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taegularities · 1 year

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colour me in: seven | jjk (m)

Summary: At first, it's an argument that causes the unwanted, childish distance between Jungkook and you. And then… open blazers and a lip ring.

➳ pairing: Jungkook x reader ➳ rating: 18+ ➳ genre: est. rel.; fluff, smut ➳ warnings: an argument, cute couple-y things but also they're dorks n cringe sometimes, seven jk (incl the promo pics, laundromat hoodie bf koo, and drenched in the rain koo!!), fighting over food, they're a bit mean to each other, but they adore each other too, brief mention of a rough childhood, sexual tension, taeun being everything, kissing, dumb jokes, period and pms mention!!, a photoshoot!, subtle hints to the future of the main story :'); explicit sexual content: ahh.. making out, dirty talk, oral (f. & m. receiving), brief spanking, face-fcking, light choking, sweet and rough sex, dom jk, big dick jk, whipped simp jk, petnames, multiple orgasms, sex on the couch n on the floor? :'), he loves her a$$ and tiddies, multiple positions, cockwarming!!, mention of aftercare... the ending lol :D ➳ word count: 25k lmfaoo it's oneshot sized yall 😁 ➳ a/n: hi!! welcome back!! this is part of my series colour me in, but you can read it as a standalone-oneshot!! tysm for supporting me and encouraging me, guys, it means so so much. this is also unbeta'd, so pls go easy on me LOL. and since this was a piece of worrrrk.. come and talk to me about it, it makes my day fr fr <33 ➳ listen to: seven by jungkook | full collaborative playlist 🤍

SERIES MASTERPOST | TAGLIST MASTERLIST | WIPs

In hindsight, your argument was blissfully domestic after all. In hindsight, maybe even comedic.

You’ve seen these things on TV and read about them in novels; didn’t experience them growing up because your parents didn’t really fight over such harmless matters. They never needed to lift a finger in their ultramodern kitchen, filled with up-to-the-minute equipment to fill their table.

But Jungkook and you don’t rely on such luxuries. You do things for yourself. So, such a couple-y, casual life leads to couple-y, casual arguments. Requires it. Fighting is healthy; entangles two souls some more.

Which is exactly where you are now. Exactly what you’ve become: A true unit. Quarrelling over trivial, everyday things.

Just to end up folded in half, holding onto the very last of your sanity, biting back more inappropriate screams.

In regards of making up, you’re perhaps not that casual. Because he’s a relentless, brutal beast.

Wrecking you right where everything began.

Monday

The end of the day begins with a giant hole in the middle of your thoughts.

Your previously whirring brain tossed away all thoughts of advertisements and seasonal launches, vacant and dark until your senses shut down everything that wasn’t vital to survival.

Like the lights of the evening as your car passed the streetlamps. The tired faces on the pedestrian zone, the odd wrinkles in your skirt, or the scent wafting from the kitchen when you step out of your heels.

Your mind operates on reflexes and automatic movements; the ball of your palm rubs against your eyelid, realising too late that you’re probably smearing your eyeliner.

A sense of reality only truly returns when you hear a familiar voice call out your name, muffled through the walls between you.

You exit the bedroom with fingers scratching the nape of your neck, tiny steps floating over the floor and past the living room. On the coffee table, you register one or two dishes. Rice, too. Smells so good, but…

As you reach him in the kitchen, you halt at the threshold, eyes scurrying to the few pots and ladles in the sink. He’s diligent and fast; cleans up when dinner simmers. Minimal work left after the meal.

For a moment, you take in the cleanliness of the kitchen, and when your eyes move up to the man himself, you beam.

He’s wearing an apron – baby blue with little flowers and rainbows imprinted on it. His mom bequeathed him with one of her old ones, and he’s been boasting about it ever since.

You saw one with astronauts, moons and telescopes once; you might purchase it for him at some point, not least of all because it includes all the things the two of you love.

A tattooed hand pushes back his mane, messy and pointing in all directions the way it does after his showers. His fingers card through the fine tresses two more times before he turns towards you — an immediate smile, similar to yours, spreads across his face.

The tiny little dimples over the corners of his mouth distract you for a second until you see his hand at waist level, beckoning you into the kitchen and a greeting, sweet embrace.

Compared to the cold outside, his oversized, full-sleeve, white shirt offers a familiar warmth. He always smells the same, musky and fresh; not like cherry blossoms at all, but he reminds you of their softness.

Mixed with the scent of tonight’s meal, you inhale it all, wrapping your arms around him as your eyes close in exhaustion. If he wasn’t swaying you in his hold, you’d probably fall asleep, right there against his chest.

A kiss to your temple, and he asks, “Hungry?”

You’re not sure. You cuddle into the apron and whatever’s visible of his shirt, and mumble against him, “Not too much… to be honest, I was gonna shower and sleep.”

“Oh?” he wonders immediately, traces of disappointment in his voice. “But I made this for you.”

You smile again. “You did?”

“Yeah.”

“We’ll eat, don’t you worry.” You take a deep breath, and then lift your head off his chest without letting go. “In all honesty. I saw the food outside and thought you had it delivered.”

“So you were gonna waste something you thought was restaurant food?”

You laugh. You’re sure you could see his rosy pout even if you weren’t looking straight at him.

“No. It just looks very good… I would’ve heated it up tomorrow. But since yours was a one-person-effort,” you pat his back in pride, watching as strands of his bangs fall back into his eyes, “we shall eat.”

“And it comes from the heart, too.”

“Right. It comes from the heart, too.”

You rub his back once, soon backing away. There isn’t much to do for you anymore, but you still grab a couple napkins, chopsticks and spoons as he carries some water into the living room.

The couch feels soft, true Heaven, when you sink into it. Your heartbeat slows down, your mind at ease; when you tilt your head, your neck cracks.

But clinking your glasses of water with someone who cherishes you enough to step back and forth in a kitchen for hours… It's a comfort that’s incredibly close to a peaceful night’s sleep.

And it’s worth the effort, too. Despite the conversation and your complaints about work, you can’t help but compliment dinner every other moment. Possibly another endearing habit you picked up from him.

But you slow down when fatigue returns bit by bit, your eye twitching when you feel a well-known tickling in it.

You’re careful of potential spices when you lift your thumb and rub your eye with the back of it, fighting the itch. For a moment, you stop chewing, and Jungkook only lifts his gaze to you when the movement against your eye continues, circling motions.

“Hey,” he says, grasping your wrist, pulling it down slowly, “that’s bad for the cornea.”

“Yeah, I mean. It’s not like my cornea's been nice to me, either.”

You resume chewing, swallowing the mushy remnants of the rice. Your attention falls back to the bowl of food, and your chopsticks aimlessly poke around for a second before he asks, “Why? You okay?”

“Mhm,” you say, nodding gently. “It’s just,” you point to your eyes, chopsticks dangerously close to your face, “that eye thing. It might be an infection or something. It’s so bad today that it’s hurting my head.”

You’ve complained about the issue a couple times — back when it was just an itch, you assumed it was the dusty town, perhaps even sleep deprivation. But the itch has transformed into a relentless pain, moving up your temples and across your forehead.

“Again, yeah?” Jungkook asks, following with a tender gesture of tucking your hair back. The pad of his thumb brushes over your eyebrow. “I’ll massage your head before we go to sleep.”

You sigh in relief, tired eyelids shutting briefly as you claim, “You’re the fucking best, you know?”

“Yeah.” He delivers a nonchalant, drama-esque shrug of his shoulder. Unmistakable smirk. “I guess I do know.”

The giggles from when you started dating still remain. You remember annoying the hell out of your friends back then, high school butterflies visible through your stomachs and in your bright grins.

Jungkook’s ears would redden, a smile even in your eyes. You can imagine how irritating the honeymoon phase felt to them — not that the two of you ever snapped out of it.

Even now, you’re drowning in it.

Well, until you’re not.

Because the moment he slings his arm around you, leaning back, his plate and bowl empty, you move forwards. Place your own dishes onto the table, cuddling further into him.

Only, he seems to interpret it differently.

“Aren’t you eating anymore?”

Not the message you intended to deliver. But perhaps… he’s not wrong after all.

Because…

While the evening ended on a gentle note, much needed, you’re done with today by now. Craving a warm bed, strong arms around you. A sweet, soft sleep.

And the meal is worth a thousand culinary stars, but your appetite keeps dwindling, and hadn’t he put so much effort and affection into all this, you would’ve probably headed straight to bed.

So you answer truthfully, “I can’t eat more…”

“Hmm.” He briefly points to your portion. “You just ate half of it.”

Brief silence. It must’ve gotten late, because among the quieter traffic on the main road afar, you hear a couple nightlife bugs chirping, too.

You look between the bowl and him slowly, blinking, unsure what to say. The arm around your shoulder doesn’t match his tone, so it feels a little awkward now.

You mutter, “I’m sorry.”

Because should you force yourself to scarf all of this down now, you probably won’t be able to sleep.

But Jungkook’s hums and insecure voice are making you feel bad — you know he doesn’t mean to. It’s the puppy-doe nature, a combination of forlorn, soft eyes and pouty words.

“Ah… It’ll go bad by tomorrow, but…” he starts, but you cut in—

“Fridge?”

An immediate shake of his head, a click of his tongue. “Not with that one. I mean, we could, but it’s gonna be all dry and unpalatable in the morning, y’know?”

You don’t fully have a right to be annoyed. Neither of you does. But the day’s been irksome, work a mess, paper sheets flying around — on top of that, you finished your blister pack of birth control last Friday.

The period, probably approaching tomorrow and meddling with your busy schedule, is already putting you in a sour mood.

So the current lack of a solution doesn’t help your drooping eyelids and still partly tumultuous mind.

You push yourself forward on the couch, sighing before you suggest, “Okay. Then I’ll eat.”

“Woah,” he immediately voices, dropping his arm. He attempts to pull the bowl out of your reach, but you grip it tight, swallowing a small bite of rice. “I’m not forcing you to.”

“Yeah, but still.”

Another sigh of frustration falls out of you, your full stomach crying, but you pull the bowl to you, another bite ready between your chopsticks. But a moment later, Jungkook pushes your hand down again, every rice corn falling back to its prior place, fortunately never leaving the bowl.

Unbelieving, you shoot an aghast glare at him, to which he responds, “Don’t force it. Seriously.”

A rice corn still sticks to your lower lip, and you pull it in with the tip of your tongue. You place the warm meal back onto the table, half turning to Jungkook, voicing an irritated, “Dude!”

“You don’t have to,” he assures, but he looks clearly offended. Looks away, rubs his thigh, eyeing every object on the table before he adds quieter than before, “You know… That’s happened a couple times in the last few weeks.”

“…What did?”

“I’d cook for you and you wouldn’t finish it.”

“Babe… The last few weeks have been tiring.”

“I know,” his voice grows higher at the end of the syllable, but then calms again after a sigh. “But we refrigerated a lot of stuff, some of which I shared with Joon or Tae the next day. Or threw away.”

“Nah.” The ridiculing smirk you respond with isn’t intentional. You drop it right away, but still shake your head in disbelief, defending, “You know I eat up most of the time, especially when you cook. Just today, I can’t do more than this, okay?”

He gulps. Two fingers scratch his ear, eyes once again skimming over empty plates or remnant-filled bowls. He drops his digits back to his thighs, rubbing once more, and then puffs out a breath between rounded lips before he comes to a stand.

And then, all he does is nod; shooting a simple, “Alright.”

His tone is stern. You recognise the expression — his eyes still big, but different now. Usually filled with warm sparkles, they look pissed now. Not because of his dropping lids or the missing crinkles.

Jungkook doesn’t need to move a lot of muscles to look angry; the lack of the glimmer is just enough.

His lips are shut, not parted as they usually are when he focuses on something like his art or cooking or cleaning up. He’s exhaling and inhaling deeply through his nose, hands working on the dishes, but the fall and rise of his chest…

“You’re mad,” you conclude.

He looks back at you, the corners of his mouth never moving. His tone remains flat as he tries to convince you, “No. All good.”

Straightening his back, he attempts to walk away, hiding away in the kitchen until you’ve fallen asleep. He and you don’t argue too much — the little, couple-y, casual fights aren’t quite fights at all.

But they do end with a short distance until one is ready to approach the other and communicate again. A good strategy to cool your minds. You wouldn’t wanna discuss such a thing right away.

This time, however, you don’t want him to leave.

You pull him back again, holding onto the cotton shirt, and he protests with a loud call of your name and furrowed eyebrows as you insist, “No, you are mad.”

Your hand pushes against the couch, your body lifting, and you look him in the eye with a frustrated crease between your eyebrows. “Kook, I just am not capable of finishing it right now. You’re making a bigger deal out of it than you sho—”

“Yeah. Okay,” he interrupts, feigning acceptance and understanding, “it’s fine.” You scoff; sometimes, he’s truly as moody as you. “Things are different here, it’s fine.”

…What?

The sentence nearly comes out as a whisper as he finally starts walking away, and you only register it when he’s halfway out of the room. He balances the dishes in both hands, and you follow him to the kitchen.

Ask, “What’s different? Where’s here?”

“I work, too, you know? I get tired, too.”

“Jungkook,” you try again, slamming the hand against the counter; the sound’s muffled by a bright green cleaning cloth. “What are you talking about, things are different here?”

“Just.” He doesn’t seem to wanna talk. Carefully, he places the empty stuff in the wash basin, working on finding containers to dump the leftovers in them. “I get tired from working in the city, too, but I guess I grew up differently.”

…Huh.

You wait.

Let him collect his thoughts until he tells you, “In the countryside, you work for food, so you get used to finishing dinner. I know people around here rely on supermarkets, and honestly, I do, too,” his shoulders rise as he shovels the tofu dish into a box, “and I guess that’s why it makes sense why it’s easier for you to leave leftovers.”

Wow. Some statements in this world you live in are genuinely unfair.

You understood each of his words and lectures perfectly, but you still voice a little, “Huh?”

“Nothing.”

“You’re not being serious.”

“Maybe.”

You blink. Then blink a couple times more. Observe as he closes the boxes and puts them in the fridge with a sigh. And you feel bad, you swear, you do. But that unnecessary turn of events…

“So what, you mean we don’t work for our food, right?” you counter, a hand on your waist. “We might do less physical labour, so that must mean we don’t appreciate what we get, yeah?”

Damn. And what if there’s more to that? What if—

“Or do you think it’s because I’ve always had enough money to not worry?”

Okay. Perhaps a long shot. He didn’t say it, but what if that’s exactly what his thought process was, too?

Your inner panic, invisible on the outside, grows when he doesn’t answer, lips firmly locked as if they didn’t just spew some crisp bullshit. You fold your arms, sucking air through your nose, and then demand, “Apologise.”

And when his eyes lift to yours, you freeze. God, they’re deadly. And his ingenuine laugh even more so as he throws back, “No, you apologise. Especially for assuming things I neither said nor thought of.”

“You were rude. I’m asking you nicely to take it back.”

“As nicely as I cooked for you. World’s in balance again, I guess!”

He throws his hands up, staring at you until he’s passed you by, eyes rolling. His nonchalant, idle movements rile you up more, and you can’t help but participate further in that odd exchange.

“You douchebag,” you call out, shutting the bedroom door as you reach inside, “I’m not a snob. I’d always finish my stuff, you can even ask the cook in my old house. He loved me because I wasn’t a picky eat—”

“Listen,” he interjects again, “I know. It's fine. I’ll sleep,” he points to the bed, “because this tired me out. Just drop it.”

“So you can drop it as you please?”

“Nah, just asking you to rest,” the first word comes out louder than he anticipated, his shrug vexed and vexing. He clears his throat. “And I’m sure you’re tired of this, too.”

You groan.

“And if I want to—”

“It’ll just escalat—”

“Dude, I—”

And once more, he showcases his annoyance when he glares at you from the other side of the bed, shutting you up, blanket already lifted. You anticipate another rude remark, a way of justification or to blurt something he doesn’t mean.

But despite his recent idiocy, you don’t deem him an asshole. Not to you, at least. Which proves right as he takes a breather, one knee hitting the mattress as he finally states—

“Let’s sleep over it, okay?”

The tone still isn’t as peaceful as it could be; you know it’s a tactic to dodge a fight. You might not be on your best domestic side tomorrow yet. But his question is final and his gaze even stricter.

So you reluctantly sigh, eyes still fiery as you breathe, “Fine.”

But it’s not fine. And the turbulent week ahead, filled with chaos for you and peak comedy to others, might just be about to prove it to you.

Tuesday

You chew on your bites until the taste turns bland.

Still distracted from last night’s exchange, you barely register the tart spicy quality of your dinner; a shame because this restaurant is your favourite place to frequent with friends.

Today, you’re toying with your cutlery, catching a glimpse of your grim reflection in the spoon every now and then. Whenever Jungkook’s elbow touches yours, your heart skips a bit, bleeding as much as your eyes want to water.

With how he’s smiling at your friends, appetite never faltering, you could burst into tears — because somewhere inside, you miss him despite the constant proximity.

Perhaps he does, too.

Because you notice when he drifts closer on purpose, casually putting his hand over yours. Seemingly lost in conversations, he rubs his thumb against the soft back of your hand; but when you look at him, you can’t muster a smile just yet.

It’s your ego, your stubbornness. Pieces of you want to stay pissed. You keep your cool, but try to avert your eyes whenever possible.

And when you, obstinate as last night, pull your hand from under his, you register the defeated sigh.

But instead of starting a new topic, he retracts his fingers, putting his arm on his table as he busies his other digits with his meal. When you dare a glance, the pretty curves of his blooming lips tug upwards, listening to Taehyung’s story.

Either hiding the discomfort between you or not feeling it.

Odd, because he’s your constant centre of attention.

“Yeah, I mean. Every job is stressful, you know? But it’s wholesome, too,” Taehyung narrates. You blink the silent pining away, and focus. “Like, one of my patients is an elderly man, a lot weaker than his wife. And she always comes with him, every single time.”

“She just waits for him the entire time?” Jungkook asks.

Next to Taehyung, Eun nods; she’s probably heard the story before.

“I mean, she entertains us, is more like it,” Taehyung explains. “He’s been getting geriatric physiotherapy to regain some strength, so he needs all the motivation he can get. And those two are such… dorks. They bicker all the time.”

You smile. Reminds you of when Jungkook and you first met. Persistent, pointless rivalry.

Perhaps Eun hasn’t heard all of this after all. Because as she cuts her dinner, she asks before stuffing her mouth with a bite, “How so?”

“Like. She’ll tell him to not be a baby and take that last step during gait training.”

From your right, Jungkook’s laugh reverberates like a melody from above, sickeningly sweet and amused. “Sounds like me and you at the gym, doesn’t it?”

Taehyung rolls his eyes, flicking away stray hair with his forefinger, “Yeah, only because you can lift weights that’d break my arms.”

Another chuckle from the side. Even you smile a little.

Your man is strong, alright — and you’ve always admired it, experienced it a couple dozen times.

You’ve yet to see him work out at a proper gym; the home workout sessions barely count.

Ugh. The violent heartbeat beneath your chest picks up on pace again, and you take a deep breath to calm it just a little.

“Anyway,” Taehyung continues, “then she’ll tease him how the neighbour downstairs has much more flexible legs than he does and he’ll argue how she should’ve married him… and then she tells him that she would’ve if she didn’t love his old ass so much.”

When you giggle, covering your chewing mouth behind your hand, he adds, “I swear! It’s the most standard old couple banter if I’ve ever seen one. Thought that stuff only happens on TV.”

Eun, still busy with the remnants of her meal, doesn’t look up but asks, “So they joke around like that? They don’t get mad at each other or anything?”

“They act like they do. Not a sliver of jealousy or anger in them, though. Insane… and adorable. I guess when you’re married long enough, that’s how relationships turn out. And they should, too, you know?”

Hmm…

You side-eye Jungkook for just a moment, but don’t say anything.

You don’t know what’s written in your future. No clue whether he’s a permanent presence in it, a firm part of your fate or not; you strongly hope for an eternity.

You want to picture him and you grey and old. Wrinkled hands, adorned with blue veins holding each other. Weak smiles and crinkles around his eyes, hidden behind glasses, ever-present.

If he’s your future, you hope to laugh about such fights one day. Hope to let people wonder whether you’re actually furious with each other, veiling unbridled affection behind snarky remarks.

Just… right now, you can’t laugh about it just yet. You still feel oddly offended by his words last night, and it doesn’t help when tonight seems to drift towards a similar ending.

Because as you ask for the bill at the end, Jungkook still pays. You don’t think about it too hard, letting him do, staying seated to finish your drinks.

But your exhaustion reaches a new, entirely unnecessary peak when he starts cracking his fingers. On any other day, you’d put a hand over his, reminding him not to and move on.

Today, you’re in a bad mood, and your demands come out accordingly piqued.

“Stop it.”

“Hm?” he voices, looking at you, the warm light of the restaurant reflecting in his dark brown eyes.

“This,” you point to his fingers, “stop that.”

“Why?”

“Because you know it makes me cringe. A bit annoying.”

Eun, still unaware of the tension between him and you, shrugs her shoulders, “I know that irks a lot of people, but I don’t think it’s that bad.”

“Because you do it, too,” Taehyung complains; she mocks him with a sly smirk and a quiet, Yeah, yeah. He adds, “I can’t stand it, either.”

You lift an open palm towards him, nodding, “So you understand.”

“I’ve seen you do it, too,” Eun argues with a light push against his shoulder, “multiple times!”

“But not as often as you. You start and do not stop.”

You immediately agree, “He’s just like that, too!”

To which Jungkook interjects, his voice still calm; but you still hear the growing aggravation in his voice when he starts, “Honestly, I—”

“He actually has a couple habits that are just—”

You blow a raspberry.

Your interruption triggers Jungkook. And your words, admittedly not quite the sweetest, don’t sit well with him, either, because a moment later, he’s leaning forwards again. Looking at you directly before he continues his irritating bone-cracking.

You grit your teeth and repeat, “Stop that.”

“What?” he shoots back. You flinch. “A habit you despise so much, yeah? I don’t get the same intense reaction when I do something nice for you.”

So untrue.

Fucking hell. He’s talking about yesterday again.

You exhale through your nose, possibly resembling a bull ready to attack; Taehyung and Eun shrink in front of you, grimacing at each other. You’d laugh if it wasn’t you trapped in that exasperating back and forth of exchanges.

“Oops,” Eun whispers, yet overshadowed by your words as you defend, “That’s not true.”

“Maybe,” Jungkook says, shrugging a shoulder with an outrageous smirk, “but you never get that angry when I crack them at home.”

“I just don’t say it.”

“Oh? What else do you not say, hm?”

Taehyung dares an attempt, “Guys.”

But you’re too heated, a little stupid, very ridiculous as you spit, “Like, how irritating it is that you smack your lips every other second.”

Jungkook puffs out a breath. Looks to the side, straight into Eun’s direction who sinks a little more. He curls his lower lip in, running his tongue over it, jaw clenched and sharp. If you weren’t so focused on your temper, you’d find it scorching hot.

In a harmless little fight, you’d keep annoying him until he lost it eventually, mounting you and shutting you up in the very tempting Jungkook-esque way he knows.

But not here, not right now.

Instead, he fucks you up further as he sneers, “Right.”

“Or,” you continue, “that you don’t clean up your working space after painting.”

“What?” He furrows his thick eyebrows, ignoring Taehyung’s call of Jungkook’s name. “I mean. You have all your documents scattered on the desk. I might need it, too, y’know?”

“Why don’t you say it then?” you ask, tilting your head with one cocked eyebrow of yours.

“‘Cause I wanna let you work? ‘Cause it’s important for me that you’re able to focus?” He looks away again, tutting; his shoulder moves with his deriding laugh as he mumbles, “The fuck, really.”

Somewhere inside, you feel bad. You know his words are true. But you can’t tell him yet; so you just glare at him.

As silence finally falls upon you, Eun moves towards the table again, glancing between the two of you as she wonders, “What’s wrong with you guys?”

Everything.

“Nothing,” you say.

“…You wanna go?”

You wait. Jungkook doesn’t answer. Looks to the ground. When you don’t respond either, his eyes lift to yours, still big but not as enthusiastic as usual. Intimidating even.

You stay still, so he only voices, “Uh-huh.”

And the couple, enduring your awkward moment, lets you go gladly. You pack up, finishing your drink, and when you leave your table, you notice just how many people were staring at you.

Still are.

You really embarrassed yourself in front of a crowd, huh?

As the daughter of rich parents, owning a huge ass clothing brand, this isn’t something you should’ve done. But you pray and hope that you won’t wake up to a headline, or that journalists won’t interpret your little feud as a reason to break up or some nonsense like that.

Trouble in Heaven, they’d call it. Predictable little cockroaches.

You trudge past the customers with a deep breath in; Jungkook doesn’t seem to care much, because he walks ahead, hands in the pockets of his linen cotton slacks. Doesn’t look around.

Only bids Taehyung and Eun goodbye; tells you to buckle up when the two of you get in your car; curses once or twice when he misses the green light by a second.

And when you’re at home, sighing as the night approaches its end, you shake your head. Unbelievable whatever transpired back at that place. And you thought you were warming up to each other again.

Guess it’s your fault this time.

Which is why you hum when he calls your name, watching you put on your nightwear; bed ready while you still need to take off your makeup.

His question baffles you; more so with the slightly irate tone.

“Will you still give me a good night’s kiss or?”

You roll your eyes. Don’t say anything; grab your skincare products before you get to work.

He sighs once more; you see the shake of his head before you disappear into the bathroom, hear him say, “Whatever.”

But when you come out with a light rosy scent on your skin and jump under your blanket, you still shift towards his slowly drifting body. His arm under his head, eyes closed, lower lip pouting that you target carefully and—

Press the lightest kiss against.

Immediately, you turn around. Imitate his position.

He doesn’t reach out to you as he usually does, pulling you into his arms. But you still feel the petal-soft brush of tender fingers against your arm before the touch retracts again — and eventually, you fall asleep.

WEDNESDAY

The only reason Jungkook accompanied you to the laundromat is because your clothes gathered into a huge mountain. Neglecting your responsibilities at home, you brought two bags, and he insisted on helping you out.

It's late afternoon. Work tired you out, dinner is still pending; you don’t want to be here. And the place is empty; a yawning void. Just you, alone with your tank-top and grey-blue zip up hoodie clad, messy-haired boyfriend.

The retro plastic laundromat seats tired him out, so he’s standing at the far back. His eyes follow the tossing and turning of the clothes in the washing machine, and sometimes, they trail back to you.

And you — you’re sitting in a corner, arms folded, still uncertain whether you should wait for an apology or opt for one yourself.

The distance is childish. You’re way more mature than that.

But your fight is childish, too, and you guess sometimes, even healthy couples fall back into kindergarten routines.

Once the clothes are done and dry, the journey back home approaching, he helps you out. Tramps to you, mutters a little, “Gimme. I’ll take this.”

The bag strap drags his hoodie off his shoulder a little, revealing the flowery tattoo. He doesn’t fix it; lost in thoughts and silent until home. As if he wants to say something, but doesn’t.

In the apartment, he asks, “Dinner or takeout?”

And you, learning and indisputably craving his affection in any shape or form, answer, “We can make dinner.”

“I’ll do it. Get some rest.”

You sigh in relief. There’s solace in your gratitude — today was arduous, much like the preceding days of this week. You bide your time until he’s done, and then help him set the table and clean the kitchen.

The evening passes without any hostility, but ends without many gestures of fondness, too.

THURSDAY

“You don’t need to come, too. I bet you’ve other stuff to do.”

Jungkook adjusts to your steps. He snatched a jacket way too insufficient for the frosty weather, but he won’t hurry if you don’t. Doesn’t stray from your side.

So you walk faster. Then he does, too.

He rubs his nose, shrugs a shoulder and responds, “I’ve nothing much to do today, really.”

“Yeah, but,” you pull at the sleeves of his jacket, urging him to rush through the wind, “you’ll get bored. And I’m a big girl.”

“I know that. But it’ll be fine. Wanna make sure you’re okay, too.”

He nudges your elbow. You can’t pinpoint whether he’s daring an attempt to set things right or is genuinely concerned. Or both. In some way, the tension between you lingers, and you can’t shake off the awkward feeling just yet.

So you only nod, holding off an answer for a moment. Staring ahead, you listen to the soft sounds of the city, blinded by headlights soon passing you by. A bit longer and the first snow will fall.

The consoling feeling of winter days draws closer, feels warm despite the frigid wind. Hot chocolatesque. There’s just something about wool shawls and warm jackets and old, animated Christmas movies.

One thing you miss about living in your parents’ big, fancy house in your very old neighbourhood is the chimney. The soft yellow and orange of the crackling fire, melting the cold over your skin.

Sometimes you’d sit on the fleecy white carpet, protected by a thick, warm turtleneck sweater, watching the dancing flames.

You wonder again — if Jungkook and you are truly written in the stars as one, will you move into a bigger place one day? Save money and expand the comfort of the current apartment, investing in even more soothing walls with a couple little additions.

Not the lush, exaggerated luxury you grew up with. Not necessarily anything snobby.

But casual, domestic things, like a fire side you can sit in front of, drinking tea, slow dancing and giggling in the dark. Lit by the chimney fire; familiarity.

You sigh.

“It’s been long since I went to the dentist, too,” Jungkook then says, and you hum. That’s sudden.

“You should go then.”

“Yeah,” he says, eyes darting from your face to your hands. You unintentionally bury them in the pockets of your jacket the moment he reaches out for you; and when he understands that you didn’t notice, he curls his fingers into fists. “Maybe I can get an appointment now? Do they take walk-ins?”

You furrow your eyebrows. “I don’t know.” Then, upon realisation, you laugh a little and say, “I’m not going to the dentist.”

“What?”

“What?” You stare back with eyes as big as his. “Optometrist, Koo.”

His raised eyelids are nothing new. He’s attentive when it comes to you; recognises, notices and remembers every little thing. But you guess he truly has been tired, too.

And you feel bad for not considering it as much as he considered it. The reason he cooked for you in the first place, right?

You press your lips into a line, stare down to a puddle on the ground; an aftermath of the rain.

“Oh,” he makes, “why did I think we were going to— Sorry. My bad.”

In actuality, you did wonder if he knew. He didn’t ask questions when you told him you were leaving; simply announced he was going with. You were pulling socks over your ankles as his rushing form scurried across the room.

You guessed he’d figured it out. But the fact that he was ready to accompany you without a certain clue where you were heading makes you a little giddy.

Clearing your throat, you clarify, “No worries. It’s about that pain in my eyes. Remember?”

You wouldn’t be mad if he didn’t. Preceding your fight by perhaps a couple minutes, you don’t think the tiny statement still holds any relevance to him anymore.

Right?

Wrong.

“Yeah,” he answers, “yeah, of course. You thought it was an infection.”

“Mhm,” you hum, ignoring the butterfly wing slamming against your insides, “I’m so sure it’s an infection.” You click your tongue. “Itch first, and now it gives me migraines.”

“Yeah, you told me… But. It’s nothing serious, I just know.”

You look at his sculpted side profile.

You know him. Jungkook doesn’t actually know, of course — that’s not why he’s saying that he does.

But because hope is better than pure uncertainty; and he likes trying to manifest. He believes in little miracles like this. Knocks on wood a lot, tries not to voice potential disasters in case they might actually roll around.

So you take the reassurance. Walk to the clinic in silence. Attempt more small talk in the waiting room until they drench your corneas in those odd, blinding eye drops, dilating your pupils.

The brief, quick tests follow; the assistant is young and gentle, and you try your best to be a good patient. She seems to enjoy your temporarily formal behaviour, perfected in the years you grew to be a reputable heir.

You drop it once you’re in the waiting room again, awaiting the final consultation and results.

Jungkook is a restless companion. No matter how irritating, you’re used to the constant swaying and the movements of his legs. One might think he is anxious for you, eyes locking on the head doc’s office door every now and then.

Yet, he wonders, “Are you nervous?”

“Nervous?” you repeat, breathing out a tiny, amused laugh. “Nah. He’s really nice. And it’s just some eye stuff.”

“Well, eyes are important.”

The words come out quickly, but the last syllable dies gradually.

You smile.

Jungkook sometimes reminisces about a time when he’d hide from relatives or eat lunch at the back of class back in elementary school. He tires out the term introvertness, and you repeatedly retort with a certain ambivertness.

At times, he’s loud, flirty, annoying and confident — gives you a hard time believing that he ever averted a girl’s gaze or hid behind his cousins.

But then… there are moments when you see it.

Like now.

The puffy cheeks, the youthful pout, the big, big eyes flashing to the ground. Unsure what to say, unsure what you’re thinking of him.

Until he gulps, keeping his voice quiet and low as he continues, “Have you ever had a private optometrist?”

Huh. Not a question you expected. You guess starting the week with a discussion about wealth makes him think of such things these days.

“Yeah,” you say, shifting in your seat. You can still not see him clearly; his features are blurry, and you squint. “When I was younger. Big, bright places and top notch equipment.”

“Why did you stop?”

“I mean… It's not like usually used equipment, like here, is any worse than theirs. Also, same reason as why I went to a public college. Normalcy, I guess.”

“Odd.”

“…Why?”

“Because,” he draws a sharp breath, staring ahead. “Despite all the normalcy, you’re as extraordinary as can get. Money or not.”

A heartbeat passes. Among the sounds of the quiet chatter around you and the ads in the TV at lowest volume, your breath mingles with the hushed noises like a whisper.

His slowly blinking eyes are genuine, your reflection in his dark brown orbs clear. White dots sparkle like constellations in the sky, bright and plenty. It’s nice that they remind you of the sentimentality in his heart after every single serious or dumb, big or small fight.

For a moment, you keep looking. Your fingers twitch, urging to reach out, but as they start moving off your knee, you hear a call of your name.

Jungkook leans back, clearing his throat, smiles at you as you get to your feet and meet the doctor’s stare, kindly gesturing inside the examination room.

A couple more tests, a friendly conversation, more orders from his side before he gives you a diagnosis and a prescription.

And when you head out, Jungkook’s still sitting right where you left him. One leg restless again, leaning forwards, arms on his thighs and hands intertwined. His head is hanging between his shoulders; even from afar, you see his lashes move, eyes slowly blinking.

You can’t quite explain it, but you love this point of view — when you can see his parted lips, the lower one pillowy, partly hidden behind his button nose. Cheeks round. You truly do love this watching-from-above-angle.

Even though it clearly suggests he’s bored out of his mind. Beyond done with this place, but still here, waiting for you.

You clutch the strap of your bag again, sighing, and then move towards him with light steps. The back of your fingers reaches out then, brushing against his temple a tiny moment before he detects your shoes and looks up.

“Oh. That was fast,” he says; his eyes are drooping. He had a long morning in the attic. “What did he say?”

He gets off the seat, moving his stiff neck and cracking it a little, hand flashing up to his shoulder. You explain, “I need eye drops. Two to three times a day.”

“Ah. Then we could get them right now.”

You nod, allowing a little smile, telling him as you head out, “My eyes are okay, though. Somehow, my vision has improved, too.”

Jungkook’s lips form an excited Oh, but when he sees your expression, he says, “But you seem bummed about it.”

Ah. Well.

You feel ungrateful thinking that way, but…

“In some way?” you admit. “I’d rather have an infection that can be fixed with antibiotics and won’t come back so easily instead of… you know. Having to constantly rely on eye drops. It just sounds so permanent.”

