#clubzerooclock

[bangguks]

UGH! 😮‍💨

[hisunshiine]

—revelations under the moon

🌙 pairing: alpha!namjoon x omega!reader 🌙 au/genre: ABO au, fated mates au, angst, smut 🌙 series rating: M 🌙 wc: 9,468 🌙 series warnings: mentions of an off-screen character death (barely a character tbh), brief male masturbation, thoughts of 'cheating' (if they aren't true mates though..is it?), cursing, retelling of a fake historical fable that includes VERY brief mentions of murder and suicide as the consequence of a tragic hero's hubris explicit sexual content: biting, marking, knotting, semi-rough sex, unprotected sex, creampie, aftercare 🌙 an: wow, i did not think i would get this out in time, january was a rough month for me, but my grandpa just finished his last lung cancer treatment last week, and im trying to just balance all the stress of real life, but yeah, i think it's getting better. thank you to my beta readers, @downbad4yoongi @moonleeai and @peachiilovesot7 i appreciate all your help, whether you helped in december or in february, it is much appreciated, as always. you're the best hype squad. this is also my first ABO story, so if you hate it don't tell me. LOL 🌙 summary: "When crescent rises, we shall rise as one, Aligned with moonrise, our time has begun." Alpha-heir Namjoon and his long time sweetheart are thought to be the next pair to rule Highscrest, but when Duskfall is attacked, the heir makes a decision that changes the course of not only his and his girlfriend's destiny, but yours as well.

This story is part of the "New Year, New Me Love" @bangtanwritershq gift exchange, written for the lovely @colormepurplex2! Happy Valentine's Day!

🌒🌒🌒 Tuesday - Waxing Gibbous

The loud chatter of the crowd irritates you; your senses are on overdrive after the past two weeks you’ve had. Packing and moving everything you own across the river during the New Moon was unexpected—almost as unexpected of it being a result of a peace treaty signed by the Beta of your old pack after the death of Alpha Tyvrin. 

A Beta jostles you in an attempt to move closer to the raised platform at the far end of the civic center, and you shoot him a quick glare before turning your attention back to the men on stage to avoid any drama. An Omega glaring at a Beta isn’t as bad as if it was an Alpha, but insubordinate enough still. The new tribe members do not know your previous role in Duskfall and have every right to challenge any hierarchical disrespect.

“Quiet, please,” a voice rumbles quietly, but everyone in the room follows the directive. You recognize the Alpha Father, or the father of the Alpha-Heir and most recent Pack Alpha of Highcrest, at the podium. Your irritation drops as your senses can finally focus now that the room is silent. The smells of so many new pack members still suffocates your olfactory system, but it’s bearable now. One scent seems to overpower the rest, a clean forestry smell that seems to dilute the others. “Good evening, and thank you all for coming tonight. We hope you all have been acclimating to the changes these past few weeks. If you have any concerns, please reach out to any of us here.” 

The Alpha Father waves over his son, stepping aside to let him take the lead of the rest of the meeting. Your eyes drink in the lithe movements highlighted by the fit of his suit. “Thank you, Alpha Father. For those of you who are joining us from Duskfall, at the time of the New Moon three months prior, I began the ascension steps. Right before your arrival, I had just finished the last of the three trials. All that remains is the bonding.”

You look around the room to see if anyone else is having the same reaction to his voice as you are—the crowd is transfixed; all attention is on the Alpha Heir Kim Namjoon. He’s young, almost thirty, but commands the stage. It’s not just because he’s handsome, though the blue suit and his dark brown hair help. His aura oozes from afar, your inner wolf screaming at you that this is a man you would follow and it’s your turn to receive a dirty look as you bump into the person in front of you. You turn back to the stage, ears attuning to his baritone as he continues.

“—final ceremony will take place in three days, and as you all know, I will be selecting my mate. I know that there are many newcomers who may be wary of joining the pack with all of these changes happening so soon, but please have faith in us. Highcrest will protect you all, and we will be at full strength as soon as the full moon rises in a week.”

Some applause breaks out, and his confidence soothes the wolf inside you that worries about this treaty. Highcrest sits on the eastern side of the Twin Rivers split, atop the range that leads to Twin Falls. Your previous pack, Duskfall, was integrated into Highcrest two weeks ago after Shadowhide attacked and killed Alpha Tyvrin under the cover of the New Moon, in a successful attempt at taking the land between the two streams. 

The fertile soil and access to the freshwater source has been a source of contention between Duskfall and Shadowhide for decades, and while a group consisting of the Alpha, Beta and his best warriors patrolled your western border, Shadowhide attacked. The Beta and a few others escaped by the grace of the moon, which gave the pack enough warning to prepare and kept Shadowhide at bay now that the act of surprise was gone. With the Alpha slain and the clock ticking before Shadowhide invaded, the Beta had no choice but to reach out to Highcrest for help. A peace treaty was signed, allowing all pack members of Duskfall to join Highcrest in exchange for their commitment to the pack. Any members who were against the treaty were allowed to leave of their own volition and go back to the main city, or find a pack of their choosing, but with the danger of Shadowhide’s takeover imminent, everyone agreed to travel east across the river and up the mountain range to the safety of Highcrest.

“Thank you to all of Duskfall’s former pack for all of your patience with us as we’ve worked to create a space for all of you here in Highcrest. After the ceremony, which is open to all unmated Omegas, everyone from Duskfall will officially be of Highcrest, and those who have not yet finished their commitment rites can do so at that time.”

You watch as Kim Namjoon waves over a tall, slender woman with sleek hair falling down her back. She is the picture of elegance, her walk stalking forward in a hypnotic fashion as she steps beside the Alpha-Heir and speaks to the crowd. You recognize her from the Apothecary you’ve been training in ever since you’ve settled into your new life here.  

“Good evening, everyone. I’m Min Everlight, an Omega of pack Highcrest. I am the head healer for the pack, and if Alpha Namjoon is ever unavailable, please come see me down at the Apothecary. I’ll help in whatever capacity I can in his absence.” Her hand moves almost subconsciously towards his, and they intertwine fingers. “We have committed our lives to this pack, and all of us up here will do our best to provide for Highcrest. Please stop by the apothecary this week if you haven’t yet received the Aconite to remove your Duskfall markings in preparation for your Highcrest one.”

Everlight stays linked to Namjoon as he takes a slight step forward to end the meeting.

“When the crescent rises,” he begins, and the people around you intone their response. 

“We, too, shall rise.”

Walking under the waxing gibbous, you and your Beta roommate, Sana, wave goodbye to one of your elderly neighbors. You’ve been checking on all of the members of your old pack, helping them in any way you can to get them acclimated after work. You go home tired every night, but you want to make sure this merger works.

Sana skips ahead as your new home comes into sight, singing the Alpha-Heir’s praises. “He’s so brilliant, I promise you this is the best thing that could’ve happened to us. And Min Everlight? She’s amazing, right? You’ve been working under her these past couple of weeks, isn’t she effervescent?”

You laugh at her excitement, answering her vaguely as you unlock the door to your shared home. “She knows her stuff, that’s for sure. I’ve learned a few new things already since we’ve been here, but most of it I already knew.” Sana dreamily wanders to her bedroom, ignoring your slight diss and chattering mostly to herself about how wonderful tribe Highcrest is. You plop onto the couch unceremoniously, thoughts on Min Everlight. 

Everlight is effervescent, with an inner glow that makes her the perfect Omega as mate for the Alpha-Heir. You’ve heard from the other women at the Apothecary that she and Namjoon have been dating for years. Longtime sweethearts and—if their little show on stage meant anything—his choice for his mate. This thought makes you feel sick, because ever since you walked away from Duskfall and followed him to Highcrest, your heart has thrummed for him. 

Taking a deep breath that you let out with a sigh, you change your line of thinking before you venture towards a vitriol hatred of your soon-to-be female leader. Min Everlight has been nothing but motherly and nurturing to all of you since your arrival, but the more you see her all over the Alpha-Heir, the harder it is to like her. Not just because of her romantic relationship with Namjoon, either, but that she represents everything that you almost were, and reminds you of everything you lost.  

You scratch at your upper arm over your shirtsleeve, where the Aconite serum you rubbed on earlier dissolves your Duskfall tattoo in preparation for your Highcrest one. The Aconite is diluted and mixed with other herbs to prevent poisoning that would weaken you before the ceremony. Sana disappears into the shared bathroom to shower, and you close your eyes for a moment not meaning to fall asleep as you wait for your turn.

The moon goddess blesses you with dreams of Duskfall past, memories of your destined path as the tribe’s Luna-to-be—the Omega paired to the now fallen Alpha Tyvrin—and you wake to the reality that all you have trained for was for naught.  

🌓🌓🌓 Wednesday - Waxing Gibbous

Or, more like you wake with the sudden slam of a door, sitting upright as you squint to keep back the sunlight. 

“Damn, you slept on the couch?” Sana questions, looking cheery and well-rested.

You clear your throat to answer. “Yeah, I guess so. What time is it?”

Sana glances at her watch. “Um, it’s half past eight.”

“Shit, I overslept, and I’m supposed to meet with Everlight again today.” You stand abruptly, and begin organizing all of the large pillows on the couch, laying the blanket just so until you hear Sana laughing at you. You look up at her with a glare. “What?”

“I think you might be in pre-heat. You’ve fluffed that pillow at least three times, and that blanket cannot be folded over the back of the couch any more perfectly unless you’ve got a protractor in the cabinet.”

“There’s no way, it hasn’t been enough time since the last one.” You ignore her as you clamber back onto the couch, tucking your legs up under you seemingly forgetting your plans for the day.

“Your heat is probably gearing up because of some Alpha at the meeting last night. With Tyvrin gone, rest in moonlight, you’re no longer taking the suppressants are you? With everything that’s happened, it makes sense that you’d forget,” she theorizes, “and apparently Highcrest doesn’t have that practice here.”

You can’t believe you’ve forgotten. In Duskfall, you were chosen by Alpha Tyvrin to be his mate, and asked to take suppressants until the ceremony. This was to help to prevent you from having a heat, decreasing your pheromones from triggering any non-bonded Alpha’s into their ruts and endangering you. These past few weeks since the move, you haven’t been taking any suppressants, and you’re sure by now it's run its course and is out of your system.  

“They don’t practice that here?”

“No, weren’t you listening at the meeting? The Alpha-Heir doesn’t choose his mate the same way like in Duskfall. Highcrest has a different ceremony. All unmated Omega’s can be part of it.”

“But isn’t Everlight most likely going to be chosen anyways?”

“I hear there’s blindfolds involved, so maybe instead of sulking, and filling the apartment with your sour scent, you can just join the ceremony and give it a try.”

The news fills your chest with what feels like sunbeams, and you smile at the Beta as you relax into what you’re now realizing is a nest.

“Ah, the room smells so much nicer now. Also—you’re late.”

🌓🌓🌓 Wednesday - Waxing Gibbous

Kim Namjoon sits patiently outside the Apothecary, waiting for Everlight to finish for the day. He can sense her inside, her scent a fresh scent of clean linen, just brought down off of the line after soaking in the sun. It’s always been the strongest scent to him, out of all of the women in Highcrest, and he’s sure that the Moon Goddess will prove her to be his mate this weekend when he ascends to his Alpha status. 

Fingers drumming along his clothed knee, he hums to himself as he watches the sunrays filtering through the trees as it sets. The small bell above the door chimes as small groups of girls and women of all ages trickle out from the shop—Everlight hosted a gathering after work for all of the newcomers to review the Highcrest ceremony procedures for women, and they all bow respectfully when they catch sight of him seated in the chair near the door. 

Namjoon can’t help but wonder what else they were working on today, his nose itches to investigate whatever new tonic or serum she’s put together this time—the smell is amazing. Like a warm honey coating his tongue, hints of bourbon with small bursts of brown sugar peaking his interest. He hopes it’s not something inedible, like the Aconite serum, and his curiosity getting the better of him, he stands, unbuttoning his suit jacket and moving to peer through the small glass windows framed in the center of the door. 

Ah, he thinks as he takes in one of the new pack members, Everlight must have let one of the Duskfall women teach a new tonic. Namjoon recognizes you through the dusty glass standing in front of the group, and remembers that his Beta, Seokjin, had pointed you out from afar when you first arrived.

🌑Two Weeks Ago 🌑 Monday - New Moon

“That’s Alpha Tyvrin’s mate, er—was his mate. They hadn’t actually had the ceremony yet, the attack happened before the full moon ceremony could happen, but she was set to be Duskfall’s Luna.” Seokjin’s finger points down the lane from the window of City Hall, connecting to a woman walking towards the villager housing area. Namjoon eyes you warily before posing a series of questions to his Beta.

“Will it be an issue to have two mature Luna’s in a pack? Should we offer to place her with another pack to mate with an Alpha?”

“I don’t know…I haven’t ever heard of something like this happening. Typically the Alpha has already mated the Luna, and since one cannot live without the other—”

“I see.” Namjoon understands why the Moon Goddess would create such a fate for paired leaders. “Had the ceremony already happened, she would be buried next to him. It could be a help, now that we have so many more people, to have two strong healers in the pack. Maybe she could travel on patrols in case of an attack?” He wonders how Everlight would react to finding out that there’s another Luna-trained Omega in the pack, and if this would be a way to spin it to lessen any blowback. 

Seokjin looks thoughtful, eyebrows lifted as he tilts his head and gathers his words carefully. “That could be a good option for the second Luna, so that their training and skills do not go to waste, especially now that our pack has grown…It could also be worth mentioning—with so many new members, it would be a good show of faith if you were to perhaps choose the Duskfall Luna as your mate—”

Namjoon’s growl silences Seokjin momentarily but he presses on when he sees no claws being barred. 

“I’m just saying, nothing helps unite two packs better than having one of their own integrated into the upper levels of the hierarchy. If we want to keep peace and help Duskfall feel loyalty to Highcrest, taking their to-be-Luna as your mate would be the smart move. You and Everlight aren’t fated, so it’s not like our pack would frown upon it under the circumstances—”

Namjoon’s eyes cut like daggers as he stares his Beta down, almost dragon-like in ferocity as he contains his inner beast. “Everlight is my mate, Seokjin. I would never betray her like that.” 

🌓🌓🌓 Wednesday (present) - Waxing Gibbous

Looking at you now, Namjoon is glad to see that you and Everlight seem to have no issues working alongside each other. After reading through previous Alphas’ historical notes and reviewing the history of the packs of the Twin Rivers Valley, he decided that it would be best to keep you around, as he worries his newest constituents would revolt if they thought he had banished you from Highcrest. He spent the first couple of weeks talking to other elder members of Duskfall, and learned that a lot of the pack had come to rely on you as they became acclimated, that you had been going around to visit with them and check-in, and keep them all calm with the changes happening. 

He appreciated that you had taken this on as a duty, especially when you were dealing with the biggest blow of all. Namjoon meant to meet with you to thank you, but the longer he took, the more it felt fake, rehearsed, and like an afterthought instead of what it really was: an Alpha-Heir not yet familiar with his role, and learning about you from afar made him feel like a weird stalker of sorts that he had all this knowledge of you and your skills from others.  

Your skills would be most useful to their pack, and though you were meant to lead the pack by an Alpha’s side, you could still maintain some modicum of that role, just as the second to Everlight. Namjoon is sure this plan will work. He plans to have a meeting with Seokjin and Everlight tonight, that way he can make sure that they will follow his plan without any issues. 

He knows he could just order everyone to follow along, but using his Alpha to force others to do what he wants doesn’t always work out in the long run. The history of the tribal lands and the fact that there were three distinct tribes from the original one, up until Tyvrin’s death, is proof of that. 

It’s much better for a leader to have the consenting loyalty of his pack, instead of forced fealty that brews contempt and derision. Namjoon steps back from the door to allow another person to exit, and once again, the honeyed bourbon seeps through the opening. It’s much stronger this time, urging him to his feet almost against his will. 

He feels his blood thrumming, pounding through his veins like a rushing river. Namjoon checks his forehead, as if feverish, and notices his hand comes back with a sheen of sweat. It’s like he’s gone into pre-rut, which would be crazy. He’s pretty regular when it comes to his ruts lining up with Everlight’s heats, and she’s still not due for a little bit…

Namjoon stumbles backward, taking the three steps back to solid ground quickly as he tugs at the collar of his buttoned shirt. He’s too hot, it’s all too much, he has to do something, move, but he’s in the middle of the town, there are people who look to him to be more restrained than this standing all around…Namjoon trips a little on the gravel beneath his feet as he takes off back towards City Hall and away from Everlight, afraid that if she is due for her heat and his pre-rut was triggered by that, he would mount her right there in front of the last few people in the store and fuck her hard against the counter, not caring if everyone saw the powerful way he drove his cock in and out of her until he filled her with cum and knotted her.

He’s locked himself in his office, blinds closed with his fist wrapped around his thick length as he imagines it: his hands firm on the plump rounds of ass, spreading the cheeks apart as he spits between them, Omega slick lathering his cock with every stroke and the tight walls sucking him back in with every pump out, and when he cums—copious amounts leaking around his large hand—it’s only then that he realizes that it wasn’t the clean linen-scented Everlight he was imagining taking his knot.

🌔🌔🌔 Thursday - Waxing Gibbous

You’re irritated—more so than you’ve been since your entire life was turned upside down two weeks ago. The Beta that’s always around the Alpha, Seokjin, randomly showed up at your place in the morning saying you were tasked to go on a supply run to the nearest city. It makes sense—Seokjin explained that the Alpha had handpicked everyone in the group to help new pack members meet others and start to learn their ways, and you appreciate it, except for the fact that you don’t want to be far from home right now. 

In fact, because of the upcoming ceremony, Everlight had let all of the women training in the apothecary have the next few days off, as she expected to be chosen and wanted to prepare herself and her home for what was to come. You had mixed feelings when she initially announced this to everyone, because while you enjoy the respite from the constant go-go-go of changes around you, the reason behind it left you feeling miffed. 

All of yesterday, you spent time working at the Apothecary and were even asked by some of the others to show them some tonics and potions that they had never heard of, and while you enjoy teaching others, it’s quite draining to go through the motions while talking through every step you make, and why. The girls quietly scribbled down your words in their notebooks, committing your teachings to paper, which made you feel good about yourself, until reality hit about your future. 

It almost didn’t feel fair that you were so new to the pack and already others were looking to you to train and teach them new things, meanwhile another person is slated to take the position you’ve wanted and trained for your whole life. 

Shaking away your thoughts, you tap back into the moment, finally having arrived in the bustling city a little past mid-day. You hate all of the smells; the odor rising from the sewer grates and scents from the people who jostle you as they rudely push past your group. You hold back the urge to plug your nose, sighing out a weighted exhale as you follow Seokjin through the automatic sliding doors and into a grocer’s market. 

🌔🌔🌔 Thursday - Waxing Gibbous

Back in the forest, a half day’s trip from the city, Kim Namjoon spends his time in his office again, hiding out from his duties by disguising them as last minute studying and planning for the ceremony. 

He couldn’t bring himself to meet with Everlight the previous night, instead calling Seokjin only to discuss the plans for the supply run. He looked over the list of items Everlight needed in the apothecary, and only because the winter months were starting to fade away into spring meant this would be the last expensive trip until winter came again. 

Bees do not make honey in the winter, so why can’t he explain away the coincidence of the honey bourbon smell and the note written in Everlight’s scrawl next to the requested item underlined twice: Honey — we’ve been out for ages!! He doesn’t want to believe that he could be feeling this way for someone other than Everlight, but of two things he knows for sure: he smelled honey, and Everlight is distinctly NOT a honey smell. 

Seeing that on the list had Namjoon rise with a wild idea, to send the other Luna far, far away for the day, to help him clear his mind. In reality, he paces his office, wearing thin the once plush carpet with his worried steps until he can’t take it anymore. Crossing the room, he walks with such a force that no one dares to question where he’s off to. 

He knows where you live, knows that your Beta roommate Sana should be home, and when he knocks on the door with authority, he expects Sana to fling the door open so hastily that the movement sends the mixed scents of the apartment wafting out at him. Instantly, he expects his spine to straighten as his whole body is overwhelmed by the truth—except that never comes. No one is home, as a kind older woman politely points out to him after his third attempt at knocking. 

“Those girls went into town today, it seemed like the Luna had to drag Sana along with her,” she chuckled, clearly a pack member who was fond of the two women. “Did you want me to tell them you stopped by?”

“No! I mean—no need to worry them about my visit, I can talk to them tomorrow, thank you.”

He swiftly departs, deciding to just head home instead of back to the office for some peace.

“Joonie!”

Barely having set foot in his residence, Namjoon is bombarded with the irritating scent of laundry detergent. It’s too pungent; overwhelming in a way that he’s never experienced before. He catches himself before his nose wrinkles and Everlight ascends into his arms. He hugs her back, planting a soft kiss to the side of her head in an endearing manner before she pulls him into the dining room for an early dinner with his parents. 

Namjoon spends the evening engaged in conversation with his parents and Everlight, avoiding talks of the ceremony as best he can—despite his mother and girlfriend's best attempts. His dad eyes him warily—in that cunning way that only another Alpha can—sensing the change in the dynamics within the room. Namjoon is grateful his father remains quiet, simply watching the conversation over the nightcap of barrel-aged Cabernet Sauvignon from their cellar.

Once they call it a night and his parents disappear to their room, Everlight begs Namjoon to stay over, and unable to say no to the woman he’s never said no to before, he relents. He regrets this decision almost immediately, as his hopes that Everlight would help him take his mind off of the one thing that’s been at the forefront of it are crushed.   

“She’s just really good at healing. She knows a lot, like I can’t believe I’m even admitting it, but she knows things that I don’t. And the things I have been able to teach her, she learns it so quickly and easily. I’m actually kind of jealous.”

Namjoon can tell; Everlight’s face is scrunched up in a way that makes her look unattractive, and he doesn’t know what to do or to say to make her feel less insecure. 

“Maybe it’s a good thing she is joining our pack. It’s important to learn and grow continuously.” It’s as diplomatic as he can be at the moment.

“Yes, but she’s trained as a Luna, just like me. It’s a little like she’s trying to take my spot. Yesterday, while I was teaching, the other girls asked her to teach them something I didn’t know, and I just had to stand there and let her take over my lesson. The girls were so focused on her and taking notes, it made me kind of hate her.”

She’s looking at him, her eyes trying to find something within his, but he looks away, reaching for the light next to his bed.

Everlight reaches for him, aligning her body to his as her fingers grip his shoulders so she can position herself atop him.

“That’s why I can’t wait for the ceremony, baby. We can finally be a true, mated pair. Start our forever, with me as your Luna. No room for confusion from the pack about who will bear your pups.” Her eyebrows waggle up and down suggestively as she lowers her lips to his plump ones. “We can practice now if you want, you can scent me, let all the bitches in heat know to back off.” She kisses him again. 

Namjoon kisses her back, but her laundry odor fills his nasal cavity and her words are so off-putting for the role she hopes to take on for the pack. He can feel her hands travel down his ribcage, but nothing about her touch turns him on. Pulling away from the kiss, he catches his breath as he readies his excuse.

“Babe, I think we should wait,” his large hands hold her shoulders firmly before his touch grows softer, palms smoothing up and down her arms in a soothing motion. “The ceremony is so soon, and I want it to be sacred…I know that might sound cheesy and un-Alpha-like but—”

“No, you’re right.” Everlight smiles softly at him, but he can see the hurt in her eyes at being rejected. “I’m just feeling overwhelmed with all of the new pack members and the changes happening, I think I got a little over excited.”

“I love that about you, you know? You’re excitement over things, and how you want to be the best version of yourself for our pack. You’re already an amazing Luna in your own right.”

Everlight excuses herself to the bathroom, and Namjoon clambers off his bed, bare feet leading him towards his cracked bedroom window. In the light of the almost full moon, he can now see the noises that drew his attention moments ago: returning members of his pack walking down the path to their homes. 

There’s no mistaking it now. A warmth blooms from his groin, spreading higher until his neck grows hot from it as his nose and mouth feel thick with the sweetest bourbon honey scent. With you unaware of his gaze as you laugh with Seokjin and Sana, he feels jealousy boiling into his chest.

“Mine.”

🌕🌕🌕 Friday - Full Moon

You wake up late on Friday morning, your body a little stiff and sore. You feel as if you slept with a heater on, sleep clothes clinging to your body due to the sweat that covers your skin. You try to shake it off, but the feeling doesn’t go away, even after a cold shower.

You’re not surprised you woke up mid afternoon after arriving back at Highcrest near midnight, but you suppose the excitement of what’s to come will keep you awake the rest of the evening. You have to meet the elders for the pre-ceremony rituals at the start of moonrise, so you eat a light snack in the hopes it won’t trouble your stomach too much. 

You know now that Sana is right. Your heat will kick in no later than tomorrow afternoon, with the confirmation of the night sweating and soreness symptoms appearing today, but you worry about what it will mean if you end up not being chosen…you’ll begin cramping and sink into Omega-space, leaving you vulnerable to other higher ranking pack members without a plan prepared to get you through your heat.

At quarter till six, you leave your home with a small bag of items and head to city hall, where Elder Aline waits for you and the other Omegas who planned to join the ceremony to arrive. Elder Aline was old—she worked closely with the Luna three times removed was in power, and lived to prepare both of her successors, and now would be helping to prepare this ceremony. 

You hug your bag to your chest as the last of the group arrives: Everlight. She only looks slightly surprised to see you in the group of seven Omega’s, but she fixes her facial features quickly and offers you a bright smile. 

“I didn’t expect to see you in the group!” Everlight’s tone is friendly enough, but the undercurrent of her words screams out territorial.

“Oh, yeah, my roommate said I should come as an unmated Omega to take part in the ceremony. It’s different from our previous pack’s tradition, and if I hope to carry out my duties and help with future ceremonies, the best way to learn is to be part of it, right?”

Your answer makes sense, perfectly curated to help push away any questions that dig too deep into your motivations, including yourself. Part of you knew that it would be beneficial to you if the worst comes to fruition, but the other part, the more primitive part, knows the real reason is because the wolf inside of you longs for your mate to be Kim Namjoon.  

Elder Aline calls for your attention, her weathered voice a calming stillwater that acts as a soothing balm to the nervous energy in your chest. She speaks to the group, sharing some information about how the rest of the night will play out before she leads your small group towards the outskirts of Highcrest, to the south of a small lake on the edge of the forest. The walk takes a bit of time to navigate the terrain, especially with an Elder leading. 

You allow her moments to pause and rest, clearly fatigued from traipsing through high grasses and uneven dirt, but soon enough you are there, and placed along the treeline, a small clearing awaits you. She makes quick work of explaining the first ritual’s steps, and you allow her voice to lead you through the routine. 

The cleansing ritual itself takes the better part of an hour, as everyone planning to participate strips down to enter the water under the light of the moon which now grazes the top of the trees. A small pouch filled with herbs and petals is handed to each of you to rid you of any lingering outside scents. You lather your skin, taking the time to clean every inch before stepping out to air dry. It’s colder than you expected, but no one wants to risk masking their scent for the ceremony. 

The elder had laid a simple white dress on the shore of the lake near your bag, and once dry, you sheathed your body with it, happy for the fabric to provide some warmth. She pulls a thermos from her bag along with small cups.

“Purified under the new moon,” she intones, handing you a steaming cup of tea. “Red azaleas, to pull out your emotions and attract your true mate.”

You sip it slowly, letting the heat warm your hands. The other women join you after the elder gives them each a cup, and you huddle in a circle, trying to stay warm.

“I think it’s good that we have so many of us for the ceremony,” Everlight speaks, her voice light and airy. “It would be a boring ceremony if I was here by myself.”

Her words were clearly chosen carefully, meant to sound like a compliment to the others for their company, while laying claim to the role not yet given to her by the moon. You bristle, feeling your body heat up. Her comments were starting to annoy you, because a true Luna was not insecure or haughty. She was a healer, a person that others could go to when they needed strength, compassion, or empathy. Everlight seemed to have forgotten this. 

“I think it is great that Highcrest’s tradition is different from ours, it feels more…pure.” You don’t know how else to describe it, but the act of having the alpha choose his mate through this ceremony feels like how it used to be. The elder hears you and her words confirm this. 

“This is the true ceremony. But come now, it is about time for us to begin.”

She leads you around to the north side of the lake. A small copse of trees had blocked the incoming sight, and now that you were closer, you could see the small gathering of pack members standing in a crescent.  

Directing you to step into the open space, she takes your cups from each of you as the seven of you line up with ample space between each other. You look around nervously. The cold you felt earlier when you were wet and naked exiting the lake was gone; you notice that you feel hot. You’ve felt hot since drinking the tea.

The crowd murmurs quietly to one another as you look around for Sana, finally finding her to the right near the top point of the moon shape they were standing in. She waves at you, a smile breaking across her face as she takes you in. 

All at once the noise in the forest dies out. The muttering follows suit, and Elder Aline steps before the crowd. 

“Before the great divide of the tribal lands, the Alpha’s mate was never set in stone until the ceremony was completed. Even if the Alpha had taken many lovers as a young pup, it matters not, for what the moon reveals is the truth. And an Alpha dare not disobey the moon, lest the pack fall weak.”

She then begins her tale of the history of the original tribe they descended from. 

“Many, many moons ago, we once existed as a proud and noble pack led by an Alpha of unmatched strength and wisdom named Lycaon. Under his reign, our pack thrived, united as one for the good of the group. We honored the ancient laws dictated by the phases of the moon, for we knew the moon's power was both a gift and a curse. Before the divide, we could shapeshift along with the phases of the moon.

But Lycaon, with his pride swelling within him like a thunderous storm cloud, began to question the moon's choice for his fated mate. He refused his fated Omega, instead choosing who he wanted, and not who our celestial goddess knew our pack needed. Ignoring the warnings of his most trusted Betas, Lycaon decided that his unborn son would also choose his own mate, not the moon.

At first, this defiance seemed to have no negative impact. But before long, cracks began to appear between pack members. By refusing the moon's guidance, the pack ended up with an Alpha-chosen Luna who was not prepared for her role. The rejected Luna fell melancholy, and took her own life, saying she could not watch the ruin of her pack. Some wolves found themselves unable to control their shifting, and began to attack their own kin in fits of madness. Other pack members grew weak—their bodies unable to withstand the impact of their dual nature.”

The entire crowd was enraptured hearing the tale, as Duskfall members did not know the history, and you are among them in learning the true history of the divide.

“As chaos descended upon our once-proud pack, Lycaon's authority waned as the full moon wanes. Desperate to maintain his grip on the pack, he resorted to ruling the pack with fear instead of respect. But his efforts only fueled the flames of discord, and soon, the pack was torn asunder by fights and betrayal.

In the aftermath of our pack's collapse, three new packs rose from the one, each led by a different wolf claiming to be the one true Alpha. They fought for the lands we stand upon today, with Lycaon’s son, Claudin, taking the hills to found Highcrest, and the other two packs fighting over the lower grounds.  Claudin knew that in order to reclaim the strength and glory we had lost, he must not allow pride or the greed for power seduce him into betraying the moon.”

A low murmur swept through the crowd. You knew your former packmates had the same thoughts running through their mind as you did—could this really be true? Was Alpha Tyvrin’s downfall predestined to happen in order to reunite the original pack? Elder Aline coughs, and you focus back on her.

“And so, this tale of Alpha Lycaon and our pack serves as a tale of caution for generations, a reminder of the dangers of hubris and the importance of respecting the ancient laws that govern our kind. Alpha Claudin rectified the treachery his father had done unto the moon, but we shall never shift again as punishment.”

A quiet settles upon the crowd, and the elder gestures to a group of children you didn’t notice before. They step towards each of you, and she asks you all to kneel. The small child before you has a face like a cherub, full cheeks pulled tight as he shows his teeth to you, eyes disappearing in his delight. 

He bequeaths a length of dark fabric, and his hands move so as to wrap the ends around your face, deftly knotting it behind your head. When you feel him step away, you stand back to full height. Your other senses are heightened, anxiety blossoming at what comes next. You hear footsteps, and sounds of awe and admiration sweep across the crowd stealing your nerves. You freeze in anticipation. 

“Alpha Namjoon has done what we once thought impossible, uniting two tribes where whence was three, and we must continue to follow the moon’s guidance. We must not deceive ourselves. The moon will not lead us wrong. It will not lead him wrong.”

Seconds tick by as you wait, eyes furiously trying to see through the thick material stealing your sight. Seconds turn into minutes and you can hear the faint rustling of bare feet traveling across the grass, the weighted foot falls accompanied by heavy inhales of the still air surrounding the area. You know the Alpha has entered the clearing—can feel a palpable shift in the energy as your body grows hotter by the second. His scent sings to you, and you whine lowly, wanting to follow it.

Again, the crowd responds to something unseen by you, this time it has your inner wolf crouching, tail down and ears back—showing submission. Another whine escapes you, a little louder this time. Your distress must be filling the area around you, you can sense the crowd’s movement, reacting to your scent. You begin to panic, fearing that a distressed scent would push the Alpha to choose another, not the scared, submissive and pathetically whining bitch in heat—

🌕🌕🌕 Friday - Full Moon 

Namjoon walks up to the clearing surrounded by his closest advisors, some of whom had been absent patrolling the borders and securing their land the past several weeks, and returned in time for the ceremony. As he approaches, the sounds in the forest quickly fade, as if sensing his arrival.

He waits for his signal to enter the clearing, far enough away that he can only smell the crowd of his pack members standing between him and the clearing where the Omegas will stand. Namjoon spent all day in the forest, away from town preparing for the ritual by hunting for game to be used for the meal to feed his mate before the knotting. He also had to follow the same cleansing tradition, bathing under the light of the full moon, drinking the purified new moon tea, and dressing in loose, white linen pants.

He tried his best to clear his mind from the events of the previous evening, and once he was away from the bustle of the town square, he found it easier to convince himself it was just a fluke. After years of being with Everlight, the idea of being fully committed must have made him feel a bit scared, so he latched onto the idea of something new, someone different…you. 

Now, after his mindful afternoon in the forest, he knows he just has to trust the moon will lead him to Everlight, his mate. He knows her scent, knows it like he knows the taste of his mom’s cooking or the sound of his father’s favorite whiskey bottle opening.

As the moon climbs higher, he waits, steadily listening as the crowd quiets and Elder Aline speaks, recounting the tale of the original tribe. As she gets close to finishing her tale, Namjoon is tapped on the shoulder by Beta Taehyung, who motions to the blindfold in his hand. 

“It’s time, Alpha.”

Namjoon nods, taking the blindfold from the younger male and covering his dragon-shaped orbs. He fastens the knot, and he senses when another one of his trusted Betas approaches him. 

“I have the pouch here. Make sure to smell it deeply before—” 

Beta Jungkook is interrupted by Namjoon. “I know, I know. Smell it deeply before I let my inner wolf out to track my mate.” He lifts an open palm so Jungkook can place the small, organza fabric reticule into his hand.

When he hears his name, he knows that’s his signal. He follows the sound of the elder’s voice to enter the clearing.

“Alpha Namjoon has done what we once thought impossible, uniting two tribes where whence was three, and we must continue to follow the moon’s guidance. We must not deceive ourselves. The moon will not lead us wrong. It will not lead him wrong.” 

Raising the small sack to clear his olfactory senses, he inhales a piece of his own clothing, a small handkerchief he kept on him all week. A trick using olfactory habituation to cleanse his palate from the surrounding smells, allowing him to only smell his mate. The crowd shifts, he can hear stilted murmurs about his physique being on display since he was shirtless as he walks past his pack. 

Stepping fully into the clearing, he inhales deeply, and instantly he picks up the laundry scent that he’s so used to being surrounded by. It’s definitely Everlight’s scent—he’s almost positive—but it has an edge to it, a slight tinge that he’s not used to smelling. The longer he stands there, the more the scent morphs into a cloying, headache inducing smell. It’s almost fake, a manufactured scent that doesn’t entice him. 

He steps away from the smell of it, noting an undercurrent of something nice. The crowd reacts, confused at his actions, but he doesn’t care. He knows he has to trust the moon. And that bourbon-honey scent? He wants more of that. Lifting the pouch again to his nose to rid it of the sickly sweet smell, he drops his hand after a few inhalations, allowing the soft honey smell to seep into his pores. It’s alluring, growing more seductive by the moment, but then it takes on the additional bitter scent of anxiety, and Namjoon worries that something is wrong. 

He can feel his inner wolf scratching to get closer, to protect, to save his mate—when he steps closer, the crowd reacts again, so he grabs at his blindfold, tearing it free so that he can get to you. He needs to calm you down, you need to feel safe, to know that your Alpha is here to protect you. He’s closer to you than expected, and the whine you let out calls to him in more ways than one. 

His body feels alight with flames, he can see you’re trembling. His hand moves without him thinking, gripping the blindfold and tugging it up and off your head. 

🌕🌕🌕 Friday - Full Moon 

The light of the moon feels blinding as you blink to adjust your eyes to the sudden return of your sight before it’s eclipsed by the broad body of the Alpha. His breaths are almost frantic, a heavy panting that moves his shoulders with each exhalation as his wild eyes roam your face. His neck gland is hidden by a tied piece of cloth, masking his scent partially and you want to bury your face into him, seeking safety and comfort. 

Your body responds to his proximity almost immediately, a simultaneous calming of the mind’s anxiety as physically you feel engulfed in a blaze, a sweat finally breaking out along your hairline as you’re thrown into full heat. Namjoon’s nostrils flare as he inhales you, his face looking triumphant as he kneels on one knee before you. He reaches for your hands, which tremble as he locks eyes with you. 

“Namjoon, what the hell?!” Everlight stands several omegas down from you, her face free of the blindfold, which now dangles from her fingertips at her side. She doesn’t move for a moment, not until she realizes the Alpha was not responding to her. Her steps don’t falter as she gets closer to you, but your scent grows sour as you take in the murderous look on her face.

Namjoon’s movements are quick and fluid. He stands and postures himself, keeping you protected behind him as he shoves Everlight back with one hand.

“Mine,” he growls. Everlight drops the blindfold, confusion blossoming upon her face. 

Namjoon turns to you, grasping your cheeks gently in his hands. “Mate.”

He throws his head back, and lets out a loud howl to the moon. 

Chaos ensues. The entire field grows loud as some pack members celebrate the ceremony’s success, while others gossip about the outcome. You can hear snippets of the conversations until another voice grows louder, shouting at the Alpha. It’s Everlight, your brain registers, she’s angry, her sour scent wafting in your direction as she screams. 

Some Betas you’ve never seen before hold her back, preventing her from coming closer to you and Namjoon. You back up, jostling into him, and the urge you had earlier grows so strong you don’t hold back. Jumping into his arms, you bury your nose into his neck, and you instantly melt against him, fatigued. Namjoon is startled but holds you tightly, and you can feel when he begins to walk swiftly away from the crowd.

You don’t question it, you just let your Alpha lead you to someplace safe. It takes a few minutes before you arrive at a small cottage, its windows lit with a soft glow. You recognize it for what it is—a mating cabin. Set far enough away from the town square that a newly mated Alpha and Luna can have alone time to get through the next few days. 

Namjoon sets you down, but doesn’t let you go. Opening the door, the first thing you see is a pack of water on the small wooden table. It’s one large room, like a studio with an open concept. There’s a small kitchen set up to the left, and straight ahead is a large bed. The sheets are clean and welcoming, and you can feel your body beginning to cramp as your heat kicks in. 

You knew it was coming—the low-grade fever, mild cramping, and more recently, increased slick and pheromone production ever since Namjoon touched you in the clearing. You shuffle, uncomfortable as slick leaks out of you, trailing down your thigh slowly.

You can hear Namjoon inhale sharply, before he’s kicking the door shut and grabbing you firmly. He doesn’t speak. His eyes say everything though, the adoration and lust sparkling in the low light in the room. 

“Alpha.” It’s a statement. It’s a request. 

His lips are on yours, devouring, tasting, suckling as if he can’t get enough of you.

“Honey. You taste like sweet bourbon infused honey…it’s intoxicating.” Namjoon kisses you again, this time his lips trail from yours to your neck. He teases you, teeth nipping at the skin as your thighs rub together seeking pleasure as he pulls sinful mewls from your throat. Your hands grip his upper arms, and you try to tug him towards the bed. You need him. You need his knot. 

“Please, Alpha,” you beg, and he shivers in your hold, aroused by your submissiveness. “Need you.”

Namjoon lifts you up, allowing you to wrap your legs around his waist. You grind against him, biting his bottom lip aggressively. You feel so hot—burning up—and he’s the only thing that can cure you from this growing pain. 

Your heat is in full swing, and you can tell it’s triggering your Alpha’s rut. He’s trying to hold back, be gentle and slow, but when you push your leaking core against him, he gives in. His hands fumble with the waistband of his linen pants before his heavy cock springs free, fully erect and searching for your entrance. You move your waist to help the angle of his cock, as one hand holds your hip and the other holds the base of his shaft to align himself. 

When the slight pressure on your slit gives, you thrust forward, forcing him inside you with ease thanks to your copious amounts of slick. You feel full, the head hitting in just the right spot. Attempting to create friction, you try to undulate your hips, but the resulting shockwaves from the tip meeting that sensitive spot causes you to clench around him. 

He freezes, feeling the quickening of your walls and you yelp in surprise when he throws you on the bed. The loss of him inside you feels unfair, but he steps out of his pants and soon crowds your body with his own as he climbs over your body. A firm hand presses into the middle of your upper back, before he grips your hips and pulls them upwards. The dress slides down, revealing your bare backside to him and you feel more than hear the growl he lets out. 

He leans against your body, ripping your dress up until you are able to slide the garment off your arms and throw it to the floor. A smack jolts you forward, but he adjusts you back into place. You feel his thumb drag over your slick covered folds, taunting you. 

“Alpha!” you whine, and he chuckles before realigning his length to your throbbing core. At this angle, he reaches deeper inside of you, and he begins to rock his hips, thrust after thrust inside you. His large hand grips your chin, turning your head to the side. 

“Want to see that pretty face as you cum on my cock, want to hear you cry for me when you take my knot.” His low baritone promises you pleasure beyond your imagination. 

He licks up your spine, kissing and nuzzling into your neck, and you know it's the spot he wants to mark you at. You beg him to do it, but he just shakes his head against your skin. “Not yet, my love.”

He kisses you with every thrust he takes, before sitting up more to pin you down to the bed. His movements grow sharp, hands grabbing at your ass cheeks as he pounds into you. Switching up his movements, you can’t believe he fucks so well when he begins to rotate his hips and slips his thumb into your mouth. You suck on it, drool leaking from your mouth onto the sheets as your legs shake. 

You clench again, involuntarily spasming every few seconds and you know you’re close—you tell him as much. 

“Fuck,” he curses, and you grip the bedsheets as he adjusts his hold on you. His hands move to your hips and he arches your back even more as he speeds up his own movements. They're fluid, your slick making it almost effortless for him to please you, to take you from behind like this until he’s so deep he could feel himself poking through your stomach—

“Take my knot, want you to have my pups, fuck—”he presses his hips flush to your ass, streams of his cum filling you up endlessly as your body wracks with euphoric release. You whine as you feel the intense pressure of his knot filling you before the pain of his marking bite overtakes your senses. 

You feel overwhelmed in a good way, pain giving way to pleasure as the bite seals your mated status and his knot begins to slowly deflate. Once able, Namjoon rolls you over to face him, nuzzling into you as you hold him close. Your heat was sated for the time being, but you knew that soon you would be climbing him once again to meet your needs. 

You wince as his nose grazes your fresh mark and he makes an apologetic face. Standing up from the bed, he grabs a bottle of water for you, twisting the cap off for you and proffering the drink. 

You take a full swallow, quenching the thirst you didn’t realize you had. Heats have a way of making you forget to take care of yourself in that way. The fatigue consumes you, and you drop back down to the bed. Namjoon takes the bottle from you and places it on the side table. His hands massage your calves, working his way along your thighs. His movements could put you to sleep, but you knew as well as he did that this reprieve would not last long. The moon shone through the window casting a faint glowing halo around Namjoon’s head.

He was yours. 

In the moon's tender glow, we're born anew,

The night's canvas echoes our ancient call,

Omegas and Betas, to their knees they fall,

For the Alpha, bound by destiny's fate.

To lead, to fight, to protect, to mate,

In lunar hours, gaze upon the sky,

Let Luna's wisdom be your guiding light,

Her soothing touch to mend wounds that cry.

When crescent rises, we shall rise as one,

Aligned with moonrise, our time has begun.

↣ all rights reserved © hisunshiine 2024. please do not repost. translations & modifications are not allowed.

[chateautae]

to turn a bad thing good | jjk. I

➵ summary: jungkook’s drunken one night stand goes awry when he comes to learn not only is he being forced into an arranged marriage, but it’s to the very girl he abandoned that night—and things get a lot more complicated when you’re the best hookup he’s ever had.

➵ pairing: ceo!jungkook x law student!f. reader

➵ genre: series, arranged marriage!au, fwb!au (?), haters to lovers!au, smut, fluff, angst

➵ rating: 18+

➵ word count: 13k

➵ warnings: swearing, loads of angsty arguing, sEXUAL tension, mentions of sexual content

➵ a/n: YAYYY it's here!! thank you endlessly to everyone who has loved, supported, and anticipated this series ever since I announced it. i’m grateful for  your patience and hope you enjoy this first chapter. I have so much in store 🥺 pls forgive me for mistakes i did not have a beta bLEH. your feedback means the world to me <3 

chapter one: “i’ve been to someone’s tomorrow”

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“Hello! Don’t you two dare get couply with me, I’m having a mid-life crisis!” 

 “Dude, you’re only 23, this isn’t a mid-life crisis, just a fucking crisis, goddammit.” 

 Jungkook scoffs derisively at Kim Taehyung’s curt voice over the phone. He rolls his eyes, knowing full well that his ride-or-die, lifelong friend is much more interested in indulging his wife right now. He’s happy for the man, he truly is, but Jungkook’s life is currently on the brink of destruction. 

 And he goddamn needs some sympathy. 

 “Hey Jungkook, it’s me.” Jungkook feels blessed to hear Taehyung’s wife on the phone, a much more kindred soul compared to his broody friend. “Go on, what happened to you? Why do you sound so scared?” 

 God, it’s good to hear that voice. Taehyung’s wife’s concern always sounded so genuine, like she’s handing you a cup of tea and creating a safe space for you to tear out your heart and empty its heft. It’s so goddamn sweet, it makes a person want to spill all their secrets until their soul is cleansed—it’s what makes Jungkook steel himself before relaying what’s happening to him. 

 After attending his friend Jung Hoseok’s club opening last night, he encountered the most enchanting woman he’s ever met. Her alluring eyes, her graceful body and seductive smile caught Jungkook like a Venus flytrap, unable to escape once nipped; but it was her sharp tongue and cleverly sexy mind games that keep Jungkook captive. He found that he enjoyed being captured, enjoyed the sweet pain of her cage and drowning in her nectar despite the poison; it resulted in the most mind-blowing sex of his entire life that night.

 Until he was slapped with the shittiest turn of events. 

 “What’s up, Jungkook? Did something happen with your hookup?” 

 “No, I need to tell you the crisis. So I had mind-blowing sex, yes, but then I woke up a couple hours ago and tell me how I heard my parents talking about getting me an arranged marriage, an arranged marriage for fuck’s sake!” Jungkook grinds his teeth with contempt, the word ‘marriage’ tasting foul on his tongue.

 “What? You’re getting an arranged marriage?” 

 “Yeah, my parents were just talking about it and I’ve been having a mental breakdown for an hour now, what am I supposed to do? I can’t fucking get married.” The very thought has been clawing at Jungkook’s stomach ever since. Marriage? Monogamy? Having his freedom stripped away? 

 He may actually turn green and throw up his stomach contents. 

 Jungkook has always been far from what most people expected a rich kid in Seoul to be. Devil-may-care, disobedient, allergic to responsibility. The word itself could make a disease break out in his blood, appalled by anything that demanded more than a night of fun or partying—it threatened his formula of escapism.

 Ever since Jungkook was old enough to grasp his family’s affluence, he’s had tradition, discipline and business politics rammed down his throat. The sheer force of it trained him to have an acute disgust for anything resembling it, resulting in a “troubled” child that rarely followed what his parents desired. 

 It was not his fault his father owned one of the largest gaming companies in Korea, on track to raiding the American markets and introducing a global name for Jeon Entertainment. It was not his fault he was his father’s child and his first born son, burdened with the responsibility to inherit the company from the moment he drew his first breath. It was not his fault he carried the weight of a thousand expectations of who he should be. 

 It was all decided for Jungkook. He had no say in the matter, no method to refute his prominence. No, he’d been forced to bid his parent’s wishes, unable to live a life of his own. So what did Jungkook do? How did he break out of these confinements and live his intemperate, so-called recalcitrant life? 

 He developed the only method he’d considered most effective; he’d live unapologetically. 

 Tattoos, piercings and partying proved his disobedience. He wouldn’t be the prim, proper son many expected of the Jeon family, adopting what society believed to be a “delinquent” image. Instead of posh ceremonies and frivolous flattering, Jungkook found his tongue down a woman’s throat in a dark bar or worked out until his muscles burned.

 Instead of unsteady politics and people-pleasing, Jungkook traversed every club in Seoul or smoked enough weed to forget the entire events of a weekend. Instead of empty words and fake smiles, he traded them for carefreeness, straight-forwardness, genuineness.

 Some would say Jungkook’s too simple, that he indulges in vices and the finer things in life because he’s too daft to comprehend the complexities of the ways of the world. A notorious playboy who’s only merit appears to be his ravishing good looks and god-like stroke game, but that’s only the image he builds, the persona he carefully curates for outsiders. 

 It’s not that he hides who he truly is, no, he merely goes about life without over-complication, allowing him the freedom he’s been forced to renounce. It’s his plan for the rest of his life; take as much control of it without giving a fuck about others, and he’ll always be happy. 

 It worked for as long as he was smart enough to understand people, to understand his indulgences and pleasures. But when Jungkook overheard he was being shoved into an arranged marriage, distaste was too light a word—he was filled with absolute loathing. 

 This is a complete fuck-up to his plan. 

 “Shit, you’re only 23, too, why would they be marrying you off?” 

 “I don’t know, I heard something about how she’s the daughter of some what-its-face CEO that our family knows.” Jungkook relays with a hard swallow, clutching his phone in his hand so hard his knuckles must be white. He gazes upon the horizon before his eyes in the early morning, brimming with an orangey hue that bathes the gorgeous skyline of Seoul, its light rays dancing across the Han River. 

 It rids Jungkook of the nausea climbing up his throat, threatening to hurl over his balcony. “I’m gonna throw up. I can’t do this, marriage is literally my kryptonite and I can’t get married, I can’t. What if the girl’s some stuck up brat? What if I hate her? Oh God.. what if she’s some goody two-shoes? What if-”

 “Shh, Jungkook, calm down.” Jungkook took a deep breath at the sound of Taehyung’s wife’s voice—he knows he’s losing it. “Look, I know it sucks and you didn’t agree to this, but maybe the girl won’t be so bad? Maybe you’re being matched because-oh fuck, Kim Taehyung, don’t you dare put your mouth there right now.” 

 “What? I can’t have my breakfast, thought I’d at least have a snack.” 

 Of course, this is what Jungkook should’ve expected to hear after he saw Taehyung and his wife nearly fucking each other on the dancefloor at Hoseok’s club last night. They were ravenous, practically impossible to not stumble upon and find either devouring each other with their eyes, one sitting in the other’s lap or lips passionately glued to one another. 

 Part of him envied their love and intimacy, but he's more glad the two seemed to be jolly again after the fight they’d been having for weeks. And as much as he’d love to hear the lovebirds go at it this morning, his patience was running thin. “Ugh, could you guys not get disgusting in front of me? I’m still having a fucking crisis here.”

 “Right.. right, Jungkook.” 

 “Jungkook, dude, look. Arranged marriages aren’t even that bad, look at how mine turned out.” 

 “That’s because your wife is literally perfect, you asshole.” Jungkook grits—he’s telling the truth. His friend’s wife was possibly the prettiest woman inside and out he’s ever seen. She’s kind-hearted, head-strong, and even has these adorable doe-eyes that could charm any man. It’s no wonder his friend fell so hard for her, he couldn’t blame him. 

 Jungkook harboured strong feelings of admiration for Taehyung’s wife—of a Seoul rich kid able to defy the status quo and live for herself. 

 His friend’s wife was a tale often heard and discussed; the daughter of famous architect and CEO Min Namhyun, running away from the family to pursue her dreams on her own two feet. While it wasn’t an exact replica of Jungkook’s tale, it was still a distant cousin. Someone who despised the closed quarters of a suffocatingly rich family, the disarming responsibilities, the soul-crushing pressure. 

 Jungkook could only hope he’d escape it like his friend’s wife did, but this marriage tosses him right back to square one. 

 “I mean, I can’t argue with that.” His friend boasts over the phone, tugging Jungkook back into reality. 

 “Fucking hell, you guys are just a special case, too. And it’s only because your wife is literally so perfect, and caring, and cute, and cool, not to mention a ride or die. I mean, who the fuck throws a right hook like her? And for your sorry ass? She’s literally the epitome of wifey material, hot and sexy-” 

 “Jeon, shut the fuck up before I personally murder you.” 

 “I mean, he isn’t wrong. I’m pretty cool. I also have nice eyes, don’t I? Not to mention my plushy lips? And my cute height, too, Mr. Kim?” Jungkook had to bite back his laugh, remembering when Taehyung became uncharacteristically timid and told all their friends three things he liked about his new wife. His marriage was still fresh after the initial arrangement then, just two strangers forced into matrimony, but even Jungkook knew there was something special between the two of them. 

 It was obvious; something warm and kindred in the way his friend looked at his wife that indicated his heart was meant to belong to her. 

 Jungkook knew his story wouldn’t be the same fairytale. 

 “You’re so sweet, Jungkook. You’re like the perfect package, all endearing but then you have muscles like that too? Do you work out?”

 Jungkook nearly blushed, flattered by the compliments. He’s seconds from adding to the joke before Taehyung’s so-calm-it’s-scary voice rippled through the phone.

 “I wouldn’t do that if I were you, Princess. You’re naked right now, and I have access to every inch of your body. Want me to touch you while he’s on the phone? Let him hear the way you moan for me? Maybe give him a sneak peek of what happened last night? All I remember is you digging your nails into my back and riding me until-” 

 “Okay, Tae, shut up! God, you’re so annoying.” 

 Jungkook heard Taehyung bellow out a laugh, and he couldn’t help but be a shit-disturber like always, their happiness contagious. “Damn, Tae, I’m gonna get turned on over here, you know I have a voyeurism kink. Invite me over next time you’re going at it, I like watching my porn live-” 

 “Jungkook, you’re dead to me. Goodbye.” 

 “Wait, wait! I’m serious, Tae. What do I do about this goddamn marriage?!” 

 “Suck it up and marry the damn girl, for fuck’s sake. She’s probably not even that bad, if anything I feel bad for her, you’re the asshole, Jungkook.” Taehyung snips back. “Watch you end up falling in love with her, I’m gonna be there to say I told you so.” 

 “But-!” And Jungkook’s cut off, left to stare at his phone. He resists the urge to toss it over the railing and let it plummet to the ground, its pieces scattering everywhere until they’re eventually dust. How hilarious; that sounds a fuck-ton like Jungkook’s ravaged freedom right now, his goddamn autonomy, his sovereignty. 

 What happened to Jungkook’s rights? Why can’t his parents respect the goddamn progressive state of the world and just let him live?

 The things he’s fought to preserve ever since he was a kid, the things he valued more than anything else, gone with the wind just like his right to choose. He knew there was no fighting this one either, no manner of escape he couldn’t accomplish without completely destroying his family. 

 And despite what many want to believe about him, Jungkook isn’t selfish. 

 He can’t choose himself without damning others, so he swallows down his pride, his anger, his instinct to defy, and marches back into his room. He tosses away his shirt and strips off his dress pants, left to crawl into his bed and marinate in what the fuck he’s going to do. 

“Avatar is literally one of the best movies ever.” 

 “Crap. The best movie ever is Inception and you know it.” 

 “Oh please, you’re just trying to be edgy. You’re the same guy who hates on Silence of the Lambs for the fuck of it.” 

 “Not my fault I’m not into serial killers who skin their victims and wear them.” 

 You snort as you whack your best friend Taeksu in the bicep, giggling into your martini. “Admit it, you just like to be different.” 

 “What can I say, I’m a one of a kind guy.” 

 Taeksu’s full-of-it smirk makes you bop him in the shin, earning an overly-exaggerated exclamation of pain from him. You roll your eyes as you request a refill on your martini from the gorgeous bartender who hasn’t been discreet with his few-too looks in your direction and his sexy lop-sided grin. You send him a lascivious one in return, drinking up his bulky muscles and square jaw you ache to kiss. 

 “Hello, earth to Y/N?” Taeksu flails his hand in front of your face, earning a scoff from you. 

 “Why are you interrupting my game, loser? What the hell do you want?” 

 “I asked how your final essay for contract law is going.” Taeksu bites back with the same attitude, swirling around his Whiskey before downing it. “Forgive me for goddamn asking, you idiot.” 

 “Says you.” You retort, narrowing your eyes at him. He stares right back, challenging you with his formidable eyes, though not threatening in the least. 

 That was the thing about your best friend Cho Taeksu, his eyes told everything. Their stunning shade of hazel with green flecks made his gaze appear soft and light no matter the situation, and never allowed you to take the man seriously. 

 It’s what made you two such a great pair; both of you didn’t take anything seriously. You’d discovered your similar laissez-faire approach to life when you met the snot-nosed kid at the age of 8. 

 You stumbled upon a young Taeksu lounging in his bedroom rather than enjoying the bustling party his parents were throwing downstairs. He was wearing a dapper little button up with his tiny tie a little off-center, sniffling away his allergies. His light-brown hair was mussed and his lips drawn into a pout, annoyed with his constant sniffling. 

 Your mother had let you wander the Cho mansion earlier, a notion she was comfortable with considering the Cho’s were good friends with your parents. 

 Taeksu was playing with a model car, imitating the sounds of a roaring engine as he knocked over a tower of wooden blocks. His room appeared as cool as an 8-year-old’s room could; a gigantic lava lamp in the corner, a car bed with a water mattress, a Nintendo 64 with his very own TV. You’d opened his door further as curiosity plagued you, only for the creak of the cherrywood to alert Taeksu of your presence. 

 Fear gripped you at invading his space; would he be like the other boys that didn’t want to play with a girl? That refused to share their expensive toys with anyone else? That would be mean to you?

 “Are you not having fun?” 

 You tilted your head; what a weird question. “What do you mean?” 

 “At the party, is it not fun?” 

 The boy seemed so… calm, relaxed. He continued playing with his car as you ventured inside his room, timidness overcoming you. “I don’t like these parties. Too many people.” 

 The boy pouted, sighing. “Me neither.” 

 “Won’t you get in trouble by your parents? For being here?” 

 The boy pouted again, jerking his small shoulders up and down as he sniffled. “It’s okay. No biggie. I’m having fun like this.” 

 His lack of care honestly shocked you in that moment, taken by his ability to shut out what others wanted of him and simply pursue something he enjoyed, even if it was merely playing with a toy car. It was a trait of Taeksu’s that remained consistent throughout the 15 more years you’d known him, a trait you’d come to admire. 

 You found that your lives were so similar, so entangled that being best friends was simply fate. That connection extended to your families, your parents such synergistic friends that forging an unbreakable bond was inevitable. 

 It doesn’t hurt that Taeksu isn’t ugly either, no, he’s objectively one of the most attractive men you’d ever seen. His eyes were like rare gems of amber and emerald, a product of his Persian mother, complemented by brown, silky hair and flawless face structure courtesy of his Korean father. The man was a beautiful mix of rarity on his own. His physique was tall but lean, straight teeth that made for a handsome smile, and a kind heart that could ensnare the affections of any woman he set his eyes on. 

 He never really utilized that much around you, though. 

 After staring too hard, you and Taeksu burst into laughter, the alcohol poisoning your bloodstream by now, becoming loose-lipped and loose-limbed. Taeksu also appears slightly flushed, his grin a little too wide indicating that he’s now tipsy, and easily swayed. “So what, haven’t started your essay for contract law yet?” 

 “No, I started. Finished, actually.” You correct yourself, glugging your shot of tequila before sucking on a lime. You let the liquor burn your throat and dizzy your mind, leaning your cheek into your palm against the bar counter. “Why are you asking, anyway? Looking to copy off?” 

 Taeksu snorts. “Please, if I ever copied off you my GPA would drop.” 

 A look of disgust dawns on your features before punching his arm, once again earning his dramatics. “What the hell, Y/N?” 

 “You’re the one doing things to deserve it.” 

