’t just drop a huge surprise.

Jungkook sat up straight, surprised. “You’re not kidding, right?”

“Nope,” Jimin replied, dragging out the word for more suspense. “But... she’s with Namjoon.”

The smile that had started to form on Jungkook’s face vanished. Of course you were with Namjoon. He felt a familiar wave of jealousy wash over him, even though he knew it was silly—there was nothing romantic between you two, right? Still, he couldn’t help his mind from racing.

As he glanced down at the dance floor, he spotted you right away. You were laughing, your face bright in the colorful lights as you danced with carefree joy. Despite the sting in his chest, Jungkook couldn’t help but smile. You looked so happy, and that mattered to him.

“She looks amazing,” he thought, feeling a bit of a ache in his heart.

Jimin leaned closer, grinning playfully. “You’re so down bad, man. When are you going to tell her? Keeping it inside for years is painful to watch.”

“Shut up, Jimin,” Jungkook muttered, grabbing the drink from Jimin’s hand and standing up quickly.

As he walked away, something slipped from his pocket and fell to the floor.

“Uh, Jungkook? You dropped something,” Jimin called out, picking it up.

Jungkook turned around, snatching the envelope before Jimin could look closer and shoved it back into his pocket.

He made his way to the restroom, his thoughts racing. After closing the door behind him, he leaned against the sink and pulled out the envelope again.

He had completely forgotten about it in the excitement of the night. Slowly, he opened it, curiosity bubbling inside him. As he read the first few lines, his breath caught in his throat.

You excused yourself, telling Namjoon that you needed a break and wanted to find the comfort room. He nodded and kindly pointed you in the right direction. As you walked away from the crowd, the noise of the venue faded slightly, and you welcomed the moment of solitude.

But before you could push the door open, you stopped in your tracks. Jungkook was standing there, looking like he’d just seen a ghost. His eyes widened as they met yours. You gave him a small wave, unsure of what to make of his expression, but before you could say anything, he grabbed your wrist and gently pulled you outside.

“Jungkook, wait! What’s going on?” you protested, but he didn’t stop until you were far away from the venue, out of sight and earshot of the crowd.

Finally, you tugged your arm free, your breath slightly uneven. “What’s going on? Why did you bring me here?”

He looked at you, his jaw tightening like he was wrestling with something he couldn’t hold back any longer. Then he blurted out, “Do you still like me?”

You froze. “Pardon?”

“Do you have feelings for me?” His voice was more urgent this time, his eyes searching yours.

“What—Jungkook, I’m confused! What’s happening?” you stammered, until your gaze dropped to his hand. He was holding something—a letter. A very familiar letter. Your heart sank. No, this can’t be happening, you thought.

“Where did you get that?” Your voice was barely above a whisper. It was the letter. The one you wrote when you thought you had no chance with him. The one you hesitated to give because it felt too vulnerable, too raw. And now, he was holding it.

Dear Jungkook,

There’s so much I’ve been meaning to say, but I never quite found the right moment—or maybe I just didn’t have the courage. You’ve been such an important part of my life, and honestly, I can’t imagine it without you.

We’ve known each other for so long, and I still remember the little things—like the time when we were kids, and you cried because your favorite drink spilled. I gave you mine, and you smiled like the world was okay again. It might sound silly, but that moment has stayed with me.

As time has passed, I’ve come to realize that my feelings for you have deepened in ways I didn’t expect. Maybe it was during those awkward moments in middle school when you were there to help me out without making things weird. Your kindness in those moments really meant the world to me and made me like you even more.

I want to assure you that I’m not writing this to complicate our friendship because that means the world to me. I just felt it was time to be honest, especially with all the buzz around you and Sana. Regardless of what’s happening between you two, your happiness is what truly matters to me. She’s great, and you deserve nothing but the best.

Most of all, I want to thank you. Thank you for being my friend, for capturing memories through your photos when I didn’t know how to see myself, and for being there when I needed someone, even if I didn’t realize it at the time. Thank you for being a part of my dad’s life as well—I know he would be proud of the person you’re becoming.

I’m sorry for the times when I pushed you away or made it hard to talk. I know you wanted to connect, and I regret not opening up sooner. You know I’ve had my struggles, but I hope we can still be just like before.

No matter what happens, I hope you always choose what makes you happiest. You deserve that, Jungkook. I hope I’ll get to see you thriving, chasing your dreams, and smiling that smile that makes everything feel okay.

See you around.

Love,

Y/N

You should’ve known better. She always had a knack for getting involved in things she shouldn't, and this time was no different.

“Answer me,” Jungkook urged again, his voice softer now but still serious.

You took a deep breath, your heart racing. “Yes, Jungkook. I did have feelings for you,” you confessed, your voice shaking. “And... I still do.”

Before you could say anything else, Jungkook stepped closer, pressing his lips to yours in a kiss that was gentle yet charged, filled with all the feelings he hadn’t found the words for. It felt like time stopped, the noise of everyone else fading away until there was just the two of you.

When he pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, and he smiled—a real, open smile that lit up his face. “I like you too, Y/N. I’ve liked you for so long. I just… didn’t know how to tell you.”

Your breath caught, not in surprise this time, but in the overwhelming realization that maybe, just maybe, this was the moment you had been waiting for.

He kissed you again, and it felt deeper and more passionate, your mouths moving together as if they’d always belonged that way. Jungkook pulled back slightly, both of you catching your breath while still holding onto each other, his eyes shining with joy. "I can't believe this is actually happening," he murmured.

You raised an eyebrow, still reeling from everything. "Neither can I. You dragged me out here, kissed me, and now what? Do we just head back to prom like nothing happened?"

As you stood there with Jungkook, still processing everything, a voice crackled over the speakers from inside the venue.

“Attention, everyone! The moment you’ve all been waiting for—the announcement of our prom king and queen!”

You turned to Jungkook, your hand still in his. “We should probably head back.”

Jungkook shook his head, grinning. “As if I’d win prom king. And there’s no way you'd win, unless you consideration of just how breathtaking you are tonight."

You tilted your head, smirking. “What if I do win prom queen? Don’t you want to be there for my big moment?”

You both laughed at the thought. But before you could say anything else, the emcee’s voice rang out.

“And this year’s prom king is… Mr. Jeon Jungkook!”

You both froze. You stared at him in disbelief. “No way.”

Jungkook blinked, confused. “Did they—? Are we hearing the same thing?”

The crowd inside erupted with cheers, and before Jungkook could react, the emcee continued, “And this year’s prom queen is none other than Ms. Y/N L/N!”

Your jaw dropped as you looked at Jungkook, astonished. “Okay, now I know this is a joke. Sana definitely set this up.”

Jungkook grabbed your hand and began leading you back toward the venue. “Well, come on, Your Majesty. Let’s go claim our crowns!”

As you entered the hall, all eyes turned to you, clapping and cheering. Jungkook’s friends were the loudest, practically bouncing with excitement.

You and Jungkook were brought up onto the stage, where the emcee placed crowns on your heads. Jungkook leaned down and whispered, “I guess we’re more popular than we thought.”

You snorted, trying not to laugh in front of everyone.

As the first notes of a slow song filled the air, the emcee gestured to the dance floor. “And now, the prom king and queen’s dance!”

Jungkook extended his hand to you, his grin widening. “Shall we, Your Highness?”

You rolled your eyes playfully but took his hand. “Let’s not trip over our crowns, Your Majesty.”

As you both danced under the sparkling lights, the crowd faded into the background, leaving just the two of you. This wasn’t just any dance—it was a moment that felt timeless, a memory forming in your heart.

You hadn’t even wanted to come tonight, yet here you were, wrapped in Jungkook’s warm embrace, feeling as if everything had led to this unexpected moment. Looking into his eyes, you understood—this wasn’t just the end of the night; it was the start of something even greater.

For the first time, it all made sense. Like two pieces of a puzzle that had been searching for each other, you fit together effortlessly, naturally, as if this was where you always belong to each other.

end.

[bunnyykoo]

part time lover; jjk

➳ pairing: investigative journalist!jeongguk x daycare teacher!reader. alternatively, spy!jeongguk x assassin!reader

➳ genre: smut, fluff, angst, fake marriage au, dad au, spy x family au

➵ word count: 30.8k

➳ summary: there is no crime more perfect than marrying jeon jeongguk. your relationship is nothing more than a ruse - while your friends pester you for being perpetually single, jeongguk desperately needs a wife to complete the pristine image of a family, fooling his way through the parent interview at the nation’s most prestigious private school.

only time will tell how deep your lies will run as you find home in one another’s minds. because untangled in the moonlight, he is but a spy, exposing a secret world of corruption, and you, an assassin, ridding the streets of danger one hit at a time. 

➳ warnings: themes of parenthood, raising a child, reader and jk were both orphans, reader has a past where she struggled with financially supporting her family, eldest daughter trauma, reader is insecure, fears of abandonment, mentions of violence and m*rder (but not explicit), mention of weapons (guns, knives, grenades, poison),  jk has a bruise from boxing, descriptions of an explosion, blood is drawn twice (via kitchen knife and shrapnel from aforementioned explosion), (1) mention of weight loss, jk changes his appearance in an attempt to fit in, mention of a minor car crash, social drinking, scars (surgical/knife, bullet wounds), characters are liars for the sake of the plot, side characters are misogynists (satire), food descriptions, pet names (hers: angel, good girl, princess his: love). 

➳ a/n: thank you for being so patient with me as i toiled through this fic. it wasn't an easy one! but i do think it's special because of how healing the journey was for me <3 please enjoy, let me know what you think. don't forget to check out the other fics from the "industry baby" collab hosted by the ever so lovely @jeonjcngkook and @mercurygguk !

➳ smut warnings: virgin reader, sexual tension, body worship, nipple play, marking, oral (f receiving), fingering, hair pulling, unprotected sex, jk has a big dick, praising, stomach bulge, spitting, use of the word slut, marriage kink(?) he loves his wife so much, reader wants to be bred, cumshot

Jeongguk, 26 Investigative journalist at Golden News Network Less than a mile away To whom it may concern, I am a single father looking for a wife (DM me for serious inquiries only). 

“Your profile is dog shit,” Seokjin deadpans. The cringe settles into the downward turn of his lips as he swipes through his best friend’s Tinder account. “You’d be bitchless if you weren’t hot.” 

“Jin, watch your mouth.” Jeongguk shoots a deadly glare toward the older man. “There are children around.” 

From the kitchen, Jeongguk cranes his neck to take a peek into the messy living room where his adopted daughter sits, criss-crossed, in front of the television. Minji is too distracted by her weekly cartoon updates to even notice the crude language. 

“Minny, don’t sit too close to the TV,” he sends his daughter a stern yet gentle reminder. “Your eyeballs are gonna fall out of your head if you do.” 

A frown etches itself onto Minji’s face as she scooches back on her knees. 

Jeongguk returns his attention to the dinner he’s preparing tonight. A pot of homemade tomato sauce simmers on the stovetop. 

In the back of his mind, he wonders if his dating profile is as terribly unappealing as Seokjin says it is. Otherwise he wouldn’t have so many notifications, right? ー Messages from girls, asking if he could be their daddy too. Jeongguk’s bio is short and straight to the point. He’s not that ugly, or so he thinks. Being a journalist is a respectable occupation with steady income. So what could be so bad about it? 

Is it the fact that Jeongguk isn’t even his real name ー nothing but a fake persona to help him with his investigation? Maybe it’s because his adopted daughter doesn’t have a striking resemblance to him, and his pictures look like a shady scam. 

But there’s no way that they can see through Jeongguk’s facade. After all, he’s the best spy in the agency. His specialty is deceit. It’s foolproof. There’s no reason not to believe him. 

“I think they’re really into the whole dad thing,” Jeongguk nods, focusing on the sliced onions in front of him. The smell of garlic and fresh herbs permeate through the air.

“Really?” Seokjin says in feigned disbelief. He leans back against the couch, making himself comfortable. “It’s not because of the video where you’re deepthroating a deep dish pizza? Just for that, I would have gotten on my hands and knees to suck your di-.” 

“Can you seriously watch your language?” Jeongguk cuts him off before pointing a knife in his direction. 

Kim Seokjin may be his closest colleague, but that’s exactly where he draws the line. Seokjin is nothing more than Jeongguk’s informant. His job is to get the latest intel on all of his targets, and that’s it. He’s not here to fool around or make friends.

“We took that video in Chicago. Doesn’t it show that I’m well traveled?” Jeongguk asks with genuine curiosity. He remembers reading an article about how women love that sort of stuff. 

Seokjin pinches the bridge of his nose. “It’s gonna be a long, long night,” he mutters to himself. His best friend is beyond the point of fixing, but at least he makes a good househusband. 

Jeongguk wipes his hands against his frilly apron before dipping a wooden spoon into the pot. He inches the tomato sauce closer to his pursed lips as he blows on the piping hot confection. It could use more parsley. 

Just when Jeongguk thought he could distract himself with cooking, he suddenly remembers the pressing problem that occupies all of his brain space: he is in desperate need of a wife. The constant reminder is taped to the front of the fridge 一 a letter from Minji’s prospective elementary school. 

Dear Jeon family,  Congratulations! Your child’s preliminary results indicate that he/she has passed the entrance exam at Hwa Yang Academy. Our institution carries a prestigious reputation, accepting only the nation’s brightest students. Due to your child’s outstanding academic score, we invite you to the second phase of admissions where a family interview will be conducted. Please have both parents and child present at Yeon Hwa Hall on the first of May, promptly at 10am.  It is our good fortune that you chose to apply to Hwa Yang Academy. We look forward to welcoming you and your family to our renowned institution.  Sincerely,  Department of Admissions at Hwa Yang Academy

The fact that Minji received an interview at the top school in the nation is amazing beyond belief. Everything is going according to plan. The only problem is that Jeon Jeongguk is, in fact, bitchless. 

“Remind me again, why do you need to get Minji into that school?” Seokjin furrows his brows. He’s never seen his best friend this stressed. The way that Jeongguk is willing to jump through hoops makes him feel as if he’s never wanted anything so bad in his life. 

Jeongguk clenches the wooden spoon in his hand, threatening to give himself a splinter. “I have to get access to Hwa Yang,” he says, like it’s do or die. “There are families with infinite amounts of political power there, including the prime minister. The big boss suspects that they’re planning a rebellion, and I need to get close to them to expose their secrets. Obviously I can’t even touch the elite without pretending to be one myself. So I need this family to be as perfect as it can be.” 

“You think you can prevent a whole rebellion and save the country if you go to a few parent association meetings? Bake a batch of cookies like a soccer mom?” Seokjin’s questions are sarcastic, but he’s not wrong. He needs to infiltrate the prime minister’s inner circle, befriend him, and uncover his government secrets. But doing so would be impossible without first securing a wife and earning acceptance into the school. 

“If it comes down to making a paper mache volcano, I’ll do it.” The determination in Jeongguk’s eyes is unwavering. 

“You really expect to get through the admission interview with a fake wife? I can’t even get a single date, but you think you can get married by the end of the month?” Seokjin laughs at the expense of his own heartache. 

“Maybe the mommies would like you more if you weren’t so de-looshe-in-ull,” Minji chimes. 

Has she been listening all along?

“Delusional?” Seokjin scoffs, fueled with exasperation. Lately, he’s had thoughts about being a kinder person, yet a part of him still believes that he deserves the last word in every conversation. “Where did you learn about that?” he queries, balling up his hands. 

“Appa,” Minji replies, pointing at the man in question. 

Seokjin winds his fist back as if he’s throwing a punch across the room, but he listens to the screaming voice in the back of his head. The one that tells him he’s much too pretty to get pummeled today ー that his face would look better if Jeongguk’s fist wasn’t imprinted on the surface of it. So instead of starting a fight with a five year old girl, Seokjin folds his knees against his chest, cursing under his breath. Maybe he can be the bigger person. 

“So why can’t the agency send another spy operative to play house with you?” Seokjin asks, resorting to a life of civility under Jeongguk’s roof. He forces a smile through gritted teeth and returns his attention to the dating app in the palm of his hands, half-listening to his best friend. 

“Well, a bunch of police officers arrested our agents. There’s only a few people left on the team. Haven’t you seen the news? The government is cracking down on espionage.” Jeongguk rolls his eyes, clenching his jaw. “They use women as their scapegoat, filling up some stupid quota for incarceration.” How can men be so ignorant and simple minded?  

Ironically, Seokjin flashes his phone in front of Jeongguk’s face. “Swipe left or right, what do you think?” Yep, the minds of men are pretty simple, and Seokjin definitely didn’t hear a single word that came out of Jeongguk’s mouth. 

Y/N Daycare teacher at children’s municipal library 1 mile away Critics review: ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ “Loves her emotional support characters, and will only ever love her emotional support characters”  “Can’t cook to save her life, but she can top off your ramen with a fried egg”  “Pros: loving and down to earth, great with kids. Cons: doesn’t know her own strength, hates mushrooms, has a quirky laugh” 

“You know what? I’ll swipe right. You’ll get more matches if you do,” Seokjin suggests with a determined nod. 

Jeongguk stares at his informant in disbelief, jaw slack. There’s no way this stupid app is going to land him a wife by the end of the month. 

“What do you think about this guy?” 

“Hard pass. I mean, look at his photos. His whole personality is about working out.” 

“Okay, then what about this one?” 

“Nah, he looks too stuck-up. I don’t think he can take a joke.” 

“How about her? She’s pretty, right?” 

“She doesn’t even have a bio! What if she’s a catfish?” 

From the way your coworkers appraise these people, they act as if they’re the ones looking for a partner. Because as a matter of fact, it’s your phone in their hand, swiping away on your dating app. 

It doesn’t matter if there are library books that need to be stowed away or paperwork to be filed. They pay no mind to the clock indicating that there’s 30 minutes left in the work day because finding you a significant other seems to be their only priority. 

“Sujin, stop being so picky. At this rate, y/n isn’t going to get a date if you swipe left on everyone,” Yumi whines. 

“Why did you make a profile for me anyways? I don’t need to be in a relationship.” The sound of your widely unpopular opinion makes the two girls look up with big, round eyes. 

“Aren’t you ever lonely?” There’s a hint of pity that lingers in Yumi’s voice. 

You find it quite offensive that she would think that. As much as you’d like to keep your job, you would also like to rip the rug out from beneath Yumi’s feet until she falls flat on her face. But the reality is, you really need this job. So all you do is shake your head and grit your teeth. “No, not really.” 

“Life is soo much more romantic when you have someone to love.” Sujin’s unblinking eyes make you wonder if she’s being held hostage against her will. Is her boyfriend tapping into her phone, listening to all of her conversations? 

“y/n, you’ve never been in a relationship before. Do you ever feel like you’re missing out on something?” There’s a pout that rests on Yumi’s lips. Her tone leaks with faux sympathy. “Hobi just got married, and Nari’s having a baby. We’re all grown up, and I don’t want you to feel left out, especially at my engagement party next weekend. It might bring out some… bitter feelings.” 

You resist the urge to roll your eyes, reminding yourself that you should definitely not push Yumi down the stairs at the end of your shift. “I think I’ll be content on my own.” 

“Here, look through the app for a little while. Maybe you’ll find someone that you like. Just give it a chance, okay?” Sujin hands the phone back to you. “You should really think about it. San tells me he’s been worried about you.”

Your expression falls upon hearing your younger brother’s name. Of all people, San should know that you value nothing more than your independence. 