Another deep sigh; you’re exhausted as well. “And I’ll have to remember to use them.”

“Hmm,” he voices, holding the door open for you. He zips his jacket close as you step out; an immediate breath cloud forming when he exhales. “Set an alarm, yeah?”

“Yeah. Just knowing myself…”

“I’ll remind you then.”

The suggestion is immediate, albeit accompanied by a seemingly nonchalant shrug of his shoulder; jacket’s sleeves adorably pulled over his hands.

“Once in the morning. You set an alarm for lunch and then I remind you again when you take your birth control pill at night. Yeah?”

The bitter feeling of the fight vanishes a little; you try to ignore the residual awkwardness, apologies probably still due. But right now, your conversation follows a different path, so you settle on a soft, little, “Thank you, Kook.”

He always does that. Remind you of your meds.

Your vitamins, your pills, that one nose spray hydrating your nose flora to prevent your mucosa from drying out or whatever your ENT doc told you. He did last night, too.

He always does — even if it means forgetting about his own responsibilities.

You blink a couple times, rubbing your eyelids before you admit, “Still hurts. Can barely see… and the streetlamps are so bright?”

“Lemme look.”

He stops in his tracks and you follow; his hand catches your wrist, pulling your fingers away from your eyes, and you turn to him slowly. You’re still attempting to clear your vision, so he orders, “Stop blinking.”

And once you do, he moves in. Takes your face in his already warm hands, staring, squinting, humming. He looks focused, and you raise your eyebrows, waiting for a conclusion until he finally mutters, “Damn.”

“What?”

He seems impressed. Looks a bit longer. You repeat, “What? Are they red? Swollen or something?”

“Nah,” he lets your face go, already stepping back as if dodging your proximity. “But,” he starts; you stare like a puppy, only breaking when he adds, “they’re pretty as fuck.”

Your playful punch rises as if on instinct.

One part of your relationship that never changed was your bicker, starting with annoyance and morphing into frisky, flirty remarks. You consider it the foundation of what makes the two of you a unit.

You grit your teeth, but can’t bite back the smile.

“Dude,” you scold, and he covers his arm instinctively, evading the punch looming over him.

But you don’t deliver it after all, dropping your hand, shaking your head instead. You say, “If you hadn’t helped me survive today, I’d—”

You steer towards him, attempting another scare, and he plays along with a flinch just before he starts laughing again. Hums and nods emphasise his words when he agrees, “You survived like a true champ. A big girl, you said, right?”

“Sure am.”

“Mhm. …My big girl?”

“Gross. Shut up.”

The atmosphere will stay odd for a while. That’s okay, you guess. At least it allows for a bit of amusement, hard to hide as you smile a little, bite your lip.

You lower your head, veiling your beam behind your hair, but you know he sees. Matches your smile — perhaps even a bit brighter than your own.

FRIDAY

The fast approaching weekend usually eases a week’s tension. But considering the mounting workload you tackled today and the endless Saturday you’ll be dealing with very soon, your muscles don’t relax just yet.

Imprisoned behind the bars of work, your thoughts circle around the schedule for tomorrow. In that sense, you come home late and can’t quite bother with the stress that spread throughout the first half of the week.

Jungkook already scarfed down tonight’s dinner, comfortably laying in bed and balancing the laptop on his stomach. From the sound of it, he’s watching videos of various genres.

Sitting on the living room couch and indulging in a short story for just a bit, you hear the enthusiastic voices of chefs rattling down recipes every now and then. It’s a hobby of his, but you can’t help but feel bad.

He studies those YouTube videos to improve his cooking skills, and you, ungratefully, leave the rest of his effort in the goddamn fridge. You sigh.

If you had the energy and will to talk it out, you’d do it now. You couldn’t all day.

He was still asleep when you left, and after work, you went to a brief dinner with a coworker to dash through details for tomorrow. Looking at the plan, you hope for at least a sliver of fun amidst the photoshoot chaos.

When you returned home, Jungkook was gaming right where you’re sitting now. You showered, only to find him back in the bedroom, with his eyes glued to said laptop. And now, as you approach the bed to end the night, he walks past you with falling eyelids.

He rubs them with the back of his tattooed hand, a tired pout on his face contradicting the seemingly badass image that the ink usually gives him. Hard shell, soft core and all.

“Be right ba—,” Jungkook’s hazy voice informs, last syllable broken by a yawn. “Go to bed, okay?”

His palm moves across your upper arm as he passes you by, and you nod, steering towards the inviting, warm mattress. Its surface melts with your body when you drop. God, you’re exhausted; can barely think.

You don’t think it’ll take you particularly long to drift away; and just when your consciousness slips, you feel an arm around you.

A soft hug, enveloping you. He drops his face to yours, lips gently pressing against your cheek for a moment before he adjusts the blanket over the two of you.

A current of warmth courses through your veins, and you draw a deep, long breath of affection when he cuddles into you. He must be thinking you’re asleep but slowly falling out of dreams, because he pulls you in and rubs your arm.

An effective tactic he usually wields to help you fall asleep.

He puts a leg gently over yours, his body so close to yours that you feel bits of the combustion of your heart.

Because…

Despite your stupid feud, you’re kind of happy that he’s joined you under the thin blanket, pressing more featherlight kisses against your scalp. Sighs against it.

And you can’t withhold the smile when he brushes over your clothed tummy and whispers, “My feisty little girl.”

SATURDAY

You remember to unclench your jaw.

The stress hardens your muscles. Your limbs are stiff, eyes unblinking until they dry out. Fingers wrapped around your phone, you hold the device firmly, shutting out the telling vibrations of notifications.

This cannot be.

There are a hundred fires burning around you. Erupted chaos causes panic, and in the middle of it are you, clueless and vexed beyond measure.

It’s one thing cancelling a shoot a couple days before it takes place — and another thing to call sick at the very last moment. You didn’t think the model would ditch you like this… but now that he has, you can’t figure out how to replace the missing piece of the shoot.

Your troubled co-workers call out a dozen names, but you don’t say a word, gazing around with a crease between your eyebrows.

This whole thing needs to be out in the open by Friday, and the photographers and editors need time. So, postponing this to Monday and the release of the ads to another weekend won’t work, right?

No.

You’re at the headquarters of this brand. And you’re one of the organisers of this shoot and project. Every single shop will need to postpone if you do.

Unprofessional. Goes against the schedule.

The complaints are still on full blast when you see a calm movement from the corner of your eye. You move your head to the left, peeking through the glass door, and on the other side awaits—

A wide-eyed man, staring inside, observing the tumult like he’s stepped into the jungle. He’s wearing a white shirt, tucked into jeans, long bangs hanging into his eyes and enhancing the sweet gaze so wonderfully.

Pieces of your stress melts — but you still can’t figure out why he’s standing there.

You walk to the door automatically, throwing a tiny smile when he detects you among the staff. A big hand waves in tiny, and you open to let him in.

“Hey,” you greet, pushing back to where you stood before. He follows. “What are you doing here?”

As you come to a stand, he puts a hand on your waist lightly, drawing close to press a kiss to your temple. Then, he responds, “Picking you up?”

“Wh—”

Oh. Shit.

You were going to go out and celebrate the end of the stressful week. He’d suggested it last weekend because he already knew how hectic today would be.

Ughhhh.

You’re terrible.

Jungkook realises your forgetfulness the moment your expression changes into a guilty one. His curious, innocent look drops with his eyebrows, and he sighs when you say, “I’m sorry, Kook.”

When he stares down at his shoes, you feel a wave of shame; the noise around you fades for just a second as he half sullenly, half disappointedly asks, “Really?”

“I swear… It’s not my fault.”

It’s not an excuse; not a lie.

He looks disheartened; knowing him, stupid argument or not, he was probably looking forward to this. Fuck, you feel bad.

Despite his obvious drop in mood, he doesn’t say anything much. Instead, he nods and assures, “It’s fine. What happened?”

You look around again. From afar, you see a coworker approach. She looks hopeful and you take the crumbs, but you still explain, “Everything should be done by now. We got most of the pictures, but… one of the guys bailed on us.”

“Shit, really? What now?”

You shrug your shoulders, once again racking your brain for a solution. People here are counting on you, but it’s not you who brings the very first somewhat reasonable suggestion of today.

Only somewhat reasonable, though.

Because the coworker approaching ogles at Jungkook like a pirate at a treasure, pupils big and wondering as she suddenly says, “Hold. Did you come up with that?”

You blink.

Then ask, “What?”

“You called him here?”

“What?” you repeat, a confused, little parrott.

She rolls her eyes, “He,” she points at Jungkook with a thumb, “is not allowed in here. Usually. So I assumed you called him as a replacement.” She tilts her head. “And he’s freaking perfect!”

Per—

What? No, no, no. That’s absolutely nothing you planned or permitted.

“No?” Instinctively, you take a step to the side, right in front of his broad shoulders as if to protect him from harm. You argue, “He’s not a model. He’s an artist.”

From behind, you hear, “I’m just an artist.”

“Yeah, but,” she throws back, “you’re art, too. I won’t lie.”

Another step back until your back almost touches his chest. His fingertips graze your hip, as a warning before you stumble over his feet. You can imagine the subtle rosy dust on his cheek; he’s fond of compliments.

As everyone is, you suppose. But.

“Hey, careful,” you tell her, disguising it as a joke, but feeling the lightest burn in your stomach when he laughs at her words.

She raises her pretty lips to a prettier smile, nodding in reassurance as she promises, “Yes, I know he’s taken.”

Another quiet chuckle from behind you, and you cock an eyebrow before he changes the topic and admits, “Seriously, I’m not a model at all and barely know what these things are like…”

To which she waves off his concerns and explains, “Oh, you just need to look good. We’d put some make up and clothes on you, a few pics and we’re done.”

Sounds easy enough. A bit like an insult to actual models, kind of putting those to shame who ran across stages for years to study, internalise and perfect their movements.

But you don’t correct her because you’re desperate, too. And right now, this sounds the easiest.

Still, he murmurs, “I’m not sure.”

“I understand if not,” she says. Her tone changes, fragments of frustration in it. “It’s just that we’re running out of options.”

Once more, you play out the upcoming week mentally. Postponing the last shoot. Postponing the release. Postponing the seasonal launch.

None of this is your fault, but you’d still be the one to get all the wary looks.

As if on cue, Jungkook squeezes your hip, and you look at him with worry painted across your face. You know he sees it immediately, but he still asks, “Is it that bad?”

You nibble at your lip, putting a hand over his as you say, “Yeah. We do need someone.”

“Is that allowed? Can I just replace a guy?”

“I’m technically the boss here, so you’d just need my permission,” you take a breath and then click your tongue, “I mean, usually we’d just reschedule, but we don’t have the time and those shoots already take hours. And in your case, we’d do all the paperwork, contract stuff later.”

“Would it help you?”

He’s considerate. Even in a stressful moment like this, the gentle tone, the deep care makes you weak. The answer’s already clear, but you still tell him, “You don’t have to if you don’t want to. Again, it… might take up to two hours or so.”

“But it’d help you, babe, wouldn’t it? Unless you don’t want me to. Then I won’t.”

You don’t have a single problem with this; in fact, you’d be happy to put him in front of a camera. His genuine thoughtfulness liquefies you — you’re a puddle at this point.

“Oh, I… Jungko—”

Juri intrudes, “I’m sorry,” carefully, she inches closer, nodding over her shoulder, “Just wanna say that we have a lot of designers in our team. They do logos and make the posters and all. Maybe, if they saw you — because the country already knows you as her artistic man from newspapers — they could teach you some digital art stuff.”

“I…” Jungkook starts. He’s probably thinking the same — which he confirms when he adds, “I’m not sure how me modelling for you might relate to artistic stuff. But I already know a lot about digital art.”

Yeah, exactly. Of course he does; what else did he wade through college for throughout these years?

“But,” she lifts a finger, infinite force in one word already, “have you ever tried expensive equipment and all?”

Oh oh. You feel bad.

Is that the group of society you represent? Maybe you guys are a little pretentious after all, dealing and seducing with money.

But he either doesn’t notice or doesn’t dare to challenge her when he steps next to you and says, “I can do it, but not for that digital art offer.” He puts a hand on your back, rubbing lightly and briefly, “For her.”

You fold your arms under your chest; less to show dominance, but more to press against the butterflies. There’s a type of nausea falling in love elicits, deep in your stomach where everything appears so surreal and beautiful that it makes you oddly sick.

The first time your pupils took on their heart shape was the first moment Jungkook practised that effect on you; made you realise what inevitable emotions he was pulling you into.

That effect has not faltered; your guts still twist.

At least, for a couple minutes.

Because the second your coworker-vultures attack him and drag him to the back room, something changes. Nervousness, you guess. You know the clothes that are awaiting him, but stepping out of makeup and into the spotlight leaves you gasping for air.

From afar, he’s leering at you.

Wearing a snow white shirt, tucked into his pants, priorly tousled hair still messy but styled in curls. Yes, you might know your collection — but you didn’t think it’d fit him like second skin.

Why did you doubt it, though? Jungkook could wear a trash bag and still compete against Adonis.

For a moment, he stands still, entangling his fingers, looking around. Then, he’s smiling in uncertainty, awkwardly putting his hands on his tiny waist, waiting for directions.

Juri tip-toes towards you, as if you’re filming a scene in a drama. She pulls the clipboard to her chest, one digit pointing to your struggling man before she says, “He’s adorable.”

You nod. “I wonder how he’ll do.”

“Well, yeah,” she murmurs, half distracted; but then she averts her eyes from him, looking from your nervous lips up to your furrowed eyebrows before she assures, “Worst case scenario, we’ll postpone. End of story. At least we tried.”

“Hmm… Well, let’s hope it won’t be that case.”

Which, you soon realise, it certainly isn’t.

A couple professional suggestions by the director and Jungkook gets into position. The initial movements of his hands and body are a little strange and awkward, and you can’t help but want to pull him from this chaos and wrap him in a fuzzy blanket.

But the seemingly feigned adorable stance soon shifts into something unexpectedly dangerous when he raises his chin. Thumbs in the pockets of his jeans, he relaxes his body, lips suddenly forming a tempting, slight pout.

He doesn’t usually look like that…

“Wow,” you whisper, faintly registering Juri’s fascinated nod from the side.

This is still a harmless pose, you think; one the director dared him to do. But you’re surprised by the sudden confidence, the way Jungkook doesn’t fumble or stutter or question anything.

Some of his softness shines through the moment the photographer gives a thumbs up, a tattooed hand cracking the fingers of the others. Doe eyes back, he leans forwards as if he could peek at the pictures like that, asking cautiously, “That okay?”

He looks different. Why does he look different?

“That was great! Perfect start. I promise the rest is just as easy,” the team encourages him, asking him to monitor the pictures they just took.

Jungkook walks to the strangers in slow steps, chest behind the tight, white top heaving once. On his way, he looks up to you instinctively, throwing the same thumbs up at you with a questioning gaze.

And you, still baffled, smile.

Watch as he converses with the people, his grin wide when he likes what he sees — an instant confidence boost, though you still see the nervousness in his stance. Where was any of it when they clicked the photos?

As if a demon possessed him for just a minute. Dual and dangerous.

Then again, he’s not very different in your daily life. A celestial soul on some days, catering to your every whim, never letting your feet touch the ground.

And a beast on others, inhaling your sounds like a starving incubus, never heaving your body off the mattress.

The duality doesn’t disappear with this very first outfit.

When some music starts playing and they tell him to move freely, filming the sequences for the ads, your eyeballs nearly fall out of your eyes. And you finally realise why he looks so different now.

Because the moment his thumb touches his lower lip, mimicking a wiping motion (much like he does after kissing you sometimes), you see the silver-plated jewellery glimmering from all the way from the set.

Lip ring.

Whose idea…

“What did you do back there?” you ask, near-panicking, your heart dropping into your panties.

Juri flinches, asking, “What?”

“Is that a lip ring? You gave him a—”

You puff out a breath; it’s immensely difficult to be mad at him like this. He’s been looking…

“Shouldn’t we have?” her tiny voice asks; her body shrinks a little.

“I mean. I just. It wasn’t planned.”

“Yeah, but look how amazing he looks.”

You’re seeing it, alright.

The subtle touches, the light tugging at his shirt. Movements just right. He looks all serious, like a beast, hotter than motherfucking hell. Transports your saliva into your windpipe with each look he sports.

Until you actually feel yourself choking and gagging once he leaves and comes back for the next shoot twenty minutes later.

Because why on Earth did they omit the shirt under the grey blazer?

You’re close to dashing to costume and makeup, confronting them to ask why they chose to toy with your sanity like this. Because… the lip ring is still there. His hair is suddenly slicked back. Fingers adorned with rings.

And he looks so goddamn good.

Maybe it’s your fault. You told them you trusted them, and that they were supposed to do as they pleased. And they are… they so are.

All of him, like a strong magnet, pulls you in, but you keep your feet firmly on your spot, cementing yourself in place. There’s something incredibly attractive about the way he presents himself — new, talented.

You’re fidgety, a sexually frustrated observer when he touches his jacket, pulling it open just a little. The inked hand is veiny; you see it from here, too. The light gesture allows glimpses of his chest.

Small, perked, brown nipples. Lines and ripples of his abs firm. Ending in his V-line, hidden behind the peeking underwear and blue, baggy jeans.

Heavy chains are already menacing when he shuts his eyelids and parts his lips. Worse when he leans forwards, hazy eyes staring into the camera as if he’s about to devour the camerawoman.

Jeon Jungkook is a hazardous danger to society. The world will want him — and he’ll only want you.

Fuck.

You’re drooling. Drowning in your own puddle. Crossing your legs.

And when they tell him to sit, ordering to open the button of his jeans and push it down his hips just a bit, the little yous in your brain wreak havoc.

A fire starts in the organised office of your mind, red sirens blaring, and you look at Juri as you ask, “Why is he naked?! Why’s the blazer off his shoulder?!!”

“Because,” she defends, hiding behind the clipboard; it’s not her fault. That’s what the other model would’ve done, too. “Underwear ads!”

You’re aware. You just didn’t think it’d be Jungkook ending up in this position. Perhaps you didn’t think it through; didn’t know what it’d do to you.

But his effect pools in your lower stomach; so intense, you might cry.

“What the fuck,” you mumble when he takes the jacket off, sitting up and improvising all of a sudden. A hand covers his mouth, the blazer thrown over his shoulder. “What’s the point of holding it? He’s not even wearing it.”

“Because,” she starts again, “we’re focusing on the underwear.” Where’s the focus on the underwear? You can barely see it. Are people plotting against you? “It’s okay.” She pats your shoulder. “No one’s gonna touch him, love.”

You bite your lip. You know.

You aren’t distressed because you’re mad. But because knowing that everybody will crave him and nobody will get him turns you on more.

The fact that you’re the only one he’ll look at with those starry eyes; with the hunger in his gaze. The only one he’ll press into your bed, lips close to your ears, whispering endearments and filthy, little promises.

This man wants you, and you can barely handle that truth.

New thoughts and ideas form in your mind, too wild and desperate to be occurring right in this moment. So you mentally whoosh them away, holding on for the rest of the neverending shoot until a round of genuine applause sounds around the big set.

God. Okay. Hours of torture later, and he’s done.

A shy bow. No. This monster might convince anyone else, but you know he’s not as innocent as he gives himself.

He jogs over to you, says quietly enough for only you to hear, “Don’t tell them, but that was great.” You can imagine. He backs away, looks down to his defined abs, “I need to change. And then we can head home, they said.”

You blink, perplexed and still out of words. Which he struggles to interpret, looking over his shoulder and then back to you. Unsure, he adds, “Unless you need to wrap things up.”

When a random shout echoes through the room, you awake, inhaling deeply before you tell him, “No, I. I mean, yeah, we’ll wrap things up, but that shouldn’t take too long. Should be mostly done when you are.”

He nods. Waves, and then steers towards the others, shaking hands and exchanging smiles. Short convos. Then, to the back room.

You’re too out of your mind and tired to chat much with staff. You go through the next steps, talk about waiting for the editor to be done with the photos, list the leftover things on your to-do list before the winter launch.

And that’s it. You meet Jungkook at the exit to the hallway, relieved when the end of the day approaches. On your way back home, you converse lightly, though he stops when you yawn one too many times.

He lets you rest as you pass shops and traffic lights, and holds your hand when you get off the vehicle. Drags you up the stairs; the climb is arduous. And then allows you to get ready for your slumber in peace.

The second the back of your head collides with the cold pillow, your eyes drop shut. The world spins behind your tired eyelids, adjusting to the darkness and the silence.

A sigh of relief pushes out of your mouth; a profound sense of tranquillity calms your lit nerves. Jungkook, next to you, seems just as exhausted because the yawn as soon as he slips under the covers is long and tear-inducing.

He’s blinking away the dampness of fatigue when you look over to him; you haven’t talked much since you arrived home, but Jungkook uses the moment to say, “I had a lot more fun than I expected to have.”

You’re so incredibly thankful for his last-minute rescue. But you can’t help but think of the muscles and expressions an hour prior. The seductive gaze, the lip accessory, the ring-clad fingers.

Perhaps it’s because of the time of the month, but you feel vexed by how affected you feel.

You control your tone, though the word still sounds monotone when you say, “Good.”

Catching upon it immediately, he shifts slowly, sniffling and head propping up on his hand before he asks, “Did you not like it?”

“Oh no, I mean,” you start, “you were amazing. I just didn’t know they’d send you out naked for the world to see. Thought the plan was to close a couple buttons.”

“The stylists told me. I think it was a spontaneous change because—”

You glance at him when he hesitates. A sly smile spreads across his features, just a little guilty yet amused as he watches your curiosity grow.

“What?” you ask.

“Nevermind.”

“Don’t be mean.”

“It’s nothing!” he exclaims. “We just thought it’d look cool. I thought you’d like it, too, actually.”

You did. That’s the issue. You liked it enough for it to burn into your mind, and now you can’t shake the image anymore.

No matter how many times you’ve seen him butt naked, buried inside you without a gap between your skin — something about his confidence and eyes stirred an unknown level of desire in you.

But you can’t tell him. Because the thing you want won’t be possible right now. You keep your thoughts veiled.

Instead, you unleash your annoyance because God, you hate him for being so hot.

“Right,” is all you say.

“Hey, don’t worry. Even if they ask, I’m not doing this again.”

“Might make you famous, though,” you mumble.

He snorts, fingers sneaking to your tummy, “So what? That’s not my profession. I didn’t study to become a model. Will work on my actual efforts.”

“Okay.”

The single word forces a sigh out of him, and he shakes his head, tapping his fingers against your stomach as he whispers your name thrice. Like he’s scolding you.

And then, “Are you jealous?”

“No,” you spit without hesitation, “of whom?”

You’re not. And you know that just for the moment, he won’t believe you. Which is fine. You’ll tell him the truth once your period’s over for the month.

“Of people who might see me and like what they see.”

Okay. Jerk.

At this point, he is doing it on purpose. You see it in the cocky smile and the jesting tone and the way his fingertips draw circles over your shirt, itching to sneak underneath the fabric.

You know him.

He’s so annoying.

“No,” you repeat.

“You sure? Huh?” Fuck, not that sulky voice. You close your eyes, but he raises your chin, making your head move. “Look at me, angel.”

“Hmm?”

“You said no, but you do look a little fiery,” he tells you. Yeah, if he knew that the real reason doesn’t lie in envy or whatever the world thinks of him. “What? My girl is jealous of people I won’t even perceive?”

No.

But she does feel the tickling, flattering lust pooling in her lower stomach, Jeon, thank you very much.

“Jungkook,” you start, although breathier when he moves closer, towards your neck. “Don’t be annoying.”

Which triggers a slightly mocking tone; he tuts before he says, “Baby bails on our date today. Will fight me in a restaurant. And then I’m annoying?”

Your answer is immediate and as shameless as can be.

“Yes.”

And it makes him laugh. Hot and sudden against your skin, his breath makes you shiver more than the relentless cold outside ever could.

“Not gonna lie,” he begins, “that brat behaviour isn’t too terrible.”

“Shut the fuck up, you just—”

He just what? You don’t know. Your sentence floats between you when his nose raises your chin, freeing the path to your neck before he’s nuzzling it slowly.

You feel goosebumps at the back of your neck, hair standing up, tingles across your body where you didn’t deem them possible. Under the blanket, your legs shift, and he hurries to move one of his between yours.

Hand still on your shirt, he places a barely-there, soft kiss to your neck; his fine tresses tickle your face and you crumble.

You have long forgotten your unfinished sentence, but he hasn’t. Asks, “What?”

You bury your nails into his arm, intrigued by the little hiss followed by a subtle laugh. Growing in volume when you say, “I kinda hate you right now.”

“Oh yeah,” he agrees, stretching the second word, “I hate you, too. Absolutely loathe you.”

You silence. Hold onto him when he French kisses between your neck and shoulder. And then breathe, “Then go away.”

“Mhh. Maybe I should.”

“Maybe…”

And then, out of the blue, his teeth dig into your neck like a gentle vampire, stopping immediately when you wince desperately. A hot tongue soothes the bite, a strong hand pushing you down by your shoulder again when your body lifts off the bed just a bit.

He keeps you in place, moving to your jaw. And when you whimper in lust and want, navigating his leg closer to your core, he curses, “Fucking hell, babe.”

Then, he’s inhaling, fingers wandering from your shoulder to your wrist as lips finally clash.

His body moves half onto yours, slowly gauging your reaction to the kiss as if he’s still expecting the burst of cumulated emotions. But when you give into his gesture, granting him your tongue, his face moves further against yours.

Undecided fingers let your wrist go, getting ahold of a patch of your hair. You hold his arms again until you wrap yours around him, fingers on the nape of his neck as you pull him in.

You tilt your heads in unison, deepening the kiss, drinking him up. Let him open your lips with his, keeping them like that, tips of your tongues playing with each other.

His touch drops to your waist and down to your pyjamas, pushing them down a little, grazing your panties. But then, his teasing palm floats up again and settles over one of your tits, squeezing once and drawing a telling moan out of you.

No bra.

He loves your little habits. You live through them casually, never noticing how badly they empty his mind.

Seems your head is blanking just as much at his touches; because you look delirious, lost, breathing in and out heavily. Jungkook basks in the expression, pushing a hand to your neck.

And only when he presses in gently, trapping you in place, do you seem to wake.

Eyes shoot open, and you inhale deeply, as if saved from drowning; remember every bit of today. The lines of his abs. The lip ring. The jewellery on his fingers.

You could ask for him to go on, to wreck you thoroughly. But of all arguments stopping you from doing so, there’s one damn reason that asks to prevent the mess.

Fucking period. Would create a literal bloody chaos. And you’re exhausted.

The thing is — if you asked him, you know he’d give it to you.

He’s reckless and careless. But you can’t risk the state of your sheets and the state of your mind. You have more work to do tomorrow; also, if you continued now, you’d be tired and immobile tomorrow, you know — and you need to be awake for this.

Fully in your senses.

Ugh. Fuck.

And the last damn day of the red waterfall, too. Thinking about it, perhaps that’s the reason for your agitation this week.

In hindsight, you know you’re never bitchy like that — he didn’t give you the nickname of an angel for nothing, right? Fuck PMS. Fuck mood swings.

Your poor boy, enduring the wrath of it.

But maybe you need to act pissed just a bit longer because—

“What?” he asks.

It’s not the time. So you stop him, pushing him away lightly. Shake your head, calling forth a crease between your eyebrows, turning away just a bit.

He falls back, once again keeping his upper body up by his arm. Inquires, “I— are you still mad?”

Truthfully, you answer flatly, “I’m on my period.”

“So?” he answers, laughing until he sees your lips, pressed into a serious line. “I’m not scared of some blood.”

You knew it. He’d give in if you told him to.

But what you want can’t be received during this time of the month. What you want requires unhinged chaos, carelessness, breathlessness. Craze of many minutes, hours.

You want more than a short, cautious session that asks you to peek at the sheets and the towel you’d get every now and then. You want to fucking lose yourself in hi—

“Let’s not,” you answer, your tone nonchalant, “Just. Let’s go to sleep, alright?”

He murmurs your name, trying again; but when you turn on your belly, giving a last sign to end the night, you hear him groan quietly.

You grimace when his head falls onto the pillow with an angry thump, movements under the blanket agitated as he scolds, “My God. Alright. You wanna be pissed for an entire week, then be pissed. I can’t do more than that.”

Oof.

If he only knew. And something in you tells you that he will very soon.

SUNDAY

Too lazy to work through the preparation process in the kitchen, Jungkook and you quietly decide to spend lunch outside.

The café nearby is a place you’ve wanted to visit for quite some time now. And despite the flaky, dry sandwiches they served, you’re glad time passed quickly, the awkward conversations between you coming to an end.

When you return from the bathroom, the sky above looks grey. Desolate. The weather forecast predicted a surprisingly pleasant late fall day, but the approaching rain is obvious. Which, you anticipated more than the weather forecast did, really.

That’s why an umbrella is leaning against the leg of the table, and you grab it as you watch Jungkook fumble with his wallet, stuffing it into his back pocket.

He gulps down the last sip of his Matcha Latte, dimples above the corner of his lips as he smacks the taste away. Then, he gets to his feet, asks, “Ready to go?”

Absent-mindedly, you nod, glancing to the sky and then back to him again. He looks sweet and domestic; but you can’t quite take him seriously. Not necessarily because of the fight anymore.

It’s been far too many days to still dwell.

But because of the damn lip ring, the open jacket, the gelled back hair. His destructive expressions. Like he could devour you whole.

Jungkook doesn’t stay angry for a long time, you’ve noticed. He always tells you how his temper used to be worse as a teenager, but how he’s learned to control himself.

Agonies of childhood, relationships and friendships taught him patience. And you notice. You truly notice.

Because he hands you your purse sweetly, immediately stretching his palm towards you. A slight smile spreads across his face, and you respond with a weak one of yours. Take his hand and let him lead you home.

You’ll walk the short distance; it shouldn’t take longer than seven or eight minutes.

And as you approach home, the hand holding yours mimics the motions of the one gripping the umbrella — he brings both arms into swing, somewhat euphoric but casual when he says, “The food was so dry there.”

It’s odd, talking to him like that after several days again. But you nod slowly, and agree, “I know. But at least we know where not to go anymore.”

“Yeah. But I mean, great beverages.”

“The milkshake, too.”

He tugs you a little closer, elbows soon touching, “I still think you should’ve gotten something warmer. You get a cold fast,” he looks up with squinted eyes, “and it’s already chilly today.”

You squeeze his hand as a thank you; Jungkook cares for you in little, subtle ways, and you’d lie if you said you didn’t think of it every now and then. You answer, “I feel fine, though.”

“Okay. Hope that stays.”

His palm, soft in yours, shifts until he’s intertwining his fingers with yours, attempting a stronger grip. You lift your eyes from the ground to his face for a second, meeting a gentle smile, and feel more pieces of your heart split.

They wander through your body, along your arm and straight into his chest, merging with his own organ. If you could, you’d push him against one of the unlit lamp posts, parted lips opting for his, breathing into his mouth.

He infested your thoughts and stuck with you, no way to escape the moment you first fell for him. And somehow, he managed to keep this effect intact, digging deeper into your mind and making himself home every damn second of the day.

The desire you’ve been feeling doesn’t just stem from lip rings and talent behind the camera. But you also keep realising that you’re truly this man’s, and that this man is truly yours.

A hard truth to fathom when you’re the subject of interest to one unique Jeon Jungkook.

But you want all of him. Want him over you, around you, taking all of what no other guy will ever be allowed to touch. Want him to show you once again where you belong and that you’re in this for as long as his affection is aligned with yours.

Fuck. Home is too far away.

So you look away from him. Which he interprets in an entirely wrong way.

“Are you still mad at me?” he asks, an inquiry out of nowhere that has your eyebrows kissing.

“No,” you answer.

“You barely talk to me. And,” he halts to wipe away a raindrop. Guess the clouds are gathering. “And I miss you.”

Your ribs might break. He keeps doing this to you.

“I’m not mad, Kook. Was just PMS-ing before,” you try again, adding a nickname for good measure.

“You sure?”

Jungkook is a free-spirited soul, careless to a healthy degree most of the time. There are only a few things that break his composure; familial insecurities, shitty pasts — and then there’s you.

Topping his list of priorities, you’re the only aspect in his current life that pushes him into spirals of overthinking.

And right now, he’s in the middle one, requiring a thousand reassurances. You want to answer. You really do.

But the distraction from above proves too strong the second you open your mouth. In the middle of your walk, the clouds explode, roaring for a moment before a downpour suddenly showers onto you.

The raindrops are thick, the bursting clouds aggressive.

Instinctively, Jungkook opens the umbrella, hastily working on it, and once under it, your steps pick up on pace. You wrap an arm around your body, closing the jacket, hooking your other arm with his and pushing the two of you forward.

“Shit,” you say; you look up, but can barely see anything. Only hear the thunder.

The wind grows colder, grazing the skin of your face incessantly. Despite the umbrella, the merciless rain wets your cheeks, singular drops flying towards you. Jungkook’s hair covers his face, and he shakes them off his eyes.

You gasp when a literal newspaper flies past you.

“Come on,” you encourage, already shivering. “We can talk about it at home, okay?”

But surprisingly, incredibly lost in his own head, he doesn’t give in. He adjusts to your pace, holding the umbrella in a strong grip, sighs and argues, “We can talk about it anytime.”

“Not now.”

“But—”

“Kook, right now’s not the time for this.”

Holy shit.

This man is a phenomenon. And you wish he wasn’t serious, but you know that he is. A full-on simp-y fool, no matter what.

“You’ve avoided me all week,” he yells over the sounds of the rain, sniffling, looking at the storm ahead, “we won’t die. It’s just rain.”

“It’s a thunderstorm, you idiot!” you exclaim back, moving straight forward and past running passengers. You should be home soon. “And in a minute we won’t be able to see shit.”

Jungkook must be made of cement. Broad shoulders, a well-trained body and willpower seem to combat the storm when he suddenly halts in his steps.

Immediately, you grab the umbrella, keeping it from nearly flying away; and when you remain the only presence under it, you ogle back. Watch him stand there in his red-white jacket, getting soaked by Mother Nature.

What the fuck.

You rush back, grabbing his wrist, pulling him forward as much as you can as you reprimand, “What the hell are you doing? Come on.”

“You’ll talk to me if I do?”

“Jungkook, we’ll die here, I—”

You flinch and gasp when another strong wind blows, once and for all ripping the umbrella off your hand and making it fly a couple feet from you. You watch it break through the fog of rain, mouth wide open with a dozen curses on your tongue.

“Fuck,” you exclaim, gritting your teeth, “I will. Just please, okay?!”

He’s so annoying. The way he looks at you, breathing hard, white shirt drenched and sticking to his body. You tug at his arm, forcing him to run when you do.

It takes you two entire minutes, wordless as you wish them to be, to reach his street and apartment. You tremble in the hallways, rushing up the stairs, and eventually take a seconds-long breath when you step into the flat.

It’s cold. So cold — and you had your jacket protecting your shirt. Your jeans and hair are soaked, your socks a sponge, soaked in a couple millilitres of water.

But it’s relieving when you take the jacket and your jeans off, pulling out the oversized, wrinkled shirt from under your pants, covering half your thighs. Jungkook slips out of his boots and rushes for a towel, approaching your heaving form at the door to dry your hair.