 Taeksu shakes his head in disapproval as your drunkenness takes over, slowing your speech. “Why are you even talking about school when that blonde chick over there has been eyeing you for 20 minutes?” 

 You make a light gesture towards the girl’s general direction, Taeksu flitting a glance to indeed find a gorgeous girl smiling at him, confident enough to even wave him a seductive hi. Taeksu scoffs through his smile, wetting his lips before his gaze falls to you. “I don’t remember saying I’m sleeping with someone tonight.” 

 “Well, you should.” You encourage him, clasping his shoulder like he’s your teammate. Indeed that’s what Taeksu always was; your partner in crime, your buddy, your homie. As attractive as the man might be, he’s also the same man that’s seen your absolute worst, and you his. You knew the kid when he thought replicating the movie “How to Eat Fried Worms” was a genius idea and his mother spanked him raw for destroying her microwave with cooked worm. 

 You knew the kid when he vomited all over you during field trips, his motion sickness as persistent as the damn devil. You even knew him when he needed to jump ship on a hookup because his dinner settled terribly in his stomach and he had the runs. You were his saviour that night; you posed as his mother texting him that his aunt had died. 

 Bless Taeksu’s auntie, but it was his most embarrassing moment he refused to tell anyone—save you.

 Suffice to say, Taeksu was and will always be a friend. Your feelings never bloomed beyond that. You could never see him in a romantic light without something foreign crawling through your blood or feeling as though you’re deeply wronging him. 

 The furthest you’d go is sleeping with him, and that would cause nothing but carnage. Your appetite for sex was nothing like his, used to fill a void that haunts your soul—sex could mean absolutely nothing to you but everything to him. You couldn’t risk rousing those feelings inside him nor jeopardizing the future relationship Taeksu could have with the right woman, someone he truly belongs with. 

 It’s what always allowed you to operate like this with Taeksu; best friends, and nothing more. 

 “Why do you think I should?” 

 “Because law school is so stressful, and you need a good fuck to relax.” 

 Taeksu frowns. “Who says I’m stressed?” 

 “Says the damn wrinkles forming on your forehead.” 

 “My what?!” Taeksuk screeches as he snatches his phone and accesses his front-facing camera, examining his forehead—you cackle. 

 “Taeksu, if you stress over the wrinkles, you’ll get even more.” You continue to snicker as Taeksu tells you off, flinging insults and teases he never means at all. Your banter persists for another five minutes before your gorgeous bartender refills your glass without you asking. 

 “Oh, I’m sorry. But my bill’s already quite–” 

 “Bill? It’s on me, love. Every drink has been.” 

 The magnetism of his stare has you believing you’re North and South poles, destined to connect. Your body could feel the buzz his own promised; thick muscles and broad stature, the low timbre of his voice invoking libidinous thoughts. The ghost of his whispers, the heat of his desire, the rough masculinity of his roaming hands… 

 “You look like you’re seconds from orgasming.” 

 Taeksu’s voice makes you cut a side-long glance at him. “And how would you know what that looks like?” 

 “Think I’ve made enough women come to know.” Taeksu sips his Whiskey with a smirk. “But neither of you are being discreet. Are you thinking of sleeping with him?” 

 “Yes, I very much am.” You answer matter-of-factly, your bartender returning to concocting more drinks, but the ghost of a smile on his lips telling you he’s in the same boat as you—your foreboding eyes cut to Taeksu. “Is that a problem?” 

 “No,” Taeksu stiffens like he always does, swallowing a little harder than he should. He steels himself, though, draining the rest of his liquor. “But you’re quite drunk. Sober up before sleeping with him.” 

 “Don’t worry, I’m only tipsy, Taeksu.” You drawl, stroking your bottom lip with a seductive finger, eyes only for your bartender. “Like I said, how else do you get rid of stress other than a good fuck?” 

 Taeksu breathes a laugh at your proclamation, nodding. “Like you said about the guy last night. You didn’t tell me much about that.” 

 The simple reminder of last night left tremors through your body, forced to recall the ecstasy of it. All you had in mind was perusing a newly opened club belonging to an infamous chain owned by Jung Hoseok, a man one would call Dionysus himself. His music was spell-binding, his liquor of the finest quality and his circle of people even more delicious. 

 You barely remember the man you’d had inside of you last night, but there wasn’t much room for talking once his lips landed on yours. His roaming hands made fireworks explode in your veins, his touch igniting a burning passion within you. 

 You’d had the most mind-blowing sex you’d ever experienced, a rarity in your usual escapades. The man knew how to touch you, not just that he knew women. He excavated your body, understood your pleasures as though he was a study in what made you tick and utilized it to give you the night of your life. 

 The sheer memory of him made you sweat, shooing away the thought before you longed for something gone. He’d left by the time you’d awakened in your apartment, alone, wondering whether you were angry at him or angry at yourself for expecting something more. 

 “Not much to tell.” 

 “The look on your face says there’s a lot to tell.” 

 You roll your eyes at Taeksu and flick his cheek, your face contorting with teasing. “You definitely need a good fuck; would teach you to stop over-analyzing me.”

 Taeksu chuckles, leaning his elbow against the bar counter. “Whatever you say, loser. Don’t say I never warned you about not being sober tonight, though.” 

 “Noted.” 

 You’re ready to make your move, downing your glass of water before straightening out of your dress and breathing deeply. You face Taeksu and blink rapidly, touching your hair. “Is my hair okay? I’ve been running my hands through it all night.” 

 Taeksu studies you, and it’s the kind of look that could get him in trouble. He gazes like you’re the only woman in the world, that softness shimmering with something indescribable. You swallow at the look, at his hand coming up to your face to softly tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. His thumb coasts your cheek before he grins, a genuine and sweet one. “Bartender was right to call you beautiful.” 

 You inhale sharply, returning his smile before nodding and propping off your seat. You’re in the middle of banishing the conflicting thoughts Taeksu’s gaze just stirred when your phone begins buzzing on the bar counter, revealing a photo of your mom. 

 “Damn, why is she calling me now?” 

 Taeksu shrugs. “Want me to answer? Could be something important.” 

 “It’s okay, I’ll answer.” You thank him, snagging your phone and accepting her call without a single idea of the reality that’s going to hit you. 

  “You want me to what?” 

 “I want you to come with me on this cruise next weekend, Y/N. We’re meeting some very important people and I don’t feel like going alone.” 

 “But mooom—” 

 “Bidulgi, please. I’d much rather journey on a cruise with my daughter instead of alone.” 

 You sigh listening to the term of endearment your mother used with you. Bidulgi, dove, something she likened to calling you ever since you were four years-old and declared to the world that you wanted to be just like your mother—a lawyer who fights for people’s justice and freedom. She’d taught you that doves symbolized peace, freedom, and love, and wanted you to become not only a lawyer, but someone that emulated those things. 

 You couldn’t resist her when she called you her dove. 

 “Fine, mom. But who are we even meeting? And why is it a cruise? How long are we gone for?” 

 “Just half a week, Y/N. They’ve invited us on a cruise for the day that’ll dock in Hong Kong, and from there they’d like to take us to the Maldives.” 

 “The Maldives?” You squeak in question, absolutely bewildered. “Who the hell is taking us to the Maldives?” 

 “You’ll meet them next weekend. Spend this week packing for the cruise and the Maldives.” You sigh at your mother’s neglect for your life, not even registering how sudden this is.

 “Mom, as much as I’d love to go on a trip, I have school and my internship. I can’t just up and leave for a luxurious vacation.” 

 “Taeksu already told me that you’re ahead in all of your class assignments and merely have studying left. You’ll have plenty of time to study upon the cruise and in the Maldives, and we’ll be back before your exams. As for the internship, considering you’re the daughter of the firm’s owner, I see no reason why you can’t have some time off.” 

 “But mom, you know I love working for your firm—” 

 “That’s final, Y/N. You will accompany me to this meeting. Am I not allowed to spend time with my daughter?” 

 You exhale heavily, shaking your head as you rummage through escape plans from this. You come up short in the end, because is there truly a way? There’s no winning an argument against a lawyer; a task as Herculean as beheading a Hydra. “Fine, mom. What about Jihoon and dad, though? We can’t just leave them.”

 “Your little brother has school, and you know your father’s condition—he won’t be able to join us.” 

 Your mood plummets at the news, refusing to let it damper the rest of your night. “Okay. We’ll talk about this more later, though.” 

 “Good, I wouldn’t expect anything less. Always ask questions before taking any deal.” You breathe a smile at the pride in her tone, her parenting always having been through the lens of a lawyer. As annoying as it could be sometimes, it did have its perks, too. 

 “Bye, mom.” 

 “Take care, nae bidulgi.” 

 Cutting the call, you narrow your eyes at Taeksu. “You knew my goddamn mom was gonna whisk me away to the Maldives? And you didn’t tell me.” 

 “Hey,” he protests, hailing up his hands in surrender. “She told me not to say anything and you know your mom. The woman’s a kickass lawyer for God’s sake, I couldn’t defy her.” 

 Sticking your tongue out at him, you march towards where you last saw your bartender, fed up with the situation—you might as well fuck your mind off it. Unable to locate him, you land on the first employee you can spot, leaning over the counter. “Hey, have you seen that really good-looking colleague of yours? Dark hair? Super buff?” 

 “Ah, you probably mean Hyunwoo. He just went to the back. One of my best guys.” The man flashes you a sunny smile as he crosses his arms over his chest, tilting your head at his words. 

 “One of your guys? As in you’re his boss?” 

 “Everyone’s boss, technically. I kinda own the place.” 

 You’re far too tipsy to consider you’re speaking to the Jung Hoseok, having barely noticed him at yesterday’s club opening. You thank him for the information and he tells you it’s no problem, along with what time Hyunwoo gets off work. 

 His information was more than correct, because you ended up finding Hyunwoo after his shift, sticking your tongue down his throat, and letting him shove his hand in your panties as he pressed you up against his car, grinding like two teenagers in heat. He drove you to his place where you both went at it quick and dirty, rough and nasty, left with enough whisker burn to have scratched you raw. 

 Though it was like nothing you had with the man the night before, left with the ghost of him haunting you, and wondering if he’ll ever return. 

  “You want me to what?!” 

 “We want you to take over the company, son.” 

 Jungkook scoffs as anger rages inside him, threatening to boil up all his blood. “You can’t be fucking serious, dad.” 

 “Watch your language, child.” Jungkook’s father rebukes him. “You knew this was coming, son. Why are you so upset? You were always destined to inherit the company.” 

 “But I thought I had time, time to actually want it.” Jungkook argues, exasperated beyond belief. “I’m only 23, dad. You can’t make me run an entire company.” 

 “And who says you can’t?” Jungkook’s mother cuts in, her arms tightly folded across her chest. “Son, your father built this company at 20 years-old, who says you can’t run it at 23? Besides, you’ve always loved games, what’s stopping you now?” 

 “Mom,” Jungkook exhales with a dry laugh, raking his hands through his long hair. “Enjoying games is one thing but running an entire fucking company is another. You can’t just drop this responsibility on me, you can’t!” 

 “Jungkook, you cannot escape this.” His father’s voice grows stern. “You are my firstborn and only son, and you are to inherit my company. There is no negotiating this; I do not care how hard you try to rebel against me or ruin your image. I do not care if you are nothing more than my playboy son who wastes the last half of his brain on partying and drinking, you will inherit my company and embrace my legacy.” 

 Jungkook attempts to hide the disgust on his face, the sting in his heart when his father regards him with such disdain. He’d grown used to his undermining and condescending language since he was a boy, speaking to Jungkook as if he were an obtuse child unable to fill his father’s shoes. 

 This is why Jungkook has always looked the other way, why he’s been fighting for his freedom since the day he understood his fate; disappointing his parents by being the worst was much better than disappointing them with his best. 

 Jungkook’s fist clenched open and closed, remembering to breathe through his fury, to channel it into his fists later when they met the hardness of a punching bag. His head is pounding, his brain computing five million possibilities at once, his body buzzing with the need to rampage. “You’re already forcing me to marry someone, you can’t force me to own your company. You just can’t.” 

 “Yes, I can. And you will.” Jungkook’s father remains unmovable, utterly stubborn. “Do not defy me.” 

 “And what if I ruin your company?” Jungkook venously retorts, jaw tightly locked. “What if I run it to the ground and you lose every precious thing you’ve worked so hard for?” 

 Jungkook’s father smiles grimly, replicating the malice of the Joker himself. “Then you’ll be damning yourself and the rest of our family, son. And I know you’re not so stupid as to jeopardize that. After all, your money has been my money your whole life; what are you to do without the penthouse you live in or the car you drive? The luxuries you bathe in everyday? What of your mother and sister? Will you let them lose everything because of your ignorance?” 

 Jungkook’s mind shatters; this is why his father was doing this. He knew Jungkook would have no choice, knew that his one weakness was always his family, that he’d do anything for them. He was manipulating that love, knowledgeable that Jungkook truly had no choice when sandwiched between these two tragedies. He had to run the company as best he could to support everyone, and failure to do so would result in his worst nightmare. 

 His family destroyed… his sister…

 Jungkook laughs, meek and dry. He’s tired, he’s furious, he feels like tearing everything in this room apart. His chest aches and his brain throbs and his shoulders feel heavy with the weight of so much pressure, like a boulder crushing every tendon inside him. 

 He’s so… so fucking tired. 

 “Fine,” Jungkook grits, barely able to stand. His eyes fill with malevolence as he accusingly points at his father, his voice taut. “But I am not, and will never do this for you. I’m doing this for Mari… only for Mari.” 

 Jungkook doesn’t even give his father time to rebuttal before he turns his cheek and throws open the door of his parents’ suite, venturing away with white hot rage radiating through his every step.

  “Mom, why the hell are you dressing me up?” 

 “Because, my love, you need to look pretty for this meeting.” 

 You grumble as your mother flocks around you like a wild bird, pestering you about your makeup and hair and outfit and shoes and purse as though you’re meeting the Prime Minister of Korea himself. Her constant blithering is enough to make your eardrums surrender, left utterly exhausted. 

 “Mom, what’s wrong with you? Why are you acting as though this is the most important meeting in the world?” 

 Your mother stiffens for a millisecond before softening, her expression calm and collected. You know the woman spent the better half of her life schooling her emotions as a lawyer, slaying any feelings of anxiety and doubt like a warrior. But the nerves always showed in her eyes, in her hands that sometimes shook, in the entirely unconscious way she’d clean just to distract herself. 

 Right now she was tidying up your entire suite on the cruise, her voice distant. “Nothing’s wrong, Y/N. You know appearances are everything and I just want my daughter to look beautiful.” 

 “Do you mean to say I’m not always beautiful?” 

 It’s only a joke, your light-hearted tone and a small chuckle saying that much, but your mother gasps as though someone has misplaced one of her files. Your mother has always hated when people touched her files. 

 She approaches you with a kind smile as she cradles your cheeks, her eyes sweeter than cotton candy. She’s been so benevolent lately that you’re afraid this may be the calm before the storm, wary of what today really entails. 

 She still refuses to share many details about the meeting today, nor has she informed you of the people part of it. You could be walking into a den of monsters and not know, but she’s your mother—the woman who raised you to be relentless, strong-spirited, a goddess. You’d always trusted her, always let her be your confidant because she offered so much more than just being a mother—she acted as a best friend, a sister, a counsellor even. 

 Even if growing up under her strictness and expectations wasn’t easy, you like to believe she truly molded you into the person you are today. She did what was necessary; polished a rock hard enough until it became a diamond. 

 You trust your mother, so you’ll blindly follow her into this meeting if you have to. 

 “You are the most beautiful woman, Y/N.” Your mother coos, tracing one of the earrings you wear. “You look stunning.” 

 Your lips naturally curl, touched by her love. “I’m only beautiful because I get it from my mother.” 

 She grins, wide and true, but you can’t help but distinguish the lightest regret in her eyes, as though she’s shielding something from you. You want to press her, desperate to understand what’s going on, but you know your mother—whatever it is, it’s for your benefit. 

 Taking a deep breath, you clasp her wrist, bouncing your brows. “Shall we?” 

 She giggles warmly in return, gripping your hand. “We shall.” 

  To say this cruise was beautiful is an understatement, it was absolutely lavish, decadent. Its sheer opulence begged the question of the wealth of whomever you were meeting tonight, only a billionaire’s pockets deep enough to afford this.

 Your mother still opted for secrecy regarding everything tonight, but she informed you of the cruise. One of the most luxurious to sail; it was owned by the man you were both meeting, colouring you 26 shades of impressed. The activities and events on board were enough to spend days on the ship; it was genuinely disheartening to think you’d only be able to indulge until tomorrow. 

 Manuevering across the ship and into a more private, though equally opulent room above the main deck, your eyes widen at the sight beyond the windows. The vast sea offers a soothing sight tonight, the scent of salt water like balm to your soul. The sounds of waves crashing are shut out in this room, though present, threatening to lull anyone who listens too carefully to sleep. 

 You’re so busy admiring the breadth of the ocean that you’re startled by the sound of an older man entering the room, his voice joyful and welcoming. “Bitna, there you are, how great it is to see you!” 

 “Ah, Chinhae, it’s great to see you too!” Your mother lights up with a merry smile, reaching out and embracing the man with familiarity. “Let me introduce you to my daughter, Y/N.” 

 “Well would you look at her, she looks just like you, Bitna.” Chinhae politely compliments, extending his hand for a shake. You meet him in the middle and respectfully bow, plastering on a smile. “Nice to meet you, dear. I’m Jeon Chinhae. I’ve heard wonderful things from your mother.” 

 “Thank you, Mr. Jeon.” You squeeze his hand, soon shooting your mother a reprimanding look. “I’m sad to say my mother didn’t tell me much about this meeting or yourself.” 

 “With good reason, Y/N.” Your mother tuts. 

 “Bitna, how could you? I think you’ve wounded me a little.” Mr. Jeon jokes, causing you and your mother to chuckle. They begin some light small talk as your mind starts to wander, contemplating the significance of tonight’s meeting. 

 What is your mother planning? Considering this man owns this ship means he’s incredibly wealthy; perhaps a politician? Another lawyer? Someone you could potentially work with after you’ve finished law school? But you don’t know of any extravagantly affluent lawyers by the name of Jeon, already familiar with Seoul’s upper echelon of justice representatives. 

 Seoul’s upper echelon… now that gets your gears shifting. He must be a member if he’s in possession of such a lavish vessel and freely offering you and your mother an all-inclusive vacation to the Maldives. 

 You rake your mind for the name Jeon then. It sounds so familiar, a company of sorts often on the news and in stores… ah! Jeon Entertainment. 

 This must be the CEO of Jeon Entertainment, it’s the only viable option. Of course the CEO of a gaming company could afford all of this; the gaming market remains crazy profitable as technology advances, creating new ways for humans to escape their reality and immerse themselves in alternate worlds. 

 “She’s only told me of the wonderful trip you mean to take us on, which we’re very grateful for, Mr. Jeon.” You honestly extend your gratitude as you cut into the conversation; it’s not everyday an illustrious family waves you a free ticket for a vacation in your face. 

 “No need for thanks, dear. I’m certain we’ll be like family on this trip, anyway.” Mr. Jeon smiles kindly, and his words slightly confound you. Like family? Surely if your mom considered the man family, she would’ve told you about him. 

 “Please, Chinhae. Where is the rest of your family? I haven’t seen your wife in far too long.” Your mother laments, causing Mr. Jeon to regretfully exhale. 

 “Ah, she’s with my son. I’m sure they’ll be out soon.” Mr. Jeon kisses his teeth with slight annoyance and swivels around, calling out to the corridor he emerged from. “Jagiya, our guests are here!” 

 You and your mother fall into needless conversation to seem polite as Mr. Jeon nearly stomps his way to the corridor, calling out again. It’s then you hear whispered-yelling, barely coherent but evident. They sound angry and distressed, alerting you that something seems off about this. 

 Mr. Jeon settles as two shadows appear before him. His smile, though fake, rises. “Ah, Bitna, Y/N, let me present my wife and son. Jeon Aecha and Jeon Jungkook.” 

 You’re smiling politely, ready to respectfully bow for the two people that enter the room. What you’re met with is nothing you’d expect; your jaw unhinges the second you lay eyes on a frustrated man venturing into the room as though he’d rather watch paint dry, and his distraught mother trailing behind. 

 Your heart stops, your blood spikes and suddenly every hair on your body rises, unable to fathom…

 This is the exact same man you slept with the other night, the one who absolutely rocked your world.

 And now here he is before you, his eyes widening just like yours. Clearly he’s as shocked to see you, frozen. It takes all but two seconds for shame to dawn on his features, evidently recalling how things were left between you two—he’d run off before you could even wake up, dooming the night to a simple one night stand. 

 Petty anger settles into your bones, once again either hating the man for leaving or yourself for expecting him to stay. You weren’t anticipating much; you’re a woman who stands by one night stands, sex merely something you craved and often got. But you at least expected him to stay until breakfast, to have that awkward but mollifying conversation where both parties either agree to continue the relationship or end things there. 

 And you’d wanted to continue things with this man. He was different, and deliciously good in bed. But no, he didn’t respect you enough to have that conversation, or clearly hated the sex so much that he disappeared like a thief in the night. 

 Looking at his stupid face now, you hate that he did, hate him for leaving you, hate that his skills in bed were so good you’d been reeling for days.

 You decide to toss aside those notions now, forget the fact that you’ve slept with the goddamn CEO of Jeon Entertainment’s son. You could hardly look Mr. Jeon in the eye now, introducing his son as though you didn’t already know what he feels like inside of you. 

 The thought forces you to clear your throat and collect your wits, schooling yourself as you greet who you now know as Jungkook, and his mother. 

 “It’s lovely to meet you.” You say, swallowing down the urge to stare at Jungkook. “What could be bringing our two families together in such a wonderful place? I’ve heard the ship actually belongs to you, Mr. Jeon.” 

 “Ah, yes, it does, dear.” He grins widely. “I’m sure my son would be happy to show you around tomorrow. You’ll be spending quite some time together after all.” 

 You then remember you’re meant to spend this entire vacation with Jungkook’s family, and of course, Jungkook himself. The thought nearly makes your insides coil, forced to be with the same man that left you that night. Still, your mother was friends with this family, and you’d use every available method to hide the true nature of how you know Jungkook in order to preserve niceties. 

 No matter that the fucking heat of his stare from across the room keeps distracting you… fuck. 

 “Of course, the trip to the Maldives. Is there something to be celebrating?” You query, curious as to what occasion there is. Jungkook’s entirely blank face suddenly folds when his eyebrows quirk in confusion, eyes darting towards you. It’s then shock blooms on his features, soon his jaw flexing as he looks away.

 “Oh? Did your mother not tell you about our meeting today?” Mr. Jeon asks, shaking your head as you peer at your mother. 

 “No, she didn’t. Is there something I should know?” 

 Mr and Mrs Jeon then send each other puzzled looks, your mother barely able to meet your eyes. Your confusion only grows, peeking between both hesitant parties. 

 Mr. Jeon then grins politely, speaking carefully. “Ah, Bitna, you didn’t tell your daughter about the marriage between my son and your daughter?” 

 You choke, both literally and figuratively. Your body goes rigid, mind blanketed by a snowstorm. Your very understanding of reality crumbles, chest pierced by a cruel arrow of pain. You glance at your mother, who looks at you with a world of regret, finally understanding why she seemed so off today. 

 This entire time… this entire time she planned on having you married off, and she didn’t tell you? 

 “Mom…” You breathe, ribs threatening to cave in, leaving you bare and naked as you face the people in this room. You feel too vulnerable, too seen, too exposed. “Mom… you-you didn’t tell me?” 

 Your mother smiles with guilt, reaching out for you. “Bidulgi, I’m so sorry. I just wanted you to meet the Jeon’s without any judgement.” She coos, coos like she always does, even using that term of endearment with you to sweeten the blow of her words. 

 She planned this… she–she ambushed you with this news, purposefully withheld the information so you had no choice but to agree. You couldn’t rudely reject the marriage in front of the Jeon family, not with them letting you stay on their ship and taking you to the Maldives. Not with their son right here, who’s gone so still you’re certain the man is stone. 

 That’s nothing like you, though. No, you're a whirlwind of emotions; hurt, betrayal, pain, sorrow, betrayal. You feel like you’re living somebody’s life, somebody else’s tomorrow, certain this is all a cosmic joke because this can’t be your life. 

 But your eyes then fall to the woman responsible for this; your mother. Not anyone else’s, yours, meaning this is your life, and it is happening to you. You feel horribly wronged by her; she knew you trusted her, used that trust and manipulated you into a deadlock of a decision. 

 Marriage? Fucking marriage? She wanted you to marry someone, and of all fucking people on Earth, it’s to the man who left your bed as though you were some meaningless rump in the sheets? 

 You’re shaking with anger by the time your mother and Jungkook’s parents begin talking, discussing the most menial of things. Mr. Jeon asks about your father, and your mother gives the usual answer she does. Mrs. Jeon even dares to joke about wedding decorations, her and your mother beginning to discuss which flowers to purchase for the ceremony. 

 They continue to speak freely, acting as though their children they’re forcing to wed aren’t even there, mere pawns to be moved around on their chessboard. You can barely stand now, white hot fury poisoning your blood. To be in the same room as your mother feels akin to burning, the sting of her betrayal more agonizing than any venom. 

 Tears threaten to spill from your eyes, incapable of remaining here, of accepting this. Your embarrassment is gut-wrenching, unbelieving that your mother could do this to you, could leave you looking imbecilic in front of your future fiance’s family—those very words taste wrong in your mouth.

 She was always such a modern woman, forward-thinking and progressive. You would’ve never thought she could do something as old-fashioned as marry her daughter off to a stranger—it seems you were wrong.

 You can’t even breathe anymore, so overcome with emotion that you excuse yourself for a breath of fresh air, fighting to keep the contents of your dinner in your stomach. 

  “Uh… hey.” 

 You whip your head around to find Jungkook hesitantly sauntering onto the deck, shutting the door behind him. You grip the railings of the bow of the ship, letting the sea breeze whisk through your hair. 

 You’d ventured outside to clear your head, to let the unsettling waters of the ocean perhaps distract you from the choppy waves in your own mind. But it’s far from clear now as you watch Jungkook’s eyes dart elsewhere, lodging his hands into his pockets, feet shifting. 

 You despise that your memory of him the other night resurfaces, distraught with how he appears the same; strikingly handsome with a boyish charm that completely contradicts his playboy sex appeal. 

 You could sneak a peek of the tattoo sleeve you knew decorated one of his arms, extending to the back of his hand. His piercings present dangly earrings that glint in the moonlight, his lip ring harkening back memories of its metal against your skin. His hair is longer than your traditional male, falling in soft, slightly wavy strands that frame his face handsomely. A few even curl over his forehead in a comma, a faint undercut adding a hint of roughness to his soft features, his strong brows mesmerizing. 

 You can’t help but scoff, despising yourself for finding him even remotely attractive. He just had to have a Herculean body with delicious muscles that hugged a tall torso, adding insult to injury. Had to have thick thighs and a thick chest and thick shoulders that could carry the entire world. 

 Absolutely unfair. 

 “Well… if it isn’t you.” You snark, ripping your eyes away from the damn traitor. His hesitant behaviour in the meeting earlier indicated that he knew about this marriage before you did, possibly even knew it was to you. “Did you know about this shit? Because if you did, I won’t hesitate to throw you overboard.” 

 You listen to Jungkook scoff, tonguing his lip ring. “Wow, says the girl who told me her name was Yeji before sticking her tongue down my throat the night we met. Nice to meet you by the way, Y/N.” 

 “Please,” you narrow your eyes at him, disgust sprawling all over your face. “I don’t remember you hating it, so stop acting wounded. And you didn’t tell me your name, anyway. I was under the impression we weren’t going to meet again… let alone marry each other.” 

 “Trust me, I want nothing to do with this either. And no, I had no clue my parent’s arranged a marriage until after our… night together. And I just found out it’s to you… of all fucking people.” The last part he whispers to himself, causing rage to simmer within you. 

 “Fuck you; you’re the same person who left my apartment like I was some trollop.” You venomously retort. “I can’t believe I have to marry you of all people.” 

 Jungkook visibly stands down at those words. You hate that your hurt is apparent enough for him to soften, his body less rigid. His eyes shimmer with the lunar rays of the moon, reflecting… sympathy. “Look, I’m sorry I did that, okay. That night was… overwhelming, and I never meant to make you feel—”

 “Forget it, I don’t want your pity.” You spit his way, tightly clutching your shawl over your body. The sea had grown colder, attacking your exposed skin in this thin dinner dress your mother chose. 

 Now you want nothing but to toss it into the ocean. 

 Jungkook sighs deeply as he pinches the bridge of his nose, distress written all over his face. He runs a hand through his hair, lost in his head. “Listen, I know you may hate me, Y/N, but we’ll have to make this work somehow. We have to—” 

 “Are you mad?” You genuinely question, laughing even. “Jungkook, we’re going to pretend like the other night never happened, and we’re not going to get married, end of story. We’re going to march right back into that room and tell our parents that this isn’t happening.” 

 Now it’s Jungkook’s turn to laugh dryly, gesturing towards you. “Are you mad? We can’t fucking avoid this. We have to get married, we have no other choice.” 

 “We do; we simply don’t.” You refuse to budge, tone growing in its malice. “Don’t you see this isn’t going to work? We barely know each other and made a mistake the other night. We are not getting married.” 

 Jungkook’s features contort in disbelief. “We have to, okay? You don’t fucking get it, Y/N. I need to marry you, I have too much riding on this stupid fucking marriage.” 

 A derisive laugh escapes you, unbothered. “And what could you possibly have riding on this marriage? What more could a little fucking rich boy like you need?” Your words cause Jungkook’s eyebrows to furrow, a wicked grin forming on your lips. “Yeah, I did a Google search on you the second I came out here. All you are is a spoiled playboy who’s had his daddy feed him with a silver spoon all his life, what more could you need?” 

 Jungkook locks his jaw tightly, his fists clenching and unclenching. You knew you recognized the bruises on his knuckles, the coarseness of his calluses running over your heated skin that night. He clearly boxed or performed some kind of exercise fighting, indicative of the way he squeezes his hands together to no doubt control his anger. He swallows harshly, hard enough his Adam’s apple bobs and draws unnecessary attention to his neck… a sexy neck. 

 Fuck. 

 “Wow, you’re like a fucking angry kitten. Unaware of her size in the world and yet still slashing her claws.” 

 “Shut the fuck up. I am not a kitten.” 

 He breathes a tight laugh as he eyes your height, clearly finding you ridiculous. So what if you’re shorter than him? You are not a docile kitten, you’re a lioness ready to pounce on anyone who fucks with you.

 Jungkook’s cadence is leveled, his voice condescendingly honeyed over as he folds his arms. “We have to get married, little kitten. We just have to, we have no choice.” 

 “Well, I don’t want to marry you.” 

 “And I don’t want to fucking marry you either!” Jungkook suddenly explodes, his eyes wild as emotion overtakes him. “But for fuck’s sake, I have to take over my father’s company! I have to marry someone and prove something to him! I have it the fucking worst, the worst, and yet I’m still trying. I’m still compromising.” 

 “You have it the worst?” Your voice cracks, tears brimming your tired eyes. “I was fucking ambushed by my mother, the woman I trust most in this fucking world! She betrayed me in front of your family, you can’t possibly have it worse than I do!” 

 “Please,” Jungkook laughs, his tone cutthroat. “You did a Google search on me? Well I did one on you, too. You’re the daughter of a wealthy lawyer couple with a famous law firm, you were fed everything on a silver spoon, too. How hard could you have it?” 

 Rage boils inside you, having half the mind to not march over and slap him across the face. He knows nothing about you, absolutely nothing. Indignation becomes your friend, gritting at him. “Says fucking you.” 

 Jungkook appears exhausted now, shaking his head. He sighs again, hands perching onto his hips as he peers up at the inky black sky. “Look, I don’t care if you don’t want to marry me. You’re the only way I’ll get my parents off my fucking back, so be a doll and just do what you’re told, yeah?” 

 Now’s the time you truly can’t stand the man, approaching him with angry steps to invade his personal space. “Don’t you dare call me a doll, and what? You’re just gonna use me like you did the other night? Leave me once your needs are satisfied?” 

 Jungkook becomes formidable then, shoving himself in your face with mere inches between your heated, angry bodies. You hate that you focus on his height in comparison to yours, large enough that he could easily manhandle you. He towers you, sexily so, and you use every ounce of your strength to fight back your arousal. 

 “If I recall correctly, you’re the one that had four orgasms that night, kitten, so whose needs were really satisfied?” 

 The rumble of his foreboding voice shoots electricity through you, shoving down the urge to remember those four wonderful orgasms he made explode in your body. His words still implant disgust within you, ready to shove the man overboard.

 Jungkook seems to notice the way you swallow, his lips curving smugly, eyes dancing with amusement. “And here I thought you forgot about that night.” 

 You grind your teeth, hating his stupidly gorgeous face and sexy smirk. “Still doesn’t give you the right to use marrying me for your own benefit, you bastard. I want nothing to do with you.” 

 “Like fucking wise, wifey.”

 “Don’t you dare call me that.”

 “Then don’t you dare call me a bastard.” 

 You’re at your limit, hanging on by a fucking thread as Jungkook refuses to drop your gaze. He stares dauntingly, challenging you with his unmoving look. He’s still in your space, the gap between you two small enough to be closed by a single step. Your body reacts stupidly, drawn to him like a moth to a flame. 

 And something about being burned intrigues you beyond explanation. 

 You huff in his face, shaking your head in controlled fury before shoving past him and marching towards the door, shooting him an alarming death glare. “Mark me, and mark me clearly, you mongrel. I’ll be damned before I wed you and share a fucking marriage bed with you. Goodbye.” 

 “And here’s the bed you’ll be sharing!”

 You gawk at the suite with wide eyes, unable to speak. It’s similar to the room you share with your mother, except this room doesn’t have two beds… but one. 

 One fucking king sized bed that belongs to Jungkook.

 “Mom, what is this?” You rudely question, ignoring your tone and the fact that Jungkook stands just behind you. “What do you mean I’m sharing his room?” 

 “Well, us parents just thought it’d be better for you two if you shared a room together, so we decided to place you in Jungkook’s. You’ll be married soon after all!” Your mother appears overly thrilled, smiling widely with her hands clasped together. You can’t believe her at all, shaking with resentment. 

 “Mom, you can’t make us share a room.” You fume, barely containing your temper. “You’ve already done enough, this is too much.” 

 “We don’t have much of an option, dear.” She coos, acting as though she hasn’t just entirely fucked up your life. “The Jeons suggested it and it’d be rude for us to not accept their hospitality. Besides, Jungkook’s a sweet boy, and I’d hurt him myself if he ever did anything to you.” 

 Your mother reaches towards Jungkook and cradles his cheek, her later warning bright in her eyes. Jungkook smiles politely, as though he wasn’t just up in your face and spitting poison half an hour ago. “Thank you, Mrs. Y/L/N. I can assure you I’ll treat your daughter with respect. Always.” 

 Your mother hums delightfully at that, flashing a look at you. You refuse to meet her eyes, emotions still too raw inside you. She sighs and bids a farewell, leaving you two with your dicks in your hands. 

 You simmer angrily; your things were already transported here so you couldn’t make the excuse of leaving for them—shit. You suppress a snarl, hating every second of this. 

 “So, what was that about not sharing my bed, kitten?” 

 You scoff, hissing at him. “Fuck off, and don’t call me petnames.” 

 “But it’s so fun.” 

 Patience will certainly become your best friend with this man, whipping your head around with a death glare. “I’ll sleep on the Godforsaken couch if I have to. I am not sleeping with you.” 

 Jungkook laughs, dry and curt. He makes it a statement to walk towards you, slow and calculative. He invades your space as he pins you with an amused look, eyes as dangerous as the sea itself.  “Don’t know if you’ve forgotten, kitten, but you’ve already slept with me.” 

 The pride in his smirk leaves you unhinged, shoving Jungkook away from you. “I remember it being the biggest mistake of my life.” 

 Jungkook laughs humourlessly this time, obviously not used to a sharp-tongued woman. His gaze harbours something you can’t quite distinguish, like he’s attempting to figure you out, entertained by solving whatever puzzle you appear to be to him. 

 You hate that he’s trying, indicative of his still unwavering will to try this marriage, to truly be bound to each other as husband and wife. You can’t understand it, can’t understand how the man is so eager to prove a point that he’s soiling one of the most precious things in human life; the bond of marriage. 

 It only makes you consider how your mother could do this to you, strap you to some random person’s son as though you’re her doll. For all she knew you were in a relationship, in love, goddamn handfast with someone else, but her refusal to divulge any information or inquire about your love life says enough. 

 She doesn’t fucking care.

 Your thoughts send you swimming in the doubts of your mind, negativity poisoning the waters. You slowly step away from Jungkook, your anger subsiding like a tide that reveals the rocks and shards of your sorrow when it pulls backs. 

 Her betrayal hurts more than anything. You had always been her partner in crime, her confidant, her person, but she kept something so vital, so life-changing from you… 

 “I can’t believe my mother would do this…” The words escape you without thought, flattering onto the bed behind you. “I trusted her. I’ve trusted her my whole life… and she didn’t even tell me.” 

 The vulnerability is evident in your cadence, vision focused on nothing but the hardwood floor. You can’t see Jungkook, who stands a few feet away from you, but distinguish the slight sympathy in his tone when he speaks. 

 “What about your father?” He asks carefully, his hands finding his pockets. “Did he know?”

 “He’s… sick.” You swallow, slapping concrete over your heart so it doesn’t crumble at the thought of your father. It’s a story you rarely tell, and one you’re certain you’ll never tell Jungkook. “Don’t ask about him, ever.” 

 Jungkook seems to get the memo, ending that topic. He sighs then, long and deep, before taking a few steps towards you. “I’m not even doing this for myself, you know.” He informs, his voice oddly soft, quiet. “I’m doing this for somebody else. Someone I care about.”

 Your eyes flicker up to him. “Who?” 

 “My little sister, Mari.”

 “You have a little sister?”

 “And you have a little brother.” He adds with a charming smile, taking a seat as furthest from you as he could. You’re unsure whether he did it for your sake or his. “Google search, remember? 

 You silently absorb that information, tasting it. “Where is she now?” 

 “Asleep. She didn’t sleep the night before because she was too excited about the trip.” 

 Your lips don’t know which emotion to convey, left merely blinking. “How could someone like you be doing this for your little sister?” 

 Jungkook puffs air through his nose as he tongues his cheek, leaning back on his palms. “Just because you don’t like me, doesn’t mean I’m a bad person.” 

 You weigh his words, chewing on them—they’re indicative of the exact predicament you’re in. He needs to be logical about this, there’s sincerely no way you two could agree to marriage when you don’t even know each other’s character, let alone favourite colour. “But that’s the point, Jungkook, I don’t like you nor do I know you well enough to even discern if you’re a bad person. Neither do you with me. Don’t you see that we can’t marry each other? It’s blasphemous.” 

 “It’s just a marriage, Y/N.” Jungkook leans back with a devil-may-care attitude, completely unbothered. “It doesn’t mean shit.”

 “It may not mean shit to you, but it does to me.” You snap back, harmed by his idiotic nonchalance. “I’d rather marry a man who doesn’t leave my fucking bed in the middle of the night like a thief.” 

 Jungkook scoffs, his stupid doe eyes cutting you deep. “Says the woman who seduced me like a siren.” He spits. “Trust me, I want nothing to do with you and your sorry-ass way of getting attention.” 

 Now you’re hooked up to a livewire, darting off the bed and accusingly pointing. “Please, you’re the one who craves attention.” You snarl. “Anyone could take one good look at you and know that you only party and act like an idiot for mommy and daddy’s attention.”

 “Shut the fuck up.” His eyes harden with clear fury; looks like you’ve hit a nerve. 

 “Well would you look at that? Seems like I’ve hit a bullseye.” You sweetly condescend. “I’m right, aren’t I? You act like a little tantrum-filled playboy to get mommy and daddy’s attention. What? The silver spoons aren’t enough?” 

 “I said,” Jungkook fumes, his jaw locked firm enough he could’ve been breaking a tooth. “Shut the fuck up, Y/N.” 

 What a fucking classic; another boy with anger and mommy and daddy issues, should you really be surprised? It’s a tale as old as time, and you have no energy to poke at it anymore. “I’d shut the fuck up if you put on your big boy pants and told your parents to fuck off.” 

 Jungkook’s face contorts with disbelief, shooting up from the bed. “Like you’re saying shit to your mother? You’re the same little girl sobbing in a corner just because your mommy made a decision without you. Why don’t you put on your big girl pants and tell your mother to fuck off?” 

 “Fuck you,” you growl, both words dripping with venom, eyes the very harbinger of death. “I’d rather eat grass than spend another minute with you.”

 “Then get used to the taste of dirt, kitten. You’re spending a whole lifetime with me.” 

 You can’t believe him, you can’t believe how insolent and reckless and idiotic he is. Spend an entire lifetime together? Is he insane? He’d rather spend a lifetime with a stranger than stand up to his parents? He's the very definition of a fool. 

 “What is wrong with you? How are you okay with spending a lifetime with a stranger? How are you okay with that?” 

 Jungkook smirks, wide and charming. “Well, we’re not exactly strangers, are we, kitten?” 

 “Don’t fucking call me that, and stop brining up that night.” 

 “Why?” Jungkook asks with almost fascination, entertained by your denial. “Why do you want to forget it, Y/N? Is there something about that night that bothers you?” 

 He crosses the room to you now, his each step fluid, methodical. His approaching only makes you retreat in response, his aura enough to corrupt yours. His very existence alters the workings of yours, leaving your heart racing and your breath hitching and your skin heating. It made no sense, made no sense beyond being physically attracted to the man… 

 Oh fucking hell; you are ravenously attracted to this man. 

 And with him approaching you like this, with his eyes intent on you, his gaze hungry, you’re left nothing but to be his prey, succumbing to him. 

 “Tell me, Y/N.” He purrs, taking his last step before standing mere inches from you, scavenging the depths of your soul with his piercing gaze. “Tell me, why do you want to forget it? Why do you want to forget what our bodies felt like against each other?” 

 His words surge memories through you, seductive, bitter, sensual, powerful memories you’d much rather purge. You stand your ground despite shaking with arousal, despite your nipples hardening against your dress as you meet the man’s fiery gaze. “Because you were a mistake.” 

 Jungkook laughs that laugh that’s quick and dry, his voice deeper and richer than an aged bottle of Whiskey. “Was I really a mistake, Y/N? Do you really regret what happened between us?” He invades your space so much your ass nudges the vanity behind you, squeaking. His sex appeal oozes out of him as he stands this close, suffocating you, leaning down to your height until he cages you between himself and the vanity, hands gripping the edge either side of your hips.

 You swallow harshly, hormones on high alert. “I-I do. I regret it.” 

 Again, one of his laughs, making it a statement to tongue his lip ring, tempting you with his tongue. You unconsciously watch the hypnotic movement, recalling exactly what it felt like to kiss him; majestic, Dionysian, ecstasy. 

 He dares graze his mouth along your ear, causing goosebumps to freckle your skin. “Do you really, Y/N? Because I think,” he breathes hotly, electrocuting your body. He chuckles at your jolt, voice dropping an octave. “I think that night bothers you because you hate how much you want me.” 

 Disgusted by his accuracy, you become angry, not even understanding this yourself. “Shut up.” 

 “Why, Y/N? Because I’m right?” He chides, voice utterly spell-binding. “Because you remember the taste of me? Because you remember my hands roaming your body? My lips worshiping your skin? Because you remember the feeling of me inside you, and never wanting it to end?” 

 You’re an idiot, you’re an absolute fool for not listening to your head and shoving him off, calling him every repulsive name in the English language and demanding that your mother cut off this marriage. You’re an idiot, because your body is reacting too easily to this man, falling right into the trap he so effortlessly crafts for you. 

 You want to resist, want to break this spell, want to tie up every memory of that night and store it away in a box, but you can’t. That night infiltrates your mind like a dam being let loose, remembering his coarse hands on your body, the cherry taste of his lip balm, how he speared you open with the sheer size of him, bigger than anything you’ve ever felt. 

 You can’t stomach this, overheating by the second. Your head feels light and your pussy can’t help but throb, hating his heat, his proximity, his fucking scent. “Jungkook… shut up.” 

 “God, the way you say my name.” He practically groans, his breath fanning across your cheek as he levels himself with you, lips only separated by mere inches of space. “I should’ve told you that night, could’ve heard you moan it.” 

 Oh, he’s dangerous, he’s hazardous and calamitous and fucking dangerous. The temptation of him is stronger than your will, using every weapon in your arsenal to fight him. “Jungkook…” 

 “Tell me, Y/N.” He rasps, as overheated as you, breathing hard. “How long did it take? For my hickeys to disappear? For my cologne to stop lingering on your skin? In your hair? How long will it take for you to forget the memory of me touching you? Kissing you? Moving inside you?”

 You’re a goner, you’re so close to diving off the deep end, insane with lust. You hate that he’s dictating this situation, hate the power he’s exercising with that stupidly unwavering confidence. Two could play this game, and you need to remind him you’re not the kitten he keeps calling you.

 You grab his collar without thinking, digging your claws into the expensive material. You tug him so close you could’ve been kissing him—his eyes widen in shock when you sneer. “And what about you, playboy? Do you like remembering that night because of how much you liked it? Because you can’t forget the way I moaned? The way my nails dug into your back and scratched you raw? The way I pulsed around you when I wanted more?” 

 Now it’s Jungkook’s turn to pant, chest rising and falling with his faltering self-control. You hear how hard he grips the vanity behind you, creaking under his grip. You challenge him nonetheless, ready to relish in the way this man snaps. 

 But he merely smiles, as shaky as it is, and accepts your challenge. “Seems like we’re back to remembering that night, then.” 

 You shake your head, scoffing at him. “Face it, Jeon. You say you don’t like me but you’re so ready to marry me because you can’t help but want me after that night, and you fucking hate it.” 

 He exhales haughtily, his smile as wicked as the devil himself. “Then why don’t you face it, too, kitten?” He breathes, lips hovering just above yours, touching them. “You don’t want to marry me because you’ve been aching for me ever since, and you hate knowing what’ll happen if we spend a lifetime together.” 

 God, you’re seconds from shoving him against your mouth. He’s got you so hot and bothered you’re squishing your pathetic thighs together to stop your pathetic essence from leaking out of your pathetic cunt. You can’t help but breathe into his mouth, mere centimeters from kissing, his hips pinning you to the vanity. 

 You swear you feel the ghost of his length for a millisecond, and you’re close to transforming into a wild animal. His eyes dart between your lashes and your mouth, clearly losing his sanity the same way you are. The heat between you is searing, the tension so palpable you could cut it with a knife, only the modicum of respect you have for yourselves keeping you from risking it all. 

 That very thought sucks you back into reality, recalling the situation you’re in with this man, the gravity of your future. This isn’t going to be a fairytale with a happy ending, nor is Jungkook ever going to be your knight in shining armour or Prince Charming you’ll fall in love with. He’s the bane of your existence, an impertinent bastard that isn’t worth selling your happiness for. All he wants is to marry you to benefit himself. 

 It has nothing to do with how he feels about you, and all about what you can do for him.  

 The very reminder of his stupidly sexy face saying those words makes you hurtle him off you, watching him stumble back a few steps. He shakes his head as though he were lifted from a trance, swallowing as his eyes meet yours. You level your breathing and snarl at him, teeth bared. “You can take the bed, I’ll sleep on the couch.” 

 You don’t give him an opportunity to speak before you’re searching for your night bag, loaded with everything you need for your night routine. You salvage your suitcase for the Godforsaken thing but can’t find it, exasperated when you remember that your mother was using it this morning, so of course it wasn’t here. 

 You storm out of your shared room with Jungkook and stomp all the way down to your mother’s, using your keycard to open the door. You were glad to find it vacant of her, rummaging through the bathroom for the bag. You find it, but snatch other things she was sharing with you, far too angry with her to lend her anything anymore. 

 This one task alone eats up over 30 minutes, nearly exploding at just how many of your things you shared with your mother, and yet she couldn’t share this one fucking thing with you—the fate of your future.

 As anger becomes your old friend, you march back to your new room, swinging the door open. You expect to harp on Jungkook and his idiocy again, having concocted seamless arguments to counter his ridiculous notion of marriage the entire walk back, but are shocked as you enter the room. 

 Jungkook has changed into his nightwear, most likely a pair of shorts with a white t-shirt. You can’t exactly tell, because he’s tugged a throw blanket over himself, his hand resting on his taut stomach as the other remains wedged underneath his head… with his long legs nearly dangling off the couch. 

 Your mouth opens and closes as you find the empty, untouched bed, attempting to manufacture a sentence. Saying anything seems like a moot point now, though, considering his breathing is stable enough to suggest he’s sleeping. 

 You shake your head, so utterly confused by him. You throw away any trifling thoughts and quietly prepare yourself for bed, careful not to wake him. You despise that his presence remains something you’re careful about, or that your kindness-deprived brain keeps considering the benevolence of his one action. 

 Labelling it as a stupid whim, you tuck yourself into the unoccupied bed and stare at the ceiling, wondering what on God’s green earth you’re going to do about Jungkook, and considering the hell you’d rather perish in than ever marry him. 

a/n: y’all forgive me if it acc doesn’t only take around 24 hours to sail from seoul to hong kong on a direct cruise i swear i searched up the nautical miles and did the loose math if the boat doesn’t dock at any ports. I SWEAR I’M NOT DUMB so if i’m wrong forgive me <33

[kimtaegis]

sassmaster park jimin, continued

(cr. dwellingsouls, namuspromised, qdeoks)

[jeonqkooks]

our beloved summer | jjk (07)

You made a vow to hate Jeon Jungkook ever since he packed up and left you without a single explanation, but when he shows up at your door after years of radio silence, it turns out that maybe your resolve isn’t as strong as you thought.

pairing: producer!jungkook x songwriter!reader genre/warnings: exes au, fluff, angst, eventual smut, swearing, mentions of oc's mother because we know girlie is hella traumatized, mentions of drinking, mentions of an almost physical fight, abandonment issues, jk forgets to practice safe driving for 2 seconds, and uhmmm kissing 🤫, anddd that cliffhanger? 👀 rating: 18+ (minors dni) word count: 10.8k note (1): this is the longest it has taken me to update obs and i do feel pretty guilty about that. but it's finally here now and this is one of the chapters that i'm the most nervous about posting. massive thanks to @daechwitatamic and @wintaerbaer for beta-ing this for me or else i would've screamed cried thrown up and scrapped the whole thing, and to @jeonwiixard for being a wonderful cheerleader as i was writing this, and to everyone in my beloved obs discord server for always being so sweet and kind and putting a smile on my smile every day since the server was created. also to my sunshine ☀︎ for introducing me to the song mentioned below bc HELLO is it not just one of the most obs coded songs ever. love you all my babies <3

series masterpost / playlist ; moodboards ; taglist join our OBS discord server ✨

as always, i’d appreciate any thoughts or comments you may have, and please drop a like and/or reblog if you enjoy reading ♡

Somewhere in the multiverse There's a me and you that works We never fuck it up We're out there still in love Somewhere in the multiverse Maybe that's enough

multiverse - Maya Manuele ft. PEMRBOKE

Sometimes, whenever you look up at the moon at night, you wonder if Jungkook is doing the same thing.

Even when you fall out of love with someone, it still hurts. It hurts because you once loved them so much it felt like the sky would collapse if you couldn’t be with them. It hurts because the love wasn’t taken from you, but rather it started slipping away on its own, more and more each day until you realize you’re holding onto nothing when there once was everything.

You can’t say that you’re too familiar with that kind of hurt though. You’ve never fallen out of love before.

You don’t think Jungkook is too familiar with it either, at least not when he left you.

You wonder if he thinks about you from time to time and gets sad. You think he does, because you know that he loved you. Something ended for him too. The memories that you shared were his memories too.

You hope that it’s painful for him whenever thoughts of you cross his mind, because that would mean that he cares. That a part of him still cares.

And if he still cares, then he might come back.

Despite the front that you try to parade around, there is a part of you that will always leave your heart vacant for him, regardless of whether or not he would return. It’s a scary thought, one that you would rather avoid at all costs, one that says there will be no one that you love more than you loved Jungkook. Maybe there can’t be another person that you will love at all.

You can come back quietly, like the wind slipping through the crack I leave in the window at night; or you can announce your return resoundingly like a sudden downpour quenching the summer heat. I don’t care. I kept your side of the bed empty and warm, waiting for you to come back. Hoping that you would come home.

[08:47] Yoongi: sure you don’t want me to drive you there? [08:48] Yoongi: i can pick you up in 30 [08:52] You: positive 🤧 i told you i already booked the train. it’s only 4 hours away [08:53] You: i’ll survive, yoongs [08:55] Yoongi: did you not watch Train To Busan? [08:56] You: ? [08:57] Yoongi: what if there’s a zombie apocalypse [09:00] You: yoongi if there’s a zombie apocalypse, how is your CONVERTIBLE supposed to keep me safe [09:01] Yoongi: i’ll put the roof up [09:02] You: stop talking [09:02] You: please stop talking. [09:03] Yoongi: 😡😡😡 [09:03] You: 😇 [09:03] You: gotta get dressed now though. i’ll see u when i get back? :) [09:05] Yoongi: fine [09:06] Yoongi: safe travels. text me when you get there :)

You plop onto your bed with a sigh, glancing at the bag that’s already packed and sitting near your wardrobe, lonely. You stay like that for a while, contemplating whether or not you should bail at the very last minute.

It was not on your bingo card that you’d be here, agonizing over your ex-boyfriend’s brother’s wedding. Nope. Absolutely no one saw it coming.

For fuck’s sake, why would they invite you to a wedding? A celebration of love? It feels like you’re being forced onto a prank show, just waiting for someone to jump out and scream in your face.

You learned that the wedding was for close friends and family only, so it would be a relatively small event, which makes it even more confusing why you were also asked to join. Maybe the world is changing too rapidly and you’re just a little old-fashioned for it, but you really don’t understand why your ex-boyfriend’s family would want you there.

Taehyung and Jimin were invited too; they’re Jungkook’s best friends after all. They’re practically an extension of the family, Jungkook’s brothers by choice. But Taehyung doesn’t come back from his work trip until the day of the wedding, and Jimin… Well, he just doesn’t want to go to a Busan wedding in the middle of winter.

So why are you even going?

You could’ve declined. Said you couldn’t attend because the invitation came in so late. Made up a work trip or a family emergency. There’s a plethora of excuses you could’ve used.

Or you could’ve simply said no. That would’ve been perfectly fine too. No one would even need to ask why.

But maybe it was because his mother had customized the invite with her own handwriting in the back. You would’ve missed it if you hadn’t spent hours meticulously studying the card like someone was going to quiz you. It wasn’t anything special - just We hope to see you there - but you think you’d feel really bad to decline after she’d made the extra effort to ask you to come.

When you told Yoongi that you would be attending Jungkook’s brother’s wedding, he didn’t seem upset. Still cool as a cucumber. Although if he was bothered by the announcement, you don’t think he would’ve let it show. It did take him a minute to take it in, but then he just pecked your cheek and asked if you could bring a plus-one. You both knew that you wouldn’t even if that was an option.

Pushing your body off the bed, you drag yourself to the bathroom to splash some water on your face. Then sunscreen. Then change into the clothes you’d already picked out last night. Your train doesn’t leave for another hour and fifteen minutes, but you want to be there at least twenty minutes early just in case. This is one of your only good habits.

You rub your eyes when you finally haul yourself outside, thinking you must still be dreaming because what is Jungkook’s car doing here?

You blink a few times, expecting the vehicle to disappear in a puff of white smoke.

Spoiler alert: It doesn’t.

The car is in front of you, but the man is nowhere to be found.

You stand there dumbfoundedly, contemplating whether you should wait it out for a little bit to see if he’s actually here. He comes running up to you a couple minutes later, holding two paper cups in his hands, one of them a chai latte. A memory you’d buried long ago comes rushing to the surface. It’s too early for you to be feeling.

“Hi,” he says, his warm breath coming out in a huff of smoke in the crisp morning air.

“Hi?” you mutter dumbly when he trades the bag in your hand for the drink. There’s a moment where you’re genuinely baffled, wondering if this is a memory reel playing right before your eyes. This is your Jungkook, wearing that same old smile whenever he used to come bounding up your dorm building so you could walk to the library together, where he would hang out with you during your shift if he didn’t have classes. “What are you doing here?”

You don’t remember telling him what time your train was, so he’d probably badgered it out of Taehyung or Jimin somehow.

“I thought I could drive us there,” he says. “I texted you about it.”

Well, that explains it. You don’t bother with his dozens of messages anymore. “Oh, uhm, I already booked the train.”

This doesn’t seem to faze him at all. “Free cancellation up to 15 minutes before departure.” Jungkook grins, clearly eager despite your obvious reluctance. It’s too early for this, whatever the hell this is.

When you told him that you had RSVP’d yes to the invitation, he was surprised that you even knew about the wedding. He even seemed nervous that day.

“What if I’d already left?” you ask.

He blinks, then stammers like a confused child. It’s cute, and you have to mentally slap yourself over the head for even thinking that.

“Then I’d go after you.”

How? you scoff internally. Unrealistic.

Regardless, not even an hour ago, you were declining Yoongi’s offer to drive you there. Now, you’re standing here, in front of your ex-boyfriend, contemplating whether or not you should go with him.

“Let’s go,” he says after a minute. “We don’t wanna be stuck in traffic.”

“I haven’t said yes.” Yet. “It’s a 4-hour drive.”

You don’t have to clarify what you mean. He understands it.

You both just stare at each other for a moment, the tension suddenly thickening with every passing second. Four hours on the road. Four hours alone in a car with Jungkook. That’s about two hundred minutes more than you think you can handle.

It’s like he can see right through you. “Don’t think about it,” he says, voice dropping lower. “It’s just a weekend. Everything will still be here for you to think about when we get back.”

In your head, it translates to: All of our shit will still be here when we get back. You can keep being mad at me then.

You hope that’s not true. You hope that when you get back, the things that keep you up at night will simply cease to exist. That in the two days you’ll be gone, a genie will materialize and solve all your problems for you.

Either way, it’s probably for the best that you aren’t mean to him this weekend. You’re stuck with him for the next 48 hours or so; it’ll only stress you out even more if you channel all of your energy into tormenting him. Besides, you’re already the ex girlfriend who has no place alongside his family. You don’t want to be the dark cloud raining on everyone’s parade too.

Maybe you’d already made up your mind when you let him take the bag from you.

For the first half of the drive, you were unconscious.

It’s a useless superpower that you have, the ability to fall asleep anywhere - literally anywhere, including in the passenger seat of your ex-boyfriend’s car while he escorts you to his hometown. Melatonin gummies manufacturers hate you.

You could’ve slept the whole drive, but around the second hour mark, you were startled awake when your body jostled forward, straining against your seatbelt uncomfortably. There was an arm trying to hold you back, despite the seatbelt having done its job well.

“Fuck,” Jungkook curses before he turns toward you, worry written all over his face. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, are you okay?”

You blink, still half asleep. “I’m okay,” you say. The minivan that Jungkook almost rear-ended continues on its merry way, carrying what seems to be a family of five. “What happened?”

He sighs, his outstretched arm retreating back to his side. “I got a bit distracted, that’s all.”

You take in your surroundings then. There’s barely any other cars in sight, no tacky billboard that sticks out like a sore thumb to catch your attention. There’s just the freeway, stretching on empty for all you can see.

“By what?” you ask.

“Nothing,” he says. “Go back to sleep. I’ll wake you when we get there.”

See, you have the superpower of falling asleep anywhere and everywhere, but once you’ve been woken up, it’s not as easy to fall back asleep.

That, and the fact that you’re hungry as shit.

You open your mouth, about to say no, about to offer to drive the rest of the way if Jungkook is tired, but your stomach doesn’t let you get a word out. It growls, filling the space of the car, making you want to chuck yourself out the fucking window and run all the way back to the city. This wouldn’t have happened had you taken the train, because if you had, there would’ve been food services and no one would be subject to hearing your stomach sing like it’s chewing out a small puppy in there. Life is nothing but an endless pit of embarrassment and despair.

Your arms hold themselves tighter around your frame, practically squeezing into your abdomen as you will it to please, please, please be quiet. Jungkook stares at you, and you can tell by the teeny tiny quirk of his lips that he’s trying to bite back a smile. He’s relaxed, but there’s still something hesitant on his face. It takes him a minute before he finally throws the question out.

“Do you want to go to that guksu place that we used-” that we used to go to, “you know the place. The one that’s right off the freeway?”

