#jungkook tragedy | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

onlyswan · 1 year

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summary: in which you make jungkook’s world spin and you tend to… make him a little too dizzy.

> idol!jungkook x reader / est. relationship, fluff, angst / word count: 7k

> content/warnings: yea shirtless jungkook should be a warning… one (1) spank then he kisses it better, also gives a kiss to that lil bow on oc’s undies >:( + a flashback of oc crying and him getting stressed out bcs oc is a careless brat fr

> in which masterlist!

note: hehe i’m here <3 this drabble is basically just oc in a mood and jungkook being the sweetest bf ever 🤨 idk how it got this long either heh it didn’t feel that way at all while i wrote-edited? but i hope u enjoy and i’d love to hear ur thoughts 🥺 reblogs/feedback are appreciated !! <3

—

“oh my god- fuck!”

you cover your mouth in shock, squeezing your eyes shut and flinching at the ear-splitting sound that bounces off the walls of the apartment.

jungkook is rendered frozen, eyebrows furrowed and jaw slacked, staring down at his shirt largely stained by the chocolate milk you were walking around with after brunch.

“damn…”

his eyes are irritable when they communicate with yours.

“baby! really? did it have to be the white one?”

but seconds later, they become worried and calculating — wandering all over the tiled floor, and then your bare feet infront of his slides-clad ones, surrounded by shattered pieces of ceramic.

the collateral damage. an unforeseen tragedy.

suffice to say, jungkook woke up this morning blissfully unaware of the turbulent storm threatening to make a playground out of your mind. it’s craving to feed destruction, and here he is living with you under the same roof, an unfortunate casualty from your antics.

the hand-painted mug, wet from the condensation, slipped away from your hands when you accidentally collided with his tough build at the intersection of the living room and the kitchen. this… wasn’t part of the plan. the plan was a little spill and this is a landslide.

“that was expensive too.” you utter wistfully, chest deflating as you release an exasperated breath. “sorry. i’ll clean up everything. just stay there and i’ll- when did i last see the broom-”

his doe eyes grow two times its size when you start looking around the apartment in search of the broom, and perhaps something you can use to pat yourself and jungkook dry, causing your feet to unconsciously shift on the treacherous ground.

“ba-baby! don’t move! you’re going to hurt yourself. are you crazy?” he interrupts you with a hiss, voice stern as his hands curl around your arms to hold you steady. “it’s okay. this is nothing, i’m not mad… just stay still, understand?”

you nod slowly as he lets go, eyebrows knitting together to convey confusion when he starts pulling his shirt over his head, revealing miles of bare skin and planes of defined muscles on a perfect silhouette. perfect because it’s jungkook.

alright… to see him half-naked wasn’t one of your intentions, but you’re definitely not one to complain.

“tsk, i think i need to shower again.”

figuring that the internet has a solution to every problem one could think of, jungkook has decided to accept the horror that has happened to his shirt. what was it again? salt? vinegar? baking soda? powder? fuck it, he’ll search for it later.

he throws caution to the wind by using it to wipe his damp torso, brushing it over his tan skin glistening with a sheen of the liquid that you wittingly spilled. he winces at the uncomfortable stickiness that could be felt across his stomach, but he can’t help but to laugh when he sees how it further accentuated his abs.

and if only you were in a chipper mood today, you would be laughing along with him. would’ve taken over cleaning him up, apologized with a kiss on his waist. too bad you’re not.

eventually, he gives up on erasing on the feeling, proceeding to fold the shirt in halves.

“what are you doing?” you snap, putting on a guise of harsher irritation over your dreamy stares at your boyfriend’s glorious physique. “are we just supposed to stand here forever like idiots?”

“what is this? why are you so grumpy today?” he questions with a frown, patting your cheek with the soft cottony fabric because the splash managed to reach your face unbeknownst to you.

and then he bends down to place the folded shirt infront of your feet, looking up to you with his galaxy-filled eyes to say, “here- come on. stand here while i clean up.”

you stand isolated on the safe zone he created, childishly pouting with your arms crossed over chest as you wait for him to pick up your slippers in the bedroom.

the simple answer to jungkook’s question is you’re bored and in a bad mood. the more complex answer would be you came up with a one-man game you can only win if you successfully piss your boyfriend off, but you’re too scared to pull off anything that will legitimately make him upset with you.

because the last time you made him angry, it hasn’t been… that long ago. he’s been keeping a closer eye on you since then, and you’ve been trying to be good. keyword being trying. after all, you did lost his car key… at a beach three hours away from home. you searched the entire shore — retraced your steps, made your knees and palms bleed digging through the rocky sand, curled up by the waves to wallow in self-blame and the smell of salt-air defeat. you were nearly in tears as you listened to the call ring for what felt like an eternity, unsure if he already wrapped up the company meeting he mentioned to you the day before.

you still remember the desperate words you greeted him with instead of ‘hello’.

“babe, promise me you won’t be mad.”

—

“____, you didn’t even tell me you were coming here! care to explain that to me first? huh?”

your name, and not ‘baby’? heavens above have mercy; you’re fucked.

jungkook presses the heels of his palms over his eyes to alleviate the dull throbbing of his head, breathing heavily to compose himself, but he can’t disguise the frustration deeply embedded in his voice.

“you scared me!”

not yelling, but tone evidently very upset with you. somehow, that makes you feel worse.

“i had to make up an excuse infront of everyone and drive here fast. i was so worried of you being here all alone when it gets dark!”

“it’s your car so i thought i had to let you know right away. i’m sorry.” you chew at your bottom lip anxiously, eyes brimming with tears as you barely muster up the courage to observe how he’s handling this.

your heart pounds louder in your chest when he finally looks down at you, guilty and gloomy, sat on a wooden bench painted yellow. it drops to your stomach when you see the sullen expression painting his face a light shade of red.

“where did you lose it?”

you open your mouth, but no words come out. you can only manage to point at the shore with your disoriented eyes, and he traces the direction with his. the majestic orange sky where the sun descends below the horizon fails to be recognized by your foggy, distracted minds.

it’s silent for a few beats, then he huffs, breathing out a sarcastic chuckle before burying his face in hands.

“baby, please. please. are you sure you’re not pranking me right now?”

“no! do you think i’d joke like this? i really tried my best to find it!” you sniffle, roughly wiping away the lone tear that escapes your eye. you’re almost too humiliated to continue talking, volume falling a few notches above a whisper. “but the waves were getting stronger.”

he vehemently shakes his head, rendered speechless and stuttering, malfunctioning. he doesn’t think he has ever imagined this type of scenario before. “this is crazy. really… this is unbelievable… how did this even happen?”

he exhales loudly before removing his hands, revealing a calmer exterior. be that as it may, his skin is more flushed, all the way to his ears and down to his neck, where his veins have become noticeably prominent.

“i mean, what else can we do about it? i’ll request for a new one.”

“but are we just going to leave the car here?”

“did you leave anything in there?”

“i left my bag, but…” you pat the pockets of your skirt to check if your valuables didn’t meet the same fate as the car key. “i brought my phone and wallet with me.”

he nods. “then i’ll call a towing service.”

you pout.

“it’s such a bother.”

feeling exhausted after burning a concerning amount of energy in search of the missing item, you stand on wobbly feet to loop your arms around his waist.

maybe it’s to coax him into forgiving you. maybe it’s to make yourself feel better, nuzzle your face on his chest to drive away the anxiety weighing on your shoulders. but as it’s being lifted off, so is the barrier withholding your salty tears.

“i’m so careless. i’m sorry. i’m sorry. i should’ve drove my car instead.”

“ye- no, that’s not…” he cuts himself off with a sigh.

he puts an arm around you, pushing his hair back and repeatedly carding his fingers through it out of habit.

“seriously, baby… you stress me out so much, do you know that? you’re always wandering around places you’re not familiar with… this is secluded. it’s dangerous. you could get hurt if you bump into the wrong people… really, i’m just relieved it’s not yourself that you lost this time!”

the recollection of old flashbacks playing in his mind like a movie reel elicits a throaty chuckle from him, low and rough, the vibrations of his chest rudely awakening the butterflies in your stomach.

“you couldn’t even send me a text. you didn’t turn on your location. i would’ve lost my fucking mind again… did you even thought of that? or is that what you wanted, huh? baby? you enjoy driving me crazy like this?”

and the confession tucked inside his scolding obliterates any coherent thoughts in your head, causing you to lose control of your whirlwind of emotions.

“this isn’t fair. you said you won’t be mad.” you wail out in response, tears fiercely leaking from your eyes akin to a rainstorm. “i didn’t know this would happen!”

he clicks his tongue, gingerly caressing your wet cheeks with his thumb, then with the rest of his fingers, and the paw of his jacket, because the streams just seem to have no plans of ceasing. his wide eyes worriedly scans your tear-stained face, heart squeezed painfully by the restrained sobs forcefully ripping themselves from your throat.

“shhh, shh. don’t cry- don’t cry. i’m not mad, i was just worried about you.”

“jungkook, you’re lying.” you whine. “don’t lie to me. i don’t like it.”

he slowly blinks at you, head hanging low as to compose his thoughts before he reconnects with your eyes. a faint smile tugs at the corners of his lips before his tongue unconsciously sweeps over them, its tip catching the silver ring piercing through his skin to play with it.

a moment of silence, thick with restlessness and anticipation, harder to breathe with the unique smell of the salt-air entering and leaving your lungs.

you feel small under his stoic gaze. you want to sit back down and cry harder.

your boyfriend is mad. your boyfriend is infuriatingly hot even when he’s disappointed in you. you need to dig a hole in the sand and live there forever. after everything, these are the only thoughts left running in your head.

“okay, fine. you lost the key of our car in the ocean, ____. but what if someone already found it by chance?” he cocks his head to the side, briefly peering at the road behind you.

he knows that it’s no use. even if he does see the white jeep wheeling by, is he supposed to assume that he can outrun it by some heaven-granted miracle?

“what then? hm…? what else can we do? i guess it could be getting stolen right now and we don’t even know. you parked so far away.”

god, please, not your favorite car.

“it’s not only the car. i still have important documents left in the compartment too.” this only dawns on him now, judging by the look of distress written on his face. he suddenly slaps his thigh, and you flinch a little. “fuck! i should’ve cleaned sooner!”

“then you are mad.” you arrive at a conclusion, chin wobbling as you sniffle. “about a lot of things.”

you resist the urge to stomp your feet. you want to throw a tantrum so bad. tell him that he shouldn’t be keeping such things in the car in the first place, that he owns a safe for fuck’s sake, but you know you can’t get away with shifting the blame because you messed up horribly in comparison.

“i get it. i’m sorry… i take full responsibility this time.”

“shit, baby.” he deeply sighs.

it becomes quiet again. he just looks at your face with knitted eyebrows, not saying anything more, and you try your best to cut off your crying, not to act conscious, but your eyes still fall on the sand. they stay there for a few beats to avoid the intensity of his gaze.

he almost sounds pained when he finally speaks. “how can i stay mad at you when you’re crying?”

he tilts up your chin, and your glassy eyes, sparkling with a new wave of tears, look at him beseechingly.

the setting sun. an eternal witness to a brand new day of humans being humans. it kisses your skin with its golden light, bathing your figure to radiate an angelic glow that drives him to consider once more that you could just be an enchanting character across dreams and the year is still 2017.

you sniffle again, brushing off his hand. sometimes you despise that jungkook brings out messiest, most unstable side of you. you know that he practically signed up for this, and he will always love you the same, love you even more. but that doesn’t take away the fact that you’re so embarrassed.

“but i’m not crying just to make you feel bad, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

“yah, that wasn’t what i meant?” he frowns, eyes softening at your reply. “of course. i know that.”

the cracks in your voice, he seals with a soft kiss on your lips, tender and swollen caused by the onslaught of your sharp teeth.

“anyway, i can take care of replacing it. i mean, it’s not like it can get stolen just like that, right…?”

he sounds rather nervous convincing the both of you.

“but i’m most worried about you. i can lose everything but you.” his tattooed arm pulls you closer, casting aside the tension by leaving not even an inch of space between your bodies. he tenderly rubs your back to console you, and another kiss is granted to your temple, his soothing voice slightly muffled as his lips stay glued to you. “did i make you cry? i’m sorry, baby, i’m sorry… it’s okay. things like this can happen.”

“no, i’m sorry.” you aggressively shake your head and he carries on with wiping your cheeks, the back of his hand brushing off the tears that drip across your chin. he dries his hand on the hem of his jacket only to get it wet all over again.

“let’s just learn from this and move on. promise me that you’ll be more careful next time, okay? you can do that, right?”

jungkook does scold you every now and then, but although you stress him out, he would hate it if he’s not the first person you call when you’re in trouble. he would hate it if you act nonchalant and secretly cry when you’re hurt. but most of all, he can’t imagine a life in which you don’t make his world spin, much as he tends to get too dizzy at times.

your defiant hum makes his tense shoulders drop in disappointment.

“there should be a bus stop somewhere, i’ll just go home on my own. i don’t want to keep stressing you out.”

you will yourself to break free from his embrace, dragging yourself away to leave behind a trail of footprints in the sand, and he knows he’ll be running after you today, too.

“oh? you better stop right there!” he warns with a hand over his hip.

you become smaller and smaller in his eyes with every tick of the clock, much like how the sun is gradually getting swallowed by the ocean.

“i’ll get angry for real if you disappear from my sight. really, i’m not joking!”

angry? what a joke. you know that he’d cry blood searching for you if you get lost.

“oh? you’re really not going to stop?!”

jungkook’s voice fall on deaf ears, except that of the dog leashed to a tree that stands infront of a humble home. it seethingly barks at him from many meters away.

“fucking shit. i need alcohol.” he chuckles to himself, rubbing his tired eyes. “____, i swear, you’re getting too stubborn these days. what should i do with you?”

but you’re too far away to hear him, and so, he answers himself.

“eh, it is what it is.”

the wind blows with a quiet whistle, deadly as it fuels the roaring waves.

“AH! nuh-uh!” he exclaims, jaw dropping in alarm when he sees an urgent reason to chase after you, putting those leg days at the gym to good use.

you jump, a squeak leaving your mouth when out of nowhere, a solicitous palm smooths over your behind, sliding down to the back of your thighs to hold down your rippling skirt.

but you’re determined to be unyielding, eyes shooting daggers at jungkook. “leave me alone. i can do it myself.”

“baby, isn’t that a little rude? is that how you say ‘thank you’?”

“thank you. now let’s go our separate ways.”

and just like that, you’re walking away again.

“shit.” he curses quietly through gritted teeth, pulling at his hair. “babe, please come back… i’m sorry! i didn’t mean that!”

—

“jungkook! how many times do i need to tell you to turn off faucet properly?!”

you’re hot on jungkook’s tail as he makes his way to the laundry room beside the kitchen, carrying a laundry basket over his hip. he’s still shirtless, only clad in a different pair of shorts after a quick shower.

“the bathroom sink was close to overflowing! again!”

“i know what you’re doing.”

“what? what am i doing?”

the basket touches the ground, standing beside the dryer, and then he turns to face you, eyebrows shooting up. “picking a fight with me won’t work today.”

“why?” your tone borders on a whine.

“what do you mean ‘why’?” he laughs in jest. “why? why do you want to fight with me so bad?”

“i don’t know.” you exhale loudly, rolling your eyes and shrugging. “just because!”

“well, that’s not very convincing, is it?” he teases you with a grin, proceeding to open the dryer to dump the fresh laundry in the basket. the clothes you wore in the past week once again soaked up the sweet, floral scent the people around you distinctly recognizes to be your own and jungkook’s.

“i know, but i’m done playing now. you’re not hearing me.” you close your eyes in frustration, recounting the other times you had to say these exact words. “you’re going to flood our house.”

“okay, okay. i won’t forget to double-check it from now on. i promise.”

“sure, that’s what you also said last time.” you indignantly scoff, crossing your arms over your chest. “i’m not turning it off for you anymore. if we get flooded, i’m leaving you. i’m moving out.”

your threat puts a halt to his movements for a split second before he’s adorably replying in a sing-song voice. “then i’m going with you.”

“no, you’re not.”

and it doesn’t come as a shock to you that jungkook doesn’t take ‘no’ for an answer.

“huh! good luck trying to stop me.” he slams the door of the dryer shut, standing up straight. “it’s not easy getting rid of me. you know that.”

he walks to the middle of the room to get a good view of you at the entrance. with the other resting on his hip, he lies his palm flat over the counter, outstretched arm cascading with varied colors of ink in sharp lines and swirling curves.

fuck, he has to know what he’s doing — flexing his muscles like that, not playing fair.

“aigoo, look at you glaring at me. you want to fight?”

and you’d feel intimidated by his challenging stare, the quirk of his eyebrow, his teeth sinking on his bottom lip… only if he didn’t blink to rake a stare over your body, lingering on your smooth legs that couldn’t be covered by your mere underwear. only if they didn’t flicker back to your face, and only if he didn’t smirk like a lovesick fool.

“so cute.” he chuckles. “you’re totally my type.”

“shut up.” you roll your eyes at the random compliment. “i know, i already get that a lot.”

his smile then fades, not so thrilled with the reminder that it’s so easy to fall in love with you, and therefore anyone would die to take his place. he knows that they hover around you like moths to a flame when he’s not there. well, he really can’t blame them, can he? you’re so fucking attractive.

“what does that mean…? who else is saying it, huh? tell me. i think i have a few guesses.”

“does it matter?” you stare at him blankly, which then turns into a piercing glare. “jungkook! i was just talking about you not paying enough attention. look at you proving me right!”

the stomp of your feet on the floor tells him that you’ve reached a level of frustration near to inducing a flood of tears.

oh, he truly got called out, huh?

“i’m sorry- i’m sorry. i admit that. i’m sorry, my love. i was just joking around. i’m listening well now.” he winces guiltily, beckoning you to be where he is. “come here then.”

“i don’t want to.” you stay rooted in your spot. “who do you think you are?”

“m-me…? i’m your boyfriend. boyfriend!” he points at himself, index finger repeatedly poking his bare chest to emphasize his point. his arm then drops to his side. his doe eyes widen as he breathes out a sigh of disbelief. “oh, i’m really getting upset now?”

you bite back a smile. the sweet taste of victory.

you can’t be the only one, can you?

“aish, i see you’re having your way again.” he chuckles, taking it upon himself to cross the distance between you. his hands find purchase on the curves of your waist, and every nerve in your body turns into a live wire. “let’s just go out today. do you want to practice boxing at the gym with me?”

didn’t he just watch you do arms day this morning? does he think you have the same stamina as him? you make a face of disapproval and shake your head.

“shall we go to a rage room again then? break more stuff?” he playfully sticks his tongue out, and you glare once more.

for the record, you loved that mug.

“boring.”

“and fighting with me is fun?”

you purse your lips into a thin line. “well, it’s not boring.”

“of course.” he laughs, softly squeezing your waist, pads of his thumbs mindlessly tracing shapes over the fabric of your top.

all of a sudden, he’s tugging you closer to envelope you in his embrace, voice slightly muffled as he sweetly talks. “are you mad at me for real? i’m sorry. sorry, sorry, sorry. sorry. i’ll really be more mindful of the things you remind me about, i swear… i don’t like fighting. it breaks my heart when you cry.”

what is this five foot ten man with bulging biceps, tattoo sleeve, and piercings doing here in the crook of your neck — affectionately nuzzling his face on your skin and telling you in a baby voice that he doesn’t like fighting?

you don’t know, but you feel good.

and his bare body is so comfortingly soft and warm.

he draws back for a kiss but his nose and lips only graze your cheek when you turn away, and you don’t see the sadness that flashes across his face.

“so what i’m hearing is… you don’t like fighting with me because i’m too sensitive? is that the truth?”

“no!” he perks up to interject without hesitation, shaking his head. “but i don’t think that’s a bad thing anyway… being sensitive.”

but you admit being a crybaby. you cry when you’re angry.

that’s when jungkook distinguishes the glint of mischief swimming in your irises. he feels dizzy after having his heart drop to his stomach.

“no. no, no.”

his mirthful grin returns, revealing his perfect set of teeth.

“ahh, i’m stressed!” he closes his eyes, throwing his head back, chest puffing up when he breathes in then out. “i knew it. no, i’m not falling for this trap!”

then he flees the room carrying the laundry basket, leaving you doubled over and covering your mouth to silence your giggles of amusement.

“i’m hanging the laundry now!”

“how dare you walk away from me?!”

“you can’t follow me!”

“i’m not.” you scoff, purposely bumping your hips against his. “i’ll vacuum the living room.”

—

“where are you going? gym?” you genuinely begin to sulk, watching your boyfriend slide into a baggy pair of bleached denim pants. “are you leaving me here?”

he avoids your inquiring eyes, ignoring you as he pulls up his zipper and does the button. you pout when he walks further away to pull out a black shirt from the clothing rack.

“is that it? are you tired of me already?”

he tosses its hanger in the basket where you discard the empty ones before wearing the final piece of clothing, covering himself fully for the first time today.

you sigh, feeling dejected. “you don’t love me anymore?”

and jungkook needs to physically restrain himself so he won’t grab your face and say ‘i love you’ over and over again until he runs out of breath.

you leave the closet to follow him to the bedroom, where he sits on the edge of the mattress to put on his socks.

you stand by him, patience quickly running thin. “hello?”

he brushes away the non-existent dirt on the left sock before switching his legs to put on the right one.

“did i turn invisible?”

your eyebrows furrow in disappointment. this isn’t how fighting works. you need a reaction at the very least.

you tug at the sleeve of his shirt, starting to get annoyed, already planning your exit if he continues this act. “you’re hurting my feelings. you’re not even going to look at me?”

he mumbles, and you almost fail to piece his phrase together. “can’t, you’re too pretty.”

his big brown eyes faintly glimmer with hope when he looks up at you, puckering his rose-tinted lips and making kissing sounds.

your sweet and clingy boyfriend, he’s making this too difficult.

a tsunami of affection washes over you, and it becomes impossible for you not to crack at his cheekiness then. “jungkook, you’re impossible!”

atleast he tried to shoot his shot.

“tsk, see? i thought so!” he grumbles, snapping the elastic band on his ankle. “just want one kiss.”

he disappears into the closet again.

he returns not a minute later, unceremoniously placing a white bucket hat on your head before tugging it down to obstruct your vision.

“hey!”

you hastily take it off, scowling at your laughing boyfriend who turns out to be already wearing a black bucket hat of his own.

“you’re bored, aren’t you? let’s go out, have some sun.”

“no.”

you reply exactly as your boyfriend predicted you would.

jungkook captures your wrist to slip his credit card on your palm, folding your fingers over it, but they aren’t enough to hide the black rectangular thing you can use to buy the world with if you wanted to. your amusement spills out as giggles, brighter as he pushes your hand to your chest so you have no other choice but to accept it.

he scrunches his nose, face only inches away from yours as he persuades you with his natural charm. “what if we go shopping, hmm?”

“thanks babe, but i can’t think of anything i want right now.” you sniffle with teary eyes, flipping the card and holding it between your longest fingers as muscle memory takes control.

“then just keep it incase you see something you want.”

he kneels on the floor out of the blue, and you eye him curiously, your fingers automatically tangling with his silky locks before making a loose fist.

“here, put some pants on. hurry-” he presents your pair of faded gray cargo pants.

you tug at his hair lightly, which prompts him to lift his head. you scrunch your nose cutely, giggling. “i’m spoiled.”

“ey, so what if you are?” he brushes off your observation with his satoori accent, blithe tone listing down reasons. “i love you. i worked hard so i can do these things for you. we moved in together so we can take care of each other.”

and you want to cry. you truly do. your face began to feel warm after he said that he loves you, but the tears never make it past your lash line when his big palm lands a loud smack on your ass, skin-to skin.

“but i do think that you are a brat. does that count for something?”

it catches you by surprise, and a scandalized gasp escapes your mouth as you feel the sting spreading across your skin.

“shut up! give that to me.” you roll your eyes, stealing the pants from his grasp.

“see, that’s what i’m talking about.” he chuckles lightheartedly. “get dressed then.”

his fingers dig in the soft flesh of your thighs when he pulls you closer to kiss the tiny little ribbon on your underwear, heart-shaped lips pressed to you so firmly you can trace their outline bleeding through the thin fabric and onto your skin. “mmm-mwah!”

and then you feel them there next, where it still hurts, a softer kiss in comparison to soothe the sting he left behind.

your heart is beating so loud you can feel it in your throat, feeble knees nearly giving away to crash and break.

who does that so casually? who the hell does that?

oh, right… jungkook. of course.

you raise the white flag today.

perhaps he will flood the apartment tomorrow, and you can stay angry longer then.

—

“what’s taking him so long?” you mutter absentmindedly to yourself, lost eyes scanning the park in hopes of getting a glimpse of your boyfriend and his classic jungkook outfit, but he’s still nowhere to be seen.

your sour mood makes a reappearance.

to your credit, taking you out and then asking you to wait here without telling you where he’s going is rude, and you’re lonely and jealous of the couples around you having a picnic. not to mention that the clouds have uncovered the sun and you’re burning.

this scene also leads your brain to wander to those cliche flashbacks in a film or a show where a parent lies to their child that they’ll come back, and then they doesn’t. it’s always, always at some sort of park.

oh, for fuck’s sake, why are you wasting your time giving this a lot of thought?

too bored and antsy to sit still, you finally decide to text jungkook.

to: my baby love

i'm gonna look for food. do you want anything?

orrr is that what you're away buying 😥

WHERE ARE YOU

why didn't you just take me with youuuu

please me lonely :(

[sent 1 photo]

a black cat !! is sleeping on my shoes!! 😭

i miss you :(

are you almost done

i hate u

whatever i'm going. call if you still remember that you're someone's bf i guess.

—

jungkook crosses the street like an excited puppy, long pretty hair bouncing as he practically skips his way to the area where he left you to wait.

only to be greeted by a complete stranger.

his radiant beam fades into a hue of confusion.

the bench is now occupied by a woman chugging an energy drink after running laps around the park.

they lock eyes for a split second. he averts his befuddled stare to pretend that nothing happened, walking past her with a bouquet of sunflowers until he settles down two benches away.

he wears his bucket hat again only for him to throw it aside with a sigh, messing with his hair to release his frustration. of course you left. he can only snort to himself while he reads the last message you sent. you’re so cute. he knows you’ve never been keen on having to wait, but he didn’t expect himself to take so long either.

not wanting you to be upset with him another second longer, he instantly decides to call you.

his forehead creases when his phone vibrates, informing him that he typed an incorrect password. he tries again, slow and deliberate, only for the same thing to happen, and he begins to feel nervous.

what the fuck?

okay, calm down, JK. one more time.

he freezes as the same words flash on the screen. his tongue pokes the inside of his cheek as he feels the irritation bubbling up inside of him.

“why is it like this…? what’s your problem? what am i touching wrong?”

—

you return to the park more carefree than before. since jungkook is god knows where, you decided to have a picnic on your own. you had to buy a new picnic blanket, though. you can’t get the one in the car because he has the key. but just to be petty, you hope that he figured it out from the text notifications he got when you used his card.

oh, there he is looking angrily at his phone.

you halt on your tracks, instantly pulling the brakes on your feet when you recognize your boyfriend from your peripheral vision. you slowly chew the remaining tteokbokki in your mouth.

he’s holding his phone… and he hasn’t called you yet?

“wow, did you seriously forgot about me?”

upon hearing your familiar voice, jungkook’s features soften, not having to squint at the sunlight either because you’ve kindly blocked it with your back.

“where did you even go? i didn’t see you!”

the password-protected device that’s been giving him a headache for the past ten minutes is abandoned in the depths of his pocket.

“baby,” he utters airily as he stands on his feet, reaching out to hold your forearm. “i’m sorry. i took so long, didn’t i…? i went to buy you flowers but they didn’t have tulips anywhere. anywhere. every shop said someone bought all of them!”

he scratches his head with a sheepish grin, revealing the bouquet he’s been concealing behind him.

“i got you sunflowers instead… they-” he points at them, eyes flickering on the bundle of yellow flowers he’s offering as a gift. “they’re not bad. i think they’re pretty too. you like them too, right?”

sunflowers are pretty. after all, it used to be your favorite in middle school, mostly because it’s the first flower you received from an admirer… it was for your birthday and you felt like you died when it withered, heavily on-brand for a young heart drawn to romance. excluding that, everything has changed. it’s a typical saturday and beads of sweat have formed on your lover’s forehead after running around under the sun. you think you can keep them alive longer this time around.

“i like you the most.”

and then he receives his gift in return, that particularly sweet smile of yours he only sees when you’re so giddy.

his heart flutters wildly at your following actions.

“kiss.” you adorably demand, copying his pout earlier when he was asking for a kiss.

but unlike you who left his wish ungranted, he crosses the distance to plant a kiss on your lips. he pulls away a mere three inches, muttering to confront you. “but i thought you hated me?”

“who said that? that wasn’t me.” you feign ignorance, eyes so wide as to mimic being confused. you carefully take the flowers into your embrace, subtly exchanging it with the paper bowl you’re holding. “thank you, baby… here, do you want tteokbokki?”

he goes for the fish cake first, poking it with the stick and popping it in his mouth. you find yourself too absorbed in admiring the sunflowers one by one to sense your boyfriend staring at you, thinking to himself, you’re always worth the effort and this overpriced tteokbokki is pretty damn good.

“i turned on my location like i promised i would. did you see?” you mention without looking at him, acting laidback, still too shy when anything related to the incident is brought up.

he awkwardly smiles. no, he didn’t, unfortunately. he’s still fucking locked out of his phone.

you whimper when he pinches your cheek. “good job, baby.”

—

jungkook removes his head on your stomach to lie down beside you on the red picnic blanket. his hair touches his face and he tucks them behind his ears for the millionth time today.

“will you type my password for me?”

you take his phone without question, putting yours over your chest for the meantime. you successfully unlock it within a second, experienced fingers nimble after years of typing on the daily.

“here.” you hold it out for him without looking, picking up your own phone to continue scrolling through trending topics. however, seconds pass and the heavy weight on your hand has yet to be eased, so you wiggle it to catch his attention. “hey, it’s done.”

he gasps, gaping at you in bewilderment. “how did you do that?”

“you changed it again last night, remember? because i told you our anniversary isn’t a good idea.”

shit, right. he added a new one to the list of passwords that he uses for everything. he totally forgot about that. you’ve taken over every working brain cell that he has in his body.

“baby, this is your fault!” he groans, finally snatching away his phone. “ah- i wanted to throw it away. i didn’t know what was wrong with it. i was seriously so close to crying!”

that bad? was he about to get all his data wiped out? your poor baby. you laugh out loud at his reaction, belly aching as you roll over to wrap your arm around his waist and bury your face on his side.

“anyone can guess it if they try hard enough.”

“but that was the trick, you know? they’d think it’s too easy. they wouldn’t even consider it!”

“that doesn’t mean they won’t try it!”

“ah, i don’t care. i’m changing it back.” he stubbornly pouts, falling back on the blanket.

you want to cuddle. he feels a tug on the sleeve of his shirt and he immediately understands. he allows you to use his tattooed arm as a pillow. it envelopes you entirely when he reaches for his phone to type with both hands, and you automatically snuggle with him closer by resting your head on his chest.

“fine. do what you want, you dummy. you better not leave your phone lying around.” you mutter, heavy eyelids fluttering shut as the wind blows to softly caress your face. “and don’t take more pictures of me sleeping.”

“you’re sleeping? i thought we’re going to the mall.”

“we are. i’m letting you rest before you carry shopping bags.”

“ah- wow. thanks, baby.”

you don’t how much time passes, a minute or ten or more, but falling into a deep sleep proves to be impossible with the cacophony of sounds you’re surrounded with. you’re resting somewhere away from the crowd, but there’s still the hiphop music from a bluetooth speaker, honking of vehicles… and the main culprit, jeon jungkook scrolling through tiktok on your phone and bookmarking videos for you to watch later on. you can hear his giggles louder than his heartbeat, feel them make his body vibrate throughout.

so, you give up. you open your blurry eyes with a tired sigh, blinking to readjust to the brightness. he feels your movements, your nose brushing against his neck, and he squeezes you to his side, dutifully stroking your head to remind you that you’re safe despite being in a public place because you’re with him. you kiss his cheek to show your appreciation.

you end up harmonizing with his giggles when you do decide to join him, nearly tearing up at the sight of a cat riding a motorcycle toy on the screen. a little while later, your fascination is then stolen by fiddling with his tattooed hand — tracing the veins, the lines, the tattoos; pressing the faded heart like it’s a button connected to the beating one in his ribcage; grazing the rough areas of his palm calloused by lifting heavy weights.

and as you do so, you mull over the house by the sea you’re saving up for. how much longer will it take? should you check out more locations? do you tell jungkook? that it’s your back-up plan, a place where no one knows your name, just like how this city once was. it’s where you would run to, where you would build a new life if the time comes that this one falls apart, too. if not, if not, if not, would it be so bad to wake up beside you with an ocean view when he’s sixty?

fuck, you don’t know anymore. it shouldn’t be this hard— not anticipating the worst, but still being prepared for it. you despise being an adult.

you do it absentmindedly, taking off one of your silver rings and slipping it into each of his fingers to see where it would fit best… he knows you’re only entertaining yourself, but feeling it in his ring finger still puts a lump in his throat.

“are you proposing to me?”

“this is your right hand, silly.” you tease your stunned boyfriend, sticking your tongue out. “if you want me, come and get me.”

—

taglist in the reblogs! send an ask/dm if you want to be added (or removed) :D

—

#jungkook #jungkook fluff #jungkook drabble #jungkook scenario #jungkook imagine #jungkook one shot #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jungkook fic #jungkook fanfic #bts fluff #bts reaction #jungkook angst #jungkook smut

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taegularities · 4 months

Text

candles & flames: air | jjk (m)

bonus chapter I: air

Summary: Voices over the grapevine murmur that somebody has been yearning for you who certainly shouldn't. Jungkook is agitated to the core – reacts immediately until something far sweeter overshadows the envy and turns his and your life upside down.

➳ pairing: Jungkook x reader ➳ rating: 18+ ➳ genre: established relationship, royal!au; fluff, smut ➳ warnings: so much okay let's see; jk is jealousss, mention of a dead parent, daddy issues, pregnancy, birth (no details), kissing, insecurities that are resolved, worries and tears, somebody faints :'), 19th century culture/beliefs/society, short mention of the struggles after birth, a guest appearance!, and a cute baby 💕 jk loves the kiddo so much that his affection makes him cry; explicit sexual content: making out, muchhh teasing, fondling, biting, he loveees her tiddies, oral (f. receiving), he touches himself/masturbation, manhandling, soft dom!koo, big dick!koo, he threatens to tie her up lol, "fck me like you hate me", both hard and soft s/x moments, love spanks, delaying of orgasm, hair pulling, he's roughhhh, fingering, multiple orgasms; pls spot the lil references to the other parts hehe 😁 ➳ wc: 24.4k yay! ➳ a/n: hi hi hiiii. it's been literal months, but we're here again and sharing another piece of our soul. hope y'all like this one, whether you've just arrived here or been here for a while. love you all and as always, let me know what you think!! 🤍 ➳ a/n2: this is a bonus chapter for my mini-series candles & flames. reading the rest of the story helps!! find the mpost below <3

SERIES MASTERPOST | TAGLIST MASTERLIST | WIPs

The quiet hysteria starts with a whisper.

It echoes off the walls that Friday afternoon, seemingly insignificant at first. Most of the whispers are — a cacophony of hisses and sharp tones and hushed nodding.

Uttered between members of the staff, Jungkook catches the conversation coincidentally. He never means to eavesdrop, but these accidental occurrences have revealed one or two things to him before.

Like, what they ate for dinner last night. Or how their sons had learned to read. Jungkook would laugh at stories about neighbours, pout at tragedies of lost family members. But what he hears today is worth neither of those reactions; just mild yet growing confusion.

He wouldn’t have registered a word if he’d left his office a minute later. Wouldn’t have known if he’d opted for his meal thirty seconds earlier.

No. He had to step out now. Cross paths with the staff in this very moment as if it was supposed to happen, coming to a stand in the hallway, mind instantly whirling and eyebrows furrowed.

The two women, startled by the sudden appearance, freeze at their spot a couple feet from Jungkook’s body. They stare at him as though met with a ghost, eyes trailing from his uncurling fist to the Lord’s unmatchable face — puzzled at the moment.

Abandoning curiosity and the hint of amusement, sudden respect spreads over their countenances, and once they have made sense of the situation, they straighten their backs. Bow a little. One of them a little deeper than the other.

Their eyes are as wide as his; the scene couldn’t be more comedic in the afternoon sun shining through the wide window. Three baffled figures fighting the awkwardness; growing by the second until one of them murmurs, “Lord Jeon.”

Her tone is timid, as if she fears he might’ve heard — which he did, alright. But they don’t dare make an attempt at asking about it, perhaps finally realising that things like these aren’t really their business.

So they only nod again, waiting for the man to react in kind, and then rush past him and down the hall. Jungkook isn’t stupid, though — he knows they won’t stop talking.

And he could confront them. Call them back and demand an explanation, lay out every word he just heard and analyse it with what they know. But he doesn’t. He lets them approach the end of the hallway, turning left at the end of it just a few seconds later.

His body’s balanced weight shifts to his left leg, and he puts both his hands on his hips, curling his lower lip inward and tracing it with his tongue. He knows better than to believe rumours mumbled in the gardens or halls of this place.

Maybe it’d be foolish to overthink just yet. Guess he’ll need to ask you yourself.

But he can’t help but replay the conversation in his mind, gaze wandering out of the window and to the blue sky above. He soaks in the summer, lowers his eyebrows, appetite forgotten as he simply voices—

“Huh.”

Existing in this world with you as the love of his life isn’t easy.

There’s magic to how you move. To the way you slip under the blanket with that enchanting smile. To how you reach for the back of your head, undoing the bow.

For a moment, he can’t keep his eyes from the locks that fall over your shoulder; how you sigh in relief as your scalp finally breathes. And when you lean against the bed frame, pulling your legs up and knees close to you, book in hand, you look endlessly cosy.

Warm and inviting, soft hands holding the novel. Your side profile is tender, lips always a perfect curve. Your mouth moves with the words you read, and you smile whenever a description delights you.

You always live in a dream. You are one, too.

Loving you isn’t easy because you’re a constant source of healthy insanity. Of the burning in his chest, the odd feeling in his stomach, and the yearning in his fingers.

But especially tonight, you evoke something he only ever experiences with you. He did it when he saw you dancing with somebody else two years ago. And feels a sliver of it whenever he catches men staring at you at gatherings.

The emotion boils green inside of him, and somehow, you’ve managed to elicit it more than once. He could swear he never knew of it before he met you. You’re truly a spell; only right now, he wishes he felt something else.

You shut the book suddenly, keeping a finger where you stopped, and look up into his eyes without a warning. He flinches just a little, as if awakening from a dream, and you laugh.

“Will you speak what’s on your mind or just keep staring?” you ask; the tilt of your head is sickeningly sweet.

He improvises — nods towards the novel and wonders, “What is it about?”

“Oh,” you look down, holding it up, “secret affairs. Princess to be betrothed is in love with someone else.”

The situation lacks so much humour that he can’t help but find it funny. He suppresses the sarcastic smirk and the shake of his head, keeping the facade upright as he admits, “That is very brave of the author to thematise.”

Your eyes narrow a little, drenched in confusion. “Well, I mean. A lot of them are. But it’s just words on pages. How many secret affairs do you think happen in actual life?”

More than you’d know. Jungkook has seen enough to understand that lovers often reunite in shadows; or that they betray loved ones when the world goes quiet.

You believe in people, though. You romanticise the world. Assume that cruelty is rare, and that most human beings strive for loyalty and flawlessness.

But he doesn’t say any of it; only shifts closer to your optimistic, angelic warmth, craving your scent. He says, “We were the opposite, weren’t we? Made everyone think we were in love when we still despised each other.”

You cock an eyebrow; he instantly regrets his words, realising how harsh they truly sounded. You might be gentle, but you can be just as fierce, too — so he prepares for some scolding, lips parted.

But you only puff out a breath, freeing the finger trapped between the pages, and put the book aside. Then, you say, “I still despise you.”

Jungkook stares, pausing for a moment, and you let him ogle for another second before you laugh. You grab the still hand on his thigh, lifting it to your lips and press the feather lightest of kisses against its back.

You keep the palm against your cheek, inquiring carefully, “Is something troubling you?”

“No,” he immediately shoots, “no. I just wanted to ask about your novel.”

“Just about the novel?”

“Mhm. Yes.”

“Hmm. Well, yes, that one,” you grace it another glance, “it’s good. A typical story about a royal princess mingling with the stable boy and rejecting the prince.”

Jungkook nods, but you think his pupils widen. Is he imagining a scenario of his own? Not enjoying the storyline? Perhaps.

Because he states, “Disloyalty is quite something. I would,” he pauses, blowing a raspberry, “die if I was the prince.”

He emphasises die with all his tongue’s strength; you huff at the dramatics of the moment, puzzled by the sudden shift in mood. In truth, this is not such an unusual behaviour.

Because more often than not, Jungkook displays interest in your little hobbies. Novels render you sentimental, and you’ve pulled him into the whirling storm of emotions that those stories made you feel before.

Like,

“They won’t accept him because he’s an artist?”

“So he decides to leave instead of fighting for her?”

“Alright, tell me about the first time he tells her he loves her.”

He’ll lean forward, turn to his side, eyes wide, indulging in the narrative. Mirroring your emotions, a sucker for tales and sentiments, albeit barely ever picking up a book voluntarily.

Just today. Today something seems off. The issue he has with the feelings prevalent in the book seem to reach far deeper — to a personal level, it seems.

You start slowly and patiently, shaking your head once before you say, “But you won’t die. I chose my prince wisely, and I do not care for our stable boys,” you pause, lifting a finger with a laugh, “wait. In such a way, I mean. They are actually very kind.”

Jungkook doesn’t appreciate your joke — your suspicion grows. Although he does turn to the side again, elbow digging into the pillow, body closer to yours.

“What about lords?”

Huh. What?

You echo your thoughts, “What?” You wait for only a moment before the space between his eyebrows morphs into a crease, and you mimic the expression. “Alright. Now you’re not making sense anymore.”