You quiver for a couple more minutes, fearing an approaching cold after all. But once settled on the couch, indulging in the comfort of thick joggers and a fresh cotton shirt, you sigh.

The silence still holding on only breaks when you drop your head back on the couch. A warm hand sneaks to your cheek, and when you open your eyes, he asks, “Are you okay?”

“Warming up…” You lean into the touch, though still irritated by his behaviour before. “Thought it’d rain, but that was a surprise.”

“Yeah.” A pause. And then, “Was a little romantic, too.”

Unbelievable.

You roll your eyes at him, head tilting, tongue prodding against the inside of his cheek. Perhaps he’s joking. The goofy smile suggests that he is.

“Was it, yeah? You just—”

You click your tongue. Think back to him nearly offering his soul to Zeus just a couple minutes ago. Standing in the heavy rain as if he was the lead character in The Notebook.

“Don’t be mad now. I’m kidding,” he says. His voice isn’t as soft anymore; frustrated when he tries again, “Talk to me. What’s the problem?”

“Seriously? I told you there’s nothing.”

“Nah, cut that bullshit. You haven’t talked to me or properly touched me all week. I’m trying my fucking best.”

“I know. This isn’t what it’s about,” you defend, shaking your head, getting to your feet, “but about that insane little stunt out there.”

And the fact that he’s been driving you crazy. The week’s distress mixed with whatever he made you feel yesterday; today’s insanity further adding to it.

When he doesn’t speak, you sigh, waving it off, and opt to walk away. But all in vain.

You make it two steps away from the couch before he flashes up, too; filmesque, you gasp at the strong grip around your elbow, getting a tiny second to process the situation before he’s twirled you around.

He probably didn’t intend it, but you nearly clash against him, stupidly losing your balance and stumbling over his and your own feet. You put a hand to your temples, fearing the worst — what if you fall and clash against the corner of your glass table?

But no. In slow motion, he keeps you in his firm hold, preventing the fall, but still letting you gently drop onto the fluffy, white carpet. Your investment. You’re happy about it now because it caught you the way the wooden floor wouldn’t.

Your movements towards the grounds are slow — or at least that’s what they feel like. But when he appears above you, pinning your wrists to the carpet hard, he’s breathless; and you think that maybe the fall didn’t happen as slowly after all.

“Okay,” he says through gritted teeth. From down here, his jaw looks as sharp as a ship’s deck, the Adam’s apple bobbing when he challenges, “You’re gonna fucking tell me what’s going on.”

Oh. He’s mad.

His eyes are burning, jaw flexed. Defined chest rising in anger.

There’s nothing going on. At least nothing that warrants another fight.

But you don’t tell him that just yet. Instead, all your perplexed mind and tongue manage is, “What?”

“I forgave you. We were both shitty that day, you know? But I still did forgive you, and you’re still being like that.” His knuckles must be paling, because his grip is iron hard. “Why?”

“I—”

“I’ll apologise if that’s what you want. I did, actually. I’m sorry, okay? There. But this is just,” fingers squeeze your wrists, and you hiss, “ridiculous.”

Your following grimace, lips twitching, eyes squinting, go through to him immediately. The hold doesn’t hurt or bother you too much, but the leg between your knees does. Jungkook wouldn’t wound you; he knows his limits.

But perhaps he thinks he’s going overboard when he loosens his fingers, pressing his palms against your skin, rubbing to soothe the missing pain.

He doesn’t quite move away, though, still stubborn when you assure once again, “I’m not mad at you anymore.”

“So you keep saying.”

“I’m not,” you tell him, heart racing at the proximity. You close your legs around his knee, irritated by the barrier. “I promise.”

He doesn’t give your gesture much attention just yet; doesn’t know that his body over yours is exactly what you’ve been craving. But he does understand the sincerity in your voice. Finally.

When he moves closer, pupils melting to fluid gems, you let out an intentional, teeny tiny moan that you’re sure he confuses for a relieved sigh. He moves his palms onto the carpet, caging you in; you keep your wrists where they are, but dig your nails into your skin.

You want to kiss him so badly. You miss him so much.

“Then tell me what’s wrong, angel,” he demands again, quieter and softer this time.

“I don’t know.”

With the fury evaporating bit by bit, his eyes look bigger and rounder again. The desperation of the week gathers in them and his expression, shooting all the way down to his tongue; and when he whispers to you next, your heart collapses, “Please?”

He’s sweet… so utterly oblivious to your true thoughts.

But you couldn’t feel more embarrassed about the pictures you’ve been painting and the words ghosting in that mind of yours. He’d do all of it, no questions asked. But… fuck.

“This is so dumb,” you answer, fingertips dragging down the carpet and then up to his waist, “like… you’ll laugh.”

The touch encourages him. His arms are shaking now, holding him up in this position for too long, and the wandering fingers along his sides and chest must weaken him like his lines affect you.

“That’s a good thing,” he answers, closer than ever when he balances his weight on his arms now, forearms touching the carpet. “I’d rather laugh than fight.”

But the closeness remains for mere seconds before he pulls back again, sitting up with a groan. Hands on his thighs, he lets himself fall on bended knees. He watches your still helpless body on the floor until you work on getting off the carpet, letting him pull you up when he offers a hand.

You ruffle through your hair, legs folding. Your pout is more directed towards yourself than anyone else; you totally realise you didn’t need to confuse him the way you did. Stupid period.

“Listen, I just…” you start, scraping your scalp.

His knees bump against your legs when he drifts closer; there’s something about the two of you sitting on your living room carpet like this.

“It’s just that I want to be able to walk tomorrow.”

And that’s it. That’s literally it.

He halts. His hand was moving up, probably to touch your face, your hair, anything soft to ease the mood. But he cancels the tender gesture, fingers falling back to his knee when he absorbs your words.

Silences with cocked eyebrows. Processes the way you lick your lips and look away, tugging at his wide shirt. And then, once he’s understood, he tsks. Chuckles.

And you, immediately on guard, push lightly against his shoulder, unsurprised when he doesn’t buckle, and defend, “Told you you’d laugh!”

“No, but,” he says, sweet crinkles around his eyes, head tilting and bunny teeth giving way to the prettiest smile in existence, “what are you talking about, hm?”

He knows. If only his feigned innocence was as sweet as his grin, too.

Still, you opt to clarify, “That thing you did yesterday.”

“What thing?”

Ugh.

“The whole modelling thing!” you exclaim, raising your hands. His beam reaches up to his eyes; his occasional giggles are killing you. “Stop. Do you have any clue what you looked like?”

He has the audacity to shrug. “They let me see the pics on their cameras. They’ll come out well.”

“Well? Dude, you looked…”

“What?”

“Dangerous. Like you could eat me up.”

Eat me up might be accurate. It’s the description floating through your little mind since yesterday.

“Ah,” he says, nodding smugly. You know he’s about to tease you. Because— “You specifically, yeah? I was just doing what they told me to.”

“What, is me specifically wrong? Anyone else you’d wanna eat up or—”

“You’re really fixating on that, huh?” Jungkook snickers. His tongue pokes the inside of his right cheek in a brief pause, and then he adds, “You’ve got a point. Didn’t think it’d affect you, though.”

Slowly, but surely, he seems to grasp his own power over you. You think he’s reminiscing about yesterday’s chaos and confidence; maybe even viewing it all from your point of view.

Because his smirk, albeit subtle, is sly when he asks, “What was it like?”

“I…” You click your tongue. “You’ll take me apart if I tell you.”

“Why so?”

“Because.” A beat of silence. You swallow to wet your throat. Then. “I’d ask you to.”

“Ah…” Another understanding nod, as though you’re lecturing him on NASA’s rocket science and he’s finally grasping its meaning. “Yeah?”

“I saw you from afar,” you point into a direction arbitrarily, as if he’s still several feet from you and not mere inches, “and I wanted to,” you inhale when a finger reaches out, straight to a vein in your neck, gentle, exploring, “let you do anything with me that you wanted to.”

“Ohh.” His palm covers your neck, as if he’s coddling you. But you know what that touch will morph into, so you sneak closer to him, lean forwards. “Anything?”

“Anything.”

“…Right.”

His thumb moves up and rubs under your jaw, then up your face and to your lower lip. The touch is soft and careful, as though gauging your reaction and searching for permission.

Your shaky, little exhale is nearly unnoticeable, but you know he catches it, and you know he already sees the consent in your eyes. But he still doesn’t lean in. Moves his eyes across your face, to his hand, to your neck and then all the way back to your gaze.

And then, contrasting the loving movements and affectionate gesture, he smiles. Mischief spreads in his stare, and his fingers retreat to the back of your neck, pulling you closer by a miniscule inch.

“So that’s what it was all this time? You’re on your knees for me, is that it?”

“Babe…” You look down, daring a joke. “Quite literally.”

You shuffle in your spot when he laughs quietly, hooking your fingers into the neckline of his shirt. You emphasise, “I mean it. Just… If you must know? I would’ve been okay with handing you all the control, okay? All of it.”

You’re aware you’re acting as though he doesn’t wreck your shit every other time, too. In fact, that’s probably how the two of you started out.

His absolute craze at the frat party, drunk. College nights when you’d confront him about your bullshit — weak excuses to make him press you against his dorm walls. A hand clapped over your mouth, your ass out, dick buried inside until you felt him in your guts—

You’ve always been at his mercy — but you want him to split you in half this time.

“You would’ve?” he repeats. “And now? Still want that?”

You look down again. There’s no shyness in that movement, no averting his beastly eyes — your focus lies elsewhere because you have a theory. Which proves true.

The swelling under his joggers, right there between his legs wasn’t there before.

So you gather your voice, and say, “…Yes.”

“Hmm. Why didn’t you tell me?” His fingernails dig lightly into your skin, and right in the middle of the tension, he pouts for a little moment. “I genuinely thought you were still pissed.”

“I was on my period…” You shrug your shoulders. “It was also late. I was so tired, and—”

He waits.

“I knew that you’d do it if I asked for it.”

“I would’ve.” What’s worse? The confirmation or the tickling breath against your cheek? When did he get so close? “I still would. If you want me to.”

“I just said yes,” you tug at the shirt, eliciting an amused grin as the tips of your noses collide, “you’ll keep asking and,” your heart beats at a million miles a minute, “just not kiss me, is that it?”

Your provocation proves effective just the right amount.

Because he opens his mouth, seemingly snarling — you can’t tell for sure, since his lips clash against yours within half a moment. Determined as his hand immediately flashes to the small of your back, supporting you before you fall backwards on the carpet.

And then he kisses you like a man starved. Like he’s run out of saliva, dehydrated. Seeks your tongue, tastes like earthy Matcha Latte and something you can’t quite define — something that’s so uniquely him.

Your kiss muffles his tiny sound, a mixture of a sigh and a moan, body impatient as he tries to push closer to you, though separated by your clashing knees. You understand — you, too, would let him smother you under his weight if you could.

So you pull your folded legs apart, shifting until they surround him and attempting to straddle him. But he’s plotting something else: his fingers hold your jaw, keeping you in place, and the hot, wet kiss breaks when he pulls away.

You catch a brief glimpse of glistening lips before he moves to trail down your body, leaning in to teeth at your shirt, pushing it off your shoulder and kissing your skin for a fleeting second. And when the shirt shifts back into position, his other hand works on your tits.

Grabs your shirt at its hem, lifting it over your mounds until they’re free, nipples perked, home to him. In a haze, the tip of his tongue touches the right nub, and you shiver.

More so when he whispers, “Am so hard for you, I’ll fucking combust.”

For you.

You’ll repent for how badly you want him in your mouth.

You caress his thigh, sneaking up until you reach the swelling under the fabric. You feel it immediately, firm as a rock, big and fat, so sensitive that he hisses once you touch it.

“No,” he commands, the word barely a breath, “no, no. Don’t or I’ll come like this.”

He says it against your neck. Warm and tickling. You feel goosebumps arise, your reactions slow, but your heart fast. His fingers engulf your wrist, leading your palm to his cheek; you feel the smileless dimple under your thumb when he darts out his tongue to wet his lips.

Then, you close your eyes; the pecks against your neck are exhilarating. The moving touch, down to your tits and then back up to your jaw is one of his favourite games; you move your hips against the carpet, soaked panties sticking against your pussy.

“You’re…” you start, fingers in his fluffy hair as he bites your nipple. You moan, your words shaky, “You’re— more into this today.”

“I mean… after everything you just said to me?” He chuckles, moving up, taking your chin between his thumb and forefinger. His mouth brushes yours.

“And I missed her.” Free hand between your thighs, he taps just over your clit; your lips part. “Too crude to say I can’t wait for her to swallow my cock?”

Well. Fuck.

If it wasn’t him, you’d cringe. But it is him, and the truth is that you’re dying for him to press himself onto you. To wrap himself around you, to wrap yourself around him.

You want him to cut you in half, want to be his little toy until you can barely stand.

“Maybe,” you tell him, “but I promise that she wants it, too.”

That’s it, that’s it.

It’s when teeth meet again, the kiss messy, your arms around his neck. He holds you by your waist, pulling you off the floor a little, readjusting his position, so you can climb onto him.

You tilt your head as far as you can, taking him in, drooling, lips and tongue moving wildly to taste all of him. His digits wander from your back to your ass, pushing between your cheeks and pressing against your clenching hole.

The gesture is short lived, but enough for you to rub against him. The urge to rip your panties and part your folds over his girth is profuse; to dampen his length and empty his balls just like this.

But he clenches his jaw, groaning. Halts your movement with a strong grip before pulling at your hair without breaking the kiss. You move your fingers up and down his arm, and then dash it upwards to bury them in his locks, too.

Only, instead of reaching his mane, your hand hits the glass table on your left; you grunt into the kiss and then move away to exclaim, “Ah, fuck.”

Jungkook must’ve heard the sound because he catches on right away, laughing. Gently, he pushes you off his lap, gets back on his knees and then up. He pulls you with him as he says, “Alright. Get on the couch before you hurt yourself.”

“Couch?”

You’re surprised; not the bed this time, is it?

Then again — Jungkook isn’t necessarily picky when it comes to this; cue flashback to bathroom adventures.

So you still listen. Wobbly legs drag you to the sofa, plumping onto it as you watch him follow. The bulge is huge, hotter than hellfire when he palms it and lets go again.

“Too damn lazy to get to the bedroom,” he declares before dropping back on his knees.

You thought he’d climb over you, push you back across the length of the couch. But instead, he seems satisfied with your helpless position, pushing back the carpet and table some to take a seat right in front of you.

You admire his patience — the outline of his cock presses against its confines. Does it not hurt? His expression doesn’t reveal any discomfort as he adjusts against the hard floor; the carpet barely provides any relief.

But the discomfort doesn’t redirect his focus, his touch heading towards you, urging you to remove your joggers at turtle’s pace. He throws them over his shoulder and onto the table, one leg of them dangling off of it.

Left in your panties, you watch his hands curl under your knees, freeing his way to where you want to ache. Lifts your legs, places them on his shoulders carefully, amused and delighted when your bent limbs drag him closer to your cunt.

His tenacious tongue peeks between his teeth, and he fondles your thighs before he reaches the hem of your panties. They bug him — separate your heat from his mouth; in this moment, a crime to him.

“Help me here real quick,” he whispers, and you raise your ass, letting him drag the underwear off of you.

It sticks to your pussy for a second, obscenely flooded with your gradually building arousal. You think he sees, because he halts for a second, eyes flitting up to you before he says, “I think this’ll be fun.”

“You promise?”

“Have I ever lied to you?”

Well…

You shrug your shoulders, but smile tellingly, eliciting a smirk that decorates his gorgeous face, closing in bit by bit. The cool air evaporates the nearer he draws, replaced by his hot breath.

And then… just to test…

He darts out his tongue, the sharp tip of it tickling your clit. Your reaction, much desired, stirs a new type of appetite in him. Because your chin trembles just once, just for a moment. Lashes flutter, and his heart skips a beat.

As he inhales, but never exhales, you question, “What?”

“Nothing,” he assures, blowing against your sex, “just. So very pretty.”

You look down at him. His shoulders look broader from here. Muscular, hair dark and silky. His lips are colourful, handsome, nose ready to bury in your pelvis. If he thinks you’re pretty, then he’s the definition of true aesthetic.

Slowly, you reach for his hair, brushing through it before you bring his head closer to you, hinting at the obvious, and say, “And you.”

“Not like you, though…”

He waits, allowing the both of you a moment of preparation.

And then… he’s kissing your pussy. Lightly at first, up and down, a hand on your inner thigh that moves closer and closer to your folds.

He sighs once before a digit parts your nether lips sticking together, and then licks a stripe between them. You whine quietly; his eyes close. He’s beautiful like this; in a minute, he’ll look at you again, mouth swollen, and you’ll wish for his touch to last and last and last…

“Please,” you only whisper, but he doesn’t answer.

Instead, his sweet kisses turn into something more. Way more wetness, way more tongue. And before you know it, he’s splitting your legs wider, pushing in to start devouring you.

Your moans are intoxicating. They’re sudden, but not surprising, voiced against the ceiling when your head falls back. The heels of your feet dig into his back, pushing him closer when his knees are already touching the couch.

The movements of his mouth are warm, a waterfall. He eats you out until he’s slurping, drenching you further. He’ll slide in effortlessly, you already know. Will bury every single inch of himself inside you, fill you up for the rest of the day.

And your high — it builds up embarrassingly fast. Perhaps because it’s been a while; or maybe because it’s Jeon Jungkook you’re dealing with. Either way, your lower stomach aches, the knot pressing against your guts.

“Kookie,” you murmur, yet again left without an answer.

He knows not to break his focus this time; knows that you’re close, recognises it in your grip around the patch of his hair. Hears it in your desperate whimpers, louder by the second. Words more unintelligible now.

Your thigh is twitching every now and then, quivering, and he takes it as a sign to keep sucking and swirling. Then flicks his wet muscle over your engorged clit, adding to your exclaims when his nimble fingers glide into you swiftly.

Too swiftly. Two of them are barely enough; and he adds a third. Your cheeks heat up, body sliding down — partly because you’re dying inside, partly because he’s pulling you towards him.

Jungkook knows how to navigate your body, how to direct you towards a rationality-breaking explosion. And he does. He does with the plethora of lustful licks, softly circling around your clit. His nose presses against it every time he shifts downwards, tasting you thoroughly.

“I’m almost—” you voice, and he hums, vibrations torture.

It’s a game to him that he’s skilled at; he understands his moves, and he never loses. Neither today as he clamps his hand onto your waist, fingers pumping in and out of you, curling and digging, massaging your favourite spot.

They turn and twist, two fingers of his free hand settling around your clit and raising it for better access.

It takes probably half a minute longer… and then… then…

Your voice grows in pitch, nearly illegal for a Sunday afternoon, but music to his ears. So genuine and sweet. Corners of your eyes glistening. He holds your legs apart as you start begging, but all he truly makes out is the eager repetition of his name.

He wishes your shirt didn’t cover your upper body; wishes he could see the heaving of your chest, the perked nipples, the sweat on your clavicles.

But for now, this is enough.

The way he sees waves of pleasure wash over you, eyes rolled back, not looking at him anymore. Your lips are dry, your tongue probably, too, and he wants to kiss it wet again.

You moan and wince and keen, body restless. The tug of his hair becomes more prominent and palpable, but the sensation makes him smile. You’re probably barely noticing, too.

That is, until your hold and breathing finally calm down. You keep riding the wave, your head turning in odd circle-ish shapes. He kisses your pussy, helping you through it, only stopping when you open your eyes.

“Well, that was…” he says, lips as swollen as you anticipated, shimmering, “a good start.”

“Every single time,” you begin, panting, shaking your head. You watch him as he gets on his feet, moving in to your mouth. “Every single time I think it can’t get better, and then I remember it’s just the fucking beginning.”

He shifts to you slowly, grazing your lips, and declares with a soft smile, “More to come, I promise. Gonna have so much fun with you.”

“Do your worst—”

One more kiss. Shorter this time, but you recognise the familiar, lingering taste immediately. Neutral, not too bad. Fills you with pride, because he never fails to guarantee that he loves it.

But you can’t wallow in it because he retreats quickly, impatient hands freeing his golden body from his clothes. The shirt falls somewhere next to the carpet, his own joggers soon discarded, landing on top of yours and sliding to the ground together.

He’s a menace when he climbs onto the couch, knees digging in and creating a shift on each side of your body. His bulge, still hidden behind his boxers, floats in front of your face; from this close, you see the droplet of precum darken a spot of the light purple cotton.

“Next stage?” he wonders above you, stroking your hair gently, as if he’s not about to explore the back of your throat. “Want or do I rather not?”

“What do you mean with not?” Your breathing is heavy as you lift your palm and engulf the imprint of his dick. He flinches, hips moving back a bit before they come back. “Get this shit off.”

He chuckles. Brings his hand to your cheek, thumb caressing it and voice clear when he says, “You’re so cute. Being demanding and all.”

But he still listens. Gets off the couch, slides his underwear off, leaves you gaping.

Gaping at the hooked and girthy tower. Gaping at how the slit on top of his head glimmers. Gaping at the moles along the stiff length, staring at the thick veins, at the full, firm balls.

“Tongue out,” he orders; you do.

The ink-free hand pushes his dick down to you, tapping it against your tongue as you open up wide. He feels heavy, hot, the skin smooth. Your head moves forward to swallow more, but he pulls back.

Strokes himself for a couple seconds, thumb spreading the precum over his head. You drool. Watch attentively, as though you’re learning — until he eventually guides it back to you and positions it into your still gaping mouth.

Enters it slowly. Slightly salty. Then says, “Breathe. And don’t overthink it too much.”

Huh.

Well. Damn.

Because…

At times, you do worry about your expressions; about your tears when you gag around him, the coughing fits you get in the middle of it all. So that’s a surprise. Attentive.

But your mind is blank today anyway; so you nod, moving to lick the underside of the tip, and he laughs, mumbling, “Alright. Have it, babe.”

And you do.

Slowly at first, cautious as you twirl your tongue around him. You don’t notice much discomfort just yet, thankful that he’s easing you into this. A third of his length buried inside, you close your lips around him and hollow your cheeks.

Which is probably when the invisible threads holding him back finally break.

“Okay,” he says, “you got this.”

His knees move in, more inches intruding. His fingers drift to the back of your head, and you dig yours in his brawny thighs. He grows harder in your mouth, impossibly bigger the more you drag your lips along his member.

How gratifying. You’ve craved this for hours and days. What was your argument about again?

Your head drops further back when he shoves himself inside, more and more as time passes. You imitate his prior advances — hum and close your eyes. Bring a hand to the base of his cock, pumping all that you won’t be choking around.

When you gaze up at him to analyse his reactions, he leaves your mind vacant. Because his head is raised, like yours, jawline edged and acute. Mouth open until he meets your eyes.

You hope he’s seeing something just as lascivious and mind-numbing from his perspective. Maybe messy hair, laying against the softness of your shirt. Or a cock appearing out of and disappearing behind pretty lips.

Slowly blinking eyes that shut just as slowly again, and a tongue that falls out and licks along a vein whenever your head moves to the side. Allowing you a couple deep breaths.

He must be perceiving it all, too.

Because a moment later, he gnarls, like a wild animal, and states, “This won’t do—”

—Before putting both hands under your ears, holding your head and…

Ramming his cock into your mouth.

You gasp around him, taken aback and delighted at once. Feel the effect between your legs, hoping to not defile the couch too much.

Head still thrown back, falling further, you already feel the ache in the back of your neck. Your attempts of holding onto the couch prove futile because there is nothing to hold onto, armrests too far away; so you return to his thighs.

But he keeps your body steady, held at the spot between his legs. Your head is a different story: it bounces back and forth, the exhales through your nose frantic as he pounds into your throat before he slows down again.

“Good, gooood,” he drags out, observing the glistening veins as he draws back to his tip and then moves in again. “Doing very, very well. Looks so gorgeous, baby.”

You don’t know what he’s talking about — about you, his cock, the position. Everything?

He keeps up the gentler pace, allowing you a break. Allowing himself the pleasure of this very image. Pretty lips surrounding a pretty dick.

And perhaps your desperate, little moans, accompanied by rapid blinking, set a fuse loose in his brain.

Because a moment later, Jungkook dares a step further — cock already stuffing your entire mouth, he pushes in more. The fat monstrosity reaches far, your gag reflex not as much at bay anymore as before.

The view seems to spur him on, though, and you can imagine why. If you were him, you’d probably enjoy the drooling mess under him, too. Salivating all over his dick, you feel the gross drop of your spit land on your clavicle, throat constricting as he thrusts in.

And just when you’re about to tap his thighs — very reluctantly, too — to catch your breath, he pulls back, fingers immediately digging into your cheeks to straighten your neck and head. You cough, eyes teary, your breathing quick and uncontrolled.

Like a toy, he moves your head to the left, to the right, a sly smirk playing around his lips until he moves down to you, back arched. Amidst your panting, he presses a brief kiss to your mouth, slippery against the dampness.

And then he says, as casually as he shouldn’t, “You’d look so beautiful in leashes.”

“…What?”

But he ignores your mumbled inquiry, instead thumbing at your lower lip. His dark eyes flit from one facial feature to another, pink lip caught between his teeth. The firm chest rises dangerously when he breathes in.

“Should I come in your mouth?” he asks as if you’d ever say no; as if you don’t know that he’s asking because he won’t. “Huh? Shoot it all the way down your throat?”

“Do it, fucking coward.”

…And just like that, he moves back.

tumblr is cruel and the 1k block limit in the new editor won't let me post the entire thing at once lol so here's the rest in a reblog!!! <3

#jungkook smut #jungkook fluff #bts smut #bts fluff #jeongguk smut #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #bts x reader #bts x you #bts imagines #bts fic #jungkook scenario #jeon jungkook smut #thebtswritersclub #jungkook fic #jungkook imagines #jungkook

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perfectlyoongi · 3 months

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SOULMATE!JUNGKOOK who dreamed of you every day. it wasn't necessary for Jungkook to know you to love you; in his dreams, when the stars blessed his unconscious thoughts, Jungkook met you daily, sharing a feeling as old as the stars themselves, feeling immediately at home when in your presence. “i only had to look at you to realize that you are the one i’m looking for; the way you warm my heart is too familiar for you to be a mere stranger.”

SOULMATE!JUNGKOOK who counted the days until he met you. in love with love, Jungkook only tried to find you as quickly as possible, knowing that, from the moment he saw you, he would know that you were the one he should love — every day of Jungkook only made sense because it became one day closer to meeting you. “it’s close, i feel it. inside me, inside my heart, there is a force that pulls me closer to you, pulls me closer to my happiness.”

SOULMATE!JUNGKOOK who swore that the colors became more vibrant the day he met you. and, oh, when he met you, all the greens became more intense, the blues more tender, the reds more fiery; meeting you was like opening a coloring book, where your soul was the color of the rainbow and painted every nook and cranny of Jungkook's life. “it seems like i only started to see the world as it really is when you appeared in my life. it was as if everything before was just grey and white and you brought with you fireworks to color me.”

SOULMATE!JUNGKOOK who loved you from day one. already in his dreams, Jungkook knew he would love instantly; your essence had been part of his for decades; your soul was molded from the same cosmic dust as his; you yourself were the magic that came out of Jungkook's core; it was obvious that Jungkook would love you right away — you were destined to love each other. “i only had to look at you once to realize that it was you i had to stay with; didn't you feel your heart calling me? mine wouldn't stop screaming your name. it just wanted to go home.”

SOULMATE!JUNGKOOK who always knew that his place was by your side. as if written in the stars, your love story was as old as the universe itself, your souls existing long before the first star died; and you were made of the same dust, carved from the same star, shaped by the same gods — you and Jungkook were always together long before you were human; and Jungkook only felt complete next to you, next to his half. “we are born from the same flame that we consume right now; our hearts hold within them the fire that created us and brought us together in this life and in others.”

SOULMATE!JUNGKOOK who believed in past lives and lived stories. it was your connection, the way your and Jungkook's complicity was too ancestral to be from this time; the way you and Jungkook understood each other, loved each other, came from past times, accompanying all of your lives and growing with the passing of time and eras “since i met you, i realized that i had already met you in another life. you feel like home, you soothe my soul as if you already knew every particle of it. you and i, we come from past times.”

SOULMATE!JUNGKOOK who would love you even if the universe didn't allow it. and if the gods were more cruel, if the universe itself gave up on your love, Jungkook swore to you that he wouldn't stop loving you; with you being his heavenly half, you being the only person he was destined to love, Jungkook swore that this love would not wither, only expand throughout the cosmos to show the universe that it would not win. “it doesn’t matter if destiny doesn’t want it. it doesn't matter if the gods want to steal us. i promise you that my love for you will paint all the stars and constellations and forever remind them of their mistake of separating us.”

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kissforyouu · 9 months

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making a sanrio bento box for your boyfriend ! ♡

pairing : jungkook x sanrio girl!oc

genre : fluff

a/n : happy new year!! hope you guys have a wonderful year ahead ❤️

i wanna know, know, know, know,

what is love?! ♡ !! (๛ ˘ ³˘)۶

you were so excited. so excited that you could run a marathon, have a dance battle, binge watch 10 dramas and study a whole semester in one night. you have all the energy in the world right now.

for the past 2 weeks, all you've been seeing on the tiktok is women making cute little bento boxes for their partners. and you just KNEW that you had to make one for your boyfriend. it's a must. they looked so freaking out your heart literally fluttered at the mere thought of making one for your boyfriend and seeing his reaction.

so now here you were, in front of your kitchen island, preparing your boyfriend's lunch box. the box was just plain steel (boring!) with no design or anything else. it suits jungkook. but you were gonna personalise it according to your likings. you don't think jungkook would get mad anyways. he'd find it rather cute.

currently, you were placing all the tiny fried shrimp in the lunchbox, also making sure to pin cute hello kitty and flower toothpicks on it. you also put a little mini container with some sauce in. for the main proportion, you decided to just make a cute hello kitty sandwich. truth is, jungkook was just going to his aunt's house to see his little cousin. a lunch box wasn't even necessary, but you wanted to do it anyway. you made sure to make it look extra cute so that jungkook's cousins would want a bite too!

closing the sandwich and placing it inside, you also sprinkle some rainbow sprinkles around the sandwich. oh my god, so cute! (you want to eat it now)

the lunchbox was turning out pretty cute and really really pretty. there were flower shaped dragon fruit inside alongside another small container of sprinkles and raspberries.

you're having so much fun by just cutting these fruits into little shapes.

"AH!" you let out a big scream, you're startled. obviously there's only one culprit. jungkook. he pinched your waist.

"baby, what is wrong with you?" you send him a small glare, turning back to continue your work.

"what's this?" jungkook takes a step further to stand next to you, his head hovering over yours to look at the food.

"ugh, i wanted to surprise you with this." you pout, leaning your head towards jungkook's shoulders. he snorts, humming.

"it's fine, i like seeing you cook anyway."

"it's already cooked! i'm just putting it all together!" you whine, completely annoyed by his sudden appearance.

"tssk, come on, baby." jungkook leans forward to rest his forearms on the table, head turned to you. he tries to sneakily sneak a piece of dragon fruit in his mouth but fails. laughing out, he still munches on the fruit, making your eyebrows frown.

"jungkook! you're so annoying!" your lips formed to a big fat pout, eyebrows raised as you playfully slapped jungkook's back.

it was clear to jungkook that you just wanted to surprise him with the bento box and that he ruined all of your plans by checking on you. but it was so cute. he was watching you from afar earlier, finding it completely endearing and adorable how you were so focused and just in your little bubble. he was so in love.

"no, you love me." he teases back.

"no, i hate you. you're a very annoying man." you roll your eyes, going back to your work while jungkook snickers.

"that's not what you say in bed though. oh my god, jungkook! i'm yours! i wanna cum!" he snickers.

"hey!" you slap his back again. jungkook dramatically clutches his heart, making exaggerated noises. "don't do that." you glare.

"yes, ma'am."

he couldn't help but smile, enjoying this sweet moment to the fullest. for the rest of the time, jungkook stays fully quiet, just letting you have your fun meanwhile he's just admiring you. here and there, he would sneak his arm around your waist to tickle you a little and make you shriek or rub your ass a little.

currently, he had his chin on your shoulder, arms on each side of you on the table. you were taking an awfully long time finishing off this little lunchbox.

"done yet?" he groans. you hum a small no. jungkook whines back.

"i'm finishing off the last bit, wait."

jungkook nods, letting go of your body and sitting on the table instead, right next to the lunchbox.

"you look so pretty." he coos, the tip of his toes poking your waist.

"ew! get your dogs away, jungkook!" you can't help but giggle as you poke his feet.

"no, they wanna touch you. my toes love you sooo much."

"ewwww, i didn't know you liked feet!" you laugh.

"yeah? wanna try it out next time?" he jokes.

"no! what the fuck?! that's nasty!" your face turns sour, vigoursly shaking your head from side to side.

"joking! joking!" he pokes his tongue out.

"very funny. but anyways, i'm done." you hold out cute bento box for him to see with a bright smile on your face.

jungkook giggles, jumping off the table and bringing you into a hug. you place the bento box on the table and hug him back, letting the big man make you completely disappear in his embrace.

"thank you, i love you." he kisses the side of your head, then temple.

"hey!" you grab the collar of his hoodie before he pulls away, then point at your lips.

he scrunches his nose in reaction to your actions, "of course."

your body pulls you closer by holding your face with both his hands, connecting your lips for a sweet kiss.

"oh my god, i forgot something!" you mumble in the middle of the kiss. jungkook pulls away, letting you wander off to wherever again. you run to your room, pulling out one of your pink sticky notes and a pen.

"what're you doing?" your boyfriend trails behind you, curious to see what you were doing.

"i'm writing you a note."

"lemme see." he places his hands on your hips to have a peek but you quickly shoo him away.

"read it when you eat it."

"but—"

"anyways, i'm done." you interrupt the poor man. he opens his mouth to say something, but stops. instead, he ruffles your hair.

once you're done assembling everything together, and also folding the sticky paper and making a heart out of it, you wrap everything in a serviette and hand it over to jungkook.

"okay, byebye. eat it with your cousin, okay? tell him i missed him!" you pat his cheek.

"of course, baby. bye, i love you." he kisses your lips one more time with a small squeeze to your waist.

-‘๑’-

"kookie!" jungkook's cousin jumps on his back, super excited that his very much older brother is back to see him again.

"hey, buddy!" he squeezes him in his embrace, delivering a small kiss to the child's cheek.

"you wanna eat something?" he playfully punches the kid in the stomach.

"yeah!"

"you remember y/n? she made this for us. you know, she told me to tell you that she missed you."

"yes, kookie! the pretty lady you brought with you." the tips of the little boy's ears turn into a deep shade of pink at the thought of you. once jungkook notices this, he laughs, pinching the little boy's ear.

"you like her?"

"y‐yeah..." he shyly admits.

"okay, i'll bring her with me next time, hm?"

the kid's eyes instantly lit up as he excitedly jumps up, arms in the air.

"let's eat this for now."

the little note you wrote had been in jungkook's mind the entire ride and he's so eager to finally open the food up and read what you wrote. sure, it was just a small note. but jungkook loved these kind of things. it was the little actions that mattered the most to him. he loved it whenever you showed your love through little things like this. it was so much more than just little for him.

once the little starts to happily munch of some of the fruit, jungkook quickly picks up the little note. he carefully opens it up, excited. it amazed him how he would get excited over the smallest things you'd do.

once he reads the notes, he swears he's never been more in love. there's a big fat smile on his face.