The sun is out today. The sky unfolds endlessly just outside the window, coloring blue everything your eyes land on. There are strips of clouds scattered here and there, like delicate strokes of white paint on an azure canvas. Even the winter cold has to soften.You bite into your cheek. Don’t think, that’s what he had told you.

Not much about this quaint restaurant has changed. The quirky decorations are still where they used to be, the windows still the same unique stained glass that you never came across anywhere else. You remember the elderly woman who runs the place, even if she doesn’t have a single clue who you are. The golden retriever you used to fawn over every time you stopped by, sits quietly by the door and watches the cars pass by, his fur now graying as weariness begins to settle into those old bones.

You would’ve been displeased if the place had changed, because, well, you don’t like change. But then again, this familiarity is dangerous. It tricks you into thinking that everything is still the same, even you and him. Deludes you into believing that you’re still in love and that he’ll walk out of here holding your hand.

Regardless, the first spoonful has you biting back a smile.

“How is it?” Jungkook asks.

It makes you feel all warm inside, and then a little sad, nostalgic.

“Tastes just the same,” you tell him simply.

“Hmm.”

He lets you satisfy your hunger in peace. It’s the least he can do anyway.

There’s a wall near the back of the restaurant, where people could hang polaroids of themselves and cute handwritten notes. You think if you dig through the hundreds of photos scattered across the space, you might be able to find you and Jungkook there, if you two haven’t already been thrown out long ago to make room for new memories.

He pays for your food after you’re both finished, despite some protesting on your side. As you leave, you’re busy thinking that if you could have a moment to marvel at that far-back wall of memories, if you could find a photo of you and him there, you would probably sneak it into your coat pocket.

It’d be another thing to add to your pile of Jungkook memorabilia - the old clothes in the back of your closet, the stack of dusty polaroids at the bottom of your drawer. You wonder if he keeps anything of yours, maybe an old t-shirt that you forgot to take back. It’s probably unlikely, but a girl can hope.

You miss the way Jungkook glances back, thinking the exact same thing.

You survive the rest of the drive with more ease, probably because of the food. You spend most of the remaining 2 hours leaning against the window, humming to the radio, closing your eyes but not really sleeping. You even forget to be nervous about what is to come.

That is, until the car pulls up to the venue.

It’s absolutely gorgeous, and a lot bigger than you imagined - a modern beach house overlooking the waters. It’s not as extravagant as one would expect to see when they come to a wedding, but considering the small crowd in attendance, this is more than enough. You see people rush in and out of the place even from far away - planners, caterers, the bridesmaids and groomsmen, probably.

You feel a bit comforted just watching this. His family seems to be doing a lot better than before. It’s nice to know.

You barely make it out of the car before someone calls your name, and pulls you into a hug that knocks the wind out of you. Although, when you catch the scent of her hair, you instantly know who it is.

Parents usually have a scent that’s distinct to only their kids, a scent so cozy and homely that no perfume can ever mask. You can only describe your mom’s scent with a feeling, specifically the feeling of your chest tightening, tingling with a bittersweetness that you never found elsewhere. 

Strangely enough, Jungkook’s mother has always made you feel the opposite. She makes you feel relieved to be in her embrace, like she accepts you for who you are even if all you are to her, at the end of the day, is a stranger.

You hug her back awkwardly, hesitantly, in front of Jungkook’s dad, his brother Junghyun, and a girl you don’t know. You assume that she’s the bride-to-be, the main character whom this weekend revolves around. Sooji, you remember that was the name on the wedding invitation.

You get choked up suddenly, eyes turning glassy though you quickly blink it away. You’re not sure if you’ve had someone be so happy to see you. Bypassers might even think that you just found the cure for cancer.

For a second there, you wonder if your mere presence has ever made your mother this overjoyed.

You look at Jungkook for help, silently asking him to rescue you. Who else are you supposed to turn to if not him?

He understands that look. “Okay, mom,” he says, entangling her arms from you with ease, “Y/N’s tired from the drive. Let’s let her rest, yeah? I’ll show her the room.”

She ignores her son. “Honey,” she says, brushing your hair away from your face so she could see you better. “Thank you for coming.” She used to insist that you call her “mom”, or at least by her first name because “Mrs. Jeon” was too formal for someone she considered family.

You now have to opt for the latter, because “mom” isn’t an option for you anymore.

“Thank you for inviting me, Mrs. Jeon,” you tell her with a smile. You’re not really sure what else to say, but it makes you a little sad just calling her that.

She opens her mouth before closing it again, seemingly about to jokingly scold you for the formality before she recognizes the bittersweet look in your eyes. She just smiles at you then. There’s not much to be done about it.

You don’t know if anyone else sees how the moment is weighed down. Probably not. Maybe it’s just you and her who share this sentiment.

Jungkook doesn’t wait for his mom anymore. Sons, typical. He wedges himself between the two of you like a bulldozer and leads you inside the house. 

Even though all you have is an overnight bag, Jungkook carries it for you all the way up to your room, which is only down the hall from his. Then he disappears pretty quickly afterward, saying something about his best man duties and putting out fires. He seems apologetic as he tells you this, but it’s not like you’re expecting him to babysit you all weekend.

You bore yourself to death in your room for a while, before you remember you have to text Yoongi to let him know you got here safely. Though, you stop short of telling him that it was Jungkook who drove you here. It’s trivial enough, right? You don’t want Yoongi to feel bad over nothing. You do, however, inform Taehyung and Jimin when you text them about it, to which Jimin only responds with a preemptively disapproving ‘Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.’

When you get too stir-crazy, you wander outside, hoping to explore the beach before it gets dark and colder. You try to stay out of everyone’s way, because a good guest is a quiet guest. You seem to be doing a good job. No one notices you, not even Jungkook’s mom but that’s because she’s the person you actively want to avoid the most. You don’t know what you’d even say to her if she gets you alone.

Everything is hectic, as one can probably imagine when it comes to wedding preparations. You haven’t had anyone close to you get married yet, so it’s safe to say that you’re pretty much clueless about all of this. You wonder what it’ll be like when your big day comes around, if you even ever get married. You haven’t thought about it in a long time. Why would you? You don’t really have a reason to think about this. It’s much easier to picture Taehyung’s or Jimin’s wedding day than your own.

Your opinion on having kids still remains the same, and you were never one of those girls who daydreamed about having a big and extravagant wedding, but it’s not such a bad idea to ponder about. You still think marriage is a scary thing - it’s one of the biggest commitments a person could ever make - but you’re not entirely opposed to getting married. 

Why are you even mulling over this? Your time might never even come.

When you round the corner to get the steps that would lead you down to the beach, you run into Sooji and a woman holding a thick binder - must be a wedding planner. You give Jungkook’s future sister-in-law an awkward smile in greeting, which she returns much more gracefully before she tells the woman that she’ll be with her in a minute.

So now you’re stuck here, about to make small talk with a person you have never met before, and will likely never see again. Great. 

“Hi,” you say, extending a hand. “I haven’t had the chance to introduce myself. I’m Y/N.”

“I’m Sooji,” she replies warmly as she shakes your hand, and you have to stop yourself from being a little weirdo and thinking about how silky her hair looks up close. “You’re Jungkook’s… friend, right?”

You purse your lips before nodding with a chuckle. The pause tells you that she knows, and you wouldn’t be surprised if she’s uncomfortable having you here. 

“I’m sorry if this is weird. You probably don’t want a complete stranger at your wedding.”

Sooji shakes her head instantly, waving her hands around to dismiss your apology. “Please, it’s totally fine. Junghyun’s mom talked to me about it before we sent out the invites. I wouldn’t have agreed if I was really bothered. Don’t worry about it, seriously.”

“Why did you agree?” you ask, trying to sound as polite as possible. “You don’t know who I am.”

“I guess I was curious.” She shrugs, before laughing lightly as she says, “I used to think you weren’t real.”

“Huh?”

“She talks about you constantly. Never in front of Jungkook, of course. But she’s really fond of you, and you probably already know that doesn’t happen very often. She really does see you like a daughter. She made you sound too good to be true.”

You’re not sure how to respond to that. His mom still thinks about you, still talks about you after all this time. You’re just his ex-girlfriend, but she considers you her family. You don’t know what to do with this information nor the way it pinches your heart.

“I-” You purse your lips, fumbling with the responses in your head. You settle on a light laugh, because Sooji can probably tell that you’re struggling with the words too. “I have to be honest. I don’t know what to say to that.”

“You don’t have to say anything. I just thought you should know that you’re still very much loved here.” She gives you a kind smile, and it looks like she wants to tell you something else but decides against it in the end. Sooji’s eyes land somewhere behind you before she points in that general direction. “I have to go take care of an issue with the flowers, but look, Jungkook is here. Why don’t you ask him to show you around?”

And then she’s already off. Overall, what a… strange interaction.

You turn around to see Jungkook standing near one of the entrances to the house. As you watch him talk to someone - a bridesmaid, you assume, or just one of the other guests - you try not to think about the fact that there’s a stirring sensation in your stomach, and that it only intensifies when she throws her head back in a pretty laugh, a perfectly manicured hand landing on his arm like he’s the most charming person she’s ever met. 

You don’t give it a name, don’t label it green in color even though you’re blue and he’s golden sunshine. You don’t acknowledge that it’s a feeling, because doing so would make it real and there are certain truths that you’d rather delude yourself into thinking are lies.

When Jungkook’s eyes catch yours and he cuts off the woman mid-sentence with a curt excuse me, you don’t acknowledge that feeling either, but it’s warm and it blooms in your chest as he makes his way to you. It’s something victorious, something that tickles your ribs.

He comes to you like you’re a destination he’s been waiting all his life to reach, and you certainly, adamantly don’t acknowledge the spectacularly dizzying feeling that swallows you whole when he places a gentle hand on your arm, his voice soft as he says, “There you are. I was looking for you.”

The familiarity, it’s catastrophic.

“I was just walking around,” you tell him. “There’s not a lot to do here. I was bored.”

“You have me,” he says. Probably not in that way, but you’d like to think that’s how he means it. “I don’t have any more fires to put out. What do you want to do now?”

You glance over your surroundings, still set on your original plans. You wanted to go alone, but you suppose you can let him accompany you. You check the time on your phone before asking, “Can we go down to the beach? I wanna see if we can catch the sunset.”

You used to do this whenever you came here to visit - walk along the beach, hand in hand, sunlight in your hair and the cool breeze holding you tight in the afterglow.

The keyword here is “used to”. Now, you have to stuff your hands in your pockets just so you don’t reach for him every time you shiver.

It’s late enough in the afternoon for you to see the moon faintly shine against a blue and orange backdrop. Sun and moon, together in the same frame. It feels symbolic somehow. You’re not really sure.

“The moon looks like an egg,” Jungkook observes astutely, taking casual strides next to you. It makes you burst into easy laughter, which makes him laugh with you too. You stop walking when you reach what you think is a good spot to watch the sky. 

“Let’s sit here for a bit,” you say. It’s not the greatest idea - sitting idly by would only make you colder - but you just want to stop and look at the sunset. Once you’re seated in the sand, you respond to his moon remark, “That’s true, y’know. NASA said so.”

“Yeah,” he says, settling down beside you, “you made me read that.”

You’d forgotten about it, and you didn’t think that he’d remember. It’s freezing cold and the moon looks like an egg, but you’re not thinking, and you feel safe. Nothing can hurt you here, or at least that’s what you’d like to tell yourself.

You wrap your arms around yourself to keep from shivering, but you still shiver anyways.

“Are you cold?” he asks.

“A little,” you admit. “I should’ve worn a thicker sweater. But it’s o-”

He doesn’t let you finish the sentence, just smoothly takes off his jacket to put it around your shoulders.

You put your hands atop his to stop him. When you touch him, there’s an electric tingle that almost makes you flinch. He feels warm, still resembling a human furnace. 

“No, you don’t have t-”

“Take the jacket, Y/N,” he says. “It’s just a jacket.”

The jacket smells like him. It only makes you want to crawl further into the warmth.

He seems more self-assured here, that’s what you notice. More like the version of himself that he used to be. Confident, sometimes borderline cocky. Annoying but oddly endearing, you came to love that about him.

His relaxed demeanor is understandable. You’re merely a visitor here, while this is his homeground. 

“I’m curious about something,” he says after a while.

“Okay.”

“What’s the deal with Wednesdays?” he asks. 

“You know how they say bad things come in threes?” You purse your lips, thinking it over, feeling something bitter in your mouth as you recall the events that led to this. “My parents got divorced on a Wednesday. I moved out of mom’s house on a Wednesday. And…” You hold your knees close to your chest as you hesitate to utter this last part, “we broke up on a Wednesday.”

You see the exact moment Jungkook mentally slaps himself, paling a couple shades as he tongues his cheek, not expecting his question to inadvertently lead back to this. It wasn’t your intention to guilt trip him. It was true that he dumped you on a Wednesday, but you don’t want the mood to turn sour, to have to mull over this again. Like he said, it will still be there for you to worry about when you get back. You’re not looking forward to returning to a shitshow, but what you’d hate even more is to tarnish the memories of this place just because you can’t keep from being vindictive for not even a weekend.

“I was born on a Wednesday too, so I guess bad things come in fours sometimes,” you continue, chuckling to yourself humorlessly.

A frown appears on his face almost instantaneously. “What is that supposed to mean?”

You shrug. Jungkook turns his body toward you, which makes you spare him a glance before you return your gaze to the horizon. His face is so serious that it’s almost funny. “Y/N,” he presses. “Why would you say that?”

“C’mon, it’s a joke. I was just being self-deprecating. Lighten up.”

“Why are you talking like that?”

“Like what? Contrary to popular belief, I don’t walk around with a thundercloud over my head all the time,” you laugh lightly. “I figured if there was a day to be nice to you, it should be today. And tomorrow, I guess.”

“This is you being nice?”

Funny how just a few weeks ago, you were fighting with him and calling him a hypocrite. Now, you’re sitting together, watching the sun set, trying not to be mean to him.

“I’m not picking a fight with you,” you say. “This is nice enough.”

“It’s not even my wedding.”

“Okay.” You glance at him again, letting words flow without a single thought. “I’ll be even nicer to you on your wedding day then.”

You don’t know where that even came from, but something aches the very second the words leave your mouth. The thought of him getting married one day makes you just nauseous, even though you always knew that it was a possibility. It might even be inevitable.

You clear your throat, waving the sullen feeling away. Your body shivers then, even after the added warmth of his jacket. Maybe you’re not shivering because of the cold anymore.

He doesn’t say anything, but you can feel his eyes linger on the side of your face. The both of you keep tiptoeing around an elephant that follows you wherever you go. 

You hug your knees close to your chest, watching the blue sky melt into the golden horizon, splattered with ribbons of cotton candy clouds.

You want to scooch closer to him and have him wrap his arm around your shoulders. This isn’t the spot where you used to draw your names in the sand, enveloped in a giant heart like two lovesick kids, but wouldn’t it be nice to imagine that it is?

“I was always really happy here,” you mumble to yourself.

You were, truly. This city was your pocket of hope, your piece of peace.

Being here brings back so many memories.

It’s the same feeling you get every time you pass by somewhere you used to live. The nostalgia of walking down the same road you used to walk every day until your shoes wore out. The familiarity of your surroundings. The bittersweetness of looking into a past you cannot hold anymore, of remembering the person you were at a certain period in your life, of knowing the things you do now that you didn’t back then.

You long for things you cannot change.

Nostalgia only grows stronger with time, you can always count on that.

He hums in agreement, before admitting quietly, “I miss you.” One pulls, the other pushes. The water wavers, like it’s touched by his words, simple but earnest. You’re touched too, somewhere in your heart, where you know you should be writing someone else’s name now.

Should?

“You’re pushing it,” you say softly.

“I know.”

You look at him. Maybe it’s because you’re back in the city that holds only good memories of you two. Maybe you’re hypnotized by the way the pink and purple hues kiss his side profile, making him feel like a fever dream and not someone you loved. Maybe it’s the cold, making you yearn for any source of warmth. But instead of returning his sentiment, you say, “It’ll pass.”

He meets your eyes. There’s something pleading in his gaze. All things pass eventually. Time moves forward, people move on. Bad things will pass sooner or later. Your worst heartbreak, your most arduous trials, your saddest moments, they will all pass.

And good things… good things will have to pass too, whether you like it or not.

Your fingers twitch from where they’re still holding onto your body. You itch to reach for his hand. You don’t tell him what he wants to hear, even though here’s a part of you that wants to say it back. In a better world, you would be telling him I love you too, instead of having to suppress an I miss you too.

“All things have to pass eventually. This will too.”

[20:05] Taebear 🐻: we could go to that bar near the gallery. Y/N likes the cocktails there [20:06] Mimi 🐥: kay kay [20:06] Mimi 🐥: soooooo next friday? [20:09] Mimi 🐥: why is y/n reading our messages. shouldn’t she be at dinner [20:09] You: i approve of the bar choice [20:11] You: if you didn’t want me reading your messages, you shouldn’t have sent them to the gc [20:11] You: and if you must know, i’m skipping dinner. i’m avoiding Jungkook’s mom [20:12] Mimi 🐥: understandable. i figured you would do that [20:13] Mimi 🐥: how’s it going? are we regretting going yet? i told you to just stay home and we could binge watch the office together [20:15] You: and EYE told you that you could be a good friend and go to this wedding with me but nooooo baby doesn’t like the cold [20:16] You: you could’ve visited your parents while you’re here you know. two birds with one stone [20:18] Mimi 🐥: babes my parents stayed with me for a whole month last month. i reached my quota for family face time  [20:19] You: son and friend of the year 👏 [20:20] Mimi 🐥: 😎😎😎😘

[20:22] Taebear 🐻: hey [20:23] You: uh oh. am i in trouble? why is this not in the gc? [20:25] Taebear 🐻: lol shut up [20:26] Taebear 🐻: you okay? [20:28] You: feels like that could’ve been a perfectly good question to ask in the gc [20:29] Taebear 🐻: because it’s a serious question and we both know Jimin can’t be serious for one minute to save his life [20:32] You: why does it have to be a serious question? 🤪 [20:32] Taebear 🐻: 😕 [20:33] You: stop pouting. i’m fine [20:35] Taebear 🐻: are you? [20:36] You: i am! you don’t have to go all mama bear on me [20:39] Taebear 🐻: ha ha ha. you’re so funny [20:40] Taebear 🐻: want me to call you? [20:42] You: i said i’m fiiiiiine 🙄 [20:43] You: but also no because i told everyone i was tired and i’m pretending to be asleep in my room right now [20:43] Taebear 🐻: okay [20:43] Taebear 🐻: did you eat something at least? [20:44] You: i have a cup ramen in my room [20:45] Taebear 🐻: okay [20:46] Taebear 🐻: how was today? did JK make you wanna strangle him? [20:48] You: okay Kim Taehyung at least act like you have some faith in your friend lol [20:50] You: but mmmmmm it was ok. he was mostly behaving himself [20:51] Taebear 🐻: mostly? [20:54] You: we were down at the beach and he just told me he missed me out of the blue [20:55] You: Mimi is asking why no one is replying to him  [20:57] Taebear 🐻: i can see that [20:58] Taebear 🐻: what did you tell JK? [21:01] You: i quoted fleabag to him [21:09] Taebear 🐻: i had to google that [21:10] Taebear 🐻: i still don’t know what that means [21:11] You: i know you don’t lol. you’re adorable [21:11] You: i’ll tell you when i get back.  [21:13] You: ok bye i have to sleep early or i’ll look like ass in the morning [21:14] Taebear 🐻: oh. okay [21:15] Taebear 🐻: sleep tight. remember not to gorge yourself on booze tomorrow [21:17] You: thanks for the reminder. love you mom 🙄💕 [21:17] Taebear 🐻: :) [21:20] Taebear 🐻: you won’t look like ass btw

You clocked out right after you told Taehyung that you would. It wasn’t a peaceful sleep though. The anxiety simmering in your belly woke you up a few times throughout the night. You don’t even know why you were anxious. It’s not like you were the one who was about to walk down the aisle.

When morning finally came and you managed to untangle yourself from the surprising comfort of your familiar bed, you practically dragged your feet for the subsequent two hours, trying to get ready. As if that would actually slow down the passage of time.

You had to compartmentalize the things you needed to do in a mental checklist. Makeup. Hair. Dress. Stare at yourself in the mirror for half an hour and internally freak out while waiting for Jungkook to come get you from your room.

Now you’re sitting in the wedding hall, watching people filter into the room. It’s not even a lot of people, but you’re still overwhelmed regardless.

You feel so exposed, even though he’s the only one looking at you in this room of strangers. He’s been looking at you like that ever since he first saw you this morning, in a dress that you got just days before the wedding. You still don’t know if it’s entirely appropriate for your ex-boyfriend’s brother’s wedding - maybe a bit revealing - but it was the only one you could find on such short notice.

When you tried on the dress for Taehyung and Jimin a few days ago, Taehyung said you looked beautiful. Jimin said you looked decent, “six point five out of ten,” which translated to “pretty nice” in Jimin-lingo. That would’ve been enough if you were going to any other wedding, not one where Jungkook would also be attending.

You had wanted him to see you and regret ever leaving you.

It was a silly thought, just a tad adolescent.

You had wanted him to see you in your dress and be consumed with thoughts of you until he couldn’t even see straight. To be the only thing on his mind, you didn’t think it was a lot to ask for.

That was before he told you not to think about it and you’d been convinced to just go with the flow just for two days. It was before he actually did see you earlier today in your dress - a simple midnight blue satin cowl neck with a slit in the thigh - but you were the one rendered helpless and speechless. He had stared at you for a minute when he came to walk you down from your room, then he’d said, all breathless even though both of you were just standing there, “You’re beautiful.”

You’re beautiful, not You look beautiful.

You don’t know why, but you appreciated it.

It made your cheeks burn underneath your artificial rosy blush. Stupid, you thought to yourself when you two made your way to the main hall. Stupid for letting yourself get dizzy because of a single compliment from him.

You’re seated with his parents, which makes sense because you don’t know anybody here except for them. Well, maybe you know one of his cousins whose kid you and Jungkook used to babysit whenever their family was in the city, but you doubt that he even remembers you anymore.

When the ceremony begins, your heart instantly feels like it’s about to drop to the pit of your stomach.

You can’t lie to yourself. It stings.

It stings just sitting here next to his parents like a daughter-in-law, like a member of their family, watching his brother solidify his happy ending.

It stings that Jungkook is standing up there, looking as handsome as ever, but his eyes aren’t on the couple. They keep flickering to you no matter how much you try to pretend that they don’t.

It stings that even though you don’t think about marriage often - or maybe you just don’t allow yourself to - you can’t deny that the thought does cross your mind from time to time. Any time that you’d wander the corridors inside your head, you’d pass the doors that you keep unopened on purpose but there’s always that one door marked with a bright red X that you can never sidestep.

You watch Junghyun and Sooji with their teary smiles and shaky hands, shaky but happy. There’s a sudden clarity that this could’ve been you and him in another life. Forever is a lie, but you would’ve perjured yourself a thousand times for him. I do - you would’ve meant it.

You imagine yourself in Sooji’s place, and Jungkook, standing right on the other side, holding both your hands in his. A beautiful and radiant bride terrified of the altar. A dashing groom with a smile that could rival the sun and shoulders weighing heavier than he lets on.

It would’ve looked clumsy, but it could’ve been right.

You wonder if he’s wondering the same thing. Maybe he is. You hope he is.

When the ceremony ends with a kiss shared between the newlyweds, you wipe away the tears that well up in your eyes. The people around you do the same thing, but they’re doing it for the right reason, out of genuine joy for the happy couple. You don’t think you can say the same for yourself.

Some of the bridesmaids fawn over him. It’s reasonable, you suppose. One tends to do that in the presence of Jeon Jungkook.

You watch as they come up to him one by one to ask him to dance, watch as he politely declines until they’re all stalking away with similar pouts on their faces. You watch him until his eyes lock on you, sitting at a table near the back, nursing a glass of champagne.

He weaves himself with ease through the people making their way to the dance floor. When he’s in front of you, he holds out a hand.

“Dance with me?” he asks, his doe eyes working overtime to lure you in with their sparkles, though you’d rather stay here where you can easily go unnoticed until the night ends. “One song?”

“I don’t know how,” you say, even as you’re taking his hand and standing up.

“I showed you how, remember?”

“That was a long time ago.”

He squeezes you reassuringly. “Just follow my lead,” he says, walking the both of you to the floor. “C’mon.”

Once the music starts, your heels stomp on his feet at least three times before you start finding the beat to move along to. Muscle memory, or whatever, is bullshit. You remember absolutely nothing of what he showed you.

You’re grateful that the song is slow, because it makes it easier for you to follow the beat with your two left feet. He takes one of your hands in his, the other settling on the small of your back, guiding you to move in a steady rhythm.

You feel his mother’s eyes on the two of you, because she must be somewhere nearby, watching you like a hawk. You feel his gaze on your face while you keep yours on the knot of his tie, just trying to keep your composure and to not step on his feet with your heels.

The blur of white that you catch from the periphery of your vision makes you turn your head. Sooji and Junghyun are close by, swaying together slowly to the soft music, both of them glowing with happiness. She must sense your eyes on her, because she lifts her gaze up to meet yours. She smiles at the sight of you and Jungkook, and you smile back, because you don’t know how else to respond to that.

You don’t say it, but you do think it. Your fingers tighten around his hand ever so slightly.

Could that have been us?

If the answer is yes, then it would hurt.

If the answer is no, then it would hurt.

The point of your story is that it’s painful however you choose to look at it. There’s no other way to frame it. It’s just painful, because you’re never going to get any of it back.

You bite your lip, then turn away from the happy couple but you still don’t look at Jungkook. You look at your hand in his, and that’s when you see it.

“How’d you get that?” you ask, gently tracing the inch of slightly raised skin on his knuckles. You never noticed the scar until now.

“It was four years ago, I think? After Taehyung and I almost got into a fight, I went outside and… punched a wall,” he says, wincing as he recalls the memory.

His answer takes you aback. “You and Taehyung got into a fight?”

“Almost,” he corrects. “It was a long time ago. Didn’t they tell you?”

“No, they didn’t say anything. What happened?”

“Nothing happened.”

“If it was really nothing, you wouldn’t have punched a wall.” You frown. It makes you miss a few beats, but the song isn’t what’s important now, even if Jungkook is still trying to steer you back into the dance. “Taehyung isn’t violent. You aren’t violent.”

“I’m serious,” he says finally. “It’s nothing. We were just drunk and stupid.”

You know there must be more to it, that something must have happened or been said to trigger such a reaction from both of them. But you also know that you won’t probably get anything out of Jungkook if he doesn’t want to tell you.

You give up, for now. “Fine. If you say so.”  You’ll just have to weasel it out of Jimin later.

The song comes to an end, before another one comes on. If Jungkook remembers that he only asked for one song, maybe he’s counting his blessings that you’re still here and dancing with him, because he doesn’t mention it.

For some reason, you pull your hand away from his, only to slide up his shoulder to lock both of your hands behind his neck. He seems surprised, but he does the same around your waist.

Jungkook’s gaze flickers to your lips briefly, then back to your eyes again. You find yourself doing the same and wonder what he tastes like after all the time you’ve been apart. Is he still as sweet as you remember? You used to tease that it was because of the excessive sugar he put in everything, but you knew it was really just him. The few inches between you are so inviting that it’s practically tempting you to close the gap. You could, easily in fact. Blame it on one too many glasses of champagne later if you want.

He looks younger like this, like the boy you loved, starry eyes and dimpled smile. His shoulders are always the most comfortable resting place, the crook of his neck your long lost home. This is nice, you think, to see him again even though it feels like a fever dream. Memories of your first date, your first kiss, come to life before your eyes so realistically that you could almost touch them.

Loved? That sounds funny to you.

The people you used to be, souls wrapped in innocence, when the world was nothing but the arms of the person you loved. You reach out, and the memories quickly fade from view. The only trace they leave behind is a speck of gold on your fingertips, a memento of charming naiveté for you to tuck neatly away in the corner of your mind, but also a reminder that ah, they only exist in the locket of your heart now. Because he has changed, and you think you must have too. Life, as they say, goes on.

“We made it. Kind of. That’s crazy,” you find yourself saying.

“Did we?”

“You don’t think so?” you chuckle. “We’re in a group chat with the Kim Seokjin who spams it with bad jokes on a daily basis. I’d call that a win.”

That makes him laugh. “If you put it like that, yeah, maybe. Sure.”

Other people might be fooled, but it doesn’t sound at all convincing to you. The light doesn’t really reach his eyes. You bite the inside of your cheek, thinking of how to translate the sudden poignant turn of the moment.

“It isn’t everything you hoped it’d be?” you ask.

His shoulders rise then fall quickly in a second-long shrug. “I thought it would make me feel more… fulfilled. But it doesn’t. Not really.”

The way he says it and the way he’s looking at you makes your heart dive. You understand what he means. You’re good at what you do, and you don’t need reassurance from anyone to recognize that. But sometimes, it doesn’t feel like it’s enough. Doesn’t feel like it’s real, like it’s validated.

When you landed your first big project, even before Yoongi, you were so proud of yourself. You were bursting with excitement but you weren’t happy, and you knew what the reason was. Something was missing that couldn’t be filled, not even with all your friends’ hundreds of messages of encouragement. 

It’s beyond stupid, this feeling like your wins amount to nothing at all just because of one person. You wanted him there to celebrate every achievement with you and he wasn’t, and the milestones seemed incomplete without the presence of him. It doesn’t feel like you’ve accomplished anything because this always used to be a dream you thought you’d make come true together.

“It’s lonely,” he concludes.

It sounds like he feels the same way, like he wanted you to be there too.

He suddenly holds you tighter than you think he needs to, like he’s afraid to let go of you. You imagine that he doesn’t want to let go of you, and it makes you feel better for a second. But it doesn’t change the fact that he still did in the end. And he will have to when this ends.

What was the point of this? Why did he bring this upon yourselves when he seems to be as hurt as you are? All of this time, all of these years, lost to what? You could’ve been happy together but instead, you were both lost and miserable.

When the music stops - you lost count of how many songs it’s been - you pull away from him. He looks disappointed, maybe even a little hurt for some reason.

“I’m gonna get some air,” you say, already turning away from him.

“Y/N-”

“I need some air.” Then you’re weaving through the dancing couples despite Jungkook calling your name. How did he manage it? How did he not look back when you called out for him?

You hastily grab your coat on the way out. It’s not going to keep you warm, but that’s not something you’re even remotely concerned with.

It’s everywhere, you feel it down to your bones.

The wind wraps itself tightly around you, intertwining in your hair, slipping through the cracks of your fingers, caressing your face in a chilling touch. You greet the cold like a long lost sister, shivering violently with nostalgia. It was there for you more than your own flesh and blood.

Is that why you like the sea at night? Because it reminds you of mom?

It’s dark out here, barely anything is visible except for a lighthouse sending out light in the quiet of the night. You can’t see much, but you can certainly hear it. You’re not sure if the music is coming from inside the venue, or if it’s still ringing in your ears. It’s probably the latter; you’re too far away to be able to catch the music anyway. But regardless, the tune is quickly drowned out by the sea.

The waves crash violently against the shore like it’s out for blood. There’s a magnetic pull, as if it’s calling out for you. You want to go to it, to reach out and feel the cold outside of your body for once, but you stay there despite your legs itching to stand up and run straight ahead. Into the water and down under.

You could lie down and close your eyes for a moment. The sound of the water, as sharp and brutal as it is, nurtures a part of you somehow.

You just want to be alone. You don’t want to talk to Taehyung, or Jimin, or even Yoongi.

Oh.

Yoongi.

It’s a terrible feeling, knowing that you’re going to hurt Yoongi. Knowing that you’re going to kill this even before it has a chance to truly begin.

Truth be told, you can’t envision a future with Yoongi. There isn’t anything wrong with him, because he’s not the problem here. Yoongi is fun, he’s considerate, he keeps things light on purpose for you, until you’re ready to initiate something more serious. He’s good for you, even Taehyung thinks so.

But you can’t love Yoongi, not in the way that he wants you to. Not more than you love Jungkook.

There you go. Ruining things again.

Did you ruin Jungkook? Is that what happened?

The layers on you are no match for the sea at night. The wind hisses relentlessly, biting at any part of your skin that’s exposed.

It takes you back to that night. Almost everything does, actually.

Maybe that’s why you never even stopped to consider starting anything with anyone, because it always ends. If there’s a beginning, then there will be an inevitable ending. Love isn’t made to last and you aren’t meant to carry love with you. You’ve been abandoned twice. If it happens a third time, it’s a pattern, and then your hypothesis will only be proven. That the problem here is you.

You’d be lying if you said you haven’t wondered when it’ll finally be Taehyung’s turn to leave. He eventually will, right? That one’s gonna hurt.

Then, you’re startled when someone calls your name.

“What’s wrong?” Jungkook asks. The wind and the waves masked the sound of his footsteps walking up to you. When you turn around to face him, his eyes grow worried, almost panicked. “Why are you crying?”

You breathe out irritatedly before you hastily wipe at your cheeks. You didn’t even realize that you’d been crying. “Nothing’s wrong. I’m fine,” you say, though you both know it’s a lie. “I’m just tired. I’m going up to my room.”

He catches your wrist in a firm grip when you try to walk away. You wish he’d just leave you alone, but you knew he wouldn’t drop it just like that.

“I said I’m fine,” you insist.

“You were crying,” he says. “Did I do something wrong?”

He didn’t, at least not tonight.

God, you really don’t want to do this right now.

“Jungkook,” you warn. “Let go of me.”

You try to free yourself from his grip, hoping that he’ll get the hint and back off for now. Instead, he pulls you into his chest, where you struggle to escape from his hold until you realize your efforts are futile. He takes the wind’s place, wound tightly around you, so tightly that it’s nearly impossible for you to move.

You hiss out his name, but he doesn’t budge. 

“Jungkook, can you just- Fuck!”

Damn him.

You realize he’s not giving up, which in turn makes you give up struggling, hoping that if you let this be a moment, then it’ll be something that can pass.

You’re just standing there, letting him hold you, letting yourself be held by the person who broke you in the first place. This feels exactly like where you’re supposed to be - in his arms, with your face hidden in the crook of his neck, his gentle fingers stroking your hair. There’s not a lot that you could do but lean into that feeling the same way you lean into him. One foot in the sand, one foot in the past. A hand on the doorknob of time, wondering if you should look back or look forward.

You want to be alone, but that never used to apply with him.

The wind stills, the sea calms. You remain unmoving too, locked in his embrace. You feel the faint rhythm of his heart, beating faster than you think it should. If you could, you would bottle this moment up and live there forever.

I miss you, you think.

I miss you.

I miss you.

I miss you.

Then your arms are around him too. It only makes him hold you tighter, and all you can think about is how much you miss him, how painful it is to miss him, how you feel like you’re being pulled apart at the seams from the weight of missing him. 

Fuck.

Can you pretend that the last few years never happened? Is there a higher power that would allow you to go back to the night before that wretched Wednesday, when everything was still perfect? Hundreds of days of your life, can you pretend that it was just one long nightmare? When you wake up, you’ll be back in his humble apartment, tangled up together in his bed. Warm sunlight, your silken youth, and him. It was all you ever needed.

Again with the devastating familiarity. The city, the beach. His mother’s warmth that always made you reminisce about your own mother’s coldness. How Jungkook used to find you in moments like this and just stayed by your side until the dejection passed. He understood that he could never understand it the way you did.

You hear yourself sniffle, then you feel him press a kiss into your hair. Home is comforting.

Oh, you never want to leave.

You don’t want to leave, and that’s terrifying.

You allow yourself to stay there for one more second - one endless second - so you could commit to memory what it’s like to be with him. Back and forth. It’s always so easy to fall into him.

Jungkook releases you when he feels you loosen after a while, and you reluctantly meet his eyes as he tilts your head to face him.  His fingers cradling your jaw, how warm and delicate they feel on your skin.

You swallow thickly, your mind going blank. He’s the only person you see, the only one that matters. His eyes flicker south, and even then you don’t make any move to run away, despite his loose grip on your waist telling you that you can if you want to.

You told him that it would pass, and maybe for him, it will. For him, it’s the city and the moment, making him feel like he’s caught up in a page that he’s turned over a long time ago. He was fine with leaving, and he’s been fine without you. It will pass for him, as much as it hurts you to admit it.

But not for you. For you, there’s only him. There’s nobody else but him. It’s always been him, no matter how hard you try to tell yourself that there will be another person you can love as much as you love Jungkook. You might only be a page, perhaps even a chapter, in the story of his life, but he’s your entire book. He’s volume after volume after volume, until he takes up the whole shelf and leaves no room for anything else, not even for yourself.

And now here he is - at the biggest turn in your career.

He’s a bad blood cell you can’t ever get rid of.

You’ll never be able to truly let go of him. How could you? When you truly love someone, those feelings will carry on forever. They’ll always have a piece of your heart despite an ending. When you look back on a certain period in your life, you’ll think to yourself, You’ll always be a part of me. I loved you then.

But Jungkook is a force of nature. He has your whole heart.

Years and years from now, when you look back on your life, you know you’ll see him everywhere. Even when you’re old and gray, and when faces all just blur together in a mosaic of broken memories and long lost youth, you know you’ll still remember him - the person you loved, the one whom you let slip through your fingers. The great love of your life when you were young.

Sometimes, you regret that day. You can’t help feeling like it was your fault too. Maybe you should’ve tried harder to keep him. You should’ve fought harder, should’ve held onto him instead of standing there and watching him leave.

He lit the match, and you let the house burn. It takes two to tango, two to break a heart.

You’re quick to let people leave. Oh, how you wish it could be that easy to let them go too.

It isn’t until your eyes mimic the flicker of his gaze that he leans in. You meet him halfway. For the first time in years, you feel like you could breathe, truly breathe. It’s achingly slow, like neither of you can believe that this is happening. 

You sigh against his mouth when his tongue brushes your bottom lip, slips past the seal to devour you. It feels like a perfect dream. You could stay in this bubble with him forever, pretend that you’re the only two people who exist in the world and there’s nothing else, no one else, waiting for you in a city that seems so far away right now. The thought of him never left you, not even for a second. He’s always been with you everywhere you go, no matter what you do, always in the back of your mind.

He tastes like your youth, like remembrance. He kisses you like he’s still yours when deep down you know that you’re still his. The hand on your jaw is gentle but firm, and it makes you repeat a thought, I miss you.

Then a feeling, I love you.

Not then. Now.

I love you now.

I love you even when I shouldn’t. Even when it hurts. Even when you leave me. Even when you don’t love me more than I love you. If there comes a day where you love somebody else, I will still love you then. There will never be another person for me but you. My first and only love.

When he pulls away, you think it’s too quick, even though your lungs are grateful for the breath that you instantly inhale. You stare at his lips like you’re in a daze, mesmerized, wanting to chase them again. You don’t even know how you have it in yourself to utter these next words, but you hear your own voice saying them anyway.

You’re holding onto him now. Doesn’t that count?

“Let’s…” Your fingers tighten on the collar of his dress shirt. “Let’s go up to your room.”

note (2): so... what do we think?? will they?? won't they?? 😵 stay tuned for obs7.5 which will be dropping 29.09.2023! also i'm gonna pause obs muse asks for a little bit! 😬

all rights reserved © jeonqkooks. reposting, translating and/or modifying is not permitted by any means. [posted september 24, 2023]

[agustdef]

Will You

Pairing: Jeon Jungkook x Black!Reader

Genre: Fluff; Idol AU/Idolverse

Word Count: 3k

Warning: Light Language

Rating: PG-13

Beta Reader: @hobeemin

A/N: This was due to idk and I have so many ideas that I simply didn’t write a ff that ended up posted for much too long. So here’s to hoping to finishing these ideas.

“And without further ado, I am more than happy to introduce you to our keynote speaker Ms. YN LN.”

Clapping fills the room, and Jungkook joins in a beat late. His mind wandered as he’d listened to the other speakers for almost an hour. They’d all had interesting things to say, but something about being in a room with all these people with a person at a podium felt too much like school. Plus, a few of them seemed just to enjoy hearing themselves talk.

He refused to admit that to YN, though.

His beautiful girlfriend tried to give him an out when he said he’d come with her for this event. Told him how boring it would be and that she didn’t mind if he just did something else until she was done. Of course, he pushed for it, and she relented with one final warning about how he’d be bored as hell. To a degree, he’d known that going into it, but he wanted to support her. And to see her in her element.

Though they both work in the same industry, they’re on different ends of it. Jungkook as an artist and occasional writer, while YN worked legal. Their first encounter was when an American artist friend of his invited her out to dinner as a thank you for helping him with a contract issue with his label. They’d made him promises and tried to backtrack when it was time for the new contract. YN worked at a firm that specialized in that kind of thing, though they usually worked with smaller artists. His friend had been her big break, bringing in business and a promotion.

Of course, Jungkook was too much of a punk to ask her for her number at that meeting. He was too nervous about if it was forward, and he didn’t want to mess with the mostly professional nature of the event. But he got her card, and that was enough.

Until they kept bumping into each other at the more business-like industry events. Well, half bumping into each other and the other half him hunting down her name on programs and making sure to show up to those panels or events. It made him feel like a little bit of a stalker, but to combat that, he finally got his shit together and asked her out after running into her at a restaurant. 

Grateful to not be turned down was an understatement.

As they got to know each other, he felt himself fall hard and fast. She was perfect. Not in how one thinks when they hear the word, but in how that worked for him. That made their relationship work through the lows as well as the highs. 

I love you slipped out of his mouth five months in. 

If that didn’t explain why he put himself through this boredom, nothing, else would at least not in a way that made sense. His members still sometimes looked at him crazy with how he felt about her and how he could only sometimes find the words to explain it in a coherent way.

“I promise to try not making this too boring for y’all. I can not, however promise it won’t be boring at all. My line of work has to have some pitfalls besides all that paperwork,” YN joked.

The entire room laughs. It’s not the funniest thing in the world, but the way she delivers it and the energy she exudes as a person gets to people. It’s why Jungkook lets out a laugh that’s a little too loud and draws the attention of those around him. And of YN, though she doesn’t look his way to make that clear. He just nose from the way she pauses for a second longer, and her smile widens. 

Embarrassed isn’t even the right word for him at the moment. Part of him wants to flee the room, but he stays in his seat. It helps that anyone who side eyes him switches to being shocked to see him there. Being identified as a member of BTS is what he can handle; being embarrassed is not, despite what his variety show content and the lives over the years might suggest.

To let the feeling pass, he focused on the stage. Well, on YN.

“For those who don’t know me, I’m YN LN, and I've been working at Heights Law for the last six or seven years,. We specialize in fair contracts for indie artists. From things with their label to tours, merchandise, the people they hire, and even contracts between members if it’s a group. About thirty-five percent of those we work with don’t even have a label they’re signed to and don’t want to. And then about twenty percent of our clients are more mainstream artists looking for the same services.

We don’t work with any sort of label because we feel it ties us to worrying too much about keeping on their good side when trying to figure things out. And while we are not on a mission to do anything that would be, for the lack of a better word, line crossing with the people we are trying to get to sign the contracts, our clients come first. That’s made us stand out in a way y’all may have heard about a time or two. I’d like to personally apologize for making you sit through articles about a certain label trying to screw over up and coming artist Minx and all the weird things that were honestly not so weird about her tour rider.”

Again laughter, but with some whispers and grumbles thrown in. That entire situation had everyone in the industry confused as hell, and for the last few months, they thought Minx was trying to be greedy until everything was settled and it was shown that all her asks weren’t as crazy as they’d seemed. Even Jungkook found himself looking at YN like she’d lost it with every new bit of information that was released. He’d asked her about it, but she gave him a look, and he had to wait out the outcome like everyone else. 

“And for this, I think Minx is the perfect situation to discuss. I mean, when else will you see how things can go when a former lawyer turned pop star wants to sign with the label she used to work for but knows all their tricks.”

That was all it took to have people enthralled. After everything settled, everyone still had a million questions about it, but they were still waiting for someone at the firm to answer them. Jungkook had the fortune of dating YN around the time, so he got her to tell him, and Minx had invited them somewhere and told him more. So, he knew everything.

Which meant he could just stare at her. He didn’t think of himself as the type to be much of a creepy person, even if him trying to run into her wasn’t a clear indication of that. That and that looking at her was one of his favorite pastimes. 

YNs cute.

He would and did use a million words to describe her. But the first thought in his brain when he saw her was how cute she was, and he felt his heart triple in size from that alone. Her genuine smile and soft features do a lot to counteract the fact that she’s only an inch shorter than me, which throws people off when they meet her and had only seen her face before.

Those legs of hers, when she wears heels, drive Jungkook absolutely feral. And he has to fight off the thought of them as his mind spirals. He focused instead on the light tint of pink pushing through the brown skin because of all the bright lighting, the way there’s a stray piece of hair not as curly as the rest that she swears isn’t from heat damage, and she can fix, the soft red of her lips, and the way every part of her body seems light and open as she talks about a subject she loves. A look he’s familiar with and is how he knows she looks at him. 

More than anything, Jungkook is sure that YN loves him as much as he loves her, and like a revelation, he knows how much that is. How much space that love takes up in him, to the point that sometimes it feels like it’s overflowing. Right now, it feels like it’s overflowing.

“Questions?”

That one word pulls him out of his head, but he looks at YN with a clarity he didn’t have a few minutes ago, let alone a few hours ago.

Someone clears their throat, but his eyes don’t leave her.

“Why not just go with what the label wanted? I mean, sure, Minx had the background, but that shouldn’t make her any different than any other artist. Should she not be thankful to get into the place twice on different sides of it?”

There was agreement in the crowd, but it died out quickly with everyone else's quietness drop quiet.

Despite the shift in vibes, there’s a smile on YN’s face. 

“Why do you think that? Is it because others don’t have that same knowledge? I can see how that could be seen as unfair because it is. But because she has the background,, she used it to help herself best,, which made it so we could best help her and those in the future. However, I can assure you that they changed their contract language a lot since then. Height and many other firms who deal with them and this kind of thing all saw a shift for the better and for the worst with them. So, while you may wonder why Minx didn’t simply take what she should be lucky to have gotten from them, I hope you’re settled by the fact that unless the rare thing happens. Someone else does the same thing, no one else will be able to give the insight on how to best make the next contract work for the client in the way she did.”

The response is assertive, sarcastic, and professionally annoyed. It doesn’t leave room for anyone to say anything that doesn’t make them look any more like an ass. But the man at the podium opens his mouth a few times to try and figure out what to say. In the end, he walks away from the mic with his head down. Jungkook is sure that if it weren’t for pride, he would walk out of the room altogether.

“Any more questions,” YN said after a moment.

There’s one that Jungkook has. One he needs answered, but he finds himself glued to his seat.

Several people go up and ask their questions, all of them better than the first one, though some of them toe the line. There are also a few that Jungkook would deem flirting, but they don’t bother him. Not with the thoughts swarming around in his head.

Before he knows it, she answers the last question, and everyone is dismissed. A few linger to talk, but with this day being so packed, everyone wants to rush off to the next talk or event happening.

He sits in the seat for about fifteen minutes before she walks up to him, and when she puts her hand on his shoulder, he looks up at her startled, even though he watched her approach him.

“Ready to go?”

Jungkook’s mouth opens and closes as he stares at her. He feels all over the place, but none of it’s uncertainty or doubt.

“I have a question,” he managed.

“Huh?”

“I have a question. I didn’t get the chance to ask it in there. I was… I’m nervous to ask it, and I couldn’t do it in there.”

YN frowned. “You can always ask me anything, my love. No need to be nervous about it. Plus, I’m sure yours is better than some of the bullshit I get asked in general when it comes to work.”

For a moment, Jungkook says nothing. All he can do is stare at her and try to keep his breathing normal. The latter is the hardest part, but YN takes his hand in hers and squeezes it tight.

Taking a breath, he gets to his feet, takes both of her hands in his, and stares into her eyes. He’s more than sure about what he has to say.

“Will you marry me?”

“Yes.”

Question nor answer was said with any hesitation. However, Jungkook could tell that YN was still trying to process what was happening. He was too, but that wasn’t important now.

After a second, Jungkook released one of her hands, and with the other firm in his grasp, he led her out of the room. He hears her ask a question, but it doesn’t fully register in his brain. All his focus is on weaving through the crowd of people and out the door of the convention center. The place isn’t as isolated as some can be, so he walked past the parking lot where his car is and made his way past the hotel they were staying at.

“Where are we going?”

“Jungkook?”

“Jay?”

There’s a loud exhale too, but Jungkook paid it no mind. He’s on a mission. 

“For goodness sake, Kookie.”

YN matches his pace though she’s clearly confused by what the hell is happening. He knew he should say something, but couldn’t find his words just yet, so he kept walking until ten minutes later, they were in front of a popular celebrity-use jewelry store.

A few of the things he bought for himself and others - YN included - were from here, so he had a code that they gave him to get in. The door buzzed them in, and the moment that they walked in, there was a person there and ready to help. Though it might not be obvious to most, it was clear from the knowing smile on the woman’s face she knew what was up. 

Didn’t stop Jungkook from being so flustered, though. 

“Hi. Engagement rings. I mean, we would like to see engagement rings.”

Without a word, she directed them to the back of the store. They followed close behind her, and when they entered the room, she’s taking them to another person is setting down a tray of rings, with others sitting on a cart behind him.

Yeah, she knew.

Once everything is on the table, the man leaves, and they’re directed to sit. The woman who welcomed them stands on the other side of the table.

“This is a collection of all the rings we sell in the store. Though there are others, we can have custom made if what you see in front of you isn’t the right fit or you want a mix of styles. There’s a mix of the traditional sort and the non-traditional. Some are even without diamonds. Please, take your time to look through them and see if something catches your eye.”

Then she’s gone, and all the sound goes with her.

“We’re doing this?”

“You asked me.”

“True.”

Jungkook finally turns and looks at her, and despite all the nerves he’s feeling about if she’ll take it back, there’s a smile on her face. And a lack of anxiety like what’s going through him. Though he can tell, she’s a little thrown off by it all.

“I did. And I want to.”

“Then we better start looking, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

All the tension that was once there leaves the room, and they both turn their attention to the hundreds of rings in front of them. It’s an overwhelming site, but they dive into them. Jungkook tries to get YN to try some on, but she says that she doesn’t want to just yet, so they set them on the empty tray right in front of them. 

Each one feels perfect to Jungkook, but not right. More of the diamond rings that look how he’s used to seeing American engagement rings look like end up on the tray, which isn’t much of a shock with YN’s usual preferences.

A tray marked as morganite is second to last, and Jungkook almost avoids it, but then one ring calls to him. His eyes zone in on it, and he reaches for it just as YN gasps. His neck nearly breaks when he turns to look at her, but the slight pain means nothing as he follows her gaze to the ring he was reaching for.

Without another thought, he picks it up, takes her hand, and slides it into place. Though it’s a little loose, it fits her finger. The oval champagne colored gem is on a white gold band and surrounded on either side with diamonds that fan out, almost like leaves on the stem of a flower. They wrap perfectly around her finger and stop before they reach the palm side. Everything about it is YN. Is them.

“Perfection,” YN whispered.

“Yeah.”

And like the whirlwind that this was, Jungkook was happy to find that they had the same ring, the right size, on the premises, and he paid for it right then and there. It only left YN’s finger so they could clean it, and then it was on again.

They walked out of the room, and both were on a cloud. All those nerves Jungkook felt before were gone, but something else replaced it.

“I guess we have a wedding to plan. I can’t imagine when we’d even have it,” YN said.

“Now.”

Not the least bit startled, she turned to him with a raised brow. 

“Now?”

“I… I don’t know. Maybe?”

Silence sat between them for what felt like forever, and then YN turned her attention back to the jeweler.

“We need to see wedding bands, too,” she said, then turned back to Jungkook. “And you need to start making phone calls.”

[jjungkookislife]

Baby Kicks

pairing: husband!Jungkook x pregnant wife!reader

genre: established relationship, expecting parents au, fluff [18+]

wc: 887

summary: Jungkook has spent the day doing karaoke to find his baby’s favorite songs. 

warnings: mention of reader gaining weight, mention of reader’s body changing due to pregnancy, jungkook helps reader off the couch, implied smut

date: February 7, 2023

The couch wasn’t big enough for the three of you. Jungkook was on the very edge of the couch while you and your rounded belly took up the rest. Your dog, a sweet little corgi named Blackjack, was sitting on the floor by your feet with a frown, glaring at your husband. Blackjack had been sitting on your lap, a hard feat now that your belly had grown so big the past few months but then Jungkook had laid himself down on the very edge and unfortunately for Blackjack, the couch wasn’t wide enough for four and he’d been the one to hop off, needing more room to stretch out. That didn't mean he wouldn't hold a grudge against your husband, in fact, your pup was already plotting his revenge as he stared at the back of Jungkook’s head. 

“Babe,” you sigh as your fingers run through Jungkook’s long hair. It had grown as much as your belly the past three months and you loved it. Jungkook said he wanted to look good when the baby arrived and you laughed and told him he looks wonderful. Though you’re sure it also had to do with the way you pulled his hair when you were intimate and he wanted to give you something to hold on to. Jungkook would never admit it though. 

“There’s not enough room for the three of us on the couch,” you tell him as you rub your belly lightly. Jungkook pouts as he looks up at you from his spot on your belly, his tattooed arm draped over your hip. 

“But I’m comfy,” he pouts. 

“Baby, you’re hanging off the edge,” you point out. “If I take a deep breath, you’ll fall.”

Jungkook huffs, snuggling his face into your belly once again. “I just want to feel Mini-Me kick for me.”

“He has been,” you remind him. “He liked Baby Shark when you sang to him earlier.”

Jungkook groans. “I want him to like more than Baby Shark.”

You laugh, fingers scratching at his scalp. Jungkook moans softly and your heart flutters. 

All afternoon, Jungkook had been singing karaoke, trying to see which songs would get a kick from his son. 

“He liked Vibe,” You giggle and Jungkook pouts, his doe eyes glittering in the lowlight of the living room. 

“I don’t want him reacting to my brother’s voice,” Jungkook shakes his head as he rubs your belly. “Uncle Jimin is not your favorite. I am. I'm your daddy.”

A soft kick gets him to smile brightly. Jungkook chuckles, grinning from ear to ear. He had sung a few songs after that, hoping any of them would get your son kicking, and you’d scolded him when his Mini-Me got too riled up. 

“He’ll be up all night kicking and I won’t sleep.” Jungkook had looked abashed, promising just a few more songs before calling it a day. You had agreed as you got comfortable on the couch, only for Jungkook to sing Unholy and give you a look that sent you over the edge. 

You had dragged him straight to your bedroom, moans filling the apartment soon after. 

Now, you were relaxing after dinner. Music still played in the background and Jungkook hummed along to a few songs, not wanting to rile up his son right before bedtime but if he happened to kick for him, he’d be ecstatic. 

“I love you,” Jungkook murmurs sleepily as he cuddles into you, his head now between your breasts. 

“I love you too, baby. Come on, let’s go to bed. This couch isn’t good for my back and I need my pillows.” Jungkook nods as he lets himself drop to the floor. You roll your eyes at him.

“You could have just gotten up normally,” you shake your head with a laugh. 

Jungkook shrugs. “Didn’t want to hurt you or Mini. Let me help you up.”

You slowly move your legs so your feet touch the floor and Jungkook takes hold of your hands to help lift you off the couch. Tomorrow he would suggest going out to purchase a new one. One that would fit all three of you and perhaps Blackjack as well. 

Jungkook helps you to the bedroom, hovering as you do your nightly routine before he’s helping you get into bed. You groan once your head hits the pillows and you get comfortable. Jungkook is lightning fast with his own routine, stripping to only his boxers before climbing into bed with you. 

He’s quick to drape himself over you, sharing the warmth of his body with you until later, when you're fast asleep and too hot to keep him wrapped around you. For now, he’ll rest his head on your chest and his large hands on your tummy. He couldn’t wait to meet your child, to hold him, and snuggle him and love on him. Just a few more weeks and he’d be able to hold him in his hands. 

Jungkook kisses your jaw and you hum, nearly asleep. He giggles as he feels the tiniest movement from your belly. 

“Goodnight, Mini-Me. I have a new set list for tomorrow,” Jungkook grins. “Don’t tell your mommy.”

“Jungkook, go to sleep!”

“Whoop! Gotta go, Mini-Me!” Jungkook kisses your belly before moving to cuddle you instead as you melt under his touch. 

“Goodnight, baby.”

next >>

thank you for reading! ♡ if you liked it, please let me know! 💌

© jjungkookislife - I do not allow reposts or translations of my work on any platforms, this includes Youtube.

[joheunsaram]

pretty hallucinations (jjk)

summary: Drunk words are sober thoughts, and now Jungkook knows all of yours — even the ones about him. And you know what they say, once a secret’s out, it’s hard to take it back.

word count- 3.9k 

pairing- best friend!Jungkook x Reader

rating- PG 15

genre- f2l, idiots in love, fluff, slight angst, slight crack

warnings- reader is wasted, jungkook is a softie, SO MUCH PINING, mention of bondage and spreader bars lmfao

a.n- a birthday fic to celebrate my favourite bunny! happy birthday jk! this fic came to me after I read a scene in ten trends to seduce your best friend that had me cackling. read that book if you enjoyed this, that ones a real f2l slow burn hehe

special s/o to @daechwitatamic for beta reading, helping with the summary, and leaving the most hilarious comments on my doc haha I will cherish them forever💕

As always feedback appreciated, a reblog and a like goes a far way. Send me an ask! 💌

-

The room was spinning. A kaleidoscope of colours twirling in the air and you couldn’t help the bitterness rising through you. This used to be your favourite place, a library you had created after years of collecting your favourite words. Systematically organized, it seemed now that a hurricane had passed through.

Well, after ten drinks, you were nothing less than a hurricane. Books with their once perfect spines laid dog-eared and haphazard. You couldn’t find it. Couldn’t find the perfect words for the moment. There was always supposed to be something for every emotion in your collection.

Some may think losing yourself in fictional words was cowardice, but to you it was a reprieve. Reality was boring. In the real world you were just a nerdy overgrown virgin who would never confess your feelings to a man — to the man. In reality, you would always be the girl who talked big about sex and hid behind bravado instead of ever opening yourself up to the vulnerability that came with it. The real you was a phony.

Stumbling with your fingers wrapped around the bottle of whiskey, you meandered to the opposite wall, pulling romance novels off the shelves. They would have answers for your predicament. Wasn’t that the purpose of them? To show how the characters overcame their fears?

The words blurred but you lost yourself. You were Catherine sharing your love but having it misconstrued, leaving you to misery, a death of a life never fully lived. As you read Heathcliff’s grief, daring you to haunt him, he transformed from the Englishman to someone too familiar, his proper attire morphing to the comfortable baggy black shirts and giant stomping boots. His dark eyebrow manifested a silver barbell, his eyes widening into a doe-eyed stare. Ebony tendrils grew from his fingertips, running up his right arm until they formed shapes as intimate as your breaths. Tiger lillies and eclipses and snakes and clocks and words so dear they played as a melody on your lips.

And then Jungkook’s words transformed from the enraged howling of ghosts to silence, his lips parted in shock as his eyes looked at you with pity. The memory was visceral and it forced your hand to tip the bottle against your lips, your tongue coating in the warm bite of liquor. Yet, it permeated through, the single moment of bravery you had been saving your whole life coming back to haunt you.

He had a friendly arm around you, the two of you laughing at the television screen as the characters finally confessed and Jungkook shook his head, chastising them for not coming clean sooner and saving him the trouble. The innocuous words gave you the courage to share a secret ten years in the making.

A simple I like you.

But unlike the characters who were living their happily ever after, Jungkook sputtered, moving away with an awkward laugh, shattering your heart into a million pieces. The distance was a chasm growing wide with his questions and the lifetime of bravery fizzled much quicker than you anticipated.

“I should’ve never opened my stupid mouth,” you lamented, tossing back another searing gulp, books digging into your back as you stared at nothing. Nothing that spurred into a familiar shadow making you cackle at your imagination. It really was better than reality.

Because in your imagination, Jungkook crouched in front of you smelling like fresh laundry that made you hazy. His fingers caressed your face, moving the curls that had spilled from their usual tight bun atop your head to frame your face. But even an imaginary Jungkook wouldn’t give you your happy ending.

Moving your hair away, he smiled, helping you up. His voice was gravelly when he spoke, a novel rasp that you wanted to pluck from the air and store it next to your array of books.

“Your mouth is not stupid,” he chuckled, an arm around your waist as he moved you from the library to the kitchen. You refused to look at this hallucination, instead focusing on the tiles that you had handpicked for the kitchen. Small white ones. They had a pattern in the middle, cobalt outlines of squares interwoven together to form stars of the skies.