It takes another second or two for his drying eyes to blink. The movement is slow, a little frustrated; he looks to his hands. Then up to you; to the wall behind you and back to you.

Then, his Adam’s apple bops, swallowing thickly before he finally reveals, “The maids were talking about some neighbouring man. Lord Jeong or something. Would you happen to know him?”

Jeong?

Hm…

You think for a moment.

Of course you know him. The town isn’t too far from yours, and the people around here never speak ill of him. In fact, one of your cooks was just praising him a couple weeks ago as you dined without Jungkook during his busy working hours.

The cook kept you company for most of the time, speaking of his pre-Jeon adventures in other towns, with other lords.

You hum before you respond, “I know of a Jeong Yuno. But I have never spoken to him.”

The sigh of relief that Jungkook heaves is immediate. You stare bewildered.

“Good,” he answers, “they were just…”

He scratches his scalp before the hand drops to the mattress with a dull thump. For a distracted moment, he smoothens the already flat baby blue surface, drifting from his original thought.

The light tug at the sheet creates new wrinkles; you watch intently, relaxed and calm. Only, you aren’t sure he feels the same way. Especially when his fingertips shift to the back of your hand, a ghost touch looming over your thumb.

He must have thought about this a lot.

“They were saying that a lord was spreading rumours about how he used to want you and would still not hesitate if you could be his.”

Oh.

“That’s… not a proper thing to announce for a lord,” you sympathise, gaining an instant nod, enhanced by the round, big, brown eyes.

“Yes. It is not. A very outrageous statement to give about a married lady anyway.”

“Mhm…”

You are in full agreement that the words shouldn’t have fallen out of a presumably respected man of the country. Someone as loved and cherished by a community shouldn’t comment on a married couple, even less on the wife of a well-known man.

Jungkook’s father was celebrated around towns and villages — the head of the capital.

It’s just that in this case — you can imagine what occurred. The lord in question relishes a far lesser known reputation than Jungkook. If it’s who you imagine it to be, he must be reigning over a tiny village now.

You remember that back when you knew him, he was still young, uninterested in his parents’ legacy; seems he has made it far. Though, it seems he hasn’t quite understood the responsibilities that come with royalship.

Shit.

Jungkook notices your fog-shrouded gaze; you probably haven’t blinked in a while. He touches and taps your wrist, pulling back your attention, possibly still tense as he asks, “What?”

When you look at him, he resembles a curious, frightened puppy, trying to make sense of his surroundings. He’s pouting, waiting for an answer, lips parted. He lifts his head off the propped up hand, alerted, and repeats—

“What?”

Waving his concerns off would do nothing, right? You swore to always be transparent — and this issue isn’t big enough to be postponed. In fact, it might only grow if you do choose to stuff it in a chamber.

“You are not talking about Jeong,” you explain, carefully wrapping your fingers around his, “but Jung. Jung Hoseok.”

The curtain of relief falls and gives way to a dark, gloomy night. You know he expected this conversation to be over, for his misunderstanding to turn out as just this. But there’s more behind the maids’ whispers — and he hates it.

“Who?” he asks.

“We don’t have to talk about it if you feel displeased with it.”

“Why would I feel displeased?” Jungkook prods, slowly sitting up. “Is there a reason to?”

Absolutely not. But you also know your husband isn’t the most patient of men when it comes to envy and poison green feelings alike. You still remember the night you confronted his uncle — slivers of jealousy found their way through him even then.

“No,” you admit, “but it is absurd, and I knew you would react like this.”

“Like what? I am calm.”

That he is.

At least the rapid breathing, the voice gaining on pitch, the manner in which he squeezes your hand — they indicate a form of calm unknown to you, alright.

“Jungkook…” you mumble, wiping over the back of his hand with your thumb, trying to calm the grip.

You move on the bed, butt bumping against your book and nearly knocking it to the ground. Tired from the day, you grunt as you get on your knees, watching him follow your body before you finally straddle him.

Jungkook gets into a proper position, heaving himself up until his back is pressed to the bed’s railing. He holds onto your waist to keep your balance, and you shift properly onto his lap.

Once stabilised, your hands hurry to his face, squishing his cheeks just a little as you speak, “I shall make you wiser then?”

“You shall stop teasing me.”

The fiery eyes could throw daggers at you on any other day, but the pout he talks through just makes him look… sweet. Thick eyebrows kiss, and he pulls at one of your hands to lighten the cradling grip around his face.

You angle your head, fond of the soft care, albeit hiding behind an insecurity. There’s flattery in the way his mind created a nonexistent rival — at least, he thinks you’re worth the worship.

You surrender when he blinks, letting out an exasperated breath, “Alright. Remember when I told you I have only fallen in love very few times?”

“At the orphanage.”

His answer shoots out of him as if scripted, and you dare a subtle chuckle. Your thumb brushes against his lips and the mole underneath them; you think that despite his agitation, the gesture soothes his soul.

“Jung Hoseok was one of those people,” you say.

A few buttons of his linen shirt are open, so you see his sun kissed chest heave at the admission. You move a hand down to touch the sculpted skin, warm and immediately comforting under your touch.

“He was the only other Lord I ever dared to mess with, but he wasn’t too important back then yet. And Hoseok… he caught me at a time when I was not yet ready for bigger commitments. Despite my feelings for him.”

Jungkook’s eyes are glistening. Helplessly observing your every move and expression, lost for words as he digests yours. There’s an ego in men that you haven’t understood just yet; fragile at times.

So this piece of information must be activating a thorough thought process in him.

It’s odd. How those once roaming around town are usually the ones affected the most when they actually fall in love. Protective and dedicated to an exceptional degree.

Maybe, however, because his escapades never meant anything at all. And you… You put your heart in someone’s hands once.

“What happened?” Jungkook wonders, puppy stare intact.

You don’t think there’s more to tell — or more for him to know. But a curious mind is a curious mind.

So you tell him, “He wanted more right away. Dedication, marriage, for me to leave my house. And,” you shrug, uncomfortable with memories of a past lover; you want to keep loving and touching your current one, “I couldn’t.”

You’re not sure whether his nerves are calming at all; but you’re satisfied and relieved when he lifts a palm to the small of your back, gaze warm. You keep playing with the collar of the soft linen.

“And now I am happy I didn’t. In hindsight, we were so incredibly different. I mean, people are different, but… we didn’t match at all.”

“Were you…” His voice is so unbearably quiet. So sweet and lovely; the cocky boy from years ago has a delicate heart, and you want it pressed to yours. “Ready when I asked you to marry me?”

Ready? In fact, your skin was tingling with joy; every moment of the day.

You soothe his worries, “I would not be here if I hadn’t been. This,” you raise your fingers to his cheek again, brushing his face with their back, “you. I won’t ever want more. You’re all the dreams I’ve ever dreamt.”

Are you referring to nightly images conjured by a dreamy mind? When you’re fast asleep, barely ever tossing beside him? Because as far as he’s concerned, you follow him even into his daydreams, in your presence and in your absence.

If he told you now, he fears you’d dissipate; you’re a soul with its head in the clouds, and you’ve always appreciated a gesture of romance here and there.

You’re a force of nature, and someone to be desired greatly.

But.

Perhaps that’s what’s troubling him the most right now. And it never has before. He knows you’re captivating, and he’s proud that somebody loves him who’s easy to love, but this time… this time the whispers prevail, and they do something odd to his mind.

He matches your smile, giving into the relief you bring; yet, distressed by his own intrusive thoughts and memories of conversations he’s gathered, he can’t help but let his gaze fall. It floats over your bare neck and clavicles and then drops further to your lap.

A hand on his neck, you opt for a question — he knows by the way you suck in a soft breath, knows every of your motions and their meanings. But before your inquiry tumbles out, he murmurs, “They were saying he wants you back.”

And the worst thing is that you don’t hesitate, immediately nodding. “I heard about it. I uh… the other day I went down to the village and one of them told me her sister was part of the staff over in his town. And they heard others in his mansion say it, apparently.”

Jungkook doesn’t like the ugly, searing hot feeling spreading beneath his chest. It differs entirely from anger or disgust; pure fire burning up his insides and extending to his head.

That you talked about the still rather yearning lord with somebody else isn’t Jungkook’s favourite thought, admittedly. Worse even when you proceed, “He’s unmarried, I’ve heard.”

But what could you do with what you heard? Do you even care?

Jungkook swallows the balls of flames until the vexing sensation burns in his stomach, nearly afraid to ask, “What do you think of that?”

He shouldn’t be, though. Because you’ve proved time and time again who you stand with — yet, it feels like a wanted relief when you, with absolute certainty unmatched, assure, “Nothing. How could that affect my life? I’m here, with you.”

“I…” Jungkook tilts his head, and when he stares back up to you again, you could swear a piece of your heart detaches itself from the rest. Shoots right into his chest. “Am I being stupid?”

And how could it not if the man of your dreams, yours in this and the next lives, usually so composed, wordlessly declares you his kryptonite every single day?

Your eyebrows furrow slightly in unending adoration and worship, and you sigh, touching his cheek, wishing there was a far superior way to showcase affection and love of such tender sort.

“A little,” you admit.

“But… you’ll forgive me for it?”

“Nothing to forgive you for.” You match the tilting motion of his head, but in the opposite direction. You blink slowly. “Except maybe for the fact that you provide so much love without giving much of it to yourself.”

When he downs the knot in his throat again, it feels and looks different. Not the insecure envy from before, but rather a truth spiking his heart.

“…Darling,” he whispers, “why?”

“You know as well as I know that you trust me. That’s not why you’re afraid, right? It’s because you don’t trust yourself.” You remove a strand of dark tresses off his forehead. “We’ll change that.”

You don’t judge him for it, huh? You could. In truth, you could absolutely distance yourself from such an unwanted trait, but you don’t. Combatting it seems easier to you.

Yet, he can’t find a better answer than, “I’m sorry.”

Your husband is a jealous man, but he’s also a fragile man. You’re not allowed to leave him; not because you regard it as a duty to serve as his remedy. But because you made a vow to love him regardless, regardless of fate’s cruelty.

And.

You want to show him what you see through your eyes; what he doesn’t notice through the looking glass.

“Thank you for forgiving me, though?” he then speaks, forming it as a question rather than a statement; though he finds himself pretty soon. “Albeit, I have to say, if you hadn’t, I would’ve found ways for you to do it either wa—”

His promise is broken by your yelp when he presses you in, tickling your waist. He grits his teeth, cuteness aggression kicking in when you call his name, holding onto his face. Your nose inches close to his as he squeezes your hip.

Eyes closing before they open again and he says, “I will never let you go. Never. And let nobody ever have you but me.”

“Aren’t we a little more obsessed tonight?” you jest, watching him shrug his shoulders. “But. I would be mad if you did.”

“My princess…”

There’s something about the breathy tone, filled with growing desire, a not too subtle hint to how the night will inevitably evolve.

It’s insane, how the breathing stagnates when you’re in love; crazy at just the prospect of lips touching.

And once they do, your lungs dry out right away, and you lean back, slowly losing your grip. But he holds you and holds you tighter, eyes aflame with sheer willpower, and then holds you so tight, it hurts…

The kiss is breathtaking, in the truest sense of the word. Goosebumps covering all your flesh, you raise your shoulders, hands in his hair as his wander along the lines of your body. He moves just a little underneath you, but you feel the change so obviously.

Harder, stirring, hot and heavy. And you enhance the effect, continuing the sloppy kisses until he, impatiently, breaks away from the kiss with a quiet moan and opts for your neck.

The break between the change, he uses to focus on his hands. Raises your dress at light-speed, brushing his palms over the curves of your ass. And he doesn’t take too long before he’s snuck his digits further in this complicated position, winding his arm to find your aching heat.

You move forward a little, helping out, so his limb can wrap around you easier, digits floating to the hole. But your decision distracts him; you laugh.

“It’s amusing to you, yes? Having your tits in my face,” he teases, as shameless as ever when he bites and misses your nipple by an inch over your gown.

The free hand pushes the clothing down, freeing one side, reluctant to practise restraint when swollen lips engulf your hard nipple. You whimper immediately as his teeth gently nibble at the nerves, and you tighten your grip around him, head falling back.

“Cannot say it’s not,” you admit, unconsciously toying with the hair in the nape of his neck until you start pulling, barely noticing. He does, however, gasping with a mouthful of your tits. “Sorry.”

He shakes his head, an indicator that he doesn’t care; that he enjoys the pleasurable pain if it’s you inflicting it in a moment like this. As a masochist and a pet at times, you won’t disagree.

But you don’t hold the power for too long when he continues with his intentions, finger pressing against your pussy, desperately longing for the garment to disappear. Wanting to sink into you with all his might.

But… endurance. Patience.

You nearly suffocate him in your tits as he caresses your cunt, and then your ass again, only managing to resurface to say, “Pretty girl… weren’t you tired?”

“I was,” you tug at him, wanting him much, much closer, “make me more.”

“More tired?”

“So I sleep better tonight.”

“Sweetheart… you will. I promise you.”

It’s vows like these that stir the last stage of lust in you, so unbridled that it leaks out of each of your pores. You want his trousers off, want them to magically disappear. But sorcery doesn’t exist, and your wish will be impossible to fulfil in this position.

And he notices, reads your thoughts as if floating above your head. “Lift your body?” he kindly demands, holding you for a second until you’re inches over his crotch. He uses the moment to lower his clothing along with the underwear, suddenly half bare.

Oh so bare…

When you look down, you’re met with protruding veins, a length twitching slightly, wanting to lay against his stomach. And you don’t hesitate as you lower yourself again, dragging your clothed pussy over the hardness so recklessly—

But the harsh material of your clothes rubs him wrong, literally, and he whimpers. Should you do it again? You fucking love it when he whines and writhes… but not in such a way.

You don’t want to hurt him. So you oblige. Stop when he digs his nails into your waist, ordering, “Get off, so I can—”

You don’t know what for, but you can imagine, and the thousand possible pictures are more than enough for you to lift yourself off immediately. Carefully, you move away, expecting for him to let you know how to continue, but instead…

Within the blink of an eye, you find yourself flat on your back, flipped over and caged in. Only rising again when he aids you in doing so, just the upper body, just a little. To remove your dress, pulling it over your head and stuffing it in a corner.

You swear the time passes in slow-motion, yet simultaneously paces faster than usual. Because it’s a leisurely blur when you see him discard the last piece of your bed-attire. But a rush when he bares his golden chest and back, laying next to you and starting to kiss your tummy.

It’s so funny because…

You sigh. Nevermind.

You put your attention solely on how he kisses his way down, still next to you, further down until you only see his back and his mane, and somewhere far beneath, hands caressing your thighs. Then spreading them. And then, working up… up towards…

“You’re defeating me today…” you happily conclude, not one to reject a night with him winding under you, but also not one to decline… whatever he’s doing right now.

“You are very welcome.”

Cheeky jerk. You’d snort and roll your eyes if you had the energy and power to. Although, the latter does not stay absent after all, even if the roll of your eyes occurs backwards, mouth open when he parts your folds and touches your swollen nub.

Gauging your reaction, he throws a stare back, just briefly and quickly. He barely flinches when you pierce his skin with your nails, scratching him, biting your lower lip with desperation in your pupils.

And it’s enough for him. Boosts his keenness. You see it in his smirk, and see the desire, the devotion, the appetite in his lost eyes.

He cocks an eyebrow at you, never bothered by your frequent love-wounds, yet sly when he warns, referring to your nails, “Stop it. I will tie you up if you keep going.”

Is that… a threat or a promise? You’re tempted to test him.

But for now, you wish to indulge further in what he’s initiating, and if you said something right now or provoked him into a pace of change, you’d lose the moment. So you remain still. Or, as much as you manage to.

Not quite when he moves over you, turning the back towards you once more, and—

Is that… oh. No doubt that he just spat right onto your clit, wet, warm and enhancing your greed. And then the damned finger. Touching your thighs as if to tease you, advancing to your cunt slowly, as opposed to the ball of frustration building in your chest and tummy.

“Could you move that up?” you mutter, barely registering how nonsensical you might sound.

But Jungkook knows you inside out, and reads your words as well as your body. Uses the knowledge to torture you some more, sneaking to your folds before he finally touches them, but doesn’t dig in.

Okay…

“Why?” you ask, not expecting an answer. “I’ve been good these days.”

“You’ve been great,” Jungkook retorts, tugging at one of your nether lips as if busying himself, “but I’m just kidding. Who am I to deny you anything?”

“In this situation? Perfectly Jeon Jungkook…”

The unsteady breathing accompanying your statement adds to the comedic aspect of the moment, and he doesn’t hold back when he laughs. Only briefly stopping when he leans down, delivering a chaste kiss to your aching bud.

And then he does the unforgivable, and lifts himself up. Away from you. Entirely.

“What—”

“It’s alright,” he ensures, nodding as if to make it believable for himself, “I am right here. See?”

He crawls — crawls! — towards you, very briefly until he reaches your lips, kissing you with the same filthy mouth that touched your intimate part just a moment ago. His mouth moves against yours just a little, then retracts and then comes back for another shorter kiss.

“Want me to do it?” he asks.

“Do what?”

“Tie you up?” The constant head tilts are killing you, not well for your heart or mind. Even less combined with the sickly sweet smile, so awfully in love. “You didn’t reject the idea and,” another kiss to the corner of your lips, “you’re being so terribly cooperative tonight.”

He says it as if it’s news to him. As if you’re not true-blue every second of the day.

Jerk wants things spelled out to him. Waits as he plays with a lock, face hovering inches from yours, and the tip of his tongue so visibly touching the spot behind his front teeth.

As you refuse to answer, however, solely for the purpose to gauge what he might do next, he chuckles quietly, inhaling before he says, “Alright. Different idea, then.”

He gets back on his knees, straightening his upper body for a mere moment only before he opens your legs. Positions himself between them. Distances himself from you before finally getting into the desired stance. Stomach-down, hands touching your thighs, parting them with his mouth close to you.

It takes everything in you to not shut your limbs again when the warm breath mingles with your sloppy centre; and you already feel wasted when his tongue darts out. Opens up your pussy a little. Tickles you so lightly.

“Put your hands over your head,” he uses the pause for, haphazardly gesturing into your general direction with his chin, “no touching allowed. And if you endure until I’ve tasted you till the end, I’ll do whatever you want for the rest of the night.”

The image his words conjure is mesmerising. Yet, you don’t know if that’s the outcome you’re wishing for, or rather the absolute opposite, submitting to him and letting yourself go entirely for his pleasure.

There is no time to think. Your mind isn’t capable of thoughts at all.

Of course not, not if he attaches his mouth to your cunt, wrapping gorgeously soft and swollen lips around your equally soft and swollen ones. He kisses your pussy, drawing back with a smooching sound.

Goes in again, repeats. Then, slowly, adds his tongue. Swirls it around your clit, making your right leg twitch, your body react. A strong hand holds your thigh down, breath falling against you so hotly; the sensation is unlike anything else.

You don’t know how he does it; but you don’t just feel the tickling, endlessly lustful phenomenon where he causes it, but across your body. On your warm skin, in your stomach, in your chest.

You’re light-headed when his tongue flicks over your clit again, and then moves back to your hole; you curl in your toes. For the first time after a long while, you think this won’t take very long.

Digging your nails into your palms, you wet your lower lip with your tongue, uttering, “I’m almost there…”

“Mhm,” he muses with his mouth still licking you up, spreading the warm feeling all over. Then detaches himself to say, “I thought so. I can hear it.”

Knows you too well…

You recognise that he wants to take his time. Your pleasure is his sole purpose, fully focused on your reactions, your sounds, your winding body. But as the two of you deduced, you’re closer to the end than ever.

He kisses your thigh, provides little love-bites, tongue tasting your skin before he dives back in. Breathing in and out through his nose, he buries himself in you, bringing a thumb under his tongue and pushing in just a bit, but not entirely.

At the same time, his other thumb shifts its attention to rolling over your clit. Apparently, he trusts you enough now to not pin your legs to the mattress anymore, doesn’t expect you to give in and touch him, even if you want to. The way you’re holding yourself back, seeking your pleasure and obeying his orders floods pride and immeasurable greed through him.

As he French kisses you thoroughly, you notice when he smiles against your pussy. Even laughs a bit in amusement. Your body moves and lifts when his light but calculated touch toys with your nerves; he follows the insane writhing, glued to you.

And then he pushes a finger inside, pumps a couple times; moves his tongue to your clit. It’s crazy. Crazy. The saliva dripping off his chin when he eats you up, so diligent and powerful, executing this as perfectly as ever.

But it’s neither of these things that make you topple off the edge; not just the fingers or his tongue or how worryingly good he is at this.

But the damn eye contact at the end.

The immediate connection between you, the way he wants to see you, understand your reactions, but simultaneously keep going.

And all that knowledge helps you feel it all over. The contractions coming in waves; the pleasure radiating to every other part of your body. The sense of warmth and tingling experience.

Shit, and the euphoria. The profound relaxation while perceiving the increased heart rate at the same time; your glowing skin and the sweat.

And once you’re done, throat dry from not speaking, only yelling, you breathe, “That was… quick.”

“I am sorry,” he responds, still exhaling against you; you still feel the waves inside your cunt, so it’s hard to listen. “I needed to let my frustration out somewhere.”

You half-roll your eyes, as much as manageable.

“But in exchange… I’ll hold my promise and let you do anything,” he repeats, rubbing your leg and then your sides softly. Slowly moves up to you until his length presses against your heat and his lips align with your mouth. “Can I just first…”

“Love,” you interrupt, “you don’t need to. You don’t need to hold your promise, because I don’t want you to. Not tonight.”

“What?”

“I want you to let it all out,” you confess, ”claim me.”

Because frankly, you see it in his eyes. That he wants to release the beast, too. Of course ready for your ministrations, but yearning to wreck you so desperately. Already in the headspace, affected from the moment he licked you dry and wetter.

“I promised,” he tries, but you shake your head, still breathing stagnantly.

“I… So I… May I?” he still inquires permission, stuttering, so gentle, polite and tormented. “Goodness. I might die.”

You chuckle at the hyperbole, though the sound comes out weak as you still breathe through your craze. As you stare up at him, you think you recognise pure anguish reflecting in his gaze, made visible by the candlelight. Eyebrows kissing, mouth open.

You feel similar, so you’re not one to turn down the plea.

“Yes, but… I mean it. You don’t need to submit entirely. I want you to do what you want to do.”

Because that’s when he’s the most authentic. And because the statement never poses a risk with Jungkook. Any other man might forsake you, but you could say such a thing a thousand times; even as he seeks his own pleasure, he won’t forget about yours.

And unleash all desperation on you simultaneously.

You want this. You want this.

“Fret not,” he assures, “I will. I am not neglecting either of us.”

Lining himself up, he sits up properly, starting a languid movement of the head of his length up and down your pussy. He means to tease you just a bit longer, wanting to test your reaction to the thickness rubbing between your folds.

But you see the surprise in his face when his cock threatens to slip in the moment it reaches your hole, even though there is no reason for his bafflement. Doesn’t he know what he does to you?

“Oh…” he murmurs, trying again, once again watching just a few inches disappear inside you before he pulls back. “That is… nice.”

In, then out again. Once more, in. Once more, out.

Then a tap of his heavy cock against your pelvis, stroking it in the process for further hardness, and you observe. Fully undisturbed and entirely amazed by what you’re seeing. Every single time.

You let him touch himself, and then close your eyes to listen to his sounds. But he soon leans into you again, whispering to keep them open, and when you do, he uses the proximity to kiss you again.

Harder this time. Moaning as he jerks himself off. A second longer until he brings it back to your pussy, and you raise your back off the mattress a little when he pushes the head in. Whimpering into the kiss, never having him back away.

You grip his shoulders for safety, trying not to go insane, and right before he parts from you, he nods. Asking, “Yes?”

“Please.”

“Shall I?”

“Please start.”

“Start… if you want me to fuck you numb, I will. Right until your mind is vacant of everything else. Will fuck all of me into you. Yes?” You take a shaky breath, barely nodding, but he sees and laughs quietly. “I need every lord to know to keep their hands off just by the way you walk.”

The nod turns into a shake of your head, and as he presses in further, you try to whisper, “That would be… incredibly scandalous, my love.”

“Oh? What difference does it make? The entire house always knows when I do these things with you.”

“Do they—”

“The staff always whispers. And they pay extra attention to you. Always lurking and trying to see if something changes about you. I’ve heard them, you know?”

Oh… oh, you know what he means. Of course you do. Perhaps you’re not the only one dreaming of a blooming future with him, of seeds being planted and growing into this family of yours.

The entire place must be waiting for the announcement to arrive one day.

Right…

“Then…” you start, interrupting yourself to press your lips together, muffling your moan when you feel him bottom out. “Then do not hold back now either. I want you to.”

“To hold myself back?”

“No.”

“Want what then, darling?”

“To fuck my mind numb of thoughts. And my legs of any feeling.”

Abruptly, he pulls out. Then, all of a sudden in again, all at once. You’re cross-eyed when you moan, and he more or less falls onto you as you pull him in, resisting the urge to bite into his shoulder as he nuzzles your neck.

A hand settles under your knee, raising one leg over his waist, starting to move. Messily, he licks and kisses your neck, continuing at your jawline, and then down to your clavicles. Fucks you lovingly enough to light a fire in you.

His hanging strands tickle your skin, damp from the sweat much like his forehead. His greedy sounds are crazy against your collarbones, and then decrease in volume when his lips wrap around your nipple once again.

“Sweetheart,” he mutters.

“Mhh…”

“This is not enough, is it?” No, it isn’t. He barely needs to speak on for you to momentarily shake your head, but he does, and it adds to your madness. “Not enough to disable straight walking…”

“Yes. No, yes—”

You mewl embarrassingly when he slides his cock out again; you see so much more of him outside of you than fucking necessary.

And God. God, you hate it when he presumably accidentally retracts it fully. Silently complaining, you sigh with worried eyebrows, but he finds his way back to you easily. It’d be odd if he didn’t. You suck him in effortlessly.

And he seems to enjoy it. Seems to seek an end to his goal, still keeping his previous question in mind, and then—

Your thighs quiver when he pushes in with all his power, all at once and as deeply as physically possible, and your eyes shut so hard that they hurt.

“Would you look at these tits…” you hear him say, forcing yourself to look at him again, fluttering your eyelids open.

And as sassily as your foggy brain allows, you respond, “I am looking, as well.”

At small, brown, constantly hard nipples. You want to touch them, kiss and bite them. Want to destroy him as much as he’s intending to destroy you. But you can barely move.

How could you if this time, when he returns to his ministrations, he turns entirely, irrevocably, positively merciless.

He gently falls forwards, holding you as he did before, but this time, when he hammers into you, the entire bed shakes. You raise your arm over your head, holding onto the railing for a second, inspecting how far away your head remains from it.

But Jungkook is attentive, and you only notice a second later that his palm is covering your head, keeping it from bumping against the railing. So you remove your hands from it, letting it glide over his smooth back again, sweat-covered and hot now.

He’s a monster, this man. Or perhaps, you make him a monster. You want to believe you’re the sole reason he forgets the universe like this; pounds into you, causing your body to move up and down the mattress, just because you’re the weakest spot he has.

Of course you are. Of course.

So obvious when he confesses for the millionth time, “I love you.” Muffled, but clearer when he moves to look at you, expression beyond words as he repeats, “I love you so much.”

“And I you, my love.”

Strange. So strange how you never would’ve imagined yourself saying such a thing just a few years ago. How you avoided him, took a different path than him, never voluntarily meeting his eyes.

The words floating between you urge him to slow down for the moment; he attempts to take you in, to memorise you. Lets his eyes flit from your mouth over your nose to your pupils. Touches your cheek.

And the slower pace allows you to speak a bit more properly, even though you can’t help but feel distracted when he drops his head some to peck your skin.

“It… it has not been more than two years, has it? When we still despised each other.”

His kiss burns scars into your shoulder, hotter than hellfire. A raspy voice murmurs, “The world changes in mysterious ways.”

“Mmmh—”

It does. So does your mind. Because why is it that the most utterly sweet romance births the wildest of desires?

“And… Maybe that is what you need to unleash tonight, Kook. Perhaps I need it, too—” You shudder when he hums. His digits are still restless on your face, sliding up and down; not knowing what to caress. “What if you fucked me like you still hated me?”

“I… would that… You want that? I cannot even act as if I hate you, though.”

“Try it. I want you to.”

Jungkook remains speechless for too long, still comprehending your words, clearly torn between adhering to your wishes and worshipping you with the same adoration as you give out.

But as you so faintly mouth a hushed Please, you diffuse something in his brain. Inexplicably, because the rush of sensations, while never absent, feels new each time he touches you.

Perhaps that’s why he never gets enough of you; you hang a new star onto the sky every day, a new moon every night. Alternating every moment and refusing to leave a single one bland.

He’d be damned if he didn’t give the same excitement back to you.

Pushing his body up, he kneels above you, slipping out of you bit by bit as he grips your left knee. He shifts your limb, changing the position until you’re laying sideways, somewhat twisted.

You see the fleeting glimpse of pride as he slides back home and you mewl, soon squinting your eyes shut because shit — whatever you were doing before doesn’t compare to the tightness the shift allows. How your legs are nearly closed, allowing for much more friction.

You’re wrapped around him so fucking well, reminiscent of old key-to-its-lock-metaphors; and he feels infinitely closer to you. Possibly having a harder time than you, even.

The drag of his cock is endless as he begins, still too gentle, but effective enough. Your hands seek a place to hold onto, immediately opting for his leg; but he doesn’t seem to dig the idea as much.

“Let go,” he orders, not quite waiting for you to oblige before he’s captured your arm harshly and removed your touch, pinning it to your hip. “Same as before. No touching or I’ll stop—” The thrust he delivers isn’t quick, but relentless and hard; deep to the hilt. “—this. I don’t care if you cry or complain then.”

Shit…

He’s started. And he’s playing the act well. In your drowsy idiocy, you can’t help but wonder how the two of you would’ve fared if you’d turned your hate into lust much earlier. If you hadn’t used the time to despise each other, but transform it into this kind of energy.

Of course it is stupid to retort to such fantasies. Back then, you were disgusted by his personality, irritated by the way the two of you treated each other. There would’ve been no scenario in which he would’ve landed balls-deep in you.

But fuck, does the image prompt something in you.

You don’t bother for an answer, reckoning that the quiver of your lower lip might suffice, but… seemingly, not for him. Because he presses into your wrist harder before moving it to your back.

Yelping, you nearly stuff your face in the pillow, not entirely realising his next moves until you open your eyes again. See his mouth floating right over your ear. So close to you, pushing your damp hair back, whispering ominously, “Are you not fucking hearing me? Do you not understand?”

“I…” Goddamn it. Is he gritting his teeth? Playing his aggression so well? Or does it derive from the sheer lust he can’t contain? “I hear you. I understand.”

“What did I say?”

“No touching.”

The fingers stroking your strands back are more tender than his words, rewarding you with caresses as he continues just a tad softer, “Was that so difficult?”

He leaves you with another squeeze of your tits, moving his knees on the mattress to draw closer to your body. To bury himself further into you, leaving no spot untouched. And then, perfectly in character, claims, “Looking as pathetic as years ago, aren’t you? Probably dreamed of fucking me then, too.”

Wow—

Regarding the assignment with absolute diligence, it seems.

Even more cruel when he slips out of you so casually, so easily, despite adjusting to the position a mere moment ago. For a good purpose, however — because his digits replace his rock hard, soaked cock not soon after, testing the situation with languidly slow pumps.

They feel so different from his length; so… inadequate. You desire so much more. Back to where you were a minute ago. It’s… so hard not to touch him.

But if you begged for it now, would he give in? Or rather hold onto your previous idea?

You can try.

“Kook…” you whisper carefully, albeit immediately noticing how his breathing overshadows the word. You attempt again, “Kook.” This time, he hears. “Please. Need more? Please.”

“Asking for mercy all of a sudden… you cannot be serious.”

“I…”

“You’re lucky I do, too, you see? Need more.” Firmly, he lets a heavy hand fall to your ass, moving it up before your surprised squeal leaves you, and pushes at your back; your body flat on your stomach. “Or you’d long be sprawled over my lap.”

One of your dangerous traits is that you’re constantly tempted to test him. To act out, to follow his little warnings. Then again, he already provides enough; already at a hundred percent.

Like now, when he returns with the intent to wear you out. Wrecking you from the moment his cock intrudes again, falling in so smoothly that it’s almost embarrassing.

He starts right away. Pants a couple seconds later, matching your squeaks, probably delighted by your desperation as you hold, nearly rip the sheets.

Tired, he leans in, chest closer to your back, and uses the nape of your neck as leverage to move easier. Wrapping a hand around it, pressing you down, hearing you whine and sniffle against the pillow.

You cannot recall the last time he fucked you this brutally. Snapping against your ass, letting all of the massiveness he sports disappear inside you. You don’t know what surprises you more — his stamina or the fact that you can take him this well at all.

But even Jeon Jungkook has his limits. You hear the approaching end in the way he sounds, breathing irregular and words incoherent. How broken his sounds are, high-pitched and absolutely unhinged. How his thrusts are slower now, indicative of his fatigue.

You know he’s close. But when he doesn’t slow down but stops altogether, you know he doesn’t want to be.

Refusing the orgasm, he pulls out for the nth time, much, much to your chagrin. With a dry throat, perspiring skin and droopy eyes, he delivers a harmless smack to your ass, and says, “Get up. Your turn to work on this.”

And with that, he means making himself comfortable against the back of the bed; letting the muscles of his arms bulge when he lifts them; using both hands to card through his hair, bringing some order into his messy mane.

Then, watching as you sit up, crawling on all fours and nearing his awaiting body.

Your gaze falls to his lap right away as you inch closer. To the shiny, wet member, secured in his fist, moving in it just a little, so as not to explode prematurely. Reserving it for you, and you only.

Such a giant. Towering. Thick enough for you to once again wonder if you can truly fit this inside you. Jungkook is gifted in every way.

And it’s not just the package he’s so proudly touching right now; it’s all of him. The golden skin, the thick thighs, the firm chest and the moles across his body. How his plush lips part further, the more your warmth nears.

Ready for you when you don’t take a seat right away but instead, steer straight towards his mouth, seeking a kiss you so hopelessly need. And for a second, he falls weak to your actions.

Only, until he suddenly yanks you back by your hair, probably reluctantly because…

Even now, his face draws to yours like a magnet, wanting more. Resisting. Extending the misery.

“Sit down,” he instructs, hitting your hanging tits. “Now.”

You do.

You do as quickly as you can; even rolling back your eyes, throwing back your head, unconsciously submitting to the reflex of gripping his shoulders. Bad idea — because he snatches your wrists, working to bring your arms behind your back again. Away from his body.

“Without this. Start.”

You try. You drag your pussy along his cock, up and then back down again; give yourself time to actually take in every little bit of him and how he makes you feel. The muscles of your legs and upper body are in full swing, exhausting your capacities.

But you’ll admit that it’s hard; not because your limbs have turned as wobbly as is usual with this beast, but because you’re awfully out of balance.

As he holds you captive, you’re struggling with the stance, even when he pulls your chest to his, melting the two of you. You don’t voice the difficulty yet, keen on observing his reactions; enduring the tremble of your body.

“So incredibly cooperative,” he repeats, “we make a strong pair, don’t we?”

Tease. Tease. Taking advantage of how much you crave praise.

You cannot pinpoint whether you’re coveting his appetite particularly strongly these days, or whether he’s just now awoken desires unknown to you so far — but his advances leave you salivating. Make you hunger for more.

Odd how you didn’t know you’d enjoy it if he gripped a patch of your hair as he is now, shaking your head, face close enough to you to repeatedly graze his lips against yours. Or that you could tighten around him like this the moment his fingers dig into your cheeks, holding you like an enemy.

“Mmmmh, you are pretty,” he hums, delivering two light slaps to your cheek. He hisses when he feels you constrict again, trapping his cock between your drenched walls, only able to whisper multiple fucked-out, “Pretty, pretty, pretty.”

His fitful breathing doesn’t allow for much interruption of his air flow; his chest is heaving and he seems far more spent than he did in the beginning. But he’s never ready to stop or wave the white flag.

Still succumbing to said hurdles when his lips dash forward, instantly blending his taste with yours as his tongue snakes around yours. His lips move against yours with ferocity and determination. Teeth bite your lower lip softly, giving his aggression a soft outlet.

And it seems to you that he might not pull his claws in again tonight, unleashing all the savage fierceness his lust and envy combine into. Perhaps this will turn into the most ruthless night just yet.

But you’re wrong.

And for once tonight, you don’t mind the 180 turn.

Because the moment he surfaces from the kiss to catch his breath, you use the pause to whisper his name. With a gentle shudder, kissing eyebrows and half-open eyes, you bring your forehead to his, and all of a sudden, he lets you go.

You don’t understand why until you look at him again. Blinking innocently, still not touching him properly, but carefully bringing your fingertips to his legs. The crease between your eyebrows vanishes, allowing them to rise, and you echo, “Kookie…?”

That’s all it takes. You might be hallucinating, but you think you see something in him break. Something shifting back into place, as if he’s going through a change, returning to himself after separating from his mind for a bit.

And he slows down. The dizzying brutality of his pounding leaving you drooling turns into something friendlier. A welcome alteration but…

The change in pace surprises you. Not even inspecting his expressions helps you understand what he might be thinking, what he might be intending to do next. He’s unpredictable in moments like these.

He might turn the tides. Or he might return to his demonic self.

What you don’t realise is how your eyes affect his thumping heart so badly; how you emanate sweetness with all of your being, and how you make this played aggression nearly impossible.

Rendered hypnotised, he understands that’s enough for tonight. This isn’t the true nature the two of you share. What was it again in simple, human words, never enough to describe the celestial feeling within?

In love. Devoted. Ready to do anything. And so, so beautiful.

Jungkook cradles your face, gently massaging the back of your head. His thumb touches your cheek as if you’re fragile, careful to keep you together now and forever. You’re tenderness personified; the object of all his desires.

The definition of a treasure to be protected. And you are—

“You’re the kind of person to kill for.” His warmth breathes into your face when his lips ghost in front of yours, words sugary when he admits, “I cannot do this like I hate you. Because I don’t.”

…If there is one thing aside from you that your husband will remain loyal to forever, it’s his feelings. Not only towards you, but everything he regards the world with.

He always claims he hid most of himself before he met you, but you’re convinced he never stopped being the person he is. That he was merely believing in what others wanted him to believe.

That’s all.

Even now, as his touch falls to the small of your back, he refuses to deny the fondness and care that has grown in his heart, right around your name sheltered in there.

You swallow thickly, touching his waist, and shake your head, “Then don’t. Do it just how you mean it.”

He nods, bringing his fingers back to yours and lifting them as he asks, “Would you like to touch me again?”

“Will you let me?”

A kind laugh meets your curious, yet genuine question. He places your hands on his shoulder, jesting, “Imagine… having the power over you to decide whether to let you or not.”

Bringing his own fingers to your ass, he moves you a bit, and with that, his hardness inside you. “I love it when you are desperate like this, my love. But.” You moan when he urges you to move. “So am I.”

“Jungkook… I’m yours. You can do whatever you want.”

“I can, right? And— in return, I can be whatever you need me to be, too.”

Yours — that’s all. All of him.

The arms you finally touch, up to his shoulders, neck and jaw. The soft lips he’s kept parted ever since you started. The mole on his nose, under his mouth, near his jawline. The kiss he shares with you and the hands clamping at your body.

How he fucks you with a passion you’re certain is reserved for nobody in this world but you. You’re selfish like this; you don’t believe anybody loves like that.

It’s all yours; that’s what you need him to be.

You murmur his name repeatedly, and he pecks your neck dryly. Your sounds change as you near the end, feeling a bubbling sensation in your stomach pleading to be released. Impatiently, you lean back, planting your hands to the mattress, face towards the ceiling.

Jungkook uses the position to latch onto your nipples, fucking you harder now, even if not with the same craze as before. He knows your body; he knows it so well. So you’re not surprised, yet gasping when he brings a finger to your clit, hitting and touching the right stops over and over and over again.

Your body winds on top of him as the chaos inside you unfolds, your shoulders sinking, eyes in the back of your head, upper body so fucking weak. And as he massages circles onto your clit, never rough, and murmurs against your jaw, you lose your mind.

“You’re my love. Gorgeous, beautiful sweetheart. I want to see… this every night.”

Doesn’t he know he will all his life? Doesn’t he know you’ve surrendered every piece of you to him?

Fuck. Fuck—

The knot uncoils the moment he utters the last word, voice dulcet and hazy, so loving and breathy. Your arms give out, threatening to let your body fall, and you rush to find an anchor in his shoulders, holding him, embracing him within a second.

Without a single thought ahead, you blurt, “I’ll— I’ll never want anyone but you. Never.”

“You’re all I know, baby,” he responds in kind, holding you the same, a confession between each kiss to your neck, “I love you. D-did you know? I love you. Love you. Love you so much.”

And God, do you love him.

The waves crashing over you are metres-high, and they’re drowning you ocean-deep. Why does this feel new and crushing every single time? He’s helped you experience this a hundred times. Nobody ever has before.

But you never get used to this. Not to how hard your pussy tightens and loosens over and over again, how your body becomes weightless, needing to be kept upright. How your stomach feels much more free, like you’ve gone through an epiphany.

The world sparkles. You feel ridiculous, alone in your head with these thoughts, but you’re above clouds, and the stars sparkle. What the hell…

“H-how much?” you ask, gripping his black hair, dizzy.

“You cannot ask me. I have no fucking idea,” he curses, “I wish I could measure it, you see? Wish I could show you better. Tell you. Write it in a book.”

You’re fond of books; but he doesn’t know there’s no need for him to create a story, because he’s one himself. Isn’t he? A chapter after another.

He lifts your face from his shoulder, making you look at him. Pushes your hair back, his stare fond. Crashes his lips against yours again before it’s his turn to let go.

Affected by your contractions, he moans against your cheek, closing his eyes before he’s shooting all that he kept back into you. Hot, wet and sticky, loads of it, requiring multiple pumps until he’s drained.

Then, falls back against the railing with you in tow, hiding in your chest as you keep him close to your heart. You touch his tresses, caressing his scalp, matching his breathing until your bodies wind down.