✉⤷ you're the only one for me. ♡

-‘๑’-

taglist : @fungie2332 @wintertxt @wheexine @hyunjinswifeee @ohsweetmimosa @canyon-lwt

#jungkook #jungkook fanfic #jungkook x oc #jungkook x reader #jungkook x y/n #bts #bts jk #jungkook fluff #bts fluff #fluff #kpop #jungkook x you

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wishesunderthestars · 1 year

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Eunoia // Ch. 26

eunoia (noun): beautiful thinking, the possession of a well-balanced mind, which exhibits goodwill and kindness

Pairings: Hybrid! BTS x reader

Summary: You are a world famous director and you have dedicated your life to your job.You have everything you could ever dream of; wealth, recognision, talent, your friends and family. But loneliness isn’t cured by success. So what happens when you somehow rescue seven hybrids? Can they fill the void?

Genre: Angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, eventual smut

Word Count: 12.1k+

Warnings: past abuse, past sexual abuse, cursing, past violence,

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It was the second time Taehyung was in Jungkook’s atelier—only recently had Jungkook started thinking of it like that, before it was the atelier—but he was looking around him like it was a fairytale and everything was made of magic. Jungkook guessed he must have looked a little like that as well the first time you had shown him the room and told him it was his to do as he pleased. Athens and the Parthenon stretching on the wall never failed to inspire wonder and a deep respect in him, regardless of how long it had been since the first time he walked inside.

Everything else in the room was quite different from that first day. The once pristine and unused room was now splattered in paint. It was everywhere, on the floor and the cabinets and on the many newspapers that he used to cover everything. The first time he had stained the floor with paint, he had gone to you with teary eyes, lowered ears, and a hundred apologies on the tip of his tongue. You had simply laughed and told him that the room was his and he could paint the whole floor if he wanted to. The only thing you asked of him was to be careful of the wall painting. Jungkook would have never touched it in the first place.

Finished canvases were leaning against the cabinets and the walls. Most of them were of places Jungkook found beautiful, the Eiffel Tower, the Parthenon, a neighborhood in Amsterdam he had seen in one of your photos. There were also a few paintings of the pack, you and Seokjin cooking in the kitchen, Yoongi playing the piano, Namjoon and Hoseok under the large tree in the garden, Taehyung with Alice at the lake, and Jimin smiling so wide his eyes turned into crescent moons.

Jungkook longed for Jimin with an insatiable hunger. Now that he had gotten a taste of him once and Jimin told him he wanted it, now that there was no guilt and anguish, he couldn’t get enough of him. He wanted to always be touching him, holding him, and scenting him. His scent was like an aphrodisiac to him and he was addicted.

However, when Taehyung had shyly asked about his atelier, he was compelled to show it to him. It wasn’t often that Taehyung asked for anything and although he hadn’t specifically asked to see the room, Jungkook knew he would like it. Taehyung’s smile was also addicting and rare like a precious gem. So, he had left Jimin with Seokjin to cook in the kitchen and had taken Taehyung’s hand and climbed down the stairs. His hand was soft and he could still feel its ghost on his palm.

He was right, Taehyung’s smile was worth it. It was a tiny one, a small curve of his lips, but it was stunning.

His tiger ears twitched when his eyes landed on the painting of him. He approached slowly, taking it in. A hand reached out but he drew it back before it could touch the canvas.

In the painting, Alice was grinning brightly at Taehyung, one of her rainbow butterfly hair-clips clipped on his dark hair. But what Jungkook loved the most about it was Taehyung’s smile. For the first time, with Alice, Taehyung looked genuinely happy. The painting didn’t do the moment justice, he hadn’t managed to capture the tiger hybrid perfectly. He had taken a picture of the two of them and used it as reference but it was difficult, almost impossible, to immortalize Taehyung’s beauty in that moment.

“Do you like it?” Jungkook asked gently.

Taehyung startled as if the painting had enchanted him and Jungkook’s voice broke the spell. He hugged himself with one hand, almost like he wanted to stop himself from touching the painting. “It’s… beautiful.”

“It was a beautiful moment,” Jungkook agreed. “Alice is incredible, right?”

Taehyung nodded slowly. “I… have it. The butterfly. She doesn’t want back… it.”

They both looked at the painting. Jungkook wasn’t sure if they were seeing the same thing but maybe they were.

“Do you want to paint again?” he asked, breaking the silence. He took down the half-finished canvas of a beach from the easel and replaced it with a blank canvas.

Taehyung didn’t hesitate to agree this time. They picked up different brushes, chose a few tubes of oil paint and set themselves to work. Jungkook showed him how to paint a sunset—he had perfected the skill through a lot of observation and many YouTube videos. Taehyung seemed to have fun blending the colors and drawing the shapes of semi-transparent clouds.

They stayed in the atelier for a few hours until they were called for dinner by Hoseok, whose heart-shaped smile at seeing them together in their paint-splattered clothes rivaled the beauty of the sunset. After the meal, Jungkook asked if Taehyung would like to take the painting of him and Alice to his room. They hung it on the wall with Yoongi’s help and went back to the garden together.

♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩

You were filming at Monmouth Manufacturing for the day. They were the last couple of scenes you would be filming there for Season 1. Hopefully—and most probably—, you would see it again next year, or the year after that, filming for Season 2. First, you would have to finish Crooked Kingdom and then towards the end of the year, maybe you could work on the Raven Cycle. Your schedule was already crazy and you were troubled about what that meant for the next year.

A headache was brewing behind your temples and you were trying very hard to ignore it. You had been at the studios since 6 o’clock in the morning and you were going crazy. It would be one of those 15-16 hour days. You could see it coming. The executive producer of Paper Hearts had called to tell you that you were desperately needed for a board meeting for the next season. They had changed the time of the meeting to later in the afternoon to fit your schedule, which proved that it was important. You dreaded the drive to the other side of Los Angeles and what was sure to be a very long discussion.

During your lunch break, you texted Namjoon that you would be late again. He didn’t say anything but you knew he was disappointed. He had to be. You had barely spent any time with them in the past few days. There were also matters you still had to discuss. You hadn’t told the other hybrids about the thing between the three of you and they deserved to know. Your headache got worse just thinking about it.

You flipped through the script during a small break, sipping on your third cup of coffee of the day. It was making you jittery but the other option was falling asleep in your chair.

“Okay, I think we are good to move on to the next scene,” you told Will. “And then we’re done for the day.”

“Should I get someone to call the actors?”

“Yeah, see if they are done with makeup and send them in.” You rolled your neck and let out a heavy sigh. “All things considered it’s going pretty well.”

Will chuckled as he motioned for someone from the staff to come closer. “For someone who’s been here since six, you’re doing remarkably well.”

You waited for him to send the man to fetch the actors before speaking again. “We’ll see about that when we’re done with this scene. If I’m on my feet and awake by then, I deserve an award.”

Will shrugged, leaning back on his chair. “I’ve seen you do worse. Do you remember when we were filming ‘The Grand Masquerade’ in Prague? You were running on three hours of sleep a night for a week. I thought you would fall asleep during filming and wouldn’t wake up for a couple of days.”

“I was younger then,” you shrugged it off. You eyed the script again, focusing on your notes. “ I don’t have the same energy.”

“It was three years ago.”

“Three years can be a long time.”

You could understand that better than anyone, considering that this year sometimes seemed like a decade to you. In a year, your whole life had changed. You were different, everything was different from last year. Three years could be a very long time, indeed. But also the blink of an eye.

One of the actors arrived and you both greeted him. Soon, he was swept away by the movement director.

“I think you need another break,” Will declared in all of his dramatic glory.

You tapped your long nails on your plastic cup, the action was strangely soothing. “I think I need another coffee.”

“You certainly need a break,” Will insisted. “And you certainly don’t need another coffee.”

He had noticed your restlessness, then. “We just came back from a break. And there is no time for another one. After we are done here, promotions for Six of Crows begin then there is the premiere and the tour and they are getting everything ready to begin filming for Season 6 of Paper Hearts. And Crooked Kingdom is next year and I am very behind on that.”

Will’s face did that thing he did whenever he was done with you, his features slacking like he was bored and a little irritated. “You can’t be behind on something that hasn’t even started yet. Be serious.”

“I am. Deadly.”

Will rolled his eyes. “Break. You need a break.”

The rest of the actors arrived then and the subject was dropped in favor of going over the details of the scene with them. They took their places and filming began. There was a place where the scene kept being snagged and you had to go over it four times to get it right and five more to perfect it.

By the end, you were running like you were being hunted to find John and drive to the company building. The meeting as you had expected was long and tiring. At least, it was a productive one. You discussed the script, the new additions, and the schedule. You shared a few worries and disagreements you had and you mostly managed to find the middle ground. Another meeting would be held in a week before filming would officially start in a few weeks.

It was past eleven when you opened the door of the Castle. No one was in the living room, which was to be expected.

“I’m back!” you shouted, even though no one would hear you if they were in the garden. The night was warm and your skin felt stifling. Sweat dotted your forehead and the change of temperature, when you walked inside the air-conditioned Castle, sent a shock through your system. Your legs had turned to stones and you struggled to take off your shoes.

All you wanted was to fall asleep. You opened the balcony door and shouted again that you were back and that you would be in your room. You closed it before you could hear any replies.

In your room, you had to force yourself to change into your pajamas instead of falling face-first onto your bed in your dirty clothes. You didn’t have the energy to take a shower like you usually did at the end of the day. Your appetite had also disappeared. You hadn’t eaten dinner but you weren’t hungry. You were taking off your makeup in the bathroom when there was a knock on your door.

For a moment, you debated not answering but you dismissed the thought instantly.

“Come in,” you called. “I’m in the bathroom.”

You heard the door open and close again. You dragged the cotton pad roughly across your face, you didn’t have the patience to be gentle and it left your skin red. Some days it was just too sensitive.

“Are you alright?” The care in Seokjin’s voice tugged at the tight knot in your chest, loosened it. You glanced at the door but he wasn’t there.

Most of the makeup was gone from your face and you looked like a mess. You threw the cotton pads in the bin and washed your face quickly to get rid of the mascara under your eyes and any stubborn residues of makeup.

Seokjin was standing by your vanity, waiting for you. It wasn’t often that he came to your room. You weren’t used to seeing him there but it felt right.

“For someone who has been running around for more than sixteen hours, I am peachy,” you tried to joke but the delivery was lacking. It was confirmed by Seokjin’s frown.

“That’s too much, even for you. That isn’t healthy.”

“It is what it is,” you said, trying not to sound defensive. “It isn’t something I haven’t done before. And tomorrow’s schedule is easier so it’s alright.”

That didn’t seem to do anything to ease his mind. “Because you did it before, it doesn’t mean you should keep doing that.”

You rubbed your temples, your headache was getting worse. “There are things that need to get done. I can’t just stop because I’m tired. I get calls all day and my inbox is full of emails I haven’t answered yet. I have a million things on my plate, I can’t ignore them.”

“I know,” Seokjin said, his tone softer. He came closer to you and took your hand in his. The touch was grounding. You hadn’t realized you were spiraling until your feet were planted on the earth again. “We know how important your work is and how much effort you have put in to be where we are. It’s admirable and it’s incredible that you’ve managed to do all this. But your health is important too. You can’t keep running with an empty tank. You need to rest too.”

You heaved a sigh and let your head fall forward to rest on his chest. Your nose wasn’t as sensitive as a hybrid’s but breathing in the familiar sweetness calmed you. He hugged you and drew you closer to him, his hand kneading the tense muscles of your shoulders and the back of your neck.

“We missed you,” he said almost in a whisper.

“You always miss me.”

Seokjin stayed quiet but you both knew. They always missed you because you were always gone.

“You should eat something before you fall asleep. Yoongi and I made gnocchi with prosciutto and parmesan and garlic bread with mozzarella. I can bring it here but I think it would be best if you ate in the kitchen. Everyone wants to see you but they don’t want to bother you.”

The simple act of going to the kitchen sounded like climbing a mountain. Your bed looked too attractive, only a meter away and very very soft. Your eyelids were heavy with the need to sleep and yet…

“I’ll come to the kitchen,” you said. Having woken up at five, you hadn’t seen anyone before leaving. The thought of not seeing them at all today left a sour taste in your mouth. “But can we stay here? For a bit?”

Seokjin placed a tender kiss on the crown of your head. “Of course. For as long as you want.”

You lost track of time in his arms but no more than five minutes must have passed by the time you pulled back with a heavy heart. A temporary balm had been applied to the ailments of the day. You could hold yourself up for a few more minutes to eat a little, you had been doing it all day.

Your legs were as heavy as concrete walking to the kitchen. You had to concentrate on putting one foot in front of the other, otherwise, you might just collapse. There was noise coming from the kitchen but your tired mind couldn’t register what they were saying.

You were surprised to see that everyone was there waiting for you, even Taehyung. Yoongi placed the plates in front of your seat and Jimin added the cutlery. Everyone else was sitting around the table in their usual stools.

Their greetings were quieter than usual and you guessed that they were conscious of how tired you were. You gave them the warmest smile you could master and patted Hoseok’s hair as you passed by to take your seat. The aroma of the food made your stomach growl, you hadn’t realized how hungry you had been before. Your appetite was back. Everything looked incredible as always and you couldn’t wait to dig in.

“Are you all just going to look at me while I eat?” you asked, picking up your fork.

The hybrids looked sheepish at your question.

“We just wanted to see you,” Jungkook said. “You left too early in the morning.”

You had to compose yourself to pierce a couple of gnocchi with your fork and not sigh out loud. Yoongi’s eyes were heavy on you, they were the ones you could detect with the most ease. You were the most aware of him.

“I had too much to do today. They have been bugging me from the studios for days. If I didn’t start early, I would have never finished. And I prefer an early morning to a late night. I tend to work better in the morning.”

You forced the fork to your mouth. You were ravenous but the conversation stalled your appetite.

“I would think that this was considered a late night,” Namjoon pointed out.

The taste, as expected, was heavenly. The creaminess of the parmesan sauce was tied perfectly with the savory crispy prosciutto. In your condition, you felt like it was wasted on you. As hungry as you were, you just wanted to put your fork down and go to sleep. But you couldn’t do that. You were better than that, you could eat something and then you could go to sleep. You could do that, you had done this before. Hadn’t you?

“This isn’t a late night,” you said after you swallowed the delicious bite. You had to eat another one. And another one. “Late nights can be anything from three a.m. to the next morning. This doesn’t happen often but I really had too many things to do. This is just for a few weeks because we’re moving very fast with the Raven Boys and filming for Season 6 of Paper Hearts will start soon. There are a lot of meetings and things they need my opinion on, it will actually be better once filming starts. They don’t need me as much then.”

You pushed the gnocchi around and you could tell they didn’t believe you without looking at them. It was true that your workload was heavier these days but you couldn’t exactly guarantee that it would get better soon. Filming for the Raven Cycle had been going exceptionally well and it was moving faster than you had originally planned. It would be wrapping up by the end of September or by early October at the latest. Wrapping up was a lot of work, the beginning and the end were the busiest parts.

The rest of autumn was going to be very difficult too. There was the premier as well, which added to your workload greatly. It would take up all of November and the work for it would start from October. Maybe December would be calmer. Maybe.

You ate the rest of your meal in relative silence. They didn’t talk more about you leaving early and coming back late although you knew they wanted to. Their voices were quiet as they talked about anything from witches in cartoons to color theory. You let their words play in the background like the sound from a TV as you tried to eat as much as you could.

The result was a half-finished plate of gnocchi and one less garlic bread with mozzarella. Your eyes were closing involuntarily by then, staying closed for longer periods each time. If you didn’t go to sleep now, you would fall face-first into the gnocchi.

You slid off your seat and balanced yourself on numb legs. “Thank you for this, it was delicious. But I really need to go to sleep now.”

“It’s okay,” Seokjin said, glancing at half of the food still on the plate. “You should rest.”

“At what time do you start work tomorrow?” Yoongi asked. He had been silent during your dinner and his voice rang louder than the rest to your ears.

It must have taken a few seconds to navigate the fog in your mind before you could answer. “Filming starts around nine, so I should be there by eight. Half past eight at most.”

“That’s still too early,” Hoseok said, frowning.

You waved their worries off. They had better things to worry about than the job you had been doing for half of your life. “It isn’t too early. I can sleep for a decent number of hours before I have to get ready. It’s alright, really. Goodnight, everyone. Sweet dreams.”

With effort, you dragged your body to your bedroom. You didn’t bother turning on the lights and stumbled to your bed guided only by the moonlight. There wasn’t a point in closing the blinds when you would wake up around the time the sun was rising. The light of your phone was too bright in the darkness and it made your eyes sting as you set an alarm.

A few messages caught your attention but a knock stopped you before you could open them.

“Come in,” you called, setting your phone aside. The door opened and the light from the hallway slipped in, outlining the silhouettes of the two hybrids. “Is everything okay?”

They both nodded and Jimin took a few steps into the room. “Can we sleep here tonight?”

“Both of you?” you asked, half-suppressing a yawn. Unlike Jimin, Jungkook hadn’t slept in your room before and the only time you had shared a bed was in Virginia.

Jungkook’s bunny ears drooped. “I can go, I don’t mind. I just missed you.”

“Sorry, that isn’t how I meant it.” Your surroundings were a bit blurry, the minutes stretched but were also impossibly short. It felt a little like life was a dream when you were tired like this. “Come in, both of you. And close the door behind you. It is blinding me a bit.”

They hurried inside and did as you told them. You couldn’t see them well as they moved through the darkness. They surrounded you, lying on different sides. Jimin didn’t hesitate to draw closer, throwing an arm over your stomach. Jungkook was a little stiffer on your left like he didn’t know how to situate himself. You found his hand, intertwining your fingers, and a quiet sigh escaped his lips.

It felt right, lying between them. Like that was how it was meant to be. But maybe that was the exhaustion talking, the dream realm slipping into the waking world.

“I missed you too,” you whispered. “Now sleep. I have an alarm set for the morning.”

♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩

Summer bled seamlessly into autumn. The change wasn’t apparent in the Castle, autumn had only arrived in name. The heat was still there and would remain for some time. During the days, it still made sweat drip down your temples the few times you filmed outside the studios but the nights were comfortable and moon-bright.

You had a couple of hours free between takes and nothing to do so you got into your car (John had taken the day off to spend some time with Alice) and started the engine. “Nothing to do” was a relative term of course. There were many things you could be doing, countless extra little tasks that crowded your thoughts, but you disregarded all of them. You had been spending whole days away from home and you were beginning to feel guilty about it.

On your way back, you stopped by your favorite homemade gelato shop. In San Diego, you had gone for gelato the first day and the hybrids had loved it. You had made it a habit to get gelato at the beginning of each day during ComicCon, it was your little ritual. You had ordered gelato a couple of times to the Castle as well but with eight people, it didn’t last more than a day.

There were dozens of flavors behind the display case, all of them looking delectable. You got a wide variety, remembering the flavors they liked the most. You picked hazelnut, tiramisu, chocolate chip cookie, almond, caramel, coconut, cream and sour cherry, nutella, and vanilla and asked for 1 kilo of each to be delivered to your house. It was too hot and your house was too far to transport them in your car.

You didn’t have to wait more than a few minutes outside the gate before the delivery boy arrived. You got the bags full of gelato containers from him and sent him off with a hefty tip. The Castle was a long way from the heart of the city and anyone willing to make deliveries there deserved a nice tip.

Unlocking and opening the door was a struggle but you managed. You shouted you were back and fast-walked down the stairs, the plastic bags digging into your hands. On the second level, you were faced with Jungkook, who was also climbing the stairs to reach you. He looked as if he was ready to attack you with a hug before noticing the bags.

“A little help?” you asked, raising the bags a little higher. Your arms protested loudly.

Jungkook quickly took most of the bags from you and if you hadn’t been the one carrying them before, you would have believed they were light as a feather with the way he was holding them. “What are all these?” he asked, peeking into the bags. His eyes sparkled and his smile widened in realization when he spotted the containers. “Is that–?”

“Gelato,” you said, a little proud of yourself for thinking of making the stop on your way back.

Jungkook’s steps turned into little hops. “You are the best! How much did you get? Are these all different flavors?”

“You will see…”

Jungkook made a sound close to a petulant whine. “Come on,” he said, dragging the vowels. “What are they? Did you get hazelnut?”

“We’re almost there. You’ll see in a minute.” The garden was coming into view as you climbed down to the last level but Jungkook still turned back to pout at you. “Dramatic bunny,” you muttered lowly but not low enough for his enhanced hearing not to pick it up. You didn’t mind, his giggles were cute.

At the bottom of the stairs, Namjoon and Seokjin were waiting for you.

Seokjin squeezed your wrist in greeting before saying, “He is a very dramatic bunny.”

“Hey! You should be on my side!”

Seokjin raised his eyebrows. “And why is that?” And that set off a round of bickering as they walked to the table to set down the bags.

Despite your protests, Namjoon took the last bags from you. “You should accept a little help from time to time,” he said firmly. You knew that he meant it for more than this. You decided to ignore it for now, you would overthink this later.

“Everyone, gather around! I brought gelato!” you called.

In a few minutes, everyone was gathered around the table. Hoseok, upon seeing the many containers of gelato, had done a happy dance, kissed your cheek and ran upstairs with Seokjin to get bowls and spoons. Jimin had wrapped himself around your back and was licking his lips, which was highly distracting. You shouldn’t be thinking about this.

Taehyung was the quietest one, as he usually was. He was sitting next to Yoongi, looking at all the containers with parted lips.

“I got gelato for us,” you told him. “It is really good. I got a lot of flavors so you can try as many as you want.”

“Gelato,” Taehyung repeated softly, gazing at the containers spread over the table.

Hoseok and Seokjin arrived with eight bowls, too many spoons and three ice cream scoops—you didn’t even know you had that many—and set them down around the table. You busied yourself with opening all the containers. You already knew which flavors you wanted so you grabbed one of the scoops and served yourself three scoops of ice cream.

Jimin had hooked his chin over your shoulder and wasn’t making any move to serve himself. That was up to you then.

“Which flavor do you want?” you asked him, dipping the scoop into the cup of water.

He rubbed his cheek against your shoulder lazily. “Hmmm, I think I want to try a few before I decide.”

You decided to indulge him, you liked it when he got playful and joked with you. You preferred when he was confident and asked for what he wanted. It was beautiful to witness how much he had changed through the months. You dipped a spoon into the flavors in your bowl first and brought them to his mouth. He savored each spoonful, humming and licking his full lips. He was so close to you, if you turned completely your noses would touch. How did you always end up in these situations lately?

“I want that too,” Jungkook said, pouting and pointing at your spoon. He was sitting at the bench and he had his own bowl in front of him, filled with four scoops of gelato.

“You want almond?” you asked.

“No, I want to be fed too.”

“You really are a baby,” Seokjin said. “Is that what’s going to be happening now? Whatever one has the other wants too?”

Jungkook looked away, taking his spoon again disappointed. “No, it just looked nice. It felt nice to be cared for when we were at the lake. If you don’t want to, that’s okay. I just wanted to ask.”

At the lake, you had been feeding them strawberries dipped in chocolate and your mind had run too wild. You should stop thinking about that. “I want to, you are just a little far. I can’t really reach.”

Jimin was about to say something, probably offer a solution but before he could, Seokjin had picked up Jungkook and plopped him down in his lap.

“Here, I will feed you, you big baby. Is this alright?” he asked, ever caring.

Jungkook squirmed a little but seemed pleased, a light flush settling on his cheeks. “Yes, of course.” He was as tall as Seokjin but in his lap, he looked much smaller. He opened his mouth obediently when Seokjin brought the spoon to his lips.

Your eyes strayed to Taehyung, you were hyper-aware of him whenever you were in the same place. His eyes had that look that you couldn’t understand, it was there every time you interacted with the other hybrids lately. They were telling you that he was opening up more these days but to you, he remained a mystery.

In the end, Jimin ate most of your gelato and you scooped some chocolate chip cookie into your bowl because you knew how much he liked it. Hoseok and Namjoon closed the containers and carried them upstairs, they returned and went to sit by the pool. Yoongi finished quickly and lied down under the shade of the tree closest to them. Jungkook grew sleepy and turned to the side, laying his head on Seokjin’s shoulder. Jimin joined them, hugging Jungkook from the side.

Taehyung stayed at the bench like he wasn’t sure where he should go, his empty bowl in front of him.

“Did you like it?” you asked, gesturing to his bowl. Another reminder of your shortcomings, you didn’t even know how much he had progressed in English.

“Yes, thank you,” he replied. The low timbre of his voice surprised you each time. You heard it so rarely that you didn’t get the chance to get used to it.

You should make an effort to talk to him, avoiding him would only make matters worse. But you couldn’t find anything to say. What exactly could you say to him, who had lived most of his life like a caged animal, who you had bought at an illegal auction?

Suddenly, you had the equivalent of a light bulb lighting up next to your head in a cartoon.

“Hobi told me you liked the painting of the pomegranate in the gallery,” you said then realized that pomegranate was probably a word he couldn’t understand and proceeded to explain the painting. “It has glass around it and a hand is holding it. Am I making sense?”

Seokjin looked at you amused but Taehyung nodded in understanding. “It is beautiful.”

“Right, it is,” you agreed. “The artist, the one who made it, is holding an exhibition in LA. We could go if you would like.”

You had bought the painting from her long before her fame had grown and spread. There was a magic to the way Eliana Velasco painted, everything came alive under her brush strokes. The painting of the pomegranate had enchanted you and given your history, you had to have it.

“Go?” he repeated, clearly confused.

“Yeah, to a place that has many of her paintings. You can see them there. Would you like that?” Talking to him, you were more nervous than at any of the award shows you had attended the past few years, more nervous than during any contract negotiations.

Taehyung’s eyes widened a fraction before he nodded. “Can I… see them?”

“Of course,” you said.

Jungkook stirred against Seokjin’s shoulder. “Are we going to an exhibition?”

“If you want to.”

“Are you going to be there too?” he asked and that was harder to answer. Your schedule was the busiest it had been in months and you were drowning in deadlines and responsibilities. You were saved from answering him by a notification on your phone. The numbers displaying the time showed that you were late to leave. You pocketed your phone and with quick goodbyes, you disappeared.

You were so stupid. You had offered to take Taehyung to an exhibition when work was wrapped around you like a noose. But you had panicked. Eliana had sent you an invitation for the opening night, promising there would be French champagne and hors d’ oeuvres. You had attended plenty of her exhibitions and had many conversations about art and life and their inter-connected philosophy while drinking champagne or wine and staring at paintings.

Although Taehyung’s situation was solved and Amelia had let you know some time ago that legally you were safe, going to the opening night didn’t sound like a good idea. There would be many journalists there who would love to write a piece about you and your sudden decision to adopt so many hybrids. They could go without you another day, that wouldn’t be too bad. Taehyung looked so hopeful and now that you had said it, you couldn’t take it back. You could text Eliana and ask her if she could meet you there one day so you could introduce her to them.

You should try and get some time off.

♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩

It was like a curse, to not be able to sleep in the very few hours you could afford to. Your bed was empty and cold and you couldn’t get comfortable regardless of how much you twisted and turned. Your limbs were too long and awkward and nothing felt right. All the wild thoughts you couldn’t be bothered with during the day showed up one after the other to be examined from every angle and set aside to pick up the next one. It was a losing battle and yet you insisted on fighting it every time before giving in, getting up and popping a pill into your mouth.

You returned the bottle to the cabinet and closed it. After Seoul, for some time it had returned to your bedside table but after a couple of weeks had passed it felt like you were admitting defeat by keeping it there. The image in the mirror was a far cry from the celebrity you were supposed to be. The darkness under your eyes formed bruises, getting worse by the day. Your skin had grown pale and your hair was a mess, you hadn’t had enough strength to braid it before attempting to fall asleep.

You considered going back to bed but the pills could take up to an hour to work when your insomnia reached its peak and you were craving a snack. Something small and sweet sounded nice.

Once again, you had returned late and eaten dinner alone. Your appetite was lacking although the food was delicious. Sometimes, it got like that when you were too tired. You had promised yourself to limit early mornings and late nights but that had changed when you had texted Eliana about the exhibition. She had offered to accompany you to the exhibition on one of the days it was closed to the public and you were more than thankful to her but that also meant that you would have to take half the day off.

The TV was on in the living room, subtitles displayed at the bottom of the screen with no sound. Namjoon was sitting on the couch, arms crossed and watching with distracted eyes. Everyone else had departed to their rooms for the night. His ears twitched as you took a few more steps and he turned to look at you.

You waved your hand, trying to offer him a smile. “Hey.”

He sat up straighter. “Hi. Why are you still awake? Do you need something?”

“Just some water. Maybe a snack.”

“You were really tired when you went to bed. Did you not fall asleep?” he asked, frowning.

You shrugged. “I couldn’t. It’s one of those nights. If I eat something, maybe I will fall asleep easier. A full stomach and all that.” You didn’t mention the pill, it was awkward to do that. “Don’t let me disturb you. I’ll just grab something and go back to bed.”

Namjoon got up and in a few strides, he was standing in front of you. He caressed your cheek, searching for something in your eyes. You weren’t sure what he could see there. “I’ll join you. Let’s sit together for a bit. I haven’t seen you properly in a few days.”

“But you must have stayed back to watch that,” you said. A documentary was playing on the TV, something about Egyptian history.

“It doesn’t matter. I would rather spend my time with you. Unless you don’t want to, then I’ll go back to the couch and be very quiet.”

You slid your hand in his, the touch grounding you in a night that felt both like you were wide awake and caught in a blurry dream. “I would like some company. I’ve missed you too. I’m–”

“Don’t say you’re sorry. There is no need for that.”

He leaned down, placing a sweet kiss on your forehead. His lips lingered for a few moments, warmth spreading inside you. You raised your head and captured his lips in a kiss. The worst part was that you couldn’t remember how long it had been since you had last shared a kiss. His lips were velvet as you remembered them. This was home. Running back and forth, you had forgotten what it felt like.

You pulled back and grabbed his hand. “Let’s go.”

In the kitchen, Namjoon stood next to you as you rummaged through the cupboards for something that looked appetizing to you. The cupboards were full and yet nothing was calling to you until Namjoon remembered that Seokjin had made ice cream sandwiches with the gelato you had bought and various kinds of cookies. That sounded like heaven so you opened the freezer and chose two of them.

You leaned against the counter, shoulder to shoulder with Namjoon, while you devoured them. Gelato might not have been the best idea to put you to sleep but they tasted heavenly. The pill would start working sooner or later.

“Is it worse today?” he asked. He didn’t elaborate further, he didn’t have to.

The ice cream sandwiches were gone and you were left holding the plate. You licked your fingers and placed it in the sink. “I have a lot of things on my mind. I should be too tired to think but apparently, I’m never too tired for that.”

“Anything in particular?”

“Everything, more or less.” You turned to the side, facing him. “There’s too much to think about and not enough time. Never enough time,” you muttered the last sentence to yourself. If you had all the time in the world it would still not be enough, you would find a way to fill it. “I’ve been putting everything off. Everything I don’t want to deal with or I don’t know how to deal with. And the longer I put it off, the worse it gets.”

He was quiet for a few seconds, taking in what you said and pondering how to reply. It was beautiful, how his mind worked and how attentive he was. “If there is any way we can help you, anything I–we can do, we will. Whatever you want to do, we will support you. Sometimes, in our head, we can make things look bigger, more scary than they are. Do you want to talk about them? Maybe if you talk about what you have to do or what you’re worried about, it will be easier to work out the best way to approach them.”

That was something your therapist used to tell you, that while things festered in your head, they would only get more tangled and more daunting. She had suggested writing them down or talking to her about them. She was right, you knew she was right and that it helped and yet you hadn’t stopped to do that.

You took a deep breath, debating if it would be better to find a notebook and figure out your mess on paper instead of dragging Namjoon into it. But there was a part of you that itched to confide in him and give in to the way you felt safe when you were together.

“I don’t even know where to start,” you confessed.

You started slowly, with your usual worries about Taehyung, how he was adjusting and how little time you were spending with him and if that was for the best. It was the same old spiralling, you had poked and prodded at it so many times and Namjoon must have been bored of listening to the same rehashed concerns, yet he didn’t interrupt you. You unravelled steadily, once you started speaking, you couldn’t stop. There was the filming for the Raven Cycle, the final touches of Six of Crows, the premiere and the weeks of promotions and the anticipation for the reviews of the critics and the audiences. The book you hadn’t finished and the deadline you couldn’t meet.

You rubbed your hands over your face. It had been so long since most of those problems had surfaced and you were ashamed that you hadn’t faced them yet. “And we haven’t told anyone about us. We said we would and I know you’re waiting for me but I’m never here. And I don’t know how.”

Namjoon caught your hand and brought it to his lips. Lowering it, his thumb rubbed soothing circles on your skin. “It doesn’t have to be complicated. They will understand and they will be happy for us. You shouldn’t let this keep you awake, everything will be alright. They are our pack, this won’t change anything.”

“But…” The anxiety that persisted. “Yoongi. What if his reaction is… bad. You know what he said.”

“That was before.” He sounded sure but there was a tightness at his jaw. “It is different now. He is different, you can see it. He is softer around the edges, he even helps Jin in the kitchen. He’s settling in.”

“Because he doesn’t know,” you said. “You remember what he said, right? That night? That I adopted you so I could take my pick and now there is Jin and it’s just too much like that, can’t you see it?”

“It’s nothing like that. We both–” Namjoon stiffened, his gaze locking somewhere towards the entrance. “Yoongi?”

Your heart rate sped up, a knot forming in your chest. Yoongi walked in, his socked feet not making a sound. How much had he heard? The last minutes of the conversation replayed in your mind in a panicked mess. What had you said? How long had he been there, listening to you, before Namjoon noticed him? What conclusions would he reach?

Instinctively, you tried to get away from Namjoon but his hold on your hand kept you there.

The panther’s face didn’t give anything away. You couldn’t read him regardless of how much you studied him. You didn’t know his tells, if he had any. His expression was a carefully curated mask of apathy and you couldn’t see past it. Or you didn’t dare to try. Maybe you were too afraid of what you would find.

“How did you know it was me?” he asked, voice missing some of its smoothness.

Namjoon held your hand tighter. “You are the only one who can sneak up on me.”

You swallowed down your anxiety and tried to think of him the way he was the past few months, when he helped you with rearranging your office, him playing the piano in the afternoons, your walk at the lake, the vague memory of him helping you up to your room when you were drunk in Virginia. But they were all pushed back by the memory of his snarl and his sharp teeth that night.

“How much did you hear?” you asked, forcing your voice to be steady. He was going to learn of it at some point and as scared as you were, you had to face this.

“Enough.” His tail curled behind him and stilled. “You are afraid of my reaction to something. Is that it?”

Your eyes locked with Namjoon’s and he nodded. This time you weren’t going to run. This time would be different. “Yes, there is something we wanted to tell you. Something we wanted to tell everyone. I didn’t know how to tell you, that’s all.”

“You can tell me now,” he said and it sounded almost like a dare. You weren’t sure if you were walking into a trap.

Namjoon spoke up before you could. “You remember that the two of us are… We are together, as humans would say, romantically.” Yoongi nodded. You couldn’t imagine how he could forget. “That extends to Jin now. We love him and he loves us.” It was almost like he was challenging him to say anything but Yoongi was quiet.