He deposited you on the stool next to the breakfast nook and placed a glass in front of you. Condensation trickled down the glass to the island and before your clumsy hands could do any damage, your figment picked the glass and placed it on a coaster. Of course he knew what to do, imaginary men were perfect.

“I’m not imaginary, Trix,” Jungkook answered your inner monologue, amusement lacing his tone. But his mirth did not placate you, there was no way Jungkook would seek you out after he stomped on your heart. Your best friend was not that cruel. Not intentionally at least.

“Trix are for kids! Don’t call me that,” you whined, your words mumbled by the glass that he held to your lips. With the coldest glare you could manage, you stared at him as you finished the drink, refusing to acknowledge how soothing the cool water felt trickling down your throat.

“But they’re your favourite, Trix,” he retorted, bemused before running a hand over your head. You wanted to chastise your heart for skipping a beat at the platonic touch as he mussed your hair but you couldn’t help it. This always happened. You hated that he used that nickname, an inside joke that did nothing other than give you false hope. It was cute when he started. It made you flush to your toes and stutter over your words, but it was unfair how he could easily give you a pet name when your boyfriends had trouble coming up with anything that didn’t make you wince.

“What are you doing here, Jungkook?” Your voice wobbled as did you when he helped you up, moving you towards your bedroom. Tears still streaked down your face, stuffing your sinuses with regret as you leaned against his infuriatingly hard body.

“I’m taking care of you. I always take care of you,” he answered. “Watch your step.”

His answer made you fume. Why couldn’t you feel this way for Jimin? He was supposed to be your type, flirty and loud and unafraid to go after what he wanted. In comparison, Jungkook was just a shy, awkward teenager who showed more emotions when he lost a game of League. Sure, what if the way Jimin called you sugar was a little cringey, it was better than babe or doll!

“Those are all terrible pet names, Trix,” Jungkook commented, his grin audible even when you refused to look at him. All you could do was weakly punch his arm, missing wildly while he steadied you on your never-ending path to your bedroom.

You missed your bed. Your mattress was the most expensive thing you owned. Jungkook had given you a lot of shit for spending a pretty penny on it, but it was like sleeping on a cloud, so soft and plush that you could just sink in and forget about everything.

And you really needed to forget the humiliation of Jungkook’s rejection.

“I didn’t reject you. You were drunk, Trix. You didn’t mean it,” Jungkook answered your thoughts once again. “Also your bed is very comfy so I promise not to annoy you about wasting money again.”

He was laughing at you and you couldn’t help but grunt, turning around and placing a clumsy hand on his chest as you steadied yourself. Your eyes met his and you hated how you melted a little at their sparkle. He always had the prettiest eyes, round with expressive mocha irises that burned your heart. Even his lashes were pretty, long and curved like he was a newborn fawn made to be fawned at. Gathering your drunken thoughts, you came to a single conclusion.

Honesty. Best case scenario, this Jungkook was just imaginary and would disappear soon. Worst case scenario, he was real and since you had already humiliated yourself, you couldn’t dig a deeper hole.

“I did mean it! I love you, you dumb idiot,” you announced, your words surprisingly clear. Yet Jungkook still laughed, rolling his eyes as he settled you into bed, telling you again that you were drunk. But he didn’t understand and he had to understand.

“I’ve been in love with you since I saw you play in that dumb ultimate frisbee match when you were a freshman. When you lost your cool at that concert when a guy tried copping a feel. When you gave me a hug when my mom was in the hospital and everything seemed okay for a little while. I love you, Jeon Jungkook. I’ve always been insanely in love with your stupid, dumb face,” you ranted. Kneeling in front of you, Jungkook’s smile wavered into a concentrated frown, brows bunching together before he was smiling again and shaking his head.

“You love me, but you don’t love love me, Y/N,” he countered, making you groan in exasperation, hand coming to his mouth to silence him. Sometimes you hated him.

“You don’t get it, Jungkook! How do I even–” you sighed loudly, grabbing his shoulders to make him understand. But if your words wouldn’t work, maybe someone else’s would. “It is at moments after I have dreamed of the rare entertainment of your eyes, when (being fool to fancy) I have deemed with your peculiar mouth my heart made wise,” you quoted your favourite poet, eyes stuck on his. “Do you get it now?”

Jungkook stared at you for a moment, awestruck in a way that made you want to lean in and kiss him, but kissing without consent was bad, especially if he was looking for a way to reject you again. You still had at least some of your pride. And then he was laying you back and tucking you in, crushing your heart in his palm till it was dust that pricked your eyes, making them dry and watery all at once.

“We’ll talk about this in the morning, Trix. We shouldn’t when you’re not sober,” said softly, fingers running on your scalp before tracing away your tears. With all the alcohol in your system, your filter was off and all you had was misery.

“Can you at least just stay before you reject me? I need a hug,” you whispered, heartbeat accelerating when he climbed in next to you, engulfing you in his arms. He was so warm. Like your favourite blanket shielding you from the cold in the middle of winter. He needed to know the effect he had on you and even though you were feeling the drowsiness from all that whiskey, you wanted to let him in. He had to understand.

“I know you think I love you platonically. I don’t. I really don’t.”

Jungkook exhaled loudly, moving away so only his forearm acted as a pillow for you. Lying on his side he looked at you, eyes tracing your features as you tried your best to keep yours open.

“You’re drunk. We’ll talk about it in the morning,” he said finally. With mere inches between you, you felt your face heat, your thoughts pouring over your tongue without your consent.

“Jungkook, do you know what a spreader bar is?” you asked, staring at him as his eyes widened. He blinked slowly a few times before landing on his back, looking straight at the ceiling.

“Jesus… yes, Trix. I know what that is.”

“I want you to use it on me,” you continued, loose-lipped and hazy. There was no chance you’d remember this in the morning so why not just go all out and let him in on your fantasies. “Tie me up and bend me over. Fuck me so hard I forget my name. God, I wanna be pinned under you so bad.”

“Stop. Fuck… stop, please,” he whispered, his teeth worrying the inside of his cheek in a way you only saw when he was angry. Was he angry? Is that why even in the dim light of the room you could see his ears slowly turning red?

“Still think I like you platonically?” you asked, tone much more mischievous than you had planned. “Would you choke me? Make me lose my breath as you kiss me or will you be nice and gently hold my jaw when you kiss me? I think about that a lot, you know.”

He groaned, his free arm coming to rest over his eyes. He seemed resigned and somehow that made you grin, especially when he sighed loudly before speaking. “Fucking hell Y/N… please just go to sleep.”

“I wanna feel your tongue between my thighs and—“ Before you could finish, he turned, a hand coming to rest gently over your lips.

“Sleep! You need to go to sleep!” he exclaimed in a panic that made your nerves tingle and your stomach warm.

“Why?” you mumbled against his fingers before he removed them.

“Cause you’re making me hard and I need you to be sober when I tell you I love you too,” he replied in a whine that was equal parts adorable as it was surprising. Did he say he loved you too? What a ridiculous concept! You were positive you were imagining him now.

“Wow, you really are a hallucination,” you giggled. This was a nice dream. You liked how all the edges of light were soft in it, how it seemed as if you were floating in bliss. Dream Jungkook was amazing. He felt so real. You wished you never woke up. Especially when exasperated by your chuckles, his arm wound around you and pulled you close, plastering you to his body.

“Does that feel like a hallucination to you?” he rasped, his exhale hitting on your forehead. His comment diverted your attention to the weight poking against your stomach. You wanted to rub up against him but your body felt heavy, powerless against the haze around you.

“Go to sleep now,” he ordered softly and you couldn’t help how your eyelids fluttered shut at his words. Drowning in his scent of fresh lavender laundry, you felt safe and coddled and finally sleepy.

“You’ll be here when I wake up?” you asked, needing the confirmation that the comfort of his arms wouldn’t disappear, even when you sure he was just a figment of your imagination.

“I’ll be here, Trix. Go to sleep.”

“I love you. I really do, you know,” you assured him, getting a giggle in response.

“I’m starting to believe you do, yes.” You felt his lips land on your forehead, so soft and warm that it felt as if falling into slumber was the easiest thing to do. You wrapped your arms around him, snuggling in closer, enjoying the steady beat of his heart as he whispered once again.

“Good night, Y/N.”

—————

Your head was pounding when you woke up. A drummer having its solo, double bass and all. With a groan you opened your eyes to an unmade bed and curtains wide open to the infuriating morning sun. Needles prickling your throat, you say up only to be interrupted by the smell of bacon, the heavenly grease so inviting that your dry mouth watered instantly.

Why was someone making bacon at your home? Last you checked you lived alone.

Slow as molasses, you got out of bed, your eyes zoning onto the glass of water and a few painkillers sat on your bedside table. Without further ado, you drowned the glass, the relief near instant.

And with the relief came the memories. Whiskey. Wuthering Heights. Jungkook. Confessions. Spreader bars. And Jungkook’s words that were no longer so innocent in the morning light.

“Cause you’re making me hard and I need you to be sober when I tell you I love you too.”

Holy. Fuck. Was that real? Did Jungkook really just confess to you? Did you really feel him when he pulled you close last night?

All semblance of a hangover dissolved in the sudden adrenaline rushing through you, pumping your heart into a frenzy that propelled your legs to carry you to the kitchen. Jungkook stood at the stove, frying bacon as he hummed something under his breath. You stared at him as he worked undisturbed, frying bacon, before snapping his fingers and rushing to the plastic bag at the end of your breakfast nook.

You had decided to watch him quietly but as soon as he pulled out the red box, laughter bubbled through you, effervescent and fizzling. He stared at you, joining you with his own giggles as he walked over waving the box of cereal.

“Trix for my Trix,” he said with a grin that scrunched his nose and made his eyes disappear. So cute that your heart skipped a beat and your filter disappeared.

“So I made you hard?” you asked, immediately slapping a hand over your mouth. Perhaps you were still drunk. Jungkook on the other hand just chuckled, bowing his head and running his hand over the nape of his neck. His dark hair fell into his face, covering the blush you loved so much.

“Yeah. Yeah you did,” he confirmed sheepishly.

The silence between you was a little stunted; awkward and too long for people who were meant to be best friends. Before long, Jungkook was distracted by the task of making breakfast, his attention on the pan as he cooked scrambled eggs and bacon, plating them for the two of you. The silence continued as you ate, but you weren’t one to hold your tongue for too long, wanting to just rip the bandaid off and address the very giant elephant in the room.

“Can you please reject me already? This is too embarrassing,” you bemoaned, trying to drown the prickly heat that climbed up your neck with orange juice. Jungkook’s fork paused on the way to his mouth, his eyes large and alert. He swallowed loudly, placed the fork back on his plate and then cleared his throat.

“I… I’m not gonna reject you,” he said softly, his tone so gentle it made you curl your hands into fists to brace yourself for the opposite. “I just… I still can’t believe you love me too…”

You always read about how time slows when you are having a stroke. But you were also meant to smell burnt toast and right now other than the smell of the delicious breakfast in front of you, there was nothing suspicious. Yet, your heart was racing, your palms were sweating and you could feel your legs quivering even when you were sitting down.

“Too?” you asked in disbelief and he nodded, smiling but infuriatingly quiet. Slamming your fist on the table, much to Jungkook’s amusement, you glared at him. “Please spell it out like I spelled it out for you,” you seethed.

“Yes, Trix. I love you. Ever since you walked into my dorm room two days after we met, pulled the plug on my PC, made me lose my ranked game and demanded I go outside and make new friends,” he teased with an eye roll.

“Are you fucking serious?”

“Yes. If you stayed last night instead of running back here and reenacting Doctor Sleep, we could’ve talked it out,” he grumbled, the smile still ever present. With a shake of his head, he stood up, making his way over to you and pulling you up from your seat. Eyes blinking and hands shaking, you looked up at him, your skin burning where it touched you – one hand on the small of your back and the other at the nape of your neck. His thumb caressed your jaw as his eyes traced over your face.

You felt light headed, your breaths too quick to catch, each nerve ending sparking relentlessly. You bit your lip in an anticipation that only made Jungkook move slower, leaning closer and closer till his nose was brushing against yours lightly. His lips barely touched yours and you were frozen, relishing his breath on your skin, fingers curling into the material of his shirt on his chest.

“Kiss me,” you requested, earning a giggle from your tease of a best friend.

“Okay,” he whispered, finally sealing your lips. It wasn’t the rough kiss of your fantasies, nor  gentle innocence of your daydreams. It was searing, tilting your world on its axis. It felt like he was breathing fire into you, yet your whole body was erupting into goosebumps. It felt like colours bursting in the wind.

It was life changing and you wanted more.

Wrapping your arms around his neck, you stood on your toes to deepen the kiss and he easily acquiesced, his arms fitting perfectly around your waist. His lips moved against yours, the tip of his nose grazing ever so lightly against your cheek. When you moaned against him, too overwhelmed to see anything but stars, he picked you up and placed you on the table, easily fitting between your legs. With a hand on your neck, his thumb gently pulled at your chin till his tongue met yours, making you shiver so violently that he broke away with a laugh, his forehead resting on yours as he caught his breath.

“More,” you asked and his lips met yours once again. This was better than anything you could've ever imagined. You didn’t know how long you kissed, but all you knew was that you never wanted to stop. Especially when he nipped your lower lip in a way that sent a current zapping all the way down to your toes. And then his lips slowed until he was pecking at you, once, twice, three times, his hands cradling your jaw.

Dazed, all you could say was, “Are you going to fuck me on this table?” and Jungkook laughed, loud and boisterous, hugging you to his chest. And what a great chest it was.

“But don’t I need to go get a spreader bar and some bondage tape for that?” he asked with a grin, kissing your forehead, once, twice, three times.

“I mean… we could do that next time?”

“If you think after years of being in love with you, I’m going to let you have your first time on the kitchen table, you are sorely mistaken, Trix,” he replied, a finger coming up to boop your nose.

“Virginity is a social construct!” you protested, but Jungkook just shook his head, kissing away your complaints.

“You fell in love with a romantic, so let me romance you,” he whispered, hands tangled with yours, his words sending a warmth through you.

You never thought you would be someone who would enjoy being romanced. But when Jungkook drove you to the park for your first date with a picnic he had packed from his early morning grocery run, he proved you wrong. Sitting on the grass with Jungkook’s arm around you, you thought about all the books in your collection, and how with their endless words they still couldn’t capture the glow of your love fulfilled.

Perhaps reality was better than pretty hallucinations after all.

-

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[caelesjjk]

sanguine - jjk- part one

⟶title: sanguine

⟶au: vampire au, arranged marriage au, royalty au

⟶ pairing: vampire king!jungkook x human queen fem reader

⟶ rating: 18+

⟶ genre: romance, kinda slow burn?, smut, angst

⟶wc: 10.5k

⟶warnings: some swearing, mentions of blood, lots of sexual tension, one kiss, a bit angsty, reader is a badass. No smut for this part my fellow horny bitches, but there is certainly smut in the future.

⟶ summary: Marry the vampire king. Save the kingdom.

Your father is the king of a rare human kingdom that has been plagued by famine and sickness. And in a last ditch effort to save the kingdom, he has arranged for you to marry the vampire king to the north. Your hand in marriage in exchange for his help in saving your kingdom.

Everything you swore could never happen between the two of you begins to unfold as you spend more time in the vampire kingdom with its king and his subjects. Can you learn to love this place and it’s beloved ruler?

⟶ authors note: hi friends. this has been a whirlwind of a fic and this is only part one lol. it’s my baby in a way because I’ve had this idea for so long. I started writing it long before my king decided to actually grace us all with his vampire concept for his folio. that only encouraged me more to get this done.

A few shoutouts need to be made because without these people I don’t think I’d ever finished this. @jeonjcngkook jords, not only did you beta the shit out of this, but you’ve been there for me while I’ve written it and listened to me whine and cry for weeks. u have no idea how much it means. @haliiimede for reading through and convincing me that it wasn’t trash and giving me such lovely feedback. And also a huge thanks to @tea4sykes for reading through and encouraging me the whole way, ur the best Kay. @missgeniality siya, you absolute angel, I literally owe you big time for this amazing banner. and thank you for making me a new one when jungkook dropped all the vampire content lol. It’s so stunning.

(Vows found at vampireweddings.blogspot.com)

Alright enough blabbing, please enjoy! Send me all the feedback!

For the good of the kingdom.

For the good of mankind.

That was what your family kept telling you…no, they insisted that this was the only way.

Your father’s kingdom had become wrought with sickness, famine, and the people were starving. All of the resources available had been drained, there was nothing left.

And so, in a desperate plea for help, your father went to the vampire kingdom in the north, with whom your kingdom shared a border. And while the vampire king was willing to help, he wanted to make sure that this alliance was official and binding. He asked that you marry him to join your kingdoms, and that way there would be no reason for any type of betrayal.

You hated the idea. You fought it with everything that you had. The vampires disgusted you with their lust for blood and their strange habits. It was the worst thing you thought could happen.

But your father was right, it was the only choice your kingdom had left, and you had a duty to the people.

With that realization, is how you find yourself under this gorgeous oak tree in the middle of the night. The stars and moon and a few scattered candles are the only light to be found in this open field.

“Welcome one and all, witnesses to both His Highness the King and ______, princess of the human kingdom to our South, as they pledge their dedication to walk the night together. From the night we come, to the night we go, Cursed or blessed to walk the moonlight alone.”

The wedding dress that is chosen for you to wear is dark crimson, a bloody reminder of just who exactly is standing before you. With full lace skirts that drag against the ground, it’s light, airy even. It feels incredibly soft against your skin as your finger tips brush against the fabric but none of that matters as you still feel like you’re suffocating. It’s the absolute opposite of the dress you imagined yourself wearing on your wedding day but it is tradition here in the vampire kingdom for the bride to wear red.

“Sometimes another soul walks our path, Then two become one, in love everlasting. Come forward, Children of the Blood, And welcome this couple to your brood, Within each other, these two are found, Bear witness as their souls are bound.”

The hardest part of this is that it needs to be believable, and at the same time, the subjects from both kingdoms wanted you and the king to hate each other. So the wedding had to be done with official vows, ones that made it sound like the two of you were in love. It makes your stomach churn as the priest continues to speak.

“Please bring your left wrists forward towards me.” The priest said with a soft smile. Though it was gentle, his fangs are still visible, sending a shiver down your spine.

He takes out a red sash from his pocket and gently ties it around both of your wrists, Jungkook’s cold skin brushes against yours and makes you jump slightly. Though it’s as cold as stone, it’s also as soft as cashmere.

Finally, you allow yourself to look up at the man standing next to you.

You hate that he is so beautiful. Possibly the most beautiful being you have ever seen. Soft, thick, black hair slightly smoothed back away from his forehead, eyes almost as black as his tresses and lips that were sharp and hued pink.

When he catches you staring for a bit too long, he merely smirks and turns his attention to you.

“Sorry.” The king mouths to you, no sound coming from his mouth. You look back towards the priest quickly. He holds out a golden goblet beneath your bound wrists.

“Stand now as ye will stand forever, Like this crimson cloth your hearts are tethered, This goblet's contents are your symbols of devotion, So take the rings from the Goblet.”

Your hand shakes violently as you reach into the cup to retrieve the silver band that is to be placed on Jungkook’s right finger. You swallow thickly as you toy with the silver band in between your fingers, your pulse quickening because you know that not only can Jungkook hear the beating sounds of your heart, but all the other vampires present as well. Jungkook does the same with your wedding ring but with more confidence in his motions.

The ring he holds for you is a silver band as well, but it also contains a dark shaded ruby, cut into the shape of a blood drop or possibly a tear in the case of this marriage. But even then, it was stunning.

“______, please repeat these vows after me:

I will stand by your side, hunt at your back, and fly within your Soul. I will stand between you and all which would harm you. I will shield you from the Light of Day with my flesh. I will never betray you, for you are my Heart, my Soul and my Life.”

These vows had been written hundreds of years ago, meant for two vampires binding themselves together…not a vampire king and someone like you who is so very human. But you say them anyway, your heart still hammering in your chest as you turn your body towards the king and take his hand into yours, noticing just how soft his hands are before you slip the ring onto his awaiting finger.

“I will stand by your side, hunt at your back…” You pause when your voice shakes for a moment, “and fly within your Soul. I will stand between you and all which would harm you. I will shield you from the Light of Day with my flesh. I will never betray you, for you are my Heart, my Soul and my Life.”

You place the ring onto his finger and release the breath you have been holding the entire time. Jungkook smiles and takes your hand into his.

“King Jungkook, please repeat the vows to your bride.”

Jungkook waits a moment for you to look up at him, his eyes hold yours and his thumb rubs gently over the back of your hand. You wish you could pull it away…even more, you wish you wanted to pull it away.

“I will stand by your side, hunt at your back, and fly within your Soul. I will stand between you and all which would harm you. I will shield you from the Light of Day with my flesh. I will never betray you, for you are my Heart, my Soul and my Life.” His voice is alluring and even, as if he isn’t nervous about this at all. He slides the ring down your finger and lets it sit perfectly against your warm skin.

The priest hands the goblet to one of his assistants and turns back to the two of you after you’ve both finished.

“Above you are the stars, below you are the stones. As time passes, remember, like the star should your love burn brightly, like the stone should your love be firm. Be close, yet not so close that you restrict one another. Possess one another, yet grant each other the freedom to grow. Be understanding and compassionate, and have patience with each other, for storms may come, but they will quickly pass. Be free in giving affection and warmth. Fear not, lest the ways or words of the unenlightened give you unease.” He clasps his hands over your joined ones before he finishes the last part of the ceremony.

“As both your arms and the cloth form the symbol of eternity, may your love endure through this life and all others. As the Gods and the old ones are witness, with those of us present now, I proclaim them Husband and Wife, and thus are they bonded in Blood. The Two are now one. I present to you the Blood King Jungkook and Queen ______ forever bound, eternally free! You are husband and wife for all eternity. You may now kiss each other to seal your eternal bond of love.” The priest opens his arms and presents the two of you to the guests.

A kiss…was it necessary? Would they believe you if you didn’t kiss him? Would he be able to resist biting you? Would he taste of blood on his lips? So many thoughts plagued your mind in the moments before he cupped your cheek and tilts your face towards his.

“It’s just a kiss.” Jungkook whispered, only loud enough for you to hear. Your eyebrows scrunch together in confusion at his gentle touch.

“One kiss.” You step forward and wrap the arm holding your bouquet behind his back as he leans down to mold his lips against yours.

You weren’t expecting the softness of them, assuming that their appearance would be deceiving. His cool hand on your cheek brings you just the slightest bit closer as your lips brush over his once…twice…three times before your brain catches up with you and you remember who you are kissing.

There are whispers amongst the wedding guests who watch the scene unfold in front of them. Some with disgust. Some with curiosity. However even with the divided opinions in the crowd, they all share the same opinionated attitude. You try to ignore them as best you can.

Your lips separate from his a little too quickly and your hand immediately flies up to cover your mouth and the gasp that escapes you. Jungkook smiles, a flash of fangs when his lips pull back, and gently touches the veil hanging from your head and cascading over your shoulders. He takes your free hand in his and turns you both towards the guests, who clap but don’t seem to be pleased.

“And now the crowns.” The priest turns back to his assistants and picks up the crown that belongs to Jungkook first. The king bends slightly at the waist and the crown is placed gently atop his head.

The crown looks too perfect on him, black and silver metal twisted into spikes with small red gems at the base. It’s as if he has always worn one, perfectly designed with Jungkook in mind. And maybe he has, you don’t know how long he’s been the king after all.

You hadn’t actually seen your crown until this moment. The priest picks it up from a black silk pillow and presents it to you to observe. Like Jungkooks, it too is also made from black and silver metal twisted into even more dramatic spikes. Large, jagged diamonds and rubies cover it in its entirety. It looks ridiculously heavy, and when the priest places it on your head, you find your assumption to be correct. Heavy and cold.

From somewhere nearby, horns and trumpets start to play, signaling the end of the ceremony. Jungkook takes your hand again, and the two of you make your way back down the makeshift aisle your father had nervously walked you down less than an hour ago, and already things feel so different.

You’re quickly whisked away by carriage. The space inside doesn’t feel big enough, you can’t get far enough away from him, but he simply stays on his side of the bench seat and doesn’t move towards you on the ride back to the castle.

Once you’ve arrived, you’re met at the doors by Jungkook's advisor, Namjoon, who you had met a few times beforehand during meetings with Jungkook and your father. He has a kind face, gentle like he could do no harm, but that did not change the fact that he is a still a vampire. Standing next to him is the Captain of the vampire kingdom's army, Yoongi. You had also met him previously, but he doesn’t speak much unless it’s to Jungkook regarding the royal army.

“Did everything go accordingly?” Namjoon asks as the two of you ascend the stairs to the castle.

“It was my wedding, Namjoon, not a transaction.” Jungkook moved to the side and motioned with his hand for you to walk ahead of him through the doors.

“Is that not exactly what this is?” You hear Namjoon say just before you’re inside, Jungkook sighing as he follows.

“He’s right.” You grumble.

“Beg your pardon?” Jungkook says from beside you, his hands clasped behind his back as the two of you walk towards the great hall where the celebration and dinner is being held.

“It wasn’t a real wedding. It’s part of a bargain.” You stop to face him and he does the same, looking at you bewildered.

“Perhaps the circumstances aren’t ideal, but the wedding was real, my queen.” He bows to you, and you’re sure the scowl on your face is as deep as they come.

“Let’s get this night over with.” You grab the skirt of your dress in your fists and begin stomping off towards the great hall. You can hear Jungkook laugh quietly, but you choose to ignore him.

You’re forced to mingle, your hand wrapped through Jungkook's arm as the two of you make rounds through the room. You absolutely despise the whole experience. But soon enough, you’re thankfully seated at the head table and wine is poured into your cup.

You notice that yours and your parents' place settings are the only ones with plates. But of course they would be, no one else in this damned kingdom eats food.

Downing the first glass of wine in one gulp, you signal for an attendant to bring you another one. You can feel Jungkook's eyes on you as you down one glass after another, unable to bring yourself to care about what he could possibly be thinking.

“Do you want any?” You finally ask him after your third glass. A very unladylike hiccup following.

“I think you know the answer to that question already, my queen.” He smiles softly but his jaw is tight with annoyance.

“I’m not your queen.” You say a little too loudly. Some of the guests begin turning their attention to you.

“You have every right to be angry, _____.” Jungkook tries to say under his breath, but you scoff loudly, reaching for the bottle of wine and rudely snatching it from the attendant.

“Angry? That does not even begin to cover it. I am outraged.” You take a swig from the bottle and laugh bitterly. “I am disgusted…and I am not your queen. You and your people are just…fucking vile.” You look up from the bottle of wine to see a look of horror on your father’s face from where he sits at the next table. You know you’ve said too much. You’ve been cruel. “Jungkook…” You start to correct yourself but he cuts you off by standing up from his chair with so much force that it flies back against the wall, causing the guests to look up and stare.

“One thing you are not going to do is insult my people. You can say all the terrible things you want about me, but not them. Not when they’ve given up so much so that your people can live.” He grabs your wrist and pulls you to your feet. “Let’s go.”

“Let go of me.” You try to pull your wrist away, but it’s no use against his inhuman strength. “Release me this instant!” Jungkook continues to pull you towards the door, your legs wobbly from wine and the heels on your feet.

“The evening is over. You need to sleep it off.” He pushes open the door and drags you into the dimly lit hallway.

“I am not sleeping with you!” Even though it’s futile, you scratch and pull at the sleeve of his embroidered jacket.

“As if I’d expect that of you.” Jungkook scoffs and swings you around to face him. He maneuvers your body until you’re pressed against the wall with your arms above your head, one of his hands pinning your wrists there.

“Let go!” You try to kick at him but he dodges every time.

“Whether you like it or not, my queen, this is your home now and these are your people. I have and will continue to do what’s best for everyone involved, including you.” His eyes are almost pitch black, a deep red threatening to spill into the iris’ as he speaks through his clenched teeth.

You must stop forgetting that Jungkook is a monster.

“You know nothing of what’s best for me.” You begin moving to spit in his face, but he knows what you are about to do before you have even finished the thought. His free hand comes up to cover your mouth, leaving you to glare at him without being able to talk.

“Listen carefully, my queen.” The grip on your wrists tightens slightly. “You are not the only one making sacrifices around here. So when you decide you want to act like royalty and not some drunken heathen, by all means come to me.” You jerk around in his hold, you just want him to get the hell away from you. He seems to understand your request as he slowly takes his hand away from your mouth.

“I fear you’ll be waiting a very long time, your highness. Possibly until my death, but I’m sure you’ll find that day ever so joyous.” You use your body weight to push at him once more and he finally releases you, but stays in close vicinity.

“Don’t assume you know anything about what I find joyous.” Jungkook looks over his shoulder towards the guards who are standing near the doorway to the hall. “Escort her majesty to her chambers, she’s not to leave them for the night.” Jungkook straightens his shirt and jacket, and begins making his way back towards the dinner hall.

“You can’t just lock me away! Do you hear me?” One of the guards motions for you to walk towards the opposite hallway.

“No more talking tonight. Go to sleep.” Jungkook says over his shoulder before he disappears into the dinner hall. You scoff loudly, taking off walking as fast as your drunken legs will allow you to go.

“Stupid, ignorant, pig headed blood sucker.” You grumble under your breath as you continue down the hallway. The dim lighting from the candles doesn’t allow you to see much, but you can see there is art on the walls that you would rather enjoy if you were not so pissed off. And if they did not belong to the most ridiculous man you had ever met.

The guards lead you to a winding staircase where you quickly find out that in your drunken state you are unable to climb them unassisted. At the top of the first set of stairs they split, one set going left and the other going right. The guards gesture for you to head to the left.

“And where does the right go?” You ask with a hiccup.

“To the king's chambers.” One of them replies. Jungkook had not been lying, he really had prepared your very own chambers. You reach the doors to your bedroom soon after.

One of the guards opens the door for you to enter the room. You cross your arms over your chest and practically stomp inside, turning around to face them.

“Your king is sadly mistaken if he thinks he can lock me up for the rest of my life. I’d rather die.” You aren’t sure what you expect them to say, but they merely bow before shutting the door.

As soon as it clicks shut, you grab the skirt of your dress into your hands and begin ripping the fabric apart, tossing the pieces around the room.

“Stupid, ridiculous, hideous dress.” You screech, grabbing the sleeves at the shoulders and ripping them apart too. You bend down to grab the heels off your feet, stumbling around before yanking them off and chucking them as far away from you as possible.

Your chest heaves with short breaths as you feel yourself burning with rage. Reaching up into your hair, you hastily pull out as many of the pins holding it into place as you can. You start to walk towards the wardrobe when you catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror on the far wall. You look like a forest witch. And not the good kind.

Changing your mind about finding other clothes, you begin to notice that there isn’t much in your room. A few vases with fresh flowers and a bed with soft, silky white sheets. There’s a white fur rug at the foot of it and a very large trunk atop that. There’s also a small fireplace in the corner with a few small logs in a basket nearby. The room was otherwise quite empty.

Looking through another set of double doors, you find the washroom. There’s a claw foot tub in one corner with several shelves of soaps and oils on the wall behind it.

As badly as you want to bathe, you need to find ways to protect yourself. Weapons. You need to learn the layout of the castle so that you know where all the exits are at all times. And you also need to find some food. Food in a castle full of creatures who don’t eat it. You sigh loudly, almost tripping over some pieces of your skirt on the marble floor.

Looking down at what's left of your wedding dress on your body is almost laughable. It’s mostly just the bodice and a few pieces covering your lower region in a tattered disarray. You cannot bring yourself to care, this dress was a mistake. It was all a mistake.

You walk out onto the balcony and see a ledge that looks just big enough for you to make your way over to the next room. Wasting no time, you swing your leg over the side, feeling a bit dizzy and suddenly remembering that you’re still quite drunk. But there is no time to sober up now, you have missions to complete.

Still barefoot, you balance onto the ledge and carefully side step your way along the stone. It's only about ten feet from your balcony to the next one.

You get a little too ahead of yourself and almost slip just once, but manage to climb over the railing of the next balcony successfully. You slink over to the window and peer inside, seeing what appears to be an empty guest room. Trying the handle for the doors, you’re overly pleased to find that they are unlocked.

Once inside, you press yourself against the wall and move towards the bedroom door. You pray that once you open it, there will be no vampire guards waiting for you. You have yet to secure a weapon and this might be your only chance to do so when so many of the castle's occupants are still at your wedding reception.

Slowly, you open the door, poking your head outside to see the guards are still occupied with watching over your bedroom door. You silently thank the gods, tip toeing into the hall, you're able to make a mad dash as soon as you’ve rounded the corner and gotten out of the guards sight.

You run until you find the winding staircase that you had come upstairs on. Its familiar shape lets you know that you’re going the right way. Eyes darting from side to side, you descend the stairs, making sure there are no vampires lurking about in the halls.

With absolutely no idea where you are going, you take the hallway to the left, and to your surprise, you smell food. The scent gets stronger and more distinct the further you travel down the hallway. You notice a swinging door, the sounds of clanging pans and a soft voice coming from inside. You brave a peek inside the small round window on the door, the person inside has their back to you for a moment, but when they turn around to face you, you almost cry.

Hoseok.

You shove open the swinging door with all your might, jumping onto a very unsuspecting Hoseok, who screams bloody murder at the sight of you. He almost falls backwards, but catches himself on the corner of the counter.

“Get off of me, witch!” Hoseok yells, reaching for a frying pan in hopes to knock out the creature currently hugging his torso.

“Oh, Hoseok, I’m so happy to see you.” You cry into his chef's coat.

“______? Is that really you?” He grabs your shoulders and moves you back to get a look at you. “My god, it really is you. What the hell happened to you?” He picks up a piece of your dress from the floor that must've fallen off in your rush to get to him.

“How are you here? Why?” You sniffle, tears streaming down your face.

“The king asked me to come stay here and be your chef…since you know, they don’t eat food and you do.” Hoseok pats the top of your head affectionately.

Hoseok is your closest friend. You had grown up together back in your father’s kingdom. His mother had been a long time servant of your parents, the most loyal that you could ask for. Hoseok had inherited that particular trait from her. He began cooking as you got older and soon became one of the best chefs in your kingdom. You were very surprised when you heard your father was so willing to let him go.

“My father let you come? Who will make him those banana pancakes he loves so much?” You laugh, wiping your face so you can get a better look at him, making sure that he’s really here in front of you.

“No, not your father, I meant King Jungkook. He apparently gave your father a rather large sum to make sure that I came here to cook for you.” Hoseok shrugs his shoulders and smiles widely.

“Why would he do that?” You hiss.

“I don’t know, _____. Maybe he just wanted you to be comfortable here.” Hoseok gives you another small hug, then moves around you to continue what he was working on before.

“I find that hard to believe.” You scoff.

“Do you want to explain why the hell you look like a swamp witch?” Hoseok is packaging some food and placing it into the cold room that was filled with ice.

“I…may have gotten drunk at the reception…and got sent to my rooms like a child. And I may have thrown a fit of rage about it.” You plop yourself down on a wooden stool in the corner of the kitchen. You learned a long time ago not to get in his way when he was working.

“You? Throw a fit? Could not imagine such a thing.” He laughs before closing the door to the cold room. “So you haven’t eaten?”

“No. I’m starving Hoseok, please make me food.” You whine to your friend and he rolls his eyes in response.

“You’re lucky I don’t beat you with this plate of food. I made this damn dinner for the reception and they brought your plate back to me untouched? You’re on thin ice my friend.” Hoseok pulls a plate of food from the oven that he had been keeping warm there and sits it in front of you.

“Have I ever told you that I love you?” You don’t bother waiting for him to hand you any utensils as you grab the food with your hands, dismissing the fact that it’s too hot to be eating. You’re too hungry to care.

“One day in the vampire kingdom and you’ve already lost your mind.” Hoseok places a fork beside your plate, but still, you ignore it.

“Do you have knives in here?” Your face lights up, looking around the kitchen.

“I’m a little hesitant to give you any sharp objects right now _____.” Hoseok looks at you with concern reaching his face.

“It’s for protection, Hobi. We’re the only two humans for miles, aren’t you a bit concerned about that?” Your mouth is half full of food as you speak and Hoseok looks disgusted as you stand up and start rifling through his kitchen.

“Of course it’s a little…unsettling. But the king isn’t going to let anything happen to us. Especially you.” Hobi walks behind you, picking things up as you make a mess. You scoff at the last part.

“He cares about me as much as I care about him, which is not at all.” You finally find the drawer that holds the kitchen knives. “Finally! Why didn’t you tell me where they were?”

“Because I think you’re slightly insane.” He puts his hands up in front of him in surrender when you turn around to face him, knife in hand.

“I’m not insane. I’m being…prepared.” You close the drawer and move back towards the kitchen door, peaking out into the hallway through the circular window. You don’t see any movement.

You aren’t sure where to keep this knife if you finally managed to get your hands on, looking around the kitchen for something to use.

“Here, just use this.” Hoseok sighs, handing you a long leather string. “Wrap it around your thigh, that's what all the female warriors do.”

Looking at Hobi inquisitively, wondering how he could possibly know that bot of information, you take the string from his hand and wrap it around your thigh until you can tie it. You’re able to secure the knife between the leather well enough for now.

“Do you even know how to kill a vampire, ____? Is a knife even going to work?” Hoseok crosses his arms over his chest as he looks at you.

“Father told me once that you have to remove their heads.” You don’t look at him, just continue looking into the hallway.

“And a kitchen knife is going to remove a vampire's head!? I’m going to pretend you didn’t get that from me if anyone asks.” Hoseok motions towards your knife with his head before he goes back to cleaning up the mess you had left in your wake.

“I’m going to go look around some more. I’ll come find you later.” You look at him now, as he picks things up off the floor.

“Please don’t.” He teases, crossing the small kitchen to stand in front of you. “Be careful roaming around this castle.”

“I’ll be fine, Hobi.” You wrap an arm around him and he does the same to you, giving each other a much needed hug. He kisses the top of your head before he lets you go.

“Go on then, Blood Queen. I’ll bring you your breakfast in the morning.” He shoos you away.

“Do not call me that.” You glare at your friend. “Eggs and lots of coffee?”

“As you wish.” He rolls his eyes again and you can’t help but smile.

Pushing open the swinging door, you carefully step out into the hallway, keeping your back pressed to the wall as you follow it through the castle.

There isn’t much to see. Some extra bedrooms, one room that looked like a study and one door that had led to a small patio. You mentally mapped that door in your head and hoped you could remember it well enough to write down when you got back to your rooms.

As you approached the end of the hallway you began to hear voices. You knew you should turn around but your curiosity was too much to battle with. So instead, you made your way to the double doors that had been left slightly ajar.

Inside, the room was full of vampires seated at a very long table. Jungkook is sitting at the head of it, his fingers adorned by silver rings, stroking his chin with worry. You aren’t sure how you know that he’s worried, but you just know. Namjoon paces the floor behind him, babbling to no one in particular it seemed. Yoongi, who is sitting to his right, still appears to be his quiet and stoic self. Not much different to how you saw him for the first time.

There are several others present around the table that you do not recognize. But the real question is why are they here instead of attending the wedding reception?

“Is this a threat we need to be prepared for sooner rather than later?” You finally hear Yoongi say, his voice deep and rumbly.

“We knew taking on the human kingdom was going to cause issues with Taehyung. Because not only did you agree to help them, you married the fucking princess.” Namjoon says, distaste thick in his voice.

“They required protection. This was how we gave them that.” Jungkook doesn’t bother looking up, he merely sits back in his chair and crosses his legs.

“At what cost? Why are we paying for their ignorance?” Namjoon continues to pace the floor behind Jungkook's chair.

It surprises you how Jungkook continues to defend your kingdom when he clearly did not have much reason to. It isn’t as if you had married him on happy terms. The only thing he is really getting out of this arrangement is land, and it isn’t like there is much of it to give in the first place. You’ve been so angry that you really had never taken the time to consider that.

“Excuse me for a moment.” Jungkook says, abruptly standing up from his chair.

You feel panic rise up as you notice that he’s heading towards the door that you’re still standing in front of. You look around the hall frantically, seeing a large statue in the corner to your left.

You dash towards it, trying to keep the sound of your bare feet padding across the marble floor as quiet as possible. You hear the door creak open all the way as you fling yourself behind the statue, flopping against the ground with a thud.

“Shit. Shit that hurts.” You whisper, trying to right yourself into a sitting position.

“Has anyone ever told you that you have the mouth of a sailor?” Jungkook is suddenly standing above you, making you jump with fright, banging your head against the statue that had apparently done nothing to hide you from him.

“Has anyone ever told you that it’s rude to just appear out of nowhere like a damn ghost?” You rub the back of your head and manage to get to your feet to stand in front of him. Jungkook scoffs, trying to hold back a laugh.

“What in the world have you done to your dress?” He asks, reaching towards your torn up skirt. Before he can touch them you slap his hand away, making your hand sting at the contact.

“I had a moment. Not that it’s any of your business.” You attempt to smooth out what’s left of the skirts at your waist.

“You look like a swamp witch.” Jungkook can’t help the smile that graces his face and you want to slap it away for being so beautiful.

“I do not!” You shove past him, stomping back down the hallway where you had come from.

“Would you please stop for a moment?” Jungkook calls after you.

“I will not.” You refuse to give him any further satisfaction. He does not seem to take the hint, his footsteps following after you.

You’ve had enough of him for one night. You reach into the band you had made and wrapped around your thigh to hold onto the kitchen knife you had gotten from the kitchen, spinning around and pointing the sharp end of the blade right at Jungkook’s throat, making him stop in his tracks in front of you.

“Where did you get a knife?” Jungkook dares to ask, an eyebrow raised in question.

“That is also none of your business.” You move the knife so close to his throat that the slightest movement could make you cut him.

“Were you keeping that knife strapped to your thigh?” Jungkook's voice lowers as he slowly raises his hands in surrender. You choose not to answer him, only stiffening your stance. “Incredibly violent…” Jungkook smiles and his fangs extend slightly, making you feel bewildered at his reaction.

“Why are you smiling?” You poke the tip of the knife against his skin.

“Because I like that you’re beautifully murderous.” Jungkook is suddenly out of your sight, making you whirl around to find him, only to be pressed roughly against the wall, the hand holding the knife anchored above your head.

“Get off of me!” You move to knee him in the groin but he’s too fast. Inhumanly fast.

“I want you to be a part of this, you know. I want you to help us help your people.” His grip tightens slightly the more you move around.

“Why?” You seethe.

“Because you’re the queen. My partner in this life. Why is that so hard for you to understand?” The look on his face is so sincere that it makes you halt your movements.

“Jungkook…this is not a real marriage. Why are you so convinced that it is?” With one last push, he releases you and takes a step back.

“I’ll spend the rest of my days trying to make you see that it is.” Jungkook tells you with a quiet sigh. “But for the time being, please just come inside and listen to what we’re speaking about. You should be a part of it too.”

You feel the tiniest sliver of hatred melt away from your heart. It makes your chest feel lighter, like you can breathe a little easier. You don’t understand it. You don’t understand him. But you can’t deny that you want to know what’s going on in that meeting room.

“Fine. Let’s go.” You rip your eyes away from his face before it becomes too noticeable that you were looking at him at all.

“Do you perhaps want to change first?” Jungkook asks. “The dress has become rather revealing.”

You glare at him before propping your foot up against the wall, exposing your bare leg to him. You slide the kitchen knife back into the homemade holster on your thigh, adjusting it slightly and letting your foot slip back to the ground as you keep direct eye contact with the vampire king.

“No. I think I’ll attend the meeting just as I am.” You can’t help but smirk a little, pointing your nose to the ceiling before making your way into the meeting room. Jungkook laughs quietly in disbelief, but follows you inside.

All the eyes in the room are suddenly on you. One of the men sitting at the table visibly chokes on air as he watches you walk into the room and takes in your appearance.

“I suggest you get yourself together, Seokjin.” Jungkook walks ahead of you to pull out the chair to the left of his for you.

“Apologies, your highness.” The man named Seokjin splutters slightly, then straightens in his chair.

“Were you attacked, my lady?” Yoongi says, his voice low but still holding a bit of concern.

“No…I was…it's nothing. Don’t let my clothing distract you from the discussion.” You move around the table, choosing to ignore the chair Jungkook has pulled out for you, but instead decide to move to his chair at the head of the table and sit down there. “Shall we?” You ask, a smug look on your face.

“Incredible.” You hear Jungkook mumble under his breath, only meaning for you to hear it, but obviously all the other vampire ears in the room do as well, making everyone shift uncomfortably in their seats.

“Does the queen need to be present?” Namjoon remarks from the seat next to Yoongi.

“Yes, she does. And I won’t hear another thing about it.” Jungkook makes his point clear and moves to sit in the chair he had originally pulled out for you.

“Fine then. We need to start preparing for a war with Taehyung. And we also need to consider that in order to avoid it, we should give up the human kingdom. We don’t need it.” Namjoon is very monotone as he speaks about giving up your kingdom to an apparent enemy.

“Absolutely not.” You say without thought.

“No disrespect, your highness, but I was speaking to the king.” Namjoon dismisses you and you can feel anger start to bubble beneath your skin.

“You say that you mean no disrespect, but you’re sitting there suggesting that we turn over my kingdom, full of innocent people, to your enemy.” You lean forward in your seat, eyebrows scrunched in confusion as you look at the king's advisor.

“I’m not sure you understand the ramifications of going to war with Taehyung, your majesty. He is not to be underestimated.” Namjoon leans forward as well, meeting your gaze with a challenge in his eyes.

“Perhaps someone could explain to me who Taehyung is, and how he has become such a threat to the most powerful kingdom in this realm?” You don’t let your gaze fall from Namjoon’s, challenging him right back.

“If you two are finished with your vicious little disagreement you’ve got going, I would be honored to get the queen up to speed on the situation.” Seokjin says from a few chairs down. His voice makes you look away from Namjoon with a scowl on your face.

“Please. Tell me what you know.” You give Seokjin your attention, ignoring the mumbled curses Namjoon says under his breath.

“Taehyung is the king of the werewolf kingdom to our west, your highness. And I…well I know more than most about werewolves as I myself am one of them.” Seokjin looks up at you then, a golden glow flashing across his eyes when they meet yours.

“I’m confused. If you’re one of them, what are you doing here?” Your curiosity is peaked at this very unexpected bit of information.

“Well you see, my lady, I owe my life to your king. Many, many years ago he had mercy on me and I have pledged my loyalty to him until my dying day.” A smile plays at the corner of Seokjin’s mouth as he looks from you to Jungkook, who also shares the same smile of fondness on his face.

“He saved your life?” You ask, enthralled by this story. A vampire saving the life of a werewolf is unheard of, the two of them becoming friends is even more unheard of.

“He did. And now he has me at his side, even if he wishes I wasn’t at times.” He laughs a little and Jungkook’s smile grows wider.

“You’re too humble sometimes, hyung.” Jungkook says, sharing one last fond smile with Seokjin before he looks back at you. “Seokjin is vital to the way this kingdom is able to live and operate on a daily basis. Don’t let him talk lowly of himself.”

You wish their story wasn’t so endearing. That you didn’t feel a pang of something in your heart for the fondness they share for each other. But no matter how hard you try to bite back your smile, it betrays you, pulling your lips up slightly.

“I am happy to meet you, Seokjin.” You say, sharing one more look with him before the moment is interrupted.

“Could we get back to the point?” Namjoon says, obviously annoyed by the friendly conversation. Why was he so frumpy?

“Of course. My apologies.” Seokjin sits back in his chair with a small bow of his head.

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re a sour puss?” You say to Namjoon, almost causing Yoongi to choke on a laugh.

“My lady, this is not a joke. If you’re insistent on being involved, I beg you to take this seriously.” If Namjoon could blush, you suppose he would be at this point.

“I’m listening.” You roll your eyes a bit and turn to Jungkook, who is watching you with a smirk on his face.

“Taehyung isn’t happy about this…union. He believes your land should be his and we are almost positive he isn’t going to sit back and let it go.” Yoongi takes the initiative to explain this time.

“And for now, as I’ve said before, we double the guard at the border but we don’t engage. I’m not starting a war without reason.” Jungkook speaks now, everybody forwarding their attention to him. “And perhaps we need to set up a meeting with Taehyung.”

“A meeting? What do you hope to come of that, your majesty?” Namjoon looks with disbelief on his face.

“I’m avoiding a war at all costs. I won’t bring unnecessary danger to either of the kingdoms.” Jungkook stands up. “And this discussion is over for now. I’m sure the queen would like to sleep.” You nod, quickly being able to tell that Jungkook is done talking for tonight.

You stand from the table, bowing to the others who stand at the same time as you do to bow deeper in your direction. Jungkook motions for you to walk ahead of him with his hand as you take one last look over your shoulder at the men sitting at the table. More monsters than men…but it was easy to forget such a thing.

“I’m glad you joined us.” Jungkook's voice startles you from your thinking.

“Yes well…I won’t let anything happen to my people. We can’t just throw them to the wolves.” You hope he detects the seriousness in your voice.

“I hope that you can see that isn’t my intention. It never was.” Jungkook walks next to you, his arms crossed behind his back.

“As long as that is clear.” You reach the bottom of the stairs that lead up to your separate bed chambers, stopping on the bottom step and turn to look at Jungkook.

“Loud and clear, my queen.” Jungkook steps up closer and you almost trip over the step trying to create space. “Where is the knife now?”

“It will be in your chest if you do not step away from me.” You growl through your teeth, making Jungkook grin wickedly, fangs appearing under his lip.

“Beautiful and violent. Where have you been all my life, darling?” Jungkook steps up onto the stairs, making you stumble up a few more to get distance.

“You’re some kind of masochist, aren’t you?” You put your hand down onto the handle of the knife. Jungkook throws his head back in laughter. The sound is…certainly not what you expected. He seems so human as he laughs and tries to compose himself.

“Would you like to find out?” He takes one more step up towards you and you’ve had enough.

You lift your bare foot from the wooden stair and press it into the middle of his chest as he stands two steps down from you. You watch Jungkook's eyes as they take in what is happening, roaming over the exposed skin of your legs and thigh.

“Stop flirting with me.” You push slightly against his chest with your foot. “It’s very annoying.”

“Your heart is beating so quick, I’m not sure that you mean that.” Jungkook says in a low tone. The sound of his deep voice tries to pry its way between your thighs, but you won’t let it. “I think you rather like it, actually.”

“You’re not amusing, your highness.” You try to remain unfazed.

“You can’t lie to me. I can hear the blood rushing through your veins…and your breath struggling to even out.” Jungkook tries to take a step up but you push him back down with your foot.

“You’re delusional. Whatever you are hearing is simply because I am fending off a vampire, not because I find that vampire to be maddeningly beautiful.” You wish you had said that differently…surely he will know you’re lying now.

“Why do you fight it?” He questions.

“Fight what?”

“The attraction between us.”

“Because there isn’t any. None. It is nonexistent.” You shove your foot into his chest once more but he doesn’t budge of course.

“Liar.” Jungkook says quietly, you can feel his breath on the skin of your leg. His cool fingers come up to ghost over the skin of your ankle, allowing goosebumps to find home on your skin as your body betrays you even more. “Shall we test your theory?” Fingers continue their featherlight touch up your calf.

“You’re…it’s not affecting me at all.” Your voice shakes slightly as you fight to keep your eyes open.

“More lies, my queen.” When his fingers get to the inside of your thigh, your brain suddenly remembers what’s happening. You kick him in the chest with more force and Jungkook stumbles slightly, giving you a chance to jog up a few more stairs before you speak to him again.

“No more of your unrequited flirting. And especially touching. None of that.” You yell down to him, wishing you could smack the grin on his face.

“As you wish.” He bows to you.

“Goodnight, your highness.” You pull the knife out of your holster and point it towards him as you back your way up the rest of the stairs, making Jungkook laugh out loud again. You don’t look back this time as you dash your way down the hall to your bed chambers where the two guards are still standing. “I’ll be going to bed now.” You huff past them and into the room as quickly as possible.

You press your back against the cool wood of the door, trying to catch the breath you had not realized were holding . He was absolutely infuriating. Ridiculous. Egotistical. And yet… soft and endearing at times. Like when he was speaking to or about Seokjin. It is something you never expected to see.

Looking down at your hand, you see the wedding ring he had given you just a few short hours ago. Shaped like a drop of blood and every bit the color of it. You had forgotten all about it and now you aren’t sure you wanted to take it off. You and this ring have been through a lot already.

Finally, you bring yourself to move towards one of the tall armoires on the other side of the room. Perhaps it’s time to finally change out of your tattered wedding dress.

You look through some drawers until you finally find some silky night shorts and matching camisole. It seems revealing for pajamas, but you also don’t have the energy to keep digging for something else.

With a sigh, you head into the bathroom and make a beeline for that glorious claw foot tub in the corner of the room. You look around and notice the gold crusted faucets at one end of the tub.

Running water. The vampire kingdom had running water for baths. This was not a luxury that you had back in your human kingdom.

“Something decent has come from this.” You mumble to yourself as you turn on the faucets and watch the crystal clear water start to fill the basin of the tub. You grab one of the first glass bottles of soap that you can reach, breathing in its scent and finding it to be lavender. A scent you missed about the gardens in your father’s kingdom. You pour a plentiful amount into the stream of water and watch the bubbles begin to form and you can’t help but smile.

Stripping out of what’s left of your wedding dress, you toss it away and carefully step into the tub. The water is so warm already, instantly loosening your tired muscles and cleanssng your dirty skin. It felt like heaven.

Once the tub has filled you turn off the faucets and sink down into it. You let your head dip beneath the bubbles, letting it washclean your hair and , making it easier to pull the rest of the pins out of it.

It’s quiet in this washroom. Almost too quiet. So you decide not to dawdledauddle for too long, getting yourself cleaned up and grabbing a robe from one of the hanging hooks on the wall.

Making your way back into your bed chambers, you dress into the pajamas you had found earlier and climb into the bed. You feel alone all at once. Too alone with your thoughts.

How would your life play out now that you’re here? Married. To the king of vampires. Jungkook. The blood king.

You want to know more. Need to know more about him and this place.

In order for you to do that, you have to change your sleeping schedule. You need to be awake at night when everyone else is awake.

It took some time for you to get used to but after a couple of weeks you are able to get up and join the vampires during their meetings regarding Taehyung.

You are also able to explore the castle and its grounds more thoroughly. Finding it full of vast libraries and art from different centuries…different worlds it seemed.

Most recently though, you had discovered the gardens. Gardens that had been somewhat neglected by visitors if you were being honest. They were clean and well kept, but they were mostly empty. Not many flowers and things to fill all the spaces in between the manicured bushes and small trees. You wondered if it was because no one could come out during the day to care for them. And the more you thought about it, the sillier it seemed.

You love walking around outside nonetheless. Sitting on the stone benches and watching the fountains. But your urge to do more is constantly bouncing around in your mind.

Tonight, you find yourself changing into a pair of leggings and an oversized sweater. You had decided you were going to start digging around in the gardens, whether it is something a queen should do or not, you didn’t care. It would busy your mind and give you something productive to do.

“Where are you off to?” Hoseok calls behind you as you make your way to the back doors.

“To the gardens. I think I’m going to start digging around. Maybe plant some new things.” You turn to see the bright smile on his face. One of the few bright things here.

“There are groundskeepers for that, you know?” Hoseok teases as he approaches you, taking in your very unqueenly outfit.

“I am aware, Hobi. But I’m bored and I need to find something to occupy my time.” You wave him off with a sigh.

“Do you know where the gardening equipment is?” Hoseok asks, hands moving to his hips as he looks at you expectantly.

“Well…no. But I assume that you do?”

“Perhaps. What’s in it for me?” He continues to tease.

“I’m the queen, you have to tell me if I ask.” Your arms cross over your chest.

“Oh now you want to be the queen? Only when it benefits you, I see.”

“Come on, Hoseok, pleeeeease?” You’re growing tired of his antics.

“Let me use your bathtub twice a week, and I’ll tell you where it is.” He puts his hand out for you to shake.

“As if I would deny you that bathtub.” You laugh a little and shake his hand. “Come on then, to the gardening tools.” You jump onto his back as he turns around to lead the way, making him carry you.

“I don’t remember carrying your spoiled ass around being in my new job description.” Hobi laughs, adjusting you on his back so he can walk with more balance.

“It’s in your best friend job description, check your paperwork.” You place your chin on his shoulder and squeeze your legs tighter around his middle.

“Ridiculous.” He laughs louder, making his way towards the back doors to show you where to find the gardening tools.

Hoseok takes you to a small building outside the castle, inside of which are plenty of gardening tools for you to get started with your plans. He doesn’t stick around though, making his way back to the castle to finally get some sleep. Hobi is having a harder time adjusting to the new sleep schedule than you had.

With your arms full of shovels, rakes, and other tools you may or may not need, you find an area near the fountains that you plan to start with. The dirt in this area seems a bit dry and sad looking, so you think if you dig into the soil, you’ll be able to bring the good dirt to the top.

You spend a few hours tilling the soil and sure enough, it already looks so much better than it did before. And even though autumn is in full swing and you’re working by the light from the moon, you’re still a bit sweaty.

“I think digging your way out of here may be a bigger task than you bargained for.” A now familiar voice says from behind you, making you jump at the sudden sound.

“Will I have to live out the rest of my days here wondering when the next time you’ll give me a heart attack will be?” You place your hand over your hammering heart while Jungkook smiles.

“Apologies, my queen.” Jungkook walks closest to where you’re kneeling on the ground, his hands behind his back. “What is it that you’re doing exactly?”

“I’m gardening. Is that not obvious?” You sit the small shovel down and wipe your hands off on your thighs.

“Yes. But why?” He asks curiously.

“Something to do? A hobby? I’m tired of wandering around this castle like a ghost.” You look up at him when he comes to stand next to you. “Is that something I’m allowed to do, your highness?”

“You’re rather snarky for a queen.” Jungkook smiles again, the sharp points of his fangs showing behind his lips.

“I have been called much worse.” You huff, standing up from the ground, wobbling slightly from being in that position a bit too long.

Jungkook is inhumanly fast, gently steadying you on your feet. One hand on your hip and the other on your shoulder. His skin is so cold it sends a shiver through you, goosebumps covering your warm skin.

“So long as you’re here, no one will dare to call you anything less than you deserve.” His eyes are almost black as they meet yours. “Are you okay to stand?”

You shake away the trance you feel when you look at him, stepping back slightly and out of his hold.

“Yes, I’m fine.” You awkwardly stumble over the shovel on the ground, righting yourself before Jungkook has a chance to try and help you again. “Thank you.”

“Shall I help you with this?” He asks, bending to pick up one of the rakes.

“Oh…that’s not necessary, I can manage.”

“I’m well aware that you can manage. But would you like some help…and some company?”Jungkook almost looks shy as he asks. “I think it would be good for us to spend more time together.”

You aren’t sure what to say. Part of you despises the thought of spending time with him. But a bigger part tells you that you long to know him more. To hear his infuriating tone when he teases you.

“Fine. But you start over there, and don’t crowd me.” You point towards an area a few feet from the one you had been working on. Jungkook laughs quietly.

“As you wish, my queen.” He bows at the waist and makes his way over.

“I’ve asked you several times to stop calling me that.” You sigh, pushing some hair away from your face before you continue tilling the soil.

“Why does it bother you so much?” Jungkook gets down to his knees, the brown slacks he is wearing meeting the dirt.

“I am not a vampire, Jungkook. Being the Blood Queen seems like I’m pretending to be something that I’m not.” It bothers you. All those vows that you took about protecting each other are just lies.

“You don’t need to be a vampire to be the queen here. No matter what you hear or what you think, you only need to try and understand.” Jungkook’s quick hands are making much faster work of things than yours ever could.

“Understand what?” You ask.

“Will you let me show you some time? It will be much easier to show than to try and explain it in so many words.”

You don’t understand what he means, but the look on his face tells you that he’s sincere in what he says. And even though you should probably say no, you’re too curious not to indulge him.

“Okay.” You simply state. Jungkook smiles softly and continues his digging.

Another week passes, and Jungkook joins you out in the gardens every night. He brings you new tools to use and lists from the florists in the kingdom so that you can pick out flowers to plant wherever you please. You choose as many as you can find that grow at night, because though they carry all the usual things that flourish in the day time, you know you won’t get to enjoy them as much as you will the ones who bloom at night.

You spend hours in the many libraries within the castle researching the plants and what they need to live well at night. Jungkook joins you there often, following you through the stacks of books and listening to you babble on and on about the flowers.

As much as you wish you didn't enjoy his company, as much as you don’t want to be fond of the sound of his voice, you are very much beginning to.