“He just wants you to be happy ー for someone to take care of you.” 

Some part of you believes that Sujin is projecting her opinions and throwing your brother under the bus. “I don’t need anyone to take care of me,” you assure her. “I can be happy on my own.” 

Nowadays, many people come to believe that a wedding ring is the solution to everyone’s misfortune. Supposedly, it’ll keep you safe from all things cruel in this world. They don’t seem to realize that there are problems that run much deeper than being single. It’s as if something must be inherently wrong with you if you’ve never had a partner, let alone a first kiss. 

You have to admit that sometimes, their words can hurt like knives. It’s damaging to your self-esteem if you really think about it. Because surely, everyone wants to be loved and to be desired ー to be chosen. How nice would it be to lie in bed, held and comforted by something other than the warmth of your own body?

If you were to have a relationship, perhaps you could go to bookstores together and read for hours on end. The two of you could laugh and sing at the top of your lungs, dancing like fools in the dim light of the bathroom with toothbrushes tucked between molars. You could listen to ballads on the radio and finally resonate with the lyrics, plastering a goofy, lovestruck smile on your face. If you were in love, you could share childhood memories, and even the mundane details would be tucked away for safekeeping. You’d know one another's biggest fears and greatest vulnerabilities. Even when you reveal the ugliest parts of yourself, they would choose you over and over again. 

If there was just one person to run their fingers across all of your curves, your dips, your scars, only to tell you that you are still the object of their affection, then perhaps you would give love a chance.

But having thought about love your entire life, and never yet to experience it, you’re certain that you’re better off on your own. Ever since you were a little kid, it’s always been you, yourself, and your grief. You’ve harbored yourself in your own bones for decades, so who knows you better than you know yourself ー truly and completely unfiltered? With your mind and wit so sharp, who will find you lovable when they discover there’s a blade where your heart is? 

If you were to find a partner, there is simply no way that you can continue the life that you have. You could never return to them at the end of the night, bloodied and bruised, with no questions asked. Surely, it’s not an easy pill to swallow when you tell them that you're an assassin. There’s no sugar coating that. 

Much like being a daycare teacher, being an assassin is just another job. You started living this secret identity because it earned enough money to take care of your younger brother after your parents had passed away. It put food on the table and cash toward your bills. Money would roll into your bank account by the thousands. At 18 years old, that type of money was unfathomable. But now that San is old enough to take care of himself, there’s really no need to continue this lifestyle. 

Yet you pursue the chase because there’s a certain thrill that comes from seeking justice and vigilance. These monsters no longer hide beneath your brother’s bed. Instead, they lurk between the shadows ー among the alleyways and abandoned parts of town. They prey on those who are weak and exploit them for all that they are. 

If the law enforcement team is never going to uphold their end of the social contract, you have to be the one to act first and eliminate them. So with every job completed, you can be certain that the world is safer one hit at a time. 

But to continue being an assassin, you have to keep this secret under wraps. You’ll be forced to hide under a life of normalcy, as nothing more than a naive and innocent daycare teacher at the local library ー a background character in the story of others. In all honesty, you prefer to keep your secrets tucked away. Because to be loved is to be known, and you simply cannot let that happen. 

Some people aren’t made for romance, and maybe you’re one of them. Nobody shall ever hold your heart in their hands without pricking their own flesh. 

Despite all that is said and done, some part of you thinks that there’s no harm in checking out the unpromising dating app. Curiosity gets the best of you as you mindlessly swipe through all of the profiles. However, everyone you’ve come across is either too shallow, too arrogant, or too boring. 

A defeated sigh slips past your lips until you come across a certain profile. You look closer at the photos, inspecting each one with great care. There are only so many pictures: one of him and his dog, a second one of him shoving a Chicago deep dish down his throat, and another with a young child. Tattoos litter across his sun-kissed skin, and piercings scatter his handsome face ー beautiful in the most unorthodox ways.

His bio reads: “To whom it may concern, I am a single father looking for a wife (DM me for serious inquiries only).” 

Have you seen this man before? Could it be… him? 

The longer that you stare at his profile, the more concerned you become. At this rate, you’ve created an entire fantasy about a relationship with this stranger, and now you’re planning the dinner menu for your wedding. But there’s no way that you’d actually consider swiping right and messaging him, right? You don’t even want a boyfriend! This man could be joking for all you know. 

When the clock strikes the hour, a chime resounds through the air. You shake your head, finally coming to your senses. You slip your device into your pocket, forgetting about the man who lives in your phone. 

Jeongguk. His name is Jeongguk. 

“Appaaa!” There’s a piercing cry that slices through the air as the little girl begs for her father’s affection. From behind the bookshelves, the curious librarian pokes her head between the gaps to catch a glimpse of the commotion. 

“Don’t let go, please, please, pleeease!” The young child slips her tiny hand into her father’s, shaking it back and forth with a sense of urgency. 

Jeongguk stands frozen in place. The apples of his cheeks darken into a rosy hue. It’s a little embarrassing to be that parent ー the one who can’t control his child’s outbursts in the middle of a public space, let alone a library, an academic sanctuary that promises peace and quiet. 

With a heavy, exhausted sigh, Jeongguk crouches down to meet his daughter’s innocent expression. “Minny, I promise you, I’m not going anywhere. I ask that you give me ten minutes, okay?” His voice is firm and assertive. It’s a little rough around the edges, but it can’t be helped. He speaks in a way that commands attention from the room. This is the only way he knows how to demand respect from his subordinates. 

“I just need to pick up a few things. We can go home afterwards, so be a good girl until then,” Jeongguk bargains. “You can go to the playroom, and the nice librarian will take care of you.” 

Minji squeezes her tiny hands into fists, and she dies on the inside. Tears form in the corner of her eyes. Even the slightest change in her father’s tone makes her believe that she’s done something wrong. Her worst nightmare flashes before her eyes. 

Would her father abandon if she were to misbehave? Or worse, would he dare to return her to the orphanage she was adopted from? What if her biggest fear comes to fruition? After all, it’s not uncommon for parents to realize far too late that kids are too difficult to handle. Then, they’re left hoping and praying for some kind of return policy for their own flesh and blood. 

Minji’s eyes become glossy at the thought of it, unlocking a hidden memory from the past, but she refuses to let herself falter underneath his piercing stare. Yet no matter how hard she tries to keep the tears at bay, her emotions get the best of her, and her resolve crumbles into smithereens. After all, she’s only five years old. 

It appears that the authoritative approach only works in the combat room, but perhaps not with a five year old girl. So Jeongguk lowers his defenses and drops to his knees. He wipes the tears away with the pad of his thumb, and she sniffles even harder when he comforts her. 

There’s something about the little girl’s demeanor that reminds Jeongguk of himself when he was younger. Perhaps it’s the need for her father’s approval ー the desire to please and put others above herself. Maybe it’s her tenacity for standing tall and strong despite the dull ache in her tender heart. 

“You can let it all out,” he reaffirms. A beat of silence passes by while he caresses her cheek, allowing the tears to fall. “You ’kay now?” 

Minji reluctantly agrees with the slow nod of her head, but she avoids her father’s strong gaze, staring down at her shoes, sullen. When the warmth of her father’s hand disappears, another sniffle racks through her body. 

Normally, Minji is never one to throw a tantrum, but what does Jeongguk know? Just when he thought he had a hang of the whole “parenting” thing, he’s thrown into a loop. In spite of Jeongguk’s confident demeanor, he genuinely doesn’t know the first thing about raising a child, let alone a daughter. 

In his past ten years of being an undercover spy, he has diffused nuclear bombs and hacked into government files, but nothing has ever prepared him for being a single parent. Yet as a man and a father, he needs to do better. He needs to be better. The least he can do is try.

Jeongguk raises a hand between their bodies, extending his pinky for her to interlock, pledging his vow. “I’ll be back for you in ten minutes, I swear.” He reassures his daughter before planting a kiss on the crown of her head. He crosses his fingers, silently praying that she won’t cry again. 

A dribble of snot falls from Minji’s nose. Her eyelashes are soaked. A dramatic hiccup heaves through her tiny, five-year old body. 

Jeongguk can feel the venomous judgment of everyone around him. They must think that he’s utterly unfit to be a father, and they would be right. 

They would wonder: What kind of child causes a scene in public, screaming, crying, and begging her father not to abandon her? How can he send her to the playroom where there’s nothing but disgusting germs and snotty kids? Is he seriously going to hand off his responsibilities to a total stranger in an underfunded public institution? 

They can easily write Jeongguk off as a villain ー a big, scary man with piercings and tattoos. They could hurl accusations at him with no regard as to where they land. All it takes is a quick glance and a first impression (a false one at that). Obviously, they would think he’s someone who’s not built for child rearing because of the slits in his eyebrows and the gel in his hair. There must not be a gentle bone that resides in his big, burly body, but for that, they would be wrong.

The worst part about this whole “father” situation is not necessarily the judgment of others. He is familiar with scrutiny, and he knows it all too well. Rather, it’s that Jeongguk was never particularly fond of having children of his own. Some people are not cut out for fatherhood, and that’s simply the truth of the matter. But that doesn’t mean he won't do his best. He can’t let Minji down. He won’t. 

As if Minji could read his thoughts, she raises her arms, begging to be picked up. Her sniffles have long died down. 

Jeongguk takes a deep breath before caving into her wishes and hooking an arm around her knees. Minji’s grimy, little hands cling around his neck, and an inaudible, celebratory noise escapes from her lips. 

Minji nuzzles her head beneath her father’s chin. She chatters about the incomprehensible things that only five year olds would understand. She is an enigma beyond her father’s own understanding, but he is determined to learn the ins and outs of this child no matter what it takes, even if it kills him. 

After Jeongguk had finally dropped Minji off at the library’s playroom, he peruses the non-fiction shelves in search of answers. 

How the hell is he going to raise a child? 

He thumbs through all of the top-rated parenting books available, skimming through the blurbs, trying to absorb enough information to pass judgment on them. Because if he’s going to follow parenting advice from someone else, they better be successful in their trials. Jeongguk doesn’t want to be the one to fuck up his own child’s brain chemistry.

There’s a sudden tap on his shoulder that helps Jeongguk to escape from the existential dread of fatherhood.

“Excuse me, sir.” A soft voice sounds from behind him. Your breath catches onto the nape of his neck.  

“How did this woman sneak up on me without me noticing? Maybe I’m losing my touch.” Jeongguk wonders, shocked by his carelessness. Because from behind, he didn’t hear the fall of a single footstep. The air was still and undisturbed until he felt your presence a moment too late. Normally, he would have surveilled everyone within a mile radius before they could even think about approaching him. But you managed to do it so effortlessly. He’s never met a woman so stealthy. 

“I think this belongs to you.” Your voice interrupts his stream of consciousness. 

The man before you turns around, and surely, he is a sight for sore eyes 一 a little intimidating to say the least. There’s a silver ring that protrudes from his bottom lip, contrasting against the subtle pink. Even more metal resides against the surface of his skin, a piercing on either side of his eyebrow. There’s a scar that sits on his cheekbone, and you can’t help but wonder how it got there. 

You’ve only ever admired this stranger from afar. Most days, he never fails to browse the children’s manhwa section with a talkative child latched onto his leg. Up close, he looks like a tough guy, but the moment he sees his adorable daughter clinging onto your dress, the hard look in his eyes softens. A dimple carves itself into the curve of his cheek. 

“Who do we have here?” His typical inflection changes into something slightly more playful. But he uses it to mask his exhausted state.

“Appa, appa! Miss y/l/n is so pretty, don’t you think?” Minji says enthusiastically. 

A flame ignites beneath the surface of Jeongguk’s skin. He grows flustered under the little girl’s stare.

Your eyes widen. You’ve never been considered “pretty” by conventional standards. It’s not often that you hear those words, if ever, really. 

“Minji, everyone has their own opinions, but you shouldn’t push your beliefs onto someone else,” you begin as a form of damage control. “I’m so sorry, but she ran up to me, saying she lost her father. She seemed so distressed, and I thought she was going to burst into tears if she couldn’t find you.” 

Jeon Jeongguk has never known peace before. Minji is just as sneaky and conniving as her father; she’s a filthy liar just like him. 

“No, no, it’s okay, don’t apologize. Her attachment issues have grown by the day,” Jeongguk replies, shaking his head. He wears a bashful smile, cheeks tinged with pink. “Minny, do you remember what I taught you?” He crouches down to pick his daughter up by the waist, squeezing her sides. 

“Don’t sleep with wet hair otherwise I might get hippo-pot-a-therm-ia?” Minji recalls, butchering the pronunciation. 

Jeongguk bites the inside of his cheek, shaking his head. “No, the other thing.” 

“Minny doesn’t have to eat anything that she doesn’t want to?” 

“I never said that.” A look of disapproval crosses her father’s features. 

“Drawing mustaches on sleepy people is wrong unless it’s Seokjin samchon?” 

He scrunches his nose, nodding his head from side to side as though he’s contemplating. “Well… yes, but no. Try again. The thing about beauty.” 

“Oh! Beauty is something that comes from the inside!” Minji’s eyes light up upon recognition.

“Exactly, it comes from inside.” Jeongguk reminds her. He presses his pointer finger against Minji’s sternum for emphasis. Upon his touch, a sweet giggle falls from her lips. 

“But you do think it’s true, don’t you?” Minji asks once again, persistent. “Miss y/l/n is really pretty.” 

The blush on his cheeks grow a shade darker. “Minny, of course I think she’s pretty. I thought we talked about this.” Although he lowers his voice like it’s a secret, you can still hear every single word. 

Minji giggles to herself, hiding her face behind her hands. 

Jeongguk has always known your face, but never your name. “Miss y/l/n, right?” 

It sounds odd to hear your title from a grown man, but you laugh it off with a chuckle. “Yeah, that’s what the kids at the daycare call me. It’s just y/n though.” 

Jeongguk readjusts his daughter in his arms before reaching for a handshake. “I’m just Jeongguk.” It doesn’t strike how little his name means to him. Of course it’s just an alias for the sake of the mission. He picked it on a whim, but it suits him more than he had thought. Jeon Jeongguk, pillar of the nation. The lie tumbles out of his lips so naturally, and he doesn't have to think twice. 

His eyes lower into crescent moons as the corner of his lips curve into a smile, something akin to fondness. A shallow dimple finds its way onto his cheeks. 

Dammit. He’s cute. 

You reach forward, cupping your hand around his in a reverent greeting. He holds you gently as if there’s a butterfly that had landed on the tip of his fingers. It contrasts against your strong grip. 

Observant as ever, Jeongguk notices that there’s no sign of a ring on your hand. He digs through the arsenal of intel that’s locked up inside his brain. Thanks to Seokjin’s sticky fingers, he managed to spend an entire weekend studying the most recent census information, getting to know the profiles of everyone in the city (just in case). There has to be some information about you stored in his head. 

“y/n… Where did I see that name before?” He thinks to himself, mentally sifting through all the files he’s read. “Ah, I remember now. File #901: y/l/n, y/n. Never married, never divorced. Orphaned at the age of eighteen. She has one younger brother. Both of them have clean records ー never been in trouble with the police, never even received a speeding ticket.”

“Jeongguk…” you murmur his name as if you’re testing the waters. “I know. I’ve seen you around before.” 

Minji might have accidentally let it slip that he’s the man who's been her appa ‘for a very long time.’ She never seemed to mention that she’s adopted. Instead, she continues to describe her father as someone super handsome and very single. 

“Really?” Although he’s noticed you plenty of times before, he’s surprised that you recognize him. Jeongguk doesn’t like drawing attention. He supposes that lately, it’s been difficult when his daughter attracts a lot of eyes. 

“Most of the time, you wander through the aisles, half-dead like a zombie, with a cup of coffee in your hand.” You lean forward, speaking in a hushed tone. “You really aren’t allowed to bring drinks into the library, but my coworkers let it slide because they think you’re handsome.” 

Perhaps you’ve overshared because Jeongguk stares at you blankly, taken aback by the news. 

“Here’s another secret.” You beckon him closer once again, speaking barely above a whisper. “You should be careful about reading parenting books. You’ll end up stressed about what to do if it doesn’t work, and you’ll feel like a failure by the end of it.”

His eyes widen in surprise. He had hoped that the parenting books would put an end to his sleepless nights. “What do you think I should do then? I don’t know how to deal with this monster right here.” He ruffles Minji’s hair in endearment. 

“Hey!” Minji shouts in defense of herself.

“That’s not to say you shouldn’t read any parenting books. It’s just trial and error,” you shrug. “As much as you don’t want to hear it, there’s really no right answer.”

Jeongguk drops his shoulders, slightly disappointed. The defeated look on his face is a feeling you can sympathize with. 

“But if it helps, I think it’s important that children need a little bit of softness every now and then, especially because the world is so cruel.” You flash him a gentle smile, urging him to lighten up on his daughter. He needs to stop pretending that raising a child is anything like the military or the spy academy. 

Upon hearing your conversation, there’s a mischievous sparkle that appears in Minji’s eyes. “Miss y/l/n, do you wanna be my eomma?” 

You stare blankly at her, blinking as though you are processing her question. The words die on your tongue, yet you cock your head to the side, meeting the little girl’s gaze. “Y- your eomma?” you reiterate, startled. 

“Pleaseee? I’m so lonely with no eomma,” Minji pouts, melodramatic as ever. She puts her hand on her forehead as if she’s feigning an illness. 

“Jeongguk, do you happen to be looking for a wife?” 

“Is this your way of asking me out?” He leans forward, inclined to hear your proposal. 

You wonder if this is a bad time to mention his Tinder profile. It could be a little awkward knowing that you’ve also made an account on that wretched app. There’s nothing inherently embarrassing about wanting to find love through modern dating, but why is it so hard to admit it?

You weigh your options in your head, but Jeongguk beats you to it. 

“Because if you did 一 ya’ know 一 ask me out, I would have said-” His words are cut short. 

“You know what? I’m sorry if I was being too forward-” Mentally, you want to smack yourself on the head.

Jeongguk didn’t mention anything about a girlfriend, let alone a wife. He has no idea that you’ve seen his Tinder before. You never even swiped. You never matched. 

After you found his profile, you tucked your phone away and refused to open the app again. The blissful state of not knowing is better than playing the waiting game. Will he swipe, will he not? Will he message you and jumpstart some epic romance? 

You decide to tell him the truth and swallow your pride before coming across as a complete weirdo wrapped up in her delusions. 

“It’s just that… the other day, my friends made a dating profile for me because they’re worried I’ll be single for the rest of my life. I came across your account, and I thought you looked familiar. So I just wanted to know if you’re actually looking for a wife because I swear, I’ll do it.” 

Jeongguk has never been this close to making a breakthrough, and he thinks he’s half in love with you. “Are you being serious?” he wonders as a precaution. “Don’t lie to me because I really need this to be a dream come true right now.” 

His daughter reaches forward to pinch his cheeks. Jeongguk winces at the pain, and he’s certain that this moment is real. 

“Do you want me to get down on one knee?” Your face is devoid of any banter, eyes fixed on Jeongguk as if you’re genuinely offering yourself to him. “Why do you need a wife? Tax money? Green card? Ex who won’t leave you alone?” 

“It’s complicated,” Jeongguk begins. 

“Trust me, I know it's complicated when I see it.” There’s a challenging look in your eyes, urging him to continue. 