“We didn’t know how to tell everyone. And you…” You didn’t know how to finish.

He scoffed. “I was an asshole.” One side of his lips was twisted up but something about it hurt. “You didn’t want to tell me because I was an asshole when I found out about you two. Worse than an asshole.” He dropped his gaze to the floor, his shoulders were slumped as if in defeat. For a moment, you wished to reassure him but what he was saying was the truth. “I understand. I’m not– I’m happy for you. And I’m sorry.”

He turned to leave but, through your confusion, you knew you didn’t want him to go.

“Wait,” you called. He stopped but didn’t turn around. “Let’s talk. We need to talk.”

Yoongi looked at you over his shoulder. This time, you studied him without your heavy-duty lenses, without the fear of discovery. Like the expression of an actor, you picked apart the tiniest details to paint a picture. When your own barriers were gone, it was easier to see.

“What is there to talk about?” he asked.

“A lot. Things we should have talked about sooner.” Communication was a golden rule in your handbook and you used to be good at it, you tried to be good at it. The misunderstanding trope was overused and useless when the issue could be resolved with a simple conversation.

It was about time you stopped walking on eggshells.

“We never truly talked about it,” you started. “And I didn’t really want to because things were going so well. They are going well. But you are my family now.” His lips parted, only slightly but you caught it. “I can’t know how all of you see it, if it’s the same for you, but that’s the way I feel. And I want to be honest with you. I still think about what you said in the garden and sometimes it affects me more than I would like. However, I would like to put it behind us but I want to know what you think.”

His eyes were sharp but you weren’t fooled this time. “Can we? Can we really put it behind us?”

Namjoon was silent next to you, he was letting you handle it.

“I think we are already beginning to.” You took a deep breath in preparation. There was a question that could make or break this peace between you and you were both dreading and dying to ask. “Do you think that I’m taking advantage of them because I love them romantically?”

His eyes widened. “No,” he denied sharply. “No, of course I don’t.”

It was like a knot unravelling in your heart. Although there was a part of you that had known, the relief was still there. “Then we can move past it. We can try again. We are already trying again.”

“How?” Yoongi asked and he sounded smaller, much smaller than you were used to.

The pills were beginning to act, it was a light drowsiness at first. You had to do this quickly before you fell asleep and crumbled down on the floor.

“The same way we are doing now. By doing our best.”

“I am trying” His hands clenched into fists and loosened again. “I’m sorry. For everything.”

“You don’t need to be. Not anymore. As long as I know that we are fine.” Your eyes were growing heavier and the fog was slipping in. “I think we should go to bed now,” you said. It was getting more and more difficult to open your eyes.

You must have stumbled or something because you heard Yoongi ask, “Are you alright?” at the same time as Namjoon’s “Do you want help?”

You waved them both off. “I’m fine. It’s the pills.” It was easier to admit when you were almost asleep. One moment your feet were on the floor and the next you were up in the air. “Joon?”

“I’m taking you to your room. It’s time for sleep.” One of his arms was under your knees and the other was holding you close to his body.

“Namjoon, I can walk,” you protested weakly. Namjoon shushed you and you let it go. You were so incredibly sleepy and you were safe there. You relaxed in his arms and finally closed your eyes.

♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩

Most of the flowers were drooping in the garden of the Castle. Namjoon and Jimin were attempting to keep them alive for as long as possible before fall swept them away. They cut off the dead leaves, watered the plants and applied the appropriate fertilisers. There were also varieties that lasted all year and the gardener had taught them how to take care of them too.

“These won’t last much longer,” Jimin said, running his fingers gently over the petals of a slowly wilting flower.

“They will bloom again in spring,” Namjoon reassured him. “Each season has its beauty and these belong to spring and summer. Autumn has its own colors too but they are different.”

Jimin pulled his hand back and grabbed the watering can. “I know, but I will miss them.”

Namjoon patted his head and Jimin preened under his touch, chasing his hand. He was too cute sometimes and Namjoon adored him. “It’s okay to miss it but you can also be happy about the new things that are coming. Miss Roberts said she will bring sunflowers and hydrangeas to plant next week, it will add some color. When something ends, something else begins.”

Jimin giggled, watering the flowers although they would be dead next week. “Nora has told you many times to call her by her name.”

Namjoon rubbed the back of his head. “I forgot. I’m trying.”

Yoongi came out of the house, a book in his hand. He had been visiting the library more lately. Namjoon had been wondering where he had been. The rest of the pack had holed up in the cinema room to watch a comedy and, like the two of them, Yoongi had opted out but they hadn’t seen him since.

“Yoongi!” Jimin called, waving with the hand that wasn’t holding the watering can. “Come here. Sit with us, we are almost done.”

Yoongi paused, glancing at the table and benches on the other side of the garden.

“Come on,” Namjoon called for him as well. That was enough to sway Yoongi’s decision, who made his way to them.

Jimin bounced up to him, grabbing his hand and dragging him to the flower bushes they were tending to. Yoongi grumbled about the rough treatment but Namjoon wasn’t fooled, the upturn of his lips was small but unmistakable.

Jimin explained to him what they had been doing so far and Yoongi listened to him attentively.

“They are beautiful. You have been doing a really good job. Both of you,” he said, his eyes darting to Namjoon.

He was tense, it wasn’t obvious but Namjoon could pick it up. He gave him a smile, hoping he would relax. Yoongi confused him but he thought he could understand him a little better now. “Thank you. What are you reading?”

“Oh, this?” Yoongi raised the book a little and shrugged. “I saw it and I thought it was interesting.”

“I haven’t seen that before,” Namjoon said.

The cover was painted in shades of yellow and orange, framing two pyramids. Without saying anything, Yoongi handed him the book. It was called The Alchemist by Paulo Coelho and it was a relatively short book. He turned it around to look at the synopsis and Jimin peeked at it over his shoulder. Namjoon wondered if you had read it or if it had been sitting there unread on your shelves for years. There were so many books in your library and you had admitted that you hadn’t read most of them, but you had also told them that once upon a time you used to read a hundred books a year.

“It does sound interesting,” Namjoon commented, passing back the book. “You should tell me if it is any good when you finish it.”

Yoongi looked down at the book’s cover. “I will.”

Jimin declared that they were done with gardening for the day and grabbed both of their hands, pulling them to the shade underneath one of the trees. They sat down and he situated himself with his head in Namjoon’s lap and his legs in Yoongi’s. Yoongi cracked open his book and began to read while Jimin talked about flowers.

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“And… CUT!” you called. It was repeated again by Will and the actors relaxed, the expressions of their characters wiped clean. “That will be it for today. Thank you everyone!”

The crew buzzed as the cameras and the sound systems were turned off. People were talking to their earpieces and others were giving pats on the back to each other for another successful day on set. Crew members passed by and offered their congratulations to you.

“What are you rushing for?” Will asked.

You continued throwing everything carelessly into your backpack. “I’m visiting the gallery today, remember?”

“Right, that’s today,” he said, snapping his fingers. Some things stuck with you in entertainment. For example, the overexaggerated gestures. “I thought you had a company meeting dressed like this. A very important one.”

In the morning, you had put more thought into your outfit compared to a simple filming day. You were wearing tan trousers and a form-fitting black top embellished by a crossover belt that wrapped around the body and was tied together with a golden Medusa head emblem. The heels, the golden earrings, bracelets, and rings confirmed that filming wasn’t the only thing on your schedule.

You slung your backpack over your shoulder (you would switch it later with a black Dior bag you had in your car). “No meetings for me today. I really have to go. I’ll catch up with you tomorrow.”

“Have a good time, boss!”

You greeted any familiar faces on your way to your car and sent a quick message to Namjoon that you would be picking them up soon. The 8-seater car was an impulse purchase at a time when you had a larger friend group. You hadn’t used it much, only for a couple of short trips to private beaches.

You checked your appearance in the visor mirror and reapplied some powder and lipstick. You looked good enough, there wasn’t much more you could do.

The hybrids were waiting by the fountain. They had dressed nicely for the occasion, wearing some of the more formal outfits you had bought for them. You could feel the excitement in the air as they climbed into the car. It had been a long time since you had gone to the city like this. Jimin was quick to slide into the passenger seat, followed by a little happy dance at his success.

The exhibition was taking place in Central Los Angeles, housed in a tall and wide building that appeared to be made up of several cubes that jutted out of the main structure. Jungkook and Hoseok had their phones out, taking photos of the strange building. Distantly, you remembered coming here before but you couldn’t place when or why.

Eliana was waiting for you inside wearing a simple flowing blue dress and a large smile. You greeted each other with a hug and proceeded to introduce the boys to her. She shook their hands enthusiastically and in a few seconds she had already engaged them in a conversation about art. Usually, she talked quickly like she was rushing to get everything out before she forgot but she was talking slowly now, using simpler words and waiting for Hoseok to translate whenever he deemed he should.

She guided you through the gallery, floating ahead of you. She gave explanations of some of her works while she let others speak for themselves. Taehyung’s eyes were sparkling while she talked, in a way you had never seen before. His smile stayed on during your whole visit, big and boxy, and you finally felt like you were doing something right.

The other hybrids seemed to be enjoying themselves as well. Namjoon was asking plenty of questions about the meaning behind the paintings and her inspiration and Jungkook was very interested in the more technical aspect of her work. She readily answered all of their questions and when you pointed out that Jungkook spent a lot of his time painting, she encouraged him to show her some of his work. Although he was shy, hiding behind his floppy ears at first, Eliana managed to convince him to show her a few of the paintings he had on his phone. She was stunned when you told her he had only been painting for a few months and Jungkook grew even shier when she showered him in compliments.

At the end of the tour, she let you wander the gallery by yourselves for some time and then suggested going to the gallery’s gardens to hang out. The gardens were of considerable size, about as large as the inside of the gallery. Neatly trimmed flower bushes lined the pathways and plenty of modern sculptures decorated the space. A large fountain stood proudly in the middle and there was an artfully made gazebo raised on a platform at a far corner, overlooking the gardens.

You offered to go get some coffee and some baked goods from a nearby bakery/coffee shop you had found on the internet. Eliana protested at first but she gave in quickly at the promise of an iced Spanish latte and muffins. Namjoon volunteered to accompany you, although what surprised you was Yoongi offering to come along.

“You need more than two people to carry everything,” was the only explanation you got. You couldn’t deny that he was right.

He hadn’t been acting any different towards you since you had let him know about the nature of your relationship with Seokjin, so you acted the same way you always did too. His quiet acceptance was more than enough for you and it was a great weight off your shoulders.

You were talking about the exhibition, not surprised that Yoongi had been paying close attention to the paintings as he recalled his favorites, when a call of your name surprised you. The voice was familiar and, for a few seconds, you couldn’t place it. Until you could. And the peace froze over.

You turned around to find Jacob waving at you in the quiet street. His hair was cut much shorter than the last time you had seen him and his white loose pants and half-unbuttoned shirt made him look like he had just stepped off a yacht party. Maybe he had. His thousand-watt smile, reminiscent of a politician, was fixed firmly on his face.

“Hey, I knew it was you,” he said when he caught up with you, like he had won a prize. He pulled you into a quick hug and you didn’t know what to do with your hands until he let you go. “Haven’t seen you in ages.”

You wiped invisible dust from your trousers. “Yeah, I’ve been very busy.”

“You were never one for rest, right? The woman always running, always working, never has time for anything else,” he joked and it shouldn’t bother you the way it did. He gestured to Yoongi and Namjoon, “Aren’t you going to introduce us?”

Namjoon looked politely curious and Yoongi downright uninterested.

“Right,” you said. “This is Yoongi and Namjoon. And this is Jacob.”

Their eyes sharpened the moment you uttered the name.

“I’m just Jacob now?” he asked, eyebrows raised. “After three years? Not even a friend?”

“I don’t know. It isn’t like we’ve spoken since last year.”

Initially after your breakup, you used to imagine how your next meeting would go and how the two of you would act around each other. Three years was a long time to share your life with someone to then go back to being strangers. You hadn’t entertained the idea much since then, you had found yourself thinking about him less and less. Still, whenever you thought about meeting him, you hadn’t anticipated the bitterness that grazed your insides.

Jacob chuckled awkwardly. “Well, you said you were busy. I have been busy as well, I’m working with a few very big names, you know. I got my hands on some of the best songs of the year.”

“I’m sure they’re great.”

“Haven’t you listened to any of them? You must have heard a few of them. They were everywhere.” Jacob was talented enough and well-connected and he sure liked to brag about it. “I asked Zayn and he said you were doing well, working of course. And you got yourself some company too.”

You clenched your jaw to bite back the harshness burning on the tip of your tongue. You hated the way he said it and the way it reminded you of your mother.

“It was a bit of a surprise, I’ll admit. I don’t remember you ever talking about adopting, you didn’t seem a big fan of the idea. No offense of course,” he directed the last part to Namjoon and Yoongi.

“Things change,” you said dismissively. “We have to go. There are people waiting for us.”

Jacob’s smile didn’t falter but his eyes narrowed a fraction for only a second. He may only be part of your past but you could still read him well. Was it the same for him? Had he ever been able to read you in the first place?

“Of course,” he said. “I’ll see you around.”

“Sure.”

You turned around and started walking, Namjoon and Yoongi following you. Last year you loved him enough to move in with him and this year you couldn’t stand to be in his presence. You thought you would feel nothing when you’d see him again but the truth was that everything about him irritated you. His poised smile, his bragging, his nonchalance.

Why was he able to get under your skin like this? You were over him, you didn’t want anything to do with him. But you were supposed to be civil, uninterested like the heroines who didn’t raise more than an eyebrow in the direction of their exes. It irked you and the way he looked at Namjoon and Yoongi irked you more. You had defended him to everyone, he wasn’t a bad guy, he didn’t treat you badly but as time passed you were starting to realize some things you couldn’t see clearly before.

Yoongi was the first one to speak up when you had almost reached the coffee shop, “What an asshole.”

“He isn’t–” You stopped yourself and laughed. “You know what? He is, a little bit.”

“A little bit?” he repeated, doubtfully.

“I don’t want to judge but…” The way Namjoon paused told you everything you needed to know. “I had to try very hard to stop myself from growling at him.”

Yoongi smirked. “Down, wolf.” Namjoon ignored him.

“Thank you for not doing that, that wouldn’t have ended well. Please, don’t growl at people.”

“I don’t know if I can promise that.”

Well, you couldn’t say that you minded that much. You could admit to yourself that Namjoon growling was kind of hot. And if the situation called for it…

“I didn’t like the way he spoke to you,” Namjoon said. “It was weird. There was something about it that was wrong, almost demeaning.”

“He can be like that sometimes. Like he is above almost everyone else, like some things are beneath him. He would make those stupid comments and I would always try to ignore them,” He was always supportive of your career and proud of your success but he had never shown interest in any of your other hobbies and likes. Reading was boring, paintings were overrated and overpriced, drinking tea was pretentious. “I never thought I would be one of those shit-talking their exes unless they did something really bad.”

“I support this shit-talking,” Namjoon said.

“I do too,” Yoongi agreed.

It made a strangely pleasant feeling run up your spine. “We’re here,” you said, instead of continuing the conversation. According to Google Maps, you had arrived at the coffee shop.

As you walked inside, you might have heard Yoongi saying lowly to Namjoon, “I kind of wanted to punch him.”

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You were sitting on the chair in front of your vanity, braiding your hair and stuck thinking of the same scene. Before going to his room for the night, Taehyung had approached you and thanked you for taking him to the exhibition. His expression was sincere and you finally felt like you were moving in the right direction.

When there was a knock at your door, you already knew who it was before you called for them to come in.

“Can we sleep here tonight?” Jimin asked, Jungkook draped over his back.

“When have I ever told you no?” you asked, finishing your braid and securing it in place with a silky scrunchy. “Go on.”

They both hopped on the bed, bouncing a little and sharing delightful smiles. You watched them through the mirror as they rolled around, holding each other.

Jimin looked up from where he was tangled with Jungkook, holding your gaze through his reflection. “Are you coming?”

“I am, I am,” you said, putting your brush back in the drawer.

You joined them on the bed, their hands quickly reaching for you and situating you between them like the last time. Jimin purred in contentment, rubbing his face in your collarbones. Jungkook held onto your arm and you could feel his breath caressing your neck with how close he was lying.

An unwanted echo of what Jacob had said entered your mind. Always working, never having time for anything else or anyone else, even the ones most important to you. You were gone most of the days and it made sense that they wanted to be close to you at least at night.

“Did you have fun today?” you asked them to distract yourself.

“I loved it! Eliana was so nice and her paintings were incredible,” Jimin said. “I took so many photos, my phone must be full of them.”

Jungkook nuzzled up closer to you. “I took many photos too. Can we print the one we took of us all together? I want to put it in our room.”

“Yes, please,” Jimin added cutely.

“Of course. You should print a couple more too, if you want, and choose some pretty frames for them. There is a lot of free space in your room.”

They cheered a little. You lied there in comfortable silence but you could detect a nervous energy in the air. It was in the way Jimin was fidgeting with the hem of your silk night shirt and how tightly Jungkook was gripping your arm. You waited until they were ready.

“We actually… we have something to tell you,” Jimin said.

“Anything you want, kitten,” you said, running your fingers through his hair. You could see how the use of the nickname affected him, squirming a little as his smile grew sweeter. “You know you can tell me anything.”

“I just–” He looked at Jungkook, who gave him an encouraging nod. “I kissed him, we kissed. And… it makes me very happy.”

Jungkook caught Jimin’s hand that was pulling at your shirt and intertwined their fingers, laying their joint hands on your stomach. “He makes me very happy too,” he said in a small voice.

The new knowledge was like a puzzle piece sliding into place. It felt natural to you that their relationship would progress like that. The way they looked at each other, the way they touched each other, was evidence of a deeply intimate connection. If the image your mind conjured of them kissing lit a spark in your chest, you hid it even from yourself.

“Thank you for telling me. If it makes you happy, then I am happy too. All I want for you is to be happy and know how loved you are. Come here.” You pulled them closer and placed lingering kisses on their foreheads. “I will always support you. Always.” You took a decision then. You couldn’t put it off any longer. “I have something to tell you too. Jimin already knows but Jungkook, I would like for you to know too. I don’t know how to say this exactly and I’m sorry we’ve kept this from you but I, Namjoon and Jin have been romantically involved. All of us. We have been kissing too.”

“Oh.” Jungkook paused. “That makes sense.” You couldn’t help but laugh at that, Jimin joining you. “I mean you’re very close and it just makes sense. We’re pack and I think that most packs are a little in love with each other, in one way or another,” he said. His cheeks felt hot against your shoulder.

In one way or another. He was right, it was such a special bond and you could imagine that for hybrids who felt the sense of pack deeper, the lines were easily blurred. A door opened in your mind but you closed it again forcefully.

Jimin fit his face in the crook of your neck. “I love you. I love you so much, all of you. Our pack. I don’t know how I got so lucky to have you. I don’t know if I deserve this.” His voice was wet.

“You do,” you stated. “You deserve everything and more. And we love you so much. So much.”

Jungkook squeezed his hand. “We love you, Jiminie. Our pack wouldn’t be complete without you. We need you to be whole. We need everyone.”

Their hands remained linked over your abdomen as you fell asleep.

Please comment and reblog it motivates me to keep writing

#bts #bts x reader #bts hybrid au #namjoon x reader #jimin x reader #jungkook x reader #hoseok x reader #yoongi x reader #seokjin x reader #taehyung x reader #bts angst #poly!bts x reader #bts poly #bts fic #bts scenarios #bts hurt/comfort #fluff

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jeonscatalyst · 11 days

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So something I have been thinking since the beginning of AYS. I think JM and JK give themselves away. How someone can look at their behavior and not realize these two have more than a friendship/brotherly vibe. Before I go on a tangent, what I am I trying to say again 🤔. Ohh right. In the previews, we see JK and JM have a pillow in-between them as they sit on the couch while watching TV. Why the damn pillow in-between like it's so obvious! That hug when JM wanted JK to feel how cold he was, I mean. Just go ahead and proper. They crack me up. It's too late. We already know you are together. If they just acted normal 😅. To be honest, I don't blame them it's hard faking not being in a relationship.

Ah I have found my person!

Anon, I have been in this fandom for over 7 years and spent about 5 out of those 7 years being a Jikooker and all through my years in this fandom, I have seen many jikookers give different reasons why they believe Jikook are a together but not many people started seeing them as more for the same reason I did.

I have mentioned before that for me, it was never about the GCFs, the soft looks, the touches or any moments that could be described as soft or romantic or beautiful. For me it was always those moments that many Jikookers don’t like to look at or even talk about. The first thing that made me do a double take on Jikook was fetus Jikook. You see, I wasn’t always a shipper and I was one of those people who actually thought it was silly as hell that people could even believe that any of the members could be in a romantic relationship especially because of things like skinship which is the most common thing among korean men but one day I watched a long compilation on Youtube of fetus Jikook and my mind began to change. You see, when I watched that video and read comments many people were either mad at Jk for being an asshole to Jimin while others felt sorry for Jimin and some were mad that Jimin had to put up with all of that from Jungkook but one look at it and I knew that wasn’t normal at all especially because when I joined the fandom at the beginning of 2017, I spent alot of time reading their interviews and catching up on old content (somehow I didn’t really notice the fetus Jikook bickering or push and pull alot) but one opinion I remember having was that Jk kinda liked being around Jimin and hovering. So when I watched that compilation showing Jk basically being an ass to Jimin, that was the first time I thought “maybe shippers are unto something” because what I was seeing Jk do in the compilation was very conflicting with everything I had learned about Jikook and the opinion I had about them as a duo. I didn’t necessarily think they were the closest but I didn’t think Jk had any ill feelings towards Jimin.

You see anon, one thing I understood while being in this fandom is that, how people interpret or perceive other’s actions and words depends more on them than the people whose actions they are interpreting. Without certain experiences, it is almost impossible for one to understand certain things. Your culture, environment, people around, personal experiences and basically what you are used to, shapes the way you see the world and that is why one person could see a 9 while another person sees a 6. Some people have grown up believing that couples are always soft with each other or with couples it is always smiles and rainbows and roses, you know watching a lot of romance movies or fantasy will do that to you or even only experiencing those first stages of normal romantic relationships will trick you into believing such things. Some people don’t understand context and nuances at all and so they could never understand Jikook even if they wanted to.

It never made any sense to me that we saw Jungkook pushing Jimin away or shoving him in walls or ranking him last in looks yet this same person would choose to put blankets outside to sleep with Jimin at night, or this same person’s would go to cuddle Jimin in his sleep or this same person would be seen hovering around Jimin alottt and wanting to touch him or feel him up (fetus Jk was not subtle). Jungkook already knew that he got his comfort mostly from Jimin. He already understood that the reason he teased Jimin alot was because he really liked him and I think Jungkook’s occasional “bitchy” behaviour towards Jimin was him panicking and not knowing how to deal with Jimin who was obnoxiously loud about how he felt for Jungkook. Jungkook never hated being around Jimin or being touched by Jimin like many people would like to believe because if he did, he would never choose to go spend his nights with Jimin. If he did, he would never go to hug Jimin in his sleep or pile clothes on his bed to go sleep in Jimin’s bed. He clearly loved being around Jimin so how else could anyone explain his behaviour infront of the cameras?

Watching Bangtan, anyone would quickly understand that these boys don’t understand the concept of personal space when it comes to each other. I saw this video on X the other day and it made me laugh…

This is not even the most accurate example I can use but you see how glued they are to each other? Like no care in world. They shower together, sleep together, eat after each other, that is normal for them so explain to me why on earth Jimin and Jungkook would have to put a pillow inbetween them when they sit even though we know for a fact that being glued is literally like second nature to the members?

This is how Jimin and Jungkook give themselves away everytime because you can literally see that sometimes they get overly cautious in a bid to not give too much away but they don’t realize that by doing this, they are actually giving too much away because we know that the members usually don’t have any issues sitting even untop of each other. It’s just like I had once said that when you have nothing to hide, you feel as free as a bird but when you do, you start doing even unnecessary things not to come off suspicious. Why would they need a pillow inbetween them to just sit on a damn couch? If these two are just friends or bros why on earth do they need a pillow? If it was normal to see the members respecting each other’s personal space then we could just see this too as normal but we know that these same people seated right here are the same ones who have had their mouths on various erogenous parts of each other’s bodies so why?

Like you said, if jikook acted normal then I wouldn’t have ever suspected or thought that they are more than friends but the truth is that they don’t act normal at all and this is something everyone can agree on, regardless of whether they see things in a negative or positive way, everyone can agree that Jikook don’t act normal at all and it’s been like this since they were younger.

I have mentioned before that I could never see what taekookers see in Taekook because there is just way too much comfort in their interaction for them to be closeted idols in a romantic relationship. You never see any panic, you never see them acting as if they have something to hide. I have seen some taekookers say that they know that Jikook are not together because their skinship is usually very short or abrupt while taekook’s take longer and I was like ofcourse theirs would take longer because those two have nothing to hide the same way Jk’s skinship with any other member who isn’t Jimin takes longer and they seem more comfortable doing it because they are not worried about how they would come off because those actions are completely innocent. With Jikook, there is a panic and when they start going on at, it doesn’t take long for them to snap out of it and then you see them immediately stopping which sometime makes their interactions come off as awkward.

Imagine yourself in a secret romantic relationship where you are almost always infront of dozens of cameras and staff, who would feel 100% at ease in situations like this? That is why Jikook’s interactions sometimes come off clunky or awkward because of this while you never really sense this with any of the other members interactions. I can sit through any other duo’s interactions without feeling second hand embarrassment, shy or slightly awkward but with Jikook, I go through about 20 different emotions while watching them and that is how I know they are….different. So because not everyone understands the contexts or nuances, they would immediately see this as something bad while someone who understands the context and nuances in this situation expects to see this kinds of interactions. Many people unfortunately are not very smart because if they were, they would really ask themselves why Jk seems to hate Jimin’s touches so much (according to them) or hates being around Jimin so much (according to them) yet this same Jk is the one who voluntarily goes to knock on Jimin’s door everynight at 1am. Why did this same Jk choose to sleep on the floors outside their rooms with Jimin instead of sleeping with Tae or some other member? Why did this same Jk choose to spend majority of his nights and downtime with this person? Why did this same Jk pile clothes on his bed to go sleep in Jimin’s bed? Why did Jk keep going to sleep in Jihope’s room everynight? What was he doing with Jimin at 4am on his birthday after they had already moved out of the dorm and were living in personal apartments? Which one of you knows anyone who would do this if they really didn’t like someone and literally loved being around them? Also, notice how each and everytime we “caught” Jikook in positions where they never expected cameras or weren’t aware of cameras they were always glued to each other and Jungkook especially had no issues being in Jimin’s personal space?

This is one of those cases where someone either gets it or they don’t because it is kinda hard to explain and the truth is, to really understand these kinds of things, you probably need to have experienced something like this or atleast know someone very close who has.

Jikook as a romantic pair was never meant to make sense to alot of people because not very many people have critical thinking skills, not very people know how to piece tiny details together to really understand a situation. So often, people form opinions after watching one single piece of content without caring to look at the history of things. I saw a taekooker say that Jk hated Jimin’s music style because Jk said their show will fail if Jimin sang the OST he joked about singing and you could clearly tell this person is one of those who literally don’t care about context or history because everyone and their mama knows how much Jk enjoys and has always enjoyed Jimin as an artist and a performer and he has made it clear on several occasions just how much he loves the music Jimin makes.

Like I said, Jikook is not meant to be understood by everyone. If everyone understood them then that would mean they weren’t doing something right.

#jikook #jimin #jungkook #jikook blog #my asks #are you sure

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bonny-kookoo · 9 months

Note

Here to tell you I still very much love baby darling and would love to see how things are progressing with them or any tidbits you’d like to share

(I’m still shit at coming up with Drabble prompts 🫣🥺)

Thank you for not forgetting them (I love them)

"I told you not to get me anything!" Jungkook laughs as you put the small wrapped up present on his lap where he's sitting on your couch.

"Its just something small..." you mumble, sitting down next to him while you watch him trace the spots where the tape holds the wrapping paper together. "Open it." You suggest, but he bites his lip.

"But it's packed so nicely. Did you wrap it yourself?" He asks, and you nod. "Fuck no, it's so pretty, I don't wanna ruin it!" He says, making you reach for it to open it- but he holds it away. "Hey, no! That's mine!" He snaps playfully.

"I'll take it back then-" you giggle, and he instead catches your lips for a quick kiss, successfully making you sit properly again.

"Hm, you're so easy to tame." He chuckles, before he sighs and moves to open it, fingers carefully ripping the paper. "What is it.?" He wonders, opening the simple cardboard box to find a selection of silver and anodized metal jewelry- the rainbow shine of those particular pieces catching his interest. But it's only when he inspects them further, noticing the weight and tiny imprint on them, that he realizes something. "Wait- that's actual titanium? Surgical steel? Silver?" He gasps, eyes wide as he unpacks a pair of rings. "Baby those must've been expensive-"

"But your lip got uhm.. it was all red and you mentioned it was because your skin.. reacts to cheap metals and stuff." You shrug. "So I got you some that won't hurt." You say, and he looks at you with wonder.

You listen. You remember.

You care.

He carefully puts the box on the table to fetch his backpack he brought since he's sleeping over, where he takes out a larger, way more chaotically wrapped item, bow somewhat holding its shape.

"Hey, you didn't stick to the agreement either!" You complain with laughter, when he urges you to open it with almost.. worried anticipation. And once you unwrap it, a soft, round and velvety snorlax plush sits in your lap, your hands holding its paws, felt claws triangle shaped.

"You.. I saw you looking at it last time we were out at the mall." He mumbles. "I'm not sure.. I hope you didn't buy it already, they didn't have the larger one anymore-"

You move to hug him, and that's answer enough for that second as his arms wrap around you.

"Thank you for feeding my plushy addiction." You say ibto his neck, and he laughs.

"Welll, to be fair, this dude could stay in bed while we fuck, since his eyes are close- ow!" He laughs when you use that mentioned snorlax to hit him, toy nowhere near hard enough to hurt.

And in that moment, he realizes he's found his place.

Right here, at your side.

#bts imagine #bts fanfic #bts fic #jungkook imagine #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook imagine #bts jungkook imagine #bts jungkook fanfic

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hollyhomburg · 1 year

Text

Before I Leave you (Pt.53)

(Omegaverse au, Mafia au, Bts x Reader)

Summary: A snippet of the future- a flash forward- in which you and jimin reach an agreement.

Tags: Pleasure dom Jimin, pillow princess m/c, oral (f. receiving), fingering, pussy spanking, excessive squirting, knotting, Overstimulation, Dacryphilia, Breeding kink, Jimin gets a little mean once he tastes her slick, slick-drunk minnie, talks of safe words but no safeword usage, talks of gender and sex, murder, talking ill of the dead, assassin! jimin, implied autistic! jimin, Flash Forwards, intentionally vague moments, brief mention of mommy/daddy kink, brief talks of clothing control

W/c: 10.0k

A/N: please be patient with me regarding the rut chapter ie the chapter after this one! i’m visiting my brother next week in LA so!!! please recommend me some stuff to do in la! i’m hoping it’s going to be a restful trip but ngl…it’s not looking great…. i don’t like planning things that other people are going to potentially not enjoy 😠 i’m meant to be a passenger princess threw and threw

Previous Chapter - Masterlist

(Flash Forward, 6 days after Namjoon’s rut, Jimin)

Jimin lays out the plastic sheeting with a ripple. Making sure it covers most of the corners and the baseboards of the back room of the house. Taking more effort than usual not to be messy.

It would look normal to anyone else as you watch him work from the hallway. But you have a lurch in your stomach as Jimin fucks with the plastic, making sure it lies flat.

Jimin setting out plastic sheeting would look totally normal to you if you didn’t have an inkling of all the other times he’s probably done it. How many times has he watched blood and viscera soak plastic? How many times has he melted it after at high heat to destroy DNA evidence?

You watch him work, feeling like you’re witnessing something you shouldn’t.

But today, if you happen to have an accident and drip paint onto the floor, Yoongi will refinish them anyways. You’re just glad you’re not painting the sunroom red.

That's the plan for the day. Primer, paint rollers, the whole shebang. They litter the 10 x 10 room like fallen soldiers. At this point, you've helped Yoongi paint just about every room in the house. This will be the last one for a little while.

The sunroom at the end of the hall is the last unfinished room in the house. Mostly unused due to its decrepit aura until now. The space is sunlit in the afternoon light, no longer dampened by the old dirty windows.

Today is the first day since Namjoon’s rut that everyone’s been out of the house. It’s just you and Jimin here. The quiet feels overfull, like something is lingering overhead, a storm or a fever yet to break.

Jimin straightens when he sees you through the mottled windows- not quite frosted but ripply, like looking through water. Yoongi put the doors back on finally yesterday after the workmen left. Hobi and Jin helped him hold the doors in place while he put them back on their hinges and you and Tae and Jungkook cooked while Jimin and namjoon opened all the windows to rid the house of the smell of strangers.

He was mindful of the strangers, as had the rest of the pack been yesterday with no less than 5 of them here. Tae’s hand had been practically glued to your lower back, herding you towards a secluded corner in the library room for some cuddling and a nap. Yoongi had been worried about them possibly breaking his labour of love.

They’re similar to the door he put in for Tae’s library only this one is varying textures of mottled glass, most opaque, but some clear with white ribbons or rainbow films like bubbles.

Yesterday was a little bit hard for Namjoon especially with his post-rut pheromones already elevated. But the windows are finally done, and no more strangers need to set foot in your house for the foreseeable future, and that’s something.

It’s been a race against time. As the temperature begins to plummet the windows have finally been tended to, the drafty space transformed into a sunlit puddle that captures the afternoon light like a suncatcher. Hopefully, it will help the pack wait out the winter months and fend off any seasonal depression which more than a few packmates are prone to.

Yoongi doesn't like to name names but Tae and Hobi are vulnerable that way. Like stout magnolia trees and pink echinacea their happiness is prone to bouts of dormancy.

You wandered in here with Yoongi and Jin last night after dinner to talk colors. A glass in each of your hands full of Sweet pink wine, the kind that Tae likes. She would have joined you, had the pack alpha not pulled her and hobi and a dejectedly shy Jimin into some alpha bonding time upstairs.

“We can’t paint every room in this house varying shades of pink hyung, even if it’s for Tae.” The word sounds especially sweet on Yoongi’s tongue; Jin is the only one Yoongi can ever call ‘hyung’. A special sort of pet name between the two of them.

The pack omega had curled especially close to your mate with you happily sandwiched between them. Your fingers hooked into Yoongi's pocket and Jin's sleeve. He'd pressed his pink button mouth to Yoongi’s easily, the way he’d kissed the beta a thousand times. And replied stubbornly “Why can’t we?”

Yoongi always aquiecess, even if he is a little stressed, “Remember Jungkook’s already chosen lilac for the outside. you’ll hate it if it clashes”

"I want to paint stars on the ceiling with glow in the dark paint and maybe the outside too!"

Jin had saved another special kiss for you, just as soft as the one he gave your mate. "Of course you do sweetheart." Yoongi had only sighed, and pulled out his phone to look it up.

They’d settled on a shade of salmon pink this morning when they went to home depot (and coffee, because any outing with the pack omega is sort of a date). the color is so light it looks almost white in the morning and honey in the afternoon. Not quite as dove slipper pink as the upstairs closet, or as muted terracotta as the pack’s bedroom.