It takes endless minutes in each other’s arms until the burning sensation all over your skin diminishes.

The room has grown darker now, candles burned halfway through. When you allow yourself a glimpse of him, the shadows are dancing across his features, hiding half his face. The light is so faint where it hits him, a gorgeous weak golden that still doesn’t do his own teint justice.

You can’t believe you get to keep this for a lifetime. That this is the very being you have the honour to wake up next to every single morning. That you’re the only one holding his heart, and that he’s the only one matching your soul.

Is this what it means to share everything with someone? To indulge in something far greater than love.

Which… reminds you…

“Jungkook,” you call, and he hums quietly, smiling through it. Eyelids falling, he listens as you ask, “Kook, do you think I feel— or look different?”

There’s a pause in your hushed conversation, a rise of eyebrows. If he wasn’t so tired, he’d sound a lot more concerned, you reckon. Immediately question your thoughts.

Instead, he sounds weaker, yet confused when he mutters, “…Why?”

“Do I?”

Another break in thought. This time to take you in. To lean in just a little, regard you carefully, to let his eyes drag over your being to detect the change you speak of.

But maybe…

“I think you were quieter these days. In thoughts? I assumed it was the Jung thing. But,” he eventually says, “responsibilities didn’t allow me to be around much either. Did I… miss something?”

Were you quieter? Possibly.

Saying you were trapped in your thoughts is an understatement; if he’s figured something out without being around, it’s this much. The utter truth, a successful deduction. But was it the Hoseok rumours?

You can’t yet say for sure. So you choose to not say anything at all.

Only, “That might be it.”

“Other than that, however…” he speaks, moving with a grunt. The hands on your hips are gentle as they instruct you to get up; and unbothered by the seed soon flowing out, he urges you to your back, face soon levitating above you. “You’re still the same.”

A creature of habit, he wipes the drying locks out of your face, kissing the tip of your nose. You’re almost entirely sure that you look like a proper mess — but it’s impossible to not believe him when he claims, “Still the same beautiful woman I fell in love with two years ago.” Another kiss to your eyelid. “Stunning darling.”

“Are you still in love with me the same?”

“No,” he immediately blurts, and if you didn’t know him so well, you’d panic, “of course never the same. Always a little more.”

“Mmmh. And I love you.” You touch the smooth surface of his back, drawing figures over the defined muscles. “So. Does this prove that I wouldn’t run away with some lord?”

He puts on the act of a thinker, purposely teasing you until you hit his bicep. Then, “Yes. But does it prove you won’t run away with a stable boy?”

“…I hate you, Jeon Jungkook.”

The laugh he emits is genuine, so different from the troubled voice you heard less than an hour ago. His old jesting self, he refers to your awkward idea before, mentioning, “I know. You surely got that across tonight. And oh, how you kept looking at me. Pure hatre—”

“Shut up. I gave myself to you tonight or you would’ve begged and whimpered—”

“Oh? How so? Tied me up, hm?” he mocks, fingers cautiously following the veins of your arms before he’s caught your wrists again. He lifts them over your head, trapping you again. “Like this?”

You laugh as his lips trace your neck, the tickling sensation not quite the same as the lust spreading before. Helplessly, you surrender, begging, “Alright. Okay. I apologise for saying that! If you keep going, I will be crawling tomorrow.”

“Is that so bad? Not having to tend to so many things?”

“You’d make it worth it, I’m certain.”

He lets you go the very next moment, sighing before he asks, “Do you feel alright? I was worried about going overboard.”

“No, I am more than alright. Dog-tired but… this was perfect. I am a little happy you got jealous. Do you feel better, too?”

“I feel extraordinarily well.” He keeps his mouth open, pondering on saying more, but as you see his mind whir, you reckon another thought has replaced his previous statement. “I was not jealous. Merely worried.”

“…You yourself have said you are a jealous man.”

“Have you got any evidence? I thought so.” Another snicker in a joyous night, setting the mood for your dreams. “But. You are loved by many, and I admire you for that. And objectively I know I will always love you the most, but… it’s scary.”

“Ah… what is, Kook?”

“Knowing that somebody might want to overtake me. To try better or make you reconsider.”

“They couldn’t. I do not have to tell you… you know me and you know I will be here.”

“Good. I know,” he assures, countless infinitesimal sparkles of yearning in his eyes. They glow even in the shadows of candlelight, even without flames. “I really want this with you.”

“What is that?”

“…Everything.”

Everything.

His thoughts are a repetition of your own. A confession of a forever. Which is why you understand so well what he means, not a single explanation necessary. Because you want it all, too.

Of all the facts existing in your realm and universe, this remains one that you could never doubt. And you’re trying to provide him with the same amount of everything, as well. You are.

Which is why the thought of disappointing him is so unbearable for the time being.

So for now, you’d rather avoid it by keeping your mouth shut just for a little longer.

For all the longing touches revealed last night, Jungkook was certain he’d meet a glowing face the next morning. Sparkly, familiar eyes, taking in all hallways despite already knowing them so well, pointing out a new detail each time as you love to do.

For all the affection revealed last night, he was sure he’d eliminated all doubts and sorrows, every piece of thought and afterthought left of the conversation about other lords and past love.

In such a sense, he finds himself cheerful in his office the following day, enduring the staff’s playful ridicules. Grateful about the comfortable atmosphere, the lightness of the morning. His humour runs off the charts and he catches himself snickering about his own jokes.

You left him bright at least. Hopeful and joyful, with a heart filled with so much love and craze that is barely comprehensible for a mortal mind.

When you stroll into his office with your hands folded, his dark gems glitter, lights dancing in his pupils. He didn’t see much of you yet, despite from the tiny moment he left you sleeping in bed, kissing your shoulder and removing the lock off your face.

Tending to his duties, only torn away from you when he was urged to do so.

“Good morning,” you say in your sweetest voice, so small and soft.

And he hears the alteration in your words, so vastly different from last night. But your eyes look somewhat swollen, sleep still apparent in them, so it’s easy to give into the first instinct and blame a short night for your fatigue.

“Good morning, my love,” he responds, silencing as he nears your body, tenderly aligning your fingers and raising yours to his mouth.

As he kisses every knuckle, you ask, “Working so early?”

“Did not choose to,” he murmurs in between pecks. He concludes the gesture with rubbing a thumb ever-so-gently against the back of your hand before he leads your palm to his face. “I can come back to you any moment, though.”

You smile, but the blinking of your eyes is slow, and your reserved stance grows. He finds it odd when you hesitate, but you’re faster than him when you speak, “No, no. I didn’t want to disturb you, please do what you need to do.”

“Then… keep me company?”

“I will, but later, yes? I was thinking of a brief outing.”

It’s not unusual for you to seek fresh air or promenade along a nearby waterfront. Ever since you left town, you’ve grown even fonder of nature. The blossoming flowers, the sun, the summer rain and the rainbows afterwards match your energy.

But your usual light is missing; you don’t look quite downcast, but moreso worried about something. Your chest rises a bit too hard when you breathe in, and the nerves burn hotter when he asks, “Where to?”

“Just nearby. Picking flowers.”

Maybe he’s thinking about it too hard. Maybe you’re honestly just drowsy and opting for the crisp air, hoping for it to clear your mind. And maybe your demeanour will have changed by the time you return.

Might at least just be worth the wait, right?

So he doesn’t intervene with your thoughts, merely nodding. He leans into your tender palm, still resting on his warm cheek, and presses a careful kiss into it, as though a mistake could make you run away.

“Sure,” he concurs at last, “rush back to me. And show me the flowers you collect, alright?”

Which you don’t really oblige to, keeping a safe distance from his yearning, worried heart for an hour or two.

It becomes increasingly difficult to focus on work with you away; inquiring about you doesn’t do much, because how could the staff within these walls know more than he does? Would you confide in them but not in him?

Are you afraid of something?

When the attention drifts off his work eventually and his gaze keeps switching to the view out the window, to a path that you might be walking, he plummets into his chair. Waits. Fiddling.

“Dojoon,” he calls, immediately met with a guard outside the room, speaking to the stiff, polite form, “has my wife returned yet? Have you seen Aza around?”

Denying his lord’s questions, Dojoon shakes his head, causing Jungkook’s chest to deflate, and informs him that no, he has neither noticed the presence of you nor of your chaperone.

Fitting, a timing so appropriate, because the guard has only nearly finished his sentence and increased Jungkook’s concerns when footsteps echo through the hallway outside. Jungkook cranes his neck momentarily, hoping for an end to his perturbation.

And at last, some deity seems to have heard his prayers, even if, in hindsight, he knows he’ll probably have nothing to worry about. You’ve been away for longer, albeit usually announcing your departure more cheerily and with less uncertainty.

Which, to his pleasure, doesn’t torture your expressions as much anymore as you finally enter the room. The hands are still folded, a shawl wrapped around your back and gracefully falling over your arms.

You’re always so pretty; so stunning that he nearly forgets the issue on hand.

That your folded fingers don’t carry anything.

Which is not too suspicious, it shouldn’t be. You might have handed the flowers to somebody, might have hastened back into his room without thinking of his prior request.

But his paranoid mind has been wreaking havoc lately, and he hates, hates, hates it — yet, can’t stop it.

So he despises the feeling in his chest when he asks, “Where are the flowers?”

“I…” you unfold your hands, inspecting your fingers as if you forgot they were vacant of said bloom. “Staff took them.”

Of course. That’s the most logical option, one he considered. So why…

He inches closer to you, nodding towards Dojoon and signalling for him to leave. As the guard exits right away, Jungkook lightly touches a strand of your hair, tucking it back as he so gently wonders, “Where did you go, baby?”

“Just out for a while. I told you before.”

“But…” You swallow as he talks, nervous about something and suddenly fidgeting with your way too warm cashmere shawl. Only looking up when he breaks his barriers and asks, “What’s the matter?”

“What?”

“I do not know. You tell me. What’s the matter? Is it because of something we said last night? Or because of…”

There. He said it. Stupid unease that might prove wrong and oh-so-utterly and truly stupid soon.

Of course he’s had this in his mind. But somehow, he’s started to wonder… do you feel okay? Are you ill?

“What?” you echo, shaking your head. “No. What are you saying—”

“Something must be bothering you, I reckon, and you…”

“No, I think I just,” you start, pausing, tonguing your cheek until you turn your body a little. Almost facing the door. “I probably only need more rest. I feel tired and you wore me out so much, you see—”

It’s meant as a joke, and he’s sure he even recognises a smile — but the mood won’t allow for otherwise very welcome jests. Before you can even reach for the door handle, he places a flat hand on the surface of the door, ensuring that Dojoon didn’t leave it ajar even a tiny gap.

Half caged in, you look at him in disbelief, lips slightly parted as you say, “Won’t you let me go out?”

“Talk to me, sweetheart.” The genuine distress in his expression hurts you; just because you’re so fearful of disappointing him, or putting him under more anxiety. No reason, no reason. “Tell me what’s going on.”

You want to. It’s just — he’s been forlorn before. You’ve seen his lows and seen the reasons for it. Waded through parts of his pain with him. The news you want to deliver are merry and colossal, but you don’t know if he’s ready.

And fuck. You’re taking too long to answer, aren’t you?

You are. You see it in his eyes. How they start to burn, how frustration grows so apparent in them. Never replacing the care and worries, but certainly furrowing his eyebrows the way he often does when irritated.

“What’s troubling you?” he tries again, keeping himself from snarling. “Where did you go? Did you… did you see him somewhere? I apologise if I said or did something wrong last night. If I hurt you.”

Keeping himself from snapping. Because your eyes are so big, and your stare so innocent and you look so concerned for him rather than for yourself, and… and…

Other than every reason in this universe, he can’t bear to be mad at you.

“Hm?” he voices.

“No,” you finally reveal, “it’s not him at all.”

“I know… Of course I know. But what is it?”

You blow out air. “I am…”

“Yes,” he interjects when your pause proves longer than a moment, “are you ill? Oh goodness, this is nerve-wracking. I think I might fai—”

“Jungkook,” you interrupt, both hands dashing to his arms. He’s out of breath, unfiltered craze in his eyes, as if expecting the worst. So you free him of his misery, taking a deep breath, and then, outrightly, reveal, “I’m expecting.”

…The world stills.

You hear it and you feel it; are certain that all movement has ceased, that the birds have halted mid-flight. That the wind has ebbed down. That the people down in the village have frozen in whatever state they were in before.

Selfishly, you believe that the centre of the world has shifted from the sun to right where you’re standing, right where the love of your life has paused. Where he’s looking at you and you only, barely blinking, out of words, lungs as dry as yours.

“My lo—” you start at the same time as he mumbles, “What?”

So you speak on, “I have not been bleeding. I went to consult the doctor and—”

“Outside? Where?” he asks, the memory and logic in his mind so disrupted that he finds himself in a state of utter bafflement and insanity. “Why didn’t you go to the mansion’s—”

“He went to his family for the week. Do you remember?”

“Right… right. What did you… You just went?”

You nod. “Spoke to him about all the things I have been experiencing and he’s certain those are all signs for me expecting… it seems.”

“…You didn’t tell me.”

“Because I wasn’t sure. And I… I know how much this scares you, so I didn’t want to stir chaos in case it turned out to be nothing.”

Which is a truth you weren’t sure you’d be able to spell out. Jungkook has wanted children; he has mentioned it on several occasions. But ever since you fathomed his deepest fears, laying in a fatherless past and a sorrowful childhood, you’ve been careful.

He’s affected. He always has been. And perhaps you’ll see glimpses of those very worries the more your pregnancy advances; let’s see.

For now, however, they don’t seem to roam his mind.

Instead, he shakes his head, hints of an expression creeping onto his face that you know too well. The first sign of approaching tears; of a swelling heart. Of love growing so fondly and fast that it overflows.

Every single tongue-tied reaction gathers in eventual words when he summarises, “I barely know what to say.” And right there it is; underneath his eye, on the apple of his cheek. One single tear. And with it, a breaking voice. “I do not know what to say.”

But he knows what to do. And what he does is tilt his head, sighing into the stuffy air of the office, not bothering to wipe away the tears — and you can’t either as he grips your hands. Smushes them in his. Calls forth your own liquid affection, blurring your vision.

And then you’re pulled off your spot, crushed in a long-overdue embrace. Before you know it, you’re safely secured in his arms, one a snake around your body, the other hand holding the back of your head as if you could disappear.

He hides his lips in your hair, still not able to put his thoughts into words. But he cries silently against you, leftover panic subsiding and giving way to raw sentiments.

“Jung— kook—” you hiccup, and he shakes his head, possibly keeping you from sobbing; yet, not faring better. “I apologise for— for keeping it from y—”

“No. No, you…” he takes a deep breath, and you know without looking that he’s closing his eyes. Putting his chin on top of your head. “You’re the only one who’s ever cared like this. And shielded me like this. How do you care so much? No, I know. Because I do, too…”

His words turn into a murmur, and he swallows a syllable or two, but it doesn’t matter. You hear his heart, and it speaks volumes without him needing to.

You could cry all your life. And you could love all your life.

“So,” he adds, “we are finally growing, yes? You and I and another. The only another we need, right? Fuck the rest of the world.”

You nod against his chest with a broken laugh, palms wandering further up from the small of his back, and you try to hold him as tight as he’s holding you.

There is no need for words and confessions anymore. There is no need for anything at all; just this very thing. And this very touch. These tender sounds of your sobs, ongoing until they turn into a light and quiet mingling of smiles and tear-filled laughter.

“I promise to you,” Jungkook finally says after a minute, his voice calmer, steadier, “I will do anything. Everything.”

Pause. Waiting to collect his thoughts. All those of lords and kings knocked out within a moment.

And then—

“I will do so much better.”

Over the course of the one year you have spent within the same walls as your husband, you haven’t just learned how to share the same home but the same habits, too.

Some are deliberate — reading the Friday newspaper together in the morning; craving eggs on Saturdays; taking walks to wind down from the week on Sundays. They have become a reflex; unspoken activities you indulge in without the other pointing them out anymore.

Others developed accidentally — like, unconsciously counting the windows you pass in the long hallways, because you caught him doing it before. Or, not being able to sleep well unless you have bid each other a good night. Or — in such a case, seeking each other out once the other side of the bed feels too cold.

It’s not rare for Jungkook, who’s still learning to handle responsibilities, to overwork himself deep into the night. At times, you find him at the edge of the bed, still reading a document. On other days, you tap blindly along the walls of the mansion, meeting him in the library.

Tonight, it’s neither.

The place looks eerie, somewhat haunted in the dark. Still adjusting to the darkness, you stroll from room to room idly, trying to make out a light, or a shadow, a sighting of the man you woke up without.

It must be late; or incredibly early. You can’t say when he awoke and skulked off; the sky is still pitch black outside, but sunrise might break in soon.

A few minutes later, akin to an eternity, you finally push the unlocked door to the study, lit by faint flames. Jungkook flinches when it squeaks open and you step in with featherlight steps. He nearly throws the book into the air, catching it as it threatens to slide off his knee.

The gentle heart only calms once it recognises you, taking a deep, shuddering breath in. He isn’t angry; rather delighted to see your figure standing in the dark, in a long, white nightgown and big, worried eyes.

As much as he’s able to perceive from his spot, you look relieved, fingers fiddling, and he doesn’t think he could love anybody more than you, ever. Not when you’re here steering towards your goal, obviously having scoured the mansion to find him.

“You’re so light on your feet, love,” he faux-complains, tutting, “thought you were a ghost.”

“Oh. A pretty ghost?”

“One I’d let haunt me any day.”

You let out a gentle laugh, stepping closer until you’re towering over him, “They say one glows when with child.”

“If you glow any more, then…” he whispers as you take a careful seat on his lap, simultaneously securing you there with an arm and covering his eyes. Charading being blinded by the light.

How dramatic.

Shaking your head, you take a look down to his fingers, following his touch until you’ve opened the shut book to the page his thumb serves as a bookmark for. The cover isn’t particularly telling, a mere title on it too small to read.

The chapter he was reading is an advanced one, the page starting in the middle of an ongoing sentence. but as most stories beloved to dreamy poets go, kindness prevailed in the end.

You don’t ask for the content right away; rather, you wonder, “Jungkook, why are you still up? And here of all places.”

The golden candlelight highlights the fatigue in his eyes — but it makes his heart-stirring smile evident, too. A note of pride resonates in his voice as he lifts the book, holding it towards you as if that doesn’t worsen the lighting drastically.

“It has lullabies and bedtime stories,” he says. You lean in, staring at the right page, and recognise colourful, faded illustrations. “Father used to read them to me. I remember how they shaped me, so I— I wanted to practice, too.”

No matter how many arrows Cupid shoots into your heart, Jungkook always seems to outdo the beneficent god. He’s diligent in watering and growing the affection in you. Tending to your heart — just like that, effortlessly.

Despite your tired mind, your emotions are on overdrive; because of your tired mind, you, in the tone of a statement, repeat, “You were preparing.”

“Is that odd?” he immediately blurts, a little too loud for the room. When you shake your head in denial, he nods in comfort. “I was afraid I was doing too much. This book helped. There is another one on parenting, but,” he reaches for his desk with a groan, putting another, smaller piece on top of the other one, “but I feel like this advice is a given. Look.”

He flips through the pages, halting at one that outlines tips and tricks in imperatives. The first you lay eyes on is already one that proves his point, odd as you read aloud, "An affectionate household works wonders upon a young mind. Remember to, uh— cultivate a serene and harmonious family atmosphere!"

“Fair enough, is it not?” Jungkook jests, shutting the book again.

The smile he flashes, the one you never hesitate to join is a peculiar one. Utterly sweet, undeniably handsome; yet, strange, considering the history the two of you share.

You wonder once again.

When did he become this tender? The boy you knew, smirking so slyly, evil words shot towards you in a group of fellow pals — none of the damaging energy remains today. Today… sitting on this very lap, going into raptures.

Carrying his child.

Then again, people change, but never thoroughly. A basic foundation, the core that one is made of always healthily and steadily remains. Jungkook’s traits, the ones you have learned to love and cherish, were always part of him.

He just needed an outlet. Somebody to practise them on; a lifelong companion to pour the softness onto.

And things never end there. No, they go on and on, a flood of sparkly emotions. Like, when he gets into a more casual conversation now, never quite realising that his little statements are pulling you above clouds.

”I asked some of the staff about their experience with their children. Did you know some of them have young toddlers themselves?”

”Mihee gave me a list of things to be careful about once birth comes around. It sounds painful, darling. You can do it, right?”

”You can. I’ll be there, too. You can certainly do it better than I will, possibly.”

He tells you he has been working a little less these days; having struggles forming a clear thought. Informs you about his spontaneous and perhaps too early decision of planting a tree just for the child. Explains to you how to not hold a baby, the information courtesy of Mihee.

And then, he kisses your forehead, sucking in a breath as if shivering. He adjusts for a moment, never pushing you off his lap, and then eventually, quietly, admits, “It is so frightening, as well, though, isn’t it?”

“Hm?”

“This… this whole thing.” You gaze at him with gentle worry, suspecting what’s to come, but he misinterprets it for doubt. “I am not anyhow indicating that I don’t want this. Not at all. I wouldn’t want it with anyone but you.”

You nod understandingly, clarifying that you never assumed such. But he continues, “Still, I can’t help but wonder how well I will do.”

You could tell him that it’s a valid and often occurring worry. That no parent-to-be will ever dive into this with full confidence and a pure lack of insecurities. But you know why he’s saying this.

Not everyone has a dead father. Not everyone deals with an abusive household growing up. And not everyone was fed with doubts and deep-rooted issues that provoke such hesitant thoughts.

“Is that why you are reading books on parenting, my love?” you inquire, speaking slowly.

“I would guess so,” he answers, “I want to be there. I’d hate it if I had to leave… you never know what might happen, you know? Or maybe, if I was here, yet tried too hard and then failed in the process—”

“First of all,” you interrupt, “do not make me imagine a life without you. Second of all… we are thinking about it in such a theory. I reckon that… once you hold someone in your arms,” you put your head onto his, keeping him close, the free hand seeking his, “it feels more natural. Love happens naturally.”

“Does it? I have never been a father before.”

You chuckle, “So I hope! But. What was it like to love me? A process? Progress? Were you scared of loving me?”

“I was.” The answer is unexpected. Then again, it’s not. Certainly rapid, though. “You’re an unstoppable force. Of course it is scary to love you. What if one messes up? That’s nothing that can be forgiven.”

“You always speak too highly of me.”

“I am not blinded. I see it clearly and I mean every word. Loving you was frightening, but it developed…” He removes his touch from your fingers, instead tracing up the skin of your arm until his digits skim your elbow; echoing, “Naturally.”

“Mmmh. And does it ever feel like you’re trying too hard?”

“No. You’re right, it doesn’t. It just happens.”

“So,” you whisper, “who’s to say this will be different? And to tell you a secret: You’re doing so amazing loving me. If you can give this one the same amount as you give me, we will be fine.”

He hums, nodding instantly. This must boost his confidence.

He’d be a fool to ever doubt the sentiments he houses for you. He knows he loves you well, because he regards you as worth it. Because he vowed to provide to you what you deserve; the intensity of that adoration will never be subject to confusion.

“I will share another secret with you,” you clear your throat, shifting. “Can you imagine how terrifying it can be for a woman to leave home after so long? How, considering the role of the woman, the thought of living with a man can be intimidating?”

Jungkook’s head sinks in thought. Big eyes fixate on a random spot and a plump, rosy lower lip curls outward, pouting. Another hum before he does a head tilt and confesses, “I haven’t thought about it yet. But… if I had a daughter and she left, I would be scared to death for her well-being.”

“Yes. And she would be, as well. It can be difficult. But to tell you something… Despite my fears and the adjustments I needed to make here, I didn’t fear for my well-being. I knew you’d take good care of me.”

You swallow, sighing when he leans in, lips close to your chest, “And if this is what you consider your nature, Jungkook… Then I do not think you have to worry about anything.”

“Hmmm. This makes so much sense. You are such a bright woman, did you know?” he says, rubbing your arm, then your back. Buries his face in your breasts; his voice vibrates against you as he speaks, “You are everything good. And incredibly smart.”

That’s what he’s saying. The true feelings run much deeper than that; you understand.

The sudden affection that washes over one on the best days. When it overwhelms the senses and dips the air in vibrant shades of pink. Feelings of invincibility and eternal happiness.

Yet, hard, or even impossible, to grasp into appropriate sentences. What Jungkook is doing is merely spitting the most harmless of his love confessions, because his true thoughts cannot be constellated into actual words.

“I love you. I do love you. So, so much,” he mutters, scattered kisses between words a habit now, “and I want to take care of you forever. I will bring you tea. And carry you to bed. I will even cook for you, I do not care about the intensity of effort…”

He’s said that before — delivering whatever you crave, whenever you crave it. To your surprise, the royal you thought spoiled previously has a knack for bringing delicious creations to the table. You know because he gets bored sometimes. Takes some work off the staff’s overworked shoulders.

“Speaking of,” he soon inquires, just as you foresaw, “are you hungry? Are you eating well? We should sneak into the kitchen.”

You shake your head immediately, telling him that eating before sleep does not do well to the stomach. Tell him that it is far too late to hide in the corners of the mansion the way you hid around town when engaged.

That now, it might be much easier to stroll back into your room. Slip under the covers. Smile and talk and drift into sleep.

And you promise that you’re already well fed as long as he fills you with the care your dreamy youth would always read about.

But the clouds you float above dissipate and drop your body into a fall, from heaven to absolute hell.

You’re not sure what you expected from this entire affair; perhaps you should’ve known that carrying and leading a full human being into the world wouldn’t occur so blissfully as the pregnancy itself was. And yes — compared to this, the pregnancy was a bed of roses, no matter how often you whined.

Damn the society around you. The only knowledge you had of this moment came from the few books Jungkook brought you every now and then, his gentle warnings that this might hurt, and the brief conversations you had with your mother about the existence of people.

One or two comments from your doctor here and there.

Oh, it will be all good!

But that’s it, isn’t it? Women do not get informed properly; you do not fully understand the concept of such things until they finally roll around.

And the day you wake up once again with the highest expectations, you finally speak those hopes into existence. As you walk up the stairs shortly after dinner, you feel a liquid drain your legs; confused until your stomach so agonisingly twists.

A punch to your guts.

The moment it happens, your heartbeat accelerates, its sound echoing in your ears — for the very first second, you fear the worst. Did something go wrong? Is something bad happening?

But it doesn’t seem the case, because the tumult around you suggests otherwise entirely: the royal mansion breaks into an immediate excited bustle. You don’t know how they do it, but word spreads like a wildfire.

As soon as the world starts spinning and you let out one or two groans, slowly turning into yelps of pain, you’re escorted to the empty bedroom. Barely minutes later, you’re accompanied by the doctor residing in your mansion these days.

Jungkook’s doing.

Ordered the physician Sang and the midwife Yumi — yes, both — to spend their days here because this is the time they predicted for the baby to arrive at. Nine months… plus, minus a couple days.

The skies have darkened and the seasons changed. It’s colder now, but you feel hot, tortured by your body temperature as staff members drape more blankets over your body, comfortable pillows under you, water and cloths beside you.

And among the blurring faces you perceive under the growing pain, you don’t see his.

Not now; not a couple minutes later; not even more than half an hour has passed. Have they not informed him? He went out for a stroll, but he couldn’t have gone this far.

Your pleas were whispers before, asking for him, yet somewhat ignored, as if you never uttered them at all. So when the light contractions turn moderate, threatening to worsen over time, you raise your voice, “Where’s my husband?! Are you being serious? Get him o—”

“Lady Jeon,” Yumi calmly starts; your possibly irritated mind perceives the probably neutral tone as condescending, and as such, your title makes you internally cringe. “We cannot.”

“What?”

“Husbands aren’t allowed at childbirth. But—”

“What?!” you repeat, rage redirected from the pain to the person only trying to help. You’ll feel guilty later, you know. “This is his child, too. He’s a goddamn part of th—”

The blunt curses are unlike you, and your brain understands; they understand, too, because they have seen and appreciated your true nature for the past few days. Maybe that’s why they don’t take your outbursts too personally; or maybe because they have done this before.

And you know, you know that whatever bond you share with Jungkook, you probably can’t breach society’s rules and the things it deems inappropriate. You weren’t aware that he wasn’t allowed in here; the books didn’t teach you that.

But you should’ve known.

“The Lord will be with you the moment this is over,” Sang promises, preparing whatever he needs to. You’re barely looking, only praying to the ceiling. “He won’t miss a moment with his child. Now, listen to what I say.”

You do. You are.

It just gets so hard with time; the pauses between the contractions seem to shorten and then they vanish. The intensity grows, each time a little more than before; and every other minute, you’re sure you’ve reached the peak, but you never have.

Then, everything starts spinning, your skin soaked in sweat and the little one moving inside, your vision blurring… have hours passed already?

You don’t know. You don’t care — you want this to be over.

But the warm liquid between your thighs, the urge to push, along with the midwife’s words and reassurances, indicate that you’re almost there.

And that’s when it happens. Not the end of it all. Not the appearance of whoever you’ve been anticipating for so long.

But the aggressive thump at the door, repeated and rapid. It hurls your heart from your chest into your throat, your breathing a little more arhythmic than before and you nearly cannot imagine who might be provoking chaos so close to the end.

Then again, could it truly be such a surprise?

Because when the door opens a slit, a familiar face peeking, something in you stirs so hard that you nearly jump into a standing position, pain be damned. Adrenaline rushes through you as a hand pushes you back again; you must’ve risen a couple inches, calling a name.

“You can at least tell me how she is,” Jungkook’s shaky voice inquires near the door, louder than he probably intends. His words are filled with anxiety, and you know he cried before. “I deserve to know.”

Sang hesitates; even in such an advanced state, you still hear his composed words, as calm as he’s been taught to be. “She’s been bleeding a little. We are, however, taking care of it.”

“…What is a little?”

“Bleeding is a common occurrence. It’s just…” The man clearly leans in, because you hear him a bit worse now, yet well enough to understand why your thighs feel so oddly wet and warm, and you so weak. “Somewhat more than it should be. But she’s nearly done, so it’ll be—”

“No,” Jungkook resists, “this is unspeakably stupid.”

Not the man speaking to him, and not anything about what you’re going through, what so many women a day must be going through.

But the distance — you know. And when you move your head towards the open door, meeting his eyes at just the right moment, almost hidden behind Sang’s figure, they widen. Once again, you know why.

Because he’s snapped.

“Jungkook—” you murmur, and it’s enough.

With a combination of impatient aggression and respectful care for the physician, he pushes past the arm blocking the entry to his own bedroom. Someone in the room catches onto Jungkook’s sleeve, but he shakes it off without ever averting his gaze from you.

Yumi follows her responsibilities without a moment of hesitation, nearly leaning over your body as she warns somewhat shyly even, “You are not allowed to be here, I apologise, but…”

But her message is sharply cut in the air before it even reaches Jungkook, because he finally breaks eye contact with you, instead redirecting the flaming pupils towards her.

You don’t see much else than the bottom of his jaw, but you’ve seen the stare before.

When he manages a business that irritates him. When he gets into a rare but bad argument with you. You saw it when he met his teasing friends again, way after your engagement, ready to mock you. And when he faced the idiocy his uncle committed.

Intimidated, Yumi leans back, nodding just once, probably accepting that should whatever myth about childbirth come to life, it’d be your problem. But Jungkook has always been careful; doesn’t believe in the warnings of infections and other unspeakable things that apparently occur when the husband joins the birthing process.

“You are almost ready to push. Just a bit more,” she informs you instead, taking her place at the end of the bed, taking a glimpse under the blanket over your legs.

You feel it, too. Your body is telling you to.

“This is so stupid,” Jungkook repeats, taking a seat on the chair shoved behind him. His hands seek out yours, clutching it immediately. “Hours of waiting and hoping you’re alright? Incredibly dumb, isn’t it?”

“I know,” you say, faintly nodding, only noticing how much you’re crying when he wipes away a stray tear, “I told them. It’s taking so long, Jungkook…”

“Yes, I figured it might, but… but,” he starts, waterline shimmering, bangs already damp — where did he run from to you? “It will be over and so worth it.”

“Read it in… a book?” He nods, and you chuckle as much as possible. “You’ve been reading so much.”

“More than ever! I have never read so many books before, you know?” He sniffles. “And still nothing prepared me. Do you know what happened, darling?”

He’s fighting tears until he can’t. A single one rolls down his cheek and over his mouth, his smile remaining intact, even if somewhat damaged by the profuse emotions. His lower lip trembles like yours.

You’re in no mindset to answer, but his voice, his words, his touch soothe your heart. Lessen the pain, even though in reality and in theory, they don’t.

How does any woman do this without her beloved?

“Two hours in, and I fainted.”

Immediately, your eyes shoot open, your fingers squeezing his, but before you can utter your worries, he shakes his head and continues, “They kept me in there and guarded me like a child. I was scheming how to escape… climbing out the window.”

He smiles when you laugh again, sniffling again, and concludes, “Then they told me they had heard you were struggling and that you were screaming more often. And the room was so hot, as well — it is winter, for Heaven’s sake! And I just…”

Shaking his head, he emphasises the embarrassment of the moment, aware that you cannot talk much, but guiding you through it nevertheless. Speaking his mouth wound, “You’re the one doing this. I did nothing.”

“You did,” you manage, “it is not the same, but you were there.”

“I was there. But you’re doing this, yet I fainted. I would’ve been with you so much earli—”

His soft conversation is soon interrupted when you scream again, your chin quivering, head thrown back when another excruciating contraction catapults you almost into unconsciousness.

Somebody wipes the sweat off your hot forehead for the millionth time, and finally, finally, you feel something happening.

But Jungkook can’t contain his concerns, an observer who can’t feel any of this, only seeing the love of his life sobbing, yelling, squeezing her eyes shut until they hurt. You hear him ask, “What?”

“Just… blood,” Yumi’s voice answers at the same moment as another pair of hands start massaging your stomach for whatever reason, “just…”

“Is that bad?” Jungkook wants to know, out of breath.

“It’s not great, but it won’t be fatal.”

“What? Is she…” He stops for a second, and you see him looking at you through half-lidded eyes, then back at the headless body, covered by the blanket, “God. Then do something!”

You rub a thumb over the back of his hand, fully breathless, already feeling veins pop as you push. And once more. Then say, “It’s alright. It…it will be alright.”

“I should be telling you that! Is that why they mock men? Huh?” He looks back and forth, and you want to laugh, barely managing to listen as you focus on the pushes. You hear his words faintly, but they help. “I am guessing you are feeling it quite a bit as opposed to me, yes?”

You’re crying harder when you shut your eyes again, back arching, yelling out sarcastic words, “No! N–not feeling a thing!”

Your upper body is killing you. The pressure is unbearable, the sensation burning. Through it all, as you near the finishing line, wishing to skip these minutes, he keeps encouraging, “This is so amazing. Just a little more. Almost… almost do—”

The last word is swallowed, quiet, barely spoken. Maybe because his voice is breaking, too. But maybe, because it’s interrupted by another, much shriller cry of change. Entering a world so new is surely scary.

Somebody knows it even better than you, because the first ever sounds of the baby once it finally emerges heal and break your heart. How can that be? You haven’t even touched it yet.

Then, how are you already caught by such an… odd feeling? Floating somewhere between reality and a dream, not quite realising that you’re actually hearing the crying. Isn’t a child just what you were a while ago, too?

You remember the moment you first met Jungkook so vividly. In the rain, attempting to soothe his sorrows, trying to figure out what misery had ambushed the disconsolate boy.

You were a child back then, too. That wasn’t long ago, was it? Are you really married to the same being now, sharing your all with yet another existence that is yelling away in this very room?

Overwhelmed by someone you only felt and cherished through your own skin, without ever touching, without ever speaking to it?

“Is it… a girl or a boy?” you want to know.

Jungkook takes a stand, leaving your hand for just a moment, but Yumi and the rest are busy tending to the bloody and fresh child. Wrapping it in a blanket. Holding it carefully. Cutting off the umbilical cord — a relatively young term Jungkook told you about.

“It’s… a girl, Lady Jeon.”

A girl.

Oh God. The father’s beauty. The mother’s wit. A lion-heart and a strong-willed mind. If the two of you are combined, that’s what comes out, doesn’t it?

And all of her, all of what she is is yours. And you’re hers.

Jungkook doesn’t get to inch too close to his flesh and blood, because Yumi turns away; you’re too tired to be angry, albeit a little relieved when she lets you know extra gently, “We’ll just clean her up and get her back to you immediately. You can hold her then.”

You let your arms sink, and Jungkook comes rushing back to you. Instead of grabbing your hand again, he places a palm to your forehead, wiping at it, moving back the hair. The calming gesture helps you wind down, even though you’re nowhere close to being yourself again.

The aftermath of the pain remains, but you’re eternally grateful for the end of the contractions. For the ceasing of your screams. For the temperature coming down, your breathing calming just gradually.

And for—

“Thank you, my love,” you mutter absent-mindedly, noticing when his movements slow down. You’re so dizzy. “For being with me through all this nevertheless. I do not know how they expected me to do it without you.”

“Well… they did not know I read all those books. I mean, you heard it. I’m more or less a certified royal midwife now.”

You can’t help but let out an unexpected snicker, still too exhausted to open both eyes. You crack one of them a split apart, teasing, “My midwife fainted.”

“We have bad days, too. No?”

You hear the actual midwife’s voice jest something in agreement, widening your smile, and state, “Then. In that case, you need to redeem yourself, yes? How— about a crown for our baby?”

When you look at him properly, you see new tears emerge. He’s trying his best not to cry — but with you so close, alive and courageous, and a child weeping away a couple feet from your bed… how could he hold back?

“Well, I was thinking of a nightdress with a tiny crown print. A real crown might be a bit much, don’t you think?”

The counter-jest is already forming on your tongue, something about toys and humility and joy combined into some type of coherent sentence. But as Yumi turns towards you, holding the vulnerable, now calmer baby in her arms so carefully, you lose track of your thoughts.

Even from afar, you hear the tiny sounds. Noises of comfort, remainders of the crying. You see a miniscule hand with petite fingers curling and uncurling before they disappear close to her face, hidden behind the blanket.

You can’t see much more from down here on the bed, sinking into the mattress. You attempt to get up a little, but you still feel faint, taking it step by step until someone from the staff rushes to your side. Helps you sit up.

In that time, Jungkook has already taken upon the offer to hold her first, his stance unbearably and sweetly cautious. As if he’s holding freshly crafted glass. No… much more careful than that.

He draws a breath in, and you see the furrowed eyebrows. The shine in his eyes. How he looks at her with utter, pure, unfiltered, raw affection until he can’t bear it anymore. Averts his gaze for just a second to blink the tears out of his eyes, trying not to let them fall on her face.

His lips remain parted, focusing on breathing, cradling her. You see the knotted ball of a dozen emotions in his stare, each string made of a different sentiment.

Like a fierce protective instinct, surging through him as it does through you. Awe and wonder, marvelling at her delicate features. And a smile, a little laugh, an obvious sign of endless elation. Speechlessness.

Without words, he says—

I’ll keep you safe.

You’re so perfect.

I would die for you.

All summarised in a quiet, “I can’t believe it.”

He’s close to you, and you reach out to him, touching his knee softly with a palm, rubbing until he looks at you. Shooting a curious look, he shakes his head, barely any reason behind, before he says, “She’s curled up. Touching her face.”

“Is she… looking at you?”

“Barely opening her eyes. Just a slit, and… it’s all dark pupils and nothing else, you know? But…” His next breath is shaky, his upper body trembling; the baby with him. You wait patiently, expecting anything but what he says next. “She’s even prettier than you.”

“Shut up,” you immediately blurt, laughter mixed with relief. It’s hard to speak; there’s a clump in your throat. “Yet… it’s so easy to believe you.”

“See?”

He leans in, moving naturally, gracefully, and you widen your arms, ready to welcome her in the first embrace, and once she settles and you get comfortable and lean back again, you realise—

He’s so right.

The slight crack she opened her eyes to. And the small tongue darting out every now and then. A hand on her face, arms close to her body, as if guarding herself. No weight on your arms at all; cheeks that remind you of some fluffy pastry.

You don’t know her yet, but you already know her name. You haven’t spoken to her, but you’ve already internalised the shrill voice. And the face is new to you, but you do already treasure it.

Does she feel the same? It’s crazy… This is crazy.

In theory, you know most newborn babies look similar. You know they sound the same and act the same. You’re aware that they need to be cleaned thoroughly, and that they need to grow into more than this little bundle in your arms.

But, perhaps as a mother, you can’t deny how gorgeous she is.

You already know — already pronounce her the diamond of every season and every year to come.

They say that love opens your eyes to new colours. Unlocks a path to brighter sunrises and clearer nights. They say in every second of loving somebody another star is hung into the sky, shedding more light onto the world.

There’s utter truth to these fairytales and supper anecdotes; but they never quite mention how draining a life as a mother can be, too.

That it’d be torture to your once bright mind; that you’d wake up in pain and beg for sleep and never quite receive it. That you’d realise how mean your mind could be to you after experiencing such heart-shattering worship the moment you saw her first.

The nights are difficult, but Jungkook exerts an effort equal to yours. You’re grateful when he takes a few days off as needed. Constantly shows his appreciation for your hard work and refuses to let you do this alone.

And you both agreed. You want the nanny to interfere as little as possible; want to keep the child’s attention glued to you for the most part, but with a balance that allows her to never shy away from other people, either.

Like, when your and Jungkook’s family visited a while ago; not once did you feel like she couldn’t handle a moment without you. Was switched from one hold to another, moving towards whoever was ready to provide affection.

She’s a social butterfly. Doesn’t fear strangers. But you still help her familiarise herself with you, independent from a nanny who’d enable more of your time to yourself, but less time with your baby.

And neither you nor Jungkook urges for that distance.

It’s never easy.

You’ve cried more often than your fingers can count, on your last legs as you wept into Jungkook’s clothes. Feeling a palm wiping at your tears a dozen times. Motherhood always sounded so gorgeous, but it hurts, too.

Then again…

See, then again, it’s easy to circle back to the metaphor of the sun and the stars, the fresh start to your life that cannot be replaced by any other experience. A million little moments that wrap you into your own bubble. The three of you and nobody else.