“Well, the other day, Minny passed the entrance exam for Hwa Yang Academy. Now, the  board has to conduct an interview with the family, but they said they would want both parents to be there.” 

“You can’t tell them that you’re a single father?” 

“I think it’ll hurt her chances of getting accepted,” he explains. “I want my daughter to attend a good school. Her late mother would have wanted the same thing for her.” 

“Appa said lying is wrong, but he’s so good at it,” Minji thinks to herself. 

“Do you really think that I’m fit for the role?” You’ve never really had a penchant for acting or playing pretend. Lying, on the other hand, that is your strong suit. 

“I don’t mean to be too forward, but I think you’re perfect.” Jeongguk speaks his truth without any hesitation. He looks at you with such sweet and delicate eyes. “You seem to be great with children, and Minny adores you already.” 

You eye him as if you’re considering his offer, but you’ve already made up your mind. “I’ll do it, but only if you do a favor for me too. Are you free next weekend?” 

“Next weekend?” Jeongguk raises an eyebrow. It’s starting to make sense why you agreed to do this in the first place. You need something in exchange, quid pro quo. 

“My friends are throwing an engagement party. They’re worried about me all the time because I’m single, but I thought I would lay it to rest if I told them I finally had a boyfriend, or at least someone I’m talking to.” Your speech gets faster and faster with every word that comes out of your mouth. “I know it sounds crazy, Iー” 

“I’ll do it.”

You stare blankly at him, unsure if you heard correctly, but a smile continues to creep onto the corners of your lips. “You will?” 

Jeongguk reaches forward, gently taking your hand in his. “It would be an honor to be your boyfriend,” he says, even if it’s just pretend. “And an even bigger honor to be your husband.” 

“y/n!” 

You don’t hear your name being called relentlessly until your co-workers are shouting for your attention. Their words fall upon deaf ears. 

As usual, they had been gossiping about their boyfriends and their weekend plans. You checked out of the conversation the moment Yumi opened her mouth and uttered her fiancé’s name, resisting the urge to gag. 

You look up from your lap, slightly too distracted. There’s a small, maroon stain and a rip in the skirt of your dress. It’s not easy keeping your clothes in pristine condition when you’re constantly running toward danger. You’re lost in thought, wondering how much the tailor shop will charge you for sewing it back together. 

“What are you doing this weekend? There’s a new episode of that drama you like, right? Are you going to order delivery again?” Yumi assumes. “You know, you should step outside from time to time. Maybe you’ll find a nice person to date if Tinder doesn’t pan out.” 

“Actually, I have plans after work,” you announce before returning to inspect the damage on your dress. 

“With who? Did you meet someone on the app?” The cadence of Sujin’s voice is airy, shocked in disbelief. 

“I’m meeting up with some guy.” You try not to make it a big deal, but these girls always blow it out of proportion. “I didn’t meet him from the app though.” 

“You’re seeing someone? Who?! You can’t just drop the news and expect us not to ask for the details!” Sujin shouts. 

“He was at the library the other day, and he asked me out. He’s the one with the tattoos ー y’all would recognize him if you saw him,” you explain. “Minji is his daughter.” 

“The guy with the coffee?” Everyone collectively gasps upon connecting the dots. “Him? How did you manage to pull that?!” 

Ouch. That hurts. 

“I would dump my fiancé in a heartbeat if the coffee guy could blow my back out,” Yumi confesses. 

How could she be so shallow? She was just talking about how much she loved her fiancé. Is he really that disposable? Besides, is Jeongguk nothing more than the coffee guy? A pretty face who’s made for a one night stand? You’re starting to think that people don’t actually value their relationships. They just want a partner for the sake of having one.

There’s a sudden chime that resounds through the air, pulling you out of your thoughts. The service bell at the front desk had been struck. It’s odd considering most people exited the library by now, knowing that it closes in ten minutes. 

You all poke your head through the doorway to catch a glimpse of the patron. Their eyes widen in surprise when they see the coffee guy standing at the front desk. He stands tall and proud with a military stance, a head above everyone else. There’s a bouquet of pink camellias resting in his hand in place of his typical americano. 

“Jeongguk? I thought we were meeting at the cafe.” Perhaps you remembered the details of the conversation wrong.  

When you speak his name out loud, all the girls shift their gaze to one another. Could it really be true that you’re seeing a man? 

“I thought it would be nice if I could surprise you, and we’d walk there together.” He flashes a smile that sends an arrow straight through the heart (and through those of your coworkers). For a second, you think that Yumi might just faint. 

He’s handsome as ever, just as you recall. But today, there’s something that’s slightly out of place. There’s a bandage that rests on the bridge of his nose. It’s pink with Sanrio characters plastered all over it ー Hello Kitty and My Melody. There’s something about it that makes him even more endearing. 

You try to stifle a giggle as you shoot him an apology. “Sorry, can you hang around for a few more minutes? I have some things to do before closing.”

“Take your time, angel.” Jeongguk says. Crinkles begin to form at the corner of his eyes as the curve of his lips overtake him. 

You have to admit that the pet name made your heart flutter. He plays into the role of a sweet boyfriend pretty accurately. It’s all part of the act. 

Sujin closes the door to the office. The girls break into squeals. They playfully hit your shoulder in disbelief, elbowing your sides. “I can’t believe it! y/n is going out with a man?!” 

“And he’s hot!” 

You shake your head before returning to your work station, ignoring their cheers. But you can’t help the subtle smile that reaches your lips. Maybe the girls will finally leave you the fuck alone. 

“I’m so sorry for the wait.” You apologize as you approach Jeongguk, looking like a disheveled mess after an 8 hour shift. Your blouse is slightly wrinkled, and you’re certain there’s residue left behind from all the marker stains the kids had carelessly drawn on you. Your arm is full of stickers, and you’ll have to remember to peel them off later. 

In the daycare, Jeongguk is propped on top of a bean bag chair that is much too small for his body. There’s a manhwa that rests in his lap. It’s the one his daughter can’t stop talking about. 

“I got here ten minutes early anyways.” He places the book on the table before clambering to his feet. “Oh yeah, and these are for you.” He passes the bouquet of camellias. 

You raise your hands, not really sure how to accept the gift. You’re not the type of girl to receive flowers, love poems, or pretty things. Nobody has ever pursued you in that way. All you ever receive are cursory glances and awkward smiles, but never anything as beautiful as this. 

He inches the flowers a little closer to you, urging you to take it. 

You pull the bouquet to your nose, taking a whiff of the sweet scent. “These are really pretty. Thank you for that.” You motion for him to wait just a moment longer as you place the flowers into a vase. 

Through the porthole of the office door, you can see the girls squeal and jump around in unison. 

“Are you ready? Should we head out?” Jeongguk’s lips curl into a boyish smile. 

You nod, sharply turning your heels in an attempt to hide the fluster of your face. Before you could take a step forward, you’re pulled to a halt. There’s a tug on your arm that spins you around. Jeongguk’s fingers wrap around your wrist, pulling you close. 

“Wait one sec,” his breath fans across your face. “You have some chalk on your cheek. Can I-?” He raises his hand, tentatively learning forward. 

Heat rushes to the surface of your skin, yet you nod your head, giving into his request. “Is this part of the act?” you wonder out loud, low enough for Jeongguk to hear. 

“Only if you want it to be.” His deep voice sends a shiver down your spine. 

As he leans forward to wipe the dust off your cheek, your throat dries. You freeze, attempting to avoid his gaze. You’re not certain whether you’ll explode upon gazing into his dark brown eyes. 

Instead, you keep your sight locked straight ahead. It’s a terrible idea considering his strong chest is right in front of you. The top two buttons of his white collared shirt are undone, and the space between his pecs are exposed, a necklace dangling in between. There’s a chance that you might die staring at it, so you accept the risk of embarrassing yourself and glance at his visage instead. 

“There’s my pretty girl,” Jeongguk says, dusting off the chalk. 

A wave of butterflies swarm in the pit of your stomach, and your mind goes blank. You have no idea how to respond to such a compliment, and you’re unable to when your throat constricts. Your body warms, hyper aware of his palm on your cheek and the one wrapped around your wrist. Your one free hand that is not occupied by his clasp shoots up, hovering over the bandage plastered on his nose. 

“What happened here?” The words splutter out of your mouth, trying to say something. Anything. Perhaps your anxiety would be less noticeable if you could just act natural ー If you could stop standing there without a single thought in your head. 

“Bumped into a wall,” Jeongguk chuckles. It’s a blatant lie. He could never be this clumsy. In actuality, he had failed to duck during a sparring match with another spy at the agency. Fuck Kim Mingyu and his stupidly beefy arms. “Minny picked the bandage for me.” 

“You mean you didn’t choose to wear the Hello Kitty? I think it suits you.” As soon as you graze the bridge of his nose, his laughter turns into a dramatic groan. Soft murmurs of ‘ow, ow’ fall from his lips. 

“‘m sorry, ‘m sorry!” You apologize. 

His other hand gently grasps your palm, pulling it away from his sprained injury. Maybe your dating profile was right when it mentioned you don’t know your own strength. 

“Don’t worry, let’s just hope that Minny is okay,” Jeongguk remarks. “She insisted on wearing a matching bandaid because ‘if appa’s hurt, then Minny’s hurt.’ Kind of like a voodoo doll.” 

Subconsciously, the thought of Minny wearing a matching bandage despite being perfectly fine forces your lips into a smile. 

“Should we head out now?” Jeongguk leans closer, voice barely above a whisper. “Can I hold your hand? Give your friends a real show to watch?” It’s as if your hand wasn’t already in his. 

You nod your head, suddenly remembering that this is all an act. You’re reminded of the girls crowded around the office door, peeking through the small window to catch a glimpse of the action. 

Jeongguk’s hand glides down from your palm and between your fingers, lacing them together. A breath hitches in your throat, and you have to remind yourself to breathe. You can hear the high pitched screams from behind when the girls are convinced you’ve stepped far away enough. But it isn't as loud as the sound of your heart beating out of your chest. 

The two of you make your way to the cafe, walking side by side, hand-in-hand, occasionally bumping shoulders when you walk a little too close. 

“How was your day? I realized I never asked you what you do for work, and I don’t really know much about you in general,” you chuckle, slightly embarrassed. “I thought we would at least have our first kiss by now if we were married.” There’s a hint of sarcasm in your tone, one that Jeongguk easily recognizes because his informant, Seokjin, is nothing but shits and giggles. 

“We would have done more than kissing, but we can start slow.” The corners of his lips curl into a playful grin. His words make you freeze, but it doesn’t seem to faze him. 

With your hands linked together, Jeongguk is pulled back by your halted movements. He turns to face you, displaying his pretty eye-smile. “I’m a journalist,” he says. “I write investigative articles when they don’t ask me to cover silly politics.” 

Although it’s not completely true, it’s not totally false at the same time. He writes exposé articles based on the intel he uncovers from his spy missions. The articles that he writes are written under an anonymous name, obviously so he can’t be tracked for exposing highly classified information. Nobody should ever know that he’s digging into the lives of corrupt politicians. Jeongguk might never see the light of day if word gets out. 

“My routine is pretty consistent,” he explains. “I did some research for my article, wrote a few thousand words in my drafts before deciding to scrap the entirety of it, and I picked up Minny from kindergarten. I asked my friend to babysit her while I’m away tonight.” 

Jeongguk wants to scrub his tongue after admitting that Seokjin is his “friend.” 

“What about you? How’s your life at the library?” Jeongguk asks. 

You describe the events that spiraled today as the two of you head inside the coffee shop and place your orders. “Well, the girls seemed convinced that we’re on a date,” you chuckle. 

Jeongguk gasps. His hand clenches against his chest as if he’s wounded by your words. “You mean to tell me this isn’t a date? I thought we had something special.” He feigns exasperation. “You are my wife, after all, aren’t you?” 

You don’t care to admit how amusing it is to hear the word wife coming from him. Despite the smile that plays on your lips, you shake your head no.

“This isn’t a real date,” you explain in denial. Nobody has ever asked you out, and you’ll be damned if the first time is just pretend. “But I guess this is good practice, especially when the stakes are higher for the interview.” 

“Hmm… practice.” A crinkle forms between Jeongguk’s brows, lost in thought. 

“I have to admit that I don’t have a lot of experience with dating, and that’s why we have to practice.” You shake your head, flustered. “Actually, I’ve never even been in a relationship.” 

“Why’s that?” He asks the age-old question. 

“I’m not really the type that people fall for.” You tuck your head between your shoulders, offering a shrug. “I’m quiet ー Not really good with people. I’m a bit of a late bloomer. I spent a lot of my youth taking care of my younger brother.” That’s only the jist of it. You don’t bother getting into the nitty gritty details. Being a full-time assassin isn’t necessarily “first-date appropriate” conversation. 

“How many partners have you had?” You bounce back, diverting the attention away from you. 

“Just one, my wife who passed. We had been together since we were in high school.” The lie seeps through his teeth so easily. It’s terrifying. But the less you know, the better. 

The thought of being Jeongguk’s first “girlfriend” since the passing of his wife makes you incredibly nervous. Upon seeing the sullen avoidance in his eyes, you don’t bring it up again. Instead, you try to lighten the mood.

The two of you fall into a routine of volleying questions back and forth. If you’re planning to convince everyone that you’re husband and wife, you’re going to have to know more than just one another’s (supposed) names and (supposed) professions. 

You start with the easy stuff. “Where did you grow up?” 

“Busan. I miss the sound of the ocean, but I don’t mind the city as long as Minny goes to the best school in the country. What about you?” 

“I grew up in a town so small you wouldn’t be able to find it on the map, but it’s not far from the capital.”

“Cryptic, I like it.” A grin forms onto the corners of lips before he takes a sip of his coffee. 

Over the next hour, you learn that Jeongguk, as robust and intimidating as he looks, is warm and gentle. His favorite thing about being a father is having someone to love and protect. To him, Minji is a bundle of joy who makes his day brighter despite the hurdles that come with being a parent. He would do anything in the world to give his child the life he never quite had. 

Likewise, having lost his parents at a young age, he learned to lead a fulfilling life all on his own. Instead of letting it bog him down, he clings onto the simple things for respite, searching for happiness in every corner of the universe. 

He loves the rain and how it fleetingly smells like the warm and muggy summers of his hometown. Although he doesn’t experience the monsoon season quite like he used to, he loves to watch Minji splash around in her yellow rain boots. His favorite time of day is golden hour, especially when the fluffy white clouds are tinted with orange hues, reminding him of his first dog, Gureum. 

Jeongguk has a slight addiction to black coffee, even if it makes his stomach hurt on the odd occasions (and you suggest he tries tea instead). He likes his eggs scrambled, and he prefers waffles over pancakes. He has plenty of awful habits like singing karaoke at four in the morning followed by cooking a pot of instant ramen to satiate his brutal cravings (yes, his food preferences are vital to your understanding of who Jeongguk is as a person, down to his core). 

He tells you about his trip to Chicago some months ago where he definitely deepthroated a deep dish pizza after being dared by Seokjin. As much as he loved traveling, he was easily home-sick and desperately missing his fix of samgyeopsal. In fact, he tells you he would love to invite you over one day so he can make you a meal. And thank God for that because you are not handy in the kitchen whatsoever. 

You learn that not necessarily all of his tattoos have meaning. The tiger is an emblem of his country while the tiger lily is his birth flower, and it is a silent, desperate plea to be loved. There’s a silly emoji on his middle finger just because he thinks it’s funny. He hates having to cover it up when he goes to work (tattoos may not have been the smartest idea knowing that he has to keep his identity a secret, but the damage is already done), and he’s certain that everybody judges him for the ink on his arms. 

“As long as you like your tattoos, it doesn’t matter what anyone else thinks.” You offer him a warm smile as though nothing could ever hurt him. God, how he wishes that was true. 

For some reason, Jeongguk doesn’t know how to react to your words. He’s only ever been told to cover up his skin as if he has something to be ashamed of.  

In exchange for his stories, you trade Jeongguk pieces of your life. How your favorite memory from youth was when you had taken the city bus an hour and a half down to the beach with your brother, San, where you’d build sand castles on the brink of collapse. Sometimes, the smell of salt air and the longing for August still lingers to this day. 

You tell him about your attempt at joining the knitting club so you could make cute sweaters and vests. They were never perfect. But at least they kept your brother warm during the winters. Besides, you had fun playing dress-up with him. Jeongguk finds that perhaps the boldest thing you’ve ever done is bleach your hair strawberry blonde, only for it to turn out orange. 

His laughter blooms through his chest when you tell him about the time you almost set the microwave on fire. Your mom never told you that aluminum foil doesn’t belong in there, and you had to learn that the hard way. That’s probably why you should never set foot in the kitchen again. Nevertheless, you made mistake after mistake just so that San could have food on the table everyday after school. At least you’ve perfected the art of cutting fruit at this point ー no cooking skills required. 

Although the two of you talk for what seems like hours, you can’t help but think there’s so much more to this man, and he’s unwilling to share. It doesn’t necessarily bother you because you, too, have secrets of your own. You can’t expect him to reveal everything about his life, even if he never does. 

It’s well into the evening when Jeongguk walks you home. The path is quiet. It’s illuminated by the dim light of the street lamps. It feels like a scene from a movie you’ve once watched ー the origin of all your teenage fantasies. But this is real. You’re just a girl, standing in front of a boy, and that’s where it all begins. 

“y/n?” The way he says your name brings you to a halt. His voice, although usually confident, is timid and uncertain. “I’ll see you tomorrow, right? We still have a lot to talk about.” He looks at you with stars in his eyes, although none of them belong to you, and they could never be yours. 

Your lips press together in a tight line, nodding your head in affirmation. As you bid your goodbyes, you wonder if it would be inappropriate to give him a hug. After all, you’ve only just met the day prior, and this is nothing but pretend. Yet how will you ever grow accustomed to the touch of your husband?

Your arms remain crossed over your chest. You look down at your shoes, kicking a loose pebble at the front of your door, contemplating. 

But he reaches for your hand, lightly grasping around your fingers. You jolt back as if he set your nerves aflame. Your gaze lifts toward his eyes, but it quickly lowers as Jeongguk descends down to one knee. 

Your heart pounds against your chest, and you pray that he cannot hear it. 

“I’m sorry I don’t have a proper ring…” He begins. “I hope you can accept this for now, and I swear I’ll get a diamond on your hand one day ー As big as you want.” 

Jeongguk carefully pulls a small metal band from his pocket. It can easily be confused for the end piece of a keychain ー perhaps it’s something that his daughter had left behind in his coat, never to be remembered. But for Jeongguk, he knows perfectly well that it’s the pin from a grenade he had tossed the week prior on an escape mission. He slides the ring onto your finger, and although it is slightly too large, you wouldn’t have it any other way. 

“I may not have been your first choice of a partner, and for all I know, I could have been dead last, but thank you for sticking by me. I swear I’ll take care of you. I’ll hold your heart with gentle hands, and I won’t ever let it break.” 

After all, this is just pretend. 

But for some reason, his voice sounds so earnest, and you almost believe him. To be frank, you never really cared about lavish weddings and seven carat diamonds. If you were to ever look for a companion, all you could ask for is an honest partner. 

Too bad Jeon Jeongguk is anything but that.