“_____?” Jungkook says quietly, closing the book that you’re holding in your hands. He doesn’t call you by your first name often, it’s a strange feeling that follows it.

“What is it?” You slide the book back onto the shelf in front of you, turning your attention to him.

“Would you please do me the honor of accompanying me into the kingdom tomorrow night?” His hands are behind his back as he speaks, stepping closer to where you’re standing.

“May I ask why?” You try to pretend his close proximity does not affect you. Jungkook is still a vampire after all.

“I told you I would help you to understand why being human does not mean you cannot be the queen here.” Jungkook brings a hand from behind his back and reaches out gently, brushing your fingertips with his.

“What are you going to show me, Jungkook?” You slowly pull your hand back from his touch, making him smirk at your stubbornness.

“Everything, darling.”

[hobeemin]

1997.01.09

"Without anger or sadness, you won't be able to feel true happiness."

Jeon Jungkook

resources: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5

[bangguks]

🌧️ rainy days by V

[hisunshiine]

—college nights, diner fights | jjk

pairing: waiter!jungkook x waitress!reader au/genre: diner au, e2l, angst, smut, fluff rating: M wc: 9,664 warnings: POV switches (obvious, tho) mentions of domestic abuse and alluded infidelity (parents not pairing), JK's mom has terrible boyfriends and his dad is a petty "Disney" dad, Reader's parents are better but not around often, mentions of Jungkook having to protect his mom from the bad boyfriends, mean teachers, enemiesssssss, triggering middle school memories can be brought up upon reading the banter of middle school JK and reader LOL but also not LOL, swearing, vulgar statements, forced proximity, secret mutual pining, a drunken physical altercation/assault at work (mild), mentions of blood, minor cuts/scrapes, kissing, tattoo tracing SMUT warnings: oral (f receiving), praise an: shoutout to my beta readers @colormepurplex2 @downbad4yoongi @mrsparkjimin18 @peachiilovesot7 for helping me get this thing done in time despite me being on vacation and dragging my feet! thank you all so much for the motivation, for brainstorming, and just all around positive feedback! summary: If you can't stand the heat, get out of the kitchen! You and Jungkook have been enemies for as long as you can remember—elementary school even—and when Seokjin hires him despite knowing this, you have to call a truce during working hours. When an incident at work leads Jungkook, and you, to put things into a different perspective, will the heated diner fights become a passionate college night? Or will it fizzle before it can start?

Bangtanstrology Writing Event hosted by ME of @bangtanwritershq

My Big 3 are: Sun (Member): Gemini- Jungkook, Moon (How They Met): Scorpio- Late Night Diner, Rising (Trope): Libra- Enemies to Lovers

Part 1: Elementary School

Elementary school is supposed to be fun. For you, 11 years old and in the fifth grade, elementary school is perhaps the best time of your life so far. Your dad signed up for career day, and you are excited beyond measure for him to come in and meet with your class to talk about his job.

It’s rare that you get to spend time with your dad, as his job keeps him pretty busy. The fact that he was able to show up today was a miracle in and of itself, but he negotiated presenting first so that he could leave first to get to work. 

“Everyone, please welcome our first parent speaker, Mr. Cha.”

Your classmates applaud as your dad steps forward to the podium in the front center of the classroom and you beam from ear to ear. He looks all spiffy—hair styled well, suit pressed, and shoes shined. 

“Good morning, boys and girls, I am Mr. Cha, and I am here to speak to you about my career. To be honest, I have two jobs,” he pauses as the kids, including you, look at him in both awe and confusion, “I am the father to that little girl right there,” he points to you and you giggle. “That is a full time job all on its own, but for the other time spent working, I am a plastic surgeon.”

You can’t help the pride you feel from your classmates clapping as your dad shares. He talks about the schooling needed to get to his position, shares study tips for the transition to middle and high school, which—while still some time away—will be good to begin practicing even now. 

“You’re so handsome, Mr. Cha! Have you ever had any work done yourself?” one of the students asks during the question time.

“Ah, great question! I have tried some of the treatments that we offer at my clinic, because if I don’t believe in it, why should others have faith in me and the services I offer?” he explains. “I had a colleague of mine fix my deviated nose bridge, which I injured playing basketball in college, and I maintain my skin with various anti-aging treatments as well. It’s important to start taking care of your skin even at this age! Princess, come help me please.” Your dad gestures to you, and you rise from the chair, only a little embarrassed at him using your nickname. “Help me pass these out to your classmates.”

You begin walking around the room, placing the small cardstock printouts on each of your classmates’ desks as your dad continues speaking.

“These are coupons for my office. You can give these to a family member, or if your parents will allow you to come in, we offer a free consultation to check your skin, and a reduced rate for any skin care products or procedures for any of my princess’s classmates and their family.” He wraps up his presentation there, pulling you into him for a side hug as he smiles at your classmates and the other parents waiting in the wings to present. “Thank you for letting me present, I’ve got to run because I have a rhinoplasty scheduled today, and I need to prepare, but I had a lot of fun talking with you all today!” As your dad kisses your forehead, he whispers a quick goodbye as he leaves your classroom. You’ve never felt so proud.

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“Okay, everyone, let’s line up for P.E.,” Ms. Kim directs, and you jump in line with your peers to walk down to the field. Your classroom teacher disappears for his break as Ms. Kim takes over, and thus ensues a battle between your class as you play ‘Capture the Flag’. 

“The rules are simple,” Ms. Kim explains, “a ball is placed on each side of the field in that box.” She points at the four cones creating a safe zone with a kickball inside of it. “Once the game begins, players have to cross the midline into ‘enemy’ territory to try and capture the ball and bring it back to their side. The other team has to stop you from stealing the ball by pulling the flags to remove your waistband—no tackling! Understand?”

“Yes, Ms. Kim!” 

“Good. If your belt is pulled off, you stand off to the side at the cone here, okay? That’s the jail. To rescue your teammates from jail, you have to high five them. You must return to your side before attempting to go after the ball again. Once a player enters the box, they are safe, but they cannot stay in there forever…” 

You tune out Ms. Kim because you already know how to play, and instead busy yourself with wrapping the tan belt around your waist, adjusting the position of the three blue flags hanging from it. The red team moves to their side of the midline, and you stretch your legs idly as you wait for the teacher to blow her whistle. 

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Huffing, you pout as you walk to the jail cone, re-attaching the waistband that your classmate pulled off. He’s put you in jail several times now, almost as if he’s targeting only you during the game. It’s getting a little irritating, since Jeon Jungkook is the fastest boy in the fifth grade, but he’s spending all of his time chasing you instead of helping his team win. Even now, he’s guarding the jail so your best friend can’t come to save you again.

“Dang, JK, you pulled her flag again?” Kim Taehyung snickers loudly as he jogs over to where you’re held captive.

“Can’t let the princess get everything, now can we?” he taunts, a sarcastic tone to his words.

Kim Taehyung, unable to whisper to save his life, leans into Jungkook and asks, “Do you think her dad worked on her face? No way she’s that pretty on her own.”

Your feelings are split between irritated and pleased at the backhanded compliment. 

“She’s not that pretty, it looks more like her dad messed up her face, ‘cause she’s so ugly,” Jungkook counters, and it’s hard to decipher if his cheeks are red from playing or from talking about your looks.

“But, you said last week that she was—”

Ms. Kim’s whistle blows to end the game, and you miss the end of Taehyung’s statement. Walking away from the two fools, you barely get a foot outside of the jail zone when a sharp tug at your waist stops you in your tracks. You look down and see your belt missing, and hear a soft thud a few moments later as it hits the grass in the opposite direction several yards away.

Taehyung is laughing, his large boxy grin behind his hand as Jungkook smirks at you. 

“You lost.”

The two then take off towards where your teacher is collecting the game belts, leaving you to backtrack to get yours.

“What took you so long? Everyone else has already returned to the building. Taking your time  to head back to class is not good sportsmanship.”

“But, Jungkook—”

“No excuses. Hurry up and get inside.”

Jogging back to the building, you get another scolding when you reach the classroom, with your teacher telling you that just because your dad is a surgeon and came for Career Day does not mean you get to behave this way. From the corner of your eye, you watch as Jungkook eats up every second of the scolding, seeming to enjoy the way you wilt as it continues. As you walk back to your seat, you don’t see Jungkook stick out his foot, and you trip loudly as the desks and chairs nearest you clatter and clang as you try to regain your footing.

As the boys snicker at your forced clumsiness, you vow to yourself that Jeon Jungkook is the worst person to exist, and you will hate him for as long as you live. 

Part 2: Middle School

Jungkook’s had a hard week. Chuseok just ended, and he had to spend it with his dad’s family instead of with his mom this year, per their divorce agreement. He’s partially thankful because it allowed him a moment to rest. His hypervigilance with his mom’s new boyfriend is tiring, and his grades are suffering for it. But Jungkook is tired of these men sniffing around for a piece of the ‘supposed’ alimony his mom receives from his dad, because everyone was aware when the CEO of Jeon Industries divorced his wife and married his secretary. Jungkook begged to switch schools, but his parents refused, despite it being reported on several news outlets for a month in sixth grade. 

Eighth grade hasn’t been so bad for him though, no one talks about the divorce anymore, and Jungkook is able to be just Jungkook, known for his athletic abilities and gaming. He was able to guilt his dad into a new gaming computer, since he forgot to take him back to school shopping, and Jungkook is able to help his mom pay the bills each month with the earnings he makes betting on Overwatch. 

So when he returns back home, tired of hearing tales and seeing pictures of the trip to Cancun with the new baby that conveniently interrupted the planned shopping trip, to see his bed holding a Nike box with the shoes Jungkook begged his mom to get at the start of the year, he’s elated. He erupts into shouts and whoops of excitement, running to the kitchen to hug his mom.

“Ouch!” she can’t hide the wince as Jungkook pulls back from the embrace.

“I didn’t even squeeze you that tightly, Mom. Are you okay?”

“Yeah, it’s nothing, you know how clumsy I am, I ran into the dining room table the other night—”

Jungkook doesn’t even think as he reaches for the hem of her shirt, barely lifting it to see an ugly burgundy bruise spreading across her abdomen.

“Mom! Did he do this to you?” Jungkook demands, fury building in his body. 

“N-no, honey, you know how I c-can be,” she stutters through the lie, but they both know the truth. 

“Mom, if he did this because of money, just return the shoes, it’s fine.”

“No. I bought those for you. You deserve them.” His mom is resolute, turning away and adjusting her shirt as she goes back to cooking dinner. “Plus, we broke up. He won’t be back.”

Up in his room, Jungkook readies the shoes for school tomorrow. He has a few nice things, his dad is a CEO after all, but after the divorce, Jungkook chose his mom, and his dad took it personally. His dad didn’t understand, but the choice was clear to Jungkook. His dad had a new wife, but his mom had no one. Jungkook couldn't leave her too. But his dad became spiteful after that, and so Jungkook can’t take most things his dad buys him to his mom’s house, including certain clothes and shoes. 

It’s why he’s so upset about his dad missing back-to-school shopping, because those were usually the only things he was allowed to take to his mom’s, but this year he has nothing new. Not until his mom bought him the Nike Dunks he’s been coveting. Jungkook is happy, proud of his mom for choosing him over the newest boyfriend, and lying in bed, he finally feels like maybe his life isn’t so bad. He hears a knock at the door, and his mom’s tired feet shuffling to answer it.

“Please, Jongyeon-ah, I promise, it won’t happen again.” 

Jungkook rolls over, grabbing his headphones to drown out the sounds of the pleading, good for nothing, weaseling himself back into his mom’s life.

🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️

 “Yo, Jungkook, those dunks are fly!”

Jungkook props his shoes up on the desk next to his in class, showing off the brand-new kicks to Taehyung.

“Yeah, they're limited edition.” Jungkook knows his response is a little douchebag-esque, but he doesn’t care. He’s wanted these shoes for the longest time, and after all of the bullshit he dealt with during Chuseok and now waking up to see that greasy slimeball his mom said she was done with shirtless at the table for breakfast, he just wants to pretend for once that his life is perfect. 

“Take your crusty shoes off my desk,” you scoff. Jungkook ignores you for a few seconds, leaving his feet where he has them propped on your desk. He hates that you called his shoes crusty, knowing that they’re not. They don’t even have a speck of dirt on them! He made sure of that upon his arrival, being overly cautious with each step and wiping away any blemish he perceived to be there.

“Awe, is the princess jealous she doesn’t have the limited edition dunks?” Jungkook can’t pinpoint when this rivalry started, he just knows that for as long as he can remember, the two of you have been enemies. 

“There’s a reason the supply is limited. It’s because they’re ugly and they stopped making them once they realized someone would have to be an idiot to wear them. You sitting here with them just proves this point.” You push his crossed feet off your desk and he lets you, but Jungkook holds you in his glare.

“One day you’ll stop being a hater, drowning in all that Haterade you’ve been drinking,” Jungkook makes a play on words, and his friends ‘ooooh’ and high five at his middle school burn.

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At lunch, Jungkook precariously steps between the seats to avoid damaging his shoes. His shins are starting to hurt from how he’s walking to avoid creasing his sneakers, but it’s worth the pain to him. He’s successfully avoided getting any food on his shoes from the sloppy eaters, and as he makes the last stretch to the door, a loud yell catches him off guard.

“Watch it!”

Nayeon, one of your lackeys, warns everyone as she’s bumped by you and her red sports drink goes flying. Jungkook is stuck between tables, backpacks cluttering the aisle and Nayeon’s body flailing taking up all of the space. It all happens in seconds—a hip check, a flying drink, and the contents now strewn across the floor and Jungkook’s new sneakers and laces now stained a bright red, dripping across the leather and fabric of his brand new, limited edition Nike Dunks. 

“Oh my god, Nayeon, you are so clumsy!”

Jungkook gawps at you, unbelieving, as your annoying voice fills the silence that took over the room only moments before.

“So sorry, Jungkook. Nayeon bumped into me and then she spilled her haterade—I mean Gatorade—all over your new shoes! I hope those weren’t hard to get or anything! I’m sure your CEO daddy can get you a new pair.”

Jungkook storms from the room, seething at your audacity. If you had any idea about his life, would you treat him this way? He wishes you could walk a day in his shoes, maybe you would realize that life outside your perfect, princess bubble is not always sweet, and would think twice before being a bitch to him, but it’s too late for him to change his view of you. You are the devil’s spawn and Jungkook has never hated someone as much as he hates you.

Part 3: High School

Getting into BTS-U should be easy for you, what with your dad being an alumnus, but you don’t want to rely on nepotism. You’ve been working your ass off for good grades all four years of high school, and the final determination of your competency is about to start. Only one student can represent your high school as the Youth of the Year, winning prestige and honor by being granted early admission into any four-year university in the country of their choice without needing CSAT scores. 

The last of the trials, the oral interview, is scheduled for today and as you sit outside the room in the creaky, overly hard chair, your heart pounds. Of course, the final two students competing for this merit would be the two students who despise each other the most in the school, making the competition that much more important to you. 

You cannot lose to fucking Jeon Jungkook.

“We’re ready for you!”

The chipper voice startles you from your thoughts as you steel yourself to go into the final challenge. 

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“Thank you all for your participation in the Youth of the Year program. As you know, the contenders were all very high achieving and will have plenty of options available to you for your future. Do not let not being named deter you from the future awaiting you all. Now, today, we interviewed the two finalists from this wonderful school, and while both were outstanding, one student really opened up and shared a vulnerable side to him that inspired us. He has already begun an incredible journey in his young life, showcasing a will to succeed. Jeon Jungkook, please stand.”

The crowd in the auditorium bursts into applause as you burst into tears. The one good thing about this ceremony is that the finalists do not sit on stage, so in the chaos and celebration, you are able to sneak away to the bathroom. Jeon Jungkook looked so shocked to have been chosen, but you knew that he couldn’t actually be shocked. His mom stood up with him, hugging him with pride, and your parents couldn’t even be bothered to show up for such an important moment. 

You tell yourself it’s not a big deal, that you have done well and will most likely have the same options for college as Jungkook does, but being a Youth of the Year finalist is not the same as being the Youth of the Year. What really hurts you the most is that if the roles were switched, Jungkook’s mom would be there to hug him and tell him he did great and fought hard. If you had been chosen, you still would’ve been alone, but at least the loneliness wouldn’t have hurt as much. 

The judges who interviewed you must think you don’t need the help, that you have everything you could ever want, so why would they choose the spoiled little rich girl? Why would they choose the girl who eats dinner with the maids, who read bedtime stories to herself growing up, the girl who has everything—everything except a family that loves her more than their careers and supports her unfailingly?

Facing the mirror, you reach for your purse and pull out the small makeup pouch so that you can erase any evidence of the sadness you feel today, brimming with the unshed tears of yesterday, and prepare your battle face to go back out there and be cordial as the runner up. Another battle you’ll face alone. 

Part 4: College at BTS-U

“Welcome to Jin’s Diner, have a seat wherever you’d—what the fuck are you doing here?”

The chiming of the door opening caught your ear, so you’d turned to greet the newest customer, except instead of an overly tired trucker or a group of post-clubbing college students, you’re faced with one Jeon Jungkook.

“You kiss your mother with that mouth?” he asks, eyebrow pitched and smirk full of snark.

“No, I kiss your father with this mouth. Now get out.” You go back to wiping down the counters, ignoring the stare of your arch-nemesis as you finish cleaning.

“Now, now, Baby Cakes, let your new coworker into the diner so you can finally get the help you've been asking for.”

You turn to the owner’s son, Kim Seokjin, mouth gaping open in confusion. “Coworker? I thought you read through the notes I made on all of the applicants?”

“Yes, I did, and they were very helpful. He’ll be working nights with you, so show him to the back while I grab a lock for his locker and a uniform.”

“Sir—”

“Now, Cakes.”

Seokjin disappears into the hallway towards his office, and you turn back to Jungkook, who’s standing smugly with his arms crossed watching you.

“Ugh, keep up, small fry.” 

Jungkook’s black boots squeak along the freshly mopped floor as he hustles to catch up with you. The doorway behind the counter opens into the kitchen, where the two line cooks, Hoseok and Yoongi, work diligently. Hoseok is sitting next to the recently delivered products with a clipboard in hand as he counts the items, while Yoongi is wiping down his area before the rush begins. You clear your throat loudly to gather their attention.

“We have a new waiter, his name is Jeon Jungkook, but he shall go by Small Fry, I think.” The smile on your face is devilish, and the two men snicker as they take in the newbie rushing in behind you.

“Wait, why am I ‘Small Fry’?” he asks, only a little out of breath from having to round the counter and catch up to you.

“Because everyone who works here gets called a food nickname, helps with the creeps, especially on nights.”

“I’m Suga,” Yoongi greets, “and this here is Hobi-Honey, but we just call him Hobi for short.”

“And I’m Baby Cakes, as you heard bossman say.”

“What’s your real name again, Small Fry?” Yoongi asks, his platinum hair shining in the fluorescent kitchen lights.

“It’s Jungkook,” he answers, emphasizing his name as he glares at you.

“Hmm, Baby Cakes, I think he might be better suited to Cooky…”

“Isn’t that too close to his name?” you argue, hoping to keep Small Fry, but when you see Hobi shake his head, you know you’ve lost.

“Fine, Cooky it is then! Next new hire will be called Small Fry no matter what!” you concede, waving Jungkook to follow you towards the back of the kitchen.

He trails you quietly as you push a swinging wooden door with a circular window in it and lead him into the employee lounge. Seokjin is whistling to himself as you enter, twirling a metal lock around his finger. You look around the room, surprised at how quickly he had everything ready.

“Great, you met Suga and Hobi then?” he asks, nodding at the door you just entered.

“Yes, I figured it would be best to do that first on the way here.”

“So, Jungkook—”

“He’s Cooky,” you interrupt, but Seokjin just shakes your rudeness off.

“—Cooky, this here’s the lounge. The door you just entered is used while you’re on shift for breaks and such. When you arrive for your shift and leave for the night, it should always be through the door behind me.” He gestures to a purple-handled door. “To the left are the employee cubbies, and to the right, we have the laundry station, small kitchenette, and door to the staff bathroom.” 

You nod at the TV mounted on the wall next to the swinging door. “The remote always stays on this table,” you tap the main table in the room that seats six, “and we typically keep the TV on ESPN, MTV, or my personal favorite, HGTV.”

“Thank you, Cakes. Now, your Jin’s Diner gear stays here, we’ll wash it for you after each shift you work.” Seokjin points to a stacked washer and dryer in the corner. “Just throw it in the wash after your shift each night. We’ll put it back in your cubby for you once dry.”

Jungkook nods, but he looks a bit overwhelmed from all of the information. You take the lead and sit down first hoping he’ll follow you. You know Seokjin talks fast and moves through the employee information even faster, and despite not liking Jeon Jungkook, you need the help on your shift since Mochi quit to focus on his last semester.

You grab a permanent marker and white label from the center of the table, tossing it across to Jungkook with a little more force than necessary.

“We each have a cubby, with a small locker inside. Use this to write your name and then claim an empty spot, and you can also write your name on the tags of your uniform.”

Seokjin grabs plastic-wrapped clothing articles from the cabinet next to the laundry station and approaches the table, too, tossing down the new clothing. 

“Your gear. Shirt, apron, and a ballcap. If you want a visor instead, let me know. Black, khaki, or blue jeans, black non-slip shoes, keep the blingy jewelry at home.”

“Dammit, I was planning to choke him with his chain after the first shift.”

Seokjin levels his gaze at you, and you know you’re pushing your limits with him. 

“I’ll have you follow Baby Cakes around to learn the drill for taking orders, but mostly you’ll be bussing tables tonight. I’ll work on the final processing of your paperwork in the meantime. Cakes, come with me while he changes.”

You follow Seokjin out of the lounge and back towards the office. He opens the door and steps back to allow you to enter first, shutting the door behind him as he follows you into the room.

“You need to tone it down. I know you said that you and he have some bad blood, but we need the help and he’s the best applicant we have.”

“It’s deeper than that, Jinnie, he’s literally been tormenting me since elementary school. We work with heavy-duty machinery and cutlery. You might come in one morning to find that one of us has stabbed the other to death.” You push out your bottom lip and give him your best, roundest, watery puppy eyes. “Is that what you really want?”

“What I want is to have a fully staffed evening shift so that my best girl can stop having bags under her eyes and complaining about her feet hurting every shift.” Seokjin smiles teasingly at you. “Plus, you need a good annual review to get a raise, and training new employees looks good to the owner.”

“Your dad is the owner! You can just tell him to give me a raise!”

“I could…but this is so much more fun. Who knows, he’s kinda hot…maybe you find out that the reason he’s picked on you your whole life is because he has a crush on you.”

“That fallacy is just a way for the patriarchy to continue to push abuse acceptance and the ‘boys will be boys’ agenda.” You cross your arms, but overall you know Seokjin is right. You’ve always prided yourself on being able to adapt well to situations, put a fake smile on when you need to deal with rude customers or your parents missing another monumental event in your life. “But fine. At work, it’ll be a ceasefire. That’s about all I can promise you.”

“I thought you said there would be a ceasefire!” Seokjin yells at you from where you sit in his office. Jungkook is seated next to you, slouching in the chair with his head turned away towards the wall. You can see his jaw clenching every few seconds as Seokjin continues berating you. “Instead, I got a call from a family friend that you two were so busy yelling at each other for not doing your jobs that you effectively stopped doing your job!” 

You huff as you roll your eyes, turning away from Jungkook’s severely hot—no—aggravating jawline, (where did that thought even come from?) to respond to Seokjin.

“That’s not even what happened last night! This idiot decided to fuck with the seating and of course, since the big game is tomorrow, we had a lot of people stop in and it was noisy. I was trying to seat the guests who were being louder and rowdier on one side so that our regulars,” you glare at Jungkook, who’s still refusing to look at either you or Seokjin, “could dine in peace, but when I ran to the back to restock the napkins for the bar top, he seated people himself. He’s not the host. He’s still a newbie! It’s been, what? Three, four months?”

“...Four,” Jungkook mumbles, but you ignore it.

“And so then poor Mrs. Hana ended up dealing with the hooligans who disrupted her meal, and yes, it was when I was trying to explain to him how seating works—”

“I know how seating works, it’s not rocket science!”

“So then why would you mess with the flow of the diner and seat them there?!”

“Because you,” Jungkook finally breaks the stoic act and turns to face you abruptly, so much so you almost visibly jump, “kept seating the large groups in your sections, which meant that you were giving yourself the better tips and leaving me with the geriatrics who barely leave anything!”

“Are you serious? You think I was trying to take tips from you? I hate dealing with the sports crowd! I would have gladly traded with you if you had said something to me, but you were too busy ignoring me when I was trying to talk to you about dividing up the floor—”

“—you talk to me like I’m a child, so of course I was ignoring you, you dolt—”

“—really piss me off, you think I would stoop so low, probably because it’s what you would do—”

“Shut up, both of you!” Seokjin’s eyes have a hardness to them you are not used to seeing. He’s usually laid back, but the stress lines on his face speak to an underlying tension you aren’t aware of. “Look,” he takes a deep breath, rubbing his hand over his eyes briefly, “this can’t happen again. Mrs. Hana could’ve broken her hip slipping on the spilled soda, and her son is debating suing us. My dad is obviously handling this situation, but that means your jobs are on the table. If her son demands it in exchange to avoid a lawsuit, I can’t stop it.”

It settles on you at that moment, how severe this is. You know that the little, old lady regular slipped and fell, but both you and Jungkook rushed over to help her up, comping her meal and walking her outside to sit quietly and assess how she was feeling while waiting for her son to arrive. Not only that, but he didn’t seem mad when he picked her up—just worried about if she was in pain and if she needed to go see a doctor. Apparently, after the shock wore off, his anger set in.

“I’m sorry, Seokjin. It won’t happen again.”

“Get to your shift, I’m sure Nam—I mean Porkchop—is ready to go. Remember, Suga will be late today, the championship game is tonight. So no more ignoring the hooligans and Cooky,” Seokjin gives his leveled glare to Jungkook this time, “Baby Cakes is in charge. I know you’re eager to prove yourself, and you’ve done well so far, but she’s worked the aftermath of championship games before.”

Jungkook stares back at Seokjin, a low humming tension filling the room before he answers with a “Yes, sir.” 

The diner is louder than Jungkook’s ever heard before as he goes around clearing tables now that the game is over. His coworker, Yoongi, did amazing from what he saw on the screen. BTS-U wore their white home jerseys with purple and black lettering, so it was easy to see when number 3 hit the game-winning three-pointer. 

Now, as the same white jersey is stepping into the diner, all of the fans cheer and bang their cups and silverware to congratulate the MBC Cup National University Basketball Championship’s MVP for the win tonight. 

Jungkook looks across the dining area, where he sees you kneeling on the countertop clapping your hands above your head. The uniform dress that you chose for tonight has risen higher up your thigh than normal—probably from the way you climbed up onto the counter—giving Jungkook a pretty good view of the skin leading up to what he’s sure are lace panties. He’s walked in on you changing one too many times to not know your preference. 

He can’t look away from you; something about the sheer energy radiating off of you is magnetic, as if you’re lit from within, and before he knows it, he’s moving closer to you. Jungkook knows he can’t stand you personally, but physically? He’ll never admit this aloud—not since Taehyung almost told you the truth back in elementary school— but you’re the prettiest girl he’s ever seen. 

He doesn’t have much time to ponder your looks as you bring two fingers to your lips and let out a loud wolf whistle, setting you off balance with the action. Luckily he’s already been pulled into your orbit, because he catches you with two strong hands on your waist before you can fall off the counter.

“Thanks, Cooky!” you say, eyes alight and voice pleasant, as if you’ve forgotten who Jungkook is to you, and who you are to him. 

“No problem, Baby Cakes.” Jungkook helps you climb down, and when you bend forward to place your palms on the counter to dismount, he sees his hypothesis on your panties is right. His eyes remain on your ass as you extend a leg to the floor, and despite the trouble the two of you got into before your shift, Jungkook can’t seem to care to remember why he shouldn’t be enjoying the view.

“Congrats, Suga!” Jungkook watches as you launch yourself into Yoongi’s arms, giving him a loud smooch on the cheek.

“Thanks, Cakes, that last shot was for you.” He winks, and Jungkook doesn’t understand why he’s feeling so affected, but he wants to blame it on those panties you unknowingly flashed for the irritation he feels toward his friend for flirting with you. She’s your enemy, Kook, get it the fuck together.

Jungkook stalks away, grabbing his bussing bin and rag so he can clean up the table of the group in line to pay.

🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️

“Fuck you and your sorry-ass school!” 

Jungkook turns his head to see you standing feet shoulder-width apart with your arms crossed, looking so much like the evil bitch he’s come to know. Only this time, it’s directed towards an EXO-U fan, by the looks of the silver and black shirt he’s sporting.

“Sir, I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

You command the space well, and had the man been sober, he probably would have listened to you when you gave him the polite option to leave on his own two feet. As luck would have it, the man grew more belligerent with each passing moment, causing Jungkook to run and grab Yoongi from the back to help handle the situation. Jungkook doesn’t like what he’s hearing when he returns to the front.

“You dumb cunt, we don’t have to leave! Come over here, baby, suck my cock like you suck their players, bet that’s why they won, huh? Saw you all over their star player earlier, let me get a piece, bitch.”

Jungkook wants to lunge at the man, but Yoongi beats him to the table, effortlessly grabbing the man by his arm and neck to yank him from his booth seat.

Jungkook gets to his other side, helping the man walk towards the double glass doors as Yoongi mutters menacingly at the patron.

“Best not show your face around here again, if you know what’s good for you. Find another place to eat, and we won’t beat your ass.”

Yoongi lets go of the man once they clear the sidewalk into the parking lot, the man’s friends stumble out behind, but Jungkook shoves the man hard, and he falls to the ground. He feels no remorse for the man; he reminds him too much of the creeps his mom dealt with: stench of alcohol on their breath that grew with each vulgar word that rolled out of their mouths, animosity leeching from their greasy skin—Jungkook needs to wash his hands and splash his face. 

Fleeing inside, he bypasses you cleaning up the mess the rowdy table left behind, unable to hear the words you say clearly enough to decipher them. He knows that it’s almost time to close up and he has a few tasks to do to help speed up the process, but he’ll get to them in a minute. He just needs a minute to shake off this feeling, and then he’ll be okay to do the final cleaning for the evening, and find out what you said.

You’ve always hated dealing with the championship game guests, but always loved being with the crowd because of the thrill and your love for the game. The shift wasn’t terrible work-wise, as Jungkook really pulled his weight throughout the shift, allowing you to be in charge as the hostess and main waitress, filling in where you needed and bussing tables as the guests rotated through the double doors.

And you can’t lie, when you almost lost your balance on the counter, it was kind of hot that he was there to catch you, and help you down safely. With his jawline that can cut glass and his warm hands sitting large on your hips, you were a little sad to have them drop away, but you hid your disappointment in congratulating Suga and then moved on with the shift.

Of course, such a perfectly good shift had to end with a douchebag. To your surprise, when you turn to look to Jungkook for help, he’s already approaching with Suga in tow. And damn your worst enemy if he doesn’t do the second hottest thing of the night, vanquishing the drunkard with the sailor’s mouth from your sight, his foul friends trailing behind. 

You clear off the table, the half-eaten food discarded in the trash and you realize that it needs to be taken out now before the last of the tables are done. Jungkook speed walks past you, so you call out to him, “Cooky, take the trash out, please!”

You finish sweeping under the table, then wipe down the booth’s table as Suga also returns inside, pausing to check on you.

“Everything good, Cakes?”

You nod, placing a hand on your hip as you reflect on the incident. “Yeah, he was a real fuck boy, but you and Cooky saved me just in time.”

“Always…I’m surprised Cooky was so worked up when he called me from the kitchen. Usually you two are at each other’s throats, I would’ve thought he’d enjoy seeing you deal with a rude customer.”

“Well, we did get yelled at earlier by Jin for last night, so we promised to work together and drop whatever rivalry we have during working hours. So maybe that’s it.”

“Mmm…maybe. Well, let me go help Hobi, this last wave will keep us later if I don’t.” Yoongi takes a few steps to round the counter, then calls back out to you, “The trash is about to overflow, Cakes!”

Frowning, you notice that Jungkook has yet to return to take out the trash. Glancing around the room, you see most of the tables are in stages of eating or waiting for their food. They all seem well and distracted with clips from the post-game coverage, so you decide to take out the trash yourself. Maybe the truce between you and Jungkook isn’t as intact as you think. 

Grumbling to yourself, you tie off the bag and lift it from the bin, foot angled to keep the wheels from sliding across the floor from the tug. You eye the replacement black bag, but decide to put it in once you return from the dumpster. 

You hate taking out the trash; you love feminism but some tasks are just made for men. You refuse to use the loud trolley with the janky wheel, so you carry the bag gingerly, resting it down every few steps as you make your way across the sparsely lit back parking lot.

“Well, if it isn’t the bitch who didn’t let me finish my meal.”

You snap your head around, eyes roving for the source of the raspy words, finally landing on the douchebag discharged from the diner only 10 minutes ago.

“We didn’t charge you for it, so I suggest you leave before this turns into a real problem.” You keep your eyes on him, watching as he shifts around on his feet, inching closer to you. You hold your stance, refusing to look weak in case he decides you’d make a good target.

“Maybe if you come suck me off like a good girl, I won’t leave a bad review online about how much of a cunt you’re being. Matter of fact, throw in some pussy, let me fuck you properly and I bet all that attitude will drop. You just need someone to tame you.”

The man lunges for your left arm, his meaty fist closing around your wrist and you pull back to break the contact but he’s strong. You yell out, stumbling back away from the trash bag and he follows, heavy footfalls adding to the sounds of the evening. 

“Let go, you freak!”

You jolt your arm, wrenching it in as many directions as you can to try and relax his grip but he pulls you closer to him until you can smell the ethanol on his breath as he places his other hand forcefully on your shoulder. 

“I said I wanted you on your knees, stupid bitch,” he utters, and reflexively you punch him in his dick. He groans and releases you, hunching over in pain. You make out a figure stepping through the service door, and you call out for help. Attempting to step around the man, you only make it a few steps before you feel the weight of the man bearing down on you again.

“You stupid bitch!”

You try to run, but the man has the back of your dress in his grip so instead, your shoes scrape the asphalt in the same place repeatedly. A loud thwack of flesh on flesh sounds right before you’re released, dropping the short distance to the concrete. Your palms and knees feel the sting of the gravel but the relief of being out of the man’s hold overpowers any lingering pain as you scramble to your feet. 

Behind you, Jungkook is pummeling the man in the face, and you pause for a moment in shock before you rush back to him, grabbing his bicep to stop him from swinging again.

“Cooky, stop, I’m okay! Jungkook!”

He freezes, turning to look at you as if to see if your statement is true, and seeing that you’re serious, he appears to deflate a bit, no longer an attacking watchdog but a protective knight, making sure his charge is unscathed.

“Let’s go.” He gestures for your hand and you place yours in his, letting him guide you away from the groaning sack of trash and the garbage bag on the ground.

The fluorescent lights of the break room are blinding after the darkness of outside. Vaguely you hear Jungkook yelling at the others working, followed by the clattering of kitchen items, but you’re so out of sorts you don’t even realize that Jungkook has maneuvered you into a chair and is gently checking your knees, palms, and arms. He brushes off the remaining dirt from your skin.

“Are you hurt anywhere?”

His voice sounds pained, and this pulls you from your thoughts and back to the present with him. 

“Um, I don’t think so.”

“Where all did he touch you? It might not hurt now, but once the adrenaline dies off, you might feel it.”

“Um, my arm, my shoulder, I can’t…I don’t know.”

“It’s okay, let me check your neck…he grabbed your dress and pulled you, so I wanna make sure it won’t bruise.”

He takes your face in his hands delicately, tilting your head to expose your neck to his view. The proximity has your head spinning, his cologne enveloping you as he leans closer, a hand leaving your cheek to allow a finger to trail across your neckline. You know he’s just checking to make sure that there’s no lingering marks, but you don’t think that the after effects of tonight will be anything anyone can see. He grabs a glass of water for you, and you sit quietly while he tends to the minor cuts on your palms from the jagged gravel in the parking lot. 

Time seems to pass as you’re deep in thought, but you’re not sure how much until Seokjin appears, his purple and white painted face replacing the doe eyes and clenched jaw. He looks frazzled, as if he just left an after-party for the championship and was pulled into work. You realize after a moment that that’s actually what happened, and chuckle at yourself. He says your real name, pulling you out of your laughter.

“I’m so sorry this happened, luckily Jungkook was there. I don’t know what I would've done if something happened to you.” Seokjin pulls you into a hug, and you reciprocate, squeezing him tighter as the feeling of being held feels good. He pulls away sooner than you like, but he continues talking to you about what’s been going on since you’ve been sitting in the employee lounge.

“Look, don’t worry about staying and cleaning up tonight, okay? We’ve got everything under control. Hobi called the cops and Yoongi made sure the guy didn’t flee before they came. He’s in their custody now.”

“What about Jungkook?” you ask, uncharacteristically using his given name.

“He’s giving his statement to the police now. They’ll want to talk to you too, but I can put it off for tonight if you need,” Seokjin offers kindly, but you want to get it over with.

“It’s okay, I’ll speak to them now.”

“If you’re sure. I’ll grab one of the detectives now and they can take your statement, and then I’m sending you home. Jungkook will drive you, okay? You’re still a bit shaky.”

You look down at your hands, seeing the tremble Seokjin is referencing and nod. There’s no use in putting up a fight. All of the men you work with have now proven that you’re safe with them. Seokjin walks over to the door, popping his head out to call for an officer, and he paces quietly as you recount what happened, starting with the attacker growing belligerent in the dining area. Once finished, Seokjin grabs Jungkook from where he’s talking with Yoongi outside the door, ushering him to take your belongings and get you home.

You follow along, compliant, waving goodbye to the others as Jungkook pulls off into the main road back towards campus.

“You live by BTS-U, right?”

“Yeah, at Omelas, next to the train tracks.”

Neither of you speak again until he parks, turning off the engine to his jeep.

“Here, let me help you.” Jungkook grabs your backpack and climbs out of the SUV, coming around to the passenger side door to open it for you. You jump out and lead the way to your first -floor apartment. Unlocking the door, you flip on the lights as you toe off your non-slip work shoes.

“My roommate is out of town visiting her parents this weekend.”

Dumping your purse onto the kitchen counter, you walk further into your home, Jungkook trailing you slowly. He kicks off his shoes, socks shuffling quietly along the carpet as he enters your living room after closing and securing the front door lock. He places your backpack on the couch, and the two of you stand there awkwardly.

“Um, do you want some water or something? I have juice, milk, beer…” you trail off, uncertain.

“Water is fine, thanks.”

You grab a glass from the cupboard, filling it with ice water to return the favor from earlier as you bolster your courage to thank him. You hand him the glass and before you can think too hard, you just start speaking.

“Jungkook, I just wanted to thank you, for coming out there and, you know, saving me. I know we don’t get along much, but you really came through and I appreciate it.”

Jungkook’s eyes widen, blinking up at you from where he’s sitting on your couch. He takes a long sip from the glass, and he seems uncertain if he wants to speak but does so anyway.

“It was nothing, really.”

“Why, um, why did you help me, I mean—I’m just saying, oh this is coming out wrong—”

“Look, I’ve had a lot of practice dealing with creeps like him. I’ve had to do it plenty for my mom, and I just don’t like to see anyone getting hurt, not even my arch nemesis.” Jungkook tries to joke it off at the end, but his tone reveals so much more to you about what he’s not saying.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know it was like that for you back in high school.” You sit down next to him, closer than you normally would with your backpack taking up part of the seat, but you don’t mind it. You feel safer being closer to him.

“I mean, why would you know?” he asks, leaning back into the couch and taking another sip. “You have a perfect family, I’m sure nothing like this happened on the weekly at your place.”

“No, but like, my perfect family isn’t what everyone thinks it is, either. My parents didn’t pay attention to me, always busy working and what not. Honestly career day, back in like fifth grade was the only time one of my parents made it to something, and even then, it was so my dad could advertise his business. I felt so sheltered growing up, like I had no life skills. It’s why I work at the diner.”

Jungkook digests your words, understanding blooming through his chest. 

“I get that. It’s funny, I remember that day so well, I was so jealous of you, because your dad showed up for you. I guess our dads are the same though…I think if I had grown up with my parents still together, I would’ve felt like you do. My dad kind of left me behind when he remarried, you know? In a way, that made me less sheltered, because when I was with my mom, I had to grow up fast. I couldn’t always have the nicest things because she couldn’t always afford them.”

“I didn’t realize that you had to split time between them. One of my friends, Jimin? He told me about how your dad wouldn’t let you take things back and forth between houses.”

“Why did he do that?” Jungkook looks a little scandalized, and you’re sure it’s because Jimin is one of his best friends. He’s the one who recommended that he apply to Jin’s Diner in the first place, and how you knew to warn Jin to not hire Jungkook, not that it worked. “I didn’t know you were close with Jimin!”

“We used to work together…you actually replaced him. It’s why we were hiring in the first place. But, he told me that because he was trying to get me to ease up on you one day. I was complaining about something and he was trying to make you more human, I guess.”

Jungkook just nods. You know he probably realizes there’s no reason to be mad, it was all in the past and Jimin was coming from a good place when he revealed that.

“Well, it’s true. My dad is kind of the worst. My mom saved up to get me some Dunks back in middle school because my dad couldn’t be bothered to take me back to school shopping. As if I didn’t grow a foot and 3 shoe sizes.”

“Oh fuck, you know, I’m sorry for making Nayeon spill her drink on your shoes. That was really evil of me.”

“We were like 13? 14? All middle school girls are evil.” Jungkook chuckles. You’re relieved at how gracious he’s being, but a little annoyed. You turn to him to say as much, but he continues to speak. “Honestly, I don’t even know why we went toe to toe like that. We probably would’ve been best friends if we had combined our smarts. You were really great during the Youth of the Year competition. I’m sorry that you didn’t win, I think you deserved to.”

Jungkook is looking back at you now, with his pretty doe eyes, sitting so close to you. You don’t know what to say so you don’t say anything, instead focusing on his star-filled eyes and the way they’re staring into your own. His arm moves slowly, lifting to bring his hand to your face, curling a tendril of hair behind your ear.

“It’s getting pretty late now, I should get home,” he starts, but his eyes speak volumes and it doesn’t seem like he wants to leave just yet. “But there’s still one more thing I need to apologize for.”

Your eyebrows furrow, confused as to what incident it could be when his lips meet yours in a tender kiss, not too forceful but not shy either—just the right amount to let you know this isn’t a mistake. It takes you a few seconds to respond, but when you sense Jungkook about to move away you pull him in closer, keeping his lips where you can access them. It’s not enough though, so throwing caution to the wind, you straddle him as your tongue swipes for entry, pushing him further into the couch as you lean into his fit body. He groans at your boldness, large hands planted firmly on your ass as the kiss deepens. You feel dangerously high, lacking oxygen, but you can’t stop—you don’t want to stop. He’s intoxicating.

His fingers tighten imperceptibly, and you know he, too, is at the end of his air, so you break apart, chest heaving as you stare at his lips, red and plump from the kiss. 

“That was your…apology for? Or you were…apologizing for…kissing me?” you pant, trying to catch your breath.

“Both?” he says with a cute, bunny-like smile, “one, for hating you all these years, and two, for kissing you out of the blue.”

“And if I want you to apologize to me more?” you half-question, half-goad, and Jungkook gives the right answer, leaning into you once more so he can kiss you hard, teeth nipping at your bottom lip before pulling away.

“That’s something I can do.” Jungkook uses his strength to flip you onto your back on the couch, knocking your backpack out of the way and onto the floor. “Is this okay?” He searches your eyes for your consent to his hands on your thighs, fingertips skimming the hem of your dress. 

You nod, and he trails them higher until he’s grasping the band of your panties and sliding them down without haste. You enjoy the commanding presence he takes on, unlike the people you deal with on a daily at work, indecisive with what to order, he knows exactly what he wants, and when Jungkook pushes up your dress and buries his face between your thighs, it takes everything in you not to climax right then. His tongue flits around your clit, teasing you as his hands massage your thighs while keeping them wide for him. 

“Jungkook,” his name is a breathy whisper in the air as your fingers curl around his locks, tightening your grip when he flicks closer to where you need him. “Please.”

You wiggle your hips, searching for more friction from his tongue but he just pulls away, tutting his tongue at you for being bad. You sit up slightly to glare at him.

“Patience, baby.”

Whining, you lay back on the couch with a huff. “This is why we hated each other bac—oh, fuck me,” you finish with a moan as he flattens his tongue across your pussy and stimulates every nerve he can cover. Wrapping his lips around your clit, he begins to suck, gently flicking his tongue every few seconds as he positions two fingers at your dripping center. Delving inside of you, the plunge of his fingers reaches the ache inside of you, causing your legs to tremble as he fine-tunes your body like an instrument. 

“Feels so good, mmph, fuck,” is all you can manage to say as he continues to pump his fingers, the squelching of your walls suctioning them back in with every tug out only making you wetter. Jungkook hums, and the thrumming sensation curls your toes. Arching your back, you tug his hair hard as you mewl loudly from the impending orgasm.

“You can do it, baby, cum for me,” Jungkook praises, “you’re doing so well, squeezing my fingers so tight, watch me.”

When his mouth once again finds its rhythm on your core, it takes just a few seconds of making eye contact with Jungkook, doe-eyes wide as he watches you enjoy his tongue, before you shiver and melt into the euphoria he’s bringing to your body. 

“That’s it, fuck—you look so pretty, baby.”Body spent, you stare up at the ceiling blinking as you come back to earth. Jungkook tucks himself behind you, holding you in his arms. You look down at the arm over your waist, your fingers lightly tracing the tattoos on his exposed full sleeve. You can feel his bulge, know that there’s so much more…apologizing you both need to do after years of being enemies, but you have all night for that. And in the morning, you don’t know what will happen, if there will be more to come after tonight, but what you do know is that at this moment you don’t hate Jungkook; not even a little bit, not even at all.

🍽️🍽️🍽️

© hisunshiine 2023. All rights reserved. 

thank you for reading!!!

[chateautae]

to turn a bad thing good | jjk. II

➵ summary: jungkook’s drunken one night stand goes awry when he comes to learn not only is he being forced into an arranged marriage, but it’s to the very girl he abandoned that night—and things get a lot more complicated when you’re the best hookup he’s ever had.  

➵ pairing: ceo!jungkook x law student!f. reader

➵ genre: series, arranged marriage!au, fwb!au (?), haters to lovers!au, smut, fluff, angst  

➵ rating: 18+

➵ word count: 13k

➵ warnings: swearing, loads of angsty arguing aGAIN, sexual tension at its finest, depictions of anxiety and ptsd

➵ a/n: second chapter is hERE! thank you endlessly to everyone who waited for me despite completely disappearing 😭 life got crazy but i was always working on this second chapter, can’t wait until the third hehehehe. 🥺 pls forgive me for mistakes i did not have a beta bLEH. your feedback means the world to me <3

chapter two: “i’ll be in airplane mode”

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Jungkook is going to implode. 

He’s currently showering, letting the therapeutic water beat down his body this morning as he nurses a nasty crook in his neck; courtesy of sleeping on the couch. But that’s not the worst of his problems, no, the worst of his problems is soundlessly slumbering in his bed outside. 

You. 

 At this point, Jungkook has spaced out, palms flush against the shower wall as he depressively hangs his head. If he believed himself to be fucked before, he was deeply mistaken, because his situation has now plunged so deep into the ocean it could rival the Titanic. 

 When Jungkook was dragged out of bed with a horrible hangover and commanded to join his parents on this cruise last week for his marriage meeting, he at first, vehemently refused. 

 But after a demeaning scolding by his father, he was forced to agree. He seriously considered this matrimony then, anticipating a million possibilities besides you as his wife. He anticipated a too sweet, innocent girl, anticipated a spoiled brat or horrid witch or a woman so vapid he’d lose brain cells. 

 But he never anticipated you. 

 You, who reminds him of the sinful night he couldn’t vow to neglect. You, whose skin he couldn’t forget the softness of. You, whose lips beckoned visions of them all over his body. Seeing your face yesterday resurfaced such vivid memories in Jungkook’s head that he’s contemplating walking off the plank.

 He remembers everything. The ghost of your whimpers caressing his ear, your trembling legs hooking around his torso, your heart vibrating through your chest against his own. Your hands in his hair, your hips melding into one, losing himself in the tight, warm fit of you. Your feverish kisses and explorative tongue and sexy brain, your pleasured face and blissful moans and sharp nails digging into his sweaty muscles as he fucked you harder. 

 He shivers, usually able to brush off the finer details of a hookup, but there’s one slight… slight issue with attempting to forget you—you were the best hookup Jungkook has ever had. 

 He’d never had sex that cosmically good. You were simply different, from the second he laid eyes on you to the moment he was sheathed inside your heat; you were so good he was sporting a hard-on right now, so good he’s been standing under this shower for 20 minutes not having a moved a muscle, so good he isn’t sure how he’ll control himself when he sees you this morning in your sexy sleepwear. 

 Call him fucking weird, but Jungkook has always had a weak spot for women’s sleepwear. He loved himself a naked woman, sure, but something about her lazy hairstyle, cute cotton shorts or pants paired with a tank top or babydoll or whatever the fuck else women wear to sleep that could get him solid as a rock. 

 If he already can’t forget your velvet walls fitting his cock like a glove, then he’s surely fucked when he lays eyes on you this morning. 

 But he’s also fucked because he needs to stop envisioning your bent body, needs to squash the image of your plum-coloured bodycon dress pooled at your torso, needs to forget the sight of your over-spilled, gorgeous breasts and sopping cunt and swollen lips begging him for more. 

 For the love of God, he needs to avoid anything that has to do with touching you, or staring at your lush mouth, or gazing into your alluring eyes and forgetting what the hell you two were even talking about. 

 He wishes this was just a dream. A long, eerily vivid, impossible dream he’ll wake up from. Or better yet, he wishes this was all a simulation, waiting for somebody to tell him he’s simply living in the Matrix. But Jungkook knows better; nobody is going to tell him he chose the blue pill; nobody is going to rip a cord out of his cranium; nobody is going to wake him up. He’s seriously doomed to see this marriage through, to take over his father’s company and have the lifestyle he’s cherished for so long ripped out of his grasp.

 The pressure already felt unbearable, the idea of walking into his father’s office and knowing it would instead belong to him. His father had already arranged to announce the company’s inheritance by the end of next week, cursing Jungkook with a public ceremony that would slap an expiration date on his carefree life. 

 Jungkook cringes, grinding his teeth as the very idea irks his soul. He didn’t want to run a company, he didn’t want this responsibility; it’s far too demanding and disrupts his current flow. It’s not that he’s incapable, no, everyone has underestimated him his entire life and he liked it that way, loved relishing in the look on people's faces when he defied their expectations. But it’s like the axis of his world has shifted; he’s not only responsible for an entire company, but now responsible for a whole other fucking person. 

 You. 

 Jungkook seriously contemplates the idea of marriage, grimacing. He wasn’t all that good at relationships, hell, he can’t even remember the last time he dated someone. Hookups were much easier, whether they were one-night stands or entertaining a fuck buddy for a few months. It was low-maintenance, low-effort, only required a night of his time and not much else. 

 Marriage was a stretch, a long, long stretch for him, wondering how he’ll ever manage monogamy or sex with the same person… all the time.

 But then again, being married to you? Jungkook can’t lie, the idea isn’t half bad. He didn’t have to worry about the sex part; your sexual chemistry was clearly tested and proven, so thick only a diamond could incise it. It was good, too good, actually, so no faults there. Marriage with the best hookup he’s ever had couldn’t be so bad, right?

 If only you weren’t the very definition of a she-devil. 

 God, your attitude is nastier than you in bed. You’re all claws and teeth, cussing and shouting, feisty and daring. No grace, no elegance, not a subtle bone in your gorgeous body. Nothing is mild about you and Jungkook has a strong feeling you’d use any opportunity to shove him off this boat, even dust off your hands afterwards as if you’d just taken out the trash. 

 It’s wildly sexy to him, and he doesn’t understand why. Why does he find it hot when you’re quipping and snipping back at him? Why is he attracted to the way you scoff at him or grind your teeth or roll your eyes or make this cute angry face that’s equivalent to an explosive kitten? 

 Because yes, yes, you were an angry little kitten. You could deny it all you want, but something about your smaller stature and perfectly manicured nails and the way you hissed that was all cat-adjacent. Jungkook knew he was right—he’s secretly a genius—but was also fiercely attracted to the anger that boiled on your face when he called you a kitten. 

 Oh, does Jungkook already love making you mad. 

 He doesn’t know why, doesn’t understand why he’s so entertained by pissing you off or hearing you swear at him, but then again, he doesn’t really understand a damn thing about you.

 He still hates the things you say about him, the way you assume and write him off as any other playboy to walk this Earth because it’s not that simple. Jungkook is much more complex than that and he won’t stand for anybody arbitrarily labeling him. 

 He doesn’t know much moving forward with this, but all he knows is that he’s royally, royally fucked, because as much as you want to forget about that toe-curling, delicious night, Jungkook’s having a difficult ass time—he’ll never be able to wipe his memory of the most satisfying night of his life. 

 The horrid sun bleeds into your room so vibrantly, you feel like transforming into Icarus and fighting the overrated star. 

 You groan as you wake, despising the constant rocking of the ship. Your motion sickness isn’t as vicious as Taeksu’s, but something about knowing you’re not on stable ground leaves your brain disorienting. 

 Yawning, your eyes clear to observe the room you’re in, wondering where your mother is, until you remember what happened yesterday. 

 Yesterday. 

 You feel like smashing a pillow over your head, disintegrating into the bed, clicking your ruby heels three times until you’re home, because there’s no way you’re in your future fiance’s room… in his bed. 

 The same bed he slept in the night previously, having only belonged to him for a night, but the evidence of him still fresh. It smells like him, and you despise how attracted you are to the subtly sweet yet strongly musky, almost woodsy scent of him—a calming scent. You didn’t even know if the man slept naked, or worse, perhaps entertained someone last night. 

 It’s not a far fetch, really. He didn’t get the label of a playboy overnight. Jungkook earned his reputation as a result of years of practicing his ways. You felt inclined to categorize him as a manwhore, but it didn’t feel that black and white with Jungkook. And truly, are you any different? 

 Perhaps you’re not as persistent with your hookups, but sex is sex, and as long as you respect the people you sleep with, so what if you often get laid? It’s how you and Jungkook met in the first place. 

 Still doesn’t cure the nausea crawling up your gullet at the possibility that he fucked another woman in this bed. 

 Weary but attuned to your environment now, your brain finally decides to focus on the other person that should be in this room; Mr. Jeon Jungkook. His absence makes you wary, but then again, you can tell he’s not a monster, feeling relief once you contemplate at least Jungkook isn’t depraved enough to do anything indecent.

 You’re still in denial you even slept with the man, wondering what fresh hell you waltzed into. How could you have slept with the future heir of Jeon Entertainment and not known? 

 A swirl of pride fills your chest, detesting the feeling, but that doesn’t deny its existence. You happened to seduce a powerful man; of course you’re going to pat yourself on the back. Truly, sometimes a woman’s most lethal weapon can be her confidence. 

 Still, it doesn’t eradicate your predicament. Now you’re destined to marry the damn man? Jungkook can’t be keen on this marriage, he must’ve drank too much alcohol or smoked a wicked string of crack last night, because there’s nothing logical about your matrimony. And surely, as strict as your parents seem on the engagement, they have to stand down if both their children so vehemently reject it. 

 You’re hoping Jungkook woke up with a clearer head this morning, sighing. 

 Swimming in your questions of his absence, they’re answered when the door to the bathroom clicks open, and what emerges short circuits your brain. Steam curls around Jungkook as he extricates himself from the bathroom, in nothing but a fucking towel around his waist. 

 A very, very small towel. 

 Fuck the towel for being so small, because now you’re acutely aware of Jungkook’s size. For the love of Christ, his body is so deliciously thick you’re close to panting like a dog. His luscious, wavy locks of hair are soaked and tousled as he dries it with a towelette, catching the hint of his undercut—too sexy. 

 His honeyed-skin glistens with dampness, beads of water still stuck to him. You can’t help but remain glued to his physique, transfixed by his orgasmic masculinity, his powerful sex appeal—your gaze scavenges upwards. 

 Jungkook believed you’d still be asleep, clearly, because the shock once he meets your eyes is nearly comical. He freezes, wide-eyed, his own gaze suddenly leaving your face and traversing downwards. He lingers on your body, only half covered by the bed sheets, swallowing the image of your tank top and pajama shorts. 

 He visibly suppresses a reaction, still seemingly mesmerized by your sleepy state, and you’re utterly confused. He quickly tears his eyes away and clears his throat, reverting back to his condescending, smug grin. “Why are you staring, kitten? See something you like?” 

 That wakes you up. “Please, I was just wondering how self-satisfied you have to be to walk around nearly naked like that.” 

 “You’re in my room.” 

 The reminder nearly saws your dignity in half, regally tipping your chin. “Whatever, put all that,” you gesture in circles towards his body. “away.” 

 His lips curve widely, brows raised. “It’s nothing you haven’t seen before.” 

 Forced to remember that night, you blanch, awkwardly acquiescing. “Actually, you were clothed that night. So no, I haven’t seen you without your clothes.” 

 Jungkook makes an expression of surprise, eyes distant as he recalls that night, too. He seems to remember that he in fact, was clothed, while you were the one close to completely naked—fuck. “You’re right, I didn’t remember that.”

 You scoff, expecting him to have forgotten. Why would a night with you even be worth remembering to him? He’s slept with enough women to have experienced far better sex and a myriad of wildly kinky things, certainly you’re not up there on his list of most memorable nights. 

 A silence impregnates the air. Jungkook furrows his brows before he crosses the room to check his charging phone. He presses his towelette against his neck to dry, tongue toying with his lip ring as he scans notifications. The moment grants you the perfect opportunity to soak him in, utterly fascinated. 

 His muscles are undeniably impressive, but his general physique is what stuns you. His broad, dense shoulders and chest taper off into a thin, almost elegant waist, but expand out into robust hips and what you can only presume is a thick ass. The scarce hint of his thighs give you enough confirmation they’re bursting with muscle, and you, funny enough, were already aware of the instrument between his legs. 

 He’s more than well-endowed. 

 Nonetheless, what you’re most distracted by isn’t his unique build, but the tattoo sleeve sprawling up his arm. You caught a glimpse with his rolled up sleeves when he was pounding into you. But now, earning an exclusive view of the detailed ink spreading up to his shoulder is remarkably fascinating. 

 The most intriguing of all, though, is the large tattoo on the left side of his torso. You see leaves and branches of a tree, an almost ethereal depiction that dwindles down into a strong trunk that disappears behind his towel. You’re suddenly curious, wondering what the other half of the tree is but find your face heating, your ladybits throbbing at the idea that Jungkook has…

 The motherfucker has a thigh tattoo—holy fuck. It’s a sizeable work of art too, beginning by the bottom left of his abs, past his hips, and onto his thigh.

 For fuck’s sake, if that isn’t the hottest thing you’ve ever encountered. If only you could remove that pesky towel and get a good—

 “You know, if you want to look, you just have to ask.” 

 Stunned, your saliva halts in your throat when Jungkook catches you staring at what could be mistaken as his bulge. You meet his gaze, finding his thumbs hovering over his screen as he devilishly smirks at you. The heat in your face grows hotter, tossing him a dirty look. “Shut up, I want nothing to do with your nasty tattoos.” 

 A lop-sided grin plasters his face, tonguing the inside of his cheek. “You didn’t think they were nasty when we first met.” 

 “I was drunk,” you counter. “And it was dark, clearly I was blind.” 

 Jungkook rolls his eyes, not buying it. He cuts the weird silence that ensues afterwards by jerking his head towards the bathroom, hanging his towel around his neck. “I moved your things, by the way. I roughly guessed what was inside by the size of the bags. Sorry if I misplaced anything. Didn’t wanna look into your things like that.” 

 Your brows climb up, taken aback by the gesture. The fact that he minded your privacy by not peeking into your belongings leaves your chest feeling oddly warm. You don’t like it, cringing at the sensation. “Wow, look at you being a nice person.” 

 Jungkook laughs. “I told you I’m not a bad person.” 

 “I’ll be the judge of that.” 

 You challenge his gaze once again, narrowing your eyes as he similarly clenches his jaw, staring back. You could practically feel the electricity buzzing between you two, a cartoon-ish crack of lightning blistering your already searing tension. 