They render each of those troubles worthless; you cherish them with an unspeakable vigour, aiding yourself as your exhaustion fades once faced with warm, sunlit afternoons as today’s.

Jungkook offered to watch over her as you wallowed in the breeze and the walk you desired for so long. It’s been too long since you enjoyed the miles outside; steep hills and green fields, accompanied by the sound of birds you yet need to study.

Then down to the village, then another stroll back up again. You sought out tranquil moments, escaping your chores. But when you come back, nothing compares to the sight that meets you.

Damn all these walks.

Because only a fool could resist such an image of your husband lying on your bed, on his back and with his legs crossed, head facing sideways and away from the window. Away from the descending sun. Suhana sprawled right on his upper body. Cheek above his heartbeat, her fingers on Jungkook’s sharp jaw.

A pocket-sized hand holding him close to her.

His proportionally large palms rest on her back and under her little butt, both of them dozing peacefully. She moves with him as his chest rises, but she looks so undeniably at peace — as if there’s no better heaven. And mouth open, like no thunder could wake her.

Suhana’s bangs have grown longer now, hair covering some of the nape of her neck and her forehead. Her lips are rosy; the same shape as his. Even if reluctantly, you have to admit that she looks a lot like him.

You act offended when people remind you of that. Because you vehemently claim you want to see more of yourself in her, and Jungkook always calms you with the forecast that she’ll grow up to be as beautiful as you.

Something he thoroughly fears, however, judging the world’s intentions.

But you must also confess that seeing two pieces of the same gentle soul makes you feel lucky.

You drape your shawl over the chair at the large, wooden desk and step closer to the royal bed. Rest your legs from the excessive walk, laying down right beside him — facing him directly.

Gently, you reach out and graze the apple of his cheek; soon repeating the action with his miniature version before you tuck your hand under your temple. Then, you wait.

She doesn’t stir — as expected. But the tickling touch you left along his face elicits a sigh out of him before he lets out a small sound. Voices something like a harmless groan, along with a quiet smack of his lips that reveals the tiny dimples at the corners of his mouth, and a barely-there crease between his eyebrows.

His hand slides over her mini-body as a protective reaction, an immediate reflex. His eyes flutter open so slowly, just a slit; and when they do, you’re not the first thing he sees. Because they drift straight to her, ensuring that she’s still right where he left her and alright.

And only once he’s gathered that she’s still asleep, he blinks into your direction. They also say that priorities change with a child, no matter the amount of love for the partner; and you can’t blame anybody for this.

He smiles when he realises your presence, only lightly nudging you with his elbow. You move closer as he deduces, “You’re back. Was it…” Loving yawn. “Was it long enough for us to fall asleep?”

“It seems so. What were you two doing?”

“Talking.” Of course. Not an absurd answer by now at all. You nod. “She was explaining to me the existence of the pillow and the sun. Pointing at them. I was listening.”

Jungkook doesn’t ever describe her curiosity as exploration. To him, she’s talking, conversing. Your heart swells as you ask, “Ohhh, yes? What else?”

“I made her toy talk and she liked it, I reckon. Giggled so much that she fell off my lap once.”

The fantasy of the moment makes you break into laughter; you have a handful of questions. Did she get hurt? Did she keep laughing as she fell? Was she out of breath as much as you are when you observe her shenanigans?

You quiet down when she moves, fingers curling in. Shushing yourself and grimacing, you shift your attention back to your husband, taking in his freshly awoken expression before you state, “Your eyes are so swollen, though. And your face is dry.”

As if liquid dried on it.

Attentive assumption, because Jungkook instantly discloses, “Uh… I might’ve cried a bit.”

Oh? Oh no. Not him, too—

You wonder, “Why did you cry, my love?”

“Because she was crying…”

“What? Why?”

“Mmmh…. She’s always touching her face, you know?” You do know. You keep her from squishing her cheeks all the time. “I think she poked her eyes at some point and I mean… it didn’t hurt her at all.” Of course not; you make sure to keep her nails trimmed. “But it was a new sensation for her and her baby brain must’ve thought it hurt. So she started crying.”

“Oh no… and then you cried, as well, huh?”

You reach out to him, clearing his right eye and temple as you swipe away the strands of hair. By now, your language and manner of talking are mixing; you feel the same protective instinct towards both.

He sighs before he continues, “The parenting books said not to. I was supposed to stay calm, so she doesn’t interpret the situation as worse than it was. But I hate seeing her sad. So stupid.”

The position doesn’t allow him to shake his head properly, so he settles with a slow blink of his eyes. Then, he says, “But that made her stop. Look how hard she’s sleeping now. So deceiving!”

“Oh, baby…”

You don’t know what it is; maybe the permanent, lingering, overwhelming fact that this dream is actually your reality. That the three of you are alive and together and undoubtedly part of each other.

Whatever it is, it looks as though he is about to cry again.

“She is so feisty. Reminds me of you,” he whispers. “Right?”

He’s not talking to you, but to her — because she’s opened her eyes and he noticed before you even saw it.

Upon hearing his voice, she moves. Tiny fists stretch out, and she starts kicking slowly against Jungkook’s stomach. Her body winds restlessly, put off by his reaction just for a second when she hits against his body again and he utters, “Owwwh!”

And then, shamelessly, she yawns.

Coos and gurgles, croaks and caws. The sounds are small and high-pitched, sweet and tender. Curious wonder rests in her eyes as they crack open entirely, adjusting to her surroundings and you suddenly being here when you weren’t before. Not that she remembers.

And…

God, your heart jumps out of your chest, bloody and beating.

Because the very moment she sees you, she smiles in joy. She so often does. Sometimes, as you walk over to her crib at night, shining the candlelight into the space between you, she smiles with barely open eyes, too.

She squeals a little, reaching out for you, and you bring her fingers to your face for a fleeting moment before she retracts them again with a tired giggle. But when she registers her father’s breath, his voice sounding against her ear, she stops again.

Cuddling back in. Right where she wants to be.

No matter how much she loves you, she will never feel the same towards anybody in this world as she does for him.

He settles his hands on her more firmly, and then sits up with an encouraging, “Aaaand, here we go. Let’s take a look at you.”

He stares at her as he holds her in front of him, and she laughs again, seemingly amused by floating, held by two strong hands. Meaty legs kick in the air until he seats her down between the two of you with a shielding hand on her back.

She can’t fully sit on her own yet, but she always tries. Doesn’t wiggle too much anymore, though. Hits the mattress with her palms playfully.

“I swear… I will die for her,” Jungkook proclaims, moving until he meets her eyes. She looks up in a sudden movement, snickering again when he tickles her a little. Then, he repeats through gritted teeth, “Do you know, hm? I will die for you, I will!”

Before you know it — probably even before she, with her limited attention span, knows it — she’s back at playing. Then, another shift to you; a touch to your cheek. Leaning in, almost falling onto you when you scrunch your nose and kiss the air, communicating with her silently.

As her body attacks your face, an open, amused mouth drooling onto your cheek, you protest. Sitting up, you help her into your lap, and she has the audacity to yawn again.

With a shake of your head, you declare, “Sometimes you act spoiled, alright. Haven’t acted up yet, but I think we should probably feed you now, shouldn’t we?”

“Probably before she starts crying again,” Jungkook agrees.

“Can’t have that. Or you will, as well.”

“Ha-ha. But you know what, I might as well. It was insane.” He tuts, cocking an eyebrow as you prepare to bare your chest. “But if that’s what being with this tiny little thing means, I’ll take it,” leaning in, he returns to his talk with her, “alright? Listen up.”

Somehow, she does. No matter what he says, he manages to flood happiness through her, because she coos again, inhales sharply as she perks up her ears, “I’m serious. I’ll die for you, but only if you do not grow up. Stay like this, yes?”

“Stop it. I need her to grow into a woman like me and save the world.”

“Is that right? She can’t even say Dada yet. Give her some time.”

“Or Mama.”

“Yes. But you know as well as I do what word she’ll start out with.”

Standard banter between parents, you assume. You wouldn’t want it any other way. You prepare for a counter-tease, but then you fare better. “Of course. Something distinguished and eloquent like crown princess, probably.”

Jungkook blows a raspberry, and when tiny Hana mimics the action, spitting in the process, he roars with laughter. His usual child-like, sugary sweet titter, head thrown back and a hand under his chest.

This right here.

This is worth the pain, you think. Despite the hurdles, you think you’ve settled in this job, understood its responsibilities and set goals that will probably enable the life you desire.

Nothing can break this. Right?

As if diving into your thoughts or seeing them floating at the surface of your eyes, Jungkook reaches out, placing a warm palm on your neck. You look into his eyes, half his face dark as he covers the sun falling in from behind him.

If she wasn’t still on your lap, you’d jump into his, cuddle in and stay like this until the hot ball outside sets and rises again. But instead, you keep staring until he says, “We’re doing well. Really, really well.”

You are.

You have made yourself at home with the most tender of men, have gained luxuries and a noble style of living, still sporting a kind and generous heart. Yet, you’ve never been prouder of yourself.

“We are. And you are! See?” you agree cheerfully, touching his knee briefly. “You were so worried. And now— I’m losing her to you. God, just look at this—”

Her eyes must have followed your hand when it caressed his knee a moment ago. Because she crawls out of your lap, squeaking in joy as she targets his. Climbing it until he helps her up and settles in the way you wished to do just a minute ago.

“Mmmh. I guess I’m great at this, yes,” Jungkook concurs, “seems that bad traits aren’t learned after all, hm?”

The environment might be crucial in many cases, but if one inhabits a strong heart and a solid will, nothing can sway you.

Your chest feels as warm as the weather; your mind is as fresh as the breeze. And staring at his set of cheeks as flushed as the roses planted outside, you can’t help but be flooded with inexplicable magic.

You tell him, “You got into this role very easily. And I’m happy you’re happy.”

And he, the effortlessly fitting, second part of your soul, answers without a moment of hesitation and doubt—

“You make it easy to be.”

The bright, opulent room you enter floods back bittersweet memories in soaring waves.

It has been a while since you attended a noble ball like this. They’re cosier where you live. Smaller, the names less known; differing rigorously from events in the main city, in the capital, in the centre of your country.

Your seethingly beloved lorddom where you now reside has a humble and warm note to it; but no matter how thoroughly you might seek quiet peace, it will never bring the same nostalgia your former home does. Where you grew up.

Where you come from. And where Jungkook comes from. That one connection, indicating where the two of you started; your family; the crowds. This is all your life, playing out right in front of you.

As two of the most noted royals entering the hall, all eyes flicker to the two of you. Their gazes are brilliant and their attire posh. His brother, the host of the night, invited the best of the town; or rather, his wife did.

It’s wedding season again, which means that courting and heartache, confusion and intrigue will come back in all the glory you remember. Even now, you see a sliver of all the drama already.

Because no matter where you look, somebody is whispering. Somebody is eyeing another. Mustering the courage to dance with the object of their affection, or hatching a plan how to go down as the most desired of the year.

And from an outsider’s perspective, it’s fun to watch. In hindsight, you wonder if the crowd noticed the tension between Jungkook and you all that time ago; if they tittle-tattled about you, making up rumours or silent bets on what might transpire between you.

They probably did. You don’t recall much of the reactions as much as you do the touches, gazes, the butterflies his existence brought along.

And just as well, you remember the time before — when you’d hide behind your sister as she sought out a partner. Never did you think that the two of you would come out of the season with a beloved like the ones you now cherish.

And never did you think it would be the man who’d stand near those very pillars you’re now passing, a mere boy, keeping his eyes on you, but never saying anything particularly nice or productive.

It was events like these that you attended with him after he posed the question that changed the two of you.

“Let me court you.”

Sleepless nights. Rainy evenings. Swirling on dancefloors, bonding at orphanages, teasing in carriages. Locked rooms, secret conversations, broken hearts. Unexpected secrets and reunions.

Was that your life within a few months?

When people grow bored or notice the indecency of staring, they drift back to their old conversations. Jungkook and you conclude your entry, soon moving to the side. Fearing upcoming talks with people curious about the two of you.

You sigh as you listen to the strings, stress dropping off your shoulders as you say, “I love Hana so much, but… it’s so nice being here with you again.”

“It is,” he agrees, though hesitating, mouth open as if to add something. And then he does, “I do miss her, though.”

You laugh. Of course. “I know you do. I bet she does, too.”

Of course.

She could barely contain herself from babbling constant Dadadadas before you left. And yes, she said it before she learned to pronounce Mama. An insult, considering that you were the one who tended to swollen feet and a weight hanging off your tummy. Building to the moment she’d call for you.

But no! A daddy’s girl through and through. Then again, you are, too.

You do adore her to pieces, as well, but… it’d be a lie if you said you didn’t look forward to a night without a single obligation. Thankfully, the nanny took it upon herself to take care of Suhana tonight, so you are free to roam.

Despite, she’s already two years old now.

She’s been articulating herself clearer these days, so it’s gotten a little — a little! — easier to explain things to her now. She didn’t whine much when you told her you’d be out for a bit, but come back soon.

She must be asleep already anyway. And you hope you can keep your husband’s yearning in bay, too. You understand; it’s hard to leave. Especially as she stood ogling at you before you bid her good night, muttering a teeny tiny, “So pretty,” to you as you presented your gown.

“Mine?” she uttered.

You squinted, puzzled; you spoke her language, but couldn’t decipher this just yet. “…Yours?”

To explain, she nodded, making you understand when she patted her chest with a flat palm. Eyebrows cocking, you voiced, “Ohhhh. Hmmm. Darling, shall we go tomorrow and get you a pretty new dress for the summer?”

She was unspeakably delighted.

“Do you want to dance?” Jungkook asks, a hand already lifting.

For a while, you’d rather watch. It’s custom to dance, but… you’d rather observe the world from a different point of view, see what they used to see. Besides, you don’t enjoy Galop as much, and that’s what the piano is pulling out of the guests right now.

“You want to exhaust yourself already?” you laugh as he shrugs his shoulders. “Hmm. Am I allowed to decline?”

“Well…” he starts, lightly gripping your wrist, thumb touching it sweetly. “Do you have a card that you need to fill?”

“If you were courting me, yes. But I’m already shackled to you, and can’t escape even if I wanted to.”

“Ahhh,” he draws closer, mouth inches from your ears. Acting as if forwarding gossip, but only driving you insane in reality. “So you want to escape?”

“Something’s telling me I should try and see what you’ll do.”

“I mean, go ahead. Not opposed to going full-courti—”

Your laughter overshadows his last syllable, and you push his chest away, careful not to risk a scandal after coming out here after so long. He’s unabashed and would kiss you right here, if you let him.

So you move away, still giggling, and the moment your eyes lift to the guests, you silence. Right there, among the faces, you recognise one in the distance that had long dimmed in your memory.

You haven’t seen him in such a long time. And you didn’t expect it to happen today, either.

The man must have noticed the presence of a direct stare, because he soon looks into your direction at the very same moment. Squints his eyes, the smile adorning his mouth dropping as he spots you and understands who you are. Eyebrows raise. Features always expressive.

You want to grab Jungkook’s arm and flit away, but the man excuses himself from the conversation, idly strolling towards you and not leaving a way to escape anymore.

“Oh shit,” you quietly curse, and Jungkook hears, alarmed instantly.

He widens his doe eyes, so sweet as he looks at you, fingers coming up to pinch your chin as he asks, “What happened? Are you alright?”

“Yes. Certainly, just—”

“Oh… I won’t ask if it’s you because I know it is.”

The smooth greetings are accompanied by a surprised call of your name, and when you look back at the person matching the voice, your expressions move to kindness. You don’t want to appear awkward, and you don’t, but you wonder what Jungkook might be thinking.

Smiling, too, as you observe. But this one’s definitely awkward, the friendly kind that can’t do anything else but wait until the question marks have cleared up for him. Right there in his eyes until you enlighten him.

“It has been ages,” the man in front of you chimes.

“It has been. Years!”

You turn to Jungkook, an introduction sitting on your tongue, but he beats you to it. Still weirdly smiling, as amiable as ever, he asks, “Do you know each other?”

And the man, heart-shaped lips rising back to a smile, apologises immediately, “Ah, yes, yes, yes. My manners. I am Lord Jung. Jung Hoseok.”

He bows, missing the way Jungkook’s mouth parts, eyes blinking nearly unimpressed until— his features become defined all of a sudden, jaw far sharper than usual. Akin to a razor.

He’s not liking this.

“Ah,” Jungkook mutters, returning to the sociable expression that households drill into their children for years. “I am Jeon Jungkook.”

If anybody knew him as well as you do, they’d realise much sooner than later that he’d rather switch the situation with an easier one. But you can’t say any of it yet. You only listen as your past flame says, “You settled so well.”

Of course he knows. You guess after the craze over two years ago, he soon found out what the truth really held. You only reply, “I did.”

“Married life suits you!”

“Thank you, Hoseok! What about you, have you—”

“Oh, actually I—”

He seems much more cheerful about this than you imagined. Then again, what did you think? His life has probably changed now and the sentiments his heart once tended to evaporated. Everyone moves on at some point.

And he sounds genuinely happy for you.

But that’s not how Jungkook seems to perceive it. Because to your chagrin, he interrupts the man facing you, and you immediately hold your breath, already preparing a couple warning words when he starts—

“It is rude of me, but may I perhaps interrupt?” Hoseok silences upon Jungkook’s words, listening attentively, and you ready yourself for more teeth-grinding. “I apologise for being so impudent and straight-forward, but… this is uncomfortable to me because—”

“Jungkook—” you cut, trying to save the situation.

“I know, I just do not wish to let feelings out on anyone who doesn’t deserve it.”

Hmm…

“Uncomfortable?” Hoseok repeats, watching Jungkook’s Adam’s apple move as he swallows. Ponders over the words hanging in the air, and when none of the two of you speak on, Hoseok finally understands. “Oh! Ohhhh…”

He snaps a finger, and you resist the urge to slap your face. You know you’ll laugh about it in a couple hours; in truth, you don’t care if it might get odd for you because in all pure honesty, the situation has the potential to turn into comedy gold.

But Jungkook has an envious fibre; one to occur rarely, but when it does, he doesn’t hide it. To him, you’re the most striking creature to exist; in his opinion, everybody should be in love with you.

Yet, the thought of you with someone who he might consider better than him is unbearable.

For a second, you consider lifting your frock and storming to the entrance, or a room upstairs and to squish Jungkook’s cheeks between your palms. To make crystal clear who your heart thumps for, to bring back the confidence he’s built in the marriage with you.

But you restrain yourself when Hoseok speaks, “I understand. Back then, I actually hoped to see you at some point because I know what you are talking about.”

Jungkook reacts, “You are?”

“I think so. Is it not about the shenanigans people crafted a few years ago?”

Two and a half years now, to be exact.

“Yes, I apologise,” you chime in, “they shouldn’t have spoken about you or your personal feelings. But I thought you knew I had married and—”

“No, I,” he says, flushing, raising a hand in objection, “I— this is what I wanted to explain, so the two of you never find yourselves despising me.”

Oh god.

“The thing is that,” he hesitates. If you didn’t know his heart better, you’d assume he’s teasing you. But he scratches his temple, scrambling for words. “One of my staff came to my mansion with me as we settled there. He lived in this town before as well. Like you and I did.”

He looks to the side as if he could find that friend here, but then soon lets his eyes drift over you and Jungkook again, continuing, “He had heard stories about… what we used to be.”

“Right,” you add.

“He asked me about it. And my best guess is that somebody must have heard and interpreted that I was still yearning for those sentiments. But I wasn’t. I had a secret fiancée for the longest. I never told anyone until the wedding day neared. So…”

It takes a moment. Then another.

You think back to the reactions each of you had two years ago; how it spread throughout the mansion and spawned chaos in your bedroom. In any good or bad way, and yet.

And when realisation finally trickles in, a big of course ghosting through your minds, Jungkook and you both voice a simultaneous, “Oh.”

You should’ve known. Then again, didn’t you? Didn’t both of you doubt the truth behind the rumours, yet believing what a collective of people said? You guess, once more than one person claims a thing, it becomes more plausible.

No matter that it never was.

“Please don’t misunderstand,” Hoseok emphasises, “it’s not how I felt. Certainly not. I just never thought you’d believe it, or,” God, how stupid, “as a happy married woman, care. So I never bothered reaching out. We both have our homes, right?”

His fingers touch almost shyly, another smile flashing to defuse the situation. You’ll definitely laugh about this later. But right now, you only feel heat in your face, desiring to chase your staff throughout the mansion until they tire out.

Damn it.

“We did. We do.” You put an ashamed hand to your stomach. That feels funny. Weird. “I actually have a daughter now.”

Good change to lighten the moment. You shoot Jungkook a look; his cheeks are as flushed as you expected. But Hoseok does well in playing along, latching onto the new topic effortlessly and naturally.

“Oh, you do? I have a son as well. Maybe yours and he could be friends.” You nod as he talks, grateful for his kindness. “Another’s on the way for us, and Soo swears she can feel it’s a girl this time.”

“That’s so lovely, Hoseok,” is all you need to say. You might not feel towards him as you used to. Whatever flame the two of you ignited all that time ago has long been extinguished, but you always wish the best for him. “That is honestly so lovely. I’m happy for you.”

One single nod, smile reaching his eyes. Then, no more beating around the bush, the end of the conversation already overdue when he says, “Enjoy the night. Don’t ever trust anyone but your own eyes and ears, yes?”

“Yes… you as well, Lord Jung.”

And then he walks away. Leaves the two of you in silence.

Lips tight, eyes on the ground, nearly dissociating until you nod. Then you raise your lips. And then laugh. Chuckling with a shaking head and a hand lifting hand. Touching your hot forehead as you say, “I feel stupid.”

“And I feel stupid…” Jungkook finally speaks, his first words after a while.

“Did we really argue about this years ago?”

“Well, before you reprimand me, I need to defend myself and remind you that the argument worked for us that night, not against us. Did Suhana come from it or what?”

“Do the math, Jungkook! I told you about the pregnancy already a day after. Suspected it that night, too.” You giggle again, amused by his dumbfounded expression. “You know what? Maybe I could use that dance now.”

“Ah? Thought the lady would be rejecting me tonight. That would’ve robbed much of my honour.”

“Shut up, you envious fool. Either you’ll come and sway with me or I’ll never let you forget it.”

“You won’t. Either way.”

You don’t respond with much other than another beam and an accepting palm in his. You don’t need to.

In the end, Hoseok didn’t make a difference. Guess you would’ve lived either way, just the way you are, content and in love and eternally blissful to all obstacles. The evil of the word and sorrow fear you, not vice versa.

Because it’s him. It’s you.

And her. The three of you; three pieces of the same heart.

Or perhaps— perhaps it’s you who’s doing the math all wrong.

yoooo!! it took a while, but we're finally back. as summer and vacation near, i will have a lot more time to write again, so sit tight and look forward to more content, like entertainer and cmi (ofc these two, as well). i really really hope you liked it. some parts were written under a bad migraine and exhaustion, but i hope i could still deliver the emotions well.

and love you all!! thank you for still being here with me :') and stay healthy and happy, don't overwork yourself! hopefully this one could serve as a bit of relaxation. if you liked it, don't forget to let me know as always, no matter if you just arrived here or have been here for some time. and like, reblog, comment as well! you knowww how much i cherish all the words ever sent hehe <3

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runariya · 22 days

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Masterlist • Remember Me, Remember You

summary: In a dystopian future where memory manipulation thrives underground, Jungkook is a master at erasing and extracting memories. As a regular client, your reasons remain a mystery to him. But when one day he dives too deep into your memories, will you both restore your memories and confront the painful past, or continue living as strangers? pairing: memory manipulator!Jungkook x f!reader genre: dystopian!AU, cyber punk!AU, S2L, slow burn, angst rating: 18+, MDNI warnings: deliberate memory manipulation, trauma, grief, loss of identity, romantic tragedy, kind of emotional manipulation, hurtful memories, probably smut at some point, more tba total word count: tba

a/n: This work is purely fictional. All characters and events are entirely imaginary and do not reflect reality. No translations are allowed without permission. Thank you for understanding! 💕

COMING 2025

a/n 2: please send me a message, ask or comment if you would like to be tagged for this fic 💕

Check out my other work here!

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shuadotcom · 11 months

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Room with a View (M)

🩸Pairing: Vampire!Kim Mingyu x Human fem!Reader x Vampire!Jeon Jungkook

🩸Summary: “Yes, they clearly want in your pants, but at least Mingyu wasn’t lying about a much better view.”

🩸Genres & AUs: Smut, supernatural au, vampire au, pwp

🩸Rating: 18+ (MINORS & AGELESS BLOGS DNI. YOU WILL BE BLOCKED)

🩸Words: 6.3k

🩸Warnings: Mention of alcohol, profanity, mentions of blood, shameless Mean Girls references

🩸Smut warnings: Threesome, vampire kink ig, oral (f & m receiving), semi-public sex, window sex, fingering, anal fingering (f receiving), biting, marking, dirty talk, pet names (baby, little mouse), unprotected sex (vampires can’t impregnate humans in this world bc i said so!) rough sex, double penetration, using cum as lube

🩸Note: For @kpopsblackcreatorsociety 's Blood & Bane event! Vampire Prompt: “Did you just fucking bite me?!”

This AMAZING banner is by my bby @playmetheclassics / @classicscreations and beta’d by my other bby @the-boy-meets-evil! A million smooches for you both!! 😙❤️ Oh and tagging the lovely @gyuwoncheol ❤️

“I’m a mouse, duh!” You’ve had to clarify that at least ten times tonight, much to your displeasure. You assumed that the black nightie, silver calf-high boots, and mouse ears would make your costume obvious, but so far, it’s seemed that everyone you’ve run into at this party either has never seen Mean Girls or doesn’t remember it. It’s a tragedy, truly.

It doesn’t help that most of your time at this party has been spent with just you by yourself. When only one of the four parts of a group costume is together, the whole idea doesn’t make the same impact. But, Jihyo and Jeongyeon, the Regina George and Grethen Wieners of your quartet in that order, disappeared together fifteen minutes after arriving. They’re likely hooking up in a room somewhere, still trying to hide from you and Sana that they’re dating. That’s added to the fact that Sana, the Cady Heron of the group, is spending time with the busy boyfriend she hasn’t seen in weeks. They had offered to let you hang out with them, but the last thing you wanted to be was a third-wheel.

That leaves just you, lingering by the back door with the same wine cooler you’ve been nursing for the last hour.

You don’t know many people here except for the host, Dongmin, and a few of your co-workers you’ve recognized, but aren’t close with. He’s the sweet, wealthy vice president at the new company you work at who always goes out of his way to greet you when he sees you in the office.

You’ve only spoken to him a handful of times at the few company events you’ve been to and during shared elevator rides, so you were surprised when he invited you to his annual Halloween party, but you wouldn’t dream of turning him down. You also knew he had a good amount of money, what with the company doing so well, but you had no idea he was this well-off.

His house has two floors and all of the rooms are spacious, bustling with people in Halloween costumes, dancing, talking, and knocking back drinks. Once you look past all of the partygoers, the view from the backdoor looks out at the city, all the lights in the distance looking magical from where the house sits on a hill in the nice, suburban part of town.

The view is honestly the most interesting part about tonight. You typically love Halloween, but this is the first party you’ve been to in a few years, plus you’re not friends with anyone else other than the three girls you came with. So far, this Halloween has been extremely uneventful.

“Karen Smith from Mean Girls, right? You’re a mouse?” A male voice you don’t recognize catches you off guard as you spin to see who it is.

To say you’re breathless at the sheer presence of the two men you come face-to-face with would be an understatement. They’re both tall and buff-looking - buff in the way that has your stomach doing flips. They’re clad in all denim outfits, their white shirts hugging each muscle underneath the cotton. Cowboy hats and boots complete their costumes, so you can easily deduce what they’re supposed to be. The man who you assume is the one who speaks is closest to you, smiling at you, pretty lips decorated with double lip rings.

They’re beautiful in the most stunning of ways that makes them not even seem real.

When you finally get a grip on yourself, you clear your throat, plastering on a smile. “Finally, someone at this party with taste! You’d be surprised how many people here have never seen Mean Girls.”

“A lot of people at this party aren’t much fun so that makes sense,” The other man speaks, rolling his eyes before fixing you with a look that appears as what you can only describe as hungry. “Speaking of, we haven’t seen you at one of Dongmin’s parties before.”

“Oh, yeah this is my friends and my first time here. Dongmin and I have worked at the same company for a few months. He invited me and as many people as I wanted to bring.”

“Remind us to thank Dongmin for that when we see him next,” Liprings smiles at you again, eyes sweeping over you from head to toe and you can feel the hairs on your arm stand on end under his appraisal. “I’m Jungkook, by the way.”

“And I’m Mingyu,” Both men reach for your hands, each of them placing a kiss on them. The gesture is cheesy, but it still makes your skin heat up, cheeks burning as they gently let your hands go.

“I-I’m Y/n.” Forcing out a nervous laugh, you glance at their hat and boots and attempt to pivot the conversation. It’s not as though you didn’t want the attention they’re so clearly giving you, but you’ve never had men that looked this good so blatantly ogling you. Especially not two at the same time. You’re one more flirtatious look away from giggling like a schoolgirl in front of them.

“You know, just putting on cowboy boots and hats doesn’t make you cowboys.”

“And just wearing a headband doesn’t make you a mouse.” Jungkook fires back, grinning at you. Touché.

“You said you and your friends - where are they?” Mingyu asks, eyes sweeping the room.

“They’re all with their significant others.” You shrug, not trying to sound bitter. You’re happy for your friends, truly you are - you’re just reminded of how alone you are right now.

“Aw, well we’ll keep you company, little mouse,” Mingyu winks at you and the way you feel your thighs clench together at his words is utterly embarrassing. You’re almost mortified with yourself when you watch as both he and Jungkook glance down at your exposed thighs, noticing the gesture. That mortification is quickly washed away when Jungkook bites his lip and Mingyu’s smile grows.

All of a sudden, you’re acutely aware that it’s just you and two of the most handsome men you’ve ever been around. Face to face. There are plenty of people buzzing around you, but none of them are paying your trio any mind. Your heart races at this thought, glancing back out the window at the view into the backyard again.

“Everything okay, Y/n?” Jungkook’s voice is closer than you expect as he sidles up to your left, Mingyu moving to stand to your right.

“Yeah, of course, why do you ask?”

“You just seem nervous is all.”

“Nervous? I’m not nervous. I’m just…distracted. The, uh, the view of the city! It’s just so pretty. I’ve been admiring it all night.”

“Hmm. This is a really nice view,” Jungkook agrees.

“I know where you can see an even better view,” Mingyu adds, drawing both your and Jungkook’s attention to him.

“You do?”

“Yeah. We’re super close to Dongmin and we’ve been here a million times. He has a room upstairs that faces out to the backyard, but it’s a much better view than this. Wanna go check it out?”

You’d have to be an idiot not to guess where this was going and what else he intended with his words. He waits patiently, smiling at you and letting you think it over. A glance over your shoulder at Jungkook shows that he’s also waiting, eyes shifting to gaze outside while you think. Two hot guys basically tell you that they want to take you upstairs and hook up with you. It’s not the exact type of excitement you were looking for on Halloween, but it’s excitement nonetheless.

“Sure, let’s go. I’ll text my friends.”

“Perfect.” They wait for you to send a quick text to the group chat, letting the girls know who you’re going upstairs with and you see someone sends back a winky face emoji before you slip your phone in the clutch on your wrist.

Mingyu has you follow him out of the kitchen and through the crowd to the stairs with Jungkook behind you, his hand hovering over your lower back as he follows. When you reach the top of the stairs, Mingyu leads you to the left, down a hallway, and into a room at the end of the hall.

As soon as you step in, you see the wrap-around windows spanning the length of the wall in front of you. The curtains are all drawn and the expanse of the starry night is laid out so clearly. This room is in the corner of the house, but still faces the back, so you can see into the backyard and well across to the city skyline.

Yes, they clearly want in your pants, but at least Mingyu wasn’t lying about a much better view.

As if reading your mind the man in question chuckles, gesturing to the view. “I was right, wasn’t I?”

“Yeah, yeah you were,” you wave at him, feeling flirty and brave enough to throw him a wink as you beeline straight for the window. The glass is clean enough that you can just make out your reflection.

“Why are you so attached to looking outside?” Jungkook questions from your left. When you turn to find him, he’s lounging in a plush chair that sits near the foot of the luxurious bed.

“I can just appreciate a good view is all.”

“So can I,” Jungkook’s voice is so confident when he says it. He’s likely used that same line a million times before and it’s worked.

You refuse to admit it works on you too.

“Smooth,” you still can’t help but roll your eyes. “This view is honestly just the most interesting thing I’ve looked at all night.”

A big, firm, body presses into your back, your breath catching in surprise. You hadn’t even heard Mingyu approach.

“Oh yeah? That’s the most interesting thing you’ve seen all night?” His voice is low as he speaks against your ear, this close to making your knees weak.

“Mmhmm. Haven’t really been given much else to look at,” you hope neither of them can hear how your voice trembles as Mingyu runs his hands down your arms, pressing his body against you more. He has you so close to the glass you need to raise your hands to stop yourself from becoming flush against it.

“Is that so?” Mingyu’s hands are soft as he brushes the edge of your lingerie, his fingertips grazing your bare thighs that the hem hangs above. His hands are colder than you thought they’d be, but the chill is welcome on your blazing skin.

“I guess I need something more interesting to look at.” Your eyes shift up in an attempt to meet his in the reflection of the glass but…all you see is yourself and nothing else? “Mingy-oh!,” your last word is clipped when Mingyu steps back and takes hold of your hips to pull you a little ways away from the window. Immediately after, he pushes you forward to bend at the waist. Your hands press against the glass again, this time to keep you from toppling forward onto your face.

“Be careful, baby.”

“Wh - sh-shit!” Your question dies on your lips when you feel Mingyu spread your plush thighs and presses his face against your exposed pussy, his tongue prodding at the fabric of your panties to push both into your wet hole.

“You can look at your reflection while I eat you out. I’m sure the face you make when you cum all over my tongue will be interesting enough.”

“Oh, or how about all those partygoers outside in the backyard? Isn’t it just so interesting how if anyone looked up and stared long enough, they’d see you bent over with your tits falling out?” Jungkook’s tone is so aggravatingly teasing, but he’s right.

There are quite a few people stationed and talking around the yard. If someone truly wanted to, it would be pretty easy to see what’s going on in the room. The thought sends fear and another wave of arousal throughout you.

“Mm, I think she likes that thought, JK. She got so much wetter.”

“So dirty, little mouse.”

“I - fuck!” It’s frustrating how Mingyu keeps touching you in all the right ways, his movements constantly scrambling your brain and derailing your train of thought.

His fingers push your panties to the side and his mouth immediately latches onto your clit, sucking a few times before his tongue eases into your entrance, the intrusion pushing out an unabashed moan from your chest.

Your fingers scramble to grip the glass, only to slide with a squeak as Mingyu laps at you as far as his tongue can reach. Your hips begin rolling against his face as he works at you, the need to cum dangling dangerously close.

There have been plenty of other times you’ve let someone eat you out, but nothing can compare to the way this beautiful stranger plunges his tongue into your dripping hole, the obscene slurping sounds he makes are the only sound ringing in your ears other than your desperate whines.

“God, you look so good like this, little mouse. Your legs are trembling.” Jungkook’s voice cuts through the haze clouding your brain. “Can’t wait to get my hands on you.”

“What are you w-waiting for, then?” You attempt to sound confident and sexy, but your words are more whiny than anything. Even so, you hear Jungkook chuckle before the sound of him getting out of the chair and making his way over you catches your attention. He’s taken his denim jacket off at some point and you practically drool at the sight of his fitting white t-shirt and tattoo-decorated arm on display.

He raises one of his hands, trailing it over your back and down to your ass. Mingyu already pushed your nightie up enough to get access to you, but Jungkook bunches it up all the way, the delicate fabric resting above your ass to give him access. He brings his hand down once, landing a spank on one of your cheeks.

Electricity surges through your body at the sting and you jump. Your hips respond by pushing back, obviously begging both men for more.

From behind you, Mingyu grunts, and, as if answering your wordless request, you feel his finger ease into your entrance, replacing his tongue. He’s still cold and you let out a yelp at the temperature, but you easily melt into him as his digit plunges into your heat.

Jungkook is still standing next to you, chuckling at the way you writhe, even bending over a little more.

“Asking to be spanked again, baby?” He hums, cold hand caressing your ass.

“Yes, please!” Your knees are so, so close to giving out as you can feel your orgasm creeping up closer and closer. Mingyu’s finger keeps working at you and he soon adds a second. Heart hammering against your chest, you rest your forehead against the cold glass, nearly ready to collapse at the pleasure.

“Alright, well now you gotta share, Gyu,” Jungkook’s voice reminds his friend before he grabs at you to stand you upright.

Mingyu, still on the floor, makes a displeased sound, frowning up at his friend.

“Yeah, yeah. You can still eat her out, but I want her mouth. Is that alright with you, little mouse?”

“Hell yes, it is,” you breathe out, still trying to right yourself after Mingyu’s assault on your pussy.

Jungkook smiles at you, and it takes your breath away in another way. How the fuck were you so lucky to end up here like this with men who looked this good?

With his hand holding yours, he leads you to the bed, Mingyu trailing behind as his fingers graze any part of your skin he can reach. Once you reach the bed, both men work together in lifting your nightie over your head and slowly peeling away your bra and panties, leaving kisses over your newly exposed skin.

The three of you are a flurry of hands as you tug on the hem of Jungkook’s shirt with one hand while reaching behind your back to find the button on Mingyu’s jeans.

When you’re finally naked, (save for your mouse ears which both men beg you to leave on), Mingyu spins you around and leans down to pull you into a kiss. His lips are impossibly soft as you melt into him, his tongue poking out to brush against your bottom lip a few times. You open for him immediately, allowing the man to wrap his tongue around yours before sucking the muscle into his mouth.

Tiny mewls slip out of you, getting swallowed by Mingyu as he kisses you hard enough to bruise you, letting you taste yourself on him. Jungkook’s hands skate over your hips, your stomach, and up to your breasts. He rolls your nipples between his fingers, tugging on the buds as his teeth graze your shoulders and neck. Mingyu continues to muffle every sound you make, and one hand, the one not currently cradling the back of your head, snakes down, down, down until he dips a finger between your thighs. He’s met with your wetness, already coating the tops of your inner thighs.

Your eyelids flutter as both sets of hands hold you, your arousal building with every tweak and every poke.

A different kind of poke on your neck makes you yelp though, flinching your head back from Mingyu to try and get a look at Jungkook.

“Did you just fucking bite me?!”

The tattooed man chuckles and cocks his head at you, amused at your reaction.

“Sorry, I guess I should’ve asked if you’re into that?”

“I am, I was just surprised. Your teeth are sharp.” You don’t mind marking and being bitten, but it’s never been almost painful when past partners have done it.

Although truth be told, you didn’t mind one bit that it hurt.

He pouts at you, apologizing but still asking if you’re sure you’re okay with it. You promise you are and that’s all Jungkook needs to spin you around and crash his lips into yours. The chill of his lip rings is as cold as his lips, but just like every other chilled part of both him and Mingyu, you don’t mind at all.

Jungkook’s kisses are messier than Mingyu’s, his tongue immediately diving into your mouth to lap at every part of you. He alternates between making out with you as if his life depended on it and nibbling at your bottom lip, his teeth catching on the swollen skin now and again. It’s Mingyu’s turn to lavish your shoulders and neck with attention as he too sucks and nips at your skin, his teeth pricking your hot skin as he goes.

He leaves you panting when he finally lets you up for air and you can practically feel your arousal dripping down your thighs from the dual sensations.

“Your lips are fucking amazing,” Jungkook grumbles, dark eyes fixing you with a look that has you swooning. “I wanna feel them on my dick now,”

You nod eagerly, likely resembling a bobblehead, and he and Mingyu both laugh at your eagerness. They help you get comfortable on the bed, having you kneel across it on all fours. Jungkook takes his position in front of you, his cock hard and already leaking precum. Mingyu shuffles on the bed behind you, running his hands over your ass, and you instinctively arch for him.

“Such a pretty pussy,” he hums, swiping his finger through your wetness and you hear him suck it into his mouth behind you. “And you taste even better.”

“Hey, you need to share, remember? I wanna taste,” Jungkook pouts at Mingyu over your shoulder and you feel Mingyu’s hand between your thighs again, gathering more of you, and this time, he reaches forward and offers his finger to Jungkook. The man in front of you cranes his neck forward to suck his friend's finger into his mouth, hollowing his cheeks for a moment before letting go with a ‘pop.’

Jungkook flashes a sly smile, licking his lips as he looks down at you. “Gyu is right. You’re absolutely delectable, little mouse. I’ll have to taste it straight from the source some other time.”

The gears in your brain work overtime, registering that he’s alluded to there being a next time for the three of you.

Mingyu’s tongue is diving into your cunt again which derails any other train of thought. Your mouth hangs open, a moan tumbling out in response. Jungkook uses that opportunity to tap the head of his cock against your bottom lip.

“This okay, baby?” He asks. When you let out an affirmative noise, he eases it into your mouth and you eagerly wrap your lips around it.

Jungkook’s cock isn’t extraordinarily long, but it’s thick, the girth stretching out the corners of your mouth the more he pushes in. When you almost get all of him in, he takes a moment, giving you time. When he feels you relax your jaw and sees you look up at him through your lashes, he starts to move his hips, helping you bob your head over his dick.

His fingers weave into your hair, making sure not to disturb your mouse ears, gripping the strands at the base as he slowly rolls his hips into your face. You close your eyes, both to concentrate on taking him and to relish in the frantic way that Mingyu laps at your folds. He grunts into you with each swipe of his tongue and you can feel each deep vibration that slips out.

You can feel your earlier orgasm creeping up again with each flick of Mingyu’s tongue. When he reaches under you to run his finger over your clit, the heat in the pit of your stomach gets hotter, bubbling up and spreading through your veins.

Unable to help yourself, you push your hips back into his face chasing your high. Jungkook’s cock is heavy and your tongue, his pace quickening too. His fingers tug at your hair harder than when he started. Each time he surges forward, the tip of his dick just barely hits the back of your throat, but it’s still enough to have you choking.