Throughout the next week, you spend more and more time getting to know your new “boyfriend.” Because of this, you have to put your side hustle on pause and constantly decline assignments on your burner phone. You certainly wouldn’t want Jeongguk to overhear your plans to murder while he sits pretty beside you, waiting to hear about your day ー your hopes, your dreams, and anything else that’s on your mind. But it would be a shame if you cut your dates early, only to spend less than a second to put a bullet through your enemies’ heads.

You’d have much more fun with Jeongguk instead. Because he tends to plan the cutest surprise dates, and they’re so incredibly thoughtful. Sometimes, Minji would accompany your dates when Seokjin can’t babysit (he’s too busy trying to find his own baby mama so he can prove Minji wrong). Nevertheless, Minji adores the time that you spend together because it feels like you’re a real family.

The three of you would drive to the movies, play boardgames, and eat ice cream for dinner. Jeongguk had even taken you both to the annual carnival that you desperately wanted to check out. He wasn’t fond of going because those claw machines and arcade games are absolute scams! Yet you caught the smug grin on his face when he finally won a stuffed bunny after downing fifty bucks. He was just so addicted to the thrill of nearly winning: “I could have gotten that!” 

During your dates, you would laugh for hours on end, but by the end of the night, Minji would fall asleep on her father’s shoulder. That’s usually your cue to head home. Sometimes, you think that he might kiss you goodnight, but he never does. His lips only ever brush your knuckles like the gentleman that he is. 

…

True to his word, Jeongguk invites you over for dinner the following Friday.

When you arrive at his apartment, you are instantly the worst houseguest known to mankind. Your umbrella is dripping wet from the pouring rain, effectively ruining Jeongguk’s wooden floors. However, that’s not the problem that Jeongguk has with you. The problem is that you’re unable to stop laughing at Jeongguk’s attire. 

Surely, your parents had taught you to be kind, especially to your hosts. Well, when Jeongguk swings the door open, revealing a frilly apron, something akin to what your grandmother would wear, you couldn’t help it! A picture of My Melody is stamped onto the chest, staring straight into your soul. 

It isn’t lost on you ー the irony of a big, strong man, no doubt subjected to dress up in his daughter’s choice of clothing. 

“Don’t laugh at me,” Jeongguk pouts, tilting his head like a puppy. 

You stifle your giggle behind a tight lipped smile, but you’re so close to bursting at the seams. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

After placing your shoes at the door, Jeongguk leads you into his humble abode. He takes the bottle of chardonnay from your hands, thanking you for the gift, and places it onto the dining table. 

“Dinner should be ready in an hour,” he informs you. 

“I know I’m not very useful in the kitchen, but if you need help-” 

Before you can even think about lifting a finger, Jeongguk is quick to suggest an alternative. “No, don't worry, you’re my guest. Just relax, okay? Minny is in the living room. You should spend time with her.” 

In the adjacent room, Minji is crouched over her study material. Her worksheets spread across the coffee table. Each question covers a different subject: basic biology, political science, religion and ethics, foreign language, etc. You never quite realized how much pressure children face in the education system. 

After all, you were never really concerned with grades. You never thought about applying to the top school in the nation. In fact, your grades had fallen down a slippery slope by the time you were in high school. Rather, all of your time was dedicated to earning money and supporting your family. 

When you sit beside Minji, she beckons you closer before you can even greet her. “I’m dying. Help me,” she pleads with wide eyes. You look down to see her math homework ー fractions, Minji’s sworn enemy. 

“Appa wants me to study, but he won’t give me the answers,” Minji whines. 

You can’t help but chuckle. “Minny, you have to figure out the answers on your own if you want to do well.”

The sound of your advice makes her drop her head on the table with a soft thump. 

“Here, let’s do a few questions together,” you suggest. 

Try as you might, you only manage to complete half of the assignment. Minji huffs, slightly frustrated when she doesn’t understand the concept. 

You pat her back, consoling the small child. “Once you eat dinner, you’ll have more brain energy. Maybe you just need a break.” 

A lightbulb goes off above her head, and she springs to her feet. “Appa! Can I give eomma a tour of the house?” 

You tilt your head, amused by the sound of Minji calling you her mother. 

“That sounds like a great idea!” Jeongguk cranes his neck to peek at his devious daughter. “Just make sure you study again when you’re done.” 

Minji takes her father’s approval as a cue to grab your hand in hers, showing you every corner of the house ー all of her drawings taped to the fridge, her favorite stuffed animals lined up at the end of the bed, and the sparkly clean toilet where she poops every morning. After describing everything in excruciating detail, you could have sworn that Minji would run out of words to say. But she never does. 

“What’s behind that door?” You point to the end of the hall. 

“That’s appa’s bedroom. He told me I should never go in there unless he gives me permission.” 

You suppose it’s healthy to set boundaries between you and your child. It’s not like Jeongguk has distasteful art hanging on his walls, and it’s not likely that he’s hiding a dead body in there. He doesn’t seem to be the type to store skeletons in the closet. You, on the other hand, now that’s a different story. Perhaps Jeongguk just needs a little privacy at the end of every night. 

Minji’s voice breaks you out of your reverie. “Eomma! This is your room! Well, it’s a guest room, but appa says it’s basically yours if you ever want a place to stay.” 

You step into the final room, glancing around the walls at a loss of words. Your eyes are drawn to the shelves. They’re brimming with so many novels. It’s like your own personal library. You could probably spend the entire day just browsing through each book. 

As you slide open one of the drawers, you’re surprised to find an array of period products. There are also makeup wipes, an abundance of face masks, some sunscreen, and essential oils (apparently, women love that sort of stuff according to an article Jeongguk had bookmarked). There’s even a candle that’s labeled ‘ocean breeze.’

“Do you like it?” Minji looks up at you with wide, glimmering eyes as she uncaps the candle, shoving her entire nose against the wax with a hard whiff. 

“I love it, Minny, thank you for the tour. I really appreciate it. You should get back to your studies. I’ll help your dad with dinner, but if you need my help, just call me, okay?” 

Minji sniffles theatrically and drags her feet into the living room. 

You head towards the kitchen to find Jeongguk slicing a daikon radish with military precision. There’s soft music playing in the background, accompanied by the pouring rain outside, occasionally interrupted by the soft huff of frustration when Jeongguk’s bangs cover his eyes. The sleeves of his shirt are rolled up to his elbows, revealing his strong forearms covered in tattoos. 

Jeongguk finally looks up at you in the doorway. He flashes you a smile ー delighted, and very much enamored. “How was the tour?” 

“Your home is so cozy. But I don’t know if I was supposed to look at the top secret file you forgot to put away.” 

“I- WHAT?” He yelps. The shock on his face is quickly replaced with an acute pain. The knife had sliced through his palm upon one careless motion. 

“Oh, fuck,” he mutters under his breath, ensuring that Minji won’t hear his foul language.

Jeongguk drops the radish onto the cutting board with a thud. He forces pressure onto the wound with the pad of his thumb to stop the bleeding. In actuality, he’s more concerned about the food than he is about his finger. 

“Oh my god, are you okay?” You rush over to his side, reaching for his wrist. “Let’s run it under cold water.” 

The two of you waddle towards the small sink, attached by the hip. 

“I was kidding about the secret files. I’m sorry about the cut.” You’re ridden with guilt, seeing that your mindless joke had cost Jeongguk his hand. 

“No, no, you don’t have to apologize. It was my fault. I was the one holding the knife.” 

You shake your head. “Don’t blame yourself either. It happens. I get cuts all the time.” If there’s ever a blade against your skin, it’s usually by the hands of your enemies. You, on the other hand, are a pro when it comes to handling knives. 

Jeongguk shuts the faucet off, examining the cut. It’s shallow. You could hardly see it.

“I’ll grab a bandaid for you,” you offer, already sprinting down the hallway. 

“They’re in the bathroom! Medicine cabinet!” Jeongguk shouts. 

“I know! Minny gave me a tour of everything,” you shout back. You pluck the ointment and the familiar Hello Kitty bandages off the shelf before shuffling back to the kitchen. “Minny shared way too much information about the inventory of your medicine cabinet. Apparently, you have two morphine capsules left. You should get a refill on those.” 

Jeongguk hums in recognition, and you wonder why he would need a painkiller as strong as morphine. 

Taking Jeongguk’s hand in yours, you assess the cut and gently blow on the appendages with the purse of your lips. You place the pink bandage onto his hand, and out of habit, you give him a quick kiss on the booboo. 

When you pull back, you’re absolutely mortified. You avoid his gaze, trying to hide your own humiliation. “I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to do that. The kids at the daycare always ask for a kiss when they’re injured.”

“It’s okay, I understand.” A rosy hue dusts over Jeongguk’s cheeks. Why is he so shy when he’s usually the bold and courageous one? He’ll be sure to call Seokjin tonight to ask what this means ー to be so flustered and afflicted by your touch. Is his skin supposed to feel like it’s on fire? 

With the look on his face, you’re not quite sure who’s more embarrassed. So you run towards the sink and nervously wash your hands, practically rubbing the skin raw. 

“I’ll cut the radish for you.” You take his place by the cutting board. 

When he asks if you’re sure, you just hum in response, having already started, and he succumbs to your offer. Typically, Jeongguk would not be willing to accept anyone’s help. But there’s warmth and sincerity in your tone.

“Let me tie this for you.” Jeongguk steps behind you, lightly brushing your hair back to keep it out of your eyes. 

Heat rushes to your face, and you nod in agreement. Instantly, Jeongguk separates your hair into three different strands.

“You know how to braid?” you ask, chopping away at the radish. “You can just tie a simple ponytail if you want.” 

“Minny said she wanted to go to school with a French braid. I didn’t know how to do it, so I looked at a video online. I’m not that good, but let me practice, okay?” He ties off your hair with the elastic that he keeps on his wrist for standby. “Tadaaa!” A proud grin sits on his pretty lips. 

You can tell that the braid is a little too loose for your liking, but you’ll be sure to show him how to properly braid later. Perhaps after dinner. “How does it look?” You wonder. 

“You’re perfect,” Jeongguk says affirmatively, sweet as ever. “Here, let me give you an apron.” 

Before you know it, he loops a string of fabric over your head. It sits loosely on the back of your neck. Jeongguk’s hand rests on your shoulder blade, pushing your hips against the counter as he reaches to tie the string around the small of your back. He fixates on the knot that tethers around his thick fingers as he works on the fabric. His breath is hot against your neck. You can feel the heat radiate off of him. 

When he pulls back, you swallow the lump in your throat, sighing a breath of relief. “Thanks,” you murmur. 

The worst part is that Jeongguk doesn’t even realize the effect that he has on you. You wonder when he’ll put an end to this madness. Because at this rate, you think you might explode if he inches any closer to you. 

As it seems, fate has other plans. 

While he watches you cook, he hovers behind you; not because he’s controlling, but because he wants to make sure you’re safe. He has to admit that you’re skilled with a knife, but your cooking techniques aren’t quite there. 

“When you cut, curl your fingers and tuck your knuckles underneath them.” Jeongguk inches closer and places his chin on the crown of your head. He slots himself against your back as his protective arms cage you against the marble counter. His hands slide down from your wrist, careful not to startle you, before cupping them around your fingers. He gently guides your hand, ensuring that you don’t cut yourself. 

You don’t realize that you’ve been holding your breath until he steps away. Maybe cooking isn’t as bad as you make it out to be.

The heavy downpour of rain patters against the windows. 

“It looks like the weather is getting worse. I didn’t realize it would storm tonight,” Jeongguk peeks between the blinds before lighting a few candles. The lamps had been flickering because of the torrential rain. “The roads aren’t very safe. If you want to stay over, you can take the guest room.” 

You nearly drop the cutlery on the table in the midst of setting up dinner. “Ar- are you sure? I don’t want to be a bother.” 

“Stop with that, you’re never a bother,” he reassures you. “If you want, I’ll drive you home first thing tomorrow morning.” 

You think about the invitation before ultimately deciding to accept. “Thank you, Jeongguk. And by the way, I really appreciate how you set the room up for me.” You shoot him a grateful smile. 

“Anything for my wife.” The warmth of his words makes your heart flutter. 

When the table is finally set, the three of you settle down for dinner. 

You bite the inside of your cheek as you stare at the beautiful arrangement of food you have yet to touch. There’s tender pork belly, fermented shrimp, spicy oyster radish, fresh garlic, and pickled cabbage among a bunch of other side dishes you can’t even put a name to. 

“You said you were hungry, right?” Jeongguk picks up the cabbage leaf and stuffs the ingredients inside. He wraps it into a roll and places it on top of your fluffy white rice. 

Watching the steam rise in front of you, you nearly bawl from how delicious it smells. The tears threaten to spill from the corners of your eyes. 

Nobody has ever made you a home-cooked meal since your parents had passed. 

“Are you- uhm,” Jeongguk lifts his hand, not knowing what to do with his own limbs. A set of chopsticks rests between his thumb and pointer finger, fish cake tucked between the silver metal. It hovers halfway across the table, abruptly stopping before he could reach your bowl. “You can cry, it’s okay-” 

You don’t dare to move a single muscle when the tear falls down your cheeks. 

Minji reaches over to wipe the droplet away. You can’t tell if she wants to comfort you, or rather, she’s just looking to steal a bite of your pork belly. But you’re inclined to believe it’s the former. Her father had already served a piece of meat in her bowl. 

“It’s okay, eomma. You can cry. Just… don’t do it over the dishes. You don’t want your food to be salty,” Minji advises. 

Jeongguk calls his daughter’s name, scolding. He plucks out a few tissues from the box and passes them across the table. 

You wipe your eyes, praying that the tears will stop. “I’m sorry, I’m fine,” you shake your head. “I just don’t really remember the last time I had a home-cooked meal with anyone other than myself. I think my parents were the last people to ever cook for me.” 

“What about your brother?” Jeongguk inquires. 

“I’ve always made food for him growing up, and ever since he went to university, he’s been away from home. I really haven’t seen him in a while.” A sullen smile tugs on your lips. “We usually just talk on the phone.” 

Jeongguk topples more food onto your bowl, filling it to the brim. “Whenever you come over, you can have any kind of food that you want. Just name it, and it’ll be yours. Even if I don’t know how to make it, I’ll learn. Now let’s eat up, okay?” He picks up a piece of pork belly, prepared to bribe you like a child who hasn’t stopped crying. 

You open your mouth, allowing him to feed you, humming in satisfaction. You mutter a thank you before putting on your bravest smile as the rain pours outside. 

It’s late in the night when you hear a soft sniffle that echoes from the other side of the bedroom door, followed by a dull strike against the wooden surface, a call for your attention.

“Eomma?”

It never takes you by surprise when a child who isn’t yours calls you their mother. It happens often enough at the daycare center. Tiny humans let the term of endearment slip from their loose lips ー some variation of “mom,” “mommy,” or “eomma.” 

These children cry for you when they have trouble opening their chocolate milk, or when they get a “booboo” from their arts and crafts activity, nothing but a measly, barely-there papercut. These children have an understanding that they’re safe with you. That you’d take care of them like a mother would, opening their bottles, helping to clean their mess, kissing their pain away, and wiping the tears dry. Sometimes they don’t notice their honest mistake, having called you their mother. Other times, they’re apologetic and embarrassed. But what’s there to be embarrassed about? 

The vocabulary of children is limited to only a few hundred words, but they always resort to the one thing they know. Whether it is, “mom,” “mommy,” “eomma,” or so on and so forth, they trust you in the purest form. They feel protected and comforted by you. 

Although you’ve heard it a dozen times before, you’ve never seen a child mean it so earnestly, not like Minji, and definitely not at two in the morning. 

You open the bedroom door, looking down to see her tear stained cheeks. The instinct to protect kicks in like second nature. “Minny, what’s wrong?” 

Lightning flashes through the sky, followed by a loud crash of thunder. The little girl flinches with a yelp, squeezing her eyes shut, pressing her hands against her ears. 

“It’s so loud, ‘m scared,” Minji pouts. 

You crouch down to wrap your arms around her shoulders, whispering sweet nothings into her ear. She shivers in your hold, trying to calm down as you rub soothing circles onto her back. 

“Don’t worry, Minny. The thunder can’t catch you while you’re in here,” you murmur, adjusting the nightcap on the top of her head. “You’re always safe with me.” 

“Can I sleep with you and appa tonight?” Minji asks. 

“Th- the both of us?” Your eyes widen. Perhaps Minji doesn’t quite understand the terms of your arrangement. You’re not actually her mom, and Jeongguk isn’t really your husband. Certainly, sleeping in the same bed as Jeongguk crosses some imaginary boundary. “I- I don’t know if appa would-” 

“Can we ask him?” Minji pleads, and she looks like she’s about to burst. It doesn’t hurt to try, right?

So you relent, and the two of you tiptoe down the hall to Jeongguk’s bedroom, hand-in-hand. There’s a light that leaks from the bottom of the doorway. Could he possibly be awake this late in the night? 

You motion at the door, encouraging Minji to knock. She has to be a big girl, expressing her needs, asking for help when she needs it. 

“Appa!” Minji whacks the palm of her hand against the wooden surface, and you have to correct her form. You squeeze her hands into a fist, showing her how to properly knock and urge her to try again. 

On the other side, you can hear the shuffle of papers and the sound of wheels scraping against the linoleum floor, followed by the pad of footsteps. The door swings open, revealing a set of sleepy eyes, shrouded behind a pair of glasses. Jeongguk’s hair is disheveled, having run his hands through his overgrown mane a million times (he’s been pondering whether he should cut it, but you’ve shyly expressed how he looks handsome either way, and right now is no exception). 

“Appa, can I sleep with the both of you tonight?” Minji hiccups between sniffles, and a tear treads down her cheek. When a crash of thunder sounds through the air, she lurches forward to wrap her arms around her father’s legs, shaking like a leaf.

Jeongguk pats the top of Minji’s head to comfort her. “What’s wrong? What happened?” 

“The sky,” Minji shakes her head, pressing her face deeper into her father’s thigh. “Too loud. It’s scary. Wanna sleep with you and eomma.” 

Normally, Jeongguk would be stressed, weighing his options, trying to determine the best course of action for his child. But there’s a sigh of relief that slips from his lips when his gaze meets yours. There’s a deep blush that spreads across his cheeks. “Is this okay with you?” His lips move in silence, mouthing the words, only for you to see.

In response, you nod your head and flash him a concerned smile. “You?” You mouth the words right back. 

Jeongguk’s answer is obvious when he wraps his arms around the little girl and lifts her into the air. “Let’s go to sleep, Minny.”

Jeongguk taps his chin, pondering, as he stares at the little girl sandwiched in the center of his bed. “Something doesn’t feel right.” But there’s an unmistakable glimmer in his eyes. As tired as he is, he doesn’t seem to let it show. “You know what we should do?” 

Before you can respond, he’s already darting out of the bedroom. He stumbles into the living area, grabbing all the mismatched furniture that he can find. There’s a coat rack in one hand and a stool in another. He runs to grab a fishing pole from the closet, one that he had stolen from Seokjin and never returned. 

“What’re you doing?” Your brows furrow, confused. But the smile on your face tells him that you’re thoroughly entertained. 

“We’re building a fort! Come help me!” He takes hold of your hand and leads you into the living room. “Here, take as many pillows as you can.” Instantly, he holds out a stack of cushions. And who are you to say no? 

With your inventory in hand, you run back to Jeongguk’s bedroom and plop them down onto the bed. “Minny, put the pillows wherever you want! Make it comfy for yourself.” 