There are several different colors of pink and red sitting by the doorway, mini bottles that the pack used for swatches. Not just pink but yellow too (the color you thought you wanted to paint your bathroom once upon a time) and dark teal blue (the color Yoongi had chosen for your bedroom).

Of course, no painting can happen until the ceiling is fixed. (Yoongi started peeling back the paint, intent to fix it before you started, only to find that the whole corner was rotted out. If Yoongi gets back from Home Depot with a drywall patch by a reasonable hour, you might be able to start tomorrow. until then, you and Jimin will prime the living daylights out of the trim.

Jimin spots you and flushes- a light pink on his cheeks a shade redder than the color in the paint buckets. “Hey,” he says, soft, pausing. Sheepish at being discovered.

“That’s not-“ you gesture to the plastic sheeting, leaning up against the doorframe. “For me, is it?”

“Yes,” Jimin says. Then he bobs, urgent when he realizes what you mean, what just the two of you in the house means. His grip on the screwdriver goes slack. “No! not in that-“ but then he sees your grin and realizes that you’re just teasing him.

His plush lips pout. Round and glossy like he kissed Tae earlier and hadn't remembered to wipe away traces of her lip gloss. Seeing that is enough for you to get a bit of pep in your step. “That really isn’t something we should even tease about-“ You drum your fingers on the doorframe smiling nonetheless.

He opens his arms, and you fold yourself closer to him, stepping over the layer of plastic and drop cloth, and- is that canvas? It’s pleasantly rough beneath your bare feet. His hands smooth up your tank top to your upper back. Your tank top hides very little of you- but Jimin supposes that’s half the draw. The thin straps don't give you too much support. He tries not to get distracted by the faint squish as you press your whole body up against his chest.

Before, he might not have really mused on the slight differences between hugging you and the others but now Jimin’s gotten used to calculating the differences in gender the last few weeks, more important now because it affects Tae. You nuzzle into his chest and then pull back, Jimin’s eyes are puffy, his scent is normal and his hair is washed but-

“You look...“ Jimin scrubs a hand across his cheekbones, trying to banish the slight haunted look in his eyes. Not like there's something weighing on him but weighing on his soul.

“I know I look like shit.”

“It’s okay, I like my alphas a little bit ruffled.” You tease, but your eyes flash from his face to his chest and back again. “Is it about Tae?” Jimin looks away rubbing his cheek. And you know that’s a yes without having him confirm it. Jimin's anguish and happiness can always be boiled down to her.

Especially given what happened during Namjoon's Rut.

“I wanted to ask you for something. A favor.”

You wait. Through the window you watch the trees bob in the wind, the train chugs passed, its lights as limey yellow as the ginkgo trees that lay interspersed with the pine trees on the edge of your property. Not quite as orange opulence as the tall maple tree that plunges your backyard in shadow. You watch as some of the oak leaves are tossed onto your narrow back lawn, a space that any of you rarely venture to because it’s steep and because it tends to be a little mossy and muddy.

Jimin tugs you to the floor, helping you sit cross-legged without teetering. The layers of plastic and cloth on the floor make it a little slippery and a bit squishy. It's a little bit more comfortable than it might be ordinarily.

Jimin hesitates and his scent goes sour, not exactly angry or overstimulated sour (the kind of scent you’re more used to when it comes from him) but more scared sour. Sharp and grating to your senses the kind of angry alpha scent that once upon a time would have had you ducking for cover.

You shuffle closer to him smoothing your hand over his knee. "Minnie, what's got you so spooked, why are you so nervous? You know you can tell me anything. Literally."

Your attempt at being funny does little to soothe him. Jimin talks quickly when he's nervous. A habit he definitely picked up from Tae.

“Like with you and Namjoon- like with his rut. I don’t want our first time to be in the heat of the moment. I don’t want to do this without thinking because I feel like- when I do that I fuck up, and I might fuck it up with you. If there are two things I’m most scared of it's fucking it up with you and Tae.”

But it's more than that. Jimin knows that since Namjoon's rut, Tae has pulled you into her favorite secluded corners of the house more often than not. That you've chased those hidden moments of pleasure with love confessions.

Is he surprised that you've begun to fuck like rabbits now? A little. Not because he's been excluded from it (Not excluded intentionally, it's just that you spend most of your moments together late at night or in the afternoon before he comes home, and he comes back to the house to find you both smelling sweet and sated.)

You haven't stolen his soulmate from him. It's more like you've uncovered a layer to her that Jimin hadn't even known existed. A flower that he just thought was a bud, a dandelion turned puffy-wish. Only more spectacular than that, because if Jimin could choose one flower to represent Tae it would take fields and fields of them, and probably Hobi's help to make the levels of pretty match properly.

Is it Tae's hormones? Tae has never been the most sexual creature, at least not compared to other packmates. Jimin practically wanted to live inside her skin. To consume his lovers again and again until their pleasure became a part of him.

It's not that Jimin's love language is sex (at least not the way Kookie might consider it his) It's just that there's something about the way he loves that's all-consuming. Perfectionistic almost. Jimin will love them well, and learn how to fuck them well- because he simply won't compromise for anything less.

Tae would say that there's something about the way that he loves that's all poetry. Not at all Plath or Service but maybe Wilde if Tae is feeling particularly sentimental for the person she’s doing her best to leave behind. In Tae's words- and she's written books and books of poems about Jimin at this point- Jimin's love is all:

Let me press my lips to your skin and make every inch known, my lips the pen and your moans the ink, let me show you how good 'good' can feel. Let me do it again and again until bliss feels boring. Let me claim your pleasure as proof of how much I am yours and you are mine. Let me make you hope for nights quiet. For afternoons spent in sheets. Let me make you scorn the morning.

But then again, you're the only one who's read Tae's poetry; so really Jimin has no idea.

Tae has always been the least sexually active of all the packmates, even compared to Yoongi. Jimin knows it’s a bit prejudiced; to think of Betas as being less sexually active especially when he knows the kind of kinky shit Yoongi liked to get up to before you. But there was a time when Tae's sexual activity outside of rut was few and far between. Jimin knows because he and Jin tracked it one year.

Which is why your cries of "Mommy! Mommy please" That Jimin has overheard on more than one occasion over the past two or three weeks- even before Namjoon's rut- coming from the library room- is so strange.

He'd noted the subtle sound of a chair creaking back and forth and a wet slap every now and then and had not had the strength to peer through the more translucent sections of the glass door. But the encounter had left him with his cheeks hot and his pants uncomfortably tight. A hot shower and the warmth of his own fist had left him feeling only guilty, not satisfied. It was the first time that Jimin had ever felt... unwelcome in the pack's escapades.

Maybe he's a little hurt too- because you hadn't come to him and asked to call him Daddy too. That special pet Name remains reserved for the pack omega.

The packs dynamic is also something that tae’s been mostly left out of, in the hierarchy somewhere in the middle in only the barest of terms. because tae has never been interested in the dominant and submissive shit the rest of the pack gets up to.

And yet Jimin doubts this is something you forced on her, doubts that anything about your relationship isn't organic and natural. Which leaves only one possible conclusion;

Jimin simply cannot fuck Tae the way you can. There is something more, that you do better when it comes to loving her that Jimin lacks.

It's stupid to feel insecure, Jimin has loved Tae for almost his whole life. But jealousy is only a secondary emotion when it comes to you and tae- the primary one Is relief. (and also guilt, but Jimin feels sort of guilty about everything so that’s barely a blip in his radar).

You can’t be scared of change forever. He can’t be scared of change when it’s staring him right in the face when you’re sitting pretty and cute and representative of everything Jimin wants not only for Tae but for himself too. Of course, just because you know how to give Tae what she needs doesn't mean Jimin should be complacent.

Jimin puts down the screwdriver, and the last bit of paint cracked open. “After this last week, It’s clear to me that I don’t know how to love women right.” You read into his words. And suddenly standing there feels a lot less normal, your back straightens, mouth falling into a little ‘oh’. There is a stain on the edge of your checkered gingham shorts, the kind you like to wear when you sleep. Suddenly it feels like it matters that you're not put together.

It's okay, Jimin's going to take you apart today anyways.

Jimin's eyes are intense and focused when he stares you down. “I want you to teach me- I want you to teach me how to make love to Tae properly- the way you do.”

Your breath comes in one stuttering gasp and-

Jimin promptly takes one of the tubes of paint, a light blue- the same light blue that you ended up painting the upstairs bathroom, and squishes it out onto the canvas below you. Near your hand but not on it.

The breath you were holding rushes out in a single jagged laugh, “Okay, now I’m lost- I thought the whole point of the plastic and drop cloths was not to get paint on them.”

The look he shoots you asks you to suspend your disbelief and tugs you closer by your knee, "Sit closer so that I can spread more around you." He starts dishing out the other colors. Enough careful drops of paint that it would take a lot of concentration to get out of the room without tracking dark blue or pink or yellow or red halfway across the house.

You wonder what exactly Jimin plans to do to you. Paint included. He puts out a spurt of yellow paint on your side and then another.

Surely sooner rather than later, noodle is going to wander in here in search of a pool of sunlight, track his paws or tail through the paint and leave pawprints everywhere throughout the house. Yoongi will probably complain about them, but you might make him keep them instead of washing them away.

When he’s finished, Jimin turns a yellow tube over in his hands. Back and forth, the cap flashing like a rising and setting small yellow sun. Jimin’s voice is low when he speaks, near reverent. “You’re the first woman I was ever with- that I ever knew I was with.”

It’s an admission and an admonishment, one that you and the rest of your pack have been tiptoeing around. Even though Tae’s a woman now she hadn’t always been. While new lines in the sand are drawn that doesn’t mean the old lines totally fade away. It will take a few more cycles of low and high tide to completely grow used to this.

Jimin fiddles with a small red tube of paint. “I’m a rigid person, I know I am. I don’t like change most of the time and I know, I know things shouldn’t be so planned, I know that’s not the way things usually go but-” You nuzzle close to Jimin, and his words extinguish into a sigh. His hands cradle your sides, the same place he always likes to hold, between your shoulder blade and your ribcage.

You peck under his jaw, “But you need them to be this way sometimes. Planned? So you can make sure everything’s done right?” You press. Mirth playing at the end of your sentence. Jimin is terribly fun to tease.

He bristles, “If you’re expecting me not to make loving you guys perfect when I can make it that way then-”

“You’re such a control freak Minnie.” You say it with a smile, playing your fingers through some of the milky pink white, feeling the tackiness between your fingers.

“You don’t hate it?”

You shrug. “Jin’s that way too sometimes. So no, I guess I don’t hate it. Maybe it’s just because I like- really fucking hate making decisions- so.”

He grimaces, but Jimin’s eyes dart from your face down to your crossed legs. settling on something. “Do you care if those clothes get dirty?”

“A little- I like these shorts.”

“Then you should take them off.”

Your heart thuds as Jimin leans over you, tugging on the strap of your Tank Top with his teeth, lips pressed to the bare skin of your shoulder, dragging them down. He plays at being sexy but decides not to be, settling for leaning his cheek on your shoulder and watching you.

“I had this stupid idea, if you don’t want to do it just say so. But this is every shade of pink that we ever painted the house. Tae’s favorite color is pink- and the canvas- I thought it might be nice to have like- some art in her library room- that’s what I meant about making it planned.”

“Are you saying you want to make sex art for Tae or something?” Jimin blushes yet again. You should be keeping track of how many times he has and use them for leverage.

"Her favorite color is pink." He says, like that justifies it. “And you know gift giving is like, my second love language if that bullshit is to be believed and-”

“-Oh my god you actually do want to make sex art!” your playful shove at his shoulders almost sends you spilling into a splotch of blue. But Jimin is as immovable as ever.

He leans over, growling, nipping at your throat- an alpha tired of being teased. “Do you really think it’s so strange that I want to remember this later, or do you just think it’s odd that I want to treasure you specifically?”

You lean, you’re awfully close to a splotch of yellow that he poured out. You don’t have a good answer for him, or at least- one that will make him stop looking a little sad.

He shouldn't be so surprised that you kiss him to avoid answering. And yet his hands hit a splotch of blue to support himself when he's suddenly made dizzy. Your laugh tastes sweet pressed to his mouth, and the quirk of your lips says ‘That’s what you get,’

You guess the floors need to be replaced anyway, and he's a trained professional when it comes to clean up so it’s not like it will matter if you and Jimin get a little messy here. If Jimin really wants to learn (and you have no doubt that he does) you’ll gladly teach him.

Unhurried kisses become your hands pushing his flannel off his shoulders. Laughing when you look down and realize you've definitely left pink all along the collar. Jimin has the perfect lips for kissing, soft and strong in all the right ways, his hands go to your hips then up to your waist and back again, and his kiss goes sloppy- like he’s distracted by the feel of you.

He separates briefly, to very carefully and neatly, take off your shorts and place them near the edge of the room where there is less of a risk of them getting ruined. Leaving you in just your little panties, you wonder if Jimin knows this is one of a set- that Tae has the other ones and is wearing them today.

(You might have decided to match today, getting ready in your bedroom. She might have liked picking out your clothes a little bit too much, heart fluttering at the idea that you’d be wearing what mommy wanted you to wear all day).

But then he surges forward, pressing a kiss to your lips gently except for the way that you can feel him get jumpy and nervous, and when he pulls back, he’s uncharacteristically shy. “I-“ Jimin is blushing, his cheeks rosy pink, like the buckets of paint have jumped up and left splotches there. “I wanted to come find you once I was done setting up- to kiss you and then-“ he tucks his face down not meeting your eyes.

“You love Tae so well,” Jimin sounds sick with it. A confession maybe, that you love her better than he ever could. How is it that you’ve mastered it? Jimin’s world begins and ends with Tae, and Tae’s world is all you colored these days. And yet, you love her better- love her more.

He leans forward holding your hip, hand hovering on that space between love handle and stomach. It's the first time in the night that you push back, covering his hand with yours and sitting back. “I don’t know how that feels on men but on me, that’s kind of ticklish and kind of anxiety-inducing so-”

“Sorry,” Jimin takes his hands off of you, flexing them, “Wait how should I do it then-” you make him sit back, straddling him, narrowly avoiding putting your palm in a puddle of pink paint.

You slide your hands up his waist to cup his ribcage, and you feel the frantic thudding of his heart under your fingers. “Like this, if you had tits, I’d be just barely touching them, right? Boobs on their own are not like- the most sensitive things to be honest, but if you don’t touch them strong at first and kind of tease around them- it makes it feels better.”

You sit back again, letting Jimin touch his fill, letting his hands rough in all the right places. His fingers skimming up your ribcage, cupping underneath them with a blush on his cheeks, pulling back carefully to watch your expression and make sure he's doing it right. “Yeah- like that” you ignore the way that your breath goes heavy but Jimin’s smile goes a little feline. Like he knows how affected you are but won’t call you out on it.

“Did you know- until you I thought I was like- truly only into men?” you shrug, as Jimin slips off your tank top reverently. The dusky rose of your nipple is so similar in color to one of the pinks he just placed, or is it closer to the rose brown purple that comes when you mix the swatch from the upstairs with the pack's bedroom? Jimin couldn’t tear his eyes away from you if he tried. There’s a fleck of it on the shorter baby hairs near your face too.

You tap your fingers across Jimin's shoulders, narrower and comparatively more feminine than Tae's. You don't like thinking of any part of her as particularly masculine, but her shoulders have always been particularly dysphoria-inducing for her.

It's sad to think that maybe if she looked a little bit more like Jimin and had his proportions some parts of her transition might be easier on her. You can only tell her she's got the proportions of a victoria's Secret model so many times before it starts to feel a little disingenuous.

“It always seemed a little bit nebulous to me- women, men- gender- secondary and otherwise." You shrug, and maybe that's not what Jimin expects from you. Especially with Tae- that you'd have more keen answers for the differences. Not that there were none between the secondary and primary sexes.

His fingers slide down your hip, petting over your hip bone. his touches exploratory, uninhibited as you talk. Waiting for you to check him. He leaves his fingerprints- yellow blue and pink, over the cusp of your hip, and you can tell you're smearing some color beneath you as you shift to let him have his way with you.

Your breath gets heavy as Jimin's touches get bolder and bolder. Petting up and down your thigh as he kisses softly down your chest, hair tickling your skin. He gestures to your boobs, “No biting?”

“Yes but also no. It depends.”

Jimin sighs, pulling himself closer to you, face level with your chest, nudging your nipple with his nose. “That’s frustrating, I’m used to penis rules. No teeth. not ever.”

You bark a laugh, and Jimin touches your chest softly, your nipples pebbled against his palms, a little heavy as he feels their weight. “They’re so-“

“Squishy? Soft?”

“I was going to say weird, why do you have pillows attached to your chest?” you slap his shoulder in retaliation but Jimin’s smiling. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay” You mean it too- you don’t expect Jimin to adjust instantaneously. Maybe it’s too honest for you to confess it, but you understand how love and sexual attraction can be two different things. Jimin might love you because you’re you and might want to show that love in the way he knows how but that doesn’t mean your body won’t at first be very new and very odd to him. Sometimes it takes a second to properly enjoy the people you love.

Tae is the way you find yourselves back to each other. “Did you ever love a woman besides Tae? Before her?” A flash of red lips and a short black bob of hair runs through your mind, but you shove it down and away because no- desperation isn’t the same thing as love.

Jimin continues to touch your chest, his hands moving from cupping them to teasing at the nipple gently, probably the way he’s done to Jungkook before. You can’t say it doesn’t make your tummy start to tighten, the way he does it- unsure but eager.

“Yes and no, I think I had like- crushes maybe? In high school? But never like Tae.”

"Maybe that’s only because I started to love your soulmate after I knew. I never had to change the way I loved her like you did. You've loved her for a long ass time Jimin." Jimin flushes with that- the acknowledgment of it never feels any less lucky. Tae could have been loved by anyone- yet she chose Jimin. Tae has always felt like Jimin's own personal slice of heaven, the only piece he might ever touch.

Jimin looks at you and sees a second sliver, a second chance at salvation. “I've only ever loved her as Tae- not-” You don't say Tae's deadname. To utter it here among all this pink feels sinful when it's done in the name of loving her.

Jimin touches you so reverently, fingers skimming up and down your slit, finger pads pressing against your clit, gentle but explorative.

He watches you, watching your lips part in a soft gasp. The wet glimmer of slick builds, wetting the tips of his fingers. You're so soft and silky down there. knuckles pressed to your mouth to try and keep the sounds in, eyes fluttering shut. Very very pretty in the sunlit room where Jimin can see all of you, the soft fold of your stomach, the freckle on your hip, the one just under your chin.

If freckles hold all of the places that you were kissed in a past life, Jimin thinks you’re going to be covered in them for the next.

You're breathing heavy, but you still find the air to instruct him, “You're doing well- ah- soft touches like that make me feel- Tae likes to feel pretty. I don’t know if it’s like that with all women but-“ You grab his wrist but don’t tug it away, so Jimin keeps drawing endless circles on you, “B-but it’s like that with her. I called her cock pretty once and she came all over me on accident. Said it was just the hormones but-”

“She is really pretty” Jimin’s eyes go far away like he’s thinking about it. And you laugh to bite back a moan. You reach over, pawing at his pants and his belt, making him pull back to take them off not only to make your positions more equal but also because Jimin's all-black outfit is honestly being ruined by all the paint.

You lean back and watch him lift his shirt over his head. “I know! It’s honestly so annoying like- how is it that she was so pretty as a boy and as a girl- I’m honestly so jealous of her sometimes if we’re like-“ you break off. Going quiet wondering how much is normal to reveal. “Talking about gender and stuff.”

Jimin grips your knee, “If I keep going, are you going to tell me when I do something right and when I do something wrong?”

“Of course, but take off your pants first.”

He huffs, but it's all put upon "What a demanding little pup I've got. As you wish."

You’d forgotten that Jimin a quite frankly unfairly pretty cock. Pink at the tip and well-manicured. All of your packmates keep their downstairs area mostly trimmed- the furriest of the bunch being your mate and Namjoon. Somehow you thought Jimin might want to keep it wilder and yet he's smooth. Perfectly manicured.

“Her, but not you,” Jimin says, needing clarification but knowing the answer. your foot hits something wet smearing. The mess gets messier when he jerks you up into his lap, sitting you across it with an impressive show of strength. His cock is wet and hard and pink where it’s pressed against your thigh.

To be mean you arch your hips forward, dragging your clothed cunt across it, Jimin's lips part, and his scent goes thick, like melting vanilla ice cream or baking sugar cones.

The hair on his happy trail tickles your tummy, his hands supporting you as he sets you back against the drop cloth, making sure you don’t bang your head. Jimin holds himself over you, crouching low. “You don’t like to be called pretty- you like to be called cute,” he nips at your collarbones and makes your pulse quicken.

You squirm, but he settles you with a hand on your stomach. “You will get red paint in your hair if you’re not careful.”

He's telling the truth, you know you have to be half-covered with paint by now. You're doing a good job of making the canvas all pretty. He catches your hand, covered with different shades of pink and white spread across your fingertips, and kisses them anyways, a tiny splotch near the edge of his lips.

You’re worried. Of course you're worried about the effect your slick will have on all of them, especially Jimin- who's already at the mercy of his instincts on a good day. And yet, you let him pull himself down, knees sliding through pink and yellow and blue. Tossing your panties into some forgotten less paint splatter corner because they’re actually really fucking cute.

It’s like before Namjoon’s rut, the day you sub-dropped. When Jimin looks up at you to check that this is okay you have the same look on your face; half afraid and half nervous. Like you don’t want to say anything.

Loving Jimin is very good for you because he doesn’t let you stew in those emotions.

“You don’t have to be nervous. I want to do this, I’m not doing this just because I think you’re more likely to suck my dick later, or because I think you deserve to have your pussy eaten- that's last part is like 1/3 of it.”

"Are we describing love with fractions now?" you tease, trying to make it lighter. but your heart hurts, Jimin is so very good at making you feel comfortable. “I always have a hard time believing that.” You confess because today seems to be about honesty. Jimin kisses his way up your inner thigh. Leaving splotches of pink in his wake. “You guys are all so giving, it makes me feel selfish.”

Jimin presses a first slow kiss where you're sensitive. Slowly, Waiting, hurting for you to push him off. You don’t.

“It’s not like that,” he struggles with his words for a second but you’ll wait as long as he needs. “You know how sometimes when you eat food and it makes you full but it tastes so good you only want more?”

“Oh, great now you're comparing me to food" Jimin cuts off your words by pushing your knee to your chest. Unwrapping your pussy for him, the most sensitive part of you wide and open.

“Shut up you know what I mean.” He pales, “I didn’t mean like- shut up literally-“

“Minnie I’m just teasing. I’m not actually upset.” he huffs, but lets you laugh, back against the canvas. "Honestly, I’m just surprised. I didn’t think because of your whole 'I’m a gay alpha thing' that you'd ever want to fuck me. Or if you did we'd at least be with Tae.”

Contrary to what might be believed, the idea of Jimin only wanting you with Tae doesn't hurt you. The truth is that you have so many people now to please; you were sort of okay with Jimin and Tae being a package deal in the bedroom. If only because it makes things on your end slightly easier.

Jimin presses a kiss to your knee, “I want to do more than fuck you- I want to make you cum so many times you cry.”

Your stomach swoops, in a way that might just be you clenching a little at the idea of it. “I don’t think anyone’s ever fucked me till I cried, at least not in the good way.”

Jimin’s growl is a dangerous thing as he pulls himself up to look at you. There’s paint drying on your inner thigh and a whole puddle of it by your hip. And you know you must be a sight. Jimin’s eyes go cold, a little unforgiving at the thought of it and his scent darkens, almost imperceptibly.

You wonder how many people have seen him look exactly like that just before they’ve died under the same touch that makes your heart race. Jimin skims his fingers along your hand, gripping it after a moment, hard, tangled fingers stained with pink and red. Your love for Tae and your other, darker secrets.

“Remind me to piss on your ex’s grave next time we go into the city.”

Your laugh is a bright thing, and you miss Jimin’s smile when he pulls himself back down to your cunt. "In case no one's ever told you, I'm proud of you for killing him. I know it couldn't have been easy.”

You swallow, you don't want to think about that right now, probably the least sexy thing you've ever done. You don't want to think about any of that right now. “You really want to like- Make me cry?”

“Yes,” he says, and even you have to admit that you don’t find any ulterior motive or any sort of underlying motivation in his eyes. Other than wanting, something dark and roiling- an alpha with something to prove. A shaft of daylight cuts across his face, his body.

Jimin’s so pretty. You wonder if he’s this pretty in every universe.

“You’re welcome to try I guess,” Jimin’s fingers brush over the front of your pussy. Keeping his eyes locked with yours as he softly- ever so softly- pets over your pussy. Your breath hitches.

With one hand braced against you Jimin uses his other hand to brush back the top of your cunt, pinning your clit to your pubic bone. Your lips parting around his thumb, his other finger that just barely, teases the top of your hole. You grab his wrist, cursing low.

Every ounce of your self-control goes to keeping yourself from letting out so many embarrassing noises as Jimin draws light circles over your clit. Touching you firmer than before. “You get so wet so fast- it’s precious.” You squeak, jerking when he presses a little harder. Hand flinging out to grab onto something.

It sends a bit of pink paint splattering, and Jimin’s laugh bounces off the high ceiling. A little gets on the wall. You hope Yoongi won't get too angry at you. You and Jimin are going to make the canvases lovely, probably all blotchy and blended together, by the time you're finished here.

It’s hard for you to concentrate, Jimin’s fingers work so diligently, pushing against your hole even as his thumb digs into your clit, you grab his wrist, “gentle” you say, and he slows his pace, “the estrogen makes Tae-“ Jimin slowly drags his thumb down your clit then back up- the hard nub twitches under his touch. “Sensitive. You have to be gentle. Tae likes it gentle, and so do I sometimes.” He remembers the guise of this, you teaching him.

“Sometimes, but not all the time.” You nod, and Jimin continues his slow, torturous circles. “You can be a little bit rough. If it's too much I’ll tell you.” He nods obediently. “Safeword rules still apply?” you ask, because although this isn’t a scene, you can’t help but feel like you might need them.

You don’t know when you started to need them like a safety net. When it started to feel important to have them, But Jimin nods, agreeing. “Of course. They always do with me. I’ll hold you to them.”

The gentle small slap he lands over your cunt has you jumping, cursing, the skin hotter under his touch. "Jin told me you liked that."

"I do- fuck" Jimin alternates, loving the way your whole body jerks when the sensitive part of you is tapped. They're not even rough slaps but you bet the sound of slapping is sounding through the whole house. juxtaposed with the slow pressure that he rubs against your clit, your heartbeat is just under your skin. The slaps make your pussy more sensitive and especially hot when he begins to press kisses there too.

He draws his fingers into a pinch and then drags them up and down your clit, making your legs kick weakly. He does it again just to see you shake. figuring out the best way to toy with you, the quickest way to rile you up.

With cocks- Jimin is used to it being fast and wet and hard, but the slower he goes with you the more it seems to rile you up and push you to the edge. You shouldn’t be so surprised that someone so kissed by Cupid is so good at lovemaking too. (Tae has a thing for people touched by love, you should know by now to trust her judgement.)

His fingers press into your hole gently, crooking up with gentle pressure at the same time he lightly circles his fingers over your clit, fingers glossy with your slick, the glide of them wet and easy. “Do you belive I want you yet? or do i need to spank you cute pussy a few more times for the message to get across?”

You cum on Jimin’s fingers like that, clenching down on them as they press up. With him just sitting there, just watching, eyes transfixed on you. he taps over your clit once, twice, and then a third time before you’re arching away with a jagged exhale. You pawing at his hand to get him to stop or at least slow down.

but he’s true to his word, he doesn’t let you get far. His fingers grip your thighs the chub there dimpling like dough. “I was serious,” he says, eyes bright, “about making you cum so many times you cry.”

You wheeze, and he laughs again. You’ve never heard a laugh that sounded so hot, it’s kind of funny how it goes that way; the more you love someone the hotter the little things about them get.

“Lie back-“ he says, “just let me-” You do- because you’re honestly too boneless to protest right now. He pulls you by the hips through the mess of paint, getting it all on his elbows but he doesn’t care when confronted with you, stretched out like a meal before them. Clit pink from cumming, pussy lips hot under his touch from the spanking, wet hole twitching in invitation. Even though he’s seen you take Namjoon’s cock, it still looks so cute and tiny.

You've come back to yourself enough to tease him. Threading your fingers through his hair as he brazenly watches you. Dismissing the heat in your face as just a conciquence of your orgasam. “If you get paint in my pussy, you better help me clean it later.”

“I’d clean you with my fucking mouth.” He growls against the skin of your inner thigh.

Your retort gets stolen from your throat when he presses his mouth to you.

If you thought Jimin was good at kissing, it’s nothing compared to how he kisses your pussy. Making out with it, his tongue darts out, shy at first. Sending hot licks of pleasure up your stomach. his palm presses flat, against your hip spreading pink and red there. His hand smooths down your knee, and Jimin-

The thing about jimin is that even though he loves giving oral he's never explicitly liked the taste of cock. It was more the fact that it was Tae’s dick that made it good, or Namjoon’s or anyone else’s, that made him love the act of oral so much. Enough to beg for it during rut, to spend countless hours on his knees. To fall asleep during a rut with a soft length in his mouth, mostly Yoongi's, Jungkook's, or Jin's because they're on the smaller side. Happy to have them make his jaw sore.

There is no more complete show of devotion than an alpha getting on their knees for their pack. by comparison, kissing your pussy feels selfish.

At the taste of your, the grating buzz that’s always in his brain- the mental background noise of overstimulation. Like His awareness of the feeling of his knees sliding against the rough cotton drop cloth, the tacky feeling of the paint on his back drying, the tickle of his too-long hair brushing his ears. The vague soreness and hunger in his stomach from eating something that wasn't right earlier. All of that which usually grates on him, that which usually takes from him- all of it goes quiet when your slick hits his tongue.

Jimin's scent thickens, goes so thick it smells just as potent as it does when he's in rut, vanilla cloud covering you, making you leak more.

The second that your slick hits his tongue, the world fades into bliss. The bliss of clean black sheets, the bliss of fuzzy socks on a cold day, of Hobi's sweatshirt that's worn just right at the cuffs or Jin's nest after everyone's slept in it exactly 3 nights after changing the sheets, just enough for it to smell like them and not enough for it to feel dirty.

Your slick tastes like the buzz that fills his head when he touches Tae's hair, like comfort incarnate, when he touches her skin. He leaves his tongue in soft licks, licks that are more about tasting more than giving you pleasure. You don't really notice the difference.

You try to squirm away, clit still sensitive from cumming earlier, but leashes a snarl. Fisting your love handles. His nose brushes your pubic mound, eyes rolling back. Purely animal when he holds you and pin’s you. Fingers digging in hard enough to leave bruises later.

Maybe they shouldn't have underestimated what 'addictive slick' really did meant. Because this jimin- is another monster entirely.

His senses, usually friable and bright, like sour candy- go sweet and soft and blissfully quiet. consumed with the quiet of you you you, your slick, hot and sweet on the back of his throat, your warmth, your skin your everything.

jimin wants to keep you right her, right under his tongue, forever.

he pushes your knees up roughly keeping you open and prone for him. You yelp, his teeth teasing at sensitive bits, “Minnie- fuck-”

The growl he lets out is possessive, loud, and echoic in the quiet house, vibrating pressed against your clit. It doesn't end, echoing until his voice goes hard and small.

Your clit is so hard and small. The perfect little nub for Jimin’s lips to toy with. they circle and mouth at it mindlessly. Sucking with gentle pressure just to feel it squish against his tongue. It twitches a little again.

Dicks and clits, they’re not all that different. Only this one- this one doesn’t make Jimin’s jaw ache, doesn’t cut off his breathing. This one's so small it lets him let out soft huffs pressed to slick skin, his hands go hard around your fluffy thighs, spreading pink. When he sucks again your hand goes from a puddle of white paint to his hair, painting it.

“Fuck- Jimin-”

All too soon you’re shaking, Jimin’s soothing growls making your pleasure spike wildly, especially when he looks up from between your thighs, eyes wild and hair messy,

You cum against his mouth. But this time when you try to squirm away Jimin pulls you back by your hips. You try to twist away, but Jimin doesn't let you go, yanking you back by your knees to bend over his face, keeping your cunt right where he wants it. His voice sounds darker, rougher- than you've ever heard it, "squirmy little omega, let alpha taste you. don’t you want to be good for me?"

Maybe you should have been more careful, but even at the rough treatment you drip onto the canvas, and you wonder if your slick will stain it too. You can do little more than rest your face against a piece of dry canvas and try not to cum again so soon. You don’t have the brain cells to respond, not when Jimin licks you like that.

Jimin continues to snarl, throat raw, “Poor little thing, like alphas tongue so much that it made you a little fucked out huh? A little dumb omega? You don’t have to worry pup, alphas got you. Alpha doesn't mind if you're a little messy, I'll take care of you.”

It takes you another orgasam before you're squirting. Your pussy's hot beneath his tongue, ravished and licked so much you can hardly keep your knees under you. Half supported by Jimin's hands as he keeps you on his mouth even as you try and squirm away and save yourself from the embarrassment. The hot gush of slick misses his mouth, trickling down his throat and wetting his collarbones. You'd be embarrassed if you weren't trying so hard not to pass out.

Jimin is going to turn making you squirt into a fucking art form.

But surprisingly, you’re just hiccupping not crying yet. So he keeps going. One orgasm bleeds into another, as one hour becomes two. Sometimes when you squirt, it's just a trickle, other times, it's wet and messy and almost /loud/ for the way that Jimin snarls. He tries every angle, palm pressed to your stomach, fingers inside of you pressing up just under his tongue, lapping at your clit like a lollipop, all of it.

even pressing in deeper, rubbing gently at the spot where namjoon bread you barely last week, a spot so deep that only your alphas have touched, that jimin strokes over just to hear you squeek. his mouth runs an endless trail of filth, sometimes it’s “you’ve got such a cute little breeding hole, so sweet i have half a mind to keep you plugged and full all the time, such a cute hole deserves to be kissed and fucked” other times it’s "give it to me, fuck- please- i need it-"

Your legs are jelly, trembling uncontrollably and Jimin's fingers are Pruny by the time it truly starts to get too much. He’s slick drunk and crazy on the drive to wrench one more orgasam from you. His cock lying hard and unattended against his thigh, dripping thick white cum. The pleasure fading from good to painful, one orgasm wrenched from your body after another, unyielding.

our clit is so sensitive that even his pressing the flat of his tongue and lapping at your clit makes you see stars, makes you scrabble against the paint-colored floor and try to get away.

"Can't take anymore," you whimper, "please alpha- s'too much."

Jimin pulls back, giving you a second to catch your breath, before he presses a hand to your lower back and forces you back down. "That's not a safeword pup. If you really want me to stop. Say it."

You hiccup, but you can't you can't safeword because you know deep down- you really do want him to make you cry. You really do what to see what lies over the next cup, the next minute he spends taking you apart.

It's the pussy spanking that finally takes you over that edge.

He's unrelentingly diligent with taking you apart, alternating between rubbing tight circles and tapping your clit as he suckles at your hole, wrenching another few drops of slick from you with every tap, until he pauses, and drags his teeth over you. You're already jerking away from sensitivity when he pulls back and lands a hard spank over your sensitive clit.