Drool starts to pool in the corners of your mouth as you cry out around his length, finally toppling over the edge as you cum. Your words are garbled and you have to anchor yourself to not fall fast forward into Jungkook’s crotch.

“Shit, yes baby like that. Cum all over Gyu’s face and take my cock. So good,” Jungkook’s words sound far away. Your brain is foggy, but you still clench around Mingyu’s enthusiastic tongue as he cleans you up.

When Mingyu finally pulls back you’re still whimpering around Jungkook and he’s switched to shallow thrusts, his cock dragging almost lazily against your tongue.

“Fuck, little mouse. I think I might be addicted to your delicious little cunt now.” Mingyu punctuated his words with a light smack to your still throbbing pussy, making you jolt.

“Her mouth is a fucking dream too. She looks so pretty with it full. We’re so lucky to have found you, baby.”

“So lucky,” Mingyu agrees. You attempt to nod, trying your best to agree with them because you also feel incredibly lucky tonight. You’d gone from lamenting about being a third wheel in the awkward, almost lonely ways, to being the third wheel in a threesome with two beautiful men. Lucky indeed.

“Gonna let us get even luckier, baby?” Jungkook’s finger settles under your chin, tilting your head up just a bit to look down at you. “Gonna let us fuck you?”

This time you pull away, letting his cock fall out and giving you a chance to rest your jaw.

“God yes. I need more,” your voice is a little scratchy but still needy.

“Good girl. Who do you want first?” Mingyu rasps in your ear, his lips brushing over the shell of your ear.

“Both of you.”

“Oh? You hear that, Gyu? She wants us both.”

“Fuck, you’re so goddamn dirty, baby. Sure you can take us both?” Mingyu presses his length against your asscheeks, letting you feel just how big he is.

“I can do it. Just prep me real good?” Casting a look over your shoulder, you meet Mingyu’s eyes, batting your lashes at him, wearing your best pleading face.

His expression darkens, smirking at you as his eyes sweep over your back, fixing on your ass before meeting your eyes again. “I’ll take care of you, little mouse, don’t worry.”

Mingyu peppers your cheeks with kisses while his finger swipes through your wetness again. He slowly spreads your cheeks, and a glob of spit hits your puckered hole followed by the tip of his finger prodding you.

You wince when he slips in, moving oh so slowly until he’s one knuckle deep. Jungkook’s hand still under your chin turns your head to face forward and redirects your attention back to him.

“Lemme distract you,” he taps the tip of his dick against your lips and you open immediately, almost greedy to take him in again. It’s easy for him to set a pace; each push of his hips forward pushes you back against Mingyu’s finger. They easily find a rhythm and Jungkook tugs on your hair, moaning loudly above you.

Listening to his melodic voice making these breathy exhales for you - because of you - serves to make you wet all over again and determined to make him cum. He’s still guiding your head, but you curve your tongue, letting it wrap under his cock, gliding along a thick vein on the underside.

“Fuck, Y/n. Keep doing that,”

So you do, hollowing your cheeks for good measure to make the inside of your mouth feel tighter around him. You’re moaning around his length as Mingyu slips a second finger into you, scissoring his fingers as he gets both digits in you.

“Look at you, little mouse. Taking my fingers and Jungkookie’s cock so well. I just know you’ll take both of us so good when we fill you up,” Mingyu’s words make you clench around nothing, but he feels the way your body tenses up and he chuckles at you. He lands a sharp smack on your ass, pushing a muffled shriek out of you.

You get lost in the slide of Jungkook’s dick down your throat and the stretch of Mingyu’s fingers in you. It isn’t very long until you’re fucking back against his fingers. Jungkook’s grunts are getting more high-pitched and frantic, curses falling from his lips.

“Yeah, yeah, fuck. I’m - fuck!” Jungkook pulls his cock from your mouth, leaning back and gliding his hand over his length at light speed.

When he cums he makes sure he’s angled towards him, so the sticky liquid spurts onto his chest and hand. You watch in awe as he tugs at himself a few times. His eyes are closed as he swipes his fingers through the mess on his skin and rubs it over his still-hard dick, sighing as squelching echoes in your ears.

“You doing okay, little mouse?” Mingyu’s voice cuts through to you and you finally manage to nod.

“Good. Come’re,” Mingyu’s fingers slip out of you and his hands wrap around your ankles and slide you down the bed, flipping you onto your back in one swift motion. “Legs and arms, wrap them around me.” He helps you loop your arms around his neck and you do your best to lock your legs around his waist.

You expect to stay splayed out on your back, but he has other ideas as he picks you up with ease, as if you weigh absolutely nothing and you’ll be damned if it isn’t one of the hottest things that’s happened tonight.

Mingyu’s mouth is on yours again as his hands grip your ass, keeping you up and close to his body. He moves you both across the room, his back leaning against one of the large windows. One of your hands grips his shoulder while the other cards through his dark locks.

A second set of hands ghosts over your shoulders and back followed by Jungkook’s lips, his teeth grazing your skin between kisses.

“Gonna let us fuck you at the same time, little mouse?” Jungkook speaks next to your ear, biting your lobe.

“I would if you’d hurry up,” you mumble, now laying your head back on Jungkook’s shoulder as Mingyu licks up the column of your throat, biting your collarbone hard enough to make you yelp.

“So impatient, baby,” he murmurs against your skin. “But I guess we should give her what she wants, JK.”

“Guess so, Gyu,”

Mingyu leaves a final kiss on the mark he’s left on your collarbone and adjusts you in his hold. He lifts you a little, quite effortlessly at that, and begins sliding you down in his length. Mingyu’s cock is long - long and thick enough that you feel full before he’s even halfway in, but you take it, gnawing at your lip as he enters you inch by inch.

Once he’s completely sheathed inside of you, you two lock eyes, the dark glint unmistakable. He gives a few shallow thrusts, already making you pant in his grasp.

“My turn, baby,” Jungkook says, reminding you that you’re only halfway done.

You crane your neck to the side to look down, and you watch Jungkook stroke himself a few times, using his cum to get himself as slick as possible for you, spitting into his hand for extra help. Mingyu tips you forward, your head resting on his shoulder as he spreads your cheeks for Jungkook.

You ignore the fact that when you look at your reflection in the window, yours is the only one you see, clinging naked around seemingly nothing.

The nudge of Jungkook’s thick cockhead against your rim makes you gasp. He slides in much slower than Mingyu, letting your walls accommodate him at a much gentler pace. When he finally bottoms out, your head is spinning at the sensation of being packed to the absolute brim. Neither men say anything as you get used to them, using the opportunity to litter any skin they can reach with their mouths with bites, sucking more marks into you.

When you’re finally ready, you wriggle in Mingyu’s hold, attempting to pivot your hip to get them to move.

“Mm, you ready, baby?” Mingyu whispers, running his tongue along your jaw.

“Yes, please. Fuck me,”

“Since you asked so nicely…” Jungkook laughs, his hands now holding onto your ass while Mingyu wraps his arms around your waist.

Both men take a millisecond to adjust and that’s truly all they need before they both thrust into you, drawing a long, gasp of breath out of you. Mingyu snaps his hips forward, using the window behind him as momentum to fuck into you. It pushes you back down into Jungkook who’s glued to your back.

They fuck you roughly, see-sawing you back and forth on their cocks, their grips on your flesh never loosening. You cry out each time, babbling out what sounds to you like their names surrounded by nonsense.

Mingyu’s gaze stays locked on your face, occasionally trailing over the rest of you, practically growling with each powerful thrust.

“Look at you. Taking two cocks so well. You’re so good for us, little mouse.” Each word is punctuated with even more power behind his movements, drawing a whimper out of you each time.

“So good. Letting me into this tight little ass. Fuck you’re squeezing me so much, baby.” Jungkook’s comments are also followed by thrusts that take your breath away, his balls slapping against the back of your thighs each time.

You feel a million miles away from your body as these beautiful men with their big dicks stuff you full. You can feel every vein and every ridge battering and rubbing against your spongy walls and you clench with each thrust in, your second orgasm rushing to the forefront.

At some point, you think you black out, but that could just be the pleasure. The only thing you see is Mingyu smiling salaciously at you, sharp teeth on display, and half-lidded eyes drinking you in. The only thing you hear is Jungkook growling in your ear, praising how good you are for them and how fucking amazing you are.

The only thing you feel - well you feel everything. The way they stretch you out, the way their fingers and blunt nails press bruises and half-moon marks into your skin. You feel the scrape of their teeth when they bite at you and it’d be a lie to say you didn’t want them to bite you a little harder.

“Look at our little mouse, JK. She’s so pretty and so fucked out.” Mingyu moves a hand up to grip your chin and tilts your head back to rest on Jungkook’s shoulder.

“Shit, look at you, baby. So cockdrunk for us. You gonna cum?” You think you say words, but maybe it’s more of affirmative sounding noises.

Somehow, someone’s hand - you’re not sure who - reaches between your legs to rub your clit. You’re so fucking full and so fucking wet that it only takes a few rubs at your bundle of nerves to have you cumming with a scream that sounds much too loud to your ears.

Every inch of you is red hot and in flames as your throat dries up and your eyelids sag and that’s when you feel it: the sharp, piercing feeling of being bitten. Hard. One on your shoulder from behind and one on the opposite side of your neck. Your eyes fly open and all you see is Mingyu's dark head of hair. Somewhere in the room, along with the wet, slapping, sounds of them drilling into you, you hear slurping. The slurping of your blood in the mouths of these men that you now know for sure are not just men.

They’re drinking your fucking blood.

And that realization alone has you falling apart again, your mouth falling open in a silent scream, body twitching in their holds.

“Fuck - fuck! Gonna stuff you so fucking full, baby!” Mingyu removes his mouth from your neck, shooting his load into you first, the sensation making you groan out, albeit weakly.

Jungkook tumbles over the edge right after him, his sticky seed coating your insides, dripping out, and sliding down your cheeks.

You’re still reeling from what is likely the most powerful orgasm you’ve ever experienced, body sagging, feeling completely boneless.

“Did you cum again after we drank from you?” Jungkook mumbles as they slide out of you, still keeping you in their arms.

“Mmhmm,” is all you can manage, eyelids fluttering, fighting to stay open.

“Fuck. You really are perfect, baby. We gotta keep her, Gyu.”

Mingyu chuckles, finally setting you on the bed, and letting you flop onto the comforter.

“Yeah, I think we might have to. Would you like that, little mouse? Wanna be ours?”

“Mmhmm…” You think you have something else to say, but instead, you finally lose the battle to exhaustion, your eyes sliding closed and sleep taking hold of you.

“Y/n? Hey, Y/n?”

The sound of your name jerks you awake, and your eyes shoot open to take in your surroundings.

Sana’s face is peering down at you when you finally focus, concern etched into her features.

“Huh?”

“You’re up! We were getting a little worried, you’ve been sleeping for a while. Feeling okay?”

You sit up slowly, your head feeling groggy as you take in your surroundings. You’re on your couch in your apartment. You can see Jihyo in the kitchen staring at you looking concerned too. In the distance a toilet flushes and you assume it’s Jeongyeon.

“I’m fine,” you finally say. “Why are we at my apartment?”

“Well, your boyfriends texted us that we should take you home because you were so exhausted you passed out. They carried you out to the car and everything. Very gentlemanly.”

“By the looks of those marks, I think they treated you the opposite of gentlemanly in the bedroom?” Jeongyeon eyes your neck as she enters the room wiggling her eyebrows.

When you glance down, you see what she means. Your chest and what you see of your shoulders are covered in bruises. When you touch your neck you feel two small punctures in the skin and you flush from head to toe. You had almost wondered if you dreamt about the whole encounter with Mingyu and Jungkook, but you hadn’t.

“Oh, yeah. They definitely weren’t gentle,” you can’t but help giggle at the memory of the night you’ve had. The ache between your legs and your cheeks is also a stark reminder.

Your friends don’t say anything about where either Mingyu or Jungkook went when they left you in their care, but they wouldn’t just disappear, right? They said they wanted to keep you which means something, you’d like to think.

Lucky for you, it’s not something you have to ponder for long. As you’re settling into bed for the night, your phone vibrates with a text from an unknown number.

When you go to your messages you see a group chat with you and two other people. Opening it rewards you with an image - two familiar-looking mouths smiling widely. You can only see from their noses down to their chins, but both grins show off very pointy canines, one mouth decorated with two lip rings.

You’re trying to rack your brain as to what to respond with - it’s not like you could have anticipated that being bitten by actual fucking vampires would be so damn hot.

A text from the other number comes in a minute after the picture.

Good night, little mouse. Let us know when and where we can see you again. 😉

You start to type, then erase the message three times, unsure of how desperate you want to sound.

Then you decide, fuck it. It’s obvious they want you just as much as you want them, so who cares if you sound desperate?

So, you keep it short and sweet.

Whenever and wherever you want. Duh.

Net tags: @kflixnet @kbookshelf

I’ve wanted to write a Mingyu/Jungkook threesome since they did that live together that one time. And then the 3D challenge happened and my brain said NOWNOWNOW so here we are!

570 notes · View notes

jeonggukookies · 6 months

Text

crown's kingdom || two

summary: now engaged to prince jungkook, you both must figure a way to make this alliance work while your enemies try to tear it apart.

– genre: royalty!au, enemies to lovers!au, prince!jungkook, queen!reader, arranged marriage - fluff/angst

– word count 4637

– warnings: please read note if you haven't read changes

index || one

“Look what we have here.” Despite your eyes being completely shut, you knew who took a seat next to you on the bench by recognizing his voice. “I want to say what a beautiful dress you have on there, but I’m afraid I have to tell you the truth. Your morning dress looks like a tablecloth for afternoon lunch.”

To start off your mornings, you woke up before the sun, craving to have at least an hour alone in the chapel, free from anyone to interrupt your morning meditation and prayers. It was one of the few times when you were alone, not surrounded by any servants or guards. You were able to find solace—until Jungkook came.

“And to what do I owe the pleasure of having your presence near me at this time?” You asked politely, still with your eyes closed and your hands pressed together, fingers pointed upwards, deep in prayer.

For the last week, you and Jungkook had been doing an excellent job avoiding each other despite the public announcement of the engagement. You always tried to make your schedule as busy as it could be, not wanting to spend a second alone with him. You filled your time up with more violin lessons and analyzing war strategies and patterns from your father’s old journal. Eventually, you were going to have to interact with Jungkook and fool everyone that the two of you were in love, but you didn’t expect him to find out about your schedule, taking the time to wake up early to come find you in the prayer room.

“Perhaps the dress would be better as a tablecloth,” he suggested, pulling at the puffy sleeves, attempting to get a rise out of you. “And perhaps, you on that particular table.”

“To the Divine Spirit, please forgive me for all I have sinned and will sin.” Opening your eyes, you smacked Jungkook’s arm, annoyed by his antics. With a smirk on his face, he’s chuckling, satisfied to get a reaction out of you.

“It’s almost six in the morning, and you really want to start off the day by pissing me off?” You gritted through your teeth, trying not to raise your voice. “Can you be a pain in the ass somewhere else? And not in this sacred space? A place where I find peace?”

“I quite believe this is the perfect time and place to do it,” he remarked, trying to hide the mischievous smile on his face. “You have to get used to it if we are to be wed soon.”

“Do not remind me of this terrible tragedy.” You groaned. “May we pray that the fates decree our union not come to pass."

He rolled his eyes, annoyed with your response. “Why do you act like a grandma? No one our age speaks like that or wakes up this early to pray! Just say, ‘God, I hope we don’t marry.’”

“Are the words too big for you to understand?” You pushed your lower lip out, pretending to feel bad for him. “Is that why you were engaged to Comet? The girl whose named after her own country but can’t spell her name without help from her tutors? You know stupid plus stupid doesn’t cancel each other out, right?”

“And you know praying every day isn’t going to erase any of the sins you’ve committed in the past, right?” He mocked. “I’ve been wondering where you’ve been the last couple of days, and now I realize that I shouldn’t have gone through so many people to find out that you wake up so early to pray. I should have remembered you were so boring.”

You scoffed. “Wow, you must be really thinking about me all the time? To be asking others about my schedule? To be wondering where I am at? You must not have a life, huh?”

“Alright, it’s already been one week, and I’ve had enough. I don’t think I can handle you for the rest of my life.”

“Then do something about it,” you snapped.

“You don’t think I haven’t?” He snapped back, looking at you with the same amount of anger in his eyes. “What do you think I was trying to do for the last week? While you were hiding away in your room, I was trying to secretly change this alliance. Maybe with your help, I can easily break off the engagement and toss you like a pebble in the lake.”

For a moment, you were offended that you were disposable to him, making it seem like you desperately needed him and his country more than he needed you.

You can play this game too, you thought to yourself.

With your index finger, you gestured for him to come closer to you, leaning over to whisper in his ear. “And if you shall give up the position of ruling two countries, maybe even three one day, would the current King of Aurum be happy with that? Could he let you live in peace if you were to ruin the alliance without his permission?”

Jungkook learned his lesson for the day and finally shut his mouth, letting the devotion area be peaceful for the rest of the morning. He put his hands together, silently mouthing along to some basic scriptures.

“Amen,” you whispered, putting your hands together, ready to medicate and pray next to Jungkook.

_________

Dasher, the new Prince of Cometes, could have gone to command his new military forces, started imposing taxes, or simply have done absolutely nothing as his first task as a royal. Instead, he decided the first thing to do was to go to Aurum to renegotiate their alliance as their circumstances had now changed.

After eating breakfast, you were asked to accompany Jungkook to greet the new prince. His parents thought it was a perfect opportunity to showcase the new alliance between the two countries.

“I’m glad you changed out of that old curtain you had earlier,” Jungkook said when you arrived next to his side. The two of you were outside the palace, waiting for the Cometes’s carriage. “You would have made it seem like I downgraded.”

“Well, I sure did.” You forced a smile, looking straight ahead where the horses were coming at a steady pace a few meters away from you. “Don’t understand why I have to be here like I’m you’re fucking babysitter.”

“Here he comes.” You turned your head to look at Jungkook, and you find him already staring back at you. He was holding his breath, having a tense look on his face. It had been a while since you’ve seen Jungkook look this apprehensive. “Can you do this?”

When the two of you were learning all the types of ballroom dances, Jungkook’s face was always pale before he had to perform and get evaluated by our instructor. You knew it wasn’t because he was ten years old, dancing with a girl; he was a perfectionist, afraid to take the wrong step and embarrass himself in front of everyone.

As he had gotten older, he had done a better job at hiding his anxiety, trying to look like the Golden Prince everyone saw him to be. He’s been doing such a great job, that even you forgot he had the capability to be nervous. He wasn’t just a snarky and egomaniacal prince; Jungkook, too, was a human with fears and imperfections.

“Absolutely.” Without giving you any context, you knew what he was asking. He needed your reassurance—that the two of you could convince the future King of Cometes, that your shared hatred will be hidden by the love of your countries. “Don’t be afraid.”

Before the horses came to a complete stop, Jungkook straightened his posture, taking a deep breath. No longer looking nervous, he looked like he was ready to stand his ground, determined to become one of the best kings.

Stepping out of the carriage, a silver-haired man as tall as Jungkook appeared. The man was wearing a close-fitting gray velvet doublet, embellished with white pearls along the seams. With a black linen shirt underneath, the pearls were able to stand out more, showing everyone his new power.

“Prince Jungkook,” the man greeted. “Well isn't it quite lovely to see you again?”

“And now as equals this time, Prince Dasher,” Jungkook slyly commented. “I hope the ride here wasn’t too terrible with all the rain and mud this season.”

“Not at all.” The man turned his focus on you, looking up and down, trying to analyze who you were to stand so close to the Prince of Aurum. “You must be Queen of Caelestia.”

“Please address me as Y/N,” you said politely. “It’s an honor to meet you, Prince Dasher.”

“As to you, Your Grace.” He took a bow, showing his respects. “The rumors must be true then,” he said. “The two of you are going to wed.”

“Unless you’re here to propose to me, then plans can always be altered and rearranged,” Jungkook joked lightly, trying to ease the mood. You bit your lower lip to hold yourself back from laughing at his attempt. The joke itself wasn’t that funny, but the fact that Jungkook thought it was appropriate to say.

“I can assure you that I will not bore you with a proposal of mine.” Dasher took another look at you and Jungkook. He was trying to read the two of you. “And is your bride joining us for our negotiation?”

“She will not,” Jungkook answered right away, not giving you a second to react. There was some hostility in his voice. “Do you request her presence at our meeting between our two countries?”

“Just interesting that the future queen of Aurum will not be there.” Dasher raised his eyebrows. “Unless…”

“Well, we haven’t even decided on invitations! But I promise you that you’ll be one of the first to receive them.” You paused to look at Jungkook, linking your arm to his. “Isn’t that right, Darling?”

He stared back at your eyes, deeply as if he were trying to your deepest, darkest secrets. Letting a small scoff, he smiled and looked back at Dasher. “Well, now that we got introductions out of the way, why don’t we head towards the affairs room to discuss the future of our people?”

________

With the arrival of Prince Dasher, you were expected to attend the evening activities. Typically, the evening activities were full of entertainment like live music, dancing, theater, and more. They were loud and socially draining at times, but you loved going, seeing it as an opportunity to enrich life and cultivate an appreciation for arts and culture.

When walking into the courtiers’ hall, you can tell the King and Queen of Aurum went the extra mile in making tonight’s activities more lavish than usual, catering to their guests. You noticed how there were more servants around, refilling drinks and replacing empty food trays as quickly as they could. They were even using the fancy china that the Queen rarely used, wanting to keep it in mint condition. There were more musicians hired as well. With more musicians, they were able to proudly and loudly play traditional Cometes music, hoping to make the Cometes people feel at home.

There were more people today, all participating in the elegant court dances, and board games and many were socializing, especially the women, probably hoping to find a suitor among the new guests.

“Queen Y/N.” You turned your head to see Kim Taehyung, a Luxuria ambassador who resided in Aurum Court. “It’s a blessing to see you entertained by tonight’s festivities.”

“Well, that can’t be right.” You took a few steps to be face-to-face with him. “Aren’t you always praying for my downfall?”

For the last two years, Kim Taehyung has been a cunning diplomat. On paper, his presence at court might be to handle situations between his country and Aurum, but really, his true mission was to antagonize you at court. Despite his constant terrorizing, you’ve kept your eye on him, following the rule: Keep your friends close and keep your enemies closer.

He chuckled, putting his hands in his pockets. “I haven’t seen you around court to give you my congratulations on your engagement to Jungkook.”

“Thank you, Taehyung.” You forced a smile, and he smiled back.

“And how has this engagement been so far?”

“Quite amazing,” you lied. “Thank you for asking.”

“Is that why everyone is talking about Jungkook and your reluctance to marry each other?” He asked. “You know, Luxuria intelligence predicted this happening years ago. That somehow you would find a way to marry the next King of Aurum. That somehow the alliance between Aurum and Cometes would fall through.”

“If you want to take your anger or frustration out on someone for the sudden change, Prince Dasher is present at court today as well.” You pointed in the direction where Dasher was. “Shall I introduce the two of you and be on my way?”

He took a step closer, trying to intimidate you. “How about instead you go on your way back to Caelestia and abandon this alliance with Aurum?”

“Is that a threat?” You asked, raising your eyebrows and letting out a humorless laugh. “Are you seriously threatening me?”

“Not a threat,” he insisted. “Consider this as….a chance to save your country and people.”

The smile disappeared from your face. You gritted through your teeth, “To save my country and my people, I need to take the chance and marry Jungkook for his armies against YOUR people!”

“Then take the first step and go back home,” he suggested.

“And then how long would Luxuria come after my throne?”

He refused to answer your question, changing the subject immediately. “Do not beg for mercy when I have given you the chance to correct yourself.”

“And have you and your queen considered that mercy doesn’t need to be begged if Luxuria would stop sending its forces to my border?”

He looked around, seeing if anyone was watching your interaction with him. He then smiled. “You may have been safe and across the sea all this time, but do not forget, Queen Y/N, even monarchs cannot escape death.”

For a moment, you froze in place, feeling the anger grow inside your body. From a young age, you were taught that monarchs cannot show their emotions, and they shouldn’t especially show it to their enemies.

Before you could react, Jungkook appeared by your side, putting his arm around you, hand on your shoulder. “Darling! Did you see that the servants made pavlova? We have to go get some before it all runs out, especially since these fruits aren’t even in season!”

“Excuse us,” you mumbled under your breath, directed to Taehyung.

Moving his arm, Jungkook then had his hand gently wrapped around your right wrist, pulling you into a private corner away from all the guests. As your back leaned against the wall, Jungkook let go of your wrist and stood directly in front of you, so you were face to face.

“Don’t push me away,” he said in a low voice. “Are you okay?”

“He-he.” Out of nowhere, you started heavily breathing as if there was a limited amount of air in the room. You were unable to finish your thoughts, interrupted by every scenario going through your head. Tears were about to flood your eyes, ready to leave wet trails on your face.

“Look at me,” Jungkook instructed, cupping your face with his hands, his eyes directly piercing into your soul once again. “Repeat after me. You are a queen.”

“Threat-threatened my-“ Jungkook cut you off.

“I am a queen,” he emphasized, repeating himself slowly this time. “Say it with me. I am a queen.”

“I am a queen,” you repeated, trying to believe the truth in those words. A couple more times, you repeated in a hushed tone, “I am a queen.”

“Don’t let anyone see that you’re afraid,” he said after it seemed like you were finally calming down. “Let me be the only person to see you shaking like a small useless chihuahua.”

“Are you calling me—“ He cut you off again, not letting you finish his sentence.

“I know you’re not useless.” His hands held your face a little tighter, still refusing to break eye contact with you. “You’re a queen. You will be remembered as the benevolent queen of three countries one day. And while all of everyone’s great great great grandchildren are learning about you in history books, no one will remember his name. Don’t let him get to you now and let him become a footnote in the future.”

Nodding, a tear slipped, and you quickly felt Jungkook wiping the tear with his thumb, not letting anyone else see a Queen in a vulnerable state. Your breathing was almost back to normal, feeling some comfort from his words.

“Can you do this?” He asked, repeating his question from earlier.

Despite growing up together all these years, you and Jungkook had never been this up close and personal. Even when paired up for ballroom dancing, the two of you danced awkwardly together, barely touching his fingertips. It felt unreal that you and Jungkook were now alone, staring at each other, ignoring the rest of the world around you. “Yes.”

Jungkook stared at you for another two seconds before he realized the position the two of you were in. His grip became stiff and rigid for a moment before he finally removed his hands from your face and cleared his throat, pretending as if he wasn’t trying to protect you in his arms.

“Thanks.” You coughed awkwardly, still standing in front of him. The two of you never shared an intense moment like that before, a moment filled with insecurity, vulnerability, and comfort.

Jungkook sighed and looked back at you. Without any verbal confirmation, you knew that he silently agreed that everything would go back to normal, that the two of you would go back to pushing each other’s buttons. “I should get going.”

Before you could say anything, Jungkook started to walk away. He was probably already erasing the moment out of his head.

You had to remind yourself that the two of you will wed for your countries, that it won’t be for true love or happily ever after. It'll be a marriage full of moments like these that will mean nothing to him. And you hoped they would mean nothing to you.

__________

By the next morning, Luxuria went through with their warning and sent their troops to your border, threatening your people.

“Once we received word this morning from your mother, we sent supplies to your troops.” You had barged into the room of affairs, surprising Jungkook and the Queen by your sudden appearance. “They will be there as soon as they can. We sent our fastest rider.”

The King didn’t take his eyes off the document he was reading. It seemed like the King had expected you to come in urgently while the Queen, sitting next to him, was visibly annoyed with your sudden intrusion. Jungkook, standing to the side of the room, looked baffled, unsure if he should laugh at your courage or be displeased.

“Thank you,” you said, bowing your head. “These supplies will go a long way, but supplies aren’t the only thing we need.”

“Let me guess..You want soldiers?” The King asked, still not looking at you. “I am afraid that I cannot give you men, but you have my deepest sympathy.”

“I am asking for more than sympathy. I need men, or else these supplies are useless.”

“The men that you need are the same men that we cannot give you.” He finally looked up and shrugged his shoulders.

“As Queen, I have the responsibility to find solutions, and that was through our alliance with your country, which you are not honoring.”

“Keep in mind that you are not the only one with a country to think about,” the King replied. “I am putting my country and its people first.”

“I will not forget this when I am both Queen of Caelestia and Aurum,” you challenged. “I will always put my country first. Do not hold me hostage and fulfill this alliance, or let me go.”

“The two of you need to learn this.” The King paused to point at you and Jungkook. “You are royals. You DO NOT have the luxury of doing what you want. You do what is best for your country. Perhaps, the two of you should stop wasting time. Instead of trying to think of ways to get out of your marriage, start taking action.”

“Father, I think we should help.” You took a quick look at Jungkook, surprised by his answer. “If Caelestia loses, that’ll only make Luxuria a bigger threat to our country.”

“Get out. The two of you, out now,” the King firmly demanded.

The sound of the doors slamming behind you echoed throughout the whole castle. You took a deep breath and started walking to your chambers until Jungkook caught up, walking next to you.

“Hey, I think you’re right. I am on your side.”

“You are?” You were taken back from his statement, not expecting him to be on your side for politics. “Why?”

“Because after your country, mine will be next,” Jungkook explained. “By working together, we can slowly defeat the Luxurian military. I just need some time to convince my father.”

Caught up in a moment of joy, you wrapped your arms around Jungkook, pulling him into a tight hug. Your happiness must have overcome the supposed feelings of animosity you had towards him. “Thank you!”

Jungkook hesitantly and slowly embraced you back.

__________

“This must be the day pigs are going to grow wings and fly,” Lady Adoree exaggerated.

Ladies-in-waiting were the Queen’s female companions, typically wealthy noblewomen. They accompanied you, staying by your side for most events. Not only were they your attendants, but they were also your closest friends. And you were the closest to Lady Adoree.

“Trust me, you’re not the only one who’s surprised by all of this,” you mumbled under your breath.

“I’ve been gone for seven days, and somehow, you and Jungkook are engaged to each other.” She had traveled to Aureus, the capital of Aurum, for the last week to meet with her a suitor, which did not end up well. “Then, he’s willingly trying to help you as if he didn’t try to sabotage this alliance or even your whole life here.”

“Excuse me, Lady Adoree.” The two of you were still at the dining table after finishing lunch, catching up. You looked up and saw Prince Dasher waiting behind Lady Adoree’s chair. “Can I please have a moment with your queen?”

“Prince Dasher,” you greeted as Lady Adoree stood up from her chair, allowing Dasher to take her seat. “I thought you were on your way home.”

“Well, it turns out we still have more negotiations with Aurum to discuss, which is delaying our departure,” he said. “It is not a total disaster as I am blessed to spend another second with a beautiful queen.”

“Are these sweet words repeated to every other queen?” You quipped.

“Just you,” he claimed. “No one else can hear those words from me.”

In the corner of your eye, you could see a vein popping out of Lady Adoree’s forehead. She was frowning, not happy that she had given up her seat just for him to be flirty. Lady Adoree hated talking to guys and drove them away just as much as you did.

“I’m not new to this game,” you reminded him. “What is desired from me?”

Prince Dasher leaned into your ear, whispering, “I heard Prince Jungkook cannot give you the help you need for the Luxuria Troops.”

You pressed your lips together, trying to dull up any emotions on your face. “I’m still not hearing what you want from me.”

Instead of verbally answering, Prince Dasher cleared his throat and pushed his chair back, almost hitting Lady Adoree. He then kneeled on his right knee, causing Lady Adoree to gasp loudly.

“What are you doing?!” You growled. “Get up.”

“My desire is you,” he said. “Now I am no longer the King’s Bastard and am finally the legitimate Prince of Cometes. I am here to seek out the best deal and I believe Caelestia is that.”

“To my knowledge, everyone including yourself knows that I am already betrothed!” You looked around, hoping no one else was in the room witnessing this act.

“I can give you the men you need to fight Luxuria,” he promised.

You sighed. “My attention is yours.”

He beamed at your defeat. “Perhaps the dissolution of your alliance with Aurum will help your country, Queen Y/N.”

Your jaw clenched. “And if we were to wed, do you really think Luxuria will just stop?”

“I think you’ve forgotten,” he stressed. “Luxuria and Cometes have been allies for centuries. I hope you consider this offer.”

__________

Jungkook stayed silent.

It was after midnight, and the two of you met in a private room on the other side of the castle, away from everyone else. No one really came to this side of the castle. It was mainly used to have secret meetings, not wanting to be seen by anyone else.

You were pacing around the room, playing with your hands, anxious to hear his thoughts after telling him Prince Dasher’s offer as he sat down on the bench and had his chin resting on his cupped hands together.

“Are you going to say something?” You stopped walking back and forth and came to a stop. “What are you thinking about?”

He sighed before standing back up to face you. “I-I think you should do it.”

“What?” Your heart sank, pain settling in your chest. Despite being the Queen of Caelestia, you viewed Aurum as if it were your home to you. Even though you had no intention of ruling Aurum and this alliance came out of nowhere, you felt a sense of happiness that you could finally give back to the country that gave you everything.

Aurum was a part of you whether you liked it or not, and with Jungkook’s answer, it seemed like Aurum didn’t want you. And that he didn’t want you. There were a bunch of conflicting emotions going through your mind, but you pushed them away, needing to think about your country. “Are you serious?”

He ran his fingers through his hair. “Think about it, Y/N. How could you pass this up?”

“What happened to being on my side?!” You exclaimed. “And you’re just going to let it go? Just like that.”

“I don’t want to,” he admitted, quickly taking your hands and holding them. “But there’s nothing I can do to change my father’s mind…to help your country. I’ve tried and tried. We are just in this alliance, and you are getting nothing..”

“You don’t want to marry me,” you said bitterly, letting go of his hold. “That’s the real reason, isn’t it?”.

“It’s not that,” Jungkook denied. There was a sense of desperation in his voice. “Believe me, I know I’ve been trying to get out of this alliance. But I’m not telling you to do it because of that. I’m telling you to do this, because this is what is best for your country.”

“Is that really it?”

“You’ve been Queen your whole life. You should have known that alliances can easily shift,” Jungkook quickly snapped, changing his demeanor suddenly. “Your country gets the help it needs, and my country will not be ruled by an Ice Queen.”

And Jungkook walked away like it was the easiest thing in the world to do.

#bts fanfic #bangtanwriters-net #bts scenarios #jeon jungkook scenarios #jeon jungkook #jungkook imagine #jungkook fluff #jungkook fanfic #crown kingdom #royalty au #jungkook royalty #enemies to lovers #jungkook angst #mine #jungkook x reader

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wildestdreamsblog · 1 year

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Hiraeth IV

Pairing: Kim Seokjin x Reader

Summary: You had always been his, and no one could take you away from him. Idol!AU

Warnings: Yandere behavior, Obsessiveness, Possessiveness, Manipulative behavior, Slight age gap, Murder intention, Mention of death, Sexual themes, If you’re not 18+ please, PLEASE, do not interact. Be mindful of the warnings. Let me know if I miss anything.

A/N: back from the grave :>

Masterlist, Hiraeth III

Seven years ago, United States of America

“You saw him last night,” your therapist repeated gently when you paused to breathe. Your eyes watered, remembering the dream- no, the nightmare you had last night. It had been almost two years since you last saw any of them, since you last saw any remnants of your past.

It had been two years, yet one dream of him managed to shatter your progress. One dream of his sorrowful eyes managed to break you. And you hated it. You hated him. You hated yourself for not being stronger.

He was just a figment of your imagination, memories manifesting themselves through your subconscious- and sadly, that was enough to make you crumble.

You reminded yourself that Seokjin was just that- someone from your past.

“And how did that make you feel?”

You looked up at her with tears in your eyes, “Terrified,” you whispered shakily, wrapping your hands tighter around yourself. “He terrifies me.”

She regarded you over her eyeglasses for a moment, her hands posed to write on her list of all the things that were wrong about you. “You still think he killed your father,” she said with a matter-of-fact tone.

And you answered merely with anger in your eyes.

You ran.

Of course you ran again. You weren’t strong enough to stay, and even if you were, there was no place in your heart for him. Not when it still hurt looking at him. Not when every time you look into his eyes, you were brought back to that day when he died. Not when you were reminded of that day, not when your desperation and misery were resurfacing every time he was near.

Not when a part of you blamed him for the tragedy of the only family you had.

This was exactly why you left.

This was why you ran so far that you left the only home you knew, and why you left him standing there alone with his head bowed down.

“The faster you get the owner to sign, the faster you can return here,” your boss replied from over the video chat, excitement apparent in his voice once you finished your presentation. You included other restaurants that you visited with Jungkook, even going as far as underselling Seokjin’s business. You even didn’t mention that he was the owner, respecting his privacy.

And yet, your boss who wasn’t even paying you enough to face your nightmare, chose his restaurant. It was just your fucking luck, you thought.

“Boss, I really think that the first option is better-“

He squinted his eyes at you as though he was looking right through your bullshits. You knew his restaurants was the best among the choices. Objectively speaking, choosing him would benefit your company the most. Even without his named connected to the store, it was already performing better than the others. You wondered that what height of success it would reached once people knew that the Kim Seokjin owned it? You knew that. Yet, you were only human and as such, you couldn’t help but be affected by your emotions, to be subjective when success was merely one signature away.

“The faster you can return here, the sooner you’ll get your promotion which is already being processed. The only thing missing is my signature. And I did promise you I will sign, the promotion is yours- as soon as you get the owner to sign.”

This was a draining meeting and an even more exhausting day. You didn’t think you slept at all last night, and you left his house early morning like a common thief, moving so quietly and taking the things you considered essential with you. You just really wanted to breathe, to be think without his intoxicating presence clouding your mind.

“I know you can do this. I trust no one but you.”

Of course you knew you could. The question lied whether you would survive this, whether you would survived him.

Those were his parting words before he ended the call. Had this been anyone else, literally anyone else, you would have been on top of this. You were a professional and damn good with your job. This shouldn’t be any different…right?

In fact, this should have been easier because you knew him. You knew Kim Seokjin. Except that you couldn’t be any more wrong. You didn’t know the other half of him, the sinister, selfish and dark side of him.

The coffee shop was now swarming with people as the day approached midmorning. Ever since you left his house, you were here quietly working, doing anything to take your mind off that kiss…off of him. Yet, every time you closed your eyes, your mind went to him. You could still feel his lips on yours, could still feel the warmth of his hands as he cradled you so close to him, could still feel how truly powerless you were when it came to him. If you were going to be completely and utterly honest, you could still feel how hard your heart was beating that moment. He was a force to be reckoned with. He was then, and still was, bigger than life. It was truly unfair how he grew old to be even more perfect and dashing than he was when you were younger. And what you hated the most was how he could still fucking affect you as though you were still that young girl who followed him around. And look what he reduced you to, a coward who ran when he was at his weakest.

You sighed before turning to look at the window to your right, only to be met with who seemed to be the lead rapper and main dancer of the group, Jung Hoseok. He was wearing a disguised, only his eyes could be seen and he was apparently looking at you with urgency in his eyes. His body was huffing in exhaustion as though he had been running around.

He did not waste anymore time as he entered the coffee shop and went to you, his hand immediately encircling your wrist as though to ensure that you could no longer run.

“You have to come with me.”

“What? Why?” Your brows furrowed at the seriousness on his face. You were aware that he was the sunshine of the group, that he was the light of the group. You would be living under a rock if you didn’t know of him. This was the reason why it confused you why he suddenly seemed…angry. Or why he looked to be moving with utmost urgency.

You could feel people looking at you with curiosity, and it wouldn’t be long before someone recognized him. He knew it. And you knew it. Hoseok was taking advantage of the fact that he bet you wouldn’t want to make a scene, and thus he was able to take you in his car without much of a fight.

He maneuvered the car expertly, his eyes focused on road. He was the perfect picture of calmed and composed if not for the way he gripped the steering wheel. Amongst all the members, he was probably the least you had interaction with which was precisely why how he was acting confused the hell out of you. He was acting as though you had personally offended him, as though what you did was close to becoming unforgivable.

Which brought you once again to this question: what did you do to him?

“What is this all about?” You asked him in a barely restrained contempt. You didn’t bode well with being dragged out of an establishment by a man you barely knew, and his silence was not doing him any good but to piss you. It was a good thing you weren’t a sensitive person for how could you grow up to be one when you were being constantly rejected by Seokjin. He was running and pushing you away at least three times a day that you almost felt bad for him. Almost.

But this man beside you was driving you nuts

You thought he wouldn’t answer as he only chuckled without any emotions, his eyes cold as he glanced briefly at you.

“Do you know what you’ve done to him? Do you have any idea what you’re doing to my hyung?” He asked conversationally as if his words weren’t meant to be knives to you.

“Wha-“

“Put on your seatbelt,” he ordered harshly, looking at you with coldness in his eyes. “As much as I hate how you made him a mess, I know you getting hurt would messed him up further.”

“What are you talking about?!”

“You’ll see.”

Hoseok left you with no choice but to follow him, his steps brisk as he entered the Hybe building with obvious familiarity. After numerous turns, he stopped in front of a door. You heard crashes of something heavy and corresponding grunts of men struggling before you even saw him. Hoseok turned to you with coldness in his eyes before he even opened the door. And what you saw was your usually strong Jin reduced to a mess of a man. His eyes were hallow, his hair a mess as he struggled against the hold of Namjoon and Jungkook who were trying their best to contain him. Your mouth hanged agape as you took him in and the chaos that he seemed to have caused to the what you thought was once a pristine room: chair thrown across the room, devices swept off of the table, decorations askew as though they suffered from violence. He still hadn’t looked at you, still hadn’t taken notice of your presence and you didn’t know why you were glad for it.

“Hyung, stop it! You’re hurting yourself!” Jungkook pleaded, yet it was as though he wasn’t heard. Jin’s eyes were unfocused as he struggled with the hold the two men had on him, his eyes determined.

“P-Princess- I have to find her,” he mumbled incoherently as he tried to push them away.

You stepped back albeit unconsciously as though it was your mind telling you to run from this…to run from him. But you didn’t go far. You felt J-hopes hands on your shoulders, effectively preventing you from leaving.