The three of you get to work, constructing a pillow fort, and suddenly, you’re five years old all over again. 

Jeongguk returns with spare bed sheets and throw-blankets, tenting them over the makeshift poles. When you’re finally satisfied with your fort, the two of you climb onto the mattress on either side of Minji, huffing and puffing from all the energy exerted. 

“That was fun,” you say, exasperated. A beat of silence passes by as you catch your breath. “Thank you again for letting me sleep over, by the way.” 

There’s fondness in Jeongguk’s eyes as he turns to look at you. “I hope you know that you can stay as long as you want, and you’re always welcomed whenever.” His sentiment makes your heart beat a little faster. “I told you I’d take care of you.” 

“You should know…” As you stare at the roof of the makeshift fort, you try to make sense of how you ended up here. It doesn’t feel real. It doesn’t feel like you deserve it. “Taking care of me is more trouble than it’s worth.” 

Jeongguk’s voice is stern and relentless. “It’s not trouble. Not if it’s you. Do you really think I scare so easily?” 

You think you might cry, but you’ve already used up more than enough tears from your daily allowance. So you turn to thank him, only to be met with Jeongguk’s half-lidded eyes. He only hums in response ー there’s no need to thank him. 

His face is illuminated by the faint glow of the desk lamp on the other side of the room, the one he abandoned in favor of lulling his precious daughter to sleep. Minji holds her father’s hand while you stroke her hair. Within a few short minutes, she’s sound-asleep. The room is quiet, save for her soft snores. 

“Poor Minny, I hope that this doesn’t ruin her sleep schedule,” you whisper into the night. 

“She might need a nap tomorrow, but that’s okay. It happens sometimes.” Jeongguk lets out a yawn as he tugs the blankets up his shoulders. 

You remind him with gentle caution, “What about you? You shouldn’t sleep so late.” 

“I know, I know.” He presses his palms against his eyes, utterly exhausted. “I just wanted to squeeze one more chapter in.” 

You peek out from the gap in the fort, scanning the mess that lies on top of Jeongguk’s desk. Books are stacked across two different piles, separated by genre ー One of them being social psychology books required for his research; “How to Win Friends and Influence People” sits on the very top. 

Another stack is dedicated to the parenting books he often checks out from the library. There are Hello Kitty post-it notes that fill up nearly every page, bookmarked for future reference. 

Your eyes return to Jeongguk’s figure, convinced that you can steal a glance, evaluating his exhausted state. But he already has his eyes trained on you, albeit very groggy. A dopey grin stretches across his lips. If he wasn’t already tired before, he definitely is now. 

“You don’t have to do all this alone, Jeongguk. You need to rest.” You flash him a matching smile, hoping that the sentiment reaches him. “I don’t think that you scare easily, but I don’t think you’re immune to it either. And that’s perfectly okay. We’re all just people trying to get by.” 

Jeongguk sinks deeper into the pillows, succumbing to his sleepy desires. “Thank you,” he murmurs, slurring his words. Another yawn slips from his lips. “I’m just used to it 一 being on my own.” 

“Well, you’re not on your own anymore. You can count on me. We’re a team, remember?” 

Jeongguk hums, reduced to non-verbal responses that don’t require much energy. Exhaustion tugs at his eyelids until they’re shut. He makes a mental note to talk about this with you another day. 

You wave a hand in front of his face, convinced that he’s far gone from the state of consciousness. “If it makes you feel better, I can head back to my room now,” you whisper. You think it might be futile to warn him, considering he’s not awake. But as you peel the blanket back, one foot off the bed, there’s a warmth that envelops your wrist, and you halt in your tracks. 

“Stay,” Jeongguk, as tired as he is, manages to mutter with conviction. 

His grip doesn’t falter, and so, you relent. You crawl back beneath the sheets and let the night fade into dawn. 

The sound of rain splashes against the window. The petrichor smells like childhood. It feels like home, and Jeongguk has never slept so soundlessly in his entire life. 

Somehow, Jeongguk wakes up long before you, and you want to curse him for looking so handsome at the crack of dawn. His hair, although disheveled, looks perfectly imperfect. His shirt, as loose as it is, hugs his body in all the right places, sweatpants hanging low on his hips. His round specs perch on the bridge of his nose. 

“What do you think about going on a family outing?” Jeongguk suggests over breakfast. 

Minji’s eyes widen as excitement fills her tiny frame.

“That sounds like a fun idea,” you chime. “We should spend more time together so we can be perfect for the interview.” Because loving this man and his daughter is nothing more than a performance, right? 

 “Maybe we can stop at the convenience store and have a picnic in the park. What do you think?” In Jeongguk’s mind, he maps the layout of the market, pinpointing the food that the three of you would enjoy: kimbap, dried squid, potato chips, banana milk, and even fish shaped ice cream. 

“The weather cleared up today. It’s beautiful outside.” You say, chowing down on a bite of strawberries. 

Jeongguk raises a brow, questioning. “You want to go today? I thought you would want to go home after spending the night.” 

“I don’t have much else planned on a Sunday. It gets kind of lonely at my house,” you shrug. “Are you sick of me already?” 

But Jeongguk shakes his head. He’d be foolish to ever push you away. 

…

In sync, both you and Minji enthusiastically bounce on your feet through the streets of Seoul. You could easily pass as a family from that simple action alone. It’s evident when elders cross paths with you, a fond smile sitting on their faces: “You have a beautiful family!” There’s no denying that. The three of you are picture perfect as you link hands on either side of Minji because she is, in fact, the center of your universe. 

When you arrive at the convenience store, Jeongguk picks out a variety of nutritious food while Minji tries to slip cookies into the basket. She’s convinced that her father is not looking because he’s too busy sneaking glances at you from the other end of the snack aisle. He doesn’t think anyone would notice, but Minji surely does. 

For some reason, he feels so content standing in a supermarket with his wife who picks the freshest fruit, and his daughter who tries to distract him from seeing the junk food in her hands. In fact, he could probably spend the entire day comparing vegetable prices, and he would still have the time of his life with you. He used to hate running errands, unless it was doing laundry. But now, he doesn’t seem to mind it. Perhaps it’s because he has two companions at his side, and it feels a little less lonely. 

“Jeongguk?” You call his name from down the aisle. “Do you want me to grab coffee for you?” You reach for the top shelf on your tippy toes, struggling to grip your hands around the bottle. 

Within an instant, Jeongguk is already at your side. He wraps an arm around your waist to prevent you from falling forward. A heat envelops your hand as he wraps his fingers around your palm. “I think I’ll skip on coffee for now. How about tea?” 

Upon hearing his deep voice against the shell of your ear, you grow flustered. The heat of his body makes you freeze, and all you can do is nod your head, stunned. He reaches one shelf over to pluck a large bottle of tea, one that you can all share. 

Although he’s dropped your hand, he keeps a strong arm around your waist. His shoulders are broad enough to simply devour you. Even his chest is so firm pressed against your back.

“By the way, angel, don’t you think we’ve moved on from the formalities?” There’s a pout that rests on his lips. “I’d like it if you could call me something other than Jeongguk. I think it’s more convincing that way.” 

“But that’s your name. What do you want me to call you? Babe? Baby?” 

He shakes his head as he rests his chin in the crook of your neck. His hair brushes against your cheek, and your breath hitches in your throat.

You stutter the words out of your mouth, trying to act unaffected. “H- how about darling? Honey? Sweetie? … Handsome?” 

He doesn’t react to either of them, but handsome definitely makes him giggle. 

You ponder for a moment more. “Then what about love?” 

His arm squeezes your waist a little tighter as he presses an innocent kiss to your cheek. “That’s perfect, angel.” 

He unravels himself from you as you stare blankly at the beverage aisle in complete awe. You brush your fingertips against your cheek where his warmth lingers. 

This is still practice… right? 

As you stroll through the park, you come across a live performance at the base of the fountain. There’s a man playing guitar, and he’s serenading the crowd as he busks for money. The three of you stand to admire just for a moment. 

A few feet away, Minji is spinning and dancing to the soft melody. Meanwhile, Jeongguk moves his head to the beat of the song, singing the words, albeit faintly. 

“You have a pretty voice.” You nudge your shoulders against his to catch his attention. 

“Oh, it’s nothing.” He’s bashful. 

“You should sing for me one day.” You raise your brows, trying to tempt him. 

He contemplates your request, but he teases you with a soft “maybe.” He bumps his shoulder against yours like a high schooler with a crush. 

You return the sentiment in a playful back and forth. His sweet action makes you squeal, but not for the reason that you think. Because the affectionate brush of skin against yours quickly transforms into Jeongguk hauling you into his arms. His thick biceps wrap beneath your thighs, and he lifts you into the air. You can’t stop yourself from giggling when he spins you around. There’s a combination of thrill and euphoria in your chest. 

Jeongguk’s mind briefly wanders back to the conversation he had with Minji right before he tucked her into bed last night. “Appa, do you have a crush on eomma?” 

He had scoffed at the question, brushing it off as if that was far from the truth. But Minji had thought otherwise. “When you have a crush on someone, you think about them all the time. You want them to be happy, and you would do anything to make them smile. Whenever you look at eomma, I can see your ears go red. I think you were shy when she kissed your booboo, and you probably want to kiss her back, right?” For some reason, Minji’s advice seemed to be more introspective than what he could ever pull out of Seokjin. 

Jeongguk shakes his head, returning back to reality as he tucks the memory away. When he places you on the ground, you pant with adrenaline. “I thought I was going to fall.” 

His gaze meets yours, and he playfully brushes his knuckles beneath your chin. The peak of sunset illuminates your eyes, and you look golden. An epiphany flashes through his mind, and Jeongguk mutters a curse that echoes through his thoughts. Fuck, fuck, fuck. He wants to kiss you. 

But as usual, Jeongguk’s mind wins over his heart. He bites his tongue back and offers the next best thing: “Do you think I’d ever let you fall?” He grabs your hands as if nothing had happened ー as if he isn’t falling in love ー and you sway to the beat of the music, skipping to the lawn where you can enjoy your picnic. 

…

The park is bustling with so many individuals going about their day, minding their own business. The city comes alive with all of the action that surrounds you. 

“Eomma, what’s that over there?” Minji points at an art display at the other end of the fountain. There’s a throng of people, crowding around the small space. The three of you pack up your meal, making sure to toss all of your garbage, before heading over to catch sight of the action. 

There are rows of copy paper attached to a fishing line. It strings across a makeshift perimeter, rooted with no rhyme or reason. Apparently, all the buzz is about an interactive exhibit. Anonymous letters from passersby are posted for you to view, and you may even contribute by submitting your own story. You could write about anything you want. 

“That sounds like a fun idea,” Jeongguk suggests. So he grabs paper and markers for the three of you as you get to work. 

Jeongguk tries to steal a glance at your story, but you throw your body over the paper. 

“Hey, no peeking!” you shout. “These stories are supposed to belong to strangers, okay? Let’s keep it anonymous.” 

On the other hand, Minji is enthusiastic to show her father the family portrait she’s drawn. 

As the minutes pass, you finish jotting your thoughts. It’s not perfect by any means, but the sentiment is still there. When all is said and done, you’ve agreed that you wouldn’t read one another’s stories. One day, you both will disclose the contents of your letter, and you will finally know the truth, but today is not that day. 

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Dear reader, If I’m being honest, I’ve always felt undesirable. Nobody has ever confessed their feelings for me. I’ve never been in a relationship, nor have I had my first kiss. I’ve never been stopped in the middle of the street, only to be told that I have a beautiful smile. I’ve always been average at best.  My friends are concerned that I’m lonely. They’re convinced that I need someone to take care of me, but I constantly tell them that I can do it on my own. I’ve done it my entire life.  I’ve held my own hand, swallowed the heartache, and reminded myself “I can do this!” before doing the scary things I never wanted to do. I patted myself on the back when I finished school, earned my first job, and paid all my overdue bills. I raised my younger brother at the age of eighteen as if I was a single mother. I woke up to an empty bed every single day and fed myself scraps of food, even when I didn’t want to. Sometimes, it was burnt, charred, and a little too salty. But that’s what love tastes like, right? Through the smooth sailing and the rough patches, there was no boyfriend, no girlfriend, no partner or lover. Just me. But the more that I think about it, I am so, so tired.  Perhaps I grew up too fast and burned too bright. Because now, I don’t know what to do. There’s a guy that I like, or at least I think I do. Nobody ever taught me how to sort out my feelings. I’ve always been told to give and give and give. I’ve had to sacrifice my life, my time, and all of my energy. I was never allowed to feel anger, sadness, or human connection. I never had anything for myself, and I feel empty.  But lately, being with him brings me to life.  Although I don’t know what it’s like to be in love, this is the closest thing I’ve ever felt to it. When I’m with him, my inner child wants to come out and play. That little girl has always lived in my imagination. I don’t know her very well, but she’s running around, laughing and dancing as if she knows no pain. With him, she is always reminded that she is beautiful and spectacular. That she is stronger than anyone he knows. She is safe. She is protected. Above all, she feels seen. She gets ice cream for dinner, and it’s sweet. It doesn’t quite taste like the love she once knew, but somehow, she thinks it’s even more delicious.  Surely, yes, I can take care of myself. But maybe we can learn to take care of each other. 

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Hi. I don’t know who cares to read this, but if you do, welcome.  Where do I even begin? I know this sounds pathetic, but… I don’t think anyone has ever truly understood me for who I am. Perhaps that’s my fault. I constantly reinvent myself to be the person that they want me to be. Society has so many expectations as to how I should look, how I should act, and how I should feel.  Let me paint you a picture. I’m big ー horribly buff. I have tattoos and long hair. All the neighborhood grandmas tell me I should cut it because I’d be more handsome. They even tell their grandchildren not to look up to me because I’m far from being an aspiration. Even if I’m the most charming person in the room… if I change my appearance ー if I lose weight, cover my tattoos, and buzz off my hair, they’d find another reason to hate me. It’ll never be enough. They’ll always perceive me as the bad guy and villainize me for everything I do. They say it’s better to be feared than to be loved if I cannot be both. But… I think I want to be loved. I want to be loved so bad that I would do anything to make people look at me. Yet they all shove their unwanted opinions down my throat, and I have nothing left to swallow but my own pride. I have no choice but to be exactly what they want.  Most people assume that I’m indestructible. Fortified. That I don’t have a single worry in this world. They think that I can shoulder all of these burdens, and nothing could possibly hurt me. Supposedly, I don’t ever cry ー I never break or bend or shatter because showing emotion is a sign that I’ve already lost.  But it’s not true.  I’m softer than I look. I worry that I’m not good enough. I feel like I suck at my job, and I constantly make mistakes. I don’t know how to be a good father, but I try.  I don’t really know what I want to say. I just wish that people didn’t feel entitled to my body. My body is my own except when it isn’t. It happens more often than not. Maybe then, I could finally be myself, whoever that may be.  It sounds like my life is awful, but I promise it isn’t that bad. Recently, I’ve found a small glimmer of hope. There’s one person who accepts me for who I am. She doesn’t expect me to be anyone but myself. She looks at me like I’m human ー as if I’m someone who’s worth it. Like I’m more than just an idea. She showed me that there’s kindness in this world ー that there’s bravery in being soft. She sees me, and scary enough, I think she can even see right through me. I’ve told her so many vulnerable things about myself, and she could probably stab me in the back with all that she knows. I think it would be worth it though.  There’s still so much I have to tell her. She may not know the whole truth, but one day, she will. I hope she doesn’t leave me when she finds out. Until then, I will take care of her. I will keep her safe and protect her with every inch of my life. I promise.

By the end of the week, you and Jeongguk have amped yourselves up for Yumi’s engagement party. But there’s one problem. 

Jeongguk is late. 

He’s never late. When he needs to pick up his daughter from school, he always shows up thirty minutes before dismissal. On date nights, he knocks on your door while you’re in the midst of putting on makeup, and he gladly watches you doll yourself up for the entire hour. For Jeongguk to be late, something must be terribly wrong. 

The two of you had agreed to meet up at Yumi’s party seeing that Jeongguk was running behind from work. But where could he possibly be when you need him the most? 

Outside of Yumi’s apartment complex, you pace anxiously, twiddling with the engagement present in your hands ー a cast iron skillet that you and Jeongguk had both bought at the department store. From the sidewalk, you can hear the sound of music streaming from the open windows. Endless chatter filters between each beat. You glance at your watch for what feels like the hundredth time. 

“Jeongguk, where are you?” You groan, ready to accept defeat. 

A nervous sigh falls from your lips. Your shoulders slump. If you have to wait any longer, you might just head into the party all on your own and lose face in front of your friends. 

Suddenly, you hear the echo of your name from down the street. Jeongguk is sprinting towards you. He’s a blur of motion. Before you realize it, the air is knocked out of your lungs. Jeongguk had overestimated his speed, missed his landing, and he is colliding into you with open arms. 

“Angel, I’m so sorry I’m late.” He tucks his head against your shoulder, panting. His cheeks are hot, and his hair is disheveled. He murmurs apologies against your skin. The scratch of his voice etches a frown onto your face. 

Between the two of you, Jeongguk is the more composed one. You’ve always known him to be calm, collected, a little silly, but lovely nevertheless. You’ve never seen him quite like this. He’s shaking. 

You squeeze his shoulders in an attempt to peel his body away from yours. But his arms wrap around your waist even tighter, unwilling to part ways. This scene is rather familiar, something akin to a little child seeking comfort. You pat his back, hushing him, as to tell him that everything will be okay. 

So you start counting to ten, reminding him to breathe in and out. You place your hand on his chest, strong and reliable, right over the beat of his heart. His eyes close, concentrating all of his energy on the blooming feeling inside of his ribcage. So you paint a pretty picture for him as you dwell in a little puddle of grief together. 

“My mom used to tell me that if you transport yourself to a happy place, then all your worries will melt away.” 

Jeongguk doesn’t respond, but he hums against your collarbone. He wants nothing more but to hear you talk. He loves the sound of your voice. What is your happy place? 

“These days, I picture myself with you in your house. We’re baking a cake with Minny, and it’s going terribly wrong.” You let out a chuckle, and it’s the sweetest thing Jeongguk has ever heard. “Well, actually, the taste is perfect. You’re the head chef after all, and you’re so talented. You know better than me.” 

You interrupt your own story with something that will definitely make him laugh. “Did you know that I’ve been borrowing cookbooks from the library? I know it sounds ridiculous. I want to get better so you don’t have to cook all the time. It’d be such a shame if I accidentally poisoned you and the cops would swarm in, charging me with second degree murder.” You can feel his smile against your neck. “I found a recipe for buckwheat noodles, and maybe we should try it out next weekend.” 

He nods against your neck, sniffling. He doesn’t want to break it to you, but all you need is a boiling pot of water to cook the noodles. 

“Well anyways, in my happy place, the kitchen is a disaster because there’s icing everywhere. Sprinkles are in your hair. I think I have flour in my bra and butter on my cheek. But we’re having fun, singing along to the radio with all of the wrong lyrics. I’d ask you to dance, and when you’re too scared of looking stupid, Minny would pull out a dance move that’s even sillier than what you could ever imagine. Because even if we can’t do it perfectly, whether it is cooking or dancing or singing, we’re still trying.”

There’s a wet tear that falls onto your collarbone. You trace a circle against Jeongguk’s chest, reminding him to concentrate all of his feelings right there. His shoulders relax and his breath evens out. 