 Nearly succumbing to the pull of him, you scoff, dropping your gaze. You shove your blanket off and steady on your feet, nabbing your phone. You flip around your tangled hair as you find a missed FaceTime call from Taeksu, kissing your teeth once you remember that timezones would be a bitch—not to mention how he’ll react to your news. 

 How are you going to tell your best friend you’re getting married? You’d left the Korean Penninsula a single, happily-fucking woman and would return as an engaged one. And to a stranger at that? It's flabbergasting, abrupt news, and your potential man obviously requires Taeksu’s approval—his opinion has always mattered to you. You’d crumble if Taeksu hated your future beau. 

 And Jungkook? For the love of fuck, you have no clue how Taeksu would react to Jungkook. The man embodies everything Taeksu hates about men, and you know you’re in for it when you break the news to him. 

 You carefully step towards the main area of your suite, focused on texting an apologetic message to your best friend when you notice how eerily quiet Jungkook’s become. You quirk a brow as you peer up, surprised by his state. 

 He’s staring. At you. Like, staring staring. Not the weird, creepy kind of leering, but the kind of staring that’s indicative of a lovestruck fool, dewy lips parted and eyes wide with fascination. He does that a lot, you think. He did it the first time you two ever met. Jungkook looks at things like they’re the most mesmerizing in the world, as though this is his first life and he’s soaking everything in. 

 It’s kind of cute. Wait, no, it isn’t cute, there isn’t anything remotely cute about this man. He’s a selfish bastard and you hate his guts. 

 Not cute. 

 You watch his gaze wander your body, and he lands on your chest—suddenly you’re acutely aware of your no bra and tight tank-top situation.

 You frown. “Would you stop staring at my tits, please?” 

 Jungkook blinks, and then blinks again. He clears his throat and rips away his gaze, his face fresh with colour. You freeze—did he just get embarrassed? 

 He schools his expression, though, voice playful. “Sorry. Not my fault I remember them so vividly.” 

 Stiffening, you make a disgusted face at his obvious lie and march your way to your suitcase, ignoring him. You attempt to locate an outfit for the day to leave this room quicker, but alas, you’re not even aware of the itinerary today, having forgotten to ask your mother throughout the chaos yesterday. 

 “What are we doing today?” You ask curtly, not interested in a conversation with Jungkook. 

 “Your mother didn’t tell you?” 

 You give him a look that questions deserves, and Jungkook mollifies. “Our families are having brunch together. We’re meeting on the upper deck at 10. Get dressed and I’ll take you.” 

 “I don’t need you to escort me,” you scold him. “Don’t try to act like my fiancé, we’re not getting married.” 

 Jungkook’s expression twists with a snarl. “I’m gonna take you because you don’t know your way around the ship, genius. I’ve been on this ship since I was 7, you got on it yesterday.” 

 Oh. Okay, you contend that was stupid, but you’re starting to hate when Jungkook does humanly decent things because you don’t perceive him as humanly decent. He’s the object of your hatred and you’d love for things to remain that way—you can tell he’s bad news waiting to happen. 

 “Fine,” you bristle, “but don’t think you’ve changed my mind. I’m not saying yes to marrying you.” 

 Jungkook chuckles, shaking his head at your impossibility. You send him a saccharine sweet smile with two equally vulgar middle fingers, disappearing into the bathroom and grinding your teeth so hard you give yourself a headache. 

 Walking up the deck is a slap in the face, because the view you earn reaching the top is inexplicably majestic. The sea beautifully glitters as the morning sun catches the surface, the waves rippling calmly. The temperature today is placid with some light wind, causing the skirt of your sundress to infrequently kiss your legs. 

 Enchantment overcomes you, so soothed by the wonders of the sea you barely hear your name being called. It’s only when a warm, large hand presses to the small of your back do you startle. Jolting, you peer behind you to find that Jungkook’s joined you at the top of the steps.

 “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.” He apologizes. 

 You swallow, controlling your hormones as his palm sears into your lower back. His touch was so careful, incredibly gentle, and suddenly you’re hating yourself for being so affection-deprived that you’re freaking out over a touch. 

 It already didn’t serve you well to remember that Jungkook participates in some form of fighting exercise, to remember that his hands are hardened by hard work and dedication, that they most likely have the ability to beat a man to death, but lay upon your skin with such gentleness. 

 You snuff out the warm feeling in your chest, replacing it with pure ice. “Maybe if you didn’t randomly touch me.” 

 He blanches, retreating his hand to instead scoff, looking away. You step forward with a side-glare in Jungkook’s direction, aiming to locate the table your two families are sitting at instead. You surf the crowds of other families dining away, only to be interrupted by the high-pitched squeals of a little girl hurtling in your direction. 

 You’re confused, wondering whose lost child could be running amok. You almost bend down to question her, but you’re smacked with surprise when you see the little girl isn’t charging towards you. She’s sprinting right at Jungkook, her eyes bright with excitement and her smile wider than the entire world as she squeals, “Jungkookie oppa!!” 

 You nearly choke, shock gluing your sandals to the ground. Oppa… oh God, he wasn’t kidding; Jungkook really does have a little sister, who gazes at him like he’s the most fabulous person to ever exist. Jungkook’s smile grows impossibly wide, too, lighting up his handsome features in an adorable way.

 He holds open his arms for the little girl to jump into, Jungkook scrunching his nose with a giggle that reminds you of a bunny. The little girl giggles too as she soars into his embrace, Jungkook plucking her off the ground and spinning her around. He perches her on his hip as his voice lilts, lighter and airier. 

 “Mari! Good morning to you, did you sleep well?” 

 “Good morning! I did,” Mari nods big, her petite arms curling around Jungkook’s neck. “I had to sleep early because fairies need their beauty sleep, you know?” 

 Jungkook giggles, smoothing over the folds in her stunning pink outfit. Baby pink overalls with an iconic cream, chiffon blouse underneath, the tulle collar and sleeves to die for, all complemented by a pink bucket hat the same shade as her overalls. “Of course, but why would you need beauty sleep? You’re already the most beautiful.” 

 Mari shyly blushes, her stunning milky skin stained by rosy colour. She nuzzles into Jungkook’s neck, and it’s then her eyes land on you, widening with curiosity. 

 “Oppa, who is that?” She points at you, and Jungkook wraps his hand around hers, clicking his tongue. 

 “Mari, remember what I told you? It’s rude to point.” He softly reprimands her, meanwhile you’re still stuck on the image of a child perched on Jungkook’s hip and his humongous, tattooed hand engulfing her tiny one.

 Cute… stupidly cute. 

 Jungkook’s apprehensive when he regards you, his eyes revealing uncertainty—it’s then you recall what his little sister asked him. Clearly he’s stuck on what to label you, telepathically searching for some confirmation. 

 “Okay, I’m sorry.” Mari pouts, but becomes animated again. “But daddy told me we’re meeting your girlfriend today. Is she your girlfriend? Do you love her?” 

 Jungkook freezes, coughing like an idiot as he stumbles on his words. “What? No, I don’t love her. I mean, I like her—but not really—wait, that’s wrong too. I don’t—” 

 “She’s your girlfriend and you don’t love her?” Mari interrogates her brother, and you force back a laugh as her adorable eyebrows furrow. “That’s bad, oppa! How could you not love your girlfriend? You’re so mean.” 

 Jungkook’s blushing now, his embarrassment too apparent to hide. He fumbles again with basic English, and now it’s truly too hard to hold it back. You laugh, brightly and unapologetically. Jungkook appears even more stuck now, struggling to survive. “Mari, she’s not my girlfriend. She’s—” 

 “His fiancée.” You interject, a warm smile spreading across your face. “I’m engaged to your older brother”

 For a second, Mari doesn’t react, and you’re horrified that you’ve said the wrong thing; perhaps came off too invasive or pried into their special relationship, but Mari’s eyes then glitter, just like her older brother’s kind of do. Her radiant grin follows, “Oh my God! Am I finally gonna have an older sister? Does this mean I get an older sister?” 

 Her excitement fills your insides with sunshine, being bombarded by her cute questions and joyful screeching and animated clapping. Jungkook has to simmer her down with constant hushing before placing her on the deck, descending onto a knee before her. 

 “We’ll talk more later, okay? Now go sprout fairy wings and tell mom and dad that me and my… fiancée are here.” Jungkook momentarily hesitates before pinching Mari’s cheek. She nods big and a charming smile plasters Jungkook’s attractive face, pressing a chaste kiss to the top of his little sister’s head before she toddles off. 

 You eye Jungkook with a playful, quirked brow, arms crossed. He purses his lips with light-hearted embarrassment as he regains his full height, rubbing the back of his neck. “She likes pretending she’s a descendant of fairies sometimes.” 

 You can’t contain your chuckle, hiding it behind your palm. “Not really pretend when she’s as adorably tiny as a fairy, and cute.” 

 “She really is the cutest, huh?” Jungkook adds, and you can’t help but soften at the fondness in his eyes. It’s then you remember what Jungkook told you last night; that he was only going through with his parents' wishes for his sister. At first, you found it bullshit, but seeing the empirical evidence of their bond left you truly wondering what Jungkook’s parents are holding over his head. 

 Said man indicates you two should join your families, beginning to walk side-by-side together, his hands snug in his trouser pockets. He decided to wear a black pair with a black button up and blazer—he clearly loves black, and God, does it look sexy on him. 

 Shit.

 “So… fiancée? I thought you were set on arguing away this marriage.” 

 Your gaze fixates on him, watching the ocean breeze leave its waves in his chocolate-coloured hair, lightly tossing it around. The sun also happens to exemplify his soft, incomparable beauty, and it’s now you realize the gorgeous mocha-brown of his rather kind eyes. 

 You catch yourself—you need to stop looking at this man, he’s too attractive for his own good. “I really wanted to, but the second your sister asked me who I was and said your father already told her… I realized that this marriage isn’t just about us. She got so excited thinking of me as her older sister that telling her that I’d only be a stranger soon… it felt wrong.” 

 It’s true. How would you feel if your little brother was elated to have an older brother like Jungkook, only for the man to claim that he’s nobody worth remembering? That he’d be a stranger? This entire situation was something kids didn’t need to understand, or else you’d be cruelly beating their concepts of love and marriage with a bat. 

 You suddenly despise your mother again; you realize this was all a tactic. She perfectly set this up so you couldn’t say no to this proposal—your father most likely knows, Jihoon probably understands a bare-bones version appropriate for a 12-year old, and your mother clearly allowed the Jeons to inform others of the match. Hell, the Jeons are literally paying for this entire luxurious vacation… how could you say no? 

 “So you’re agreeing… to marry me?” Jungkook sounds utterly displaced. 

 You roll your eyes. “I didn’t say that, just that I’m not opposed to being called your fiancée.” 

 Jungkook pouts, and your heart lurches at the way he pouts. Fuck. “How can you be okay with being labelled my fiancée but not marrying me? Engagement leads to marriage, you know.” 

 “Not all,” you counter with a shrug. “Just because you’re engaged doesn’t mean you have to marry. Technically, we can be engaged for a few years and not marry. The engagement then becomes legally null and void.” 

 “Oh God,” Jungkook drawls. “You’re such a lawyer.” 

 You smirk. “What can I say? Two lawyers raised me.” 

 Jungkook rolls his eyes, becoming silent then. You realize in that silence that you two just had a normal, nice conversation—something about the idea both pleases and scares you. 

 “Ah, there they are! Our happy couple.” 

 Your attention is stolen by Jungkook’s father welcoming you both to the table, slightly irked to find that of course, everyone situated themselves so that you and Jungkook were forced to sit next to each other. 

 Quite honestly, you’d take that over sitting next to your mother, so you shut your mouth and comply. You supply everyone with warm greetings without really acknowledging your mother, allowing the mouth-watering, varietal smells of breakfast to become your distraction. 

 “Eggs are my favourite!” 

 Everyone at the table happily giggles at Mari’s comments throughout breakfast, adorably monologuing why every breakfast item is her favourite until she finds a new one to adore. 

 She always did that, always looked at the world with bright eyes and an exuberant smile and sometimes, Jungkook envied that. Envied that his little sister could remain oblivious to the working world, could live in ignorant bliss. 

 Could be free of the expectations he was burdened with. 

 Jungkook would never trade places with his little sister, however, because he’d much rather be the one with arrows in his back, protecting her from this cruel world. He’d much rather earn the brunt of his father’s anger or the disappointment of his mother or his family’s suffocating expectations than let Mari experience it. 

 So what if he was his parents’ emotional punching bag? The eldest? The firstborn son cursed with a decided life? As long as Mari was happy, then Jungkook was happy. It’s truly the only reason why he hasn’t abandoned this family yet, excommunicated himself or run way; he couldn’t allow those horrid responsibilities to fall on Mari’s shoulders. 

 Jungkook unconsciously grins as he watches her happily eat, humming her own little tune and floating in her unique world. She’d always been a little quirky, a little eccentric, but it was all part of her adorable charm, and Jungkook could never get enough of her. 

 Her curiosity was another object of his affection, but earlier, Mari’s curiosity nearly made him choke on his saliva. 

 Leave it to his little sister to ask you if you’re his girlfriend and whether he loves you or not. The embarrassment heated his face instantly, the words “girlfriend” and “love” completely foreign between you two. Jungkook was certain at the time you’d completely shut down his sister, so it was to his surprise you gorgeously smiled instead and introduced yourself as his fiancée. 

 Jungkook took a deep breath, relieved that you’d actually agreed to this match. Even if you spouted some bullshit about only being engaged but not marrying, it was enough for him. As long as Jungkook’s parents could see him in a committed relationship, he was okay. 

 That’s all this was for, anyway. His parents knew he’d never had a real relationship and that marriage would be enough to settle him down. They wanted him to grow up and stop being a child, and apparently marriage along with being handed over an entire company would do the trick. 

 Stupid shit, absolutely stupid shit. 

 “So, I’ve heard that our itinerary in the Maldives will be quite eventful.” Jungkook perks up as your mother begins some conversation. She appears beaming, though her eyes keep flitting towards her daughter; his very cool, aloof fiancée next to him. 

 Jungkook bristles when he remembers your relationship with her at the moment—he could practically taste the amount of animosity you had for her now. 

 He’d genuinely believed your reaction to your mother last night was over-the-top; surely not being told something couldn’t sting that badly. But now, he realizes just how awful it is. Brushing off the topic of your father after indicating he was sick meant that you have some sort of deep, special bond with your mother. Her ambush must’ve burned, and not informing you until after being dragged all the way to the meeting… that just adds insult to injury. 

 “Yes, we’ve got quite the trip planned for you ladies.” Jungkook’s mother merrily begins listing everything in store, causing him to nearly groan. He knew his parents were only pulling every rabbit out of the hat for this trip to buy your enthusiastic “yes”. The tactic was clear. 

 “Indeed,” Jungkook’s father pitches in, slicing into his sausage. “We just wanted to thank you two for joining us, and especially Y/N for being so kind to my son. I hear you’ve accepted his proposal.” Jungkook’s father smiles brightly at Mari, who shyly hides herself. 

 “Well,” Jungkook interjects, “I haven’t exactly proposed—“ 

 “I didn’t ask you, son.” His father cuts him off—Jungkook has to bite back a derisive scoff. 

 Beside him, you hesitate, swallowing your fruits. “Y-yes, Mr. Jeon. How could I say no to your wonderful son? He’s quite the catch.” 

 Jungkook’s brows furrow, peering at you bewilderingly—just this morning you were spitting venom at him, what’s with your attitude shift? But then, he watches you nervously glance in Mari’s direction, and suddenly everything makes sense. You’re a lawyer’s daughter, and the internet taught him that you’re in law school; lies are probably your forté. 

 “Ah, I’m so glad to hear that.” Jungkook’s father heartily chuckles. “I know he may not be a man of the best reputation, so thank you for tolerating him.” 

 Of course, his father was going to pull some shit like this. He always had an outstanding ability—the power to dress condescension and belittling with pretty words. 

 Jungkook couldn’t help but scoff. “Says you.” 

 “I’m sorry,” his father fakely apologizes. “I didn’t catch that, son. What did you say?” 

 “Nothing, father.” 

 “That’s what I thought.” He snips, and Jungkook’s suddenly finding his bacon too salty. “But yes, I know my son is known for often partying and drinking, I will not hide that. His attitude is also quite deviant and insolent, though he is fierce in his passions. I hope that makes up for his many faults.” 

 Jungkook is now seriously contemplating tossing this plate at his father. He shouldn’t have expected anything less, obviously he would publicly trash him in front of everyone just to teach him a lesson. The table evidently grows a little awkward too, though his father carries on, completely unperturbed. 

 “He will be taking over my company, so you will be marrying the CEO of Jeon Entertainment, Y/N. I hope you and your mother will appreciate that. He may not be smart enough to run the company, but he will learn, even if he knows more about clubbing than he does about business.” 

 His father means it as a joke, laughing afterward, and some people grant him a polite chuckle. Jungkook doesn’t dare look up, afraid of the faces he’ll find; agreeing with your father, horrified by his lack of respect for him. So Jungkook eats, he eats because it’s calming, because it’s helping him bite his tongue and stopping him from ripping into his father. 

 “Of course, we’ve attempted to discipline him. You know us parents, always trying to do the best for our children. Even if they can be ungrateful and don’t understand that it’s for their betterment, it’s still crucial to help them grow up.” Jungkook’s father adds. “Isn’t that right, Jungkook?” 

 Jungkook grips his fork so hard he thinks he may dent it, gritting through a smile. “May I politely remind you I’m not a child anymore, father? I don’t need to be disciplined.” 

 “Mm, then I suggest you stop acting like one. Sometimes I cannot seem to tell you and Mari apart.” 

 Nostrils flaring and fists tightly clenched, Jungkook’s practicing self-control of the century right now. This is normal, Jungkook tells himself, a well-precedented occurrence. He’s learned how to control himself as a result, has learned how to tolerate his father’s bullshit and his exponential ability to insult him.  

 Jungkook’s mother picks up on the tension, redirecting like she always does. “W-well then, Y/L/N ladies, I can’t help but notice your youngest isn’t here. Where is he? We’re missing him terribly.” 

 Your mother immediately jumps in, covering her mouth as she chews. “Oh, yes. Jihoon had school and I didn’t want to interrupt his studies. He’s very particular about school, my youngest.” 

 “Oh wow!” Jungkook’s mother beams. “It seems we have a future scholar. Remind me of his age again?” 

 “He’s 12, and brilliant.” You add in beside Jungkook, who watches you gracefully handle conversing about your brother with his mother. It seems Jungkook was slightly mistaken before, maybe you could have some grace—it appears you don’t practice it with him, though.

 “I see, is someone looking after him?” Jungkook’s mother queries. 

 “Yes, our housekeeper who has been with us for a very long time watches over him.” Your mother chimes. 

 “That’s lovely. Does your husband look after him as well?” 

 At that, you freeze beside him, and Jungkook’s acutely attuned now. In his Google search earlier, he couldn’t find anything substantial regarding what happened to your father. He only read vague articles about an incident that temporarily impacted his role at the family law firm. 

 But when you spoke of him, you mentioned sickness? Jungkook’s never been more confused. 

 “My husband is still… recovering.” Your mother hesitates with her wording, flitting towards you, who’s gone so stiff Jungkook’s certain you’re having an aneurysm. He glimpses in your direction, finding your complexion bleak, your eyes wide. He can practically see the turmoil in your mind, fighting to remain normal. 

 “The housekeeper is more than kind with Jihoon, so there’s no need. My husband can’t—“ 

 “Mother.” 

 Everyone freezes when they hear your reprimanding tone. Your animosity is multiplied by tenfold, and Jungkook’s surprised to see your tightened jaw and clenched fists, eyes fierce with frustration. 

 And it’s all directed at your mother. 

 Said woman clears her throat, a sense of superiority tainting her persona. “Y/N, I believe we can talk about your father with our new family—“

 “No.” You admonish, the absolute epitome of anger. But it’s not all angst, though; there’s a tangible amount of… sadness in your eyes. Deep, deep sorrow that appears to cloud your mind—Jungkook’s eyebrows furrow. 

 “You will not take that away from me, mom. Never.” 

 The table is stunned. Even Mari’s gone rigid, observing the interaction with slightly scared, alert eyes. Jungkook’s mother and father attempt to act as though they’re eating, but they’re both secretly invested. Jungkook’s food remains neglected, getting cold. 

 “I have not taken anything away from you,” your mother fortifies her tone. “They are things you were eventually going to have; I merely sped up the process. A process that should have been sped up long ago.” 

 Jungkook detects multiple layers to this conversation, evident by the dense tension that suffocates the atmosphere. You consequently light on fire beside him, replicating the nature of a pissed-off lioness “Don’t you dare say that to me.” 

 “I can say whatever I want,” your mother presses. “I am your mother, Y/N, and I am simply doing what’s best for you.” 

 “No, you only do what’s best for you.” 

 He’s surprised to hear your voice—did it just crack? It sounds heavy and miserable, and sitting beside you grants him an exclusive view to your state. Your trembling is concerning, and your nails are digging into your palms. You practically heave, eyes glossy. “Don’t tell me to move on, I will not simply move on.” 

 “You must,” Your mother insists, folding her arms. “It’s what your father would’ve wanted.” 

 “You don’t know what he would’ve wanted!” 

 Your volume shocks everyone, malice radiating off you in waves. Now, Jungkook’s alarmed. This is not the fireball of a woman he met. Where were your snarky remarks and unwavering confidence? Where was your bad bitch energy and ‘I don’t give a fuck’ attitude? You’re shaking like a goddamn leaf, breaths destabilized and eyes bright with dread, anxiety, panic. 

 Jungkook can’t watch this, his chest inexplicably sinking. 

 “Mother, father. I realize that I haven’t given Y/N a tour of the ship yet.” He suddenly interjects, lightening the tension with his chirpy tone. “It’d be a shame if she didn’t see it before we docked in Hong Kong for our flight. I should show her around, huh?” Jungkook reaches out his hand to rest upon your shoulder. He’s terrified you’ll flick it away, certain, actually, that you’d smack the shit out of him for randomly touching you again.

 But Jungkook gains no response, and he’s incredibly relieved. He flickers towards you to find that you’ve entirely withdrawn from this brunch, eyes vacant. Your detachment feels incredibly off to Jungkook, whose empathy swirls against his will. 

 God-fucking-dammit.

 “Yes, son. Why don’t you show Y/N around? The ship will belong to you and her one day, anyway.” Jungkook’s father adds on, and Jungkook fights the urge to gag. 

 “Yes, father.” 

 Jungkook politely smiles at the table before rising, again, daring to rest his hand on your shoulder. “Come with me, Y/N.” 

 He watches as your eyes shift towards him, empty and darker than an abyss. Confusion with a hint of concern washes through Jungkook, but he forces himself to snuff out the unusual feeling. 

 In front of him, you clear your throat before snapping an irate look at your mother. You shoot up from your seat, immediately stomping away. Jungkook respectfully bows to everyone before tagging along, hot on your trail. 

  You’re going to fucking implode. 

 Every organ in your body is going haywire and your chest feels like it’s on fire. Your head is filled with lead, charging away from that horrid brunch with every ounce of strength you can muster. 

 Anger is all you feel. Or Is it even anger? Truly? Is it rather the stress you endure because of your trauma? Is it the force of flashbacks attacking you? Is it the blood curdling in your veins when you’re urged to remember that horrifying night? 

 And the fact that it’s your own mother who forces you to feel this way, to feel so helpless, weak, like you’re drowning. 

 Why? Why can’t your mother ever let you heal in your own way? Why does she push and push and push you until you have no choice but to bend to her will? She has no right to speak about your father as if it doesn’t kill you, doesn’t have the right to override your feelings or spring things onto you without consulting you first. 

 She’s always done this. She may have been your confidant, forming an irrevocable bond full of unwavering support, but this was her one, fatal flaw; she was an emotionless woman. 

 Forged by Michelangelo himself, your mother has been an unfeeling statue for most of your life. She never entertained emotions. She found them tedious and merely operated as though life were a game and she was its master. She could never understand how humans let their emotions rule them. She was kind, yes, but has always been able to compartmentalize her feelings unlike any other, separate her mind and heart and excel at anything with incomparable efficiency.

 She constantly wanted the same for you. 

 But you’re not a robot, you’re not unfeeling. You’re a sentient fucking being who’s been urged her entire life to simply move on from things—it’s not that simple for you, and she’s irritating you beyond what you can tolerate now.

 Insisting you openly relay your family situation? Admonishing you in front of strangers? This marriage? Everything about her enrages you at this moment, but what happened earlier was the cherry on top—she’d seen first hand what happened to you because of your father, had seen the way you’d destroyed yourself and continued to suffer as a result. 

 Your mind brews in rage and self-loathing, transporting to that night… that horrid, horrid night—

 You suddenly feel a strong hand clasp your bicep, and it’s their goddamn funeral. You grab their wrist with your opposite hand, swiftly spinning around before tugging your opponent towards you. The move is so basic to you it feels like breathing, the other individual now victim to your arm that sweeps around the front of their neck while your free one links with it from behind, choke-holding them.

 “Holy fuck—” You hear a familiar voice struggle, catching a whiff of shea butter with a hint of cedarwood that indicates exactly who this is. You watch as Jungkook’s tattooed hand claps your arm to release him, and panic overrides you. 

 You immediately disengage, shocked. Jungkook stumbles out of your grasp and stares at you in bewilderment, rubbing his throat. “Jesus, Y/N… are you alright?” 

 You blink, then blink again. “I just… I just nearly choked you, and you’re asking if I’m alright?” 

 The man across from you merely clears his throat, fixing the clothes you minutely ruffled. “Clearly you only attacked me because you thought you were in danger.” He says, his round, shimmering eyes sweeping over you. “You okay?” 

 Something about his care annoys you in this moment; perhaps the fact that he does so despite nearly hurting him, or because you haven’t experienced someone else’s genuine concern in ages. “I’m-I’m fine.” 

 A silence passes, your arms folding over your chest as Jungkook merely stands, rubbing the back of his neck. You’re both situated on the side of the ship, overlooking the vast sea as the gawks of seagulls pierce your quietude. Your attention is held captive by the sea, Jungkook abandoning his stance to instead lean against the railing, forearms pressing into the metal.

 He shoots you a curious look. “You gonna tell me how the hell you know an arm-drag rear naked choke?” 

 Your brows rise, slightly surprised. “You know the move I pulled on you?” 

 Jungkook nods. “That was an MMA move. Jiu Jitsu, to be specific. How did you know how to do that?” 

 You worry your bottom lip, oddly submitting to his questioning. “I did MMA for 8 years. My… dad took me.” 

 The memory of your first class washes over you like a tsunami. You could practically smell the air tinged with sweat, dry wood and old plastic mats. Could feel your first blossom of bruises, your muscles aching, your body slowly becoming accustomed to the movements. Could hear the sound of your instructor shouting, your friends giggling…

 Your father cheering. 

 “For 8 years? That’s impressive.” Jungkook comments with a handsome grin, sucking you back into reality. “But damn, now I know you can actually kick my ass. I don’t like that.” 

 That produces a faint snort from you. “Just don’t give me a reason to.” 

 Jungkook lightly chuckles, and you’re left to stew again. Feelings of guilt, regret, and loathing still wad up inside you, suffocating your heart and restricting your lungs. It’s a chronic sensation that never goes away, constantly licking at your chest ever since that one day. You let out a loud exhalation, and then laugh, dryly and humourlessly. 

 “Why did I just tell you that?” 

 “Tell me what?” 

 “About my father… why did I tell you that? How am I not disgusted by your presence right now?” You contemplate, scoffing.

 Jungkook rolls his eyes, shaking his head. “Listen, if you’re truly uncomfortable with my presence or talking about anything right now, then I’ll leave. Just say it outright” 

 You narrow your eyes at him. “Why are you being nice to me?” 

 His eyebrows quirk, confused. “Because it’s the humanly decent thing to do? You literally looked like you were going to jump off the ship a couple minutes ago,” Jungkook then lifts his hands in surrender. “My bad for having a heart.” 

 You saccharinely grin. “Sorry, I was under the impression you didn’t have one after you abandoned me in my apartment.” 

 Jungkook faces you, his gaze heavy with frustration—he humourlessly huffs. “Fine, you know what? I don’t have a heart. In fact, I just wanted to make sure you didn’t haul yourself overboard because I still need someone to marry.” 

 You gape. “You fucking mongrel.” 

 Jungkook smirks. “You know what you need to do, Y/N? You need to stop assuming and accusing me of things because of that night.” He retorts. “Would serve your look a whole lot better.” 

 “And what the fuck does that mean?” 

 His lips curve sinfully. “Bitterness makes a woman age, kitten.” 

 You gasp, flaring with anger. “You’re a fucking asshole, you know that? An obnoxious, idiotic asshole.” 

 “Mmm, look at you talking dirty.” He hums, leaning his cheek into his palm. “I do have to say, though, I’m more into degrading than being the one degraded.” 

 Your mouth hangs open. “Wow, you’re a piece of fucking work.” 

 “Indeed,” Jungkook gloats. “Rumour has it the Mona Lisa is jealous of me.” 

 You half-laugh, half-scoff, losing all your patience. “Can you ever have a normal fucking conversation?” 

 “Where you’re concerned?” He raises his brows. “Absolutely not.” 

 You shake your head with a derisive chuckle, leaning over the railing as you look away, needing to collect your wits. He’s so utterly disorienting you’re experiencing sensory overload. 

 Jungkook sighs next to you, swallowing. “Listen, Y/N. Real talk is that you seriously need to stop assuming things about me. Get to know me before you start saying shit. Funny how you’re a lawyer but  jump to conclusions about me without any evidence.” 

 “Fuck off.” You spit, scowling at him. “How can I see you as anything but an asshole when that’s all you ever are? And I’m not a lawyer yet, genius, I’m still only a student.” 

 “Same shit.” He claps back. “And it’s like I said before, you need to get to know me.”  

 You plaster on a fake smile, facing him. “That would be much easier if your face didn’t piss me off.” 

 Jungkook narrows his eyes, but a devilishly attractive smirk curves his lips, tonguing the inside of his cheek. “Oh yeah? You seemed to like it a whole lot when it was between your legs.”

 Heat flares your cheeks. Memories of that night have already plagued you ever since he left, and you’re not up for a reminder when he’s here, so close, in front of you. 

 Smirking, eyeing you carefully… looking edible. 

 “Whatever.” You concede. “Why are you even here? Did you come only to be an asshole like usual?” 

 Jungkook sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Yes, I chased after you like an idiot because I simply wanted to be an asshole, Y/N.” 

 “Don’t get sarcastic,” you admonish him. “That’s all you’ve done the entire time you’ve been here.” 

 He pulls back his lapels to perch his hands on his hips, accentuating his gorgeous, tiny waist—fuck. “I came because you looked like you were on the verge of a panic attack, and I actually wanted to make sure you didn’t haul yourself overboard.” 

 You challenge him with an invigorating glare, but find his opposition lacking. Jungkook isn’t kidding, he seriously meant what he just said. You realize then that in a way, Jungkook is trying to… care about you. Even if he hides it behind his snarky remarks and quippy attitude, he technically granted you an out earlier from that brunch. Whatever prompted him to speak up during your argument with your mother and to follow you out here came from a genuine place in his heart. 

 You loosen up, tipping your chin. “Thank you, or whatever. But I’m not hauling myself overboard.” 

 He grins. “I don’t know about that, kitten; you seem small enough to get tipped over if we hit a wave.” 

 Mouth falling open, you lift a threatening hand. “You motherfucker—” 

 Jungkook laughs as he dodges you, his hands up in surrender, and it’s unfair how mesmerizing his laugh is. “Okay, okay. I take it back.” He concedes. “I think you’d only get tipped over if we made an abrupt turn.” 

 At that, you snarl wildly before shoving him away, an unexpected laugh and smile escaping you. Jungkook joins you, too, and suddenly, you can’t remember why you came out here. 

  You remember when you were 8, strapped to your seat with an iron-clad belt as you stared out the circular window with unprecedented eagerness. 

 Your excitement was unmatched, swinging your legs back and forth while contemplating the country you’d be visiting. You’d only ever seen photos of Finland in school, a surreal, encapsulating nation that swept you into a daydream. But a series of jerks and jolts tore you away from that dream, fear intoxicating your system as you looked at your mother in horror, begging for an answer. 

 Turbulence, she’d called it, and ever since then, you’ve been irrationally afraid of flying. 

 Even now, as you grip the edge of your seat and carefully breathe, you can feel the horror you felt back then pinning your body in place, limbs frozen with apprehension. Repeatedly, you steel your nerves, telling yourself over and over and again that it’s only a 7 hour flight, that you’ll be in the Maldives soon and that the likelihood of a plane crashing is extremely minimal. 

 Those thoughts still don’t deter your persistent terror. 

 It’s not until a hand in front of you smooths over your knee do your eyes wretch open. “Are you okay?” 

 You find Jungkook’s warm, chocolatey eyes gazing at you, his features softened with a detectable amount of concern. You suck in a breath, flickering towards the tattooed hand nestled over your skin, and every hormone in your body does a happy dance. You despise the feeling. This feeling of helplessness and inexplicable desire that bolsters through you every time Jungkook touches you; despise that it beckons memories of that night, of his hands sliding down your body and gripping you in sinful places. 

 For fuck’s sake, it’s just a touch, Y/N. 

 You swallow, wetting your lips with your tongue. “Yeah, I’m fine.” 

 “You sure?” He queries, still not having moved his damn hand yet. Why does his inked hand look so sexy against your skin? “You don’t seem okay.” 

 Again, another swallow, remembering to focus on your breaths. “I don’t like flying.” 

 Jungkook’s brows curiously furrow at that, and it’s now you realize how much he speaks with his eyebrows. His lips also had the tendency to pout. Whether he was angry, upset, arguing, they puckered cutely to the point in which you could delude yourself into believing he’s someone cute, someone worth marrying. 

 Definitely not.

 “You’re afraid of flying?” 

 “Yes,” you flatly answer. “What? It’s a completely normal thing.” 

 “No, it is.” Jungkook contends, pursing his lips. “I just didn’t expect…” He trails off, and suddenly you’re very curious about his next words. 

 “Didn’t expect what?” 

 “Didn’t expect for you to have a fear like that.” He replies, doe eyes boring into your soul. His tongue darts out to lick his lips, drawing your attention to his lip ring. What you wouldn’t give to feel it against your lips again. 

 “What about it?” You challenge. “Everyone’s afraid of something.” 

 “I know,” he says, shrugging. “It’s just cute.” 

 You freeze, feeling your cheeks heat up. Infuriation consumes you however when you contemplate how juvenile such a reaction is; who cares if he thinks you’re cute. “Shut up.” 

 The corner of his mouth tugs up. “I like when you tell me to shut up.” 

 “Really?” You snort. “I thought you weren’t into being degraded.” 

 He scoffs, reclining back as he peers out the window, folding his hands over his abs. “Try listening to music, or napping. It helps with the nerves.” 

 Taken aback, you acquiesce, his advice oddly… comforting. “I’m not falling asleep with you in my vicinity.” 

 He sinfully smirks, doe eyes shifting to you. “Of course; why dream of me when you can see me in the flesh?”

 Exhausted by him, you huff, tossing him a dirty look before snatching his blanket stuffed in his seat compartment. “Whatever; I’ll be in airplane mode.” 

It’s a dumb gesture, but you hope it delivers a “fuck you” enough, cuddling into a sleepy ball behind it and gluing your eyes shut.

You swear you hear Jungkook chuckle, but convince yourself it’s in your head.

 “For the love of fuck.” 

 You struggle to haul your suitcase across the last stretch of the corridor, hating yourself for packing so much. One of its wheel’s stupidly broke during the flight, and now you’re stuck shoving it across the floor. 

 The bell boy had already transported it up to your floor, but you insisted you could move it the last distance after watching him struggle, too. Goddamn you. 

 “Do you need help?” Jungkook’s voice filters in, nearly smacking your forehead over how he always seems to find you looking stupid. 

 “No, thank you.” You grin, but it’s forced and fake. Jungkook snorts, effortlessly gliding his things past you; a duffel bag perched over his shoulder as he wheels his suitcase.  

 “Suit yourself—pun intended.” 

 And he walks on, completely unbothered. You grit your teeth, knowing your instinctual habit of challenging Jungkook at every turn isn’t going to serve you well right now—you momentarily throw your pride to the wolves. 

 “Actually… actually! Wait!” 

 Jungkook halts, whirling around with a beautiful grin. “Yes, kitten?” 

 You narrow your eyes at the petname. “Could you help me?” 

  He smirks. “I’d be happy to.” 

 You watch as Jungkook walks a few meters down and opens a door, plopping his things inside the room—it must be his. He returns to you, his face far too smiley for your liking. 

 He’s up to something. 

 “Let me take that off your hands,” he cocks his head towards your suitcase, holding out his hand. You nestle the handle into his palm before Jungkook rips his hand away, tucking it behind his back. 

 “Actually, I think I need you to do something for me first.” The corner’s of Jungkook’s mouth evilly curve, and you resist the urge to slap him. 

 “Excuse me?” 

 “You should be familiar with quid pro quo, kitten.” He purrs. “Before I help you, can you do something for me?” 

 You roll your eyes at his use of the legal term. “And what the hell do you want from me?” 

 Jungkook suddenly advances on you, and you’re shocked by the action. You naturally falter back until you’re met by the wall behind you, his body pinning you to the surface. Jungkook’s smirk is unwavering, his eyes twirling with amusement as he fixates on yours. 

 You swear you see him flicker towards your lips, but he quickly abandons ship. 

 You feel the air sucked out of your lungs when Jungkook rests a hand against the wall by your head, leaning over. He towers you, and God, does his scent and warmth absolutely fuck with you. 

 “I want you to tell me that I’m handsome,” he demands, timbre deep and playful. “And that I’m the best fuck of your life.” 

 You choke. “Pardon-fucking-me?” 

 “You heard me,” Jungkook drags his tongue across his dewy, coral lips. “Tell me those things, and I’ll help you out.” 

 “Why do you need me to tell you those things? Are you mad?” 

 “Nope. Just an asshole, according to you.” 

 Your anger flares, grinding your teeth as you chew on a comeback, but it becomes stifled in your throat when Jungkook’s tongue starts fiddling with his lip ring. It seems like a habit he’s not even aware of, and you’re 100% certain it’s going to become your greatest weakness. 

 He leans in closer, and his warmth immediately leaves an impression within your very soul. His aura, his imposing presence burns you, the kind that’s an addictive heat, a drug you never want to give up. 

 “You’re missing braincells if you think I’m going to say that,” you spit back, eyes menacing as they cut into him, as if his impressive body shoved against yours isn’t reminding you of when he piston-fucked you. “I told you, you were a mistake.” 

 Jungkook’s eyes minutely change, as though he experienced a small pang, but he clears it away, replacing it with unflappable sensuality. “You won’t think that for long.” 

 Caught in an intoxicating stare with him, your body betrays you. His proximity is stirring old sensations inside you and you absolutely despite it; your pussy pulsing, your veins singing, your brain malfunctioning. This song and dance you two seem to do is something of another world, but it corrupts you all the time, detrimental to your mental health and yet the sweetest melody to every vessel in your body. 

 You are so incredibly fucked. 

 “Screw you, why can’t you just pick up the damn bag?” 

 Jungkook sexily chuckles. “Because it’s so much more fun seeing this look on your face.” 

 You attempt to school your expression, but it’s impossible in his presence. You fume, cheeks heating. “For the love of fuck, Jungkook, I’m not saying it.” 

 “Yes you are.” 

 “No I’m not.” 

 “Yes, you are.” 

 “No, I’m not!” 

 Jungkook laughs, hearty and warm. “Do you really want to deny me right now, kitten? When I’m the only thing standing between you and finally relaxing in a hotel room after a 7-hour flight?” 

 “Fucking, oh my God.” You huff out, folding your arms over your chest. “Fine. You’re… handsome. And you’re the best… you’re the best…” 

 Jungkook dramatically cups his ear. “I’m the best what now, kitten?” 

 “Thebestfuofmylife.” 

 He leans in closer, amused eyes looking down at you. His timbre drops an octave, low and throaty. “Speak clearer, Y/N.” 

 “The best…” You can’t get yourself to say it, not when he’s so close you’re overheating, not when he’s giving you those eyes. “Oh fuck it, I’m not saying this.”

 “Then do you want me to remind you of our night together again, kitten?” Jungkook’s entire demeanour suddenly changes. His voice is coated in lust as he wets his lips. “Want me to recall every depraved way I touched your body? I think I started at your waist, then I glided my hands up your stomach, then I gripped your hair and slid down your arms and cupped your—” 

 “Okay, fucking fine! You’re handsome and you’re the best fuck of my life! There!” 

 Jungkook’s grin is so wickedly satisfied you want to chokehold him again. He retracts his hand from the wall and nudges the bottom of your chin, bouncing his brows. “See? Told you you wouldn’t think of me as a mistake for long.” 

 You don’t even have time to react before Jungkook nabs your suitcase and effortlessly balances the three wheels, lugging it down the hall. 

 Exasperated, you clench your fists as you follow him. 

 “Where’s your room?”

 Still whiplashed by earlier, you swallow away your mixed emotions. “Um, so actually… there's a problem with that.” 

 He glances over his shoulder. “What problem?” 

 “I’m sharing a room with my mom, and I really don’t want to.” 

 Jungkook turns, his brows furrowed. “Oh? Where are you staying then? Did you get your own room?” 

 This is embarrassing. How are you going to tell him that you tried, only to find out that every room was booked? There was no way you’d survive rooming with your mother, the Jeon’s were already occupied staying with Mari, which left only… 

 “I’m going to be staying with you.” You confidently assert, even if you shake with shame. You’re torn between being so overbearing he says yes, but also exercising basic manners. You’d be invading his space, and he has every right to say no…

 “If… if you’ll have me.” You continue, nerves so nauseating you end up rambling. “I know it’s sudden and you hate my guys and we never agree on anything, but I have no other choice considering all the rooms are booked, and I think I might explode if I share a room with my mom. So I’m really sorry, but my room is your room, and I think it might stay like that for the rest of this trip because I’d much rather deal with you than my mother who’s quite frankly soured my mood and I may end up—“

 “Hey, Y/N, it’s okay.” You find Jungkook chuckling, a fist covering his mouth. “Jheez, I didn’t know you ramble when you’re nervous. Guess the angry kitten can be cute sometimes.” 

 Opening and closing your mouth, Jungkook cuts you off before you can respond. 

 “Don’t worry, you’re good. After that brunch, I can understand not wanting to stay with your mother. Just know that staying with me means abiding by my rules.” He gorgeously smiles—you pout.

 “What? Are you gonna be an idiot who requests I walk around with little to no clothing and utilize every opportunity to throw our night together back in my face?” 

 Jungkook’s features immediately twist with disgust, appalled. “Y/N, what kind of people do you hang out with? Who the fuck would do that?” 

 You simmer, ugly memories resurfacing. “Some people would.” 

 Jungkook narrows his eyes at you. “I would never use an intimate moment we shared against you. Maybe to tease you, yes, but never to disrespect you. I wouldn’t exploit the vulnerability and trust you once showed me like that.” 

 You blanch, stunned by his words. You can’t help but find what he said… incredibly hot, now flaming with shame. Maybe you really are assuming too many things about Jungkook, writing him off as every other shitty man that exists in this world when he’s far from that—fuck. “I’m sorry. I… didn’t mean to make an assumption about you. That was totally unfair of me.” 

 Jungkook purses his lip with a nod, breathing out before he jerks his head down the hall. “C’mon, let’s get to our room so we can freshen up.” 

 Silently, you comply, following after him as he hauls your suitcase, and suddenly you’re very aware of the thick muscles that strain against his shirt as he works. He’s so big, you think, but also has a big brain, kind of a big heart, too, and it’s these tiny things about him that are stupidly captivating you. 

 So captivated, in fact, that you forget about him using the pronoun ‘ours’. 

  Afer settling into his room, you’re both rearranging and situation your belongings until a familiar, soothing voice disrupts the silence. 

 “Ah, sweetheart, there you are. Would you mind taking your sister out for a while? Your father and I will be out with Y/N’s mother and I wouldn’t want her to be left alone at the hotel.” Jungkook’s mother elegantly waltzes into his room, her eyes lightning up upon finding you organizing your luggage. 

 “Oh, Y/N is here as well? Will you two be sharing a room?” 

 You exchange a look with Jungkook, who eases you with a nod and redirects to his mother. “Yes, mom. But considering you and dad didn’t bother sharing this entire arrangement with me, I won’t be sharing why she’s here, either.” 

 Jungkook’s mother pouts, and now you’re aware where Jungkook inherited his pout from. “Don’t be angry with me, sweetheart. This was your father’s idea, and you know how he is.” 

 Jungkook bristles then, sighing. “What were you saying about Mari?” 

 “Please stay with her? Or perhaps take her out, she’s been excited to see all the jewelry stores here. She did her research.” 

 You watch Jungkook smile fondly and it’s hard to look away—for fuck’s sake. “Of course she did.” 

 Jungkook’s mother smiles, too. “You may take Y/N with you as well; you two should go sight-seeing. The Maldives are beautiful.” 

 Jungkook nods, shifting those stupidly big, round eyes in your direction. He extends his hand, tilting his head. “Wanna go out with me?” 

 At first, his words smack you in the face. It was absolutely unnecessary for him to ask so pleasantly, as though he would respect whatever your answer was. The entire gesture floors you, swallowing before you meekly place it in Jungkook’s warm, large palm. 

 “Yes, I’ll come.” 

  “Okay, oppa, at what point does it look stupid to be wearing lots of necklaces? More than three or five?” 

 Jungkook can’t help but laugh at his sister’s question, holding his chin as he contemplates. “Hmm, honestly, if you’re the one wearing the necklaces then will it ever look stupid?” 

 Mari’s cheeks turn magnificently red, shyly grinning ear-to-ear. “Okay, whatever you say.” 

 Jungkook happily smiles in return before cupping Mari’s cheek, stroking his thumb across before watching her confidently march along. 

 You, Jungkook, and Mari had found a quaint street bazaar that instantly caught Mari’s eye, the current leader of your stroll through the vibrant, lively shops and stalls. Owners bustle about as they tend to their customers, proudly showcasing their creations and more. Whether it was food or clothes or jewelry, the burst of culture and the people’s community fascinated you. 

 “Is that how you’re so stupidly charming with other women?” 

 “What?” 

 Hiding your giggle, you scrutinize Jungkook. “You’re good at giving your sister compliments, I wonder where the talent comes from?” 

 Catching your drift, Jungkook snorts as he continues walking, keeping a subtle eye on his sister’s small steps in front of him. “Please, I simply adore the lovelier half of our species. Anything wrong with that?” 

 His clever choice of words makes you roll your eyes. You lace your fingers behind your back as you continue to leisurely stroll next to him. It’s not until you peer downwards do you see that Jungkook’s matched his steps with yours, clearly walking much slower than his usual pace. 

 Is he doing that for you? Or for his sister? Definitely his sister. “You’re good with her, you know.” 

 Jungkook’s eyebrows furrow, glimpsing at you. “Come again?” 

 You snort, watching Mari’s bright eyes swallow up the world. “With your sister, you’re good with her. Your relationship is admirable.” 

 Jungkook suddenly appears flabbergasted, eyes popping wide open. “Wow, hold on a second.” He gestures before patting around for his phone, tugging it out of his pocket. “I need to record this date; Y/N Y/L/N just said something nice to me.” 

 You scoff at his exaggeration and impulsively punch him in the arm. You gasp once you register the force you used, palm cupped over your mouth. “Oh my God, I’m so sorry.” 

 Jungkook chuckles before hissing. “Watch it, kitten, or my little sister may end up tackling you for hitting me.” 

 Scoffing it off, you watch the youngest Jeon prance about as she scavenges the beautiful pieces of artwork before her. “You really mean the world to her, huh?” 

 “I hope so,” Jungkook shrugs, hands sliding into his pockets. “I was so excited when my parents told me they were having a kid. I’d been an only child for so long that I was over the moon when my sister was born.” 

 A sheet of warmth wraps itself around your chest, stunned by his transparency. It pleasantly shocks you to experience Jungkook’s openness; he doesn’t hide behind a mask nor manipulate his words and actions to achieve some toxic sense of accomplishment like everyone else in your world.

 He’s just so… him, and his eyes sparkle with an abundance of genuineness. 

 “I can relate; sometimes I feel like my little brother is a gift, honestly.” 

 Jungkook vehemently nods. “One hundred percent. Some people find it exhausting but I love being an older sibling. Even if the burden is too much sometimes, I’m just glad I can be there for her. I can be her older brother, her best friend, her role model; I’m somebody to her, you know?” 

 Something in Jungkook’s honest tone makes you consider a myriad of thoughts—who knew he could actually exhibit down-to-Earth qualities? “Agreed. Even if my little brother is a little shit who’s obsessed with video games and space and meme culture, he’s too precious to me.” 

 Jungkook snickers. “No way, your little brother is into video games?” 

 “Very, you should hear the kid in lobbies. He’s that smart ass that roasts people so intelligently they can’t even make up good comebacks.” You hide a giggle as you recall the one time Jihoon accused another kid of being a “good little proletariat”, and you’d been genuinely confused about when the fuck he purused Marxism. 

 “I fucking love that.” Jungkook laughs. “I’ve been into gaming ever since I could sit up properly and press buttons; we’d probably get along.” Jungkook leans in closer as he dodges a group of tourists, his chest suddenly brushing your shoulder, and every hair follicle on your upper body freezes. You’re immediately submerged in his cologne, scarily fine with drowning in his masculine scent. 

 His careful eyes closely monitor his little sister, too, and something about his attentiveness causes your heart to spasm. “What about your sister? What’s she into?” 

 “She adores theater,” Jungkook replies, hyper fixating on the pair of men walking in front of you. He suddenly cups your waist,  swiftly tugging you away from the rowdy men and into him. You gulp, his veiny hands snug around you as he leans down, lips brushing the crest of your ear. “Stay close, these streets are so crowded.” 

 Swallowing down an explosion of heat, you can’t even remember the conversation until he continues. “She was born for the spotlight; anything that has to do with music or singing or dancing, she loves. Especially music, she’s talented with the piano.” 

 Your eyes instantly light up. “Oh my God, she plays the piano? That’s amazing! I play—” You almost finish that sentence before rethinking it, a wave of sorrow washing over you. “I–um–I used to play the violin.” 

 Jungkook’s brows furrow, watching your face closely. “Used to? What happened?” 

 Holding his gaze suddenly feels suffocating, his scrutiny causing you to feel so small. He just can’t know all the baggage and trauma you come with, determined to seal it away. 

 You tear your eyes from him and instead find Mari fascinated by a basket of necklaces. Following your line of sight, Jungkook spots her as well and quickens his steps, cradling your hand. You nearly trip over yourself to match his speed. 

 You both find Mari waving at the pair of you, excitedly chirping. “Oppa! Oppa’s girlfriend! Look at this, I finally found a rose quartz necklace!” 

 Jungkook fondly smiles as he corrects his little sister, reminding her that you’re not his girlfriend, but his fianceé, and that you have a name she should respectfully use. She compliantly nods and continues on a long story concerning her search for a rose quartz stone, her face brighter than the sun as she rambles. 

 “You know, the rose quartz symbolizes love. It basically like, encourages love and trust and it’s so pretty and pink and I think it’s the prettiest stone ever! Don’t you think, Jungkookie oppa? Actually, if this is a stone about love, maybe you should give it to your fianceé.�� 

 Jungkook blanches, and his expression invokes a laugh out of you, snickering behind your fist. Jungkook clears his throat, tonguing his lip ring, his hand still searing into the small of your back… again. “But it’s the only one left and you’ve been looking for so long, Mari. You should keep it.” 

 Mari frowns all of a sudden, crossing her little arms. “But you have to get your fianceé a gift, oppa. You haven’t even gotten her a ring yet, you’re so mean!” 

 Jungkook comically smacks his forehead, shaking his head as you giggle. “Okay, fine. How’s about this? I’ll get Y/N noona a stone necklace as a gift right now for being my fianceé. The sound good?” 

“Yes!” Mari cheers, redirecting her attention to the other baskets at the jewelry stall in search of matching rose quartz earrings. Meanwhile, Jungkook awkwardly turns to you, sighing as he scrubs down the side of his face. 

 “Y/N,” he draws out, and something about your name on his tongue stupidly invigorates you. “Please don’t reject this gift, or my sister will scold me to death.” 

 Your mouth twitches as you contain your chuckles. “No worries, Mr. Jeon. Just don’t make it anything ugly.” 

 Nodding, Jungkook puffs out a breath as he begins scavenging the basket of stone necklaces, inspecting each one. 

 “Why don’t I choose so that it’s something I like?” You interject. “It would make it easier for you.” 

 “Um, no way.” Jungkook denies. “It’s not a gift if you choose it, now is it? No peeking.” He narrows his eyes at you before covering the table with his massive body, completely cutting you off from his selection process. 

 You roll your eyes as you decide to back off, watching Jungkook converse with the merchant. Your vision falls to Mari beside him, both siblings oddly moving with such similarity, it’s evident they’re brother and sister. 

 The only comical thing was how vastly different their sizes were; Mari, a dainty, fairy-like girl next to Jungkook; a male hunk of raw, thick muscle with dark tattoos and mischief entwined in his irises.

 To your dismay, your mind drifts to flashes of Jungkook from that night; his husky voice, his tantilizing lip ring, his dewy, coral mouth inches from yours. 

 Jungkook suddenly swivels around in your direction, carrying a small pouch—his lips deviously curve. “Why’ve you got that dreamy look on your face, kitten?”

 You groan loudly, shaking your head. “I was actually thinking about jumping you.” 

 “Itching to get on top of me, now are you?” 

 He playfully bounces his brows, irritation bubbling inside you. “Why are you looking at me like that, mongrel?” 

 He proudly puffs his chest. “Because, I chose the perfect gift.” 

 “Wanna tell me what it is?” 

 “Not yet,” his lips evilly curve. “Open it later.” 

 You narrow your eyes. “Are you trying to kill me with suspense?” 

 Jungkook sexily cocks a brow. “Something tells me you’re very used to having things your way. Time to meet your match, kitten.” 

 You dead-pan. “You’re such a little shit.” 

 “A little shit that happens to be your fiancé.” 

 “Ugh,” you groan, massaging your temple. “Please don’t remind me.” 

 Jungkook tips his head back as he laughs, stepping into your personal space. “Oh, trust me, kitten. I’m never letting you forget.” 

 Smacking your forehead this time, you look to the Almighty above. “Oh dear God, please help me survive this man.” 

 With his shoulder’s shaking, Jungkook’s so caught up in laughing at you that he barely registers Mari tugging on his shirt, her tone grave. 

 “Oppa, hurry up! We’re gonna be late for the horses. I don’t wanna be late for the horses!!”

 ———

 Your mouth is agape, practically glued to the floor as you stare, flabbergasted. “We’re gonna be riding horses?!” 

 Mari giggles as she bolts after a white stallion across the beach, beautifully sleek and quiet in her stance. Mari appears well-acquainted with the horse, the animal dipping its head to ease Mari’s reach in petting her. Her mother is just by her, also indulging in the animal’s wonder. 

 “Indeed, Y/N.” Jungkook’s father laughs as he approaches, watching his wife and daughter fondly before clapping Jungkook on the back. The volume of the slap indicates its force, causing Jungkook to minutely wincing—you’re not sure why it bothers you. “It’s a Jeon family tradition to go horseback-riding, isn’t it, son?” 

 You watch Jungkook fight back an eye roll. “Yes, dad.” 

 “Have you ever gone horseback-riding, Y/N?” His father asks. 

 “Never, Mr. Jeon.”

 “Aish, what’s with the title?” His father’s chest rumbles with a laugh. “You’re my future daughter-in-law, Y/N. No need for such formalities.” 

 Avoiding the urge to reject him, you politely smile. “Of course, father.” 

 “No worries about not having ridden a horse. This is one of the things my son’s actually good at.” His father says with a shining grin, but the underlying insult rubs you horribly. Jungkook’s jaw ticks tightly, grinding his teeth.

 You’ve never heard a parent speak about their own child in such a ghastly way. The entire brunch was shocking to you; you swear Jungkook’s father spent the majority of his time belittling Jungkook than he did eating. It irks you in an inexplicable way; especially the manner in which Jungkook seems used to the treatment. 

 It triggers slight empathy within you. 

 “I wouldn’t expect anything less.” You decide to say, unsure of why you defend Jungkook. 

 The smile that graces his dewy lips as a result sparks a sense of accomplishment, captivated when you meet his gaze. He’s as bright as the sun, and it’s now you notice that Jungkook has the cutest little mole right underneath his bottom lip. 

 How stupidly fucking cute. 

 “Well, Jungkook will be riding with you then, Y/N.” Jungkook’s father interrupts you two with a clearing of his throat. “You’ll be a Jeon soon, and it’s Jungkook’s responsibility to introduce you to our family traditions.” 

 You agree with him just so he can hear it, your curiosity shifting elsewhere. “Will my mother be joining us?” 

 “Ah, yes, she’s right—oh, there she is.” Jungkook’s father gestures towards a deep brown stallion your mother brushes the hair of, her vision surprisingly set on you. 

 Meeting her gaze still feels  raw right now, immediately turning away with an awkward swallow. “Great, why don’t you set us up on your horse, Jungkook?” 

 Jungkook furrows his brow for only a second before stepping aside, gesturing the way. You send him a grateful smile and proceed. He leads you towards a horse so gorgeous, she could’ve been made from stardust. Her sleek coat of fur is so spotless that an iridescent reflection radiated off of her—almost an ethereal, silvery purple beauty. 

 Captivated, you gape, reaching out your hand. “Oh my God, Jungkook, is this your horse? She looks like she was made from frickin’ stardust!” You don’t even think, caressing your palm across the soft fur—you gasp once you consider your impulsivity. “Wait, I’m so sorry I didn’t ask before touching her.” 

 Jungkook tilts his head with a curious little laugh, stepping towards the horse’s saddle. “You know, you say sorry for things you really don’t need to be sorry for.” 

 “I’m sorry—“ you get out before pursing your lips, hating yourself. 

 Jungkook giggles. “Her name’s actually Stardust ” He adds, reaching out his palm. “Come, pet her.” 

 Fitting your hand with his, Jungkook gently guides you to the sweet spot Stardust loves. You lightly stroke her, smiling widely once she whinnies. Jungkook watches you with something… warm in his eyes. You can’t quite place it, and when you meet his gaze, the hint of a grin on his lips nearly makes you believe he was watching with fondness. 

 How delusional of you. 

 “Let’s get on, yeah?” Jungkook asks. You send him a nod before he ensures the security of the saddle, adjusting it. The horse is ridiculously tall compared to you, awkwardly clearing your throat as you assess how exactly you’re getting onto the damn thing. 

 Large palms slip around your waist before you can act, jolting to find Jungkook gripping you. He hoists you up with little to no effort, a small yelp escaping you as you plop down on the horse's saddle. Jungkook easily mounts the horse too, settling in behind you. 

 This was a mistake. A big, fat mistake, because the second Jungkook shoves his thick, muscular frame against your back, every respectable part of you screams to unleash your inner whore. You didn’t realize how small you are compared to Jungkook, and when he connects his crotch against your ass, nothing is saving you. 

 Your breath hitches, swallowing away your raging hormones. His stupid cologne envelopes you, eyes nearly rolling back at his delicious scent. His arms cocoon you as he reaches for the horse’s rope. You’re doomed, you think, because his face now leans over your shoulder too, nearly cheek to cheek. 

 “Hold on,” he says in your ear—every joint in your body melts. 

 Jungkook thwacks the reigns and off you go, exclaiming when the shockwaves of each gallop hits you. You struggle to steady yourself as Jungkook masterfully guides the horse on the beach.

 “Press your back into me,” he advises, his breath tantalizing to your skin. “Or you’ll end up with back pain and I’ll have to massage it out.” 

 Throwing a dirty look over your shoulder, you scooch a little further back, now completely flush with Jungkook’s broad chest. His warmth engulfs you first, the very presence of him behind burning into your spine. His hard arms around you only feed your delusions, the safety you felt with him a concoction of your sickest fantasies. 

 Jungkook protecting you? Sounds like the punchline of a joke. 

 “Does your dad always talk to you like that?” 

 “What?” 

 “Your dad,” you clarify, attempting to piece this query together before the idea of his sizable crotch buries a home in you. “Has he always spoken to you like that?” 

 Jungkook, surprisingly, laughs, but it’s a dark and dry one, entirely void of amusement. “Wow, you’ve only known me two days and you’ve already noticed.” 

 You remain quiet, letting the gears in his mind shift. You enjoy the breeze kissing your skin, the scent of the sea calming you. 

 “Yes, to answer your questions. He always speaks to me like that.” Jungkook bristles, his arms closing tighter around you. “Why do you ask?” 