You think you actually might pass out for a second.

When you come too, there's not only a puddle underneath your hips- but also wetness on your lashes, your mouth, hiccuping sobs as the pleasures finally stopped, and Jimin, wet cheeks and all, licks your tears from your face too. “good omega, alpha loves you so much, such a good little pet for me.”

Jimin licks your slick from his lips, wet and messy from you, glossy almost, he bends down, prostrate, kissing the pink splotch on your tummy, “I swear to fucking god-”Jimin does swear to God, in the confines of his own head, that unless Tae gets that surgery in particular, your pussy will be the only one he ever tastes.

He pulls himself up to your level, answering the weak twitch of your arms with his own around your middle. You’re hiccupping too much to speak and shivering too hard to stay still. Your alpha is hot beneath your touch, the mess of your body and his body, not just paint but slick and sweat and tears, all pressed together like a balm to everything. The tightness in your chest released, you sob and it’s a good thing.

Something wretched and broken slips out, Jimin presses a kiss over your heart, covering you with his body, with no foe as witness, when there is nothing to protect you from.

The kiss Jimin presses to your mouth is just as soft as the ones he pressed to your pussy. You grimace at the taste of your slick, but Jimin is having none of it, cupping the back of your neck and soothing your cries with a few more kisses.

“Can you give me one more sweetheart?” His cock is pressing up against your hip, hot, dripping, and insistent. You sniffle but nod. You just want him close.

He pulls your hips through the mess of your slick, turning smudge of red paint all pastel-ly and more watercolor than acrylic as it bleeds.

He feeds his cock into your hungry entrance, still clenching hard around nothing. It feels like you’re still cumming. You don't know if Jimin kept track or if you could put a number to your orgasms if you tried.

You sniffle. And he tugs you along the warm line of his body. Nosing along your cheek. Keeping your bodies pressed close as he rocks his hip deep. Jimin’s stamina must be endless, each roll of his hips is punishing and firm, grinding the head of his cock in deep. He grinds more than thrusts, nudging the sensitive spots he explored with his fingers.

Jimin pulls your hands away from your face, looking down, fixing you with a look as he does it again, encouraging another weak pulse and hot clench.

Jimin gets more and more mouthy the closer he gets, he almost talks like Namjoon did in rut when he gets slick drunk. “Gonna fuck you so deep you feel it for days, gonna fuck you so deep there's no way it doesn't take, fuck- you’re mine- you’re fucking mine.” you let out a broken mewl and Jimin tucks his face into your shoulder.

Jimin doesn't need any schooling, he just needs to love Tae just like this, and they'll be fine.

Jimin grinds his hips in at just the right angle and it forces a rough brutal noise from your throat. A sob that he kisses away. He holds your hips using them for leverage as he breeds you. Hair hanging over his eyes and tickling your brow as he works you closer and closer. The canvas slides against the plastic, but even if you have rug burn later- it will have been fucking worth it.

“Fuck- I’d do anything for you.” You know it’s true. Despite what happened before. You know now all of that has changed now.

Your fingers leave red splotches against his stomach, and Jimin trembles. His body over sensitive from all the pleasure, from keeping his orgasam off for so long

“Would you kill for me?” You ask quietly. Jimin doesn’t stop his pace, doesn’t stop his movements.

You think about Yoongi and that night more than you’re willing to admit; You think about his face, bruised and screwed into a snarl, holding the gun to Geumjae but unable to pull the trigger. You know he couldn't for more than one reason; both because killing him could have killed you and because it was his brother.

But at the same time, You don’t know if one day the memory will ever make you feel anything but emptiness. A bleak almost disappointment. Sure- he’d been willing to bind his soul to yours to keep you alive. He’d devoted himself to you wholly and completely since but-

But maybe that was partially to ease his guilt. Guilt and love. Love and guilt. Are they really so different? Yoongi loves you. You know this as surely as you know that the sun will rise tomorrow. But even he hadn’t been able to pull the trigger. You had to do it instead.

"I'm proud of you for killing him, I know it must not have been easy"

Watching Jimin fuck you within an inch of your life, you decide you don’t know if that makes Yoongi a better man than Jimin, or a worse one.

Jimin leans his body low over yours, grinds his cock in deep, and presses his lips to your ear. “Kill for you? I’d do worse.” Jimin drives his cock deeper. Chasing his own release now, not just yours.

“For you and Tae, I’d do fucking anything.”

You squirt around his knot, just a trickle of it as it starts to inflate. He doesn’t stop fucking it back and forth, simple millimeters that tug more squirt from you as it fills you up and tugs at your sensitive entrance. You wet the red on his stomach with how hard you clench down making it dribble.

There’s even a splotch of red on his shoulder, milky white and crimson. Both of you are absolutely covered in paint.

Jimin doesn’t think he’s ever going to get tired of it as he takes a bit of your slick and presses it to his tongue. My sweet pup. our sweet pup the voice devoted to Tae reminds him in his head. Of course, she deserves the most delectable omega in existence, of course, this sweetness is worth protecting.

Of course, I’d kill for you.

It's your taste that drives him over the edge that makes his knot twitch and cum start to fill you up, locked deep inside of you. Your abdomen tightens against his as he cums. You’re so warm and wet, so comfortable as he rocks into you. knot too inflated to yank it out.

The instinct to breed and claim there as he drags his teeth up the Column of your throat and makes you keen. Your hand buried in his hair, the other resting between his shoulder blades, nails resting against his skin, tired of scratching although you’ve already left your marks on his skin. Up and down his back

Afterward, it’s comparatively quiet.

He flips you over so that you can rest against his chest. He’s warm and hot underneath you. Warm enough that you don’t feel the cold or lack of covering. Knotted together as close as you can be Jimin lets your sniffles quiet. His fingers paint mindless circles over your lower back as your breathing slows. Pressing kisses against the top of your head, your cheek against his chest, listening to the rapid thud of his heartbeat slow.

Even though you’re quiet, your mind races. Slowly treading toward dangerous territory. Tae’s voice, the memory of Tae’s words- “Minnie. I don’t think I want you to touch me right now, please just- please don’t”

It’s you who dares to punctuate the quiet. “Did you want to do this because of what happened during Namjoon’s rut?”

“Maybe.”

You lift your head, “Have you and Tae talked about it yet?” Jimin tips his throat up towards the ceiling, the cracked plaster that Yoongi hasn’t yet fixed. Avoiding your gaze. He just ate you out, but he can't look at you when you ask about this.

Jimin’s hand continues its endless circles across your sternum, winding down and down.

“To be honest, I don’t know if we’ll ever talk about it.”

~-~

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taleasnewastime · 11 months

Text

All that remains | Part 1

[ PART THREE TO GROWING PAINS ]

Summary: You betrayed them all, acted on your own selfishness; will Jimin ever forgive you?

Pairing: Jimin x reader

Genre: Unrequited love; brothers’ best friend; slow burn; mafia au; angst

Word count: 7.4k

Warnings: Angsty feelings, unrequited feelings, mentions of death, blood, depression, mentions of a slight alcohol problem, drinking alcohol, feelings of being alone and isolated

Authors note: Sorry this has taken so long, and thank you for sticking around and waiting for this. Not as long as others in the series but there is more to come! Possibly a slow start but I promise that there is lots more to come and things will start heating up in no time. Part 2 won't take as long!!

Masterlist | Next

THREE MONTHS AND TWELVE DAYS LATER

The cold hits you as you exit the café. Turning, you lock the door, checking you’ve remembered to turn all the lights off. You managed to get this job not long after everything fell apart, climbing up to assistant manager quickly. It’s not your dream job, not the best pay and you could definitely get something better, but the job isn’t stressful, you don’t mind the people, it pays the bills and it’s all you need right now. You don’t want to lose this job because you forgot to turn the lights off.

The evening is dark. Beams of light coming from the streetlights. The weather’s turning cold, but you’re thankful it’s not raining like it does seemingly every day recently. It’s reflecting your mood. Dark, moody, just generally down. There are few days at the moment when you feel happy.

It’s been months since the police raid, tipped off by you with enough solid evidence to bring the organisation down. Months since your brother got locked away. Months since your whole life changed. Months since you betrayed everyone who raised you.

It’s just you and Jungkook now. The two of you supporting yourselves. In the same city just in a different part to the house you were raised in. The two of you barely scrapping by.

Oh, and Jimin.

Not working, hardly talking and barely showing his face. You and Jungkook working to support three, like some dysfunctional family. You’re struggling, only just keeping your heads above water. The flat you live in is old and cold, just enough space to squeeze the three of you in. On the sixth floor of a building with no elevator. Your neighbour’s people who the government have forgotten. People living on the margins, with little education and hardly any income, people just trying to survive like you, many of them people you’d avoid at all cost, as dangerous as people you’d meet in the gang only now you hold no status.

You take a breath when you get to the bottom of the steps to your building, mentally preparing for the six flights of steps to come and the lonely flat after that. The damp, the cold, the loneliness, hardly things to look forward to. You hate it, but it’s all you can afford and for the roof it provides you’re happy enough.

“Hello?” You call out into the quiet flat getting no reply.

Unsurprising, though you wonder if you truly are home alone. Jungkook will be out at work, either the personal trainer job or working security at a new club in town. Jimin will probably be holed up in his room doing you don’t know what.

You sigh as you head to the kitchen, routing through the freezer for something to heat up. There are only a few things to eat, nothing exciting but you’re too tired to cook anything.

Life isn’t any better, it’s not any easier, it’s not sunshine and rainbows. Your plan worked. Now you just need to try and get on with life. You knew this would be the outcome, you didn’t expect a life of luxury, you just didn’t quite expect this. The quietness. The monotonous days. The barely scraping by. The loneliness.

It’s been months since everything went down. Months since you ratted to the police, used your leverage in the gang to bring them down. You backstabbed them all, just like they did to you all those years ago. And while your plan paid off, you got what you wanted, you don’t feel complete satisfaction.

It was never something you planned. Or at least you never sat down and plotted it all out. The idea itself manifested over the years, grew from a simple conversation. It was never something you thought you’d do, more a fantasy than reality.

It was Jungkook’s idea originally. A seed he planted in your mind that grew the more distance you had, the longer you had to think it over.

You felt so alone, for so long and then Jungkook appeared. Seeped into your life so thoroughly that you no longer felt as lonely. You’d never trusted anyone enough to tell them your story, but for some reason Jungkook was different. Maybe it was because he was from a similar background, maybe it was because he made you feel less alone or maybe it was just as simple as him listening to you. Whatever it was, piece by piece, it all started to come out of you. Slowly at first, and then one night when you’d had a little bit too much to drink, all at once.

It was Jungkook that planted the seed, a mere comment about how he heard a company going down because of a whistle-blower. The CEO was bullying its staff, guilt tripping them into staying later than they should and never being happy with the outcome of work. Not comparable to your gang or situation at all. But it was that comment that blossomed everything.

For months that turned into years you mulled over the thought. Whistle-blower. Someone on the inside who knows everything that’s going on and reports it. Reports wrongdoings. Can take down the company with mere words.

Your bitterness rotted over time to hatred which quickly turned to vengeance. The fact you had little contact with anyone only made it worse. Sure, it was your father who instigated it, but you’d have thought there would be one person on your side. And even though your brother contacted you, it was so infrequent with so little information that it felt like he needn’t have bothered. It felt like he was doing it as another job, contacting you because he had to not because he wanted to. You resented him; for having it all, for not helping you, for letting you leave, for not standing up to your father.

Whistle-blower. A much nicer word than grass, snitch or rat. Just a word, but a word that made you think maybe you could do it.

You knew so much. And yet part of you knew you’d never do it.

And then you got the call, your father was dead.

Even as you flew back home, the thought still in your mind, you didn’t think you’d go through with it. The funeral was cold, everyone avoiding you as if you were infected. Your meeting with Yoongi didn’t make you feel any better. He wanted proof, wanted you to show he could trust you as if everything you had done up until that point wasn’t enough. Your whole life was to appease them, everything you did was to make them happy. And it was then that you realised that nothing you could do would be good enough. Even if you gave Yoongi proof you doubted he would ever truly welcome you into the family.

Hearing Jimin scream about wanting you out only sealed the deal. If they didn’t want you, you’d show them where they could stick it, show them how strong you could be.

You knew they would be arrogant enough to think you’d want back in, that you’d do anything if it meant you’d get your place alongside them. All you needed to do was play along. Because who wouldn’t want to be part of what they had? No matter how they treated you, no matter how you grew, they’d always think your feelings would remain the same.

But you did grow, you did change. And you realised Jimin was right. The gang wasn’t what you dreamed it was. It wasn’t your family, it wasn’t the only option you had. It didn’t want you. And now you didn’t want it.

Jungkook did most of the work because you weren’t stupid enough to be meeting the police when you were supposed to be looking into your father’s death. He did other things when he drifted off in the mornings on his own, but a lot of the time he was feeding information and planning how best to raid the gang. It was you who suggested that if you found out who the killer was you could line it all up, get the confrontation to be in a place the police could surround.

You knew it was a risk, had been told by everyone who knew what you were doing that it was a risk. They wouldn’t be able to get them all and even if they did, they wouldn’t charge them all. People would know it was you or would be able to connect the dots given long enough. It was a risk to your life and yet you still decided to do it.

After it all went down, the police gave you protection for a bit. Helped get you onto your feet, some money so you could afford a small but relatively safe flat and a rotation of plain clothed officers outside. But when weeks went by with no threats they were quick to decide it was a waste of their money and resources and you were safe. Sure, you helped them, you were key in them getting the evidence to bring the gang down. But the deal was always two sided, they always knew that there was something in it for you, even if that was some sick satisfaction in bringing down your own family.

Is it worse that you did all of this because of revenge, or would it have been worse if you’d been paid off by the police to do it?

And now it’s all done.

But was it worth it? All you have now is a crappy flat you share with Jungkook who you hardly see and Jimin who actively avoids you. A job that barely gets you by. A brother in jail because you put him there. A guilt that will stay with you forever.

No family, barely any friends. You’ve never felt so lonely.

Eyes still half closed from sleep; you look up to wish Jungkook a good morning. Only when you look up it’s not Jungkook you see.

The clattering and movement you heard was Jimin. The guy that lives with you but that you’ve only seen in passing or heard through walls in the past month. Now stood in front of you. Just like you he’s stood staring back at you, only rather than the shock and spark of joy you feel in seeing him, he only looks mildly annoyed back at you.

“Hi,” you say after a long pause, voice breathy even as you try to act normal.

He doesn’t reply, just stares at you for a second more before twisting to look back at the coffee he was making.

Ok, you think, taking a breath before you walk further into the room. The joy still remains, just a little dampened.

“Did you want food with that?” You ask. “I brought some pastries home yesterday from the café. They’re in the bread bin.”

You’re not even sure Jimin’s aware you work in a café, that that’s the wage that’s keeping you all a float, or at least is with the help of Jungkook. And now, Jimin doesn’t say anything or do anything to suggest he cares. His back muscles tense below his top, his shoulders hunched and his face looking resolutely down at the coffee machine.

Deciding he’s not going to give you anything else you move to the bread bin of your own accord. You know he hates you, know he’s probably wishing he weren’t here right now, but he is and you’re not going to let the opportunity pass.

“Well, I’m going to have one,” you mutter, still putting fake happiness into your tone as if to try and prove that this situation isn’t bothering you.

Your eyes keep flicking to Jimin when he’s no longer in your direct line of site. You can still hear him making the coffee and yet you’re worried he’ll disappear into thin air. You can’t blame him for the way he’s acting, part of you is annoyed at him, still hates him and yet you’re worried about him. It’s not good for him to be cooped up for so long, it’s not normal nor healthy. And yet you can’t get him to even look at you.

You wish Jungkook were here. He’d know what to do or say. And maybe Jimin would talk to him.

Pulling two plates out, you place a pastry on each. Awkwardly you turn and place one of them between you and Jimin. It’s not close to him, he’ll have to reach out and get it if he wants it. Worse than that, you imagine, is that he’ll have to turn back in your direction.

Sighing, the happiness getting harder to keep hold of, you decide that it’s not worth sticking around for. He doesn’t want you here. If you can give him anything, then at least you can do that.

“I’ll just,” you mutter, pausing only for a second before grabbing your plate and shuffling to the door. Words you want to say get lodged in your throat and you have to force yourself not to look back at him.

Maybe he is better off without you.

“The usual?”

A smile threatens to lift on the man’s lips. “Do I come here that often?”

“I think the question should be, am I that predictable?”

The man chuckles, his eyes dancing away from you before coming back when he’s controlled the noise. “Well, I already know the answer to that.”

“Black coffee and a croissant then?”

He hums, his eyes going to the counter which holds all the cakes as you start to type in his order.

“Which is your favourite?”

You pause and look at him, he waits with that same smile on his lips. You find your own eyes going to the cakes. No one’s asked that before, no one’s particularly interested in you. Sure, customers ask you questions and take an interest but there’s something about this guy. It’s not weird, just … different.

“Uh,” you pause, trying to keep the smile on your lips. “I like the lemon drizzle.”

He smiles at you, again not weird but something about it makes you uneasy. Especially when he just smiles and doesn’t say anything. You put it down to be an odd customer, maybe he’s lonely. Or maybe it’s you. So unused to someone being interested in you that you’re putting the blame on him rather than on yourself.

He moves to the end of the counter and watches as you prepare his coffee and then pick out a croissant.

“Here you go,” you plaster a smile on your lips as you hand over his coffee and pastry.

“Thanks, Y/N,” he says, eyes darting to your name badge and back.

You heart stutters as you watch him leave. Just a harmless man but you always read into things since leaving. Everyone you meet knows who you are, everyone who looks at you the wrong way wants you dead. Despite leaving the gang in your past, you can’t help but still live that way. Always defensive, always thinking the worst in people. You wonder if you’ll ever be able to shake it off.

“I have an idea,” Jungkook says it casually, but you can hear the note of edge in his voice. He’s expecting you to ask what the idea is but when you don’t enquire he’s forced to carry on. “So, uh, Colin at work mentioned that Ed might be leaving because his ex-contacted him, the one that moved to Scotland, and they were asking if –” Jungkook cuts himself off when he sees your face, realising he’s giving too much detail and not getting to the point. “Anyway, Ed’s leaving so I mentioned to my manager that I might know someone who’d be good for the job.”

You still don’t speak, you think you know what he’s saying from this, but you want to hear him spell it out. For a few seconds there’s a stalemate of silence, Jungkook not wanting to spell it out, you not wanting to assume.

“He needs to get out of the house, he needs to do something,” he’s finally turned to look at you, giving you his full attention.

“You don’t need to plead with me,” you say earning an eye roll. “He’s not going to take it.”

There’s a pause and when Jungkook talks his tone is hesitant, “but, you’ll still ask?”

You can read the meaning behind the words, you caused this, you need to sort it out. There’s no way to argue with that. You did create this mess and you dragged Jungkook into it. He’s at least done something to try and help out. It sounds like you have to do the rest.

“We can’t keep living like this. Only the two of us supporting all three of us. Only just scraping by. He needs to pull his –”

“I get it,” you cut him off. Gritting your teeth, you force your lips into a smile as you narrow your eyes at him. “I’ll ask.”

Jungkook waits, sizes you up as if he can read whether you’re going to do it or not. You’re not sure when your relationship became like this, stilted, forced. Maybe in the gaps between seeing each other. Or maybe when you dragged him over here just to blow everything up. Or maybe it was when he felt the expectation not to leave you, to stay with you and help you through this mess, ruining his own life as well as your own.

You miss him. But just like everything else in your life right now, you don’t know what to do to get him back. You can barely keep your own head above water, how are you supposed to think of anything else?

Taking a small breath, loosening your face so you’re not so tense, you say in a voice that’s more certain, “I’ll ask him.”

Jungkook’s features soften the same way yours do. He nods before walking towards you.

“He’ll come around,” he says, hand going to your shoulder and squeezing gently. “I’ll see you later.”

You swallow, nod even though he’s not looking at you and then mutter, “have a nice day.”

You don’t want to do this. Really don’t want to do this.

It’s just a door. All you have to do is reach a hand out, form a fist and knock. Simple. But it’s who might come to the door that terrifies you, what they might do when they answer the door, or more what they won’t do.

Taking a breath, you knock on the door.

You hear the footsteps, your heart pounding to the same beat they walk. It doesn’t take long for the door to open, Jimin stood staring expectantly at you. Voice caught in your throat it’s him that breaks the silence.

“Want a squash?”

He doesn’t wait for an answer, just brushes past you leaving you standing outside his door. Heart still pounding, blood swirling in your ears you take a second before following. Jimin’s already pouring an inch of squash into a pint glass when you get to the kitchen, no sight of a glass for you.

Stood like a spare part you watch Jimin’s back as he fills his glass with water and then takes a long gulp. Feeling awkward and conscious that you left this conversation until the last possible moment before you need to go to work, you head to the fridge. Almost unseeing you pick out the first thing your fingers land on.

Hip leaning on the counter, Jimin’s dark eyes follow you as you walk around the room, first for a plate, then for a chair at the small breakfast bar that couples as the only place to eat in the flat.

“You wanted to tell me something?” He asks the second you take your first bite of food.

Chewing slowly, you mull over the words while also not wanting to give him too much time to walk out and not speak to you again. It’s the first time it’s occurred to you that maybe Jimin already knows what this is about. It’s a small flat, the walls not exactly thick and you and Jungkook weren’t being careful to stop him overhearing the other day. The fact he might already know what you’re about to suggest only makes you more nervous.

“Jungkook mentioned there’s a job going at his place,” you speak to your food rather than Jimin but when he doesn’t reply you flick your eyes to look up at him.

The glass of squash is empty on the counter next to him. His arms crossed against his chest. His face still broody and eyes half lidded looking at you. You fight the urge to look away from him. There was once a time you took down a whole gang. You can take on Jimin.

“The hours aren’t ideal, but the pays ok,” your voice comes out steady, you’ve always been good at hiding your true feelings behind a mask of indifference. “Jungkook thinks he can get it for you, but he wanted to ask –”

“So why didn’t he?”

It surprises you, makes your heart ache a little how flatly he says it. Still, you hold yourself together. “Because he’s at work. He asked me to pass the message on.”

He hums, a short, unimpressed noise. A noise that makes you twist to take another bite of food. It tastes like sand in your mouth.

“Would you just say it?” You mutter, the ache caused by your heart making you hot headed. You look back at Jimin seeing it’s his time to be surprised. “You clearly have stuff you want to say. So would you just say it already?”

It doesn’t take much convincing. You can see one of his fingers tapping on his crossed arms, his jaw tight.

“You betrayed us, Y/N, why would I ever trust you again?”

“I betrayed you? Jimin, you were the one who always said you wanted out. I got you out.”

“At the cost of my best friend? At the cost of the people who I classed as my family losing everything? At the cost of me losing everything? You think I wanted that?”

It hurts and you don’t point out that he hasn’t lost you, that surely that’s something; because clearly it’s not. Clenching your teeth, you just focus on not showing him your emotions. You didn’t expect your decision to be popular, but you could have let him go down with the rest of them, you thought that would have amounted to something, you thought that would have confirmed some of your feelings you had for him were still there.

“You betrayed your own family, Y/N,” he’s looking at you as if he doesn’t recognise you and it breaks you that much more.

You didn’t want to fight with him. You expected him to be angry with you, to say things that upset you, you just thought you’d be able to take it better than you are. But it all hits you. The emotions long bottled inside you finally come crashing out.

“My family?” You bite, frowning at the words, your hurt boiling down into frustration. “What family, Jimin? Tell me when they ever treated me like family? Was it when they forced me out, or when they refused to welcome me back? Maybe it was when they failed to recognise the fact that even as a woman I could do as much as them?”

He shakes his head but doesn’t reply verbally. It tells you everything. He has no argument against anything you’ve just said. And yet he still defends them.

“I’m not expecting a thank you. I don’t expect you to necessarily forgive me, but come on, you need to move on at some point. I’m doing all of this, giving you a home, the least you can do is contribute a little.” Or just leave, you add in your head.

A nerve ticks in his jaw. Despite his words and the way he now looks at you, you still feel hope. He doesn’t have anywhere to go, but if he hated you that much he could have left by now. He’s not contributing anything to this household, but at least he’s still here.

Still, you worry about him. Despite your words, you don’t want him to leave. You hardly see him, and yet if he wasn’t here you think that would be your breaking point.

“Let me know what you want to do about the job,” you sigh the words as you stand from the table.

Taking the bowl to the sink you place it with the rest of the dirty dishes, knowing you’ll have to clean them later but not having the energy to do it now. With Jungkook working two jobs and Jimin clearly not wanting to be here it always falls on you. You try and not let it get to you but sometimes you wonder if all of this was a mistake. Maybe you should have stayed away. Maybe you should never have come back.

As you turn to leave Jimin speaks, stopping you.

“There’s just one thing I keep wondering,” you wait for him to say it, your features hard so as not to betray your feelings. “Why did you come back for me? Why did you get me out?”

Your focus is on the door rather than him. You’ve been expecting this, not least because you’ve been questioning it yourself. Even Jungkook brings it up at any opportunity he can.

“Because you wanted out,” you say and before you can think better of it, carry on. “And honestly, Jimin, at this point if you don’t know why, then you clearly don’t know me at all.”

Before he can come back with anything you carry on towards the door. You’ve got things you need to be doing, even if Jimin doesn’t, you’re trying to get back into a normal life.

“Let me know if you want that job.”

Your life becomes monotonous. A drag of waking up early to clean the flat, heading off to work and doing long shifts, coming home to a quiet house that is mess of dishes and clothes again, a storm left behind in Jungkook and Jimin’s wake. You don’t berate Jungkook, he’s doing so much for you that you can tolerate cleaning up after him. But some days that thought doesn’t make it any easier. You couldn’t complain to Jimin if you wanted to, still hardly ever see him.

It’s lonely, boring, a life you never thought you’d have. And yet here you are.

You carry on going only because of Jungkook and Jimin. Though you never see them, you feel like you’re why they’re here. If you hate this, then they surely hate it. You caused this, the least you could is not abandon them.

Slowly, you open up to people at work. Enough that you can have small conversations with them on breaks, but not enough that they know anything significant about you. They’re still more co-workers than friends. But it’s nice to have people in your life to talk to even if it is mainly about the weather and their lives.

It’s repetitive. Boring. Lonely. And you start to find the only thing that helps is a glass of wine in the evenings. Not much, but even the small amount of alcohol helps take the edge off. It helps your mind become quieter, helps the day feel less long, helps you actually look forward to something. It helps your heart stop aching. Helps you drift off to sleep a little easier.

“So, uh, I have to tell you something.”

“What?” You ask as you shove the jam covered slice of toast into your mouth, only half listening to Jungkook as you pour a cup of tea.

“Can you sit for a minute?”

“I have to get to the shop for opening.”

“Y/N,” he doesn’t say it sharply, but the tone he uses is still enough to get you to look at him. “It’ll only take a minute. Please, will you just sit?”

It does its job, you finally stop long enough to look at him. You hadn’t realised just how nervous he was. He’s holding it together but you can see it in his tense shoulders and stiff posture. Your nerves peak as you place your toast on a plate and stop pouring your tea. You don’t rush to sit down, your mind whirling with thoughts of what he could possibly be about to tell you.

“You’re worrying me,” you say when Jungkook doesn’t immediately spit it out.

“It’s nothing. Well, it’s not. But it’s good.”

“Ok?”

He pauses, the silence only increasing the sick feeling in your stomach, only increasing the amount of thoughts swimming around your head. You’re about to tell him to hurry up but he beats you to it.

“I met someone,” he rushes to say. “A girl. And she’s asking me to move in with her.”

A wave of emotions run over you. Surprise, since when did that happen? Anger, because moving in with someone is a big thing, which means he must have been hiding this from you for a while. Hurt, that he didn’t talk to you, that he hid this from you. And a sad happiness for him. Because although he looks worried you can see the hope and desire there, he wants your approval for this but worries you won’t give it.

“Who is she?”

“A girl I met at work.”

“And you know her well enough to be moving in together?”

He’s flushed but keeps a straight face. “I met her my first day, but we only started dating a few months ago.”

Months. Your heart drops with the information. Because he never told you about it, because he has more of a life than you, because it only solidifies how lonely you are. He’s your family and he’s only telling you about his girlfriend, someone he likes enough to be moving in with, months after they met. You once would have been the first person he told. He once would have been too excited to keep the information from you. You once would have been too observant for him to even try and hide something like this from you.

And just like that, more walls of your life crumble around you.

Heart beating in your throat you try not to show him your emotions. It’s been easy to hide how depressed you’ve felt recently from him, more because you hardly see him, but you’re also a master at hiding behind a mask. Now, you have to turn away from him to hide your face, a sure fire way to tell him just how you feel.

Predictably, you hear him take a step in your direction, “it won’t change –”

“I know,” you curse your tight throat as another give away.

“I’ll come back all the time,” he adds. “I can still help you with bills.”

“Don’t be stupid,” you say before taking a deep breath and looking back at him, forcing a smile onto your lips. “I’m happy for you.”

He doesn’t look convinced. But before he can continue to protest you carry on.

“You don’t need my permission.”

“But I’d like it,” he says, slipping into your old roles. “There’s not enough room for me here and we can’t all live here together forever. But I also don’t want to leave you here. I know you’re struggling but we all need to move on from what’s happened.”

Move on from the mess you made. Move on from the betrayal. If everything had gone to plan you would have moved on, or at least Jungkook would have. Jimin would have been behind bars. You would have been on your own wallowing the same way you are now. Maybe there was a small part of you that hoped you’d be able to move on too, to make something of yourself, to start a new life. But a large part of you knew this would be your life. You at least imagined you’d be able to pretend, push your thoughts down deep, try to not think of your brother and Jimin locked up all day, of Jungkook moving on.

Jungkook has only stuck around so long because you changed plans, because you went back for Jimin. Jungkook deserves to go live his life.

“You think leaving me and Jimin here alone is a good thing?” You feel guilty as soon as you say the words.

He shrugs, avoids your eyes as he says, “maybe it’ll help bring you closer.”

You glare at him. “He barely leaves his room.”

“Maybe you should force him out a bit more.”

“And how am I supposed to do that?”

You regret the words instantly, but even though Jungkook has time to flash you a cheeky smile, you don’t have time to interrupt him before he says, “I can think of several things that you could do to get Jimin out of that room.”

“Gross,” you say flatly, pushing past him. “If you’re saying all of this to get me to tell you to leave, it’s working.”

There’s a small chuckle behind you, but there’s no smile on your lips now. Your heart still thumps in your throat.

You’re happy for him, really you are. It’s just sad. You can’t help but feel like everyone’s slipping away from you.

It’s no good, with Jungkook gone it fixes nothing between you and Jimin.

Jungkook visits still but it’s not the same. While he’s getting on with his life, creating something new, you’re still stuck. In a different place, under different circumstances but going nowhere. And now you don’t have anyone.

You grow lonelier. Hardly seeing anyone besides the people at work. Inside your own head more only makes things worse. Gives you time to remember how things used to be, how different it is now. It makes you remember the smiles. Because life wasn’t always bad, there were good times.

And you ruined it all.

You brought this on you. You couldn’t get over the fact your family didn’t want you and you destroyed it for everyone. There’s no pretending that there wasn’t good from it, that you were helping people as much as ruining many people’s lives. But it was selfish, you did it all for you. And now you can’t help but wonder if it was worth it.

To be in this tiny flat, barely getting by. With Jungkook moved out and moving on. Hardly seeing Jimin, the little you do he says little and avoids your gaze. Your brother in jail. You have no one.

And still you get up every day. Still you clean and cook and go to work. You try to carry on with your life as best you can. Try to push the bad thoughts away. Try and pretend life is normal.

Jimin’s door is open when you get home. It feels like slow motion as you walk to the door frame and creak open the door and peer in. Empty.

This is it, you think, he’s finally left me.

Your eyes glance around the small room. A single bed, blue sheets crisp and neatly tucked in. Cream shades pulled down over the window to block the night out. A wooden chest of draws leaving enough room to shuffle between it and the bed. A small desk, only big enough for a lamp and laptop. No personality. No indication of who lives here. No attachment, ready to be left at the drop of a hat.

He wouldn’t leave, would he? Part of you thinks he would. But the other part thinks of his room, all of his stuff still sat in there and thinks he wouldn’t leave without it. Another part hopes he wouldn’t leave without saying goodbye.

Maybe he’s just gone out, the first time you’ve caught him doing that, you expect because he only ever risks leaving his room when he knows he won’t see you. But Jungkook text you earlier letting you know Jimin finally accepted the job, so maybe this is the start of him getting back into himself.

You know it’s your insecurities talking. Because though you don’t doubt Jimin doesn’t wants to be here, you also know he has nowhere else to go. He doesn’t have the money from his job yet, he’s still having to rely on you.

You walk back to the kitchen, get as far as opening the fridge to see what you can find to eat for tea. But you stop there. A thought occurs to you.

It’s stupid really. He’s probably just gone out for food or to the pub. But you can’t stop thinking about it when the thought occurs.

What if he’s on the roof?

He won’t be. And even if he is what would that mean? That he wanted some fresh air probably. But he won’t even be there.

You take a box of leftovers out of the fridge walk over and place it by the microwave but get no further.

What if he’s on the roof?

The thought takes you over enough that you end up forgetting about food and instead head to the front door again. You don’t even put your coat on as you head up the stairs rather than down them. You feel a little out of breath when you reach the steel door at the top. Pausing you take a breath, try to wrangle your thumping heart into a box, settle your expectations so that you won’t be disappointed.

The door feels cold as you push it open. Your heart plumets when you first see empty space, but then soars when you see a figure huddled off to the side. You can’t stop the words escaping your mouth.

“Thought I’d find you here.”

Jimin looks across at you, his eyes are heavy and make him look like he’s had little sleep. His smile is small and compared to his normal smile does nothing to light up his face. But it’s still a smile.

“It’s not quite the same as our roof.”

Our roof. The words make your breath catch in your throat. Looking out at the night to hide your emotions at the words you walk towards him until you can rest on the ledge next to him.

“The views not as good,” you agree after a few seconds of silence.

He hums in reply, a silence falling over the two of you. It’s not just the view that’s different, it’s everything. The silence eats at you in a way it never has before when you’ve been with Jimin. He’s lost his spark and you can’t help but blame yourself for that. You’ve changed his life, whether or not it’s for the better you made such a monumental decision on his behalf without considering how it might affect him. While you’re in no doubt he would have done the same for you, you can’t help but let the decision eat away at you. Should you have done it? Would it be better if you hadn’t dragged him away under false pretence? Would it be easier for him to hate you if he wasn’t sat next to you?

“Jungkook told me you’d accepted the job at the club,” you say meekly, not wanting to rock the boat too much. “I’m happy for you.”

Jimin doesn’t respond, doesn’t hum or nod like he normally does when you talk to him these days. And like always you try and pretend it doesn’t hurt you.

“And hey, maybe it’ll mean you can start paying towards the bills.”

As soon as the words leave your lips you regret them. Even though you say them in a light-hearted tone, clearly as a joke, you know Jimin won’t hear it that way. He’s probably thinking that you mean it, that you want him to give you money, that you want him gone. All of which is the opposite of what you want.