“Where are you going?” He asked with a low voice. “Why can’t you look at what you’ve done to him?”

“I didn’t do anything to him!” You hissed at him, struggling to get away from him, only for it to draw attention to you. Namjoon was the first to notice you and he looked both alarmed and relieved by your presence. “Fix this,” Hoseok ordered you coldly.

He smiled before stepping you near to where Jin was. “I found her, hyung,” he announced gently to the man you almost couldn’t recognized. “You need to calm down now, okay? We still need to go to our shoot, hyung.”

Jin blinked his eyes before he focused on you, his body immediately relaxing upon seeing you. Yet, your eyes weren’t on him. Instead, they focused on the nondescript bottle of medicine beside him. The orange bottle looked to be almost empty. You didn’t know why it seemed to be something important, but you couldn’t help wondering…What was that?

Namjoon’s eyes widened when he saw where your eyes were and in a blink of an eye, he snatched the container and pocketed it away from your prying eyes. However, even Namjoon’s quick reflexes were not able to stop that image from being engraved in your mind. Was Seokjin…sick?

“P-princess?” Seokjin called for you, disbelief evident in his voice. He pushed their hands away from him, his sole focus on you. He stood up immediately, his long limbs carrying him. He looked as disheveled as he felt when he thought you left him again.

You couldn’t moved. It was as though you were rooted to the ground, waiting for the inevitable. You felt his arms wrapped around you like a child scared to part with you, he was trembling as he held you to him. However, his voice was dark as he whispered to you.

“Don’t leave? Please? Never leave me again. Never disappear without saying a word again. Please. I don’t know what I’ll do if you leave.”

“Something is clearly very wrong with that boy,” Seokjin’s father muttered lowly as he watched his only son talked to you in the garden.

It was Jin’s birthday and like every year, the family threw a party for their beloved son. He was perfect, they thought. He got good grades, was sporty, obedient, independent, and showed promising intelligence when it came to their company. See, he was perfect in theory. However, the older Kim couldn’t help but noticed his strange dependence on you. It wasn’t…normal, he thought.

You weren’t supposed to be here. In fact, you had an exam tomorrow and as a fourteen year-old girl, you took your studies seriously. However, Jin didn’t take your absence from his birthday lightly. Upon hearing that you wouldn’t be able to make it, it was as though he lost his smile and what took over was an expressionless face. He didn’t know how, but Seokjin was able to make several calls and lo and behold, your exam was rescheduled.

Even at his age, a ripe eighteen year-old young man, he excluded power and he wasn’t afraid to use it and his charms to get what he wanted.

“Don’t say that, honey,” Mrs. Kim chided him gently, a frown on her face as she watched her son smiled genuinely for the first time tonight. “He’s just…close with her.”

“Honey, he’s eighteen years old now. He shouldn’t act like he did just because she wasn’t near him. You know that,” he said gently, looking into his wife’s eyes with concern. “It’s not normal. His need for her isn’t normal.”

Mrs. Kim placed her tea on the table with a light thud, “Our son is perfect. There’s nothing wrong with him,” she replied in defiance.

Perhaps, if she accepted what was apparent that time, Kim Seokjin wouldn’t turn out to be evil living in the body of an angel.

Tip Jar

Hiraeth V

#kim seokjin #bts fic #yandere bts #bts fanfic #bts yandere #kim seokjin fic #yandere kim seokjin #yandere seokjin #kim seokjin x you #kim seokjin x reader #kim seokjin x y/n #seokjin x reader #seokjin fanfic #seokjin x y/n

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cybsoo2 · 3 months

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my hearts been swallowed // i swallowed the sea

╰┈➤ synopsis — Two sides and two souls to the same story. One found suffering while the other was fueled by greed. Both ended in tragedy.

╰┈➤ pairing — yandere!jungkook x reader

╰┈➤ word count — 500+

╰┈➤ content warning — SPOILER!! double suicide, yandere behavior, jungkooks an asshole, it’s just angst, vague as always

my hearts been swallowed

You were once plagued by visions of mutilating his face or massacring his existence. Now your hatred has bled you dry, leaving desolation as your only companion. Your house on the sea is drowning in isolation. The sun mourns for you, yet too shy to show its face. Raindrops and tears, two tangled into one, fall endlessly down the walls of your shared room. Suffering in silence as you choke down the water he forces into your lungs. Apathy has disfigured you.

The internal void that holds you hostage has no room for love. Yet it is ironic that a twisted type of love is the very reason for your state of suffering. Jungkooks smiles turned to sneers, cold compliments to sweet belittling. His kisses held back a bite. Your life has become the devils apocalypse. This emotional whiplash leaves you raw and begging for an end.

Sweet, soulless Jungkook shares many similarities to another man. Although they may look the same, sharp features and dark shadows, he doesn’t hold even a candle to your other true love. The Angel of Death is kind. Gentle to the touch and comfort lies in the way he holds you. Cradled in his arms, he guides you home tonight.

i swallowed the sea

Sinner meets demise by the hand of his own sin. Jungkooks own avaricious greed consumes his one divine desire. Maiming your mind, gutting your heart just to stomp all over it. He’s mangled you and tortured you, too blinded by possession to see the suffering. He takes and takes and takes till it’s all gone. Did he love you too much? Or not love you enough? But now that you are gone his mind has fallen into a wasteland in search of you.

Jungkook was once a boy so saccharine. Heart-shaped eyes and honey tongued confessions. Obsession and paranoia festered deep beneath his lungs. He managed to keep it within his clutch as the days burned on. When did he let it all go wrong? This feeling took control of him, tearing its way out of his guts and not stopping until everything lay dead in its path.

There is a crevice in his chest where his devotion used to rest. The hollow cavity feels even colder on lonely nights without your heated hands forced into his grip. The watery grave that submerged you now sinks him. He’s never felt so heavy, taking in all this tainted water day after day. Will you both be the cause of each other’s end?

Jungkook is a man of many mistakes, yet he will not let tonight be one of them. The Devil of Darkness knocked on his door at sunrise. His enemy is bitter and vengeful. Jungkook’s own devil chases him through the night, leaving him fumbling around in the chaos for his only source of light. He stumbles his way out the door, bloodstains leave tracks in the water he’s found himself in. His last sight is the sun smiling, echoing his lost love he’s soon to see.

#bts #bts x reader #bts imagine #bts imagines #bts x you #bts fanfic #bts fic #bts drabble #yandere bts #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jungkook imagine #jungkook imagines #jungkook fanfic #jungkook fic #yandere jungkook #jungkook drabble #jungkook #jungkook angst

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borathae · 10 months

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“They were brothers brought together by tragedy and best friends separated by destiny. Seokjin, now freed of his Raven mark and unaware of his little brother’s whereabouts, visits the Queen’s castle with promises of healing the other freed Ravens. Jungkook, now living his life as the Queen’s Consort and uninformed of Seokjin’s fate, doesn’t know that today will be the day he will finally reunite with his bigger brother.”

Pairing: Best Friends!Jungkook x Seokjin | Seokjin x f.Reader OC 1 | Jungkook x f.Reader OC 2

Genre: Fantasy!AU, Slice of Life, Childhood Best Friends!AU, Found Family!AU, Royalty!AU, Queen Consort!Jungkook, Healer!Seokjin

Warnings: there is plot hehehe, they're best friends who got separated only to reunite again!!, they're like brothers, they share & talk about past trauma, hinted child abuse (they experienced it), but more than anyhing this is so healing and soft and lovely, Jungkook shows Seokjin the castle and Seokjin is all like "my lil bro is royalty now <3", they love each other so much like you guys they're brothers!!, they also bicker in typical jinkook fashion <3, i love this story so much you guys

Wordcount: 11.1k

a/n: because this is based on (and set after) their main stories, the boys each have a female lover which i won't name here because in their main stories it's supposed to be the reader but as a different OC each, you get me? i know you do. if you don't, just read their stories and come back to this. okay then, enjoy besties! istfg i love this universe so much :(

𓄿 Index 𓄿

Seokjin is nervous. It was his idea and yet he is still terribly nervous. He hasn’t been back in the castle since he climbed the walls and fled. It has been thirteen full moons since then and also thirteen full moons since he found his true destiny. She is with him today, because she will do most of the talking and work while he will assist her. She found him washed up by the riverbank next to her house and took him in. He was lucky because she was a healer – the trusted healer of the Queen even – and despite his past, she nurtured him until he felt whole again. His past, Seokjin aches in guilt when he thinks about it, is also the reason why he felt so nervous about today despite it being his idea.

He was a Raven once. A Raven of the Black Forest. The Ravens are a group of young boys and men poisoned by the twisted worldviews of their cruel leader Rafkan. He is one of the Nïuri, a peaceful people which use their immortality to nurture the earth, but not Rafkan as he uses his immortality to ruin young boys’ futures and kill innocent people. A black tattoo of a raven brands the members of Rafkan’s group and lets everyone know that the wearer was unlucky enough to fall into Rafkan’s hands.

Seokjin thankfully escaped his claws and managed to free himself of the marks which once ruined his chest.

The reason for today’s visit to the Queen’s castle was based on this exact mark. Most Ravens didn’t want to get tattooed. Most were not older than five when Rafkan drilled the tattoo deep under their skin, ignoring their screams of pain and cries for mercy. Seokjin still remembers how he screamed and cried as the thick needle repeatedly punctured his skin. He was seven.

With the help of Seokjin’s true destiny and forever partner, he was able to rid himself of the mark and he wants to grant the same opportunity to his fellow freed Ravens. It is well known in the Queendom that the Queen’s castle serves as refuge for many Ravens, who were lucky enough to escape Rafkan’s poisoned grip. Although Rafkan still tells his boys that the Queen and her late mother kill Ravens for sports, it isn’t the truth. Ravens get a second chance at the castle. They are free to stay in her castle and they are free to leave to wherever they crave to go. Seokjin could have stayed as well and he could have left if he wanted to, but back then he was still too stubborn to see that. So he fled in the dark of the night, swearing to himself never to return to the castle.

And now he is back. He is back at the place he swore never return to, but he isn’t guilty, he is just so very nervous. What if his idea fails? What if the marks of his freed brothers won’t fade? Seokjin watched it with own two eyes as his love removed it from his chest and yet he is scared that somehow the healing spell won’t work today.

There are also other worries plaguing him. He worries that he won’t be welcome at the castle anymore. That he will be captured and thrown into prison. His love assured him that this won’t happen, as she knows the Queen to be of very forgiving nature, but Seokjin was still nervous. He has been clutching his love’s hand ever since the castle gates came into view.

“Don’t be scared, my dearest”, she tells him, giving him a reassuring smile.

“I know, but I truly am. I do not want to be thrown into prison”, he says.

“There is no reason for that. Yes, you left in secrecy, but if the queen sees that you used your freedom to find happiness and a purpose, she will be happy”, she says and pulls him closer, “you will be alright, my dearest. And perhaps if we are lucky, Jungkook will be there as well.”

Seokjin smiles at the mention of his lost brother. He is happy, but he also aches. This is the last worry which plagues him and which makes it difficult for his heart to beat normally.

What if Jungkook wasn’t in the castle? What if he is still caught in Rafkan’s fangs? What if he didn’t find freedom? What if he died?

Seokjin spent his night sleepless and repeating the worrying questions over and over again. He is so scared. So, so scared that today’s journey will bring news of grief for him.

The Queen knew of the healer’s visit to the castle. She sent a letter a week ago, telling her that she had a cure for the Raven mark and that she can offer her services to the freed Ravens living in the castle. The Queen instantly agreed and sent word to all neighbouring villages that whoever wanted to rid himself of his marks may do so in one week. The halls and courtyard are buzzing in life. Ravens, who haven’t seen each other in years have come to the castle, celebrating their near future of true freedom. The emotions were high and food was plenty.

Jungkook has been excited all day. He was the first to know of the healer’s arrival. The letter met his love at night when they were already in bed, getting ready for sleep. She opened it next to him and then began crying in happiness.

“What’s the matter, my destiny?” Jungkook asked her back then, feeling worried until she told him of the good news and Jungkook joined her in her tears of happiness. Being freed of the mark was all he dreamt of ever since he escaped Rafkan and in a week he will finally make his dream a reality.

Today was finally the day. The healer will arrive any second now and Jungkook will finally be free. Truly and visibly free. He has been spending his day talking to all his fellow Ravens. Many still lived in the castle and became his friends, but many came from the villages and towns and felt more like distant relatives to Jungkook. Today however they all felt connected and high in spirits.

Jungkook has already drunk two mugs of mead and ate way too much of the flavourful pork belly. He feels overjoyed, but also very needing of the bathroom.

He excuses himself from the courtyard to hurry inside.

“My starlight, there you are”, the Queen - and his fiancée - greets him inside, taking his hands, “I looked everywhere for you.”

“Forgive me, I was in the courtyard talking to all of my brothers.”

Jungkook gives her a kiss on the cheek because he loves her a lot. She leans into the kiss with her fingers squeezing his hands.

“Don’t apologise. I merely wanted to tell you that the healer and her apprentice will be here soon. Our warriors saw them coming up the roads.”

“Really? Oh heavens, I need to hurry up then”, Jungkook says, slipping his hands out of his finacée’s loving hold.

“Why? What are you doing?”

“I need to relieve myself. I drank too much and my bladder is going to burst.”

“Oh heavens, well”, she chuckles, “hurry up then, you precious boy you”, she says and gives his butt a gentle pat as if too speed up his steps.

“I will, worry not”, Jungkook says and hurries away in hasty steps.

He will reach the toiletries in time with the healer and Seokjin arriving at the castle. He will be relieving himself as the Queen welcomes them with smiles and music. And he will wash his hands thoroughly as the healer and Seokjin set up their healing station and the Ravens begin lining up for their freedom. He doesn’t know of Seokjin yet.

Truly, it is such an awful twist of fate that Jungkook’s bladder decided to give up mere seconds before Seokjin entered the courtyard. The dark haired healer scans his eyes over the dozens and dozens faces, hoping to see the face of his brother in them. He knows most of the Ravens gathered here and the joy of seeing them is grande, but none of them was Jungkook. Jungkook was special to Seokjin. Jungkook was like a little brother to Seokjin.

Only five years younger than Seokjin and with fear in his big eyes, Jungkook became a Raven when Seokjin was ten years of age. Jungkook hid the moment Rafkan and the older Ravens left him at the camp to hunt for food. Jungkook refused to come out of hiding for hours. Even when dinner was promised, he didn’t leave his hiding spot, which ended in Rafkan punishing him for “ignoring his body’s needs”.

Seokjin and the other boys always had to watch when one of them was punished and Jungkook’s punishment was no exception. Seokjin always felt terrible when he watched his fellow young brothers cry because of what Rafkan did, but there was something about Jungkook crying that night which hit Seokjin especially hard. The poor, frightened boy hid again the second the punishment was finished and only his small, pained sobs were heard in the camp. The other boys were too frightened to check up on him, but Seokjin was overtaken with a sense of protectiveness and so he crawled under the thorny bushes Jungkook was hiding in and offered the younger boy a hug. Jungkook didn’t want to take it at first, but all it took was one smile from Seokjin and he fell into his arms and cried his broken heart out.

Ever since that night, Seokjin and Jungkook shared a special bond and a deep, honest love. They hugged each other when they were sad or scared or in pain, they shared every meal with each other, shared blankets when the nights were cold, shared laughter when the days weren’t as dark and shared every stage a young boy goes through as he grows into a man. They would have shared adulthood as well, but Seokjin decided to leave to kill the Queen and till this day he regrets leaving without Jungkook.

Their last conversation ended in anger and hurtful words. Rafkan managed to influence Jungkook and poison his mind. Seokjin never truly allowed the poison to take hold of him and wanted to use the opportunity to flee together from Rafkan. So he told Jungkook of his plans and had to realise that his younger brother met it with anger and resentment. They fought, Jungkook called him hurtful things and Seokjin left without Jungkook. Until this day, Seokjin regrets that he left that night, that he didn’t try harder to convince his little brother and that he left even when the last words they shared were of angry nature.

If Seokjin has to realise that Jungkook wasn’t at the castle or that he had already died, he won’t ever forgive himself and he might never truly be himself again.

Seokjin shifts in his seat restlessly. He and his love have already healed ten Ravens of their marks and yet he still hasn’t spotted Jungkook. He asked each of them if they knew of Jungkook, but most were too old to know of him. They must have been Ravens before their time. Perhaps the Queen’s mother rescued them when she was still alive.

The Queen hasn’t come back either. She excused herself once she exchanged a few friendly words with Seokjin and his love and hasn’t returned since. Seokjin grows worried that she had went to get her warriors. After all, she looked at him as if she saw a ghost and then spoke of needing to go.

Seokjin keeps scanning the crowd for warriors out to get him and for Jungkook. Truly, he might need to excuse himself to the toiletries soon for his stomach keeps twisting in nervousness.

He sees the Queen then. She is hurrying over the courtyard with a man by her side. His face is shielded from his vision, but he can see that she is holding his hand. Seokjin gulps. He can’t explain it, but he feels uncomfortably nervous all of a sudden. Anxious even.

“Hello.”

One of the freed Ravens drags his attention away. He sits down in front of him and presents his bared chest to him.

“You have no idea for how many years I dreamt of ridding myself of this cursed mark”, he says.

“Oh, I know how you feel”, Seokjin says and begins spreading the purple cream on the man’s chest, “what’s your name?”

“Bartholomew.”

Seokjin gasps, looking at him with widened eyes.

“Bartholomew?”

He laughs, “you didn’t recognize me, did you? I blame the good food in the castle. I eat wonderfully these days”, he says and slaps his belly as a happy laugh shakes his shoulders.

“I didn’t recognize you. You look so healthy”, Seokjin says and bites back tears, “I can’t believe my eyes. You survived.”

“As did you, sweet boy”, Bartholomew says and caresses Seokjin’s cheek, “you look healthy, my boy.”

“I am. I am so healthy and I’m in love”, Seokjin says, sending his love a chaste look.

Bartholomew smiles, “this is good. Yes, love makes the life sweet. I’m in love as well. His name is Derrec. He’s a weaver in town and we met as I shopped for fabrics.”

“This is so wonderful. Oh, I am so happy for you”, Seokjin says and pulls his hand back, “you can go to my love and she will activate the magic. Your mark will be gone once you wipe the cream.”

“Oh, I can’t believe that I can still witness this day”, Bartholomew says and stands up from his chair.

“Bartholomew?” Seokjin calls his attention one last time.

“Yes, Seokjin?”

“Did you…” gulps in nervousness, “did Jungkook come here?”

“Jungkook?” Bartholomew says and widens his eyes, “my sweet boy, you do not know yet?”

“Know what?” Seokjin jumps off his chair, “what happened to him? P-please what happened?”

Bartholomew shifts his eyes to his side. Seokjin follows his line of sight and feels hit in shock.

The Queen is before him and the man holding her hand is Jungkook.

“Brother”, he presses out as his eyes fill with tears.

“Brother”, Seokjin gets out and sobs, “are you real?”

Jungkook nods his head vigorously and sobs.

“Jungkook….”

“Seokjin….”

Seokjin rounds the table, Jungkook breaks away from his fiancée. They fall into each other’s arms, crying miserably as they tighten the hug as best as their bodies allow it. Seokjin forgets all about the cream on his fingers, smearing it into Jungkook’s hair as he holds his little brother closer. Jungkook doesn’t care about the state of his hair as he sobs into the crook of Seokjin’s neck and cradles the back of his older brother’s head.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry for everything I said that night. I’m so sorry”, Jungkook wails.

“It’s okay. It’s okay. I’m not angry. Oh, I’m sorry for leaving you. I’m so sorry, I never should have left”, Seokjin cries.

“It’s okay. I’m not angry at you. Not anymore. Seokjin”, Jungkook sobs and pulls him closer, “oh Seokjin, you’re real. I love you so much.”

“I love you too. Oh Jungkook, my brother”, Seokjin sobs and turns his head to kiss Jungkook’s ear. It is the first thing his lips grazed and Jungkook leans into the kiss as a sob and laugh leaves him at the same time. Seokjin laughs with him just as much as he sobs.

All his worries turned out to be exactly that. Worries. Jungkook is alive. He is well. He is free. And he is finally by his side again. Seokjin has his little brother back.

He has to take a step back and cradle Jungkook’s face. The latter leans into the touch. His face is contorted in sobs, but the happiness practically bounces off of him. Seokjin mirrors his state, rubbing his thumbs over Jungkook’s teary cheeks over and over again.

“You’re real”, he gets out, “and you look so healthy. Oh Jungkook, you look so healthy.”

“You look healthy too”, Jungkook answers him, cupping his cheeks, “brother, your cheeks are actually soft. Not fallen in from hunger.”

“As are yours”, Seokjin squishes Jungkook’s cheeks, “are you eating well? Are you warm? Can you sleep in peace?”

Jungkook nods his head vigorously, “yes, yes. Yes to everything. And you? Are you living well?”

“Yes, oh yes I am.”

Jungkook whimpers and smiles, spilling tears.

“I’m so happy”, he confesses in a squeaky voice.

“Me too. Come here”, Seokjin says and pulls him back into a tight hug.

Jungkook squeaks in laughter, hugging him back. The two men stumble as they hug, painting a little circle with their feet as if they were dancing. Their bodies were filled with too much happiness. Only moving around could help them relieve it.

It is Jungkook who breaks the hug, holding Seokjin’s cheeks.

“Did you become a healer? Is that your destiny?”

“Yes. Yes it is. Oh Jungkook, I am so happy and I’m in love.”

Jungkook’s eyes lighten up, “you are?”

“Yes. Jungkook, please meet my love”, Seokjin says and turns his little brother to his love. He tells him her name and Jungkook repeats it with a smile.

“I know you. My fiancée talks greatly about you and I truly love your bathing oils when the sickness season arrives”, Jungkook says, bowing his head at her.

“Oh thank-”

“Your fiancée?!” Seokjin falls into her words accidentally for Jungkook’s confession shocked him greatly, “you found love as well? Who is she?”

“That would be me”, the Queen says and for just a moment, Seokjin feels unable to speak. He gawks at the Queen, knowing that it was rude to do so, but he couldn’t help himself.

“What?” he gets out and parts his lips.

The Queen smiles fondly, while Jungkook lets out a giddy giggle.

“Yes, you heard correctly. We are soon to be married”, he says and hugs her waist as he squishes his cheek against hers, “she asked me to be her husband a month ago and I said yes. We ought to marry in autumn, but don’t spread the news yet. We want to announce it soon.”

“I do not know what to say. Jungkook”, Seokjin steps closer, “my dearest Jungkook, you are engaged and, and. And you’re marrying the Queen?!”

“Yes. Yes, I am”, Jungkook giggles.

“Oh Jungkook”, Seokjin tears up, “I am so happy for you.”

“Don’t cry”, Jungkook says even if his own eyes are glassy. He lets go of the Queen to take Seokjin’s hands instead, “it was you who made it possible. If you hadn’t left that night, I never would have left as well and I never would have found my destiny.”

“What do you say? I barely did anything.”

Jungkook shakes his head, “I volunteered to leave because I wanted to find you”, he confesses and tears up, “I was frightened without you, I regretted our last night together and I was scared that I would never see you again, so I volunteered to be the next to leave so I could look for you. I am sorry that I never found you.”

“Jungkook….”

“Seokjin”, Jungkook breathes.

“Oh my little one”, Seokjin says and cradles Jungkook’s cheeks. Jungkook leans into his touch with sparkly, half-lidded eyes, “you do not apologize to me. Please, allow me to get rid of your mark. It is the least I can do to repent for leaving you that night.”

“I dreamt of this day. I dreamt of ridding myself of the mark”, Jungkook confesses.

“And it will become reality soon. Sit. Sit right here and I will free you.”

Jungkook allows Seokjin to sit him down on a chair and because it was Jungkook, Seokjin sits him down on his chair behind the table. He prepares the cream while Jungkook unbuttons his expensive tunic.

The Queen is by his side, caressing his shoulder. Jungkook places his hand over hers’, looking at Seokjin with his chest bare.

“Are you nervous?”

“No. I can’t wait for it.”

“It will become very warm. Hot almost.”

Jungkook squeezes the Queen’s hand, “I can take it”, he says with a smile.

Seokjin moves his fingers closer to Jungkook’s chest. He is trembling. Jungkook meets his eyes

“Are you nervous?” he asks Seokjin.

“I am.”

“Why?”

“I am frightened that it won’t work all of a sudden.”

“I am certain that it will”, the Queen throws in with warmth in her eyes.

“Yes, me too”, Jungkook agrees and smiles, “I trust in your abilities and that of your love”, he says and looks at the healer with a smile.

One she retorts. Work at the table has stopped ever since Jungkook arrived here. Everyone understood. Not only because Jungkook was soon to be Queen Consort and therefore important, but also because the emotional reunion between two separated brothers moved many Ravens to tears. They shared their emotions well. Some knew exactly how such a reunion feels like, while others still wished for the experience.

The Ravens closest to the table are watching as Seokjin spreads the purple cream on Jungkook’s chest.

“It is done”, he says and turns to his partner, “my world, may you do the rest, please?”

“Of course”, she says and stands up. She bends down in front of Jungkook, meeting his eyes.

Jungkook spots warmth and comfort in her eyes. He understands why Seokjin loves her, because goodness surrounds her. Seokjin has always had a good heart, of course he would fall for someone with a kind heart.

“May I?” she asks.

Jungkook turns his head to look at his fiancée. She smiles, squeezing his shoulder gently. Jungkook retorts her smile and looks back at the healer.

“Yes.”

With his consent, she hovers her hands over his chest and whispers ancient words of healing. The cream begins heating up on his chest.

“Oh?” he lets out, furrowing his brows in surprise.

“Is it bearable? It will still get hotter”, she makes sure.

“Yes, it’s just really warm”, Jungkook says and shifts. The Queen gives his shoulder little caresses of encouragement, “oh. Oh, it’s getting very warm. Oh, it feels really hot.”

“You are almost done”, Seokjin says and holds his hand, “you are very brave.”

Jungkook forgets all about the discomfort and looks at Seokjin. The familiarity of those words. It tightens his throat in emotion. Seokjin said them to him countless times before when they were children and Jungkook needed comfort. When he woke after a nightmare about his dead parents and cried in Seokjin’s arms, he always whispered them to him. When he hid and sobbed after a punishment, Seokjin always found him and said them to him as he mended his wounds. When the Black Forest shook his body in fear and the two boys stayed with each other for support, Seokjin repeated them like a mantra until the monsters didn’t feel so scary anymore. They fell often between the two boys and yet they never lost their meaning. Jungkook missed hearing them and in this moment he feels as if he could do anything.

“It is done.”

“Really? Already?”

Seokjin nods his head.

Jungkook looks at the piece of cloth Seokjin offers him.

“Wipe the cream away.”

Jungkook slips his hand from the Queen’s loving hold and accepts the cloth. He looks at his own chest as best as possible and wipes at the cream. It is an easy task to remove it.

“No”, Jungkook gasps, tearing up, “the mark is gone”, he whispers and looks at Seokjin, “it is gone”, he gets out and looks at the Queen, “my mark is gone!”

“Truly?” she gasps and rounds him so she could look at his chest, “Jungkook”, she chokes out and cups his cheeks. She spills tears, “your mark is gone.”

“It is gone”, he repeats and cups her face. He stands up and pulls her into a kiss.

Seokjin turns away for now, wanting to be respectful. He closes in on his own love and rests his chin on her shoulder, hugging her waist gently. She rubs her hand up and down his lower back, resting her head against his’.

“We are doing something good here”, he whispers.

“We are”, she agrees and turns her head to give his lips a chaste kiss, “are you happy?”

“Yes”, Seokjin smiles a soft smile. The kind which lifts his cheeks, “I found Jungkook.”

“I know. I am so happy for you that I feel like crying.”

“Seokjin”, Jungkook interrupts their moment, “my mark is gone!”

Seokjin breaks away from his love and looks at Jungkook. The younger man is smiling brightly, bouncing on the spot.

“I know. How do you feel?”

“Free. I feel finally truly free.”

“You are.”

Jungkook laughs and falls around Seokjin’s neck, “we are free.”

“We are. We are free”, Seokjin agrees and hugs his little brother.

“You will all be free soon”, the Queen says to the waiting Ravens, “now come my friends and get your marks removed. We held up your freedom for too long.”

“We didn’t mind, my Queen!” one of the Ravens screams from the back. The others agree with nods of their heads and smiles on their faces.

The Queen claims the chair Seokjin sat in before and picks up the bowl of purple cream.

“Come now, come”, she calls the next Raven to the table.

“My Queen?” he seems confused, but she merely smiles at him.

“I am certain that Seokjin and Jungkook have lots of catching up to do”, she says, grinning at Seokjin and her fiance.

Jungkook nods his head, while Seokjin looks at her shyly.

“I will take over for Seokjin so he can talk to my starlight”, she explains and points at the chair opposite of her, “now sit down and receive your true freedom.”

“Yes, my Queen. Oh, I feel honoured”, he says with a giggle, “I am helped by the Queen. I will tell my Mahryon about it.”

“Yes? How is the sweet woman?”

“Same old, same old. She started…”

Their conversation dies out in their ears as Jungkook turns Seokjin to the healer.

“Can I steal him away?” he asks her.

“Of course. You two have lots of catching up to do.”

“Are you certain? I do not want to burden you”, Seokjin makes sure.

“I am certain. Go, my beloved. I have my friend helping me”, she says.

“Thank you so much”, he says and kisses her lips, “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

“I promise to return him by nightfall”, Jungkook jokes, making her laugh.

She rubs his arm sisterly, “I am certain you will.”

He gives her one last grin then turns to Seokjin.

“Do you want to see my rooms?”

“Of course I do.”

“Come, follow me.”

The Queen and the healer watch as the two men hurry over the courtyard. They managed around half of the way when they watch Seokjin take Jungkook into a gentle headlock, which the younger man fights off with gentle punches into Seokjin’s side. The two men continue to stumble to the castle as they playfight each other. It is as if no time had passed between them.

“I am happy that they found each other again”, the Queen says.

“Yes, me too. Brighter days will be on the horizon for them.”

“Indeed, there will be.”

Jungkook turns, holding the golden door knob between his fingers. Seokjin is looking at him after having scanned the hallways. The castle hasn’t changed since the last time he was here. At least not what the eye can see, the heart can sense times of love in those hallways. Jungkook and his love must have filled them up day by day.

“Welcome to my chambers”, Jungkook says and opens the door. He steps inside the room. Seokjin follows, letting out gasps of utter bafflement.

Jungkook closes the door and bounces as he rounds Seokjin.

“And? What do you think?”

Seokjin doesn’t know where to look first. Jungkook’s room looks like a golden dream of riches and wealth. The stone walls were covered in oil paintings and hand-woven tapestry. One even showed Jungkook’s portrait in warm colours. Golden thread framed the portrait in shapes of ornamental flowers and leaves. The otherwise cold stone floors were covered in thick hand knotted carpets all held in shades of red, green and gold and warm furs truly managed to keep the cold from meeting the feet. Thick curtains framed the windows and the same fabric - it looked expensive - also served as curtains for Jungkook’s bed.

The bed was of impressive size. Made from the sturdiest of wood and with a canopy. Countless pillows covered the head end of the bed and a warm blanket was placed neatly over the mattress for later use.

“I don’t know what to say. This is….”

“Do you like them? These are my chambers. I spend some time here, but I must confess that I spend more time in my fiancée’s room”, Jungkook explains and giggles, “I love to hold her as we fall asleep.”

“I understand you so well. I love to hold mine as well”, Seokjin says and continues to scan the room, “I can’t believe my own eyes…”

There is a fireplace in one corner of the room. A red chaise lounge asks to be used right in front of it and a small side table made of sturdy wood offers jugs of wines and meads. In another corner, a working table offered heaps of books and stacks of drawings. Jungkook seems to use it for art and studying. Sturdy bookcases were filled with books, art supplies and expensive trinkets and in handmade wall mount, Jungkook’s swords were presented.

“Do you like it? You are so quiet”, Jungkook asks, fumbling nervously.

“Because I am lost for words. All of this…it looks so…so expensive.”

“It is. I think. She doesn’t tell me how much she spends on me”, Jungkook shies away, “I think it’s a lot.”

Seokjin meets his eyes. Jungkook’s cheeks are flushed. Seokjin smiles.

“Good. You deserve all the riches in the world.”

“Oh, uhm”, Jungkook flusters. He clears his throat, “I want to show you more. Look what I have.”

Seokjin follows him past some sturdy curtains of red fabric into a spacious bathing room.

“This is bigger than both our bedroom and bathing room together”, Seokjin gasps, widening his eyes.

“It is so big, isn’t it?” Jungkook agrees with a laugh, “and look. In all these shelves I store my jewellery. She always gets me stuff, even though I never ask for them. I don’t store my clothing here because I have my own room for them and Bartholomew tells me that it is important to keep fabrics away from moist bathing air because of mould, but I like to keep my jewellery here because then I can come here and look at them.”

“This is just….wow…”

“Then over here is where I take care of my skin”, Jungkook says and sits down in front of his mirror table. He mimics applying cream on his face, pouting for it, “like this. And then I go like this and pat it in”, he says, slapping his own cheeks gently, “and then one of my servants brushes my hair or I have my love brush my hair. I really like it when she does that.”

Jungkook stands up and hurries to his bathing room chaise lounge. He lies down on it, stretching out his legs.

“This is where I lie when I do a facial pack and someone massages my feet”, he sits up, “did you know that all of your body’s zones are connected to your feet and that by regularly massaging them, you become healthier?”

“I did. I learned about it during my apprenticeship”, Seokjin says.

“Isn’t it remarkable?”

“It is”, Seokjin says and looks at the bathtub, “you even have a tub. You truly have everything, haven’t you?”

“Ah yes, this is my tub”, Jungkook says, scrambling to his feet. He runs to it and slaps his hand on its edge. It makes a metal sound of impact, “I take baths with my love in here. We love to use your bathing oils.”

“You do?”

Jungkook nods his head excitedly, “my favourites are vanilla and wolf lily. I think they smell really nice.”

“Thank you”, Seokjin says and lowers his head as he studies the bathtub. He strokes his hand over the edge.

Jungkook gnaws on his lower lip nervously, taking a small step closer.

“Do you not like it?” he asks quietly.

“No, no it’s not that”, Seokjin says, shaking his head.

“But?”

“I always wanted to have a bathtub.”

“Do you not possess one?” Jungkook gasps.

“No. Well, at least not yet. We are trying to save up as much as possible, but a good bathtub is expensive these days. We want one in which we both fit.”

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” Jungkook says and takes Seokjin’s hands so he can sway them excitedly, “I can buy you whatever bathtub you wish for.”

“What? No”, Seokjin shakes his head, “no, you don’t have to do this.”

“I want to.”

“No, Jungkook no. This, this”, Seokjin exhales sharply, “these are your riches. I do not want to rob you of them.”

“Rob me?” Jungkook snickers, “you could never rob me. You’re my brother”, he smiles sweetly.

Seokjin feels his heart warm at the sight.

“And I want you to possess the grandest, most luxurious bathtub in the whole Queendom. No”, he grins, “the whole continent.”

Seokjin smiles, letting out a breathy chuckle of fondness. Jungkook snickers, scrunching his nose.

“Sooo? What say you?” he asks, nudging Seokjin’s chest as he wiggles his brows.

“You won’t accept a No either way, will you?”

Jungkook shakes his head, smiling with his eyes so brightly, they sparkle.

“Fine”, Seokjin gives in, “fine, I’ll allow you. By Frenya, how should I bring the news to my love?”

“Tell her that your little brother wants to treat you”, Jungkook says and leads Seokjin out of the bathing room with an arm around his shoulder, “and that I find great happiness in the thought that I can make it possible that you and her share warm baths.”

“Oh Jungkook”, Seokjin says and sighs, “you truly grew up so much. Look at you and, and look at this room.” They are in Jungkook’s bed chambers again. It still feels like a dream of riches to Seokjin. “You deserve all of this. Yes, every single treasure in this room.”

Jungkook leans his head on Seokjin’s shoulder, “thank you. Oh my brother, you’re so…” he turns and hugs Seokjin, “…I missed you so much.”

“I missed you too, little one”, Seokjin says and rubs Jungkook’s back, “now I have to ask. Can you show me your clothing room?”

“You want to see?” Jungkook looks at him excitedly, “I didn’t know if I should ask, because I don’t want to seem as if I am boasting.”

“You aren’t. Please. Show me where you store your clothes.”

“Okay, so follow me”, Jungkook says and skips to the door.

Seokjin follows him with a fond smile on his lips.

“You will really like the room. It has a mirror and a seat to relax on. Also, so many clothes”, Jungkook tells him excitedly.

“You never struck me as a clothing person.”

“I’m not. I’m really not, but my love likes to dress me up”, Jungkook says and giggles, “she always gets me the latest fashion and compliments me when I wear it, so I really like it that she does. And Bartholomew always makes me clothes in black. I really love black.”

“I know. You always did. It fits your skin tone so well.”

“Yes, I agree”, Jungkook says and opens the door next to his chambers, “now don’t judge me, but it is a little messy in here, because I needed to pick out an outfit for today. I didn’t have time to put my clothes away yet.”

“Do not worry. I don’t judge.”

“Yes, well then. Come in”, Jungkook says and leads Seokjin inside.

“Jungkook, by Frenya”, Seokjin gasps, widening his eyes as the beauty of the room overwhelms him.

It is smaller than Jungkook’s bedroom and its walls are covered in ceiling high wardrobes all bursting in the finest of clothes. On one wall, more jewellery is presented and on the lower racks, Jungkook stores his shoes.

“It is unbelievable, isn’t it?” Jungkook says and laughs, “I always have to pinch myself when I realise what life I am living these days.”

“Understandable. You are living in dreams.”

“Yes, I really am. Oh, I love it here so much”, Jungkook says as he is busy clearing the seat of his clothes.

“It is such an improvement to the Black Forest, isn’t it?” Seokjin asks.

Jungkook laughs, “yeah”, he agrees with a nod of his head, “it truly is”, he says and looks at himself in the mirror, “and now we are actually free of the mark”, he meets Seokjin’s eyes in the reflection, “aren’t we?”

“We are”, Seokjin says and smiles.

Jungkook retorts it, closing the distance between him and the mirror afterwards. He stops in front of it and opens his tunic. Seokjin watches him. Jungkook traces his chest. His fingers still know which paths to take to replicate the tattoo. His skin is unmarked however. Sunkissed and velvety just like the rest of his body and finally unmarked.

“It is truly gone”, Jungkook whispers.

“It feels unbelievable, doesn’t it?”

Jungkook nods his head.

“I know. I spent the first few days after the removal staring at my chest in disbelief.”

“I will do the same. I cannot fathom that it is really gone”, Jungkook says and does a little twirl so he could sit down on the two-seater. He lets out a heavy sigh.

Seokjin sits down next to him, looking at him. He can sense that the emotion in the room changed, he can see it on Jungkook’s features as well.

“Do you remember how it felt?” Jungkook asks.

“The removal?”

“No. Getting the tattoo.”

“Ah. Yes, I remember.”

“I wanted him to stop.”

“I know. I did too.”

“But he said that I had to keep going because I needed to be strong and make him proud. I wanted to make him proud.”

Seokjin studies the regret on Jungkook’s features.

“You were five of age and lost your parents. Of course you wanted to make him proud”, he says because he knows that Jungkook blames himself right now, “he was the adult taking up the role of a parent for your young mind, so do not blame yourself.”

Jungkook looks at Seokjin as if he hadn’t expected to hear such words of comfort and understanding.

“Do not feel ashamed of it. Instead feel anger at Rafkan for giving you such a nightmarish parental figure to lean on.”

“It is hard not to feel shame. I never should have seen him as my father.”

“I know. It is easy to blame yourself, but don’t. You were a child. Every child needs parents. Do not blame your young heart for doing what every young heart would have done.”

Jungkook nods his head in understanding.

“I try not to think about everything he did for too long”, he confesses.

“Why?”

“It makes me feel helpless.”

“Helpless?”

“Yes. Helpless. Helpless because I feel so many emotions at once and it is as if I am drowning because not one of the emotions is good.”

“I understand how you feel. I felt the same as you and sometimes when the day is darker, those feelings return. I cannot tell you a cure to the helplessness because time healed me more than anything else, however I can offer you my shoulder to lean on.”

Jungkook leans in, resting his head on Seokjin’s shoulder just like he did a million times before. There were many nights in the Raven camps where Jungkook fell asleep with his head on Seokjin’s shoulder, while the older brother watched over him. The days after such nights were exhausting for Seokjin, but he never showed his tiredness to Jungkook even if Jungkook already knew. He felt guilty whenever it happened, but life back then exhausted him so much that oftentimes he didn’t realize that it was happening.

Jungkook doesn’t feel guilty right now. He feels tranquil. His eyes are closed and his heart beats at a normal pace. Seokjin rests his head against Jungkook’s.

“You can always talk to me about what plagues you, Jungkook”, he speaks quietly, “I managed to heal as much as I did these days because I had my love listening to me. Does the Queen listen to your griefs?”

“She does. She helped me heal a lot, but I think….” Jungkook takes a shaky breath, “I think that there is still a lot to do. I feel so happy, but sometimes the memories come back. I think about everything he did and said and I look at them in a new light now that my mind is cleared of his lies and I get so inexplicably angry. Then I get sad. Heartbroken. And helpless. Does this happen to you? Are you sometimes doing something which brings you joy when suddenly the memories come back again?”

“Of course. This is how one heals from traumatic events.”

“Really? So I am not broken?”

“Of course you aren’t broken. You are doing everything right.”

Jungkook shakes his head, “I feel as if I could do more.”

“You are doing everything right. You are healing at the perfect speed.”

Jungkook inhales and it sounds steady.

Jungkook exhales and it sounds relieved.

“I missed you so much”, he whispers and throws his hand over his own eyes.

Seokjin kisses the crown of Jungkook’s head.

“I missed you too.”

“You always know what to say.”

“I try to at least.”

Jungkook laughs. Seokjin laughs as well. Jungkook lifts his head and meets Seokjin’s eyes. Seokjin cups his cheek and wipes his tears.