“When we’re in our happy place, we never go hungry. So if you ever feel sad or anxious, then just meet me right here. I’ll bring the cake ー sorry, just the ingredients, actually, but I’ll get better at cooking. I swear! Minny will bring her cute attitude. And you can just bring yourself.” 

There’s a soft breeze that surrounds you. The moonlight conspires with the flight of the fireflies, illuminating the dim sidewalk. The party is long forgotten as you hold onto Jeongguk for just another moment. Reluctantly, he steps back with his head down. His eyes train on the pavement.

“How do you feel, love? Look at me.” You cup his cheeks, and he leans into your touch, nuzzling into your embrace. 

After taking a deep sigh, he lifts his head to reveal a bruised cheek and a gash above his eye, right on the brow bone. The blood runs dry. 

Shock runs through your body. “What happened? Did someone hurt you?” You gently  move his head from side to side, examining every inch of his skin to check for more injuries. But your eyes are frantic. Your hands run through his hair, feeling for bumps and bruises. The search comes up empty, but your throat constricts at the thought of someone hurting your husband. 

You grab the cast iron skillet, wielding it like a weapon with the force of a grip so tight that it threatens to bend beneath your fingers. Your other hand clenches his palm, stomping in the direction he came from so he could lead you towards the perpetrator. 

Whoever did this to Jeongguk is going to pay, and you’re willing to kill whoever it is. Because for him, you would wage a full on war, running straight into your demise if it meant fighting for him. You would barrel through fire, load your rifles, and draw your daggers no matter what it takes. If they ask you to rip your heart out and put it in his hands, you would have considered the deal done long ago. 

Jeongguk is quick to extinguish the fiery passion that fuels your anger, reminding you to not make any rash decisions. The flash of his doe eyes is enough to soothe your worries, and all you want to do is hold him. 

The truth is, Jeongguk had already taken care of the situation. As the story goes, he had accepted a side mission to stop the smuggling of antiques from a museum ー gifts from a billionaire tycoon who had long passed. His heirs had sent the treasures to be appraised in the city before it was quickly intercepted by a smuggling ring. 

Jeongguk managed to save original art from dynasties past (no doubt stolen), rare coins, china sets, and clusters of intricate jewelry. He stopped the ploy before the thieves had even left the warehouse. However, being the best of the best does not mean he is able to escape unscathed every time. 

Jeongguk did not account for the hidden explosives on the agenda. A shrapnel had grazed his skin, forming a deep gash above his brow bone. Had he not been more careful, he would have been in much worse shape. 

Although Jeongguk had completed his mission, barely injured, he can’t help but feel guilty for showing up late. If his wound was much more serious, or perhaps he was left for dead, he would not have made it to Yumi’s engagement party. The last thing Jeongguk wants is to keep you waiting. 

While he zipped through the streets of Seoul, he didn’t even have a chance to think of a lie. All he could think about was running to you. So he says the first thing that comes to mind. “The airbags in my car set off.” 

“You were in a crash? Was Minny with you? What are you doing here? You should go to a hospital!” The words splutter out of your mouth.

His hand cups yours as they rest on his cheeks. “Minny’s with Seokjin today, so don’t worry. The collision was really minor, I swear. I already went to the emergency room, and they said I’ll be good as new.” His voice is eerily calm. 

He laces his fingers with yours and presses his lips against your knuckles before promptly taking the iron skillet from your hands. “I don’t want you to worry, let’s just go to the party, okay?” 

You’re too concerned to even dwell on that tender moment of intimacy. “You worry me too much, you know?” 

“I know, angel. I’m sorry. I’ll make it up to you, I swear.” 

You squeeze his hand a little tighter as you shake your head. “I don’t need anything. I’m just glad that you’re here.” 

But little do you know, there’s a diamond ring worth millions burning a hole in Jeongguk’s pocket. Some dead billionaire isn’t going to miss it. 

Everyone at the event is captivated by Jeongguk. Of course they would. It’s easy when Jeongguk is so charming in such a deceitful way. He can easily spin different versions of himself after each new greeting, creating a hundred nuances to his personality in an instant. He could tell everyone that he’s the prince of Joseon, and they would easily fall for his lies because of the charisma that he oozes. 

Your friends see him as the best boyfriend in the world, someone who’s the total package and simply put, he’s way out of your league. He’s romantic in every aspect of the word, he’s open about his feelings, and he’s the purest definition of a “girl dad.” What more could you possibly ask for? Whatever it is, Jeongguk is exactly that. 

Even when Jeongguk has no need to impress the men at the party, he has dozens of conversation topics up his sleeve. It’s impressive when he knows basically everything about everything. You name it: video games, boxing, and the federal reserve. This arsenal of information is stored in his mind simply because he’ll never know when he needs to strike up a conversation about camping, barbecuing, or fishing (despite never having an interest to sit and stare at the water with Seokjin for hours on end). Men are so simple minded. They’re absolute fools. 

Thankfully, your brother, San, is just another man who falls for the thinly veiled ruse. He seems to approve of your relationship with Jeongguk. Mostly because he can talk about their passion for different cuts of meat. But also because he sees the way that your “boyfriend” takes care of you in the most subtle ways ー by virtue, it’s the act of noticing. 

Jeongguk walks you through the crowds of people with a guiding hand on your lower back. He fixes your hair when it falls loose in front of your face. He refills your cup with your favorite drink without ever having to ask. He can’t stop talking about how grateful he is to have a chance with you ー how you’re so beautiful and smart and the only thing he ever wants. There’s obviously love and intention in Jeongguk’s eyes whenever he looks at you. Anyone could see that. To be loved is to be known, and Jeongguk knows you like the back of his hand. 

You can feel the pressure of having to prove your relationship when all of the girls gather around, asking invasive questions. How did you convince y/n to go out with you? We almost lost hope for the poor girl. Have you all hung out as a family yet? What does Minji think of your relationship? 

For some reason, it feels like you’re back in high school, listening to locker room gossip. It feels as if they’re judging you. They’re laughing at you. But time and time again, Jeongguk defends you and your honor. Not because you need his help, but because you love the safety and security of his words.

“I don’t appreciate you being passive aggressive. Because to me, y/n is the most precious person in the world. If you have something you want to say, then just say it to my face.” He bites back without ever breaking eye contact. He rolls up the sleeves of his shirt. It’s equal parts intimidating and the most attractive thing you have ever seen. 

All the girls seem to agree when they swallow a trace of spit and nod their heads in obedience. “Sorry, we just wanted to say that you’re both so lucky to find one another.” They drop the subject, but only for a little while. 

Throughout the party, Jeongguk holds you close because he knows how nervous you were to come, and rightfully so. You told him how scared you were to introduce him to all of your friends (he doesn’t see why they deserve that title when they’re nothing but mean girls). Nevertheless, you’re frightened because your relationship with Jeongguk is sacred. Untainted. Unconventional, yes. But it’s protected because only you know about the depths of your bond. After tonight, everything will change. Having your “friends” witness your love so openly feels as if you have to give up another piece of yourself. After making this public knowledge, nothing could ever fully be yours.

But this moment right here is yours to keep, yours to hold, and yours to cherish. Jeon Jeongguk is in your arms, and all you can do is make it known that you are in love. 

“Whatever they say, ignore them, okay? Just look at me.” His arm wraps around your waist, and you relax in his hold. The stars in his eyes keep you captivated, and everything else is long forgotten. He whispers sweet nothings in your ear, scared that if he were to go up one decibel, it would burst the little bubble that you’ve created for yourselves. Perhaps you would disappear if he says your name any louder, and he would wake up to realize that his dream girl is nothing but a figment of his imagination. 

But there’s nothing about this relationship that’s fake. Your brother can see it all. Although you haven’t hung out with him in ages, he’s very intrigued with the man hanging off of your arm. “Jeongguk, when did you realize that y/n was the one?” 

“Stop, we just started dating.” You smack the back of San’s head. But Jeongguk isn’t one to shy away from the question. 

“Well, it’s a funny story. The first time I saw her, I thought I had to talk to her. A few months ago, I dropped my daughter off at the daycare. When I walked past the door, I tripped on my own two feet. I saw y/n reading a story at the front of the class. She was so elegant, graceful, and just so, so gorgeous. My first thought was that she is the most incredible person I’ve ever seen.” Jeongguk tells the story without ever taking his eyes off of you. It’s as if you’re the only person in the whole world. There’s a beaming smile stretched across his face. His dimples are carved into his cheeks. 

“Minji, my daughter, she has a tendency to cry when I’m not there. So when she bursted into tears, y/n asked if she wanted to sit with her and help her read. She put my daughter on her lap, and instantly, Minny stopped crying.

“For weeks, I tried to work up the courage to approach her. I visited as much as I could. I borrowed more materials than I could even finish, and eventually, I had a pile of overdue books sitting in my apartment. When y/n wasn’t busy with the daycare, she worked at the front desk. I thought she might say something about my outstanding charges, but she never did. At that point, I wanted to talk to her so bad, but I was so foolish. I started bringing cups of coffee into the library, thinking that she would yell at me for breaking the rules.” 

“Did it work? Why didn’t you just say something?” San wonders. 

“I wasn’t sure what to say. I didn’t think she was interested. She barely looked at me. Never tried to initiate small talk,” Jeongguk shrugs. 

Avoiding eye contact is exactly how you show interest in someone. Is there any other way to do it? You had been so nervous to even glance in his general direction! Men don’t ever give you affection, especially not men as gorgeous as Jeongguk. It just felt so wrong to even think about crushing on him. 

“But one day, y/n approached me first by some miracle, and I was so shocked. I- I just thought she was an angel. My daughter was at her side. We talked. One thing led to another. The next thing I knew, I was stressing about what outfit to wear and buying flowers so I could pick her up for a coffee date. I don’t even know how to explain it. Everything just fell into place.” 

You were convinced that Jeongguk had never noticed you before you approached him that fateful day in the non-fiction aisle. But it rings true that Minji had cried some months ago during reading time. You recall all of the details, albeit vaguely. Had Jeongguk been watching all this time? Did he really borrow an excessive amount of books and purposely buy illicit coffee just to get your attention? 

There’s a soft smile that plays on your lips, and Jeongguk is certain that you’re a real life angel. “I hope you know that I waived your overdue fees every single time,” you confess. 

…

At some point in the night, you and Jeongguk ended up separating in the most nightmarish of ways. Your coworkers had looped their arms around yours and pulled you away for some girl talk. 

Meanwhile Jeongguk is at the other end of the hall, playing billiards with all of the other men. He socializes with them as if it’s effortless. He tells them jokes and makes them chuckle, but of course, his laugh is the one that stands out to you the most. He’s enchanting, and you are all but a moth drawn to a flame. He lights up every room he walks into, shining brighter than anything you’ve ever seen.

As you watch Jeongguk have his own fun, you check out of the conversation, barely listening to what Yumi has to say. You couldn’t quite relate to the stories that they’ve shared about their partners ー being engaged, moving in together, trying for children, having sex. 

“y/n, how big is your boyfriend?” 

You ponder the question. “Uhm, I don’t know his weight exactly…” 

“No, no, sweetie, I mean how big is his dick?” 

Your eyes widen in surprise as you shake your head. “We haven’t actually done anything yet. Our relationship is new, y’know. Also, I don’t think that’s any of your business-” 

“You mean you haven’t even seen him naked? Surely you’ve touched him when you’ve made out, right?” Their eyes widen when you shake your head no, trying to sputter a retort. 

“Even if you’re taking it slow, you must know what he likes in bed, right? Spitting? Choking? Spanking? A little bit of roleplay? Does he like to be called daddy?”

You, yourself, nearly choke on your own drink. 

“Most couples get intimate because- I hate to break it to you-” Yumi leans closer to you until her voice is all but a whisper. “All men have needs. If they aren’t met, then he might break up with you and look for satisfaction elsewhere.” 

You don’t know why you would believe Yumi’s words despite Jeongguk’s constant reassurance of how much you mean to him. She’s so fucking infuriating, but could she be right? Does Jeongguk see other women when you’re not around? Does he ever tell you that you’re pretty just for the performance of being a married couple? Has everything he said in the past few weeks been an act? Surely, you don’t know everything about this man, but would he ever lie to you? You bite the inside of your cheek as you anxiously pick on the skin around your nails, thinking about her advice. 

Seemingly, Jeongguk doesn’t know what the conversation is about. But he doesn’t need to be familiar with the details to know that you’re growing anxious. He can see it from the way you fiddle with your hands. From the way you furrow your brows and chew on your lips. From down the hall, he can pick up on your breathing. He can practically hear the hurricane of thoughts swirling around your head.

Before you can drown in your thoughts, Jeongguk makes his way over to you, nursing a glass of champagne in his hand. “Hi, angel.” He whispers against your jaw. His cheeks are flushed pink as his head rests against the crook of your neck, slotting together like two pieces of a puzzle. “Do you want to get out of here? You can stay over at my place tonight if you want,” he offers.  

“What’s wrong? Does it hurt?” You shift your gaze to the gash on his brow. Even when you don’t feel your best, you’re still concerned for those around you. That’s just the person you are. You’re so used to giving yourself away. 

“Kind of,” he says. But it hurts more knowing that you’re not okay. 

You ruffle your hands through his hair, trying to soothe his ache. “Do you want your painkillers?”

“Just want you.” His deep voice rumbles against your collarbone as he presses a shy kiss to your shoulder. “Come on, let’s go home.” He gently grabs your hand in his and leads you out the front door. You don’t even have a chance to say goodbye to all the guests. Quite frankly, you don’t even care. 

The moment you return to Jeongguk’s apartment, you dart to the medicine cabinet, filling a glass of water and instructing him to swallow the morphine pill. To soothe the pain, you apply some ointment onto his injury and gently blow on his gash, hoping that it doesn’t leave a scar to mar his beautiful face. But you avoid eye contact with him as much as you can. All while Jeongguk stares at your pretty lips and your glittery eyes. You look so cute when you’re concerned. A pout rests on your face, and he wants nothing more than to kiss it better. 

But then you bid him goodnight, rushing into the guest room, pacing back and forth behind closed doors. 

Jeongguk sits in the living room, stunned, wondering if he’s done something wrong. Whether his breath smells, or maybe he’s come on too strong. Is it obvious how much he cares for you? Yet a part of him wants you to know, even if you don’t reciprocate. To love you so freely is enough for him. 

For you, the problem is not Jeongguk. It’s the fact that you can’t stop thinking about the conversation from earlier in the night. Yumi’s voice echoes through your thoughts. All men have needs. If they aren’t met, then he might break up with you and look for satisfaction elsewhere.

A part of you needs Jeongguk to tell you that this isn’t true. Your heart and mind may not be able to rest otherwise. So for the sake of your fake relationship, you put on a brave face and patter down the hall to his room. 

…

The soft knock on Jeongguk’s door draws his attention away from the vanity. As soon as he tells you to come in, you hesitantly enter his bedroom. 

His back is turned as he faces the mirror, heedlessly applying his skincare. “What’s up? Do you need anything?” He spins around to meet you with curiosity written on his face. 

You catch a glimpse of his exposed chest, and your cheeks heats up in recognition. The top three buttons of his shirt are undone, seeing that he’s getting ready for bed. He removes his rings and the silver watch from his wrist. 

“Sorry, I- I didn’t know you were indecent.” You turn your head away, avoiding his strong build ー the biceps that bulge beneath his shirt and the muscles that flex with every movement. Your hand shoots up to hide your face in embarrassment. 

He finds it adorable how flustered you get upon seeing a little bit of skin. Still, he makes no effort to button up his shirt. Because that’s all that it is ー just skin. 

You swallow the lump in your throat, and your eyes flicker to the floor as if the rug is the most interesting thing in the world. “Can we talk about something?” 

“Talk?” He approaches the bed, patting the spot beside him. “Come here, what do you want to talk about?” 

You perch yourself onto the mattress bouncing up and down from the weight of the springs. Jeongguk sidles closer to you. His knees knock against yours. He smells like jasmine and musk, and it’s divine. 

“At the party, the girls were talking about relationships,” you begin.  

He hums with a nod, attentive as ever. Jeongguk looks at you as if you’re the only person in the world, but you don’t seem to notice, too preoccupied with anything else but the intensity of his eyes. 

“What did they say?” He wonders, readjusting your necklace so the pendant sits pretty on your neck. 

“Y’know.” You tug on your fingers, finding something to fiddle with. “The usual stuff.”

He reaches for your hands, instantly halting your movements. Soothing your nerves, he rubs his thumb over your knuckles. He knows that you must have mustered a lot of courage to come over and bring this up. “Angel, you have to use your words if you want to tell me what’s on your mind.” 

You grow bashful under his touch, but that’s exactly the problem. “They talked about stuff like this.” You squeeze his palms for emphasis. “Holding hands. Touching. Skinship.” You mumble the last part, too shy to say it out loud: “Kissing.” Turning your cheek towards him, you murmur an apology. “Sorry. You make me nervous.” 

Jeongguk doesn’t fail to notice the way your tongue licks the plump of your lips or the way your throat constricts after swallowing a trace of spit. “Nervous? C’mere- look at me.” 

His deep voice sends a shiver down your spine. It’s authoritative, and you can’t help but follow his orders. 

“I’m not familiar with being this close to someone,” you motion at the lack of space between his body and yours. “I wouldn’t want you to be upset with me if I’m not very affectionate.” 

“Angel, I’d never be upset with you. We can do whatever you want at your own pace.”

“Are you sure you’d never leave me if-”

Jeongguk stops your train of thought before allowing your mind to wander to a dark place. His voice hardens upon hearing such a suggestion. “I never want to even think about that possibility because I’m not letting you go. I’m yours no matter what. You’ll actually have to fight me if you want to push me away. Even then, I’d crawl right back to you.” He truly means every single word that he utters. 

There’s a hint of a smile on your lips. “Sorry. Intimacy is really scary for me,” you confess, hesitating. Jeongguk gives you another moment to collect your thoughts. He’d give you as long as you need, even if it’s a lifetime and all the stars in the night sky have burnt out. 

“But another reason I want to talk to you is because I’m concerned this won’t come across as a real marriage if we’re physically distant, y’know? The girls said that it’s normal for couples to be… intimate.”

Jeongguk doesn’t say anything, at least not immediately. He doesn’t react. His eyes are distracted by your mouth ー the way your gloss clings onto your lips and the way it moves so languidly with every word you articulate. 

“Jeongguk- Love?”

The sound of his name never really meant much to him. After all, it’s just an alias. Yet nothing sets him aflame more than the claim that you have on him ー the way that your lips purse when you call him your love.

“I know this sounds silly-” you begin. 

He shakes his head, brows furrowed, effectively wiping away all of your insecurities. “Never.” 

A naive grin spreads across your face. How could you be so foolish to believe that Jeongguk would make you feel anything less than important? Time and time again, he makes you feel heard. He makes you feel seen.

“Go on,” he urges. “Tell me.” 

“Well, I read an article about how looking into your partner’s eyes for a long period of time increases intimacy. It also builds trust and helps to recognize emotion.” It’s ironic how you explain all of this while avoiding his eyes. Instead, you keep them trained on the scar sitting pretty and kissable on his cheek. 

A dimpled smile spreads across Jeongguk’s face. “Okay, we can try,” he agrees. He reaches to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, and you think you might pass away. “But angel, you have to face me if we’re going to do this. I want you to be comfortable.” 