“Sorry I –”

“No,” he cuts you off with a mutter. “You’re right, I should be doing more.”

Well shit.

That was the last thing you expected him to say, which effectively stops your brain from coming up with any other words.

The two of you stand in silence looking out at the city. The noise of the road and some young people shouting and laughing reaches you from the street below. Part of you hates this, but another part doesn’t want to do anything to stop it. At least Jimin’s here. At least you’re not entirely alone. At least you’re not fighting.

“I went to see Yoongi.”

Your head snaps his way. When did he do that? How had he done that? The questions forms in your head but your mouth is unable to create the words. Jimin doesn’t look at you, his features not showing any emotions. He’s impossible to read. But, despite your silence, he must know what questions you want to ask as he goes on to answer them all.

“I found out where they locked him up and requested visitation. I wasn’t expecting it to be accepted, I thought the second they had him they’d throw away the key. It took a few weeks, but my request was accepted.”

Your breath becomes laboured. Your brain working faster than Jimin can get the words out, trying to second guess what he’s going to say.

In the pause after his words he finally turns to look at you. His eyes dart around your face as if trying to remember you. You wait, give him time to say whatever it is he’s thinking. Your heart hoping, but your mind reminding you how much you’ve hoped in the past and how every time Jimin’s let you down.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

Now it’s you avoiding his face. The words, the way he says them and the gentle yet pained look on his face makes your throat dry. You can’t answer him. You don’t know what he wants you to say, because even if you had an answer, you don’t know how it would make it better.

“You let me think this whole time you’d locked him up,” he carries on. “But you made a plea deal for him.”

It’s not a question but you still find yourself nodding in confirmation.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” He repeats.

“I wasn’t sure he’d accept the deal,” you say, not the real answer. After a beat you add, “would it have changed anything?”

“Maybe,” he mutters but you know it’s a lie. It wouldn’t have changed anything, it’s one of the reasons you never said anything.

The silence drags out. Both of you staring out at the world below you, cars honking, people getting on with their lives, buildings standing steady and tall. The world hasn’t changed, it’s still going on. It doesn’t provide any comfort. All these weeks you’ve been struggling, silently getting on with life and Jimin’s been seeing Yoongi and clinging onto your old life, blaming you for everything.

You’ve had enough of it.

“You know,” you say, ignoring the fact that your voice his raspy and full of emotion. “It still hurts that you don’t believe in me. It’s stupid, because you’d think I’d be used to it by now, but you really have a knack for making be me believe you. I could have told you about Yoongi, but would that have changed anything? You’re only saying all this because you feel guilty, but you’ve always thought the bare minimum of me until I’ve proved the opposite. I’ve always had to work for your approval, Jimin, no matter what you want to think. And it’s stupid, but it still breaks me when you automatically think the worst of me. After everything I’ve done to show you the opposite.” You pause, still unable to look at Jimin, unable to see what he must be thinking. “I didn’t know he would accept it,” you mutter, voice once again thick. “I set up the option for him to work with the police, but I didn’t think he’d actually take it.”

You push away from the wall and as you walk away Jimin doesn’t try to stop you. His head twists to look back out across the city, his body slumping a little deeper into the wall as you turn to walk back to the flat.

#jimin fic #jimin x reader #bts fic #jimin fanfic #jimin mafia au

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stormblessed95 · 2 years

Note

Hey stormie!!

Came across this interesting YouTube video (https://youtu.be/kVqTACAN7Nk) - it has 3 men, all gay, talking about gay stereotypes and they approve/disprove each one. One of the men is Korean and he talks about how he watches if guys have limp wrists, particularly stronger masculine looking men (it was at the very beginning and end of the video). And then I came across this post about Jungkook with limp wrists (https://mobile.twitter.com/illicitvk/status/1579651985783279616).

I just don't see how some people can be in denial over Jungkook being queer (which in hindsight is probably a good thing, to protect him and Jimin). Also from BTS's own mouth, the first words Jungkook said to Namjoon were "wow thighs!"

https://mobile.twitter.com/yvestiddies/status/1321597827357708289

Sorry for the long post!

This was a cute and fun video! Thanks for sharing it, I'd actually recommend watching the whole thing, especially for my straight followers here. It's mostly just for fun, but it does give insight into queer people recognizing queer people and queer signaling.

youtube

Another thing I'll point out if that he mentioned in Korea, with Kpop, he would take particular note over if a guy had an affinity for girl groups songs and that it would make his gaydar go off. Lol and then we again (since you mentioned JK here) JKs affinity and love for girl group dances, to the point where a 20 minute compilation video can be made lol

youtube

Your second link, where you talk about limp wrists and link to photos of JK with a limp wrist, I'm not going to like that myself, the account is a JM anti tkkr. But I WILL instead link this edit, which is one of my FAVS. I also will NEVER forget the absurdity of a kpop article compiling JKs limp wrist photos and saying fans love JKs flexible wrists that he does because he "acts like a bunny" 😭🤣 save my man from the hets 🤣

And yes, the amazement over Joons thighs at their first meeting. Not to mention also the way he scanned G dragon in a full body stare on stage once or talks about how RDJ is his celebrity crush 🤣 man's is so 🌈

Plus there is zero hetero explanation for half the shit he does with Jimin too. So just ya know. Lol I too, don't understand how people can't see the queerness in Jungkook. But WHATEVER!

#JK rainbow moments #Jungkook rainbow moments

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ateez-himari · 1 year

Text

Moments : Jungkook & Himari LIVE

(230802)

H : I think Atiny might be shocked if they hear that we did a live stream together...they don't know that we're friends...

J : We've known each other for 9 years and you haven't told them ?

H : No...because your tattoos make you look like a delinquent...and Atiny says that I can't be friends with delinquents

J : [Rummaging through the mini fridge] Hima...did you see the bottle of banana milk I brought over ? I thought I put it in here...

H : [Holding the exact bottle he was talking about with his name written on it] ...Maybe one of the members took it...Wooyoung oppa's sneaky

J : [Walking back into frame] I thought the only ones at the company were in the other practice room th-

H : [Didn't know he was coming so has the object of the crime in her hand while she reads comments] ...I have no idea how it got here

J : One of the comments earlier said that Wooyoung thinks your representative emoji should be a bunny like me...I think he's right

H : [Walks back from the computer and bites him on the shoulder]

J : AHH WHAT THE-

H : HOW WAS THAT FOR A BUNNY ?

[After reading a comment from a fan that had just heard about Himari getting her driver's license a while ago]

H : Not many people know this for some reason...but it's true, I got my driver's license in March actually...so before Hongjoong-oppa

J : Considering how bad you are at Mario Kart I'm surprised that they even let you step foot in a car...

H : ...Oppa are you gonna hold rainbow road over my head forever ?

J : Considering your height I'd say that everything is over your head...

J : [Responding to a comment asking how the two met] She just appeared in my nightmares one day...and she never left

H : ...That's why I'm Yoongi-oppa's favorite

J : [Whispering while Himari is laying on the floor looking at her phone] Watch...after years of knowing each other she still doesn't know the basics about me. [Turns to her and goes back to speaking normally] Yah Hima, how big is the age difference between us ?

H : [Puts her phone down and turns to lay towards him] Well you were born in '98 so...3 years, why ?

J : I was born in 1997...

H : No you weren't ! [Googles 'Jungkook birthday'] ...Why would you lie to Google ?

H : [Wordlessly walks behind Jungkook and grabs the sides of his biceps before shaking him]

J : What are you doing-

H : Jungshook...

J : What's wrong with you...

H : [Dying of laughter on the floor next to him]

H : Oppa I love you !

J : [Reaches into his bag and pulls out 10 000 won before handing the bill to her] Here you go

H : That's not even-

J : [Cuts her off by giving her yet another bill]

H : Can I not simply love you-

#ateez 9th member #ateez au #ateez extra member #ateez female member #ateez imagines #kpop oc

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csanflower · 1 year

Text

“you drew stars around my scars”

pairing: experimented on! jungkook x experimented on! reader

powers au!, childhood besties au!, patients au!

genre: angst, fluff, sfw

wc: 5.9k

synopsis: meeting jungkook was like gazing up at the brightest star in the sky as you lay helpless on the cold ground in the dark night. you both found comfort in one another. you healed each other as you suffered through painful experiments together. the pain was bearable, with him by your side. whenever he was around, your smiles were brighter, your shoulders were lighter, and all your worries just seemed to disappear in an instant. good things don’t last though. you learned that the hard way.

jungkook and y/n meet in the hospital both trying to be cured of their ‘disease’ (they have powers :O) and form memories along the way <3

tw: experiments on human (not detailed though), scars, gun

*inspired by ‘cardigan’ by taylor swift: “you drew stars around my scars” pls listen to it while u read this 🥹🥹(A/N: GONNA BE FIGHTING HARD FOR TICKETS TO ERAS TOUR THIS WEEK SO I WROTE THIS HOPING TO MANIFEST SOME TICKETS😭🙏🙏)

——

13 june, 2005

You monitored the pale, white room around you. White bed. White cupboard. White walls. You sighed in frustration. Your rainbow obsessed 7 year old brain screamed at you to add some colour to the walls. Note to self: Bring crayons to colour walls next time.

“Please…I will take care of her… don’t do this…”

Hearing the small familiar voice of your mother, your eyes lit up, and you climbed onto your white bed, propping your elbows onto the tiny window frame in the small room, peeking your small head out as you stared curiously into the other room. Your mother talking to a man in a white coat. They were having a serious conversation, and your mother seemed like she was about to cry. Why is mommy crying? Is she hurt? You thought to yourself, immediately jumping off the bed and running to the room next door to find your mother and comfort her.

The moment you entered the room your mother was in, you noticed she instantly wiped her tears away, trying to hide her tears from you.

“Hey sweetie, you like the room?” She plastered a smile on her face as she looked endearingly at you.

“It was alright. It could have more colour though. Next time I should bring my crayons and draw Bibi on it!” You let out a huge smile at the thought of Bibi, showing off your missing front tooth. Bibi was your imaginary friend. Picture a golden retriever, but covered in rainbows. Making friends were not exactly your specialty. For some reason, everyone called you a freak and did not want to talk to you, all because you were able to move things with your mind. And so you found comfort in your imaginary friend Bibi instead. He was the only one who understood you.

“Hey sweetheart, you’ll be staying here for a while, ok? It’s to make you better. Don’t worry, mommy will come back to visit when I can.” You could tell your mother was holding back her tears. It was the same face she made when daddy screamed at her and left us, or when she received a call that grandma died.

“W-why can’t mommy stay with me?” You felt tears brimming at your eyes as a sinking feeling appeared in your heart. You could feel that something bad was happening.

“Y/n, you are a danger to your mother. You need to stay here to get better-“ The doctor in the coat was cut off as I screamed out loud.

“NO! I WANT MY MOMMY! IM NOT GOING TO STAY HERE!” Your tears were overwhelming you as more people stomped into the room, grabbing your mother’s arms as she tried to grab you into her embrace. She had released her tears by now, sobbing uncontrollably. The people who stomped into the room grabbed her arms harshly, dragging her away from me and out of the door.

You felt your arms being pulled back by the doctor as you tried reaching out for your mother. You let out a frustrated scream, as your emotions ran rampage. The room around you started to shake and you unintentionally slammed everyone in the room against the hard wall — including your mother. Everyone except you fell hard to the ground as they hit the wall, all groaning in pain. You looked at your mother apologetically, then looked at your own hands in disgust. What have I done?

Your mother looks at you with one last glance, glossy eyes as she mouths to you ‘It’s ok, i love you’ The security people, as if unphased from the hit, immediately got up, containing their job as they dragged your mother forcefully out of the room. You didn’t dare to stop them. Not after what you did. You knew you were a monster.

“Do you see now, y/n? You’re a danger to everyone. If you want to be fixed, you will do the wise choice of cooperating with us so you can see your mother again.” The doctor got up slowly, looking at you with a cunning smile.

You gulped. You were scared. So, so scared and lonely. But you knew you had to do this. You had to get better. You had to make your mom proud. So you bravely nodded, agreeing to stay at the facility to get help.

—

2006

You never saw your mother again after that incident. You were unsure if she chose not to see you again because she thought you were a monster or if she was not allowed to visit you, but you sure hoped it was the latter.

You grew accustomed to the lifestyle. Everyday, your morning would be filled with ‘recreational activities’ like playing chess, but having to move the pieces with your mind, or doing basic commands with your powers that the doctors made you do. Afternoons were the worst. They would strap you into the terrifying pink chair in the ‘rainbow room’ and conduct experiments on your brain. For a room called ‘rainbow room’, it was certainly not full of rainbows. You would have to sit through hours of excruciating pain as the voices in your head overwhelmed you. There were so many needles, blood. But there was nothing you could do. None of the doctors cared for you. You had no one.

As time passed, you started getting used to the lifestyle. The food wasn’t bad, you had a chef that would make what you wanted, and servants that would get you what want. The only issue was the loneliness. You realised you were the only patient at the facility. Nobody ever talked to you. The guards, doctors and servants were not allowed to form a relationship with you. You had no one to talk to — except Bibi. But you knew Bibi wasn’t real. You weren’t a kid anymore - you had matured quickly from having to face the bitter reality. Bibi was merely your coping mechanism from the horrors of your daily life.

That was until he came along.

On 13 June, 2006, Jeon Jungkook, a 9 year old boy, was admitted into your facility exactly a year after your admittance. You were excited when you heard the news. You would finally have someone to talk to, someone to share your pain and to hang out with — a friend. Sadly, you did not hit it off as well as you expected it to. Jungkook was a shy, frightened boy, slightly shorter than you, eyes red and puffy probably from the amount of times he cried after being separated from his family. You felt for him. You were in the exact same situation as him a year ago, and you understood that he needed some private time to heal himself. He was definitely not in the mood for making friends. So you kept your distance for a while, not wanting to seem too desperate.

Until the night of his first experience in the ‘rainbow room’. You laid on your bed, reading the same book for the thousandth time as you sighed in boredom. Until you heard a sniffle in the hallway.

Curious, you stepped out of your room, not shocked to see Jungkook crouching into a little ball in the hallway outside his room, crying quietly. You could see the deep scars left on his left arm, the same ones you get daily from the experiments. You crouch down beside him softly, hesitantly patting his back as you tried to comfort him wordlessly. At first, he looked tense and uncomfortable at your touch, but he slowly eased into it as he saw the same scars on your arms. You inched closer to him, giving him a warm embrace as you cried together with him.

After that night, the two of you became closer. He realised that you were just like him. That he was not alone in his painful journey. And so started your friendship with Jungkook.

You soon realised Jungkook was more than a shy, frightened boy. He could be playful and kind at times, and he quickly became your close friend — more like only friend.

He painted your bleak childhood colourful with memories and fun moments. The two of you would make inside jokes about the staff there, laughing at how they always wore the same clothes and probably didn’t wash them, and joke over stupid things like whose powers were stronger or who was taller.

Yet despite all the jokes, the two of you placed deep trust in one another, comforting each other when the experiments got too harsh and painful, convincing each other that it would end some day. Mornings and afternoons of playfulness and fun ended in late nights of cuddling and crying together. This lifestyle became a norm for the two of you. But still it was tolerable, because you had each other.

—

2010

“Y/n, look what I found!” Jungkook ran into your room with a big, smug toothy grin on his face, hiding something behind his back.

“Did you finally find out where your room actually is? Because I’m starting to think you don’t know that since you’re always in my room.” You rolled your eyes playfully as you pretended not to be interested in what he actually brought.

His smile faltered for a second, processing your words, before he faked an angry frown, and pounced onto your bed that you were laying on, tickling you as revenge.

“Ok stop,” you giggled, “I was just kidding, tell me what you brought.” He finally stopped tickling you, pulling something from under his shirt behind his back, as he excitedly presented it to you.

You jaw dropped in shock as you immediately snatched it from his hand, staring at it in disbelief.

“That’s right! A full set of rainbow coloured crayons just for you!” Jungkook beamed with pride.

It was only the previous night that you admitted your obsession with rainbows to him, telling him stories about Bibi, and sharing about how you wished you could colour your room walls. You’ve been begging the workers for some sort of colour since you’ve arrived, but they never met your requests, saying that it was too “childish”. You couldn’t help but wonder how Jungkook managed to get it.

“I bet Bibi could have never gotten this for you, it just proved I’m a much better friend than him!”

You laughed at Jungkook’s statement. After telling him about Bibi, he had been so jealous that you had another friend other than him, even though you repeatedly told him numerous times that Bibi was an imaginary friend. However, you didn’t admit that you hadn’t talked to Bibi in a long time since you’d made friends with Jungkook. That would make his pride swell too much.

“How did you get it? The workers never ever let me get anything like this!” You were still in disbelief.

“Well, doctor choi has been wanting to do the new form of experiment on me since a few weeks back, and he said he would reward me with anything I wanted if I did it! So since I’m the bravest and coolest person ever, I did it today!” Jungkook said with a smug smile.

You frowned when you heard what he said. For the past few weeks, Jungkook had opposed greatly to doing the new format of experiments, since it was on a much larger scale than the previous experiments we had done. Our previous experiments usually ended in scars on our arms, but this new experiment was performed on the whole body. Jungkook had protested against it, because he was too afraid of needles. He had always been less receptive to pain than you. But why did he suddenly agree to do it today?

You looked down on Jungkook’s body, noticing new scars that were on his legs. He quickly tried covering them, saying, “It’s no big deal! It wasn’t even painful!”

You knew it had to be painful. The size of the scarring were just much larger than the usual. You pouted in guilt, hugging Jungkook tightly, “You didn’t have to do that! I bet it hurt so bad!”

“It’s fine, I just wanted to do something for you after all you’ve done for me…” He looked at you, face blushing slightly from your close proximity.

That night, the two of you didn’t sleep, colouring the plain walls with the crayons until dawn broke.

“Pfff. What is that supposed to be?” Jungkook muffled his laughter when he turned to see what you were drawing.

Frowning, you exclaimed, “It’s the galaxy! These are all the planets and all my beautiful stars!”

“Those are supposed to be stars?! They’re so ugly!” Jungkook joked with you.

You threw one of the crayons in his face, ignoring his comments. You didn’t care how ugly your drawing was, you loved seeing the sky and stars shining. Especially the stars. Stars were your favourite thing. Before you came here, you and your mother went stargazing every week, staring into the beautiful sky. Even though you probably would never be able to see them again since you weren’t allowed out of the building, you still held on to the hope that maybe one day you could have that chance again.

You stared at your galaxy for a while before turning over to Jungkook’s side to see what he was drawing.

You were shocked to realise that he was a much better artist than you. You inched closer to his side, smiling when you realised what he drew. A portrait of you and him together, on a lush green field, staring up into a sky full of stars. Although you never told him directly about your love for stars, you realised he must have guessed it from all the times you talked about them and tried drawing them. Your felt your heart beat a little bit faster at the thought of Jungkook being so attentive to your likes.

Your eyes trailed down to below the beautiful drawing to see a small writing below.

‘Y/n and Jungkook together forever!’

—

2015

As the years ticked by quickly, Jungkook started growing from a boy into a man. Once he hit puberty, he shot up like a tree and grew muscles. His featured became more defined and he grew out of his baby fat. You noticed that as Jungkook turned into a teenager, he had also turned more rebellious towards the workers, always unwilling to follow through their instructions and ending up getting punished. Yet he still stayed kind and sweet towards you, acting like the same 10 year old boy when he’s around you.

“One more time and we will not tolerate this anymore! You got it?”

Hearing the faint voice of doctor choi, you quietly get up from your bed and run to your door, peeking out softly, looking in the hallway.

Doctor Choi stood outside of Jungkook’s room in anger, scolding him. You could barely see Jungkook from your angle, only seeing half of his body.

“Ya, ya whatever. I won’t do it again.” Jungkook rolled his eyes and then slammed the door in Doctor Choi’s face, resulting in Doctor Choi stomping away in anger.

When you were sure Doctor Choi was out of sight, you quietly tip toed to Jungkook’s room, knocking on his door impatiently.

“What more do you want? I-“ Jungkook opened the door, annoyed.

When he saw you, he paused and his eyes softened.

“What did you do again? I was so worried when I couldn’t find you this morning! You have to start being more careful! These people have power over our entire lives! You can’t just act recklessly like this!” You immediately pushed past him and entered his room, sitting on his bed, as you looked at him angrily.

He carried a childishly guilty look, nervously scratching the back of his neck.

“I didn’t do anything bad! I just kind of sneaked out…”

“What!?? You tried sneaking out again?? Are you crazy? You could get into serious trouble-“

“I didn’t try, I did sneak out. I succeeded.” He said with a smug smirk on his face.

You paused your words in shock.

“Wait what? You sneaked out? Whats outside? Did you see the sky? How did you sneak out?” You bombarded him with questions.

He chickled slightly, sitting beside you in the bed.

“Chill, it’s mostly just greenery. But I found a really nice spot. I’ll take you there tonight.” He smiled gently at you.

You don’t know why you agreed with Jungkook’s ridiculous rebellious plan, but the thought of even a chance of being able to see the night sky again was just too tempting.

So now you and Jungkook were currently hiding in the vents, waiting for the right time to sneak out when nobody was looking. You sat rolled up in a circle beside Jungkook who looked noticeably more uncomfortable than you due to his size. The two of you were inches away from each other and you could feel your face heating up at the close proximity.

“This is really uncomfortable.” You muttered in the awkwardness.

He chuckled stating that it would be worth it.

Sure enough, he was right, as he usually was. When the workers were not looking, he quickly dragged you out of the vent as the two of you ran as quickly and quietly as you could to the spot he was talking about.

“Don’t open your eyes!” Jungkook placed his large hands over your eyes excitedly as he led you quietly to the spot.

You followed him blindly, placing your trust in him.

“OK! Open your eyes now!” You could hear the smile in his voice, excitedly opening your eyes.

When you peeled your eyes open, you stayed silent, in awe at the view you saw. The sky was pitch black, but the bright stars around twinkled in the dark. You felt like crying. You’ve been longing for this view for years. And now that you could see it in real life you didn’t know how to feel.

“I-It’s not the best view but I thought you would like it.” Jungkook said with a shy smile.

“It’s beautiful, Jungkook! I love it so much.” You were on the verge of tears, throwing yourself onto him as you embraced him tightly in gratitude.

You could feel him sigh in relief, hugging you back just as tightly.

“I’m glad you love it.”

The two of you sat on the field in silence, staring at the sky in awe. From your peripheral view, you noticed that Jungkook was looking at you the whole time.

“You should take a picture, it’ll last longer.” You joked with him as you turned to him momentarily.

“I really wish I could.” He replied.

You kept quietly, not expecting that response. The two of you stayed quiet for a while before you broke the silence.

“My mom used to bring me out to star gaze every week… I miss her so much.”

Jungkook looked at you in slight shock, not knowing how to reply. Though the two of you shared everything with each other, parents were not a topic you commonly discussed as it was pretty sensitive.

As silence engulfed the two of you again, you asked Jungkook, “Do you want a family when you grow up?”

“Yes, but only with the woman I love.” He stared intensely at you.

You looked back into his eyes, not knowing how to reply.

“Y/n, you are the one I lo-“

You cut him off quickly, pressing your finger onto his lips.

“Please don’t, I don’t think I can handle that.” You say apologetically, “I don’t deserve to be loved. My scars, they’re too ugly. I- I’m ugly. I don’t deserve love.” Your tears fumbled your words.

Jungkook’s eyebrows fumbled, his strong arms grabbing your arms gently, relentlessly pulling it towards him even as you tried your best to pull it away. He gently looked at your scars, rubbing onto them as he pulled them to his lips and kissed them gently.

“They’re beautiful y/n, everything about you is beautiful.”

Your tears started pouring as Jungkook looked at you with so much love and affection, kissing your ugly scars with so much care as if they were the most beautiful thing in the world.

“No they’re not, I can’t even look at them. It hurts, Jungkook. I hate everything about myself.” You leaned your head on his shoulders as you cried harder.

Jungkook hesitated for a moment, before grabbing something out from his pocket.

You almost laughed amidst your tears when you saw what he took out. A pink crayon. You remember giving that to him because you refused to use that colour in your drawings, stating that you hated that colour. (mostly because it was the colour of the chair in the rainbow room) As years passed and your crayons were used up, you never knew he had kept that crayon until this day, keeping it in his pocket like that.

You kept quiet as you watched him curiously. He grabbed your arms gently, drawing cute little stars around them.

“Look, now your arm is a cute little galaxy. It’s even more beautiful than the sky up there.” He smiled gently at you.

Looking at your arm now, you chuckled slightly as it did slightly resemble the universe above you. Jungkook used his fingers to wipe away the tears below your eyes.

“Since I kissed your scars, don’t you think you should kiss mine too?” He smirked.

You laughed, tears dissipating as you bent down and kissed the scars on his arm as well. You grabbed the pink crayon, drawing stars around his scars as well. You frowned when you realise his little universe didn’t look nearly as nice as yours.

“Wow you’re trying to make my scars uglier with your ugly stars.” He teased you.

This time, instead of throwing the crayon into his faces, you smiled endearingly as you leaned your head onto his chest, savouring as much as you could of this sweet moment.

“Jungkook… sorry for cutting you off just now. In fact, I-I actually love-“

Just as you were about to confess, you were suddenly interrupted.

“Jeon Jungkook! I told you no more sneaking out! This is it! You will be punished! Grab her!”

You felt yourself being pulled away from Jungkook’s side as two strong men grabbed both sides of your arms.

“Let go of me!” You tried pushing yourself off and using your powers but you were too weak after the experiments this week.

“Stop! Let go of her now!”

You’ve never seen Jungkook this mad before. Jungkook used his powers, twisting the heads of the two men holding you, making them crumble on the floor with blood gushing out of their eyes. You looked at Jungkook in shock.

Before you could run away, more men appeared, grabbing you once again, other men grabbing onto Jungkook.

At this point, you were a sobbing mess and the both of you were unable to escape since Jungkook’s powers were too weak from attacking the two men.

Jungkook was fuming, struggling in the grip of the two men, as he repeatedly shouted, “Don’t hurt her! Please! Let her go!”

You could feel yourself getting weaker as the men holding you placed a device onto your arm, draining your energy.

“This is your punishment, Jungkook. You’ll never see her again.”

That was the last thing you heard before you blacked out.

——

2016

You barely saw Jungkook again after that. They moved his room into another wing, and held his experiments elsewhere. You were back to 2005, lonely and depressed.

The only times you heard of Jungkook were through overhearing gossips from the workers.

“He caused a ruckus again, asking to see y/n. “

Your heart ached, longing to see him once again as well, and also concerned that he would be punished for being uncooperative.

You started focusing more on following the doctor’s instructions, with the hope that you could rid of your powers quickly so you could be released together with Jungkook. You were starting to see hope, everyday your powers were slightly diminishing and becoming weaker as you focused diligently during your experiments. Although as your powers grew weaker, you noticed you were becoming weaker as well. You’d lost a bit of weight and strength. But that didn’t falter you. You were too determined on losing your powers and escaping the facility.

Every morning, you would wake up to the fading drawing of you and Jungkook together watching the sky, bringing you back to the memory of that cursed night. Nights ended with you daydreaming on what could have been if you guys weren’t separated. You just wished you could have seen him one more time.

You didn’t know that your wish would have came true so soon.

It was 2am at night. You were lying on your bed, staring at the stars you had drawn on your ceiling with the crayons Jungkook gave years back. When someone entered your room quietly.

“Y/n, I have no time to explain. You have to come with me now.”

You looked up, shocked at the familiar voice. Sure enough, it was Jungkook in the flesh. He had an anxious look on his face, as if he was in a rush.

“W-what? How?” You didn’t know how to react after seeing him for the first time in so long. He looked the same from the last time you met him, except he grew buffer and more handsome. You looked at his arms, realising he still had pink stars that looked like the ones you drew around his scars. You assumed that he had traced over the stars when they started to fade so that they would stay intact. You let out a small smile at that.

He grabbed your wrist tightly, dragging you out of your room in a rush as he kept looking around for workers. You were still in a state of shock, unable to say a word as you followed him. When he was sure no one was in the hallway, he dragged you into the janitors room, closing the door.

He turned to you, glossy eyes looking at you as if you were the only thing that mattered in his life.

“I missed you so much.”

“Me too.”

The two of you stood in silence for a few seconds until Jungkook remembered why he came to find you.

“Look, y/n, we have a chance to escape. No, we need to escape. I found out something about the facility here. They have no plans to actually cure us, they can’t. They plan to have us stay here forever, to contain us and weaken us so we can’t escape. They’re afraid of us, y/n. And they can kill us at any time. They couldn’t kill us previously because the government did not allow it with the public watching. But with time passing, I overheard them saying that the public is forgetting and the government gave them the green light to kill us anytime we prove we’re a threat. We need to go, y/n.”

You knew this time it wasn’t a joke. Jungkook had never put on such a serious face before, and you could only nod at whatever he was saying. It was weird, the way you trusted him so easily. But he was the only person in your life who ever truly understood you and supported you. Maybe that was why you agreed to easily to whatever he said.

“W-when do we leave?” Your mind was still confused at how fast things were escalating. A moment ago you were just about to fall asleep, and now you were about to escape from the only place you’ve been in for the past few years of your life.

“Now.”

You followed him quietly as the two of you entered the vent you’d once been in. Memories of that horrible day came into your mind, but you pushed them away. Despite having an inkling that something about his plan could go wrong, you tried ignoring that thought, hoping it would be a success and that the two of you could actually leave together.

The two of you crawled through the vent, going a different route from the previous time. When he stopped abruptly, you stopped as well, waiting for his instructions. Looking down from the vent through the tiny holes, you realised you were above the main entrance of the building, the same entrance you and your mother had walked through the first time you entered.

You held your breath at the memory of that day. You hadn’t seen this door since that day in 2005 since it was always blocked off by guards and lots of protection. You felt heartbeat increase, maybe there really was hope at an escape.

“Ok on my signal you follow me and jump down, alright?” Jungkook turned around to look at you as he whispered. You nodded determinedly in response.

When Jungkook mouthed the word ‘now’ to you, he kicked off an opening on the vent and jumped down onto the floor as you followed along. As you jumped down, you stumbled slightly, but Jungkook caught you, steadying you with his arms.

“Hey! What do you think you’re doing?” The guards, who had been on break took notice of us and ran after us from a few meters away.

“Run!”

Jungkook grabbed your arm tightly, pulling you along with him as the two of you ran for your lives out of the building.

As you ran, you started panicking as all you could see around you were greenery. But then hope came again when you could see a town with people and buildings in the far distance. There was a chance the two of you could make it.

You ran harder, locking hands with Jungkook as you both ran towards the town.

Bang!

The sound of the gunshot resonated through the forest. You didn’t feel any pain. But that made you feel worse. Because you knew it was Jungkook that had been shot.

“Shit…” Jungkook groaned in pain as he grabbed onto his stomach, blood gushing out.

Despite the pain, he didn’t give up, dragging you to a blind spot in the forest behind a tree where no one could see the two of you.

You placed him gently on the floor as tears flowed down your eyes uncontrollably.

“No…no, please…” You muttered as you tried putting pressure on the wound.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay. Go. Go without me.” He said with little energy.

“No! No… I’m not leaving you here.” At this point you could barely see anything, everything blurred from your tears.

“You have to go now y/n… please… I love you so much…” He said with tears.

“Sorry, y/n, I didn’t want to show you my new power this way, but I have no choice.” He said weakly.

You were confused for a moment, until he grabbed onto your arm and said, “You will run as fast as you can to the town there and not look back once. And you will never ever return to this place.”

Instantaneously after his command, your legs stood up without your will and ran towards the town.

“W-wait! Jungkook! I love you! Stop this now! Please! I’m begging you!”

Your words were no use, your legs following Jungkook’s command as you couldn’t even look back to give a final glance at him.

When you reached the town, you broke down on the street immediately, wanting to run back to help him, but you physically couldn’t.

2018

Healing was hard. Especially without Jungkook. But eventually you moved on, like you always do. After escaping, you found a small job as a cashier at a convenience store, becoming close friends with the old grandma who owned the store. Your income was not a lot, but it was enough for three meals a day and rent for a small apartment. You went on that way for about 2 years, until realising you were too lonely and needed a new companion. And so you adopted an 8 year old golden retriever who had previously been used for animal testing. The moment you saw the scars on his frail little body, you broke down and sobbed at the adoption drive in front of dozens of people. You knew at that moment that he was yours. You named him Jeon Bibi.

—

13 June, 2020

“Jeon Bibi! The park is this way, where are you bringing me to?” You chuckled at your dog’s cute behaviour as he excitedly dragged you away to the opposite direction of the park you usually walked to.

“Ok, ok you’re the boss, i’ll follow you.” You smile affectionally at him as you trail behind him, curious to find out where he was bringing you to.

When Bibi came to an abrupt stop, you realised that he stopped behind the tall silhouette of a man’s back. You looked up curiously at the man, wondering why Bibi brought you to him. The man whipped around when he felt Bibi sniffing his hands.

You felt your breath hitch as the familiar man turned around, staring deeply into your eyes. For a moment, time stopped. Your eyes turned glossy as years of memories flashed passed your mind in an instant, the walls you’ve built around your heart demolishing in a split second. Your eyes trailed from his slightly longer, curlier black hair down to his large brown doe eyes, and to his pink lips, adorning a new lip piercing. You brought your eyes down to his body, noticing he became even buffer and taller. Then your eyes reached his arms and you felt your heart stop, looking at the scars that you once rubbed, kissed, newly decorated by familiar stars that were now permanently inked onto his skin.

He seemed equally shocked as he stared at you, tears brimming his widened eyes.

You both didn’t move an inch, staring into each other’s eyes. You were the first to break the silence.

“I thought you said my stars were ugly.”

He broke into laughter amidst his tears at the fact that that was your first comment after meeting him. You could feel your heart squeeze at his laughter. God, you missed him so, so much. You found yourself laughing along to his contagious laughter. For a moment, it felt like the two of you were 10 again, laughing without any worries.

“Y/n, everything about you is beautiful, even your ugly stars.” He ceased his laughter, small smile on his face as he looked at you intensely, years of memories hidden behind those eyes.

He paused for a second, hesitating before confessing.

“Y/n, I love yo-“

Before he could finish, you cut him off by taking a step closer to him and smashing your lips against his. He instantly melted into the kiss, grabbing you tightly, scared you would be separated again. You hugged him back tighter, reassuring him that the two of you would stay together forever.

After all, he was your star, your salvation, the one who made you love your scars, the one taught you acceptance and love, the one who made living worth it.

A/N: I LOVE THIS STORY SO MUCH😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭Ifeel so attached to them i cant do this rn i’m so sad. if u don’t understand the last part basically he REMEMBERED THE SHAPE OF HER STARS AND GOT A TATTOO OF THEM EVEN THOUGH HE HATES NEEDLES OK 😭😭😭😭ok but actually this piece was a bit of a rush since i wanted to quickly post it before my great war so it may be a bit incomplete at parts ANYWAYS PRAY FOR MY GREAT TICKETING WAR TMR🙏🙏THANKS LOVELIES FOR READING and do give comments if u can because i love reading feedback <3

#jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x reader #jjk x reader #jjk one shot #jungkook one shot #jungkook fluff #jungkook angst #bts x reader #bts fluff #bts fics #jungkook fics #bts angst #jungkook au #bts hospital au #bts powers au #bts friends to lovers #bts childhood friends au

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