“I love you so much”, Jungkook whispers.

“And I love you, my little one”, Seokjin whispers and smiles.

Jungkook retorts it, “I feel as if all I do is cry. I promise I am not like this on normal days.”

Seokjin laughs, “you do not have to explain yourself. We are all humans with emotions. Today is an emotional day.”

Jungkook studies Seokjin’s features. He always knew that his big brother was wise and knowledgeable beyond his age even if he oftentimes hid his wisdom behind silly jokes. Jungkook could always rely on Seokjin and his words of wisdom were perhaps the reason why the Queen spotted goodness in his eyes all those months ago. Jungkook is certain that if he didn’t have Seokjin by his side, comforting him and guiding him secretly when Rafkan wasn’t looking, he would have become as rotten as some other devoted Ravens. It was Seokjin’s guidance and love which kept the goodness in Jungkook’s heart. He is certain of it.

“I want to show you something”, Jungkook says.

“Yes? Show me.”

“We have to get to the woods for it. I know the way”, Jungkook says and stands up, “follow me.”

And so the two men hurry through the castle until they reached the courtyard again. The sun has travelled quite some distance on the sky as the two men chatted in Jungkook’s room. Their loves are talking to each other. Seokjin and Jungkook pay them a visit before they leave.

“I want to show Seokjin the Life Oak”, Jungkook says.

“Oh yes, please do”, the Queen says and smiles, “you will find great healing in this place, Seokjin.”

“I, uhm”, Seokjin doesn’t quite know what to say because it is still unbelievable to him that he is talking casually with the Queen. Yes, he did so before when he was her guest back then, but this is different. He is a free man and her people and his well-mannered heart tells him to speak respectfully.

“Have fun, you two”, his love tells him and gives his hand a little kiss, “try not to stumble over roots. The tree fairies are especially naughty around the Life Oak.”

The Queen giggles, leaning into her friend, “indeed they are. Oh, how wonderful.”

The healer snickers, sharing in her laughter by touching her knee.

Jungkook and Seokjin soon bid their goodbyes with smiles on their faces, kissing their destinies on their lips because they loved them.

“I still cannot fathom that you are to marry the Queen”, Seokjin says as he and Jungkook hurry to the gate leading to the woods.

“Me neither. I feel so lucky. She is too good to me”, Jungkook says and sighs dreamily, “I love her so much.”

Seokjin smiles, “it feels good to be in love, doesn’t it?”

“Yes. Oh yes, it does. My heart races all the time, I feel warm all over and when I listen to her talk, my tummy flutters.”

“I understand you. I feel the same with mine”, Seokjin says and sighs, “she is the most wonderful person. The first thing she taught me was how to read and write.”

“Yes? Oh, this is exciting. So you can read as well?”

“You too?”

Jungkook nods his head, “my love taught me. It was very difficult at first, but she told me that I learned insanely fast.”

“Of course you did. You are such a fast learner and you are good at everything.”

“That isn’t correct. I hate maths.”

Seokjin laughs. Jungkook joins him.

“I hate it as well. Frustrating business indeed.”

“Yes”, Jungkook agrees in snickers.

Seokjin retorts them. Their eyes meet seconds later. There is a certain emotion in the air. One which makes both men shy away. Jungkook is brave enough to break the silence.

“Did”, he begins, “did your love also teach you what…what bodies can do?”

“Maybe”, Seokjin confesses and blushes.

“Mine did too”, Jungkook confesses with his cheeks just as flushed.

“Really?”

“Yes.”

The two men giggle in coyness, drawing closer as they share in the naughty secret.

“It feels good, doesn’t it?” Jungkook asks in a whisper.

“It does”, Seokjin whispers and covers his own eyes, “this is so embarrassing to talk about. Oh by Frenya.”

“Yes”, Jungkook agrees and covers his own ears as he scrunches his nose, “we’re such men these days.”

“Oh Jungkook, will you stop”, Seokjin whines and slaps his arm gently, “you are making me burn up.”

Jungkook giggles, burning up himself.

Jungkook knows the way to the Life Oak like he knows his way to the courtyard. He walks the paths regularly, finding healing in nature and the quiet of the forest. Seokjin feels the powers as well. Ever since he set foot into the dense forest, breathing feels easier to do.

It takes the young men around thirty minutes to reach their destiny. They spend the time greatly, talking and joking with each other every passing second. There wasn’t a second of silence between them as new stories of their lives came to their minds over and over again.

They grew silent however once they reached the clearing where the Life Oak fills the space with her presence. It happened naturally that the two men became silent. As if the Life Oak makes one do so.

“This is it”, Jungkook says quietly and closes the distance to the oak tree.

“This is it?” Seokjin whispers and steps closer to the oak, “it is…so tall. And beautiful. Why is it bleeding black…substance?”

“It’s not hurting. Not right now. Those are marks that She is happy. That She is crying tears of joy because Her earth is healthy.”

“Her earth?”

Jungkook nods his head, “touch Her.”

Seokjin places his hand on the oak tree’s trunk, flinching back in shock.

“What?” he gasps, touching it again, “what is that? Why can I….I-I feel a heartbeat.”

“Yes”, Jungkook says and places his hand next to Seokjin’s, “this tree is life itself. She gives this Queendom nourishment and makes it live. She can talk to every plant, animal and nature itself through Her roots.”

“This is”, Seokjin blinks his tears away, “I don’t know what is happening”, he says and wipes his eyes, “oh by Frenya, why am I crying?

“It is okay to cry. I cried the first time as well”, Jungkook assures him, rubbing his upper arm gently, “it is overwhelming to touch life itself. Don’t hide it and let it happen.”

Seokjin sobs softly, lowering his face into his own palm. Jungkook touches his shoulder in comfort, rubbing small circles with his thumb.

“I am not sad. I just haven’t felt like this before”, he explains.

“This is normal, let it happen. Give Her a hug if you want to”, he tells him and because Seokjin is overwhelmed in life, he does.

He hugs the ancient tree and he sobs as he does. His arms barely take up space on the thick trunk, but Seokjin still feels cradled. As if his mother was holding him and rocking him to sleep. The oak tree sings to him just like his mother would in the rustling of its leaves and croaking of its branches.

“This is life itself, Jungkook. It has a pulse as if it was alive”, Seokjin gets out, “and, and it feels as if…as if…I can’t describe it.”

“As if you are hugged by your mother”, Jungkook says.

“Yes. Oh Jungkook, I miss my mother”, Seokjin sobs.

“I miss my mother too”, Jungkook says and whimpers, “oh Seokjin, come here”, he chokes out and hugs his brother from behind, caging him in between the tree and his body.

He rubs his hand up and down Seokjin’s tummy, resting his chin on Seokjin’s shoulder.

“I’m here. You aren’t alone.”

And as they cry for their lost mothers, the Life Oak cradles them like Her sons, swaying Her branches and filling their hearts with new hope. Their mothers might have left the earth already, but She will always be there for them and in Her, their mothers will live on eternally. For every life form, no matter how small, will find its place in Her endless roots, Her never rotting foliage and Her countless branches. So in a way, as the two men hug Her for comfort, they are hugging their mothers.

“We still have each other”, Jungkook comforts him.

“We do. Oh Jungkook, thank you for showing me this place. I haven’t felt such a hug in years”, Seokjin says and turns to cradle Jungkook’s cheeks, “it felt as if my mother was holding me.

“I know. She is beautiful, isn’t She? I come here and talk to Her often, I hug Her and find comfort in Her. I believe that our mothers are continuing to live through Her.”

“I love this thought ”, Seokjin meets Jungkook’s warm gaze, “it is so beautiful and I can feel my mother. We can feel them, Jungkook.”

“We can”, Jungkook says and hugs him.

Seokjin hugs him back, combing his fingers through his hair.

“Thank you. Thank you for showing me this place”, he whispers.

“There is so much more to show you”, Jungkook whispers.

“There is?”

“Do you want to see?”

“Yes. Yes, of course I do. Oh Jungkook, please show me everything in your life.”

Jungkook steps back and gives Seokjin a loving smile before turning his back to him. He takes a deep breath and calls into the silence. Seokjin watches him with parted lips.

Jungkook finishes his calls with a content sigh and his eyes glancing at Seokjin bashfully.

“What did you do?” Seokjin asks him.

“I called for them.”

“For who?”

The forest grumbles and cracks. The small trees and thick shrubs begin dancing. Seokjin inches closer to Jungkook in fear.

“Someone is coming”, he whispers.

“I know. It’s them.”

“Them?”

Woltron steps out of the shadows. His pack follows. They build a circle around Jungkook and Seokjin, growling deeply.

“What is that? Jungkook, we need to flee”, Seokjin gasps and tries to tug Jungkook away.

Jungkook stumbles and laughs, tugging Seokjin back.

“Don’t be frightened. They’re my friends.”

“Your friends? Jungkook, this is Woltron and His pack, he will eat us.”

“No, he won’t. Look”, Jungkook says and slips out of Seokjin’s tight grasp to walk to Woltron.

“Jungkook. No”, Seokjin gasps, reaching for him but grabbing air. He has to watch with horror as Jungkook places his hand on Woltron’s nose, “I can’t watch this”, Seokjin chokes out and squeezes his eyes shut.

There is silence for a few seconds, then Jungkook speaks all of a sudden.

“Open your eyes.”

Seokjin follows even if he is scared.

“What?” he gasps.

Jungkook is sitting atop of Woltron, carrying a smile on his face.

“They’re my friends”, he says and taps Woltron’s shoulder, “Woltron, this is my big brother Seokjin.”

Woltron closes the distance between him and Seokjin. Seokjin tries to stumble back, but collides with the nose of another wolf.

“Forgive me!” he squeaks and jumps away, which makes him collide with Woltron’s nose, “ah! Forgive me! Please, don’t eat me!”

Jungkook laughs, “calm down, brother. They don’t want to eat you. Take a deep breath and look into Woltron’s eyes.”

“But-”

“Trust me.”

Seokjin studies Jungkook’s features.

“Trust me”, the younger man repeats and smiles.

It gives Seokjin enough strength that he takes a deep breath and then meets Woltron’s piercing gaze. The wolf growls deeply, keeping Seokjin hostage. Seokjin trembles and shakes, forgetting all about breathing until Woltron breaks eye contact. The wolf lets out a low grumble and lifts his head. He turns his side to Seokjin.

“See? You’re their friend now as well”, Jungkook says.

“What? What do you mean?”

“Woltron and his pack are old gods. They have been on this continent long before humans lived on the lands. Woltron can look into people’s hearts and see their truest truth in them. He accepted you in His pack, which means your heart is good.”

“Good?” Seokjin gasps, “and if it wasn’t good? What would he have done then?”

“It doesn’t matter. I wanted to show you this place and introduce you to Him because I knew you were good. I also passed their test when I first came here and I only passed it because I had you secretly guiding me. You kept the good in my heart, so I knew that you would pass.”

“But if I hadn’t?”

Jungkook shakes his head, “this never would have happened, but if you hadn’t then Woltron would have eaten you.”

“What?!” Seokjin squeaks, “and you didn’t tell me? Jungkook, how dare you?!”

Jungkook snickers, “I didn’t tell you because I knew that you would have been way too scared. Now climb onto Eudora’s back and let me show you one last thing.”

“You are such a trickster. You didn’t change one bit”, Seokjin murmurs and turns his back to him.

The wolf whose nose he accidentally collided with, lowers herself so Seokjin could climb onto her back.

“Hello Eudora, will you bite me?” Seokjin says quietly, taking cautious steps closer.

Eudora stays quiet, watching Seokjin with half-lidded eyes. Her eyes are emerald green just like Woltron’s.

“She won’t bite. Trust Her”, Jungkook assures him.

“Don’t talk to me. I don’t trust you anymore”, Seokjin jokes, making Jungkook laugh, “okay, I am doing it. I am getting on your back, yes?”

Eudora stays still and allows Seokjin to climb on top. Once he is safely on top, she stands up, forcing Seokjin to squeak and twist bundles of her fur.

“This is so scary”, he squeals, “I’m sorry, oh heavens, eek.”

“Calm down, you are tugging her fur”, Jungkook laughs and reaches over to caress his shoulder, “don’t be too scared. You know how to ride a horse, don’t you?”

“Yes, but this is insanity. We are on top of gigantic wolves.”

“They’re such better runners. Ready?”

“What? Runners? Jungkook, what are you planning to do?”

“I will show you my favourite place.”

“What do you mean runners? Jungkook, talk to me”, Seokjin asks nervously.

“The wolves will bring us. Don’t worry, it will feel as if you are flying”, Jungkook assures him and pets Woltron’s back, “can you takes us to the plateau, Woltron?”

The wolf straightens his head and howls. His pack answers him.

“What is happening?” Seokjin yells over their howls, looking at Jungkook.

“Hold on tight”, he says.

“What? Eeek!” Seokjin squeals and falls to the front in a desperate attempt to hug Eudora as she takes off with her pack, “this is the scariest thing I have ever done!” he screeches while beside him, Jungkook squeals and squeaks in laughter.

He looks at his little brother and how happy he looks riding the giant wolf. His dark hair catches the wind, his clothes dance in it and his face is crinkled in laughter.

“This is so much fun!” he calls out and looks at Seokjin, “sit up, trust me.”

“I hate this! Why are you doing this to me? Ju-Ju-Jungkook”, Seokjin screeches.

“Sit up, trust me”, Jungkook laughs.

Seokjin sits up even if his heart was racing in fear. The wind makes his eyes tear up instantly and messes up his hair. He feels it on his skin and smells the freedom in the air.

“This is insane! Jungkook you rascal, this is insane!”

“No, this is freedom”, Jungkook calls out and lets go of Woltron to stretch his arms far away from himself. He closes his eyes and laughs loudly.

Seokjin looks at the wolf under him. Her fur is reflecting the sunlight, glowing like ambers in a fire. He barely feels her movements, except her shifting muscles under her thick fur.

The wind is dancing around them. The world feels so vast. Seokjin doesn’t feel as if he will fall off. He lets go of her fur and stretches his arms from his own body. It feels as if he is lifting off the ground. Freedom, Jungkook called it. This is freedom.

“Hah!” Seokjin lets out and looks at Jungkook. He laughs, “I’m riding a wolf!”

“I know! Isn’t it so much fun?”

“Yes!”

Jungkook laughs and holds onto Woltron again as the wolf speeds up. Eudora follows, speeding up with Seokjin on her back. Seokjin squeaks in laughter, throwing his head back as the world passes him in blurs of colour.

The wolves take the two giggling men all the way up the Snowy Mountains. They climb the steep stones easily and while Seokjin screeched and clutched Eudora in fear, Jungkook laughed and assured him that nothing will happen to them. And he was right. Except for wobbly knees and his nerves stretched thin, Seokjin arrives atop the plateau unharmed. He slides off of Eudora, colliding with the ground as he catches his breath.

“Hey, are you alright?” Jungkook gasps, jumping off of Woltron’s back. He kneels down in front of Seokjin, touching his arms, “what’s the matter?”

“This was insanity. We just climbed a mountain”, Seokjin gets out and wheezes for air, “I think I might pass out. Did this actually happen?”

Jungkook chuckles and strokes his hand down the back of Seokjin’s head.

“You did well. I know the first time is really frightening. I thought I soiled my pants the first time my love took me here.”

“You did?” Seokjin gets out and lifts his head to look into Jungkook’s eyes.

“Yeah”, he snickers, nodding his head, “but I promise you that it is worth it.”

“I truly hope it is because I think that I might have shat myself right now.”

Jungkook laughs, “you are fine. Now come on, I need to show you”, he says and helps Seokjin to his feet.

“You will kill me one day, I am telling you. I’m too old for such adventures.”

“You are twenty and six of age, brother. You are not too old”, Jungkook laughs as he leads him to the edge of the plateau.

Seokjin stumbles back, squeezing Jungkook’s hands.

“Jungkook, you madman what are you doing?”

“Don’t be scared.”

“This is so high.”

“I know, but don’t be scared. Look. We still have five steps to take before it becomes dangerous.”

“You”, Seokjin exhales deeply, “you have always been fearless. No, I have to sit down.”

Jungkook laughs, joining him on the ground. He stretches out his legs while Seokjin sits with his legs crossed.

“You are okay, brother”, he assures him.

“I guess. Oh, you made my heart race”, Seokjin says and sighs deeply, “first you tell me that a wolf god could have eaten me, then you make me ride on top of one and climb a mountain and now this. Do you want to kill me? My heart is too weak for all of this.”

Jungkook snickers, giving Seokjin a small look before he lets his eyes drift at the view before them. The Queendom lies before their eyes. The Black Forest in the far distance, the Singing River reflecting the sunlight and the Nourishing Fields as green phantoms in the distance.

“But I must say this view makes up for it”, Seokjin says.

“Doesn’t it?” Jungkook agrees, “my love tells me that this is the whole of the Queendom and even more”, he says.

“It is?”

“Yes. Look, the green in the distance are the Nourishing Fields. The river over there is the Singing River. These are the forests of the Castle, the Life Oak and my home and back there in the distance is the Black Forest”, Jungkook explains, pointing at everything so Seokjin could see.

“Wow”, Seokjin whispers, “so this is everything.”

“Yes it is and when you look beyond the Black Forest in the really, really far distance you can see the Glass Mountains.”

“Glass Mountains?”

“Yes, Glass Mountains. They’re a foreign queendom. Their lakes are emerald coloured and all their valleys are filled with trees with ruby coloured foliage. Their Queen fell in love with her warrior and possesses healing magic”, Jungkook explains and looks at Seokjin, “like your love. She can heal with just a touch.”

“Oh. Oh, no. My love can’t heal with a touch. The queen of the Glass Mountains must be a Mender.”

“A Mender?”

“Yes, Mender. They posses magic in their blood, which they can use to heal all wounds and aches. My love needs potions and creams to heal.”

“I see. Menders. I didn’t know about them yet”, Jungkook says and sighs in contentment, “it is so wonderful to learn. We were kept so blind to the world, weren’t we?”

“We really were”, Seokjin agrees, “but we are free.”

Jungkook touches his own chest. Seokjin does the same to his’.

“We’re free”, Jungkook whispers and smiles, “and we can learn all the knowledge in the world.”

Seokjin does the same, “indeed we can.”

Jungkook lifts his hand, pointing at the Queendom.

“Where exactly is your home?”

“I don’t know. I have never seen the queendom this way”, he says, “but I think it has to be around there”, he says and points at a forest in the distance. The Singing River digs its path close to it and a small town neighbours it.

“In this town?” Jungkook asks.

“No, through this forest. There is a clearing next to the river and we have our cottage there. The forest is filled with tree fairies which like to play tricks by growing roots in front of your feet or dropping acorns on your head.”

“Really?” Jungkook snickers.

“Yes, really”, Seokjin chuckles.

“And have you ever encountered such a tree fairies before?”

“Indeed I have. One dropped snow on my head in winter and another grew a branch directly in front my face. I swallowed leaves that day.”

Jungkook laughs, leaning back as he does. Seokjin joins him. Their heartfelt laughter echoes through the whole queendom. At least it feels like that to them as they sit and overlook everything as the mountains play catch with their voices.

“Ah this is so funny”, Jungkook says and sighs.

“Indeed it is”, Seokjin agrees and exhales in contentment.

The two men dance their eyes over the endless view. And while Seokjin tries to take in everything as best as possible, Jungkook studies the area where his brother lives. It isn’t that far from the castle. He will be able to visit his brother often and in return, Seokjin can visit him as well. Jungkook feels his heart flutter in happiness at the thought.

“A cottage”, Jungkook whispers and sways from side to side as complete contentment fills his chest, “is it a nice home?”

“It is the best home I could have ever wished for. We grow flowers and herbs for our healing potions and in the warmer months, our garden is filled with vegetables and fruit we can eat”, Seokjin explains excitedly, “and we have chickens. They lay so many eggs that we can always have fresh eggs for breakfast. The river is always filled with fresh fish and sometimes we go to the market in town and buy meat, which will last us for days.”

“This sounds like a dream.”

“It is a dream. We even have a cat.”

“A cat? Really?” Jungkook gasps.

“Yes, really. His name is Kukuruz and we can talk to him.”

“What? Talk?”

“Yes, talk.”

“How?”

Seokjin lifts his arm, showing a delicate leather armband to Jungkook.

“There is a sorceress in town, who can make these animal talking bracelets and we each got one.”

“Wow”, Jungkook says, touching it gently, “and it works?”

“It does.”

“So you can understand Woltron and his pack?”

The two men look over their shoulders at the old god. He and his pack are slumbering peacefully behind them.

“No”, Seokjin turns back around, “no sadly, you can only choose one animal. We chose a cat.”

“I understand”, Jungkook looks back at the view, “it is still so amazing. I want to be able to talk to animals. I imagine that it must be so interesting.”

“I can tell you from experience that most conversation with Kukuruz are about him wanting more food.”

Jungkook laughs. Seokjin joins him.

“I see. Well, this does sound like what a cat would talk about most.”

“Yes, indeed.”

Silence replaces their laughter like sunlight replaces rain. It comes because it always follows and it feels natural. The two men looked forward to the silence like people look forward to sunlight after long rain. And as they share in the wonderful silence, they take in the views. Their world once reached to the borders of the Black Forest and not one step beyond and now they are sitting atop the Snowy Mountains, overlooking their freedom.

“Should we visit the Nourishing Fields together?” Seokjin asks.

“We could, couldn’t we?”

“We could.”

Seokjin drapes his arm over Jungkook’s shoulder. The younger man leans into him.

“Then we will.”

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myobsessionsspace · 6 months

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This is an assumption. But why do you think JK bought his property in Itaewon out of all places ? And now building a mansion there which means that will be his main house he decides to settle. I've seen all korean stars buying their homes to love with their family in more decent and high end areas like Gagnam, Hannam etc. No one really buys property in itaewon with an aim to settle there with family as it's like the party spot of SK. Itaewon is known for clubs, brothels, parties, drugs and prostitution, most only go there to party, have one night stands or do illegal activities. Someone visiting Itaewon often is eye brow raising enough so building a whole mansion there is sus af isn't it ?

Hey,

I understand tone can’t be accurately interpreted with written words, so I just want to make my tone clear first and foremost.

I’m speaking with no harshness, judgement or condescension.

DM me and we can delulu cutely together with no air of authority on the matter, cos we should know we don’t know shit, but can still want to coo and dream with others 🤗.

We’ve seen and been outraged by sasaengs and their stalking of members and called them out at times. We’ve literally seen Jungkook on live entering his apartment and being annoyed with sasaengs loitering outside of his building, he has even said in that same live that he knows people knows where he lives and posted online.

Put yourselves in their shoes, who wants millions knowing your full address and being able to turn up unannounced? Because they’re fans of your music, of your image? I’m gonna leave that there.

I will say in regards to Itaewon, I’m not Korean, I don’t have a Korean father, a Korean brother, a Korean bff who works at Hybe, nothing. I do have a friend who went on a program, studied there and lived there for years but that’s it. I don’t know anything about Itaewon apart from the Halloween tragedy and a K-Drama. So guess what I did, yup you guessed it, I GOGGLED💪

No one really buys property in itaewon with an aim to settle there with family as it's like the party spot of SK. Itaewon is known for clubs, brothels, parties, drugs and prostitution, most only go there to party, have one night stands or do illegal activities. Someone visiting Itaewon often is eye brow raising enough so building a whole mansion there is sus af isn't it ?

Incoming cheeky tone…I thought I said ‘genuine asks’? This right here sounds like laying down the groundwork to paint a certain picture of Jungkook?🤔🤨

Itaewon

You said: ‘I’ve seen all Korean stars buying their homes to live with their families in more decent high end areas like Gangnam, Hannam etc’.

I say: That’s a pretty bold, blanket statement 😬

Famous idol Rain and his actress wife and children have a home in Itaewon as do many other celebrities with their spouses, partners and families

Actor Song Joong-Ki and his British wife, who was pregnant at the time, moved to his Itaewon mansion along with her family from the UK. They welcomed a baby girl in 2023.

Chaebols like those belonging to the Samsung family also have homes in Itaewon

Doing my googles, Itaewon is known as ‘a multi-cultural commercial area located in Seoul, South Korea. It is one of the most popular neighborhoods in Seoul, known for its nightlife and trendy restaurants.’ ‘Seoul's International District’.

I know some other places that sound like the above.. London…New York…Paris…

I wonder where the prostitution, drugs and one night stands come into it for people who wanna buy or build houses in those cities?

Jungkook is currently a 26 year old multimillionaire, who is a member of one of the biggest groups in not just South Korea, but the world, so I guess he’ll have lots to do when he’s not working his ass off with his intense more than full time job. Settling somewhere with family…I’m sure he’ll take Bam into consideration in his plans, wherever it may be.

Something I did find cool when doing my googles 😁

‘Korean singer-songwriter JYP (Park Jin-young) and Yoo Se-yoon's hip hop duo UV released the song "Itaewon Freedom" in April 2011. The title alludes to (and the lyrics celebrate) a common Korean perception of Itaewon's "open atmosphere", in contrast with conventional Korean culture, which is more conservative.’

LGBTQIA+ ‘haven’ Itaewon

‘The 2020 South Korean Netflix television series Itaewon Class is set in Itaewon. The drama was praised for its diverse and inclusive cast and its realistic portrayal of subjects such as prejudice and discrimination against foreigners, ex-convicts and the LGBT people, as well as the portrayal of misbehaviors by chaebol corporations.’

Sounds like Itaewon is a cool, diverse, inclusive place, full of sites & attractions, shops and good food. If a 26+ year old man that’s been working and in the public eye since 13/14 wanted to build a home there, Itaewon sounds like a great place and a good investment.

I’d love to visit there, if I ever had the time AND money 🥲

Thanks for the ask, it caused me to learn something new!

💜

#Jungkook #Itaewon #Anonymous Asks #Jikook

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mariabtsos · 1 month

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Unsinkable ||j.jk|| - Chapter 7

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Description: The 1910s are the peak of passenger ships, it was also the peak of classism, Jungkook is a third class immigrant from Korea, and you are a first class “prisoner” not wanting to go back to a life of strict standards. Once you meet Jungkook, life seems worth living, but when tragedy strikes, will you guys make it out to live the life you planned?

Genre: One-shot, Titanic AU, poor/artist!JK x rich!f reader, angst, fluff, very slight smut, forbidden love.

Warnings: major character death, major maritime disaster, descriptions of panic, child abandonment, alcohol consumption, misunderstanding of character death, ANGST.

Word Count: 1.4k+

Oh Taehyung was in a big predicament now, he didn’t know at what point he and Jimin had been separated, but he was a nervous wreck. He was literally right behind him, when they got away from their room with Chris, when they had run into you and when you and Chris left, he was right behind him as they made it to the main deck, where the hell had he run off to now?

“JIMINIE” he screamed through the hoard of panicked passengers who were doing their best to get on the next lifeboat out of there. Taehyung wanted to find Jimin so they could do the same, maybe he’d wandered off to the area of the ship where they were letting no men board and was helping the women and children get on? Maybe he’d gone back down to help you and Chris find Jungkook? Maybe he’d gone back down all together and decided it’d be better to die at sea? Although Taehyung couldn’t possibly imagine that being something his best friend would do.

Jimin had come from humble beginnings, orphaned and left to his own devices he lived through the system until he was 18, with the little money he’d managed to save he got the first boat out of Busan to London for a fresh start, it was difficult at first, learning a new language and finding work when immigrants were looked down upon often, but Harland and Wolfe had given him a chance. He was part of the crew that had built Titanic, granted Jimin had no experience building ocean liners, but it paid the bills and his tuition at university, where he’d met Taehyung. Finding another Korean felt like a breath of fresh air, and after finding out that Taehyung’s grandfather worked for the same shipyard and was also working on the same ship, it wasn’t long before the older man took Jimin in like one of his own, sharing the small efficiency apartment he’d rented close to the shipyard. Jimin was Taehyung’s brother by all intents and purposes, he couldn’t leave him behind.

He started making his way back down to the same doorway he’d come out of just twenty minutes ago, he was going to find Jimin no matter what, they had promised to be there for each other on this journey, and if Jimin was going to die down there… Well, Taehyung had no choice but to join him.

“Jungkook-ah!” the doe-eyed man looked around, finding Jimin in the crowd of people, was he holding a baby?

“Hyung!” he ran toward him, quickly pulling him in for a hug, once they separated he noticed the man’s eyes were full of tears, “I can’t find Taehyung, we came up here together and then I saw this little one in a corner, left all alone and I couldn’t not go grab him, I couldn’t not help him, and now I can’t find him and I’m scared that we won’t find him in time,” he rambled on as more tears ran down his cheeks, Jungkook looked toward bow of the ship, the door that the fancy car you and him had been in not more than an hour ago completely submerged, if Taehyung went back down, he wouldn’t have taken long to realize there was nowhere to go anymore. “I’m sure we’ll find him hyung, he can’t have gone far,” he reassured him.

“Yeah, there’s nowhere to go,” Yoongi added, and you elbowed him pretty harshly, “horrible timing,” you simply said.

“Where were you headed anyway?” you asked the tearful man who had subconsciously started rocking the baby in his arms.

“We heard through the grapevine that the other side of the ship is letting men on the boats once all women and children have boarded, that’s when I saw him,” Jimin looked down at the infant, he was a year old at best, months old at worst, you couldn’t tell because Jimin had wrapped him in his jacket to keep him warm, all you could see was his face.

How could someone leave their child behind? Jimind said he’d been laid down on the floor, in a corner, what if the panicked crowd stepped on him? What if he was kicked and thrown in the ocean? The poor thing would die quickly and so painfully. “Let’s start heading there then,” Chris stated, going the opposite direction of the bow so they could go to the other side of the ship, you walked up to Jimin and gave his arm a reassuring squeeze, “we’ll get out of this and so will Taehyung,” he simply nodded at your words and followed you all.

The scene you found on the other side was a stark difference to where you had come from, the crowd was in a somewhat controlled chaos, with the officers trying their best to load the boats to capacity, even if a few still came up looking empty, they were nothing compared to the other ones you’d seen leave the ship.

“WOMAN AND CHILDREN FIRST,” one of them yelled, Jungkook and Yoongi pushed along, but you refused to get on until all of them could get on.

Unfortunately, that time never came. You hadn’t know how long the boat had been sinking, but the rumble underneath you was a sign that it wasn’t going to be there much longer, “Jimin you go, you have the baby, we will find you late,” Yoongi said authoritatively, the younger still looked terrified and upset, the tears had started to come back as he was urged into the boat. “Please, let Tae know when you find him how sorry I am for not telling him to wait,” Jimin hiccuped as the boat was lowered.

Jungkook turn toward you, taking off his life jacket and placing it on you, he must’ve seen the terror in your face, he cupped your cheek with his hand, rubbing it with his thumb, “just in case darling, I can handle paddling for while, I want to make sure you have extra support.” The rumbling came back just as the boat Jimin was in started to row away, Yoongi and Jungkook steadied you whilst Chris looked at the ground he’d been standing on start to rip apart, the lights flickering off entirely now, all you heard was screams, one particularly close to you.

“MOVE-” was the last thing you heard Chris yell, before you couldn’t see him anymore, you did see the sparks, realizing that the ship split in half, you felt Jungkook’s hold on you tightened as he screamed bloody murder, his best friend was gone, you brought your hand up to your mouth to drown out your own sobs. Tears poured out of his eyes furiously, Yoongi started moving you up towards the tip of the stern, “we need to find something to hold onto before this goes down!” Jungkook reluctantly followed, and now he thought of Taehyung, what if he was also killed by the ship breaking? Jimin would be inconsolable, even more so if he’d seen it happen.

However, you found Taehyung, inconsolable, holding onto the rail at the top of the stern, passing a flask to a man wearing a cook’s uniform. “Jungkook-ah!” he sounded cheerful, almost as if they weren’t in their current situation, “have you met the head baker? He’s been sharing the flask of whiskey with me,” his words were so slurred together, it took a lot of your concentration to understand what he was saying.

“Jimin was so worried about you, and you were getting drunk?” Yoongi was exasperated, was this guy serious? Taehyung’s eyes widened at the mention of his best friend. “Jimin is okay?” It felt like the world was quiet all the sudden, “I thought he died, I went down to look for him but there was too much water, and when I came back I heard a Korean passenger was shot and killed and I-”

Everyone looked at Taehyung with sorrow, “yes, he was at the main deck the whole time, he found a baby all by himself and couldn’t leave him be,” Yoongi explained, a bit less harsh this time, his voice wavered after the mention of his best friend’s death, “he was able to get on a lifeboat with the baby.” Taehyung looked down, a small hum coming from his lips, “he’s always talked about wanting to adopt you know, he wants to give his future kids everything he didn’t get,” the man who usually had a boxy smile adorning his face was all serious now, “we have to make it out, I can’t die and leave him all alone.”

Everyone was in agreement, as the stern slowly tipped up and made its final plunge, you thought it the water was getting closer way faster than you’d imagined. “Hold your breath!” was the last thing you heard someone say before you were pulled underwater.

#bts fanfic #bts #bts au #jeon jungkook #jungkook au #jungkook x reader #jungkook fanfic #jungkook angst

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arxims · 5 months

Text

𝐌𝐎𝐎𝐍𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐔𝐂𝐊 ᵀᴴᴿᴱᴱ

Returning to Seoul was a decision that you finally ended up in , given that it was the place where you spent your past years. Leaving your messed up past behind, you made the conscious choice to return to Seoul in order to breathe new life into your existence. Little did you know that this decision would change your life. For the good or bad. As you reconnected with an old friend from your past, you were introduced to his younger brother, whose presence became far more significant in your life in a twisted way than you thought.

Pairing : jungkook x reader

genre/au : a lot of angst, smut, killer!Jungkook, non idol au, violence.

Warnings : graphic depiction of violence and gore, lots of blood, mentions of rape, smut, sexual activity, toxic Jungkook, red flag Jungkook, psychopathic behavior red flag behavior, mentally disturbed characters, suicide, murder, depictions of torture, serial killing, lots of trauma, depression, criminal behavior, murderous tenancies, possible major character death, mentions child abuse and child pornography, unprotected sex, cumming, teasing, commitment issues.

Rating : only suitable for mature readers

Word count : 5.5 k

| MASTERLIST |

"Why the sudden urge to quit, huh? Seems like a rash move to me," Yoongi quipped, pushing the resignation paper across the fancy desk towards the blond guy in front of him. Jimin let out a sigh, meeting Yoongi's gaze. "I've had it, Hyung. I want a normal life. A cozy apartment, a regular job that doesn't involve guns and gore. Maybe a girlfriend, marriage, kids - the whole shebang. That's the dream, Hyung. I'm out," he said, twirling the pen in his hand before gripping it tightly.

Yoongi leaned back, looking thoughtful. "Hey, it's your call, Jimin. I just want what's best for you. But hey, if you ever change your mind, the top spy spot will always have your name on it," he said, giving Jimin a knowing smile. Jimin grinned back, but deep down, he knew he was losing a top-notch spy. Yoongi could see it - Jimin was ready to leave the spy life behind.

As Jimin hesitantly signed the resignation letter, a wave of conflicting emotions washed over him. It felt as though he was betraying Yoongi, his steadfast companion through thick and thin. Despite Yoongi's belief that it was for the best, allowing Jimin to forge a new path towards a semblance of normalcy, Jimin couldn't shake the feeling of abandoning the one who had been his guiding light.

Born into an abusive family, his early years were marred by tragedy and cruelty. At the tender age of six, he lost his biological father to cancer, only to have his mother remarry a callous drunkard who harbored an animosity towards Jimin. Enduring verbal, physical, and emotional abuse from his stepfather who lacked mercy, Jimin led his fucked up life until the very teenage. Despite the torment he endured, Jimin's mother remained silent, complicit in the suffering inflicted upon her own child.

Growing up in the oppressive environment of his abusive household took a heavy toll on him. Each day became more unbearable for Jimin until one fateful moment, at his 15, when he reached his breaking point. In a desperate act of self-defense, he found himself in a harrowing situation where he had no choice but to defend himself by stabbing his father multiple times. Overwhelmed by fear of the consequences that awaited him, he made a decision that would alter the course of his life forever.

With nothing but a few meager possessions to his name, Jimin made the difficult choice to leave behind his hometown of Busan and run away to Seoul. Arriving in the bustling city, he found himself without a place to call home, no family to turn to, and faced the harsh reality of severe food deprivation. Hunger gnawed at his stomach, driving him to scavenge for scraps in dumpsters just to survive. It was in these dire circumstances that Jimin realized that the only way to sustain himself was through theft.

Embracing his newfound role as a local street pickpocket, Jimin honed his skills with each passing day. As he made a habit of targeting normal pedestrians, he became a professional at it. That's when he set his sights on a young man in his, probably eighteen, assuming him to be an easy target. However, his attempt to steal the man's wallet swiftly went to vain when the man whose keen perception and quick reflexes caught Jimin off guard. The encounter served as a stark reminder that not everyone was as oblivious as he had assumed.

Instead of immediately turning Jimin over to the authorities, he made a conscious decision to delve deeper into Jimin's background. He took the time to understand Jimin's troubled past and empathized with his struggles. Min Yoongi felt compelled to extend a helping hand to the vulnerable teenager. He went above and beyond to secure a safe haven for Jimin, enrolling him in a local school and providing him with a place he could finally call home. What else can a simple delivery man could do?

Before leaving for his military service, Yoongi made a final visit to Jimin, leaving a lasting impression on the young man. When Jimin eventually reunited with Yoongi after his military service, he was met with a transformed individual driven by a deep determined decision. Yoongi was determined of establishing an organization dedicated to eliminate criminal activities - the clandestine Black Ops Syndicate.

Recognizing Jimin's adeptness at thievery, Yoongi saw beyond his past activities, and envisioned a skilled spy in the making. With his charming demeanor and persuasive skills, Jimin possessed the ability to seamlessly blend in with his surroundings, and make it impossible for others to pinpoint him bring the red imposter among them. It made him an invaluable asset to the organization as the clandestine organization grew successful in dismantling criminal networks from within.

Jimin had been a steadfast presence since the early days when Black Ops was nothing more than scattered remnants of a covert operation. Departing from the organization left him grappling with feelings of betrayal, a weight he carried heavily on his shoulders.

In the aftermath of his departure from Black Ops, Jimin started on building a new life for himself. Despite the distance, he maintained regular contact with Yoongi, making a point to visit him often. Then he stumbled upon an opportunity at Kang Industries, a chance he saw as a promising new chapter.

Little did Jimin realize that his decision to join Kang Industries would serve as a fateful turning point, leading him back to a very world he stepped himself out.

The car eventually came to a halt in front of Jungkook's personal apartment, its tires rolling slowly as it made its way into the garage that was directly connected to the basement of the building. The clock was nearing 1 am, the late hour casting a shadow over the scene. Jungkook stood by, waiting patiently for the car to settle in its designated spot in the garage. His hands were tucked into the pockets of his black sweatpants, the hood of his attire pulled up, giving him the appearance of a stereotypical hacker.

"You've early than I thought," Jungkook remarked casually, his attention fixed on the driver whose identity remained a mystery to him at that moment. All he knew was that he was engaged in conversation with someone. Suddenly, Jimin emerged from the vehicle, still clad in his work attire, a sight that elicited a surprised expression from Jungkook.

"Jimin?" Jungkook exclaimed, his steps quickening as he made his way towards the car door where Jimin stood. A soft chuckle escaped Jimin's lips in response to Jungkook's reaction.

"I thought you left Black Ops. Done with all the gore," Jungkook inquired, his curiosity piqued as he arched an eyebrow in Jimin's direction. "Indeed, I did," Jimin replied with a hint of bitterness in his tone, leaning casually against the car. "I spent three good years away, only to realize that I was working under these assholes who can't keep it inside their pants around children" he added, his words laced with a touch of frustration.

Jungkook's eyes widened in surprise as he exclaimed, "Wait, you worked with Kangs?" The sudden revelation caught Jungkook off guard, a question mark forming in his mind. "Yeah," Jimin continued, "(Y/N) mentioned you. Seems like you've finally settled down with a girl, huh? I appreciate it." Leaning in closer, Jimin raised his eyebrows expectantly. Jungkook responded with a cold stare, their relationship hovering at a solid 5.5 on the closeness scale of one to ten. "Where's the target?" Jungkook inquired with a huff.

A proud expression adorned Jimin's face, silently boasting, 'I've still got it after three years of radio silence.' He popped open the trunk of the car, his gaze fixed on the man in black. Inside the trunk lay an unconscious figure, bound and squeezed into the confined space. "I could've just ended it with a bullet to his head, but Yoongi insisted I only needed to drop him off here. So…”

Jungkook, with an effortless grace, as natural as plucking a dry leaf from a tree, picked his victim. Without uttering a single word, he proceeded to lead the way to the basement, his movements purposeful and silent. Jimin observed his companion's sturdy figure as he casually remarked, "The sooner he meets his end, the more easy it'll be for him," eliciting a chuckle from Jungkook in response.

Oh little Kang. You're gonna pay.

You woke up with a satisfied smile, the duvets pooled around your naked form. Memories of Jungkook's talented mouth and hands all over your body the night before made you shiver with delight. You slipped on his dress shirt, buttons hanging open, and followed the tantalizing scent of cooking breakfast to the kitchen.

There was Jungkook, shirtless with those tempting abs on display as he flipped pancakes. You snaked your arms around his toned torso from behind, placing soft kisses along his shoulder blades.

"Mmm, good morning handsome," you purred.

Jungkook turned with a wolfish grin. "Well, if it isn't the gorgeous who had your wicked way with me last night." His voice dropped an octave. "I can still feel those perfect lips all over me."

You simply snuggled into him more, bathing in his warmth.

"Maybe you need a reminder of how insatiable you are." He remarked with a chuckled.

You bit your lip coyly as he ground his hips against you . "Is that a promise, Mr. Jeon?" You traced his defined abs teasingly.

"Count on it, baby." Jungkook turned around cupped your face for a searing kiss. "Now eat up...you'll need your energy for what I have planned.” but your hand had already found its way into his pants.

You felt goosebumps rise as Jungkook's low growl left him "You're just begging for trouble this morning, aren't you...my delicious little temptress?"