“Right, yeah,” you mumble. “Of course.” Shuffling from the edge of the bed, you turn to face your husband. You tuck your feet beneath your butt and sit on your knees.

“Relax, okay? There’s no need to be nervous around me.” His voice is reassuring. It’s heartwarming. 

You nod your head as you will yourself to meet his gaze. “I can do this. I can do this,” you think to yourself. 

Jeongguk’s pupils glimmer in the lowlight, warm and comforting, and you wonder how anyone could be so handsome. You try to focus on the task at hand, but it’s difficult when he, himself, is so distracting. There’s a beauty mark on his cheek. His jaw. His nose. Beneath his lip. You could trace them all day and night, if only he’d let you. 

Jeongguk’s deep voice cuts through the night. “Is there anything else that you want to try?” 

“M- maybe we could hold hands?” 

“We’ve held hands before.” He laces his fingers between yours so effortlessly, his hand engulfing. 

Your breath hitches in your throat. 

“Does it still make you nervous?” He wonders. 

“A little bit,” you glance at how small your hand looks in his. “But I can get used to it.” 

“Can I suggest something?” 

You nod, agreeing. “Anything.” 

He tilts his head to the side, raising a brow, unconvinced. “Anything? Are you sure?” 

You nod with more confidence. “I’ll tell you if I don’t like it.” 

“Then can I hold you?”

You hesitate for a second, unsure of what that entails. A beat goes by when Jeongguk is prepared to tell you that you’re free to say no. But you wipe that thought away, giving him your full consent.

Not a second passes by before he wraps his tattooed arms around your waist, tugging you onto his lap. Your thighs rest on either side of his hips, straddling him.

A squeak ー a fucking squeak. God, how much cuter can you get? ー slips past your lips. They’re swollen from how you nervously tug on the flesh, tethering it between your teeth. 

“Does this feel better?” There’s a sense of longing that drips from Jeongguk’s honeyed voice. 

“It’s… nice.” Your brain is on the verge of malfunctioning and shutting down upon feeling the heat of his skin against yours. “Better.” Your voice is breathy. It’s self preservation. You exhale deeply in an attempt to calm the flutter of your heart. 

To keep yourself occupied, you trace your fingers across your bare thighs, unsure of what to do with them. Jeongguk had let go of your hands in favor of holding your hips. So you play with the hem of your dress that’s currently riding up your legs. Suddenly, you’re very aware of how little you’re wearing. How your skin is burning beneath his fingertips. 

Jeongguk’s body is radiating, and you can feel the heat between your legs grow, the dampness in your underwear spreading. 

“You can touch me if you want,” he offers. 

You’re not as confident as Jeongguk, but oh, how you wish you were. 

“Do you want to?” He senses your hesitation, yet you nod your head, affirming.

“I do,” you bite the inside of your cheek. “I want to touch you- feel you.” 

Jeongguk wraps his fingers around your wrists, bringing your hands to rest on his broad shoulders. They’re muscular beneath your touch. You curse yourself for letting your mind wander and for letting your panties soak with arousal ー neither of which you can control. 

Somehow, you resist the urge to look down at his physique. The sleeves of his shirt are rolled up to the elbows, revealing his strong forearms, adorned by the dark tattoos that coil up his muscles. Your gaze darts across his features, struggling to focus on the starlight in his eyes. You switch between the edge of his jaw, the dip of his neck, and the plump of his lips. 

“My eyes are up here, angel.” The corner of his mouth draws into a smile ー so bright and devastatingly beautiful. He hooks a gentle hand beneath your chin, guiding you to meet his stare. “Tell me what you’re thinking about. What’s going on in that pretty head of yours?” 

Your voice is soft, just barely above a whisper. It’s nearly inaudible. “Thinking about what it would be like to kiss you.” 

The innocence of your words makes Jeongguk blush. He’s never been the type to be so easily affected. After all, he’s the bold one in the relationship ー confident, decisive, dominant. But you make him weak in the knees.

“You don’t have to ask permission to kiss me.” Jeongguk inches closer, considerate hands squeezing around your waist. “You’re my wife.” 

Why does the thought of belonging to Jeongguk make your heart stutter? You’re certain that this is nothing but pretend, yet the only thing that makes you believe this could be real is the soothing circles that Jeongguk draws onto your skin. He’s present. He’s willing. His lips are right there, right in front of you. You could take the leap of faith and close the distance, leaning forward to kiss him. 

So you do. 

When your lips meet, it’s as if the rest of the world has gone silent. Time has stopped, and nothing else matters but the two of you at this moment. 

His lips are pillowy soft against yours. He tastes like champagne and mint. He’s gentle, only applying as much pressure as you do. You melt into his touch, feeling featherlight in his hold. His hands grip your waist so delicately, with love and intention, as if you are the most precious thing in his eyes. 

You pull apart to catch your breath, allowing the air to fill your lungs, regretfully so. If you were to drown, you would want to drown in Jeon Jeongguk. Your eyes flutter open, but you can’t seem to look at anything but his cherry lips. 

“Love…” The term of endearment leaves your lips in a pant, and he grows harder beneath you. “This is going to sound so embarrassing…” Your voice trails off as the heat engulfs your entire body. Your head lowers, feeling self-conscious of your actions. 

Jeongguk nuzzles his nose against your neck as he presses tender kisses on your collarbone. “What is it? You can tell me anything.” 

Your fingernails dig into his strong shoulders, squeezing his taut muscles as you muster the courage to tell him the truth. “That was my first kiss.” 

He peers up at you from beneath his long eyelashes. “That’s nothing to be embarrassed about.” Jeongguk shakes his head, squeezing your waist with reassurance. 

Your eyes are half lidded as you murmur a quiet confession, “I want to kiss you again.” Normally, you wouldn’t dare to be so bold, but you feel drunk on his taste.

“You can do whatever you want to me.” Jeongguk draws you closer, dragging your core onto the apex of his thighs, thick and sturdy. “I like anything that you like. Kissing you. Holding you. Just looking at you,” he shrugs. “And if it wasn’t obvious enough… I like you.” 

Jeon Jeongguk makes you absolutely breathless. “Ar- are we still pretending?” 

“Never.” Leaning forward, he brushes his mouth against yours. “I have never once pretended with you.” 

You kiss him back with more fervor, desperate and wanting. You’re more confident now, fully knowing that Jeongguk wants this as much as you do. 

“When you said I could do whatever…” You pull back, thinking about Jeongguk’s previous statement.

He nods his head with the most innocent beam on his face. “I mean it.”

God, you feel like such a pervert. You’ve shared your first kiss with him, something so sweet and innocent. Why couldn’t that be enough for you? You’re sitting on his lap, feeling the broad planes of his chest, and you can’t stop thinking about what it would be like to do more. To feel more. 

You’re ridden with guilt, drowning in your own arousal, but Jeongguk is so kind. He’s understanding. He’s staring at you as if you’re his whole world. He would never dare to objectify you because he’s a gentleman. But… What if you want him to? 

“The girls at the party were also talking about…” Your words begin to trail. 

“About what?” You subconsciously trace circles onto his shoulders, distracting yourself from the conversation, not knowing that Jeongguk’s eyes flutter close because he adores the drag of your nails and the subtle warmth of your fingertips. 

“About… doing it.” Your words come out in a hushed whisper. It feels too inappropriate to say it out loud. Yet you don’t dare to mention how your panties are absolutely ruined. 

“Angel, what did we talk about?” His lips press against your shoulder, at any inch of skin that he can reach. “You have to be more specific.”

Jeongguk has never once made you feel ashamed or embarrassed. He has never laughed at you or told you that you’re being silly. So why is it so difficult to tell him that you want him ー Need him? 

You take the leap of faith because this is your partner ー in life, in death, and in crime. This is Jeongguk. Your one and only lover who never fails to remind you that you are the strongest woman in the world. He who delivers nutritious lunch boxes to you and tucks cute notes into the lid because he knows that they make you smile. Jeon Jeongguk who massages the knots out of your shoulders after a secret night of combat. He who gets pouty when you call him anything other than ‘love.’

There’s no need to hide anything from this man. He’s your home, just as you are his.

“They talked about sex… You know… making love. ” The crude word sounds so wrong leaving your lips. So out of place. It’s dirty, and it’s naughty. “They said all couples do it, but we’ve never…” 

“Do you want to do it because you want to, or is it because your friends told you to?” Jeongguk searches your eyes for clarification. “Because if you feel pressured when you’re not ready-”

“No! I do!” You cling onto his shirt with more urgency. “I want to do it ー with you. I trust you.” You lean closer, brushing your lips against his ear. “You’re my husband.” 

Jeongguk groans at the sound of your words. At the way your fingernails scratch down his chest. At the way you sit so pretty and perfect on top of his lap, pressing your weight into his erection. 

He gulps as if this is the first time he’s ever been nervous in his life. “Why don’t you take off my shirt?” 

“C- can I?” you stutter. 

“Like I said, you can do whatever you want to me. You’re my wife, and I’m yours.” He presses his lips against your brow. “Yours to hold. To kiss. To love.” He kisses your nose. Your chin. Your jaw. He tucks your hair behind your ears and whispers. “I’m yours to make love to.” 

With trembling fingers, you reach for the button that barely holds Jeongguk’s shirt together. 

His hand engulfs yours. “Don’t forget to breathe, in and out, okay?” Jeongguk, patient as ever, waits for your respiration to steady. “You’re safe with me. If you want to stop, just say the word.” 

With each button undone, his shirt falls apart, revealing Jeongguk’s toned abs. As glorious as he is, your eyes are drawn to the scar on the side of his stomach, barely covered by the fabric that hangs off his back. The scar is jagged, and the skin is raised, the tissue is puckered at the edges. 

“Wha- what happened here?” Your fingertips reach down to trace over the scar, but before you make contact, you pull away. 

“You can touch it-” Jeongguk reaffirms. “Wherever you want. I’m yours.” 

Jeongguk’s breath hitches in his throat when your cold hands lightly graze the rough texture, feeling the ghost of his past. But he knows how you’ll respect his boundaries no matter what, and he relaxes, fully knowing that you’ll take care of him. 

“I had surgery when I was younger.” Jeongguk lies. “They took out my appendix.” 

Your brows furrow. There’s no reason not to believe him, but why is the scar so jagged and uneven? Certain parts are wider than others as if the surgeon had twisted a large blade into his abdomen, and not simply sliced to gain access to his organs. 

As usual, Jeongguk can read the concern written on your face. “It’s okay, it didn’t hurt much.” The curve of his lips settle into a warm and reassuring smile. “I promise.” 

Jeongguk doesn’t express any discomfort about his scar, yet you can’t help but wonder what kind of horrors he had to live through. 

To ease your mind, Jeongguk pulls you into his body and presses his hands beneath your thighs. 

A yelp escapes from your lips as he lifts you up. You’re chest to chest with him, legs wrapping around his waist. He presses your back down to the mattress, settling your head onto one of the pillows at the bedpost. 

He hovers above you, a hair's breadth away. 

“Hi,” he whispers against your lips. “You look so stunning.”

You grow shy with all the attention that Jeongguk feeds you. “Hi,” you whisper back. Your legs wrap tighter around his waist. 

“Can I take this off?” Jeongguk glides a finger beneath the strap of your dress.

There’s a rush in your head, feeling dizzy upon nodding your head with so much vigor. 

His lips pair with yours in a quick kiss before calling you a good girl. He shifts his weight off of you so that he can tug you into an upright position and peel the dress off. 

Jeongguk’s eyes widen at your bare chest, having omitted a bra so as to not ruin the outfit. His throat goes dry, and he’s having trouble forming words in his head. You’ve never seen him so speechless. 

Subconsciously, you raise your arms to cover your chest. 

“No, no, no, don’t do that.” Jeongguk wraps his fingers around your wrists, pressing a smooch to your delicate skin. “You’re so pretty like this. Don’t ever hide from me, okay?” 

His words make you shiver. Having someone dote on you as much as Jeongguk is something you’re not used to. But that’s exactly why you’re here, right? So you nod your head and let him pin your hands to the mattress before leading a trail of kisses down your body.

Curious fingers speak freely against your skin, exploring every inch of you. He takes note of every gasp, giggle, and moan that escapes your lips. He presses his swollen lips to your sensitive spots until you keen louder for him, desperately begging for more. His lips wrap around your nipple, sucking on the bud until you whimper. He’s a drooling mess over your tits as he leaves a trail of saliva, marking your skin and claiming you as his. 

Jeongguk furthers his descent down your tummy, placing sweet kisses against the waistband of your panties. He reaches down to feel the leather strap around your upper thigh. It’s the holster that you use to sheathe your knife, and thank God you disarmed before stepping into Jeongguk’s bedroom. 

“I use it to hold my pepper spray,” you murmur a half-ass excuse. “Some of my clothes have shallow pockets.” 

Jeongguk smiles against your skin as he ghosts his lips against your soft thighs. He doesn’t think much of it, but he does think it’s really hot. So he doesn’t bother to unstrap as he continues to worship your body. 

What catches his attention is not the way you’ve soaked through your underwear, as arousing as it is. But rather, he’s intrigued by the faint mark on the outside of your thigh. It’s not a regular, old scar. To Jeongguk, it’s oddly familiar because it’s what appears to be an old bullet wound. 

Jeongguk stutters in disbelief, eyes wide. “What’s this? W- were you sho-” He tries to mentally collect himself as he settles on a choice of words. “Were you hurt? Who hurt you?”

You look down, noticing the circular scar on your outer thigh before shaking it off. “It’s nothing. It was from an injection.” 

“Are you sure? It looks li- It looked serious.” His voice trembles with concern, hands fisting at his sides. 

You pull him up by the collar of his undone shirt, hanging off his broad shoulders. Your lips meet his in a delicate, comforting kiss. Jeongguk visibly relaxes in your hold.  

“I’m fine, really. I just want you.” You claw his shoulders in an attempt to peel the rest of the fabric off. 

Jeongguk sighs, trying to forget about what he had seen. But he’s certain that his mind will wander back to the scar at another point in time. He strips the shirt off his back, carelessly tossing the fabric onto the floor. 

Jeon Jeongguk is mesmerizing. You’ve never seen the entirety of his sleeve, but there it is, in all its glory. There’s a faint beauty mark on his chest, one that you did not account for when tracing all of the scars and marks on his upper body. 

“Tell me you want me,” his breath is hot and heavy against yours. 

Subconsciously, you clench at the sound of his words. “Guk- I want you more than anything.” Your hands float down to the buckle of his jeans as you unclasp the button. “You’re wearing too much. Take it off.” The plea that falls from your lips is breathy and desperate. 

“Fuck-” Jeongguk curses, trying to restrain himself.

Jeongguk has slept with plenty of women before, but never like this. He’s always had one night stands with an ulterior motive, whether it is for leverage or intel or for the sole purpose of converting an innocent woman into a whistleblower. He’s fucked with media journalists, cabinet members, and even the wives of politicians. He isn’t proud of it, but women, just like everyone else, are more likely to say things they don’t mean when their desires are fulfilled. They’re willing to trust him and spill their secrets when they’re lost in the throes of pleasure ー when he hands over his lust and his attention. It’s transactional. 

Jeongguk has always thought that love is cheap. But not with you. 

With you, Jeongguk has the innate need to take his time. He wants to show you what it means to make love. 

He hooks his hand beneath your panties, pulling them down your legs. There’s a string of arousal that breaks when he tugs the fabric off. It’s absolutely soaked in your arousal. Jeongguk’s lips press against every inch of your skin, leaving no spot untouched. 

You shudder when his hot breath meets your inner thighs, threatening to close them. He wraps his thick arms around your legs, digging his fingers into your hips, pinning you to the mattress. 

He keeps his eyes trained on your face as you tremble beneath his touch. He kitten licks your clit, careful as to not overwhelm you. But you quickly melt into the pillows, gripping his hair between your fingers.

Jeongguk wants to commit this to memory. The way that you look so angelic in this light. 

Quiet whimpers escape from your parted lips. “You don’t have to hold back,” he reminds you. “Be as loud as you want. Nobody’s home. We have all the time in the world, and I want you to feel good.” 

He wraps his lips around your clit, sucking softly on the bundle of nerves until you’re writhing against his mouth. Soon enough, you grind your hips, practically riding his face like a needy slut, desperate and wanting. 

The moans slip out of your mouth freely, and Jeongguk grows harder at how pretty you are, lost in pleasure. He begins to rut his hips against the mattress, seeking some kind of relief for his aching cock. 

His tongue slips between your walls, licking up the arousal that seeps down your thighs. His chin is coated in your wetness, and he’s utterly obsessed with your taste. 

Your nails dig into his hair, pulling on the roots. He elicits a moan against your core, and you’re muttering apologies, “sorry, ‘m sorry.” Yet you continue to grind your cunt against his tongue, proving that you’re not sorry at all.  

Your grip loosens, but Jeongguk whines at the loss of tension. “Feels good, angel, don’t stop.” 

He quickly grabs your hands and places them on the top of his head, encouraging you to tug as hard as you want. He’s obsessed with your taste, but he’s also addicted to the pain that you inflict on him. 

He dips his tongue between your walls, reaching as far as he can go. He smiles against your core as if he’s the one enjoying himself ー and truly, he is. He can’t get enough of you. Jeongguk loves to bury his face into your sweet pussy, making out with your cunt. His chin is doused in your essence, and he wants more. He needs to see you dripping in cum so he can taste you straight from the source. 

“Guk, it feels weird,” you choke on your words, pressing your hands against your tummy. The tears cascade down your cheeks as your high builds in the pit of your stomach.

“Shh, shh, angel,” he hushes before dropping a thick glob of spit onto your entrance. He can’t believe that you’ve never come in your life. Have you never played with your cute little cunt before? 

Jeongguk laps your clit while he works a finger into you, gliding between your tight walls. He pushes another one in, watching you stretch around his digits. In the back of his mind, he wonders how you’ll be able to take his cock when you can hardly take his fingers. He curls them inside of you, slowly adding a third. 

You will yourself to pick your head up, allowing your gaze to meet his. The sight before you is filthy beyond belief. You can’t believe that Jeongguk is making out with your naughty pussy, and you love it. His fingers are gliding inside of you, reaching places you’ve never reached before. He’s humping the mattress, trying to satiate his throbbing cock that’s leaking through his boxers. 

“Guk- love, I-”

“Just let go. Come for me,” his husky voice vibrates against your cunt. 

At the sound of his command, you unravel on his tongue, shuddering beneath his strong hold. Your cunt pulses as waves of pleasure rip through you. Soft moans flow through your parted lips, and it’s suddenly Jeongguk’s new favorite melody. 

He watches you fall apart with hearts in his eyes. His hands wrap around your thighs, holding you in place as he fucks you through your climax. You’ve never felt a sensation this strong before. It doesn’t even compare when you’re high on adrenaline. 

Yet Jeongguk laps your pussy as if he’s a puppy, so eager to please you as he collects all of your cum on his tongue. He wants you as much as you’ll allow. Before the overstimulation sets in, you have to weakly tap his shoulder, pushing him away as your thighs close around his head. 

He presses a smooch to your clit before finally pulling back. “How did that feel?” 

“Never felt anything like that before,” you gasp, trying to catch your breath. “C- can you show me how to touch you too?” The innocent look in your eyes drives him absolutely mad. “Wanna make you feel good.” You palm him through his boxers, and he groans at your touch. 