 “Because…” You pause, shuffling through appropriate words. 

 “Because my dad patronizes the fuck out of me?” 

 You wince. “Yeah, that.” 

 Jungkook swallows hard enough that you hear it, followed by a tight, yet notable sigh. “Don’t worry about it. It’s normal.” 

 You narrow your eyes. “I’m not worried, asshat. It’s just an observation I made.” 

 Jungkook quirks a brow before scrutinizing you. “Really? You’re not worried about me? Your angry little kitten pout is giving you away.” 

 Scoffing, the back of your hand lightly hits his chest behind you. Jungkook exaggerates the pain and reacts as though it were a gunshot, causing you to thwack him again. “Fuck you, you self-absorbed bastard. It’s just unusual.” 

 Jungkook stifles a laugh before his chest stops rumbling, his shoulders rather drooping. His demeanour abruptly shifts, now harder than stone. “He’s been like that since the day I was born.” 

 You don’t mean to, but you peer up at Jungkook once you hear those words. The melancholic tone sounds nothing like the Jungkook you’ve met. Rambunctious, devil-may-care and oozing sarcasm—all those traits seem to have suddenly belonged to another person. 

 Having moved slightly up the horse during its gallops, you nestle your ass back in between his thunderous thighs. Your nipples harden once you’re flush against him again, his embrace still disorienting. “That’s… jarring.” 

 “Quite.” He contends. “But like I said, it’s normal. Once you hear it enough you get used to it.” 

 But you shouldn’t have to, you think. You’re unsure why, but something about this bothers you. “You shouldn’t have to get used to it, though. It’s not really fair.” 

 Jungkook pensively exhales as he shortens the reign, his vision zeroing on you. He inspects you carefully, tongue toying with his lip ring… again. “What about you? Does your mother always speak to you like that?” 

 “Like what?” 

 “You know what.” Jungkook knowingly eyes you. His scrutiny ignites something within you, those mocha-brown eyes swirling with curiosity, stirring up something in your chest. Fuck. 

 “She’s… a character.” You manage. “We’re complicated.” 

 “Wow,” Jungkook marvels. “So descriptive.” 

 Elbowing him, Jungkook feigns another exclamation of pain. You scoff it off while a stunning smile plasters onto his face, nearly blinding you. You opt to turn away and focus on the beauty of the ocean instead. 

 You didn’t notice when, but somewhere along the line you started leaning against Jungkook’s chest as though he were a seat. Unconsciously, you scooted back often, the momentum of the horses strolling sending you backwards. 

 Shuffling, your ass meets his crotch, and the mere contact spins a web of delicious fantasies in your head. You’re close to reprimanding yourself before you hear Jungkook stifle a sound behind you. Off your rocker, your effect on him excites you, daring to repeat the action. 

 Wiggling inconspicuously, you’re graciously met by an audible, forced puff of air through his nose. 

 Oh, now this is interesting.

 With an evil grin on your face, you position yourself quite scandalously on the horse; hands gripping in front of you as you slightly lean forward, ass pressed tight against him. The action perfectly sets it up for Jungkook’s clothed cock to practically dry-fuck you, the sounds of Jungkook’s frustration evident behind you. 

 You peek over your shoulder, mischief swirling in your irises. “Hmm, this feels very familiar. I wonder why.” 

 Jungkook grits his teeth, purposefully tugging the reins for the horse to speed up, away from the rest of your families. His expression hardens with frustration when he regards you, clearing his throat. “Your ass is already wedged between my thighs, Y/N; stop moving.” 

 “Like what?” You feign oblivion, shuffling your ass so far back you’re nearly sitting on his cock. Jungkook lets out a low grunt, breathing through the arousal you no doubt spark in him. His once doe eyes darken, his jaw clenched tightly. 

 “You know what.” He grits, his large hand cupping your thigh and squeezing it. You slightly yelp, stupidly turned on by the action, only heightened when his lips brush your ear. “Funny how you chose this position; when I had you bent over and all you could do was moan my name.”

 Shivers crawl along your spine, arousal swirling in your nether regions. You immediately straighten your back, but quickly remember the advantage you have. You shove your back flush against his front and push your arms together in front of you, emphasizing the cleavage he has a 4K view of. “Because I know you’re dying to do it again.” 

 Jungkook breathes out a laugh, curling his arm around your frame and tugging you so impossibly close, you could’ve been one body. “Sure you’re not speaking for yourself, kitten?” 

 You scoff. “Very; you’re the one with a hard dick.” 

 “And you’re the one with perky nipples.” He counters, his voice dropping an octave. “And I bet if I slipped inside your panties right now, I’d find you wetter than Lake Superior.” 

 Appalled, you smack his cradling arm with a gasp, causing Jungkook to erupt into hearty laughter. The sound is unfairly rich and sweet, confusing your hormones and brain and heart all at once. 

 “I’m surprised you even know what Lake Superior is.” You grumble, causing Jungkook to cock a brow. 

 “Trust me, kitten,” his dulcet cadence ignites you. “I’m full of surprises.” 

 Winded, you can’t help but scoff through a laugh as you give it up, knowing damn well there’s no end to challenging him.

 “Dad, dad! Answer me!” 

 Your ears are blaring with an incessant buzzing, the taste of blood staining your tongue. A sharp pain is constantly jabbing your right wrist, unable to move it. Tears spill down your cheeks, horror seeping into every bone in your body. 

 “Dad, please, please! Just answer me!” 

 You stare at his figure next to you, unsure of his condition. Your world is entirely upside down, the very axis of your understanding flipped. Mirrored. As though you aren’t even in your own dimension, but in an alternate universe where this terrible, terrible thing is happening to you. 

 It can’t be real. It simply can’t. There is no way there’s a large piece of metal sticking out of your father’s chest cavity. There’s just no way. 

 “Dad, wake up. Wake up wake up wake up!” You wail, anger overcoming your body. Your dad is fine, he’s fine, so why isn’t he answering? Why do you hear sirens and the clambering of people? This isn’t real, this isn’t happening, and everything is going to be absolutely fine. 

 So you scream, you scream and you scream because you surmise it’s the only way out of this hell. Because screaming this loud is making you believe that you’ll wake up soon, that the litres of blood dripping out of your father are merely an illusion, that you’re simply dreaming.

 “Daddy, dad! Open your eyes, open your eyes, please! PLEASE!” 

 “You’re fine, you’re fine!”

 “Wake up, fucking WAKE UP!!”

 A hazardous gasp wakes you, vomit nearly crawling up your esophagus. You bracket your throat as you resupply your lungs with oxygen, eyes stinging with tears. 

 Your heart thunders against your ribs, anxiety spinning a network of pain and agony within your chest. Your breathing is choppy, hyperventilating as the memories fire into your brain in rapid succession. 

 One plus one is two. Two plus two is four. Three plus three is six. Four plus four is eight. Five plus five is ten. Numbers are real, you are real, the bed underneath you is real, the duvet on your body is real. 

 The flashbacks in your head are not real. 

 You swipe away the tears that betray you, refusing to let your trauma take you, to hold you captive like it has for months now. 

 Your attention drifts to your pillow, blankly staring at it as you attempt to level your breathing. Swallowing, you feel exhausted, your mind recovering from the emotional abuse of that horrible nightmare. 

 Your head’s been frantic all day as it stupidly replayed traumatic flashbacks on a loop ever since your disastrous brunch. Your heart still pounds thinking about it, nestling your palm over your chest and rubbing to alleviate the stress. 

 Exhaling slowly, you force yourself to focus on the present, today’s events filtering into your headspace. 

 And for some fucking reason, the common denominator of your thoughts ends up being Jungkook. 

 Not the more pressing issues like your invasive mother or your malicious PTSD, but Jeon fucking Jungkook. You couldn’t forget what he said to you earlier today, your mind involuntarily brewing. ‘Trust me, kitten. I’m full of surprises.’ 

 What other surprises could he have to offer? What more lies beneath Jungkook’s facade of easy-going sarcasm with a splash of ‘I’m-a-gigantic-asshole?’ Your dreary eyes shift over to the man across the room, his broad, muscly back bared to you as he sleeps soundlessly in his separate bed. 

 You’d battled every hormone in your body as you were forced to watch him get ready for bed earlier, your stupid cunt purring with need. You guess one of the many surprises Jungkook has to offer is that he’s meticulous about his routines; skincare, vitamins, even neatly folding his clothes. 

 His attitude crafted the misconception that he was a slob; a tornado of devil-may-care and unaccountability that always left a mess in his wake. Watching him was a slap in the face, reminding you that again, perhaps Jungkook was right. 

 You have to take the time to know him before making assumptions. 

 But making assumptions just felt safer. You’d spent your entire life making assumptions about people because it was simply easier to safe-guard yourself that way; expect the worst so you’re already prepared for when they eventually hurt you. 

 Yes, it’s unfair to the people you meet, but you’d rather do that than have your heart trampled over. It’s already gone through enough. 

 The image of Jungkook’s shirtless body flashes in your mind when it wanders, causing you to snap yourself out of it. You cast away your duvet and breathe out, anxiety still lingering within your body. Every vessel is starting to scream at you, begging for some form of relief from your constant turmoil.

 Huffing out, you slide your chilly feet into your slippers and take off faster than you can breathe, desperate for some air. You shuffle around just enough to find the grand balcony at the end of your corridor, luxurious and happily empty. 

 Throwing open the doors, you take a long, steady breath, allowing fresh air to saturate your lungs, to cleanse your mind. Your distress begins to melt upon the sound of waves, focusing on the beautiful sights the Maldives has to offer. 

 Your arms swing over the railing as you allow yourself some peace, the blissful sounds of the lapping water and rustling trees transporting you to a place of tranquility, the breeze caressing your skin like an old friend comforting you.

 It’s the most zen you’ve felt since embarking on this trip. 

 “Can’t sleep?”

 You freeze at the characteristically steely voice, recognizing that cadence anywhere. What prompted your mother to approach you and speak to you normally is beyond you, focusing on the resort instead. 

 “Bidulgi, you can’t ignore me the rest of this trip.” She coos, her voice gaining volume—you shrink at the idea of her approaching you. 

 “Actually, I think I can.” You retort. “If you can ignore respecting me, I think I can ignore you.” 

 You hear your mother sigh, rolling your eyes in response. “Y/N, I had my reasons, alright? You know if I told you the truth behind this trip, you wouldn’t have agreed. And I couldn’t–” 

 “No, mom. You don’t know that. You don’t know that because you never even asked me, and that’s the shittiest part.” Your voice stupidly cracks, swallowing your emotions before they explode.

 “Y/N, even if I did tell you I know you’d turn down the trip. You’re my daughter, I know you and I know you wouldn’t have budged.” 

 Your fists clench so hard you might cut yourself. “Even if I did or didn’t, you can’t just do this, mom.” You press. “You can’t walk around and dictate my life without consulting me first. You’ve done it my entire fucking life and I’m tired of it!” 

 “Watch your tone, dear. We can have a rational adult conversation ” 

 Your blood begins to boil, scoffing. “Oh please, there you go again; rejecting any emotions like they’re the damn plague. Well guess what, mom, I’m angry! And upset!” 

 “Be logical, Y/N.” Your mother admonishes. “What’s so upsetting about marrying a handsome, rich heir who’s set to become the CEO of one of Korea’s largest gaming companies? What is so horrible that you’re acting this way?” 

 “Because I don’t know him, mom.” You plead with her. “I barely know this man and you want me to, what, vow to be with him in sickness and in health? Till death do us part?”

 “Yes, Y/N. Because I never want you to settle for less.” Your mother reasons, approaching you carefully. “I want your husband to be the best man possible, and I know the Jeons’ son can be that man. He’s powerful and will be able to provide for you and your future family.” 

 “Stop it, mom.” You grit, retreating from her in near disgust. “Why do you keep emphasizing his power and wealth? Why do you keep assuming those are things I even want?” 

 Your mother hesitates then, opening her mouth only to seal it shut. She seems to consider her words, redressing, rethinking them, and that’s when you uncover the truth. 

 She trips up on her words only when she’s hiding something. “God, there’s a fucking deal in this, isn’t there? You’re getting something out of marrying us?��� Your tone heightens in disbelief, betrayal etched into your features. 

 Your mother winces, guilt seeping into her eyes. “Dear, please. You know what happened to your father has set back the firm. We’ve been trying to handle his clients but they’re dropping like flies without him. I needed to sign someone who could secure–” 

 “Jesus fucking Christ. So you gave away my hand in marriage for the Jeon’s to become your fucking clients?!”

 “Y/N, I—“

 “Wow,” you huff, dry laughs attacking you. “Un-fucking-believable. You’re actually unbelievable.”

 “Y/N, please.” Your mother reaches out for your hand.

 “No, mom.” You physically reject her, tears welling up in your eyes as you stare at a complete stranger. You feel like you don’t know this woman anymore; a shadow of one you used to know. 

 “The worst…” You choke, swallowing down your rampant emotion. “The worst part is that you could’ve just told me, mom. Could’ve looped me in and I would’ve helped you acquire clients anyway. But you always do this; you always operate on your own accord without anyone else’s input. And you know what, mom? I’m tired of it. Sick and tired.” 

A weighty silence intensifies the air, suffocating you. Your mother’s disparaged expression causes you to look away, not allowing yourself to feel any remorse. She can’t deserve it, not after this, not after that brunch, and especially not after the accident…

 “Dad would’ve never done this to me.” You softly remark, feeling your connection sever in that very moment—an irrevocable break. Sniffling, you carry yourself out of her vicinity, disappearing down the corridor you emerged from. 

  You shut the door using your back, breaths coming out of you like a raging storm. You clutch your hand to your chest, poorly attempting to level your racing heart. 

 Nothing calming crosses your mind, contempt, fury, utter anger tainting every ounce of you. You stomp over to your bed, ready to break out into a tantrum, but recalling that Jungkook lays fast asleep in the bed just a few feet from you. 

 The sight of him causes you to be more mindful of your emotions, plopping down on your bed and tossing the covers over yourself. You curl into a tight, unyielding ball, scrunching the duvet between your palms as tears silently escape your eyes; tired of your emotions, tired of your mother, tired of it all. 

 In your fit of tears, you end up fixating on a small dark grey box sitting on your night table, raking your brain for what it could be. 

 Curious, you reach out and sit up to inspect the box. You find the etching that indicates the shop you, Jungkook, and Mari visited earlier in the day, causing a small smile to paint your lips. Wiping your tears from your face, you life the lid of the box, remembering Jungkook specifically chose a stone necklace for you. 

 Unearthing the necklace, you find an amethyst at its center, the gorgeous purple stone gently shimmering under the moonlight. You bite back a smile, admiring its natural lustre. 

 You find a note under the necklace, remembering that Mari mentioned stones each having their own meaning. Turning over the small card, an appreciative smile spreads across your face as you peek over at Jungkook’s slumbering body, the meaning echoing in your mind. 

 ‘Healing’.

[kimtaegis]

he’s everything

[jeonqkooks]

our beloved summer | jjk (7.5) (m.)

You made a vow to hate Jeon Jungkook ever since he packed up and left you without a single explanation, but when he shows up at your door after years of radio silence, it turns out that maybe your resolve isn’t as strong as you thought.

pairing: producer!jungkook x songwriter!reader rating: 18+ (minors dni) genres/warnings: exes au, fluff, Angst, smut; THE REASON™️, crying because obviously there's gonna be crying, mentions of hobi leaving :(, cursing, uhm she hits him; kissing (well, of course 😂), br*ast play, t*tty s*cking, oral s*x (f. receiving), f*ngering, unprotected s*x, r*ding, cr*ampie, uhm idk i think that's it word count: 6.9k (poetic, i know) note (1): holy fucking shit i am literally shaking like a chihuahua as i'm writing this a/n. what the hell it's finally here. we've been waiting for this for almost a year and a half. TREMENDOUS thanks to Jo @daechwitatamic, Ari @wintaerbaer, and Jazz @jeonwiixard for beta-ing this for me and for reassuring me that it's not a load of crap (probably) and especially Jo for telling me if i back out she'll come kick me. frick! gaaaah. okay i'm gonna let you read or i'll go out of my mind

series masterpost / playlist ; moodboards ; taglist

as always, i���d appreciate any thoughts or comments you may have, and please drop a like and/or reblog if you enjoy reading ♡

I want you to smile, to feel like enough 'Cause you deserve yellow and lions and love I hope you come back when you're doing well Forgive me for being the worst of myself

New Recording 28 - Chelsea Cutler

The second the door is closed, his mouth is on yours again. 

His hand on your waist, yours in his hair, it’s similar to how it was mere minutes ago, just the urgency has increased tenfold. You want his suit off as much as you want your dress on the floor.

Jungkook detaches from your lips to let you breathe as he cages you between his body and the door, but it’s not like you can focus very well on breathing when he starts kissing down your neck, sucking bruises into your skin. His hands travel south, one palm curving around your hips to grope your ass, the other settling on the back of your thigh to lift it up, opening your legs wider so he could better slot in between them. With your leg lifted, it makes the slit in your dress ride up, exposing your core to the cool air of the room. You can feel his growing bulge pressed against you, right over your panties. 

You whimper his name when he sucks on the sweet spot on your neck, his hips grinding against you slowly.

“Yeah?” You can hear the smirk in that one simple word and the honey that drips from his voice. “What is it?”

“Want you…”

“I’m right here,” Jungkook says. His slender fingers rub you over the pink lace that you’re wearing underneath your dress, teasing your opening through the fabric for a few beats before he pushes your panties aside. “Fuck, you’re so wet.”

His breath is hot on your neck. He presses his lips against your skin absentmindedly, the tip of his index circling you but not pushing inside just yet.

“Tell me you want me too,” you pant, your arm hooking around his neck to hold him close.

“I want you.”

Truth.

You pull him in for another bruising kiss before you blindly push him further into the room, your hands roaming the broad expanse of his clothed chest. He stops when the back of his knees hit the bed.

“Hey.” Jungkook breaks away from the kiss to look at you. “Are you sure?”

If Jimin knew what you’re doing right now, he’d say that you have zero self preservation instincts.

He’d be right, though. If you had any self preservation instincts, you wouldn’t be doing this.

Your stupid, battered heart has only ever wanted him.

“I’m sure,” comes your immediate reply. It’s desperate, but you don’t have it in yourself to even care. “I’m sure. I want this. Please.”

“You were drinking.”

“I’m not drunk. I promise.”

Maybe it’d be better if you were drunk. Then you could at least blame this lapse of judgment on a pathetic state of inebriation and not on your stupid self who’s always weak for him.

He stares at you for a minute, searching for any sign of your willingness being driven by alcohol. He seems relieved when he finds none, and it isn’t until then that he shrugs off his jacket, before helping you take off his dress shirt and trousers.

You haven’t seen him like this in so long.

Every defined line on his body, accentuating every detail that you could spend hours running your fingers over.

He looks different but at the same time, not really. A tad more muscular, but still the same lean frame. Hard chest and abs on full display for you. God, your fingers are fucking twitching with the need to touch him.

Once he’s been stripped down to his boxers, he leans down to kiss you before you stop him with a hand on his chest. The lone tiger lily on his arm catches your attention.

Your fingers reach out to trace the black ink on his body, the lines delicate, your touch feather light. You’re suddenly curious. When did he get it? You can’t remember if you two ever talked about getting tattoos.

“What does it mean?” you ask. It strikes you with the realization that this is just one of the thousands of things that you missed, a reminder of your lost time. 

“Please love me,” he says, bringing his hands up to cup your face. He looks at you, just for a few seconds, before clarifying, “It means ‘Please love me,’” then kissing you again.

Jungkook clumsily and blindly searches for the dress’ zipper on your back, giving it a few impatient tugs until it finally starts gliding down your body. Your lips never part from one another as the dress falls to the floor, pooling at your feet. But once you step out of it, he does pull back to look at you from head to toe. His eyes fall to your chest, clad in a lacy pink bra that matches your panties. The look he gives you is the same one that he did when he saw you in your dress earlier today. But there’s something else in his eyes - realization, pride, perhaps a question too.

His hands are back on your body instantly, throwing you onto the bed, crawling over you like a predator. He discards your bra with ease, flinging it to the floor with the rest of your clothes. You shiver when the chilly air meets your bare chest, but the sensation quickly goes away when he takes your breast into his warm mouth. You let out a delighted sigh, arching your back to push yourself further into him as his tongue flicks over your stiff nipple. One of his hands comes up to squeeze your other breast to make sure that it isn’t neglected, rolling your pebbled bud between his thumb and forefinger. He switches to sucking your other tit after a while, then pawing at the one he just had in his mouth.

“Jungkook,” you whine his name when he makes out with your tits for too long, because there’s somewhere else that desperately requires his immediate attention. “Need you…”

He releases your nipple with a wet pop, and he looks pleased with himself when he sees that they’re thoroughly glistening with his spit. “Sorry,” he says with a chuckle. “Didn’t mean to keep you waiting.” He starts making his way down your body, kissing every inch of your skin that’s on display for him, before you put a hand on his shoulder when his face gets close to your thighs.

“What are you doing?”

He looks up at you as his fingers ghost over the fabric of your panties. “Can I?”

You lick your lips, contemplating whether or not you have the patience to wait for him. But alas, you decide, “Okay.”

Jungkook makes quick work of sliding your underwear down your legs and letting it join the pile on the floor. Even in the dim light, he can see just how wet you are, practically glittering with arousal, looking so utterly inviting that it makes his mouth water. All of this, just for him.

He doesn’t waste another second, diving right into you to lick a stripe up your dripping folds. Swiftly burying two fingers into your heat, he doesn’t stop until he’s knuckles deep. Your lips part in a silent but delighted moan. You forgot how good he used to make you feel. Your fingers could never feel as good as his, not thick enough to stretch yourself open and not long enough to reach deep inside of you.

“Fuck,” you drawl, your eyes fluttering shut when the tip of his tongue meets your throbbing clit, teasing it until you’re practically grinding against his face. You thread a hand into his hair, gripping his dark locks until he’s groaning, sending blissful vibrations all throughout your body. The figure 8’s that his tongue draws on your clit sets you alight, sends you into a whole other dimension completely as pleasure courses through your veins. 

“So good,” he mumbles. To you? To himself? You can’t tell, but that doesn’t really matter. “Still so good.”

You hear it, just how soaked you are, as he begins thrusting his digits in and out of you. He strokes your walls delicately with each press of his fingers, scissoring you open for what you know is to come. 

His tongue dips into your entrance then, teases your dripping hole as you pant heavily, 

Your legs close in on his head as the orgasm nears, but he keeps your thighs apart, firmly holding them open as he makes you unravel.

This is fucking unreal - Jungkook with his whole face tucked between your legs, desperate to make you come with his talented mouth. You never would have anticipated this when you woke up this morning.

No, just a while ago you were crying by yourself down at the beach. Now you’re crying out his name as he smothers himself in you.

Once he starts curling them inside of you, it’s embarrassing how fast you come. You clench hard around his fingers as the orgasm washes over you, dripping down his fingers and he uses the added wetness to carry you through the high.

“Jungkook…” you whimper, sounding completely fucked out even though it’s only just beginning. After a while, the heightened pleasure fades into the background, and he presses soft kisses against your inner thigh.

He crawls his way up your body until he’s facing you again. You watch his fingers and the way they’re coated in your juices, wondering what he’ll do with them next. Jungkook languidly smears the wetness all over your lips like he’s carefully painting them, only to kiss you afterward. When you moan against him, he takes the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth. Your hand finds its way into his boxers then, wrapping your fingers around his hardened length, pumping him in your fist until he’s shallowly rutting against you.

The kiss gets broken when he suddenly pulls away, realization dawning on him. “Shit,” he exclaims. “I don’t have a condom.”

“Oh.” You blink at him, then you both just look at each other for a while. This isn’t a problem with no solution, even if the solution is a disastrous one in hindsight. You just want him, so badly that you can’t think of anything else.

He waits for you, doesn’t dare say anything else until you do.

Yet again, the opportunity presents itself for you to stop.

But you’ve already gone this far, and though it’s damn near impossible, you want him even more than you did before.

“Are you clean?” you ask.

It’s evident that he’s surprised by the way his eyes widen, and his silence that follows for the next half a minute. “Yeah,” he tells you.

“Okay. Then we don’t need a condom.”

He says your name once, his fingers brushing your hair away from your face sweetly. You always did like your name best when it used to fall from his lips so softly. “Are you sure?” he asks.

“I’m sure. I promise.”

Jungkook sucks in a breath, like he’s steadying himself, before he rids himself of the remaining piece of clothing on his body, then settles between your legs again. This time, his cock rests directly on your bare pussy. The anticipation makes it harder for you to breathe, makes you squeeze your thighs around his waist to not let him leave.

“How long has it been?”

Your answer is vague. “Too long,” you say. You don’t want to tell him that there’s been no one else since him, but you have a feeling that he understands it anyway. You think that he’d be pleased with your answer, that maybe it would boost his ego in a way, but there’s only a certain sadness that settles in his eyes. 

“Okay.” Regardless, he pushes past the sudden gloom that befalls his features, blinking away the disheartenment swimming in his irises, to align himself with your entrance. He rubs his cock against your pussy to coat you in his precum, even though you yourself are certainly more than wet enough for him to slide home easily. “Ready?”

“Yes,” you confirm, bracing your hands on his shoulders as he eases the tip into you, making the both of you moan at the contact. You feel him, all of him.

For a second, you wonder if he has ever forgone protection with anyone else, or if it’s only ever been just you.

Jungkook takes one of your hands off his shoulder to lay it flat on the bed next to your head, lacing your fingers together, giving your hand a slight squeeze. “Breathe. You can do it.”

“Give me a minute.”

“We’ve got time,” he says, his voice smooth like velvet.

“Can you kiss me?” you ask, almost like you’re shy even though he’s balls deep inside of you.

He chuckles lightly, so endeared by you and your silly question.

His lips meet yours sweetly, like doing so would help make the stretch less painful. Maybe it does, at least a little bit. 

You can feel his cock throbbing inside of you, and he’s probably trying so hard to hold back, but he keeps kissing you nonetheless.

“You can move,” you say after a while.

“I’ll go slow, okay?”

“Okay.”

He rears his hips back, slowly, then thrusts forward again. You whimper from the slight burn, but it’s nothing you can’t handle. His movements are gentle for the next couple of minutes or so, and it isn’t until you start opening up more that he sets a steadier pace. Even when he starts to fuck you faster, one of his hands is still on your hips, rubbing your skin soothingly. 

“Fuck,” Jungkook grunts out, followed by a sigh of your name as he pumps into your cunt, every ridge and vein of his cock dragging deliciously in and out of your walls. “You feel so good.”

He gazes down at you as he moves, and there’s just something so intimate about it that it makes you want to cry again.

You know what it’s like to have him fuck you, and this isn’t it.

No, this is something else entirely.

I love you, you think. I love you so fucking much.

“Missed you.” His words come out hushed, caught in half a moan, half a whimper. “Missed you so fucking much.”

“Did you think about me?”

“Always,” he says, without even missing a beat.

“No,” you clarify. “When you were sleeping with other people, did you think about me?”

“I only thought about you.” His hips stutter as he tells you this, like he’s confessing to something that he shouldn’t. “I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

You never admitted this to anyone, not even Taehyung even though he probably sensed it, but you used to feel like you could be physically sick just looking at the photos on his feed every time you’d lurk on a drunken night. They were never flashy, just subtle enough for you to know that there was someone. It made you nauseous, because the place next to him was always supposed to be yours.

You just stare at him, not knowing how to process this bit of information. Sure, it’s an ego boost. There’s some pride in knowing that you were the one on his mind even if you weren’t together.

He’s so utterly gorgeous like this that you can’t form a single coherent thought, too lost in the way his eyes bore into yours and in the blossoming warmth that spreads all over your chest from hearing his words.

How did he manage to get even more beautiful? Sculpted by the gods. The standard for all men.

“What is it?” he asks when you stare at him for too long.

“I…” You blink away the daze. “I wanna be on top.”

“Okay.”

Jungkook slips out of you just long enough to get seated with his back against the headboard and pull you into his lap. You hover over him, letting his tip rub against your dripping hole for a moment before you sink onto him. You tip your head back and sigh as you envelope him fully again, the only difference is that you can feel him so much deeper like this.

He grabs your ass with both hands, kneading your skin as he helps you ride him. The sounds that you make together are downright obscene, bouncing off the walls, ringing in your ears.

“Harder,” you tell him shakily. “Don’t wanna hurt you.”

“I want it to hurt,” you say, holding onto him like you’re bracing for impact, because you know he’ll give you what you want. “Make it hurt.”

Jungkook sighs once, then digs his heels into the mattress to steady himself before his hips go wild, thrusting into you with such force that it nearly has you sobbing, your head falling onto his shoulder. It makes you burn with pleasure, like a star before it becomes a supernova. When the tension starts building quickly, you can’t help but slam your hips down harder to meet his thrusts, to chase that high.

You press your lips against his skin, any spot you could find - his jaw, his neck, his shoulder. “Tell me you love me.”

The words are ready on the tip of his tongue, like he’s been waiting for an opportunity to say it. He doesn’t miss a single beat as he tells you, “I love you.”

“Mean it.”

“I do mean it. I love you.”

Truth.

For some sick and twisted reason, his words send you crashing over the edge, falling into that abyss of pleasure that you’ve been searching for. You say his name, over and over again, like you’re making up for all the years that he wasn’t around to hear it.

Your walls convulse wildly around him as you cry out, your toes curling, your thighs shaking. He holds you close, thrusting into you through your orgasm until you’re dizzy, like you could actually pass out from the overwhelming bliss.

“I’m close,” he tells you in a raspy voice.

You catch your breath long enough to say, “Come for me.”

“Where do you want it?”

“Inside,” you say without much thought. If you were in a clearer state of mind, you would know that it’s reckless and stupid. You’re not on birth control, and if anything were to happen, you would have no one to blame but yourself.

But you aren’t in a clear state of mind, and maybe this is even more dangerous than if you were fueled by alcohol. At least you can sober up from alcohol.

You just want him so badly that rationality seems like a luxury you can’t afford right now.

“Y/N,” he whispers shakily, though there’s a warning edge to his voice that you understand.

“I want you to come inside me. I want it. I want it so bad. Please.”

Jungkook groans at your answer. 

He doesn’t ask you to look at him, instead choosing to hide his face against your neck where you feel something wet glide down your skin as he grips your hips. It’s followed by a sniffle, and hands that hold onto you like you’re a lifeline. 

He’s crying, and that breaks your fucking heart.

You don’t know what to do. Part of you wants to tilt his chin up to look at you, because it feels strange without his tender gaze on you, but you decide against it even though the tips of your fingers tingle with the need to do so. 

Your walls clench with purpose, squeezing around him, trying to help you get there. It’s not that long before you hear your name falling from his lips in a choked out moan, so needy and beautiful and makes you nostalgic. He empties himself inside of you, making you shudder from the sudden warmth that he paints along your walls.

You stay in the same position for a few more minutes until your chest is no longer heaving with exhaustion and euphoria. He gently pulls you off his lap to lay you down on the bed, pressing an apologetic kiss against your bare shoulder when you wince from the oversensitivity, from any kind of movement at all. 

When he moves to throw on his boxers and goes to stand up, you reach for him. “Where are you going?” You instantly feel pathetic for asking.

He pauses, then squeezes your hand as that sadness from before makes an appearance in his eyes again. “I’m just going to the bathroom,” he tells you, his voice quiet.

The relief on your face must be visible. “Okay,” you say. Rationally, you know he probably wouldn’t fuck you and leave you the second the deed is done. But again, rationality is a luxury at the moment.

Jungkook returns a couple of minutes later with a warm cloth, and dabs it between your legs to clean you up. You grimace when he touches you there, evidently sore already from the activities you just engaged in.

“Sorry,” he’s quick to say, though it isn’t really his fault. Or maybe it is his fault. You’re not sure if that even matters.

When he’s done, he gets under the covers with you. “Come here,” he says, then shuffles your body closer to his until he’s holding you with his hands on your bare waist. He leans down to kiss you, and you let him. God, you feel like you’re fucking melting.

It’s different from the kiss down at the beach, and it’s different from the needy ones you shared in the past hour. It’s soft and slow and easy, like there’s nothing for you to worry your pretty little head about.

Jungkook breaks away eventually, and rests his forehead against yours then. One of his hands on your waist slides up to your ribs, until his thumb could brush the underside of your breast. The touch is gentle, sweet, completely innocent.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispers. He means everything he tells you. “You’re perfect.”

You even blush, like you’re a stupid lovesick teenager. “Tell me,” you say.

“Anything.”

You reckon it’s self-indulgent at this point. You’re only asking to feel better about your place in his life, or rather, the place that used to be yours.

“Tell me you can’t live without me.”

He nudges his nose against yours. No hesitation. “I can’t live without you.”

Truth. You know it’s the truth.

Nonetheless… “Liar.” Your tone is soft. There’s no bite at all. You touch his face, trying to commit to memory every detail, how his soft skin feels under your touch as if it’s the last time you’ll ever get to see him like this. Maybe it is. You never got to have a last time with him, never got to know that it was ending before it already ended. You’re not thinking about the morning because you don’t want to, but the seed of anxiety is there in your belly. Your fingers trace his jawline as you say, “You lived without me. You were doing fine without me.”

His lips ghost over your cheek. “It wasn’t much of a life,” he says. “I couldn’t bear it without you.”

The thing is, you know that he’s being honest. And it should make you feel good that you affected him as much as he affected you.

But then… it keeps leading you back to that question. The question that you thought you could go the rest of your life without knowing the answer to. But for that to be possible, you needed him to stay gone, stay out of your world forever.

He shouldn’t be here, tangled up in the sheets with you and kissing you like his life depends on it. 

He shouldn’t tell you that he misses you, that he loves you. Shouldn’t tell you to please, love him too.

It’s contradictory, isn’t it? You needed to never see him again if you stood a chance of moving on with your life. You needed it and yet, all you wanted was to have him back by your side.

The tattoo catches your attention again. It feels like it’s laughing at you, mocking you.

You clench your teeth once, your eyes beginning to turn glassy. Jungkook sees it, and he’s quick to break up your train of thought. He presses his mouth to yours, shushing you with a deep kiss that makes your head spin, despite it all.

“Don’t think about it,” he mumbles against your lips, so desperate to get you to stop. As if he can sense where this could lead.

“How could I not? I don’t know who you are anymore.”

“You know me.” He holds onto your wrist, to keep your hand on his face before you can pull it away. “I’m still the same.”

“No, you’re not,” you say quietly, absentmindedly.

“Yes,” he insists. “Yes, I am.”

Maybe that’s true. Maybe you do see the person you used to know. But you only ever see him in glimpses and it always leaves you with a terrible, nauseous feeling afterward.

He doesn’t understand how much it hurts you to catch glimpses of the boy you used to love - the boy you still love - only to realize that maybe that isn’t the person he wants to be anymore. It feels like he keeps trying to kill that version of himself, like he despises the person who meant the world to you.

Are you gone forever?

Come back quietly.

“How old are you?” you ask after a moment.

The question makes him pause, his soft features twisting in confusion. He leans back a bit, so his eyes could focus on your face better.

“What?”

“How old are you?” you repeat.

It takes him another while to answer as he tries to see where you’re going with this. But when his search comes up empty, he just answers, “29.”

"I don't know who you are at 29. The last time I knew you was 24. No. You hadn't even turned 24 yet. Where was 25? 26? 27? 28? It’s unfair that you still know who I am when I don't know who you are. I feel like I never aged a day past 24. You carried on living but I'm still here."

His eyes well up once again, but this time, you can see it. The first tear spills over, lands somewhere on your collarbone. This is what you used to want, right? To see him hurting, just like how you were hurting? Well, be careful what you wish for.

No part of you feels victorious that you’re making him cry, that the score is finally being settled, because none of this undoes all of the shit you had to go through. If anything, it makes you feel even worse, like you’re still losing.

“I never moved on from us. I couldn’t move on from you,” he says, voice cracking toward the end. Your heart is doing the same thing in your chest, but you’re glad that he can’t see it. “I swear I miss you every day. I wanted you with me every day. You have no idea how much I wanted to come back to you.”

Jungkook looks so dejected, like a reflection of you these past few years. You recognize that look in his eyes. You know that sadness all too well. He was in as much pain as you were.

He loved you when he left you. He still loves you even after all this time. 

You inhale shakily. For the first time, you feel infinitely selfish for only focusing on your own misery without even stopping to give him the benefit of the doubt, to consider the possibility that maybe letting you go wasn’t something he wanted. Maybe he isn’t the antagonist that you spent years making him out to be.

There’s more to it, and you need to know.

“Then why did you leave me?”

Graduation was just shy of a month ago, and two weeks before that was Hoseok’s flight when he left you all behind.

You and Jungkook, along with Taehyung and Jimin had gone to see him off at the airport. Of course you did, you were his best of friends after all. The goodbye was full of jokes accompanied by sniffles, and tears that overflowed without permission because you all agreed that you would hold yourself together for Hoseok. Jimin was probably the one who cried the most, even though inside, you were equally sad to see your friend leave.

A part of your life was ending, and that in and of itself was depressing enough already, but you thought at least the whole group would still be together and start the next chapter by each other’s side.

Nonetheless, it wasn’t the end of the world. All of you could still make it work, even if it wasn’t the most ideal of situations. You promised to keep in touch, promised to message the group chat every day and have video calls every weekend. You were still kids, and kids tend to be optimistic like that.

What none of you could see coming was how everything would fall apart in a matter of mere weeks.

Jungkook thinks that decades from now, when he’s old and gray and helpless, he still won’t be able to forget that day.

He should’ve been more concerned when your mother contacted him out of nowhere, asking him to meet with her, asking him not to let you know where he was going.

He’d shown up half an hour early to the cafe where they were supposed to meet, just because he didn’t want to risk being late and have your mother disapprove of him even more. Not once had she expressed anything other than disdain toward your relationship, but you’d always told him it didn’t matter, that you were the only person who could decide what to do with your life, not anyone else, let alone your mother. He always believed you back then, even if deep down, he still wanted her to see that he was enough for you. Her unattainable approval still mattered to him.

Jungkook spent thirty whole minutes running on nothing but anxiety and caffeine. That was probably his first mistake, ordering a cup of coffee which only made him more nervous than he already was.

When your mother arrived, it barely took her any time at all to get right into what she came here to say. She hadn’t even bothered with a drink.

Was that how it was always going to end? Should he have seen it coming from the beginning? Was he the only one who thought it would be you and him all the way until the very end?

Maybe he was more of a hopeless romantic than he thought.

It was the way she had called him a phase that she hoped you’d grow out of. That she had let you keep this relationship for long enough, but now that you’d graduated - now that you’d be starting a life for yourself - she couldn’t sit back and watch you throw it all away for a boy who could never give you what you deserved.

It was the way she told him she didn’t want history to repeat itself. How she didn’t want to subject you to the same fate that she and your father had to suffer through. How she had left your dad because in the end, he wasn’t enough for her and you, even though you were a child and you deserved to grow up with a father and with love.

She said the same thing would happen to you and Jungkook, because you were meant for greater things and he was not meant to deserve you. She made it clear that he would always hold you back, that he would never amount to even a fraction of what you should receive in life.

“If you love her, you would let her go.”

Cliché, right? Like the kind of stuff you only ever see in movies? Well, movies have to take inspiration from somewhere.

He thought about his own mother then, and about how people could have such different ways of showing love. He believed that your mother loved you, and he still believes that. She wouldn’t have gone through the trouble of seeing him if she didn’t care about you. She wanted the best for you, and that wasn’t him.

She didn’t have to tell him to keep it a secret from you, because he wouldn’t have told you regardless. He was well aware of how strained your relationship with your mother was, and letting you know would only drive it closer to the edge. She knew he wouldn’t tell you. He loved you, and that was the one thing that she could count on.

Just sitting there in that café, Jungkook felt like all of the air had been sucked out of the room, even though he was surrounded by the other patrons and their lively laughter as they chatted away. The pitiful way that your mother kept looking at him forced him to learn what it was like to feel truly worthless.

The pity in her eyes only intensified when he couldn’t even say a single word in response, couldn’t think of anything to defend himself.

Silence meant agreement, and that was what he chose. Jungkook - the naive boy that he was - stopped believing in you. He’d believed her instead.

He was just a kid, what else was he supposed to do? 

She was your own flesh and blood, and he knew nothing could ever replace that. He would rather let you hate him, resent him for the rest of your life, than let you lose your family.

That day, he lied to you for the first time ever, saying he couldn’t come over because he was tired. The sunflowers he bought for you just hours prior ended up dying on his windowsill.

He wouldn’t see you again for a few more days, then for months afterward.

July was supposed to represent a blossoming summer, but all he could remember was the dreadful promise of a winter that would inevitably come.

You call his name when he takes too long to answer. “Tell me.”

“I love you,” he merely says. His hand brushes your cheek.

You frown, despite the way the three words make your chest tingle.

“I love you,” he says it again, trying to ease the furrow between your brows.

“That’s not what I asked.”

“I’m sorry.”

His voice is soft, barely even audible, but it’s this gentleness that makes his words ricochet, ringing in your ears loudly like a gun going off in the quiet of your room.

Again with the apologies.

Fuck this.

It’s hard to take it to heart when you don’t even know what he’s apologizing for.

You gave Jungkook the chance to explain himself, but if he doesn’t take it, then that’s not on you. There isn’t much else that you can do.

You swallow hard, then shove him off of you so you could get out of the bed. Your legs instantly tremble as you attempt to stand, but you soldier on as you put on your bra and underwear, then grab your dress from where it lays abandoned on the floor. You’re shaking, but it’s difficult to determine if it’s because you’re angry, or cold without his warmth nearby.

He’s quick to his feet too, rushing toward you before you could leave.

“Don’t touch me,” you hiss when he reaches for your arm. He doesn’t listen, because when has Jeon Jungkook ever fucking listened?

“Y/N, wait-”

“Wait for what?! I asked you a simple question and you can’t even answer me.”

He runs a hand over his face frustratedly, clearly torn over something. He holds your angered gaze, but the way he looks at you is much milder, gentler even if it’s equally frustrated. “I’m trying to protect you.”

You don’t know if it’s the wrong answer or not. You just know that in this moment, it irritates you to no end.

“Oh my god,” you gasp mockingly. “Someone is trying to kill me.”

“What?”

“Someone is trying to kill me. Someone is waiting outside that door right now, waiting for me to come out so they can kill me. Holy fucking shit, I’m about to be assassinated.”

“Y/N, I’m serious.”

There’s that burning sensation behind your eyes again. “And you think I’m not? What do you mean you’re trying to protect me? Protect me from what? Do you think this is a fucking k-drama? Jesus Christ,” you scoff harshly. “What do you want from me? What the actual fuck do you want?”

Jungkook aims for you again, and in an attempt to ward him off, your swinging fist inadvertently collides with his chest. The dress falls to the floor again, laying next to your feet, that useless piece of fabric.

It probably doesn’t do much damage to him, but he’s a bit startled regardless. So are you, if you’re being honest. But you do it again, and surprisingly, he lets you.

“You coward.” You shove hard at his chest, making him stumble backward. “You unbelievable asshole. You fucked me, you said you loved me, and you still can’t tell me why you left me.” 

He allows you to push him until his back is pressed against the wall. And even then, you don’t relent. Your fists continue beating against his chest as you start sobbing, spilling ‘I hate you’s in between so many expletives it could make his grandmother faint.

He might bruise in the morning.

You hope he bruises in the morning.

The least Jungkook could do is bruise for you.

You want him to curse him out for so many things - for loving you, for leaving you, for not even having the balls to tell you why he broke your heart. For coming back to remind you that you still love him. For proving that he still has you in the palm of his hands, and every twitch of his finger can make you feel like the walls are crumbling down on you.

But even as you tell him how much you hate him, you’re still thinking: Come back. I don’t want to keep losing you. Come back to me.

Because he’s the only person who can hurt you like this. When you think about him, it used to make you so depressed that you could hardly function. There’s no other way to put it to make it sound less pathetic. That’s just how it is.

You shouldn’t have agreed to this weekend, shouldn’t have been nice to him, shouldn’t have let him convince you not to think about it. You shouldn’t have opened the door for him in the first place, because there was always a part of you that knew he could get under your skin so easily just like that.

This wasn’t your second chance at holding onto him. It wasn’t a do-over. It was a re-enactment.

The years haven’t made you wiser, that much is clear.

You don’t know how long this goes on for, but at some point, you begin to wear yourself out. Your movements start to slow and the energy to violently sob leaves your body until you’re nearly collapsing. Jungkook catches you when you don’t have the strength to hold yourself up anymore. Why are you always so fucking helpless?

“You just…” Your voice gets caught at the end of a sob. This is rock bottom all over again. “You make me so sad.”

You grasp his arm weakly, feeling like your own lungs are failing you. You can’t breathe. It’s too much, too infinitely humiliating. He’s doing this to you again, and this time you have to shoulder most of the blame, because you are the one that enabled your own heartbreak for the second time.

You’re still crying, and you hate that this is the first time he’s ever seen you cry like this.

“I’m trying to protect you,” he says firmly, looking at you like he’s trying so hard not to break down alongside you. “Please, I’m so sorry.” The words come out as a whisper now. You can feel the tremble in his voice and the shake of his hands where they hold you. His big bambi eyes - the usual home of constellations - now house tears that threaten to spill onto his supple cheeks. “Please. What can I do to make you believe me?”

It’s those stupid fucking eyes. It’s your stupid fucking self.

“You need to tell me.” Your tears keep on falling no matter how much he tries to wipe them away. “I can’t take it anymore.”

“It’ll make things worse,” he tells you, his voice cracking as he does. He sounds like he means it, and maybe he does believe that whatever he’s hiding from you will only hurt you more. It almost has you caving, but you can’t do this a second time. You’re exhausted, both physically and emotionally. In the morning, you’ll think about how this is all so dramatic, the way you’re acting right now. The most k-drama-esque thing that has ever happened to you. But in the moment, you just feel like someone plunged a knife in your chest, and they keep twisting it, twisting and twisting,...

In the end, you decide that it’s a risk you’ll have to take, because nothing can be more painful than the absolute hell he’s putting you through. He’ll never understand how utterly excruciating it is to experience this kind of heartbreak.

“If you don’t tell me now, I won’t be able to survive you again.”

up next...

our beloved summer (08) ⏤ aka the JK centric chapter

all rights reserved © jeonqkooks. reposting, translating and/or modifying is not permitted by any means. [posted september 30, 2023]

[gimmethatagustd]

nectar | pjm

Humans have this annoying habit of being drawn to danger, and you’re having a hard time stopping yourself from sinking your teeth into your new roommate. You’re not sure what’s more tantalizing: his impossibly good looks or his seemingly innocent way of flirting with the darkest part of you.

» pairing: human!jimin x vampire!reader 

» date & wc: May 2022 | 16k

» genre: BTS | 18+ | roommates to lovers | supernatural au | (why do i keep writing college aus??) | smut | angst | fluff (maybe?)

» warnings: alcohol | biting (it’s a vampire fic, duh) | blood | blood play | choking | degradation kink | discrimination (humans vs. vampires) | fingering | hypnosis | lots of swearing | masturbation | pain kink | reader is kinda mean to jimin for most of the fic | scratching | slapping | unprotected sex | vampire venom gets jimin high

» notes: *tiktok sound* this shit rated porn !!!! pls pay attention to the warnings. i don’t wanna freak anyone out unexpectedly!! but anyway this was really fun to write. i looooooove supernatural aus and i wanted to make a member the human for once. so i hope you freaks enjoy! 🧛🏽🩸💦

» masterlist | ao3 | join my taglist

» what was jai listening to? nectar - wayv // boy meets evil - bts

series masterlist

Ambrogio University had the bright idea to open its doors to humans. Having been a private university for vampires for five centuries, the controversial decision to end the admissions practice of denying humans was the university president’s final declaration before retiring. She had been known for operating from a far more inclusive mindset compared to previous presidents. But despite her charitable mindset, most current students, alumni, and staff were up in arms about the whole thing. Even a few trustees were ready to pull out of supporting the university (and many of them actually did). Not only was there a social shift on campus, but there was a sudden concern about the financial impact of opening the university’s doors to humans. 

Still, the efforts were underway with full force. A flood of humans were applying as first years, and even more were transferring from human-only universities. 

Which was how you ended up with a new human transfer student, Park Jimin, standing at the front door of your dorm with a backpack slung over his shoulder, a large cardboard box in his arms, and a suitcase at his feet. You’re sure he’d given you a proper greeting, but all you could focus on was his prominent Adam's apple and his muscular neck. 

This shit was stupid. 

The university was running out of human-only dorms, the administration said. They had nowhere to put the influx of new students - aside from filling up vacant rooms. And it just so happened that you had a vacant room. Your old roommate’s parents pulled her out of the university once they learned that humans would be allowed in. You’d barely been in class for a week and she was gone. 

Although you had nothing against humans, you’d put up a fight before eventually giving in to having one live with you. It sounded like such a bad idea to bring non-vampires into what was supposed to be a safe haven. Were they just going to ignore the centuries of violence humans had inflicted on vampires? Or the controversial but true reality that some vampires simply had very little self control around other species? What was the university going to do if some human student got found sucked dry in the library? Vampires were still living on the outskirts of human society; any tragedy at the university would only push everyone’s efforts back decades. Maybe even centuries. 

None of your protests mattered, and the administration ultimately swayed you with the promise that they’d heavily discount your housing fees if you roomed with a human. 

You had to sign a rather lengthy contract before being paired with the human. No harassment or discriminatory behavior against the human. No biting the human. No drinking the human’s blood, regardless of source or method. No hypnotizing or using any other form of supernatural powers against the human. No turning the human into a vampire. The list of rules went on and on. You presumed the humans had their own version of the contract to sign, but you had yet to ask anyone about it. And because you were a born vampire rather than a turned vampire, you had to undergo a short training to learn the basic functions of a human, though most of the training was merely a reiteration of the contract rules and didn’t really provide any useful information. 

What seemed like the most important thing to remember was that humans were fragile, unbelievably so. And they were stupid, so they didn’t understand just how fragile they really were. 

Your new roommate looked like he was probably the stupid kind of human. You watched him with your arms crossed against your chest, your dark maroon hawk eyes cataloging his features as he stood in the doorway. He was pretty, much prettier than the humans you’d ever interacted with, which admittedly wasn’t many. Aside from the allure of his neck, he had suggestively plump lips and sharp eyes that were overpowered by his puffy cheeks when he smiled. Despite his lean, muscular body, there was a softness to him that only added to your belief that he was stupid. Softness in humans was dangerous, and this kid clearly didn’t realize how vulnerable he was. 

“Hi, I’m Jimin,” he said, raising his shoulders in a greeting since his hands were too full to wave. There were the puffy cheeks coming out. You hated how cute he was. 

“You smell like sweat,” you replied, dropping your arms to your side. There were a few other things the training had insisted you do with your new human. One of which was to attempt to make yourself as humanlike as possible, as to make your human more comfortable in his new environment. Which was, again, stupid, but you supposed it wouldn’t kill you to force yourself to walk at a humanlike speed and not drink bottled blood while you lounged in the living room where he could see.

By the way the human’s eyes grew wide you figured your comment probably wasn’t a very human thing to say. 

Oh well. 

“I’ve been carrying heavy things and it’s really hot outside…” the human mumbled, but you were already heading down the hallway. He quickly followed you, awkwardly dragging his suitcase behind him as he went. 

“Unfortunately, we have to share a bathroom, but there should be enough room for you to put your stuff in the cabinets.” You gestured toward the bathroom door and continued down the hall, briefly stopping at a closed door. “That’s my room. Don’t go in there.” 

You tossed a look over your shoulder to narrow your eyes at Jimin. He audibly gulped and nodded his head. 

“Good. And this is your bedroom.” You stopped in front of the door, standing to the side so Jimin could enter. You watched him take in his surroundings, trying not to stare too much at the way his Adam’s apple bobbed every time he swallowed. He brushed his blonde bangs away from his forehead and you could see the sweat that had accumulated from the late-summer humidity outside. 

“Do you need water?” you asked tentatively, eyes narrowed as you waited for his response. When humans sweat, they need water, right?  

“Oh yes, please!” Jimin sat his luggage down and followed you like a little puppy back to the front of your dorm where the living room and kitchen were. 

“I don’t really have a lot of dishes,” you admitted, handing him a glass. “I don’t need them, so…” You weren’t sure if it was against best practices to talk about your diet with your human, but it was bound to come up eventually. 

If Jimin was put off, he didn’t give any reaction. He simply guzzled down his water and leaned against the kitchen counter, watching you expectantly. It was annoying. 

“They told me they built a dining hall for… humans.” The word fell from Jimin’s lips awkwardly, as if he’d never said the word human before. “Do you think the food is good or should I probably just make my own food? The college I transferred from had really shitty food.” 

You stood there for a moment, staring at him blankly. He was joking, right? 

“I’ve never had it, so I don’t know.” 

His eyes grew wide for a moment, but he quickly let them fall back to normal again and simply nodded his head. 

“Right.” 

The two of you stared at each other for much longer than you were comfortable with. Jimin leaned against the kitchen counter and shamelessly watched you, never looking away when you caught his gaze. 

“You never told me your name,” he said with a small smile, as though he thought you were being forgetful and cute. 

“They didn’t tell you who you were rooming with?” 

The human shook his head.

“I’m Y/N.” It seemed pretty dumb of him to agree to live with someone you didn’t have any information on, but you reminded yourself that you’d done the same thing… 

“How old are you?” 

Your eyebrows shot up at his sudden question and you blinked a few times in surprise. “What, do you think I’m from the 1800s or some shit? Some ancient freak?” 

“No! I just, I was just wondering,” he stuttered, lips sticking out in a nervous pout. You could hear his heartbeat increase slightly. 

“I’m twenty-two. Shocking, huh?” You took a step towards Jimin and his heart picked up again. With narrowed eyes, you leaned into his personal space, close enough to see your own reflection in his eyes. How funny. 

“You humans watch Twilight and suddenly think you’re experts.” As you spoke you watched Jimin’s eyes land on your mouth, likely noticing your elongated canines for the first time. “Don’t believe everything you see on TV, kid. It might get you into trouble.” 

You took a step back and allowed Jimin some space to breathe because you noticed he’d stopped at some point in your little interrogation. Definitely didn’t want your human passing out on his first day. You were sure the university administration would hate that. 

“Gimme your phone.” 

“What?” Jimin eyed you curiously. 

“Gimme your phone.” You held out your hand impatiently. “Roommates need to have each other’s numbers. Didn’t you have a roommate at your old college?” 

“Yeah, but he…” 

You didn’t need Jimin to finish his sentence. You knew what he was going to say. But he wasn’t a vampire. 

With a huff you snatched his phone out of his hand, quickly inputting your number before handing it back. “Don’t call me unless it’s an emergency. I hate talking on the phone.” 

Jimin nodded quickly, hopefully learning that he would be better off keeping his mouth shut. 

“Good. I gotta go to class, but uh, make yourself at home.” 

You were going to regret this. 

As it turned out, surprisingly, Jimin was a pretty chill roommate. After everything you’d heard about humans growing up, you’d thought he would require a lot more work. Thankfully, he was rather self-sufficient. He spent most of his time in the library, not that you knew that; all you were going off of was what he’d told you. And when he was at your dorm, he didn’t require much out of you. The main thing that you could really live without was his incessant questions. 

“Do you care if I use garlic? Garlic powder?” 

You lifted your head from where you laid sprawled out on the living room couch, pillow tucked under your arm and a Nat Geo special about King Tut on the TV. You could see Jimin standing in front of the refrigerator with the door open. 

“Excuse me?” 

Jimin turned to look at you, a soft pout forming on his face that could only be explained by his desire to be accommodating for you, despite having no idea what he was fucking talking about. 

“Well, is it true that vampires don’t like garlic?” He brushed his bangs out of the way and looked into your eyes from across the room. Unlike the other humans scurrying around the university, intimidated by their vampire peers, Jimin met your gaze with no hesitation or timidness. It was odd. 

“No. That’s a myth,” you said with a sigh, plopping down on your pillow. Jimin had thrown these types of stereotypical questions your way at least three times a day. Initially it had pissed you off, but he was slowly starting to wear you down. It was hard to get mad when he looked at you with such soft eyes, lips slightly parted, a look of earnestness on his face as though you were going to give him forbidden knowledge.  

If anything, the worst part was him simply existing. You’d never spent so much time with a human in such close proximity before. You’d assumed after the first few days you’d get used to the sound of his heart, the smell of his skin, the way you could see his pulse in his neck when he was hunched over his textbooks at the kitchen table. 

Yet here you were, weeks later, subconsciously licking your lips as you watched him watch you. 

Jimin let out a small hmm and turned back to the grocery list he was making. Assuming the conversation was over, you turned back to your show and settled deeper into the blanket you had wrapped around you. 

“Is it true that vampire bites feel good?” 

Jimin migrated to the living room and dared to sit down on the other end of the couch you were lying on. The close proximity genuinely startled you, although you refused to let it show. You’d never been so close to him, and for good reason. Everything about his smell and the pumping of his veins inside his body was enhanced the closer he got to you. You could feel your own breathing hitch, and you quickly sat up.  

“Who told you that?” you asked him slowly, tongue heavy in your mouth. 

Jimin shrugged, leaning his head back slightly to run his fingers through his blonde locks. The action exposed his neck slightly, making his Adam’s apple more prominent. “I’ve just heard people say that.” 

You stared at him for a long time, unsure of how you should approach the question. The training your university had provided hadn’t addressed anything like this. 

“It can… depending on the situation.” 

“Like what?” 

You narrowed your eyes at him. “Why do you want to know this shit all of a sudden?” 

“It’s not all of a sudden.” Jimin gave you a smile that reached his eyes. He brought up his legs to cross them on the couch. “I’m just curious. I’ve never had a vampire friend before.” 

Friend. He thought you were friends. Cute. Unrealistic, but cute.

“Getting bitten hurts like hell, obviously. It’s pointy bones stabbing into your flesh,” you said with an exasperated sigh. You drew your knees against your chest and wrapped your arms around them. “But the… venom in our… fangs… makes the experience feel pleasurable after the initial pain. I think scientists say it’s like being high or something.” 

You didn’t like the panicky feeling in your chest as you shared what felt like deep, dark secrets with an outsider. The thing was that a simple Google search could tell him everything he wanted to know.

You could practically see the gears turning in Jimin’s head as he reflected on what you’d explained. It made the anxiety in you heighten, and you felt the need to add a disclaimer to your words, “But some vampires are really sadistic. They like to make it hurt.” 

Why you thought you needed to protect him was beyond you. Maybe because you thought he was dumb. And you didn’t like the way your peers eyed him in the halls like he was something to eat. 

“Some humans don’t mind a little pain.” 

Your eyes nearly popped out of your head. What the fuck? Was Jimin alluding to something or was he merely playing devil’s advocate? 

He bit his bottom lip and you saw his eyes roam your face, which you quickly tried to make neutral and expressionless. It was too late, though. The tiniest of smirks lifted up the corner of Jimin’s mouth. 

“Well, I wouldn’t know. I’ve never been bitten by another vampire,” you said with a glare, but you were lying through your teeth. Your last ex-boyfriend had been… weird, to say the least. Not that Jimin needed to know that. 

You quickly stood up, gathering your blanket and phone. “End of discussion. Some things are better not knowing,” you said with a sharp look at Jimin, but his smirk had disappeared. In its place was a soft pout and his puppy eyes gazed up at you with a look of innocence your mind could hardly comprehend. 

“Thank you, Y/N,” he said gently, standing up. He reached out to run his fingers along your forearm. “I like talking to you. You make me feel less different.” 

His hand was warm against your deathly cold skin and if you still had a working heart you knew it would be hammering to get out of your chest. A human had never touched you before. 

“Uh… I’m happy I could be of service,” you spoke barely above a whisper, looking away from Jimin’s gaze. Now you were the one sounding stupid. 

“I’m going to the store, but if you need anything, let me know!” And with that Jimin headed back to the kitchen to retrieve his grocery list and jacket. Even after the front door was shut and locked, you couldn’t look away from where Jimin had been. What the fuck had just happened? 

“Sooooooo, are you really gonna make me ask?” 

You let out a long sigh and leaned back into your friend’s couch. Although you knew she hated when you did it, you propped your feet on the coffee table in front of you, ankles crossed. At least you weren’t wearing shoes, right? 

“I have nothing to report.” 

“Y/N, shut the fuck up and tell me how things are going. It’s been weeks and you still haven’t told me anything.” 

“Well, Nikki, if I shut the fuck up, then I won’t be able to tell you anything, will I?”

Nikki gave a loud huff and pretended like she was going to throw her beer bottle at you. Being doused in blood-based beer wasn’t pleasant, and you knew from experience. One too many vampire-only music festivals over the summer and it’d do it to you. 

You brought your own bottle to your lips, grimacing as you swallowed. You couldn’t understand why you drank this shit. 

“It’s been weird, that’s how it’s been. He won’t stop following me around, asking me stupid questions.” 

“You might be being too hard on him. Ever thought about that?” Nikki cocked her head to the side and gave you a scolding look. “He’s new! To a new school and a totally different environment than he’s used to. Maybe he has never even met a vampire before.” 

“Oh, trust me, he hasn’t. I can just tell.” Your nose scrunched up at your recollection of a few choice questions he’d thrown at you in the few weeks you’d known him. 

“How?”

“Well, let’s see. He asked me how old I was the first day. Yesterday he asked me if it hurt when I got turned, and then when I explained that I was born, he barely disguised his look of disgust.”

“Are you sure it was disgust? Maybe it was just shock? Most humans don’t know vampires can have children.” 

You narrowed your eyes at Nikki. “You asked me to tell you what’s been going on and I’m telling you.”

“Okay, okay.” Nikki raised her hands up in surrender and nestled into the armchair she was sitting in, beer clasped between her slender hands. 

There were a lot of reasons why Nikki was your best friend, but one major reason was because the two of you were the only born vampires in your friend group. The rest had been turned at various stages of their lives, but you and Nikki had been born with the curse, only becoming immortal once you turned twenty and had your first taste of human blood. If humans thought getting a period for the first time was a major life milestone, a born vampire’s first meal was akin to a spiritual awakening. You and Nikki had attended each other’s ceremonies, and you were sworn with blood magic to never speak of it to anyone but the people who were there. 

Shit like that bonded people a lot more than explaining how to put in a tampon. 

“I guess it could be worse. He’s nice, at least. And he listens to me when I tell him what to do.” 

Nikki snorted. “Of course. Obedience. Your favorite quality in a man.”

“And so few have it in them,” you matched your friend’s snort. “Y’know, maybe I should keep this little human around. He could be useful.” 

“Oh, for what, pray tell?” 

“Pray tell? You need to stop hanging out with Jin’s 400-year-old ass. He’s got you talking like a weirdo.” 

“Leave me alone! You’re the one wanting a henchman to do your evil bidding.” 

“Do you think I could convince him to do my homework?”

Nikki rolled her eyes and tilted her head to knock back the rest of her beer. That would mark bottle number four, at least. She was in her “off” part of her on-and-off relationship, which meant lots of shitty beer and gossiping and crying and doing other emotional things you weren’t a fan of. 

“I think that sounds very high school, but maybe? If he’s smart.” 

You gave Nikki a nod, but let the conversation fall flat. Your roommate wasn’t smart at all, at least not when it came to street smarts. He definitely seemed like an academic genius, though. He’d gotten a massive scholarship and he was studying to become a doctor of some sort… not your thing as a History major. There was one night you’d gotten home rather late, and you’d found him asleep in the living room, the coffee table stacked with large textbooks and notes with science-y things you didn’t understand. How was he not even a month into school and already up to his ears in work? 

You also weren’t ready to admit how you’d gotten used to having his little pouty face around. It was the way he sung to himself as he cooked, using the spatula as a microphone and gliding his feet along the tile in a cute little dance. Or how you’d woken up to him tucking you in with your favorite blanket when you’d fallen asleep on the couch, never scared to approach you despite the horrible things you’d heard humans say about vampires. 

“When are you going to introduce us?” Nikki’s absurd question pulled you from your thoughts. 

“Excuse me? Why would you need to meet him?” 

Nikki leaned towards you from her seat, her dark eyes shining red in the dim lighting of her living room. “Am I just never going to go to your dorm ever again? Obviously I have to meet him at some point!” 

You frowned and Nikki let out a laugh of victory, knowing that you had no comeback to fight her sound logic. 

“What does he look like? Show me a pic.” She made grabby hands at your phone, which you held tightly against your chest. 

“I don’t have any pictures of him, what the fuck.” 

Nikki eyed you for the hopeless case that you were and settled for pulling out her own phone. “Park… Jimin…” she muttered to herself as she typed. You saw her long index finger swipe up the phone and you fought your urge to get up to see what she was doing. 

“Is this him?” Nikki held her phone out to you, revealing an Instagram account. She’d brought up the most recent photo posted. 

“Uhhh… yeah. He must have just dyed his hair ‘cause he definitely didn’t look like that this morning.” 

“Ooh, he’s cute, Y/N. You failed to mention that in all your complaining,” Nikki giggled, bringing her phone back to her face to continue scrolling. “An account called oppa_pics liked this? He got over a thousand likes in two hours? And holy fuck, his neck… Y/N, his neck is… gorgeous. Like, he literally put it on display.” 

“Let me see,” you reached for Nikki’s phone, but she swatted at your hand. 

“Use your own phone. I’m looking to see if he has any thirst traps.” 

You didn’t want to use your phone because then that would mean that you went out of your way to learn more about the man living with you. No matter how thick his neck was and how soft his lips looked, you wanted to avoid crossing the line into friendship. It would be easier to ignore your growing interest in him if you blocked him out of your mind. 

“I wonder who Imani Harris is… maybe his girlfriend? She comments on, like, all his photos,” Nikki spoke mostly to herself as she scrolled through the rest of Jimin’s Instagram. You opted to scroll through TikTok instead, trying to fight your sudden curiosity in whatever girl was thirsting after your roommate on his socials.  

A sudden squeal from Nikki had you covering your sensitive ears. “What the fuck, Nik?” 

“Y/N, he has so many shirtless pics if you scroll down to last summer. Look at his abs. Look at them.” Nikki was back to shoving her phone in your face. 

It was hard to deny the fact that your new roommate was hiding a killer body beneath his loose-fitting hoodies and joggers. If the hills and valleys of his abdomen weren’t enough, he had a tattoo across his ribs as well. 

“I thought humans weren’t supposed to look like that…” Nikki bit her thumb, her fangs gleaming. “He’s so fit… God, his neck, Y/N. Does he really look like that in real life? How the fuck are you living with that?” 

“Don’t you think it’s kinda stupid? He goes to a vampire university, Nikki. And he’s showing himself off like a fucking snack. Literally.” You pressed your lips tight against each other and gave Nikki a hard look. She slowly released her thumb and tucked her phone away, giving you a weak smile. 

“Sorry. I just don’t think I’ve ever seen a human I’ve wanted to both fuck and murder so strongly.” 

“Wow, not the “M” word,” you groaned with a roll of your eyes. “This is exactly why they shouldn’t have even let humans in here in the first place. And why I didn’t want you to meet him.” 

“I’m not going to do anything to him!” Nikki protested. “I mean, nothing he wouldn’t want me to do…” The mischievous grin flashed for a moment, but it died on her lips when she watched you swing your feet off the coffee table and stand up. 

You grabbed your half-empty beer bottle to pour out and toss in the trash. “I gotta go. I’m exhausted.” 

“Okay… If you need anything, let me know? All jokes aside, I know this is a hard transition for you.” Nikki stood to wrap her arms around your shoulders, pulling you into a firm but caring embrace. 

“Don’t worry about me, Nik. You know I’m chill.” You flashed her a peace sign and slipped through her front door. The moon was full and centered in the sky as you walked home, casting an eerie light that wavered in the humid air. You were, in fact, chill. But this human might possibly be what made you snap. 

And you were going to snap a lot sooner than you’d initially thought. 

You swung the front door to your dorm open, kicked off your sneakers, and rounded the corner to the living room. Despite only having a beer and a half compared to Nikki’s four, you’d been drinking on an empty stomach and the alcohol really hit you harder than expected. So at first you thought you were going crazy when you heard not one, but two pounding heartbeats echoing through the apartment in a symphony of chaos. 

That is, until you laid your eyes on your living room couch. 

You’d certainly have enough to report back to Nikki, now. Jimin was sitting on the couch, shirtless and wearing a pair of joggers. He had his head leaned against the back of the couch to expose the smooth, milky skin of his neck. 

You swallowed thickly, mouth hanging open slightly as your hungry eyes followed the length of his neck to find a pair of lips sucking one of many hickeys on his throat. 

The girl straddling Jimin’s lap was someone you’d never seen before, which wasn’t surprising since she was human. Both straps of her sundress were pushed down her shoulders and the hem of the dress was hiked up her thighs. Jimin’s hands were hidden beneath the girl’s dress, but you could tell that he was gripping her ass to guide her as she started grinding into his crotch. 

You watched Jimin’s plump lips part and you heard the softest of whines come from his mouth. You couldn’t breathe. Not that you even needed to, but it was uncomfortable nonetheless. 

So, maybe it was your fault because you didn’t have the talk with Jimin yet, but you’d also assumed he wouldn’t be bringing anyone over to your dorm after being at school for less than a month. Not with that baby face. Who was wanting to fuck Park Jimin? Puffy cheeks and pouty lips? Maybe if they liked looking at bambi eyes during sex, you scoffed to yourself. 

The girl pulled away from Jimin’s neck, likely to kiss him instead, and that was enough to break the spell you’d fallen under. Now you were bubbling hot with frustration at your new little roommate getting his freak on in the fucking living room when he had a whole ass bedroom he could’ve locked himself in. 

“Having fun?” You snickered, arms crossed against your chest. You enjoyed the way the girl’s eyes grew wide as she looked up at you, scrambling to fix her dress. You gave her a sickeningly sweet smile as she fumbled with a pathetic attempt at an apology. You were finding that there was nothing more entertaining than watching the fear spike through humans’ eyes when their gaze landed on your fangs. 

You ignored Jimin, not interested in dealing with him quite yet. 

“I’m, I’m, I’m so sorry,” the girl stuttered, avoiding your gaze as she reached for her shoes. 

“I, I, I don’t care,” you mocked her, the smile still maintained. “Get out of my dorm. And if you’re gonna let him rail you in the future, do it in your own fucking house or at least in his bedroom, aight? Not on my couch where I fucking watch Disney+.” 

Your straightforwardness clearly shocked the girl because she rushed past you immediately without so much as a glance in Jimin’s direction. You didn’t give a fuck if she was some random hookup or his girlfriend, as Nikki had suggested Jimin might have one. You were tired and grumpy and fed up with talking about Jimin all day long. 

Once you heard the front door slam shut, you turned your attention to your little human who still sat with his legs spread on the couch, torso still exposed. 

You did your best to ignore the bright red spots on his neck where the blood vessels had been ruptured. Hickeys were like the X on a treasure map. Little splotches calling out to you, a reminder of just how easy it would be to sink your teeth- 

“Y/N.” Jimin gazed up at you with hooded eyes, his lips pink and even more swollen from kissing. His typically sweet voice dropped an octave or two, and the unfamiliar gruffness with which he spoke your name shot heat straight to your thighs. “I’m sorry. I got carried away.” 

A loud snort was the response you gave him as you attempted to calm yourself down. Where was the timid, baby-faced roommate of yours? Who followed you around like a bumbling idiot, both terrified of you and clinging to your every word? The man you saw before you was more of a stranger than regular Jimin, with an air of cockiness that radiated from his body in heatwaves. And if you thought his hickeys and fuck-me eyes were too much to deal with, you were in for an even bigger surprise when your eyes fell to catch sight of the outline of his erection in his pants. 

Fucking hell. 

You turned quickly, marching straight for your bedroom. It didn’t matter that you were still hungry, and all your bottled blood was in the kitchen. There was no fucking way you were going to walk past your roommate a second time. 

“Y/N, wait,” Jimin called after you hoarsely. 

You heard him start to follow you, but you reached your bedroom first. You closed the door quickly and locked it behind you. With your back against the door, you slowly slid down until you were sitting on the floor, a hand slapped over your mouth as you struggled to stop yourself from panting. Your mind was reeling with the sound of Jimin’s heart pounding in his chest. You listened to him walk away from your room, heard his own bedroom door open and shut. You focused on inhaling through your mouth and exhaling through your nose as silently as you could to regulate your breathing. 

Why was Jimin’s heart beating even faster? He was in his own room now; you’d hoped the distance between the two of you and the entire situation would help him calm down. Yet somehow it was getting worse. 

This is exactly why living with humans was a bad fucking idea. 

Frantically looking around the room, your eyes locked on your headphones. You stood to grab them off your desk when another sound mixed with Jimin’s heartbeat stopped you in your tracks. 

“Fuck…” 

You heard a soft moan, followed by a wet squelching sound that repeated in a slow but steady rhythm. He was fucking masturbating, and your hypersensitive hearing was forcing you to indulge in every little detail. On top of that, you could hear his breathing pick up, heavy sighs that flowed from his mouth to the back and forth rhythm you knew his hand was making along his cock. 

Which, based on what you’d seen, was massive. 

For a moment you stood there, eyes fluttering closed as you listened to the symphony of filth coming from Jimin’s bedroom. It was impossible for your body and mind to know what to latch onto: the way you could practically feel his blood coursing through his veins or the sound of him messily pumping away at himself. Or maybe the fight was between the hollow feeling in your stomach from not eating since lunch and the heat that was climbing up your neck and down your thighs the longer you stood there.

Shaking your head furiously, you rushed to put the headphones in your ears and choose literally any song on your phone that was loud enough to drown out what you were experiencing. With your headphones secured, you laid down in your bed with your eyes shut, putting all your mental energy into the loud song you had on repeat, thankful that you could no longer hear Jimin. 

You liked to think that you were a responsible person. Although you weren’t always a rule-follower, you knew when to take shit seriously and had little patience for stupidity. Which was why when you finally opened your eyes the next morning, you felt a spike of fear stab into the middle of your chest. 

You shot out of bed, chest heaving and shuddering with every gasp of air, head swiveling around the room like it was barely screwed onto your neck. The headphones you’d worn throughout the night were tossed onto the floor beside your bed, along with your t-shirt and shorts. You vaguely remembered peeling off your clothes in the middle of the night after sweating so profusely they’d become uncomfortable plastered onto your skin. 

There was that sound again… the sound you’d almost gotten used to before Jimin had fucked it all up again. Jimin’s heartbeat, pitter pattering away in the kitchen as though it wasn’t the bane of your existence. You ground your teeth together, one fang nicking your bottom lip hard enough to draw a tiny bit of blood, and tried to pull yourself together. 

Jimin sat at the kitchen table with one knee pulled up against his chest in his chair, munching on pancakes he’d made for himself. Saliva gathered along your tongue, and it wasn’t because of the heavenly smell of warm butter and maple syrup. 

“Good morning!” Jimin’s smile was pushing his cheeks into his eyes, but his cheerfulness quickly disappeared as he met the gaze of your bright red eyes. You couldn’t look into a mirror to see yourself even if you wanted to, but it didn’t take a mirror to know that you looked fucking deranged. Bedhead a mess, eyeliner from the day before smeared, a deep grimace etched into your face. This was the first time Jimin was seeing you with hungry eyes unnaturally red, pupils dark pinpoints in the middle of your irises. It wasn’t a pretty sight, that was for sure. And it wasn’t meant to be. It was a warning, to yourself and anyone who crossed your path: it had been too long since you’d fed. 

“Don’t fucking talk to me,” you growled, fingers wrapping around the refrigerator handle. You were being harsh, but you felt you couldn’t be responsible for what you did in a state like this. It was hard enough to ignore the violent urge to attack Jimin in the middle of the kitchen, bright and early on a fine Saturday morning. 

“Y/N…” Jimin called out to your back. “Are you okay?” 

You spun around to face Jimin. “Do I fucking look okay?” you hissed.

If Jimin was scared of you, he certainly was doing an amazing job at hiding it. He was looking at you with an odd mix of fascination and… something you couldn’t quite put your finger on. His bright eyes were wide and he watched you with his lips slightly parted. His tongue darted out to run along his bottom lip, and you saw his eyes sweep over your body for a moment. 

“You don’t have any more… blood left.” 

You almost didn’t hear what he said, your eyes locked on the way his lips parted and his tongue touched his teeth as he spoke that word and the way he swallowed hard once he finished speaking. 

The burning in your chest pulled you out of your hungry stupor and you turned from Jimin to fling the refrigerator open. No bottles of your favorite prepackaged blood drinks, humanely sourced from human donors sympathetic for the vampires’ curse (or desperate for some easy cash). Not a single one. Not even an animal-based blood beer. 

“Motherfucker.” How had you forgotten to stock up? 

If Jimin was smart, he’d have left already. You weren’t erratic, but you certainly weren’t in the best of moods. The idea of having to haul your ass all the way to the dining hall to retrieve your blood rations across campus was less than ideal. Maybe you could have Nikki or Jin bring you some; they only lived a few resident halls down.

You were ripped out of your thoughts by Jimin’s sudden presence. He leaned against the kitchen counter, carding his fingers through his fluffy pink hair. Reaching the back of his head, he let his hand run along his neck, over his collarbones, and then fall to his side once more. 

“What?” You glared. You didn’t like how Jimin had a habit of just looking at you. For someone who loved running his mouth with questions, he certainly sat with his mouth hanging open and nothing coming out at the most inconvenient of times. 

“You can drink my blood.” 

“What?!” you repeated, coughing out of shock. “Jimin, what the fuck?” 

He looked at you through hooded eyes like he had the night before, and you remembered the whole reason why you hadn’t eaten in nearly twenty-four hours. 

“I give you permission to drink my blood.” He took a step towards you. The syrup on his breath was sugary and domestic, something you knew to be comforting in human culture, but that you had never gotten to experience before.  

“You have no fucking idea what you’re saying,” you hissed, backing up. But Jimin only pressed on. 

“Let me help you.” His voice was soft and gentle, alluring even.   

The temptation was so strong you felt as though your body and your soul were pulling each other in opposite directions, ripping at the seams. Fuck, he would taste so good. You knew it. 

“Stop it.” You pressed your hands against his chest, holding him at arm’s length. “It’s against the rules. And I will hurt you.” Let’s not pay attention to how firm he felt under your fingers. Let’s not focus on the fact that you knew firsthand what was underneath that baggy t-shirt. 

There was too fucking much going on. 

“I don’t care,” Jimin encouraged, lips falling into a pout, though his eyes still burned into yours with an intensity that made you shiver. You, the monster. 

Your eyes fell to his throat and you wondered if he purposefully swallowed. 

“I…” you breathed heavily, eyes finding Jimin’s once again. You could feel your resolve weaken, and somehow Jimin could sense it. He leaned into your hands, causing your elbows to bend and allowing him to get even closer. 

“I know you want to,” he whispered, your chests now almost touching. “I saw the way you looked at me last night.” 

Fuck. 

You shook your head, but you didn’t make any effort to push Jimin away. You could, if you wanted to. You were naturally twice as strong as him, if not more than that. And yet you just watched as he tilted his head for you, his breathing becoming airy and shallow. 

At that moment there was a loud knock at the door. You’d been so distracted by Jimin that you hadn’t noticed the sound of anyone approaching your dorm. 

“Shit, shit, shit,” you muttered, finally shoving Jimin away from you. He had the audacity to look upset, but you were already trying to block the entire interaction out of your brain. 

You stood on your toes to look into the peephole and let out a low groan once you saw who was standing outside your door. 

“Nikki, what the fuck?” You pried the door open enough to poke your head out. “What do you want?” 

“I texted you multiple times - wait, oh my god, Y/N, did you get breakfast yet?” Her eyes lit up with fear, and her hands reached out to touch your cheek, finally noticing your red eyes. You shook away the physical affection. 

“I’m about to leave now. Can you go with me?” You didn’t want to make the trek alone and you needed someone to make sure you didn’t get left with Jimin any longer. 

“Of course,” Nikki nodded, concern still warping her features. “Can I come inside?” 

“If you came over to get a look at Jimin…” 

“No! I swear, I was coming to see if you wanted to go to the dining hall. I swear.” You didn’t believe her, but you had no choice but to let her in. You were still wearing your sweaty pajamas. 

“Don’t do anything stupid. I got issues with him today.” You knew Nikki would want more information than just that, but you weren’t ready to admit anything fully. 

Jimin was still leaning against the kitchen counter, though he meandered into the living room when Nikki plopped onto the couch. 

“Good morning,” he said politely, that classic smile turning his eyes into half moons. “I’m Jimin.” How the fuck had he turned back into the sweet boy with puffy cheeks and a toothy grin in a matter of seconds? 

“Nice to meet you, Jimin.” 

You watched Nikki’s eyes investigate Jimin from head to toe and back again, before matching his sweet demeanor by introducing herself, as well. There was no denying the interest she was taking in him; you’d have to remind her later that she technically had a boyfriend. The less time the two of them spent alone together, the better. 

Speeding through a shower, you didn’t bother to do anything with your hair or makeup, just opting to slip into jeans and a clean t-shirt. You weren’t the type to care much about your appearance, unless you were doing something important. And even then, you dressed for yourself more than for anyone else. 

Right now, you were concerned about not starving to death or attacking your psychopathic roommate. The way you looked mattered very little. 

“Oooh, I would love for you to teach me sometime,” Nikki cooed. 

“Let me know when you’re free and we can meet up.” 

You could just tell from Nikki’s voice that she had that dreamy look on her face that she got when she was trying to lure in someone she thought was cute. You came around the corner to see Jimin and Nikki sitting a bit too close together for your liking. The twinge in your gut wasn’t a feeling you were very pleased to experience, and you didn’t want to unpack the jealousy causing your chest to heat up. What the fuck was there to be jealous about? You’d gladly let Jimin be someone else’s problem. 

“Teach you what?” You shot Nikki a suspicious look and she gave you an awkward smile. 

“Did you know that Jimin dances? No wonder he’s got killer-” 

“Great! Let’s go before the dining hall closes for the morning, aight?” You snatched Nikki’s forearm and pulled her from the couch. 

“Bye Jimin!” Nikki waved at the boy, practically swooning over the grin he sent her way as you slammed the front door closed between them. 

“Y/N, he’s so precious, why do you act like he’s the devil?” Nikki clasped her hands together, the dreamy look still clouding her vision. You ignored her question and draped an arm over her shoulder to guide her towards food. 

“He’s not as innocent as he pretends to be,” you said with a tight frown. You thought you were good at reading people, but Jimin was throwing you for a loop. 

“Did something happen?” 

You shook your head, stepping into the warm air outside. Another great myth debunked; vampires could be in the sun for short spurts of time without any issue. You loved the mornings when the sun’s rays weren’t overbearing and you could absorb the rays with no fear of your energy being drained. 

“Y/N, you can tell me.” 

You sighed, knowing you shouldn’t have brought it up in the first place. “He brought some girl over and they were all over each other in the living room. It was just annoying.” 

“Boys are gross.” Nikki sniffed the late-summer air, sensing the impending arrival of autumn. 

You felt a pinch of guilt mix with all the other fucked up emotions swirling around in your stomach, but you couldn’t bring yourself to spill it all to Nikki. Though you weren’t sure why. Ever since the two of you had met freshman year, you’d been inseparable. You knew Nikki told you everything. You were the one being a bitch. 

“Yeah… they are.” 

Living with Jimin for almost a month was enough time for you to figure out his schedule. That meant that it was easier for you to avoid him after your little situation in the kitchen. It had been a few days and you still hadn’t seen or spoken to him, purposefully waking up before he did and coming home after you knew he would be in bed. You were still attempting to process what had happened. Was Jimin attempting to reach the high that came with a vampire bite, like some kind of drug? Did he want to become a vampire? 

You’d heard of humans who were into that kind of shit, like fetishes or being a genuine junkie for the twisted pleasure vampires could sometimes provide. The possibilities made you shiver, and you couldn’t help but think back to the way he’d immediately gone into his room to finish off what he’d started with the girl he’d brought over. Or the way he clearly enjoyed her sucking on his neck. 

You nearly ran into the glass door of the library from being lost in your spiraling thoughts. Luckly, some kind soul opened the door for you before you could react. Although most of the research you needed to do for your history midterm paper could be done online, there was one book in particular that you needed to get your hands on.

With midterm finals around the corner, the library was unsurprisingly packed. Your desire to stay away from people pushed you to peruse the stacks and leave once you found your book, not wanting to find a place in the library to work. 

Assuming you’d actually find the book. 

You arrived at the bookshelf you knew the book was supposed to be, but you couldn’t find it. Someone had misplaced books, authors with the last name of “A” showing up in the “G” section of the stacks. 

“Why are people so fucking stupid,” you muttered under your breath, though there was no one in the aisle to hear you. That is, until you saw a familiar face round the corner. You thought about dashing out of the aisle, but he’d already caught sight of you, his gaze boring into yours. 

“Hi,” Jimin said quietly, being mindful of the fact that you were in a library. The airy sound of his voice made your stomach flutter. He was wearing tight jeans with the knees ripped out, the material hugging his thighs in a way that pissed you off. On top of that, the cut of his t-shirt accentuated his chest and the swell of his biceps filling tightly in his sleeves. 

You did your best to look him in the face rather than allow your eyes to travel to his smooth throat or lower. 

“Have you been hiding from me in the library this whole time?” He gave you a sad pout, head cocked to the side. Why were you starting to feel guilty? 

“No,” you said flatly, turning to look at the spine of one of the books on the shelf. It was nothing interesting to you, except for in this very specific moment. 

Jimin took another step forward. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.” His voice came out low and deeper than usual. You felt its vibrations ripple through your body to your toes. 

“I think you’re playing with something that’s not meant to be played with,” you spoke through your teeth, not saying what you meant, but saying enough that you knew Jimin knew what you were talking about. Whatever his interest was in vampires, it was dangerous. 

“Hmm… but there’s something else I want to play with, that I haven’t been able to.” He gave you an innocent smile as if his words weren’t laced with innuendo. 

“Jimin,” you hissed him a warning, baring your fangs in an effort to get him to back off. Although he was ever the obedient boy and did finally step out of your personal space, he held that innocent smile and never once faltered during your attempt to be intimidating. If anything, it made those adorable cheeks become even fuller, as though he were enjoying it. 

“Hey, no need for that,” he put his hands up, pointing at your teeth. “I just wanted to ask you a question.” 

When did Jimin not have questions for you? With a sigh, you nodded your head. The boyish smile he often wore came back and you were convinced you’d never grow tired of seeing the expression on him, even as annoying as he was. 

“I was going to tell you earlier but I could never find you…” he started off slowly, and you ignored the frown he gave you. He could have texted you if it was that important… “Tomorrow night my dance group is having a performance and I wanted to invite you.” 

You blinked, clearly taken by surprise that the question wasn’t some inappropriate inquiry about vampires’ lives. Jimin looked at you with hope sparkling in his eyes. 

“Oh,” you exhaled, feeling your body relax a bit. “Umm, I need to get ahead on one of my papers, but if I feel like I’m in a good spot I can go? Just text me the details?” It wasn’t a yes, but it also wasn’t a no. 

That seemed to be enough for Jimin because he was back to beaming at you again. He bounced on the balls of his feet for a moment. “Sure! And Nikki is invited, too!” 

You didn’t like that. Not that you weren’t planning on bringing her with you anyway, but you didn’t like that he’d offered the idea first. “Yeah, for sure. Thanks.” The two of you stared at each other while you tried to figure out how to walk away. “I’ve gotta go…” 

“Right. Good luck with your paper!” 

You nodded a thanks and left, completely forgetting that you still hadn’t gotten the book you needed.

It came as no surprise that Nikki forced you to go to Jimin’s performance. She was always forcing you to be social, though you were convinced there was an ulterior motive this time. She just wanted to see Jimin grab his dick as he thrusted and do some body rolls to sexually explicit music. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to see those things, too (although you’d never admit it out loud). You just didn’t feel like doing shit with other people. 

Which was why, weeks later, she was harassing you about your Halloween plans. She figured now that you were starting to become friends with Jimin (her words, not yours), it was now time for the rest of your friends to meet him. 

Or maybe she just wanted to go to a party with Jimin and see if she could be on the receiving end of his thrusting. 

“Y/N, you have to host the Halloween party. Your dorm is the only one big enough for everyone to pregame in before we go to the frat houses.” It was the same plea Nikki had made the year before. How were you the unlucky one to always end up with the better apartment? 

It was impossible to say no to someone like Nikki. She was determined, knew how to give a good pout, and pulled the whole “we’ve been bonded for life through blood magic, you can’t say no to me” excuse. All three were a deadly combination that made you cave every single time. 

So it was no surprise that the two of you were examining each other’s outfits in your bedroom. Despite the fact that the party was in your own dorm, you were fashionably late. The speakers were blaring in the living room, and the living room and kitchen were already packed with your closest friends - and plenty of plus ones you didn’t know.   

“Okay, what do you think? I think you look hot.” Nikki handed her phone to you so you could see a photo of yourself. Though you couldn’t use mirrors, you could show up in digital photos. How lovely was modern technology? 

You examined your slutty Princess Tiana outfit, zooming in on a few details before handing the phone back to Nikki. 

“You look hotter,” you said with a grin and a wiggle of your eyebrows, admiring her thrilling interpretation of Cinderella. Both of your outfits were complete with skirts that just barely covered your ass and the cutest garters you’d ever seen. Provocative clothing wasn’t really your thing, but Halloween was all about being something you weren’t. Plus, you were already kind of drunk and alcohol was perfect for loosening you up. 

Some people even said that alcohol made you nice. What an idea! 

“NIKKI! Y/N! COME OUT HERE!” Jin’s voice carried over the pop music. 

You and Nikki struggled to suppress giggles as you stared at each other, tightly clutching your drinks in your hands. Jin was 400 years old; he certainly knew how to throw a party. That was why you trusted him to take over while you finished getting ready. 

Finally satisfied with your looks, you slipped out of your bedroom with Nikki at your heels and immediately collided with Jin. No surprise, he was dressed like a 1600s pirate. You had yet to find evidence that Jin really had been a pirate in his early days, but you also didn’t have a reason to think he was lying, either. 

“We’re doing shots and then once Hobi texts me, we’re heading over to Sig Nu,” Jin hollered over the music and you were too drunk to question if you should maybe turn it down before you all got in trouble. 

“You know I never turn down shots,” Nikki grinned with a shimmy of her shoulders. “But someone has to make sure Y/N doesn’t take her fucking clothes off this time.” 

“Hey!” You jabbed Nikki in the arm with your index finger. “That happened one time and I blame whatever the fuck ATO put in their juice.” 

Nikki threw her head back in a cackle, grabbing onto Jin’s waist to hold herself up as she fell backwards. He struggled to get a good grip on her without her spilling her drink all over his flowy ruffled shirt. 

“Can you please at least attempt to stand on your own? You look like-” 

Jin’s mouth hung open and his eyes grew wide as he looked at you. You matched his shocked face, wondering what you might have done to make him look like he’d seen a ghost. But before you could question him, you heard a sweet voice speak behind you. 

“Y/N, you take your clothes off when you get drunk?” 

You turned around a bit too quickly and felt your brain slosh inside your skull. You almost thought you were imagining things when your eyes landed on your roommate in a firefighter costume. Jimin was shirtless, and his abs somehow looked even more toned than they had those many weeks ago on that disaster of a night. He wore black shorts that accentuated his muscular thighs, with red suspenders that were strapped tightly against his pec muscles. He looked like he’d walked straight out of a porno. 

“Holy shit, Jimin, you look hot,” Nikki blurted out, finally standing on her own two feet without the help of Jin. She would pull herself together if it meant being able to check out a cute guy. 

You and Jin both struggled to snap your mouths shut once more, eyes following Jimin as he stepped closer. 

“Thanks,” he grinned, and you felt like your legs were going to give out. The feeling only intensified when you felt Jimin’s warm, strong hands hold your bare waist for a second as he moved past you in the tight hallway. “Excuse me, princess.” You sucked in your breath at the pet name and locked eyes with Jimin. He gave you the most innocent smile when he saw the look on your face. “Nice costume.” 

Right. Because you were dressed like Princess Tiana . A princess. 

“I need to get caught up on all the drinking. I’m too sober right now.” And with that Jimin was on his way. 

“Look at his back muscles. Look at his back muscles,” Nikki hissed, barely waiting until Jimin was out of earshot. She pressed a hand against her forehead and sighed. “I’m burning up. Maybe I need Jimin to put out my fire.” 

“Your boyfriend is quite literally in the other room,” Jin pointed out, making Nikki dramatically roll her eyes. 

“It was a joke, Jin.” 

“Sure it was.” 

The two began to drunkenly bicker, carrying their silly argument out into the living room where the other guests were drinking and dancing in preparation for the fraternity houses. You didn’t realize how long you stood in the hallway with your cup raised to your lips, eyes trained on the threshold Jimin had walked through to get to the kitchen. You should have never agreed to let him invite his friends over to pregame as well. You should have told him there would be too many vampires, that he should go find a different room to pregame in. 

Giving your body a little shake, you tried to walk a straight line to the kitchen to find Jimin standing a bit too close to another guy, someone you vaguely recognized as one of his dance team members. The guy was much taller than him, with sandy blonde hair and dimples set so deeply in his cheeks when he smiled that you almost swooned. He was dressed in fitting scrubs that accentuated his muscles, a stethoscope around his neck. Your stomach churned when you watched the guy loop his finger around Jimin’s suspenders, pulling him close to whisper something in his ear. Whatever he said made Jimin bite his bottom lip. 

“Jimin,” you called out, determined to break up whatever the fuck that was, though you weren’t sure why you felt that way. 

Eyes wide like he’d been caught, Jimin took a step back from the other man and turned to you. “Yeah?” 

“Are you going to Sig Nu with us?” 

He nodded slowly. “Namjoon’s in Sigma Nu.” He jutted a thumb at his friend and the man gave you a large grin.

Ignoring Namjoon, you kept your eyes on Jimin. “Just… Please be careful, okay? Crazy shit always happens at that house.” 

“Thank you,” he smiled. “But I think I’ll be fine.” You hated the way Namjoon smirked at your concerns, catching Jimin’s eye. 

You couldn’t question Jimin any further because Jin started rounding up everyone in your dorm to smash themselves like sardines into the kitchen, screaming his rendition of Shots, Lil Jon’s part, of course. You couldn’t help but laugh; Jin really loved his early 2000’s bangers. 

After having one too many shots of your own, you vaguely remembered getting to the frat house. It was all a blur of you and Nikki holding each other up, singing along to some other terrible pop music as you skipped down the road, your army of friends following around you. In your drunkenness you’d lost track of Jimin, but you decided that you didn’t care. He could have his dance team friend with the muscles and the stethoscope. You did not care. 

“Nikki, I need to have sex,” you declared into your friend’s ear. The two of you stood in the corner of the kitchen, filling up on drinks. 

“With me?” 

“What? No!” you gasped. “Wait… Do you want to have sex with me?” 

“No! I was just making sure I knew what you were talking about!” 

The two of you bursted into a fit of giggles, catching the attention of a few frat guys passing through. 

“You look fucking hot and you’re in a house full of horny college boys. Just go out there and shake a lil ass. Someone will swoop you up.” 

“I guess…” Random hookups weren’t your thing at all, but maybe this was what you needed. You hadn’t had sex in a really long time; perhaps an orgasm could reset your brain. 

“Go! Please let me live vicariously through you since Jin won’t let me be a freak.” Nikki gave you a hearty slap on the ass and pushed you into the main room where everyone was dancing. 

With alcohol flowing through you, it was easy to get lost in the feeling of the music and the heavy air inside the house, sticky with the scent of sweat and beer. Nikki hadn’t been wrong; it didn’t take long for you to feel hands slide along your sides, fingers brushing your exposed midriff before each hand settled on grabbing your hips. Whoever the man was used his grip on your hips to pull you backwards against his chest. With your eyes closed, you leaned your head against the man’s chest and girated with him to the music, grinding your ass on his crotch to feel it already semi-hard as his hands tickled the smooth skin of your hips. Dancing with strangers was a normal part of frat parties. Although you were always careful about your surroundings, being intoxicated definitely loosened you up a bit, and you were more willing to agree to things that were a bit less logical. 

You felt lips brush against your earlobe and the man’s breath against your neck sent a tingling sensation down to your core. He was human. You could feel his pulse pressed against your shoulder blades. 

“Y/N,” the man spoke into your ear just loud enough for you to hear over the loud music and your eyes shot open. 

“Jimin…” you inhaled shakily, pausing your dancing. 

“I’ve missed you,” he said with a sigh, dipping his head down to press his lips against the soft spot of your jaw below your ear. 

You shivered, his mouth searing your skin with a heat that made your senses go feral. Where was all this coming from? You knew Jimin had been confident with you in the past, but this was a whole different level of boldness. You’d never been so close to him before, let alone have him kissing you. 

“No you haven’t. We were literally pregaming in our dorm an hour ago. You’re just drunk.” 

“Yeah, but we never spend time together,” he protested against your skin. You felt his right hand glide to your front to play with the hem of your skirt. You finally turned around to look at him, his hand now resting on your ass. You could feel his growing erection against your thigh.  

“Park Jimin.” Whatever threat you had for him had dissolved on your tongue the moment you met his dark eyes. You were pressed against his bare chest, the skin of your stomach meeting his. His cheeks were puffy with a smile and bright red from being flushed due to the alcohol pumping through his system. A bit of perspiration was making his face shiny and his pink bangs were brushed up, exposing more of his forehead. 

“Yes?” He grinned with his teeth, the lights of the party dancing in his bloodshot eyes.  

Out of the corner of your eye you saw Nikki watching the two of you with raised eyebrows. “I can’t…” You turned back to Jimin. “We can’t.” You couldn’t bring yourself to finish your sentence, but it didn’t matter. 

You quickly detached yourself from Jimin’s hold and rushed towards Nikki, refusing to look back. You needed to get away from the sound of his heart, the sweet smell of his skin, the tantalizing memory of the sounds beating from his bedroom those many weeks ago. He was too dangerous; you couldn’t trust yourself around him anymore. 

“Umm, what was that?” Nikki grabbed your arm and pulled you off to the side of the room, away from the sea of horny, grinding college students. 

“He’s been flirting with me for months,” you blurted out, the alcohol making you finally fess up. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?!” You could hear the hurt in Nikki’s voice, but you couldn’t worry about that right now. 

“You don’t get it,” you pleaded with her. “I can’t do this anymore, Nikki. He’s… he’s too much.” 

Nikki crossed her arms against her chest and gave you a hard look. It was usually you who was the one to be shooting daggers with your eyes, but this time Nikki was taking control. 

“You literally just said you wanted to go find someone to have sex with,” she challenged you. 

“He’s a human,” you spoke in a strained, exasperated tone. 

Nikki shot her angry glare off to the side to discourage some gross frat boy from walking in your direction. “Fuck off, we’re talking, okay?” 

She turned back to you, “Yeah, no shit. Who cares? He wants you, you obviously want him. I know you, Y/N. You think you’re a bitch, but you’re a genuinely good person. You won’t hurt him.” 

You scoffed, but it was half-hearted. Nikki’s eyes softened a bit as she watched you, reaching out to take your hand. “If you would just stop being such a hardass and accept him for what he is, you might find that you actually like him…” 

“Oh shut up, you’re drunk.” 

“So?? You know my best advice and wisdom comes out when I’m drunk!” Nikki punched you in the arm and threw her head back in an eruption of laughter. You could practically feel Jin pushing through the crowd to find her, as if her laugh was his alert that Nikki was probably going to fall over at any moment. 

You chewed on your bottom lip, twisting your hands together. Maybe Nikki was right. Maybe you’d been freaking out too much. Sure, Jimin had some weird fascination with vampires, but a lot of humans did. And sure, he was quite literally mouthwatering, but Nikki knew you better than anyone else in the world, and she knew you would never harm another person (if they didn’t deserve it). Jimin was gentle and trustworthy. 

“Fuck it,” you hissed, dropping your hands and spinning around to where Jimin had stood. But, of course, he was nowhere to be found. You waved down Jin who’d passed through the sea of people. 

“Can you watch Nikki?” you asked him. 

Nikki punched you again. “Hey, I don’t need a babysitter!” 

Jin rolled his eyes and wrapped a firm arm around his friend. You gave him a small smile in thanks and began to walk away. But you paused, turning for a second. 

“Do you know where Jimin is?” 

Jin cocked his head to one side and gave you a long stare. “I saw him go upstairs with Celeste.” Jin barely got the fellow vampire’s name out of his mouth before you were pushing your way through the living room of the frat house, finding the front stairs and hurrying up them, not caring who might try to look up your skirt as you went. 

Celeste was a psychopath. You were absolutely sure of it. Ever since humans were allowed into the university, she had been seen luring human men into her clutches more than once. And they always walked away completely ruined or absolutely obsessed with her. She was playing them like Barbie dolls, putting them under her spell. And it wasn’t just sex. You knew she was drinking from them. Everyone knew. 

The music was muted upstairs which made it a bit easier to listen for voices as you crept down the hallway. You stopped at each bedroom door, leaning close to listen for, well, anything. So far, every room you peeked into was unoccupied - which was surprising for a frat party. The longer it took, the more anxiety built up inside of your chest. You tried not to think about what might be happening between Jimin and Celeste because the deeper your brain got sucked into those thoughts, the more you wanted to throw up. 

Pull yourself together, you scolded yourself. Maybe you should have left Jimin alone. He was an adult; he could take care of himself. What he did was none of your business. 

You’d almost convinced yourself that all of that was true until you heard a familiar giggle from the bedroom to your left. You lunged for the doorknob and felt like crying when you found it locked. You could technically rip the thing off, but that wouldn’t be very polite to whoever’s bedroom it was. 

“Sorry, this room is taken!” you heard Celeste’s sing-songy voice attempt to push you away. 

“Open the fucking door, Celeste,” you hissed, rattling the doorknob. “Don’t make me have to rip it the fuck off. I bet Suyoon wouldn’t be very happy with you.” Suyoon, her boyfriend and president of Sigma Nu. Celeste really was trash. 

You heard a loud sigh and suddenly the door was being flung open. The other vampire was donning a slutty maid outfit, her boobs pushed up so far they were practically in her face. You looked around her to see Jimin sitting on the edge of the bed, and for once he actually looked mad at you. 

“What do you want, Y/N?” Celeste snapped her fingers in your face to get your attention. You wanted to fucking bite them off. 

“Jimin, we’re leaving,” you commanded, ignoring Celeste. 

“So now you want me around?” Jimin sneered. It was the expression he gave you, and less the words, that stung. You shot him the dirtiest look you could muster and bared your fangs with a low hiss.

“We. Are. Fucking. Leaving.” 

“Jimin, you don’t have to listen to her,” Celeste cooed, walking back to stand beside Jimin. She lifted his chin to have him look into her eyes, stretching his neck all the way out. “You want to stay here with me, don’t you?” 

The air in the room grew cold and you felt a heavy weight press down on your chest. It was then that you realized what she was doing. She was hypnotizing him. 

“Celeste, stop it!” You pushed the other vampire, causing her to stumble backwards and break her connection with Jimin. “You’re not allowed to manipulate the humans’ minds.” 

Giving Jimin an apologetic look, you slapped him in the face as hard as you could without severely injuring him. “Ow, what the fuck?” he cursed, holding his hand to his cheek. 

Shaking your head, you grabbed his arm and hauled him to his feet, ignoring the way steam was practically shooting from Celeste’s ears. She couldn’t do or say anything; she knew she was in the wrong, and there was too much she could fuck up if she kept pushing her luck. So she watched you drag Jimin out of the room in silence, her arms crossed against her chest. 

“Why did you slap me?” he pouted, still rubbing his cheek. You led him down the stairs and pushed him through the front door. The cool October air was a welcomed reprieve from the stuffiness of the frat house. You maneuvered through groups of people loitering in the front yard until you reached the sidewalk. It was then that you finally let go of your death drip on Jimin’s arm. 

“Celeste was fucking with your brain,” you said simply. You clenched your jaw, working your molars into each other, and tried to focus on the walk to your dorm instead of the man who followed you. 

“Maybe I wanted her to.” 

You stopped in your tracks and grabbed onto one of Jimin’s suspenders, pulling him close to your face. “She was going to drain you until you’re barely clinging to life and then blame someone else for it, just like she did that kid who went to the hospital last month. You know that kid?” Jimin nodded his head, eyes wide as he stared at your mouth. “Everyone said he got alcohol poisoning but you can’t believe shit that comes out her mouth. She’s evil, Jimin. And you’re stupid.” 

You let him go, the suspender snapping against his bare skin and causing him to yelp. “So next time I have to save your ass from a psychopath, you better fucking listen to me.” 

The two of you spent the rest of the walk in silence. You sent a text to Nikki to let her know that you’d made it to your dorm safely, and then you shoved Jimin through the door, slamming it shut a bit too aggressively. 

“Drink some water,” you commanded gruffly. You held onto the wall to steady yourself as you took off your heels, eyes still glaring at Jimin when he met your gaze. This was exactly why Nikki’s encouragement was stupid. Vampires and humans were just incompatible. 

You could not believe you’d really thought about fucking him. 

You gingerly tiptoed down the hall to your bedroom, feet sore from the uncomfortable shoes. They were the least of your worries. You felt like you’d just hopped off an emotional rollercoaster, head still spinning and your legs trying to remember how to walk. Despite feeling absolutely disgusting, you couldn’t bring yourself to take a shower. It felt like too much effort, so you opted for stripping your costume off and pulling a baggy t-shirt on. Figuring you’d at least brush your teeth, you stepped back into the hallway. 

Before you could enter the bathroom, you felt Jimin’s arm snake around your waist, pulling you against him. “Thank you,” he said slowly, drawing his bottom lip into his teeth for a moment. “Thank you for looking out for me.” 

“It’s what friends are for, right?” Your body tensed in his embrace, and you couldn’t meet his gaze. The more time you spent with Jimin, the harder it was to understand him. 

“I don’t want you to be my friend,” Jimin breathed, his voice barely above a whisper. “I want you to touch me.” 

“What?” You swallowed thickly, eyes shooting up to look at him. 

“I want you to touch me… here.” He took your hand and placed it against his neck, pressing your fingertips into the skin above his pulse. You let out a shaky breath as you felt his heart beat against your fingers. 

“And here...” He dragged your hand from his neck down the length of his naked chest. “...and here…” He pressed your hand against the hard bulge in his pants. Curling his fingers, he wrapped your hand around his cock over his pants. Tightening your fingers beneath his, Jimin bucked into your palm slightly. His eyes never once left yours, and you watched his mouth slowly part. A light whine left his lips when he squeezed your hand around himself even harder. Holding his stare as he jacked himself off with your hand was proving to be too much for you. You could feel your pussy begin to throb, your arousal a burning heat between your thighs. It was the only time you really felt warm, felt alive. 

“I brought Imani over on purpose,” he said in a low voice, hand still moving yours back and forth. “I thought it might make you jealous.” 

“Ohh…” Your fingers reached a damp spot in the front of Jimin’s pants and his heartbeat quickened. 

“Sometimes I think you think I’m more oblivious than I really am,” he said with a small laugh, a twinkle in his eye that wasn’t there before; however, it quickly diffused into something much darker. “I know you heard me.” 

You halted the movements of your hand and willed yourself to get a grip on the situation. How had you so easily fallen into Jimin’s trap? 

“What are you talking about…” you questioned slowly, pulling your hand away from him. 

Jimin leaned into you further, closing the space you’d created between the two of you. “I know you heard me in my room when Imani left,” he whispered, licking his lips. “Touching myself. Do you know what I was thinking about?” 

You stayed silent and the realization that you weren’t going to speak made Jimin laugh again. 

“You,” he finally spoke once more. “I was thinking about you. Imagining you were the one biting my neck.” 

It felt like your legs were going to give out beneath you, but you stiffened your body to hold yourself together. There was no way you were going to give in that easily, no matter what Nikki said. 

“Need I remind you that you were about to fuck Celeste not even half an hour ago?” you snapped. You’d never been interested in anyone who considered you disposable. Replaceable. 

Jimin shrugged, his face going soft for a split second. “Celeste isn’t you, though.” 

You were at a loss for words. Jimin ran his nose up the length of your neck, stopping to nibble on your earlobe. It was insane how his gestures weren’t anything big; he hadn’t even attempted to kiss you or touch your body more than what he’d done at the party. So how were these small actions already unraveling you? 

“Bite me, Y/N. Please.” Jimin was practically begging. He slotted one of his legs between yours and ground his erection up into your thighs, your t-shirt pushed up to reveal your underwear.  

Despite what people may have thought about your tough demeanor, you’d never drank a person’s blood aside from during your coming of age ceremony. You were scared. Scared of becoming the monster society wanted so badly to make you out to be. 

“You’re drunk.” The argument was feeble and you both knew it. Jimin was probably more sober than you were at this point. 

“I want this,” he pushed on. “I want you.” He grabbed the back of your head and finally crashed his lips into yours. They were so fucking silky it made your chest ache for how many months you’d gone not knowing their caress. He forced you to swallow the softest of moans you’d ever heard in your life. Jimin’s moans sounded like the sigh of an angel, but the high pitched edge of lust that made the moan draw out against your mouth was what reminded you that this was anything but innocent. No matter how sweet Jimin looked. 

You felt his tongue slip inside of your mouth and the tip of it ran along the sharp point of one of your fangs. Jimin pressed his tongue just hard enough to prick it, causing the tiniest bit of blood to leak into your mouth.

Your eyes flew open and you shoved Jimin away from you. 

“Jimin, what the fuck…” You swallowed, but the taste of his blood was like thick nectar coating the inside of your mouth. “You did that on purpose.” 

“I did,” he grinned, grabbing a fistfull of your t-shirt to pull you close again. You wanted to slap the smirk off Jimin’s face, but your body took over and you found yourself latched onto him again. You wrapped your lips around his tongue and sucked on it. 

“Do it,” Jimin pulled away, pupils blown out and face flushed pink. “You want it. I see it in your eyes.” 

Your brain screamed for you to stop, but your body backed Jimin up until his legs hit your bed. You pushed his shoulders down so he was sitting on the edge of the bed, giving you better access to his upper body since he was so much taller than you standing. 

“If it hurts too much… push me away, okay? You have to push me away.” Your hands trembled as you tilted his head back and to the side, red eyes zeroing in on his pulse under his skin. And with that you plunged your fangs into the soft skin of Jimin’s neck. 

You weren’t sure which one of you moaned, but it was carnal, feral. It was a cry that came from pure animalistic instinct. For a moment you forgot all about Jimin. Your mind was completely blank aside from the taste of him in your mouth. You lapped up his blood with so much fervor you were making obscene sounds echo through the bedroom. 

“Fuck Jimin,” you moaned into his skin. “You taste so good.” 

Nothing could have prepared you for the whimper that fell from his plump lips or the way he began to pant with need. You pulled away to see his eyes flutter and roll back in his head, lost in an ecstasy only you could bring him. Oddly, there was something empowering in that. You felt yourself swell with a smug pride in knowing you had this man weakly trembling under your touch. 

“More,” he asked hoarsely. 

Pushing Jimin onto his back, you climbed on top of him to straddle his legs. You leaned down and pressed a hot kiss against his chest before dragging your fangs along the ripples of his abdomen, leaving small scratch marks barely deep enough to draw the smallest amount of blood. You swiftly dipped your head to run your tongue along the muscles, licking up any blood that rose to the surface. The pinprick of pain made Jimin whimper again and he squirmed beneath your touch. 

He grabbed one of your hands and pressed it against his neck, closing your fingers like he did when he made you grab his cock. “Choke me.”

“You’re a disgusting slut,” you said in response to his request, but Jimin only smiled. He stared down at you, eyes clouded with lust and the euphoria of your venom. 

“Tell me how you really feel.” 

You did as he wanted and tried to ignore the way the action was causing heat to pool in your core. Your fingers turned red as you squeezed him, testing out pressure until you found a force that had him groaning. He reached to unclasp the firefighter suspenders and raised his hips to help you pull off his shorts. You knew his cock was massive; you’d seen the outline that fateful night with Imani and you’d felt some of it in your hands with Jimin’s guidance. But to feel it brush against your thigh, smearing precum on your skin as you moved down the length of Jimin’s body was something else. 

“More, Y/N.” 

You bit the inside of his thigh and Jimin cried out in pain, though his cries quickly turned into a symphony of moans as you swirled your tongue along his sensitive skin to soothe it. 

“Fuck yes,” he shuddered, panting heavily. He reached down to wrap your hair around his hands so he could watch your lips suck on his skin. You were finally realizing what was going on. Sure, Jimin clearly liked riding the high that came with a vampire bite, but there was more to it. He liked the pain. 

“Oh my god, you are a disgusting slut,” you exhaled, lifting your head to look at him. “And I thought this whole time you were…” 

“Innocent? Curious? Stupid?” Jimin grinned and you felt crushed by the weight of your own stupidity for reading him so wrong. 

Ignoring his smug attitude, you returned your focus to his body. Taking one of his nipples between your fingers, you pinched it hard. Jimin jerked but let out a loud moan. Then you scraped your nails down his sides, scratching hot red stripes into his skin. Sweet sounds fell from Jimin’s lips the harder you scratched him, eventually digging your nails into his hips as you pressed kisses everywhere except where you knew he wanted you to. 

There was no way you were sucking his dick, no matter how kinky he was. Fangs and blowjobs weren’t a good combination. 

Breathing hard, you sat back on your knees and stared at the man beneath you. Jimin’s eyes were dark and blown out, and his body was coated in a mist of sweat. Red splotches were smeared along his torso and thigh. You lifted the back of your hand to run it across your lips, noting the red on your skin, too. 

“Are you okay?” you asked slowly, leaning forward to touch his neck. The venom had healed the wounds already, so Jimin looked a lot worse off than he actually was. Your main concern was how much blood you’d taken from him. 

Rather than answer your question, Jimin grabbed your hips and bucked himself into you. You cried out when you felt his cock rub against your clothed pussy. 

“Please, Y/N,” Jimin rasped. “Please let me fuck you. I need to feel you around my cock.” 

“Where the fuck did this dirty mouth come from?” you teased. So maybe having him beg was even better than hearing him moan. You couldn’t act like you were immune to him, though. Your underwear was so soaked through it was becoming uncomfortable. You sat back again to rip off your remaining clothes, your ego swelling up even more as you watched Jimin prop himself up so he could take in your naked form. 

“I can hear your heart starting to beat faster,” you taunted him. You rolled your hips against his, rubbing your dripping cunt along his cock. Jimin threw his head back and let out a low cry, doing his best to lie still for you. 

“You don’t know how badly I’ve wanted this.” He reached between your bodies to cup your pussy, coating his fingers with your arousal. “I wanted to fuck the shit out of you the moment I met you.” Jimin plunged two fingers inside of you, the force knocking you forward. You bit back a moan as he roughly pumped his fingers into you, all the while watching your face twist and contort as you struggled to hold off the climax that was threatening to push you over the edge. How were you about to come just from his fingers? 

Sensing your tension, Jimin wrapped his other arm around your waist to press your body against him as he continued fingerfucking you. “I want you to scream my name,” he whispered into your ear. “I want you to scream and cry until you can’t fucking talk.” 

How was this the same timid boy who’d shown up at your door a few short months ago? 

Jimin’s open palm came down so hard on your ass you felt your body jolt forward in pain. When he slapped you a second time, he did so at the same moment your resolve finally broke. You felt your walls gush around his fingers and you did everything he’d wanted - you screamed his name into the crook of his neck so loudly you were sure your neighbors could hear you. 

“Does someone else have a pain kink?” Jimin mused, and you shot him a glare once you could trust yourself to lift up from where you’d collapsed on his chest. 

“No. I’m not a freak like you.” 

“Seems like you could be.” 

“You’re impossible. I can’t believe-” You were unable to finish your sentence when Jimin lifted you off of him. He tossed you back onto the bed, hooking his arm around your stomach to lift your hips up so you were on your knees. 

“Why are you always so mean to me?” Jimin purred in your ear, his chest pressed into your back. His fingers returned to your dripping folds, teasing your clit simply because he liked the way it made your thighs shake. 

“Because you’re an annoying asshole,” you stuttered, attempting to lift your head to look back at him. But he gently pushed your head back down so your cheek was pressed into the mattress. Then he ran his hands along your back, holding you in place as you felt the tip of his cock prod your entrance. 

“I’m nothing but sweet.” You could practically hear the smile he was giving you. “But I’m also tired of waiting for you.” And with that he pushed into you. The squelch your soaking pussy made when he eased in reminded you of the sounds you’d heard from your bedroom. The memory, paired with the knowledge that now it was you pleasuring him, made you choke out a moan. 

“Ohh my god,” you squealed, absolutely appalled by the girly sounds coming from you, but you couldn’t help it. 

“You like that?” Another hard slap, this time on your thigh. 

“F-fuck you, Park Jimin.” 

“That’s always been the end goal.” 

You wanted to knock the cockiness out of his voice, but Jimin had brought your wrists around to hold them against your lower back to steady himself. This meant you didn’t have any way to keep yourself up, your body swaying back and forth against the mattress. 

Jimin’s hips snapped against your ass in a steady rhythm, his moans harmonizing with the lewd sounds of skin on skin. Your head was reeling from how vocal he was. It was probably the hottest part of the whole thing; you’d never been with a guy who was so willing to express himself, to beg. The fact that Jimin could switch between being so submissive and then taking control to blow your back out was heavenly. 

It didn’t take long for you to feel another climax coming on, especially once Jimin began rubbing circles against your clit as he pounded into you. You clenched around him, hard, and Jimin jolted slightly. 

“Goddam, Y/N,” he whimpered, attempting to find his pace once again. “You better fucking hurry up and come ‘cause I’m about to lose it.” 

“Wow, you’re so considerate,” you hissed, but a slap to your thigh shut you up. It only took a few more thrusts into your g-spot before you were falling apart again, relying on his hand pressed into your stomach to hold you up as your legs shook when he kept slamming into you. 

“Fuck, you feel that?” Jimin released your wrists to grab one of your hands. He pushed your hand against your abdomen and you felt it bulge every time his cock rammed into your body. “Fuckkkk…” His pace picked up, slamming into you even harder than before. “Y/N, where should I…” Jimin whined the unfinished question. 

“Inside,” you breathed. Though your words were simply an answer to his question, it was as though they were a command. Jimin immediately let himself go, painting your walls with his release. He fell onto you and the both of you sunk into the mattress. 

“I feel like I’m floating on a cloud,” Jimin grinned, puffy cheeks and all. 

You slapped his chest and hated the knowledge that he probably liked it. “You’re just high.” 

“I know. It’s great.” 

The two of you laid there, waiting for your breathing to calm down. You could not believe you fucked a human. Let him nut inside of you, even. What kind of a slut were you? At least you didn’t kill him like you thought you would. 

“I guess you have your answer now.” You stared up at the ceiling, not wanting to look at him any longer. You were just an experiment, an opportunity to taste fruit that had been forbidden his entire life. 

“What do you mean?” Jimin turned onto his side to watch you. 

“If vampire bites feel good. Now you know. I’m sure you’ll want to stick to fucking vampires from now on.” You’d imagine humans couldn’t have quite the same effect, though you couldn’t deny how Jimin had just rocked your fucking world. You had a feeling it was a Jimin thing, rather than a human thing. 

“I guess I will.” 

Your mind flashed to Celeste, but you attempted to stomp the thought out of existence. “Yeah.” 

Jimin brushed his fingers along your stomach, gliding lower until he was stroking the inside of your thigh. You tensed, feeling your body become aroused once more despite the ache from being pummeled after not having sex for so long. 

“Next time I want to eat you out,” he murmured in your ear. “I bet you taste good.” 

You held your breath as Jimin’s fingers inched closer to your core. There was going to be a next time? 

“And then I want to feel those lips wrapped around my cock. I’ll even let you nibble a little,” he said with a breathy laugh that made you shiver.

“You sure you don’t want to try out something new? I heard Celeste’s bite is pleasurable enough to get people hooked,” you said spitefully, your eyes still on the ceiling. There was no denying your possessiveness over him. It had been there from the very beginning, even when Nikki made her jokes. You’d thought it was a strange desire to protect him due to his naivety, but now you were wondering if there was more to it. 

“I already told you.” Jimin moved so he was hovering on top of you, his hands on either side of your head. You felt his semi-hard cock rub against your wetness. “I want you. Nobody else.” 

When you still avoided his gaze he pressed on. “This was never only about chasing some high, Y/N. You’ve made me feel good since the beginning. You just have this thing about you… I don’t know. Maybe ‘cause you’re so mean and I like it.” He gave you a small smile and you knew from living with him for many months that he was teasing, but still genuine. 

“So now what? If I’m meant to believe you.” Forever the skeptic. 

“And you should believe me,” he pointed out. He watched your face for a moment before rolling his hips into yours, making you gasp at how hard he was again. “But for now, maybe I want to ask you to be my girlfriend, and if you say yes maybe I’ll fuck you again until you can’t walk to class in the morning.” 

Well, how could you say no to that?

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