Fuck. “Tonight’s about you, angel.” Jeongguk curses at himself because you look so pretty batting your eyelashes at him. You’re practically begging to suck him off, and he can’t bring himself to say yes. Your hands dip beneath his underwear, gliding your hands up and down his throbbing cock. 

Jeongguk thinks that he might be in heaven. “Aren’t you too tired? I’ve already made you come once.” 

But you shake your head, “I want more, please? I can take it. Will you please give it to me?”

“I- I don’t have a condom,” he confesses. 

“Don’t care, I need you.” Your hands roam across the planes of his chest before settling on the back of his neck. You pull him closer until your lips brush against his. “Need you so bad…” You subconsciously roll your hips, grinding your bare cunt against his thigh, pleading ー begging for him to sink his cock inside of you to relieve the ache. “It hurts,” you murmur. 

What else is Jeongguk supposed to do when his baby is aching, begging and pleading for his help? So he pulls his cock out of his boxers, tossing the offensive material out of the way. Your mouth waters as your eyes meet his length. 

“It’s not gonna fit,” you shake your head. Surely, he could split you open with his sheer girth. “You’re too big.”

Jeongguk wraps his hand around his length, jerking himself off before pressing the length of his thick cock onto your stomach, measuring how deep he could possibly go. The pretty tip rests against your belly button. Jeon Jeongguk could actually break you, and you would let him. 

“Are you sure you want to do this? We can stop-” 

You shake your head with desperate vigor, and your imploring hands reach for his broad shoulders. “Just- just go slow, okay?”

Jeongguk pairs his lips with yours in a sweet kiss, “I’ll take care of you. I promise.” He releases a thick glob of spit onto your cunt before rubbing the tip of his cock against your core, spreading the sloppy mess across your mound. He drags his tip against your lips before slowly pushing into your soaked cunt. 

You gasp upon feeling the intrusion, squeezing your eyes shut. 

Jeongguk nibbles the column of your neck, whispering quiet praises against your skin to distract you from the discomfort. He looks down to see barely half of his length tucked inside of you, yet your walls are stretched to accommodate him. At the pit of your stomach, there’s a bulge where the tip of his cock prods against your cunt. It protrudes against your tummy, leaving an indentation. He can quite literally watch his dick plow into you.

“Angel, look at how well you take me,” he groans. 

You will yourself to open your eyes, seeing how he stuffs you to the brim. The visual is so filthy. 

“God, I’ve been dreaming of this.” Jeongguk drops another glob of spit where his length meets your cunt, allowing the glide to be more effortless. The way that your pretty pussy struggles to make room for him is the hottest thing he’s ever seen. His eyes roll back as he squeezes your waist, trying to regain an ounce of composure. 

“You’ve been thinking about this? About us?” You clench upon hearing his deepest desires. 

He curses under his breath, not knowing how much longer he’d last if you’re already this tight wrapped around his cock. “You have no idea-” When he rests his head against your shoulder, panting, another inch sinks inside of you. “Sorry, ‘m sorry. You just feel so fucking good.” 

His rough hands wander across your body, mapping every inch of your skin, committing it to memory. Jeongguk taps his fingers against your lips as he requests you to ‘open up.’ As obedient as you are, you part your lips, allowing him to slip his digits inside.

“Suck on my fingers,” he coos as he pushes himself further into your sweet pussy. “That’s my good girl.” He pulls his calloused fingers out of your mouth, and they find home onto your clit as he rubs figure eights onto your bundle of nerves. It serves as a distraction from the slight sting of resistance where his cock stretches your walls. 

But for Jeongguk, this feels like heaven. He resists the urge to sheathe himself into your virgin cunt, down to the hilt. “Can’t believe that I get to see you like this.” 

Jeongguk seriously can’t believe how fortunate he is that he’s your first. Nobody has ever touched you the way that Jeongguk does. Nobody will ever fuck you or make you come the way that he will. And certainly, nobody will ever get to see you act like a desperate little slut. You belong to Jeongguk just as he belongs to you. And this is the privilege he gets when you’re his wife. 

You watch his face twist in concentration as he works himself into you. His biceps bulge, and his skin dimples beneath the pressure of your fingers when you squeeze his arm. They feel so rock solid beneath your touch. So strong and so, so reliable like the Jeongguk you know and love. You whimper simply because he’s hot, and you could never resist him. 

“S- something wrong?” He stills his hips inside of you, and his cock pulses. 

“N- no,” you whine, shaking your head. “Just wanna hold your hand.” You scratch down his biceps as you paw at his chest. Even when he’s buried inside of you, it’s still not enough. You need him, and you need all of him. 

He grabs both of your hands, softly squeezing them as he pins them on either side of your head. Jeongguk cages you against the mattress as he presses his body weight against yours, plunging his cock deeper and deeper between your walls, inch by inch. 

Your chest heaves when his hips press against yours, completely buried inside of you, and a silent cry slips past your lips. Tears begin to form in the corner of your eyes. 

“Just breathe for me, angel, okay? Relax, ease up for me. I know it’s uncomfortable now, but you’ll feel so good, I swear.”

You nod your head, and you can’t help but cry. You just feel so full. Two twin tears trail down your cheeks, and Jeongguk is quick to kiss them away.

He soothes his thumb over the back of your hand as he praises you. “You’re doing so well for me. Such a good girl. You can take it, right? You can take it all for me.” 

You nod your head, letting the tears fall down like summer rain. “I can take it, I swear-” You sound so choked up, and it’s probably due to the fact that Jeongguk is so fucking deep, you can practically feel him in your throat. 

“Move, please, I need you so bad.” The broken sob rips out of your throat as you cry in desperation.

He pulls out with a shallow thrust, wanting to be as close to you as possible. Looking down, he can see where his cock fucks into you, where there’s a bulge that shadows every single one of his thrusts. He takes your hand down to rub over the protrusion. 

“Can you feel me? Right here?” He quickly slides out of you before pressing his hips flush against yours in one swift motion. 

A deep groan rumbles through his chest, sending a deep vibration through your body. His breath is hot against your lips, and you can actually feel him in your tummy. You can feel him everywhere. 

“How’s it, angel?” 

“Feels full-” you manage to choke the words out of your mouth. 

“Too much?” Jeongguk asks. His breath is shaky as he plows his hips against yours. His cock twitches inside of you, and he really doesn’t want to pull out. But if you had asked, he wouldn’t hesitate to do so. 

Thank God for your insatiability because you shake your head as you bring your intertwined hand to your lips, pressing a kiss to his skin. “Feels good- keep going, please,” you beg. 

“See? I knew you could take it like a good girl.” 

Soon enough, the discomfort subsides, and all you can feel is pleasure in the pit of your stomach. Jeongguk fucks into you until he bottoms out, prodding at the spot that has you seeing stars. Your eyes begin to cross, obsessed with the way he fills you up, turning you into a stuttering mess. 

“Oh my god, feels s’ good, Guk- Don’t stop,” you cry, wrapping your legs tightly around his waist to keep him close. 

Your mouth falls open and drool begins to slip from the corner of your lips. Jeongguk wedges his tongue into your mouth, swirling your spit and saliva together into one hungry mess. 

He shifts his attention to your sensitive neck as he sucks on the column of your throat. A mark begins to bloom above your collarbone. If anyone were to doubt your marriage and the fact that you belonged to Jeongguk, there would be no reason to do so now. 

The only thing you can focus on is the way that Jeongguk pokes your cervix, and you want nothing more but for him to flood your womb. Your heavy lidded eyes fall shut, your head lolls, and your cheek rests against the pillow. 

But Jeongguk refuses to let you look away. His hand hooks around your jaw, and his fingers dig into your cheek. “Look at me,” he demands. “Want to see you when you come.” He lifts your face off the pillow and presses his lips against yours. 

Jeongguk gives deep and pointed thrusts into your cunt. He grips your hands so tightly, but you welcome the embrace. His hips snap against yours, rutting into your battered hole as you desperately chase your high. 

“‘m sorry, princess, am I too rough?” He mouths against your lips. “Just f- feels so good around me. So tight n’ warm. You’re s’ perfect.” 

You shake your head in desperation. “N- no, I love it-” You love him. “I’m close,” you cry, overwhelmed with emotions. 

“Come for me, angel,” he groans into your ear, pressing kisses against your nose, your cheek, your lips. He squeezes your hands, never letting you go. 

He pounds into you once, twice, three-four times, bullying his cock into you, and you come undone with the rough snap of his hips. You tremble in his arms, feeling this orgasm tenfold compared to the last. Cum begins to seep out of your cunt, drenching Jeongguk’s cock until there’s a ring of cream at the base of his length. 

You tight little cunt clenches around him as if you never want him to leave. He finds it hard to breathe when you look so beautiful, so pretty, and just so cute caged beneath him. As much as he wants to come inside of you and stuff you full, Jeongguk is quick to pull out when he feels his climax approach. He glides his cock against your cunt, rutting against your lips. He paints your stomach with ribbons of white cum, groaning at the lewdness of it all. 

Thoughts of Jeongguk breeding your cunt flashes through your mind ー having him flood you with cum round after round until you can have a happy little family of four. 

Obscene images of you doing this again and again in different positions send your mind racing. You want him to bury himself to the hilt with your knees pinned against your chest. If only he could flood your womb as he holds you by the back of your thighs in a mating press. Maybe you can come when you’re on all fours, on your hands and knees. Or you could take him down your throat as deep as you can go, choking and gagging on his length with saliva dribbling out of your lips. Although you’re certain that you could barely take half of him considering his size and your inexperience. But Jeongguk can teach you, and you can practice night after night until he absolutely ruins you. 

“So much cum,” you murmur, admiring the liquid that rests on your tummy. You swipe your fingers across your stomach before sticking them in your mouth. Jeongguk’s cock twitches at the sight of you so desperate for a taste. 

He presses a kiss to your forehead, “How was it?” 

“Can we do it again?” Your eyes glimmer with wishful thinking. It’s safe to say that you had the best night of your life. 

Jeongguk sputters a laugh, shaking his head. “Let’s get you cleaned up.” 

He carries you to the bathroom, making sure you use the toilet to prevent UTIs. Meanwhile, he runs a bath for you where he lathers lavender shampoo in your hair and rubs the knots from your sore shoulders, down to your hips and legs. Between soft giggles and splashes of water, you share sweet kisses and loving stares. Before your fingers can prune, Jeongguk lifts you out of the tub and dries you off with a warm towel. 

The two of you tangle beneath the sheets. But before you fall asleep to the sound of one another’s heartbeat, you ask Jeongguk the question that’s been on your mind. 

“I was just wondering… Do you like to be called daddy?” 

His lips meet your forehead before tucking you closer to his chest. “Go to sleep, angel. We’ll talk about it tomorrow.” 

Jeongguk, in fact, does like to be called daddy among a plethora of other vulgar words. This vital piece of information is not necessary for the Hwa Yang interview, but you tuck that specific fact into the recesses of your brain for future reference. 

Because the truth is, you don’t have enough time to memorize Jeongguk’s life story. You can save that for another day. The Hwa Yang interview is in less than a week, and you have to save all of your brain space for relevant ー appropriate information. Such as the values of your family and the importance of education in your lives. 

Thankfully, as Jeongguk’s informant, Seokjin managed to snag sample questions that the interviewers are likely to ask: What type of person do you want your child to grow up to be? What is your child’s school experience like thus far? What are some habits you practice to help your child acclimate to the academic rigor of this school? 

So Jeongguk, Minji, and you work tirelessly to come up with the perfect answers that give the impression that you are a family exuding elegance. In the eyes of the admissions director, it basically means that you have to rival the royal family. 

Minji should have interests beyond her plushies and her manhwas, something along the lines of tennis, horseback riding, or crossword puzzles. She has to continue with her studies ー global history, foreign affairs, music theory, and yes, even her sworn enemy, mathematics. At the mere age of five, she should obtain fluency in a second language (which is apparently really impressive if you’re the royal heir to the British empire). 

All of this preparation proves to be handy because at the academy, the board of interviewers ask about Minji’s interests and her hobbies. They want to know what type of learner she is and how she can contribute to the fast paced learning environment. 

Although Minji is exceptional as she is, you can’t help but wonder why a child has to be a prodigy to be deemed as someone worthy of a good education. What’s wrong with simply existing? What’s wrong with being average? Because if the price of being average is being a decent human being, you would rather take your chances at a different school. 

The sound of the headmaster’s voice breaks you out of your reverie. “I want to ask Minji what a typical day in the household looks like.”

She straightens her posture upon hearing her name. “I start the day when eomma wakes me up and helps me get ready for kindergarten. She double checks to make sure my homework and my school supplies are in my bag. She also packs extra clothes for me just in case. Appa makes breakfast in the kitchen, and when we finish eating, they walk me to school-” 

The headmaster crinkles his brows. A look of confusion crosses his features. “Does your father always cook for the family?” 

“Yes, appa usually cooks because eomma works really hard. Sometimes, she comes home with aches and pains because of all the energy she uses.” Minji shifts her gaze to her father, trying to gauge whether her answer is acceptable. Meanwhile, your eyes are filled with concern, worried she’ll somehow expose your criminal history. “But eomma always helps when she can. She goes to the market, and she does the laundry. She also makes tea for appa and hot chocolate for me. She helps me with my homework even if I don’t like fractions.” Minji says the last part in a hushed whisper. 

“Really? Is your mother someone you aspire to be? Despite your father being the one to prepare your meals? It’s rather untraditional.” 

“I don’t believe that question is pertinent to the interview. It’s quite leading,” Jeongguk states. His voice doesn’t falter, but there’s animosity in every breath that he takes. “I can assure you that my wife is a wonderful mother and role model to our daughter. Now may we please refocus our attention on Minji and her academics?” Jeongguk’s eyebrows furrow, and he is seething. He balls his hands into fists, resisting the urge to throw a right hook at the man across the table. 

Instinctually, your fingers inch across the settee, reaching for Jeongguk’s hand in order to soothe his nerves. His shoulders relax upon feeling the heat of your skin as if to quietly remind him that everything is okay. 

“Of course, I apologize.” The headmaster says diplomatically before jotting down a few words into his notebook. He raises his nose in the air as if he’s on some high horse.

The interview persists until the end of the hour, and Jeongguk remains at the edge of his seat. He holds his hand in yours to keep his composure intact. Thankfully, the dean of admissions and the executive advisor have more tasteful questions to ask. 

However, it doesn’t last long. The headmaster intercepts once again. “Mrs. Jeon, I noticed that your documents indicate you are Minji’s stepmother, correct? Do you ever feel some kind of disconnect considering that you are not her biological mother?” 

You’re taken aback by this impromptu question. You didn’t prepare an answer for this, although your natural response would be to wrap your hands around this man’s bare neck, wringing it dry. Yet you remain composed for the sake of Jeongguk and Minji. You can feel Jeongguk hold your hand tighter in his. But you pat his wrist, serving as both a warning and a comforting acknowledgement. 

“I love Minji as a daughter, just as any other mother. To me, it doesn’t matter if she’s not my blood relative. We’ve grown really close ever since we’ve met. I admit that I have never been a mom myself, and I’m faced with a new learning curve every single day. But isn’t that what motherhood is? It’s nothing I’m not used to. Growing up, I raised my younger brother. At work, I take care of children from all different backgrounds. Surely, I make mistakes, but I think every parent leaves a mark on their child no matter what they do. Sometimes it’s a stain. Other times it’s a break, a bend, or a crack. Other parents can splinter their kids, but I hope that I never get to that point. I’m not perfect, but I’m constantly trying to be better. I love Minji more than anything.” 

“So you never feel any sense of inadequacy or resentment?” The headmaster has the audacity to question your parenting skills. 

Jeongguk cannot stand to hear the headmaster criticize you anymore. In a blink of an eye, he slams his fist against the coffee table. The wood splits in half beneath the brute force of his hand, and you’re quite impressed by the display of action. 

“This is wildly inappropriate for an interview. This entire time, you’ve done nothing but berate my wife because we do not have a conventional family. We’re not wealthy people. We work hard for what we do. We take care of one another in a way that only we know and understand. If you can’t accept that, then maybe this is not the school that we want our child to be enrolled in.” Jeongguk’s chest heaves as he says his peace. 

He doesn’t even take another moment to listen to the headmaster. There’s nothing he could say that could warrant forgiveness. So Jeongguk picks up his daughter, and he grabs your hand before storming out of the interview room. 

Jeongguk is going to have a difficult time explaining to his boss why he’s failed his mission.

“I’m sorry I messed up Minji’s chance of going to Hwa Yang.” You tug at the sleeves of your dress as you stare at the floor.

Back at Jeongguk’s apartment, you sink into the couch, allowing the weight of the situation to finally settle. 

Jeongguk rests his hand on your shoulders, turning you so that you can meet his gaze. “You didn’t mess up anything.” His eyes are filled with warmth, but you feel as if you don’t deserve it. 

“We worked so hard for this, and it was all for nothing.” 

There’s still residual rage that flows through his veins. “Nothing? Don’t say that. Don’t you know that I lo-” 

Your heart lurches out of your chest as you stare at him in awe. He loves you? 

Jeongguk’s hands shift to hold your cheeks, running his calloused thumb against the edge of your jaw. He sighs, trying to collect his thoughts. “We have each other, and that’s all that matters at the end of the day, okay? We couldn’t anticipate that they’d be so cruel. I would defend you over anything in this world. So don’t you dare say that this was all for nothing.”

He pulls you into a tight hug, tucking your head beneath his chin. You can hear the sound of his heart beat, beating only for you. It’s distracting enough for you to miss his whispered declaration: “I’m seriously gonna marry you someday.” 

Minji climbs onto the couch, wedging herself between her parents. “If I don’t get accepted, I don’t have to go to school, right?” 

The two of you peel away from the embrace, glaring at Minji, shaking your heads. “No, you have to go,” you simultaneously declare with stern conviction. 

Minji huffs a sigh, looking downcast. But when her stomach grumbles, you effectively put an end to your pity party. You and Jeongguk drop everything, scurrying into the kitchen to prepare dinner for your precious daughter. She worked hard, and she did her very best. You all did. 

…

Tucked away into the busy streets of Seoul, there’s a tiny little apartment on the second story filled with music and laughter. 

While the water boils for the buckwheat noodles, Jeongguk watches over his precious family, reading the instructions for the sauce. All you need is a mixture of perilla oil, cham sauce, buldak sauce, buldak mayo, egg yolk, and a generous amount of furikake. But when you and Minji measure out everything to perfection, you cheer for one another as if you’ve made a meal worthy of praise from the world renown Gordon Ramsey. 

When the noodles are ready, you all gather around the table and laugh to your heart's content. You fill your stomachs with starch, a heavy amount of spice, and plenty of love. You dote on one another, too distracted with the loving family you’ve created to notice anything outside of your little bubble. 

This moment is yours, and yours alone. This is your happy place, and nobody can take it away from you. Not even the sound of the answering machine, echoing from the quaint living room.

“Due to your family’s impressive display of integrity at the institution’s interview, I would like to extend an offer to enroll Jeon Minji into the prestigious Hwa Yang Academy. Congratulations, and we hope to hear from you soon.” 

[bunnyykoo]

ao3 list pt. 1

here’s my favourite bts fics on ao3 ♡ if you have any of your own recommendations feel free to tell me I would love to hear them ♡ some contain smut so minors do not interact find pt. 2 here…

s- smut a- angst f- fluff

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