"Maybe I am..." you purred, nipping at his earlobe. "Are you going to punish me, Mr. Jeon?"

Jungkook growled low in his throat, gripping Your thighs and lifting you up to wrap your legs around his waist. He pinned you against the kitchen counter, that wicked smirk playing on his lips.

"Oh, you'll get what's coming to you, believe me." His husky voice was pure sin against your neck. "But first...breakfast for my feisty little wildcat."

Stealing another scorching kiss, Jungkook then slid you back down to your feet with tantalizing slowness. He turned to plate up the pancakes, purposely flexing those back muscles you had raked your nails over countless times before.

"Start eating, baby girl. You're gonna need that energy..."

You felt a shiver of delicious anticipation course through you at the ravenous look in Jungkook's eyes as he handed you the plate.

You made a show of unbuttoning Jungkook's shirt a little further as you sat at the kitchen island. you knew he loved when you wore his clothes after lovemaking.

"Thanks for breakfast, hot stuff," you purred, cutting into the fluffy pancakes. "Though I seem to have worked up quite the appetite last night..."

You made sure to lock eyes with him as you slowly dragged your tongue along your lips to catch a stray droplet of syrup. Jungkook's intense gaze followed the movement, pupils dilating.

"You're playing with fire, kitten," he rumbled deeply, stalking around the island to lean in close behind you . His muscular arms caged your in as he nuzzled your neck hotly. "You know what happens when you tease me like that."

You shivered at his warm breath fanning your skin. "Maybe I want to get burned..."

you reached a hand back to rake through his tousled bedhead, eliciting a low groan from Jungkook. His hands smoothed up your thighs under the shirt as he placed wet, open-mouthed kisses along your shoulder.

"In that case, let me start stoking those flames, baby..."

You gasped as he crashed his lips to get you in a searing, all-consuming kiss. you clung to his sculpted back as the kiss quickly turned molten and needy…

Jungkook's hands roamed eagerly over your body as the kisses grew more fervent. the tantalizing swell of your breasts pressing against his bare chest.

With a low growl, he gripped under your thighs and lifted you up onto the kitchen counter in one fluid motion. you gasped at the sudden dominance, legs instantly winding around his narrow waist.

"You're playing a dangerous game this morning, kitten," Jungkook husked out, nipping along the column of your throat. His large hands kneaded the soft flesh of your thighs teasingly. "I don't know if I can hold back..."

you whimpered at the hot promise in his words, raking your nails down his chiseled back. "Then don't..."

That seemed to snap the last thread of Jungkook's restraint. With a primal growl, he captured your shoulder in a bruising kiss, tongue delving past your shoulders to your breasts taste every inch of your skin.

you arched shamelessly into him, the hard planes of your bodies melting together. you tugged at Jungkook's sweatpants impatiently until he kicked them off, leaving him deliciously naked before you .

"God, you're gorgeous..." you breathed, drinking in the sight of his powerful form. One of your hands drifted tantalizingly down his rigid abdomen. "Take me right here, Jungkookie..."

With a smirk, Jungkook hooked his fingers into the waistband of your panties and tugged them down your legs torturously slowly.

"As you wish, my greedy little wildcat..."

With a devilish glint in his eyes, Jungkook stepped between your parted thighs, trailing scorching kisses along your neck and collarbone. You shudderes at the erotic sensation of his hardened length pressed against your bare center.

"You've been such a naughty girl this morning," he growled against your skin, making you whimper. "Teasing me like that...you know what happens to brats who can't behave, don't you?"

You bit your lip and nodded shakily as Jungkook's hands roamed over the curves of your body hungrily. He tugged open his shirt that you're wearing, finally baring you fully to his smoldering gaze.

"That's my good girl..." He rumbled in approval. You flushed at the dark promise in his eyes as he takes in every inch of you.

Leaning in, Jungkook captured your lips in a bruising kiss that has you melting into him instantly. His tongue plundered your mouth skillfully while calloused hands kneaded and squeezed your breasts. You mewled into the kiss when his thumb over your peaked nipples teasingly.

Jungkook chuckled darkly at the desperate noises escaping you. "You're so wound up already, kitten...and we've barely started."

With one swift movement, he gripped under your thighs and tugged you flush against his powerful body, making you cry out at the delicious friction. Wrapping your legs around his narrow waist, you grinded shamelessly against his thick length.

"Please, Jungkookie..." You begged desperately. "I need you..."

A sinful smirk danced across Jungkook's lips as your breathy whimpers filled the kitchen. His large hands mapped scorching paths up the sensitive skin of your inner thighs, thumbs brushing maddeningly close to your slick folds.

"Such desperation in those pretty eyes," he murmured huskily. "Does my gorgeous temptress yearn for me that badly?"

You shuddered at his rich timbre, frantically nodding in affirmation. The shirt you were wearing - his from last night - hung open indecently, allowing his heated gaze to roam freely.

"Use that sinful mouth, angel..." Jungkook commanded silkily. "Articulate those filthy desires for me."

Biting your lip, you forced the words out in a trembling whine. "Please, Koo...I ache for you”

A satisfied growl rumbled from deep in his chest at your wanton plea.

"Such honeyed, provocative words from my sweet temptation's lips..." He nipped at the sensitive skin just below your ear. "

You cry out as Jungkook's large hands finally cup your bare breasts, thumbing over the peaked buds. Your nails dragged down the taut muscles of his back insistently.

With a dark chuckle, he rolled his hips in one fluid grind, allowing the velvety head of his length to tease your dripping entrance ever so slightly. You both groaned at the contact, hot and heady.

But just when you were certain he'll finally push forward and impale you on that glorious cock...Jungkook stilled. Your desperate whine was silenced by the rough pad of his thumb brushing your parted lips.

"Patience, my sweet seductress," he husked out, leaning back to take in your debauched appearance with hooded, smoldering eyes.

"Good girls learn to practice a little patience..."

You whined loudly in protest as he abruptly pulls away, leaving you naked and keening on the kitchen counter. The denial is sweet torture.

"No no, enough of those pretty noises." Jungkook tuted again, bending to retrieve his sweatpants from the floor. "I'm going for a run. Don't go anywhere..."

With a wink and a shameless squeeze of your ass, he turned on his heel and strided out, leaving you a whimpering, frustrated mess on the cold countertop….

It took you a moment to come back from cloud nine as you remembered something.

“ Kook, there's something.. “

He paused in the doorway, turned to fix you with an intense look over his bare shoulder. One brow arched as he slowly raked his heated gaze over your tantalizing form, still deliciously splayed and on display across the countertop.

"Oh?" His tone is a rich rumble of amusement and restrained desire. "And what piece of information does my gorgeous little temptress have for me?"

He stalked back over, movements fluid and predatory. Caging you in with his arms, He leaned down to graze his lips torturously along the feverish skin of your neck and jaw. You whimper softly, trapped between the hard planes of his body and the unforgiving countertop.

“It's important” You looked up at his eyes

"Out with it, kitten," He murmured huskily against your racing pulse point"You know how I hate being kept waiting for what I want..."

On the other hand, you were caught between how you would put forward what you wanna tell him, between the pleasure he was injecting into you.

His large hand smoothed up your thigh possessively, fingertips brushing along the juncture where your leg meets torso. He grinned wickedly at the full-body shudder that wracks your trembling form.

“My parents. They wanna meet you. As my boyfriend. You know. To make things.. Official” You bit your lip, waiting for his reply

"Your parents, hm?" He drawled out in that low, gravelly timbre you found so irresistible. "Is that what's got you so worked up this morning, angel? Eager to parade me around like some pretty little trophy boyfriend?"

“Uh no that's not ahh”You were cut off by his dirty actions.

Slowly, Purposefully, his fingers deftly flicked open another button of the - allowing it to gape further and put your gorgeous breasts on display.

"You know how I feel about labels, kitten..." He murmured, dipping his head to trail open-mouthed kisses along the swell of your chest. "Why get so hung up on concepts like 'meeting the parents' when we could be exploring so many other delicious... activities?"

He punctuated the last word with a firm roll of his hips, letting you feel every thick, insistent inch of his arousal grind against your bare center. Your strangled whimper was music to his ears.

“Jungkook.. I.. Fuck”..

Looking back up at you through hooded lids, He flashed a slow, filthy smirk. "Unless...you'd rather spend the morning debating relationship formalities instead of having me bury my throbbing cock into that greedy little pussy and fuck you senseless?"

His words left you breathless, gasping for his touch.

With a teasing nip to the underside of your breast, He pulled back just enough to meet your lust-blown gaze, one brow arched expectantly.

"Well, princess? What'll it be?"

“Jungkook.. I just wanna make things sorted out. What's wrong with it?” You let out a whine. Yes you are selfish and you'll accept that you're selfish for wanting Jungkook all by yourself.

"Always with the relationship talks..." He chided, mild exasperation tinged his deep voice. "Can't you just live in the moment for once, baby girl? Bask in this delicious connection we've got instead of trying to stamp labels all over it?"

Reaching out, He hooked a finger under your chin and tilted your face up, holding your wide, pleading gaze with a look of dark intensity.

"You know how I feel about being tied down," He rumbled silkily. "Getting tangled up in terms like 'official' and 'exclusive'...that's not my style, temptress. You should know that by now."

“Nothing is tieing you down. Kook. I just want you by myself”

His other hand smoothed along your thigh in a firm, possessive caress. He grinned at the shiver it elicited from you.

"But I'm not going anywhere, kitten. You and I..." He dipped down to ghost his lips across the racing pulse in your throat. "We've got something electric here, don't we? A special knot that ties us together far more divinely than any mere official label ever could." His fingers lingered on your nipples.

As you were left speechless, slowly agreeing to his words. But still. You wanted him to be more than your boyfriend.

Leaning in, He captured your lips in a toe-curling kiss, swallowing your whimpered protests. His tongue plundered your mouth with deep, filthy strokes until you were melting against him.

Eventually, he tore himself away, leaving you dazed and panting. He smirked at the dark, wanting look, in your eyes as he slowly straightened.

"So how about we table all that commitment talk for now, gorgeous?" he drawled, shooting you a heated wink. "Just keep being my little wildcat in the bedroom...and I'll make sure you never want for pleasure or attention outside of it."

Giving your inner thigh a final, lingering squeeze, he turned and started backing towards the doorway once more.

"Think about it while I'm out on my run, yeah? And be a good girl.."

The world is left in a state of utter devastation as the news unfolded before their eyes. “The co-founder and esteemed CEO of the prestigious Kang Industries, Kang Hajoon, who had mysteriously disappeared three days prior, was tragically discovered deceased. His lifeless body was unceremoniously discarded in a local dumpster, a grim and unsettling sight. The post-mortem examination revealed harrowing details of the heinous torture inflicted upon the victim, with the methods employed ominously pointing to a notorious figure known as The Shadow Reaper. The question loomed heavily in the air - was this the resurgence of the very killer who once held the entire city of Seoul in the grip of fear? And if so, the lingering mystery remained: where had they been for the past seven months?” The woman on the television screen delivered the distressing news as You, Jungkook, and Taehyung sat in stunned silence on the sofa, absorbing the shocking revelation. As the realization sank in, disbelief washed over You, for the name and image flashing on the screen belonged to none other than your boss, Hajoon.

With a sense of disbelief, You blinked twice, hoping against hope that it was all a terrible mistake.

This simply could not be happening.

"That name sends shivers down my spine, always," you whispered, your breath trembling. The mere mention of The Shadow Reaper was enough to evoke fear in anyone's heart. Taehyung sat beside you, his forehead glistening with a cold sweat, looking at you who was unaware that the very Shadow Reaper was seated next to him, his arm casually draped around you.

"He only goes after criminals, Kitten. You're safe," Jungkook reassured you in a calm, unaffected tone. He was certain that his little kitten was out of harm's way. She was the most precious person to him, and he would protect her at all costs. "The situation at the office must be chaotic," you remarked with a tinge of concern. Despite everything, at least the office provided for you. You glanced at Jungkook, a hint of sadness reflecting in your eyes. After all, he was your boss.

Jungkook immediately sensed the sorrow hidden behind your gaze, knowing all too well that the despicable Shadow Reaper didn't deserve to be the cause of your distress. "It's alright, Baby," he murmured, planting a gentle kiss on your forehead. The only solace he found in this situation was that now it would be easier to persuade you to resign.

“His testicles were mutilated. Along with his right thumb. His nipples were cut off as well”

The doctor carefully detailed the gruesome findings to the older Kang, Kang Seojoon, who stood in shock as he gazed at the lifeless form of his younger brother. Despite his stoic expression, a fiery determination burned in his eyes, fueled by a desire for retribution against those responsible for his brother's tragic fate.

"Mr. Kang?'' The. Coroner's voice broke through Seojoon's intense focus on Hajoon's battered face, revealing the extent of the brutality inflicted upon him.

"The most troubling aspect is... it's quite disturbing," the doctor hesitated before continuing, "We discovered shards of glass embedded in his body. It appears that a glass bottle was forcibly inserted into his anus and shattered internally, causing severe lacerations and internal bleeding. His eyes have been corroded by sulfuric acid. Furthermore, traces of his own vomit were found in his lungs. The numerous skin infections are a result of urine being injected into his veins”, Ahorrifying detail that points to the victim being the source of this vile act.

Seojoon couldn't bear to listen to the news. The brutal way his brother had met his end haunted him. Despite the questionable dealings his brother had been involved in, Seojoon harbored a deep love for Hajoon, a love that even surpassed his feelings for his own parents.

As he gazed at his brother's lifeless form, with closed eyes and in a pitiful, agonizing state, Seojoon made a silent vow. He swore to himself that whoever was responsible for this heinous act would face the consequences, even if it meant ripping out the mask of identity of the notorious Shadow Reaper.

"Sir, the funeral arrangements are ready," Jimin announced as he entered the room. Seojoon simply nodded in response before abruptly leaving the room. Jimin's gaze lingered on his deceased former boss, a look of pure hate and disgust evident in his eyes. Jungkook did what he promised. ‘If only he hadn't been so consumed by greed, he might have lived a little longer,’ Jimin thought quietly to himself, reflecting on the lives that had been destroyed by the asshole lying in front of him.

For all the lives he destroyed.

"Let's not beat around the bush. Why are you here?”

Yeonjun, sat with an air of mystery enveloping him. Leaning on the desk, his fingers intertwined, he cut straight to the chase, “I want to know who this shadow Reaper is." the words rolled off Seojoon’s tongue. He despised that name

Yeonjun Choi's name resonated within the shadowy corners of Seoul's underworld. Not a mobster, nor a criminal, he operated in a different realm - that of information. His expertise lay in selling secrets so obscure that even the divine would be in the dark. Each piece of information came at a steep price, a testament to its value. Yeonjun took pride in his unique skill set, knowing he was unrivaled in his trade.

Yeonjun's past was marred by a childhood spent as a lab subject, a period he would rather forget. Endless experiments had molded his mind, unlocking latent psychic abilities that intrigued even the most scientists. Fourteen years of Yeonjun had yielded the gift, the emergence of his psychic senses - clairvoyance. With these powers, he had managed to slip away from the lab's clutches, disappearing into the shadows where he found solace.

In due time, he came to the realization that his unique skills could be monetized. It was within the clandestine world of crime that he carved out a reputation as the go-to individual for valuable information, a name whispered among criminals and gangsters alike. Through these interactions, he grew accustomed to their ways.

"Aha... I was beginning to wonder when someone would inquire about Shadow Reaper. Here you are. Seeking justice for your brother?" Yeonjun rose from his seat, making his way over to Seo Joon. "How unfortunate. Such a cruel fate," Yeonjun remarked with a dry chuckle.

Seo Joon met his gaze with a steely glare. The callous laughter at his brother's tragic demise did not escape his notice. "Just drop the name and wait for the news," he uttered with a palpable undercurrent of vengeance in his tone.

Yeonjun's eyes gleamed with a hint of mischief as he leaned in closer to Seojoon, his voice lowering an octave to add an air of secrecy to their conversation. The dimly lit room seemed to amplify the intensity of the moment as Seojoon met Yeonjun's gaze, a silent understanding passing between them. It was as if Yeonjun could read Seojoon's thoughts with just a single glance, knowing that the deal was as good as sealed.

After a brief pause, Seojoon spoke up, his tone confident and unwavering. "Ten million, all in white. Do we have a deal?" The words hung in the air, the weight of their agreement settling between them.

Yeonjun's expression turned serious as he issued a subtle warning, reminding Seo Joon of the repercussions of reneging on their arrangement.” You know what happens to people who don't pay my reward after information. You won't be sleeping” A threatening warn escaped him

Seojoon, true to his principles, squared his shoulders in response, a silent affirmation of his commitment to honor their deal. "The name," he stated simply, a sense of finality in his voice as the terms of their agreement were set in motion.

Yeonjun didn't hesitate a bit before speaking, his voice barely above a growl . "I'm not sure if you're familiar with him. He's not exactly a household name. Jeon Jungkook. Renowned as one of the most skilled criminal lawyers in the city of Seoul," he murmured, the mere mention of Jungkook's name causing a chill to run down his spine.

Seojoon's frustration boiled over as he retorted, "Do you take me for a fool, Yeonjun? Jungkook is a criminal defense attorney with a flawless record, even saving my friend from conviction. And now, the Shadow Reaper is targeting criminals. How on earth does that make any sense?" Only Yeonjun held the key to the enigmatic Jungkook's true nature.

With a sharp edge to his voice, Yeonjun countered, "And where is your friend now? Another tragic victim of the Shadow Reaper's ruthless killings. Don't be naive, Seojoon. Piece it together. Yes, Jungkook is indeed exceptional at what he does. He shields criminals from the law's grasp only to ensnare them in his own intricate web. That's his modus operandi," he spat out bitterly.

As the pieces of the puzzle slowly fell into place in Seojoon's mind, a dawning realization took hold. It all began to make terrifying sense. Jeon Jungkook, the master manipulator. Your days are numbered.

“ But why target him?” Yeonjun, with a thoughtful expression on his face, pondered the situation at hand. Leaning casually on his table, he spoke in a calm yet authoritative tone, "I'm not one to dish out advice, but this dude is no walk in the park. He's got some serious firepower up in here” Yeonjun remarked, pointing to his own head for emphasis.” One little cunning bastard who could make anyone belive that sun rises in the west”

"If you want to defeat his foreseeing ass, you must target his vulnerabilities. Understand that he don't hold of any apparent physical or mental weaknesses" Yeonjun explained sagely.

Seojoon, intrigued by Yeonjun's words, turned to face him and said. “How can we make him feel the burn, make him regret his life choices?”

A sly grin crept across Yeonjun's face as he revealed his sinister plan,”He snatched your loved one, right? Well, snatch what's dear to him. This guy's all about his close-knit crew and attachments. There's that one special someone he can't bear to lose. cherishes above all else, one whose absence would shatter him," Yeonjun hinted, his smile growing more malevolent by the moment.

Seojoon, fueled by a desire for vengeance, was willing to go to any lengths to make Jungkook pay for his transgressions, even if it meant resorting to drastic measures such as taking innocent lives. Yeonjun's grin widened as he insinuated, “I think you already know the very name”

I know this chapter was shorter than usual. Since moonstruck chapters usually hold over 8k words and it's barely 6k here. I'm sorry that I can't write much. Also the story might end in five or six chapters.

I know, the Jungkook (Y/N) part is so cliché and cringe, I'm sorry it's needed for character understanding. I should've skipped that part. But... Hope yall enjoy, the cringiest one ever. Don't forget to drop your opinions and suggestions about the story in comment box or ask box. I'm more than happy to read the comments though I rarely get them, it keeps me going. I honestly thought about putting moonstruck in hiatus. But it's glad to know that some are waiting for new chapters. Love you allll

ᴛᴀɢʟɪsᴛ : @looneybleus @ttanniett

#jungkook fanfic #jungkook fic #jungkook #bts fic #fanfic #jungkook x reader #bts #bts fanfiction #fanfiction #x yn #jungkook smut #jungkook angst #jungkook fiction #blackpink #jennie #yoongi #min yoongi #jimin #park jimin

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alphabetboyluvr · 1 year

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THROTTLE - JJK | EIGHT

one/ two / three / four / five / six / seven / eight / nine / ten / eleven

warnings - welcome one and all to the chapters that made some of my wattpad girlies stop reading throttle, you have been warned! mentions of drugs. jungkook wears a key around his neck and it ain't for a door! solo masturbation (m). enter stage left: cc @ yoongi's door. infidelity (boo), dry humping (yay), yoongi has a choking kink (?), he cums in his pants <3 back for round two! not all that explicit, oral (f), he's so talkative <3, protected sex, incredibly sombre aftermath!! v satisfying end to the chapter IMO!!

word count - 16.5k

minors dni // series masterlist

It surprises everyone when Jungkook is the first to speak. He stands, shoulders broadening like a fallen angel unfolding its wings, and then he's back.

The man you once knew? It's undeniably him. He's still just as powerful in his stature as he always was, just as handsome, just as life-threateningly attractive.

For a second - only a moment, barely even a millisecond - you let yourself indulge in the chime your stomach has been subduing.

It's just the same as it always has been.

He's different now, though. So vastly different, you question whether or not you would have recognised him in the street.

His hair is dark, and it doesn't frame his face in the way it used to. Shame. You used to love getting your fingers tangled in it. It's pushed back now, the fury in his dark brows as clear as day. They're missing a piercing, which you'll admit is a bitter loss, but the lip ring is still there, at least.

You don't let yourself think about the one on his tongue. Haven't thought about it for weeks. Months.

Only because every time you do, you force yourself to think about roadkill instead. It's the only way you can get it out of your head. Does now mean that when you see roadkill, you think about him. Fitting, really, given the tragedy of your time spent together.

Instead of letting him know just how fucked up he still gets you, you simply raise a brow in his direction. Your back sinks into the chair you've poised yourself on, and you cross your arms, imploring him to speak the fuck up.

Part of him doesn't want to, just as 'fuck you' to your prissy rich bitch attitude. He'd forgotten about this; how much a little cunt you'd been when the pair of you had first met. Back then, it had gotten his interest piqued. Kept him coming back for more. Was the thing that got him cumming, full stop.

But now, it just feels vindictive.

And so he decides to be just as much of a vindictive swine back.

"No one's been looking for you," he says as his eyes burn into you - and yet you remain perfectly cool. Calm. Unaffected.

There was a time, a few moons ago, when a look like this from Jungkook would have surely killed you. Now, it's just all very laughable.

"Eunhee's never been much of a liar, Jungkook," you smile, glad to have checked in with her before heading to the boxing club. Maybe he did stop showing up at your door two months ago, but it was enough of a weapon to use against him.

"That senile old bat?" He laughs, and you remember just how mean he could be. It's a trait that you'd pushed to the side in your memories, all rose-tinted and sweet. The reality makes those memories a lot easier to swallow, the salt from his words diluting the sugar. "Wouldn't take her as a credible source."

The air around the pair of you is stale; unpleasant. It reeks of desperation. Desperate for what? It's debatable. Nothing good, that's for sure.

Quite literally everyone in the room is uncomfortable.

Everyone except for the pair of you.

See, this is a back and forth you've perfected. The way you bicker - the way you taunt one another - used to be foreplay. He'd rile you up just ruin you.

It's electric. Jungkook wonders what has more volts - your shared energy, or the taser he's pretty sure you've got hidden in your bag. You're too smart to come somewhere like this completely defenceless.

He's just as smart as you, though. Reads your moves, and knows exactly what to predict. Maybe it's not a form of intelligence that will do any good, but he's spent so long studying you that it would be impossible for him to not be an expert by this point.

He could write an encyclopedia about you; a dictionary based on your vocabulary.

He'd file himself under 'asshole', and would hope you'd reassign him to 'inamorato'. You wouldn't. If anything, you'd place him in a pile of discards; words unused by you for so long that you've forgotten their significance in your life.

If he were to have his own dictionary, he'd file you under cocotte. CC for short. But he'd draw fucking hearts in the margins, and crack the spine from just how often he looked at your page. Might just rip it out and keep it in his wallet like a passport photo.

"Credible source?" You smirk, ruby red lips pouting in a way that feels new to him. They're slightly different, he thinks. The shape is the same, but they seem poutier. The product of fillers, maybe. He never thought you'd be one to go down that route, but he's questioning everything he knew about you as the lights of the club reflect in the diamond on your finger. He's blinded by it; blindsided by you. "Surely this isn't Jeon Jungkook talking about credibility? About trust? That'd be a first."

"Watch your fuckin' mouth," he snaps, and it's clear you've hit a nerve. Good. "Got shit to say? Say it, then get fuckin' gone, C."

And, oh, it's painful. So gloriously painful.

The way you don't falter is the worst part. The name given to you in the sanctuary of his car lingers on his tongue, his lips ajar. There's no crease between his brow, eyes just as round and inviting as they always had been.

You think he's baiting you. Think he's trying to get your defences down. You don't realise that his defences actually are - not until he knocks his head to the side, flicking a switch as his glare returns.

"I think what Jungkook is trying to say," Jin speaks up, knowing that there'll be no resolution without a mediator. He can feel the energy between the pair of you. The vibrations run deep and jagged, stained in red and echoing regret. "Is that we aren't aware there was business to discuss?"

You turn to face Jin, but let your eyes linger on Jungkook for just a second longer before you address his friend. Handsome, you think. Incredibly handsome, in fact.

You've always thought Jungkook was the most beautiful thing about Daegu, but you might change your mind. All you need is this new guy - the one with plump lips and shoulders that eclipse Jungkook's - to glare at you. See if it gets you searing under the collar, hot between your legs, like Jungkook's glare does.

Many men before have looked at you with suspended disbelief, agitation curving around their brow bones. It's nothing new. The way that Jungkook's glare could have gotten you on your knees? That was new to you.

"Nor was I - or at least, I wasn't. Not until Jungkook told me about that little plan of yours a few months ago," you say as you smile at Jin, all pleasant and performative."But I'm very selective about who I invest my time in."

You don't have to look at Jungkook for him to know that he should take your next statement personally.

"I've no time for little boys running around playing cops and robbers. I conduct my business exactly like that; like a business. I make negotiations, I make deals. Sign contracts - and I'd never hire someone without running a background check. Can get yourself into a whole world of trouble if you don't know who someone really is."

"You're planning on employing us?" Namjoon pipes up, the prospect of a hefty payday sounding like music to his ears.

"Not employing," you say. There's more you could divulge. So much more. But it's time for baby steps, now. No use in getting ahead of yourselves. "Think of it more like... entering a partnership. A mutually beneficial agreement."

"Your appearance on TV today," Jin says, the most analytical of the bunch, trying to figure you out. "How would that help to aid your negotiations?"

You smile. It's quite simple, really.

"That was to stop you from thinking you could ever fucking touch me."

There's more venom than you intend there to be behind your words, but you haven't quite healed from the last invasion of your autonomy. You're still disgusted but how easily you were manipulated into thinking that Jungkook ever gave a fuck about you. If they think they're ever getting the chance of getting that close again, they're sorely mistaken.

"The world is watching boys," You continue. "One wrong move, and the world will be asking: what happened to her? It's my way to keep you in check. Anyways, let's not get ahead of ourselves. Who do you work for?"

"Who do you work for?" Jungkook spits back.

"Myself. Answer my question."

Jin takes the reins from Jungkook. "We're not at liberty to say."

"Fine," you shrug, getting to your feet. You're here to talk with men, not boys. If they can't make decisions for themselves, then what's the point? "I'll be on my way then. Time is money boys, and if you aren't willing to give me a dime, then it's not worth it for me. I don't need you."

"Yeah, well, if you don't need us, then why the fuck are you here?"

The way Jungkook's nostrils flare amuses you. Let's you know the real question he's asking: If you don't need me, why did you come back? Back here, specifically?

It's a good question. One you wish you had a solid answer for.

"There are rats all over this city," you tell them, thinking that it'd be best to choose at least a half-truth. "I don't know many of them, not well. Not personally. Don't know you fuckers personally, either - very rude of you, by the way, to break into my apartment like that. I'm sure Jungkook could have just told you the code - but anyways, I digress. I know how you operate, to a certain degree."

"Oh, yeah?" Jungkook questions, doubting that very much. "How do we operate?"

"Like fucking idiots," you say with a voice as flat as his tyres after a few too many burnouts. "You send in unprepared fuckers who think with their dicks instead of their brains."

Jungkook scoffs, but the rest of them wave their heads a little, contemplating the fact that you're entirely correct.

"I know your weak spots," you say, but choose not to elaborate on the fact that you were once Jungkook's. You sit back down; an act of defiance for the fact that Jungkook quite clearly doesn't want you there. "And I know some of your strengths. I also know that we have a mutual interest in the downfall of my father. Might not trust you fuckers as far as I can throw you, but I trust that your feelings towards him won't have changed all that much in three months."

"Yours seem to have changed," Jungkook notes all rather bitterly, and it makes you laugh.

You lean forward in your seat, elbow resting on your knee, chin in your palm. Your ring glistens in the light, but Jungkook ignores it. Wishes he could ignore you, full-stop, but he can't take his eyes off you. Deprived for so long, he doesn't know when he'll get this luxury again.

The fact that you're in the boxing club alone - unprotected, despite it all - should be indication enough that your feelings towards your father haven't changed. Why risk it? Why put yourself in a circumstance where you could be used against him if you weren't willing for that to happen?

"Look at you," you smile, but it's laced in contempt. "Finally making assumptions of your own. I'm proud. You got a little way to go, though, baby. You're missing the mark. Give it some time and you'll be able to make assumptions that check out."

The pet name is delivered with such ease that Jungkook almost doesn't notice it. It's the look in your eyes that really delivers it, the chaos and confusion you're conveying in one simple smirk.

"Like yours did when we first met?" He says with a raised brow, thinking you've never made an accurate assumption in the whole entire time he's known you.

"I assumed you were a cunt. Ding, ding, ding. Always right."

This earns a snicker from Namjoon, who can admittedly see why Jungkook liked you so much. There's something about you that gets the heart rate going; gets people interested in what you have to say.

Jungkook says nothing. Rolls his eyes, and grates his jaw. Doesn't see any point in conversing if you're just gonna be a bitch. He always knew you were like this, but he'd managed to chip away at your softer side and had somehow forgotten just how hard your exterior is.

You've fortified it, now though. Built your defences up. It's been three months, and you've not wasted a day. Naive of him to think you would have. You're your father's daughter after all.

"Look," you turn to Jin, still pretty and poised, but this time there's an air of sincerity to your words. "I'm waving a white flag here. You fuckers are lucky I came to your first. Might not trust anyone else in the city, but I don't trust you either. Thing is, boys, I'm traceable. If you try and do anything to me now, you fuckers'll get caught."

"So why would we want to do business with you?" He questions, incredibly curious. He thought after everything with Jungkook, that'd be the last you would see of him.

"Cause I was always traceable, you silly cunts. Do you think just cause I wasn't on speaking terms with my dad, that that was it? The moment you did the raid, I was back on his radar. I'm your connection. I'm your way in," you say, gesturing to yourself to really drive it home how important you could be for them. "If you want to bring him down - if you want to take him for all that he's worth - then you need someone on the inside. You need me. Honestly, the fact you thought a ransom situation would work is laughable, but it just shows you're lucky to have brains now to go with your brawn."

"We haven't agreed to anything," Jin reminds you. There's a warmth to his voice that contrasts the atmosphere within the room.

"No, but you will."

"Why?" Jungkook interrupts, eyes narrow, voice scornful. He's picking at the sides of his fingers, chipping away at hangnails.

"Cause what more do you have to lose, huh?" You shrug. "You're Kang's bitches, now. Wouldn't you rather be mine? I give great employee perks."

The way your eyes dance around the room, from man to man, and eventually land on Jungkook's is deliberate. He knows this, and he lets it get to him.

"What would they be?" Namjoon scoffs, unaware of your innuendo. It's kind of sweet, how naive he is.

And so naturally, you shatter all illusion of innocence.

"Ask Jungkook."

There's silence. No one quite knows how to reply.

No one except Jungkook.

"Ring on your finger be happy with you saying that?"

And for the first time, you're rattled. You hadn't expected him to mention it.

"That's of none of your concern," you shrug. Now's not the time to let him get to you - but the way you rabbit on afterwards is evidence enough that he has. "I'm not here to be interrogated. I'm extending an olive branch; giving you the chance to earn the money you were so desperately trying to make from me. You get your money, I get my father's downfall on a silver platter."

The way you look at Jungkook is unfamiliar. It's as cold and frigid as the winter nights you used to stow away with him in his car; breath clouding in the freezing temperatures despite the warmth in your heart.

A few months ago, such a look from you would have destroyed him. Absolutely decimated his entire sense of belonging. Life wouldn't have been worth living.

Now? It feels like a luxury. A sinful indulgence. He's been deprived for so long he'll take even the smallest hit of whatever you'll give him - and even when it's fleeting, your attention is like crack fucking cocaine.

It's not just your hair or your gaze that has changed. In fact, a lot about you has. There's a hollowness to your cheeks now that there wasn't before; a slight gauntness.

Without the convenience store snacks to keep you going, you actually had to eat decently. Having someone to go home to also meant that your junk diet had to be replaced with something more... appropriate for a woman in her twenties. No more eating like a teenager.

Your loss of appetite in the aftermath of Jungkook's revelation had certainly helped with this, and if anything, you've gained weight over the last few weeks - but you're still not as soft as you once were. He can see it in your cheeks. Saddens him, a little.

Has him thinking about what you could look like beneath those clothes of yours. Wonders if his hands will still fit your waist perfectly, or if your tits will still overspill in his palms just how he liked it. Considers that maybe they won't. Maybe he'll never get the chance to find out.

You think Jungkook looks colder. It's funny, cause the weather has heated up quite considerably, but it's never been frostier between the pair of you.

Getting to your feet, you brush down the tops of your thighs to straighten any creases. You've still got a persona to keep up, even when it's dark outside.

"You can discuss it amongst yourselves," You sigh as begin to head for the door, heels clicking as beneath your feet. There's something about the sound that you just adore. Maybe it's the repetition. Maybe it's the way it drowns out the chime in your stomach as you walk past the man you once thought you... No, you think. That's not right. The man you used to fuck. Much better. "I don't care, either way. I need an answer by the end of the week, or I'll find someone else. You aren't special. Plenty of other fuckers in the city who want to make a quick buck. Plenty of others who hate my father for one reason or another. You just had the balls to try it first."

"How do we know we can trust you?" Jungkook calls after you.

He's disappointed when you simply call back, "you don't."

There's more to be said, he thinks. More to discuss.

So he follows you to the parking lot. None of the other boys do. They already know they aren't welcome, and quite honestly, none of them wants to third-wheel such an awkward encounter. They'd already filled their quota for the day.

As he enters the dreary parking lot, he notices a car that's unfamiliar. It's a Merc. Black. Matte. Not too standard around these parts. Fuckin nice, though. He's impressed. Makes a mental note to ask you about the spec some other time.

"Hey, honey." You speak pleasantly into your phone as you pace around, not realising Jungkook's presence yet. He doesn't speak up. Too curious about who this honey could be. "Yeah, Just heading to Jieun's now. I'll be a couple of hours. Okay, okay. Love you, too."

Jungkook pretends like he didn't hear that bit. Does a terrible job of it - but at least he tries.

When you clock him, you couldn't be less bothered if you tried. So what if he heard you on the phone? It's up to him if he reads into it or not.

"You wanna know you can trust me?" You raise a brow, reading his suspicions of you.

Jungkook remains silent. He'll pretend it's to preserve his hard exterior, but in reality, it's to save himself from admitting the truth: he'd trust you with his life.

"I just lied," you continue. "I'm not going to Jieun's. I'm going to Yoongi's. Can follow me if you like. We both know it wouldn't be the first time. I'll be transparent with you - but don't think for a second that I trust you back."

"Yoongi's", Jungkook nods. Remembers the way Yoongi used to look at you. Remembers how he once thought that he was competition. More fool him for ever thinking you actually cared. You've a ring on your finger, now. Neither of you were ever competing, apparently. And if you were? Fell at the first hurdle. "What's that then? A little extra marital fun?

You smile insincerely. "Not married yet."

"So?"

"So even if it was, Jungkook, you're not the one who put this ring on my finger. You've no right to an opinion."

"And I never would have given you a ring," he says, as if he thinks his lack of interest in you could hurt you any more than it already had.

"Never would have wanted you to," you shrug, both of you as good at feigning disinterest as one another.

There's something about him though that has you curious. Has you feeling like you're being challenged. It's just like it was when you first met. The words you speak are laced with disgust, but the burning in your eyes can only be described as desire. He hates how easy it is for him to get like this around you. Hates that you know exactly what you can do to him.

He's realising now that you're far more in control of your feelings than he ever thought you were. He only ever saw you so vulnerable because you chose that. You let him. He's shut out now, and he doesn't like it.

But he does like the smile resting on your pretty lips as you walk towards him.

The way you encroach on his physical space has him hitching his breath in his throat, as if he's terrified to breathe around you. It's fitting, given the way you make him feel like he's drowning.

It's more than that, though.

What he truly fears is inhaling your perfume. smelling your shampoo. He's terrified of what it will do to him if he learns your hair still smells like gasoline. Even more petrified of how he'll feel if he learns that you don't smell like it anymore, mind you.

It's when you extend your index finger and hook it beneath his necklace that he really begins to lose his mind.

"Yanno," you say so quietly he has no choice but to edge just a tiny bit closer. Raising the key to be level with your eyes, you study it, watching the way the tiny crystals almost sparkle in the moonlight. You know they don't. It's just an illusion. If you had to guess - had to assume - you'd say coke. It's the only thing you can imagine him doing. His eyes are focused down on you, lashes long, gaze stern. "You should have told me you like coke."

Jungkook stays silent as you look up towards him, your lips laced in seduction. He knows better than to let you succeed, but - fuck - it's so hard not to. Whatever you're doing has an ulterior motive. It has to.

"Bumping coke's gonna ruin that pretty little nose of yours," you note.

"The fuck would you know about it?" he scoffs, but doesn't pull away. Can't bring himself to. All he can think about is the way your lips look. The difference in them is minimal, but they're definitely plumper. Have to be. Or maybe he just wants to kiss you more than he ever has done.

Your lips part as you lay your tongue flat and press the key to it.

Jungkook swallows, the lump in his throat swollen and intrusive. You wait a second. Wait for two. Then twist the key and dab the other side against your tongue.

"Takes longer if you swallow it," he whispers. "Snorting is much more cost-effective."

"Maybe so," you shrug, releasing the key from your mouth before pressing it against his chest with a slight push. "But you can't go around wearing Class A evidence like that, you silly prick. I meant what I said," you trail off to a whisper, stepping even closer towards him. He doesn't back away. Quite the opposite. He edges a little closer too. He knows he shouldn't - knows you're just baiting him - but god what a temptress you are. "I need to know I can trust the men I work with. I can't have you getting thrown into jail just for the fun of it. I need you clean."

There's something different about that last command. A softness. A plead. Your eyes linger on his, and then you pull away from the magnetism of his being.

"Stay off the drugs, Kook. A deviated septum looks sexy on no one."

And you're right.

But it doesn't really matter. The coke was just a pass time until his favourite drug came back to town. He's one hit down, and thinks the high will last him all fucking week.

The buzz perseveres. He's so consumed by it that he can't recall the conversation he had with the boys before he left. Can barely fucking remember the drive home.

But as he strips himself bare in the quiet comfort of his apartment, he can remember you.

Can remember your eyes, and the way they engulfed him with the heat of your fury - but also the way they simmered. Lashes low, lids half closed, you'd looked at him like a fucking siren, and the memory of it had his tattooed hand stroking at his firm cock. He hadn't been able to get like this since you'd left. Had tried on more than one occasion. Never managed to see it through. Would feel sick after a pump or two.

It's different now. His wrist flicks and his hand works his shaft, head thrown back into his pillows. His hips pulse, desperate for more friction, his own palm a shitty compromise after the luxury of your pussy.

It's when he's thinking of you that he gets breathless. Starts to moan. Wanks himself even faster. Harder. "Shit, C."

The term of endearment sounds so fucking sweet on his tongue. Has his torso tensing. Ass too. The wave of an orgasm threatening to crash.

Driven by instinct, his strong fingers wrap tightly around his hardened length, stroking gently. Tilting his head back, eyes firmly closed, he lets pleasure wave over him as he rolls his hips up into his palm. A guttural moan escapes his wet mouth, his teeth finding their home on his bottom lip.

More. He needs more of you. Needs your hair in his face, the scent of gasoline suffocating him. Needs his lips around your nipples, hands grappling with your ass. He needs you here.

All he's got - the only thing he's got - are his memories. His body writhes beneath him, the chain around his neck slipping from its position. There's little thought that goes into the way he moves the chain and holds the key tight between his teeth to keep it in place; nothing except the knowledge of your tongue licking against it earlier.

And then his lips close around it. His teeth ease, and the key sinks onto his tongue, the chain taut on his chin. He slows the movement of his wrist for a second. Rolls it once. Twice. Tries his best to work out if he can taste you or not.

He can't, but he can't taste the coke either, which means you did exactly as you intended. He moans, vibrating around the small key, devouring the idea that he'd exchanging spit with you once again, in a way. He knows the truth of the matter couldn't be further away from that, but it feels so fucking forbidden.

Just like you always have been. You'll remain that way.

But as his torso grows damp with the release of his orgasm onto his abs, ropes of sperm that he wishes he could have fucked into you going to waste on his skin, he can help but let his mind run wild.

Can't help but wish for more.

And so it comes as no surprise when Jungkook arrives at the boxing club, bright and early the next morning and says, "I'm in."

────────────

There's a sheen to Yoongi's skin as he opens up his apartment door, damp from the shower that was shut off just a few moments prior. Hair wet and sticking to his forehead, you're surprised to find you're the one choking on your words.

And then he smiles.

Smiles as if he's just beaten the high score of an arcade game, smiles as if he's managed to reach the peak of Apsan just in time for sunset. He smiles, and it feels like he's fixing you up with gold; seeping into the cracks that Jungkook left in you.

"If you wanted me to cover your shifts, you could have just asked," he beams. It's the first time he's seen you in three months. "You didn't have to be all dramatic and quit on me like that."

His teeth are showing, and they only show more when you give him a light tap on the shoulder with a closed first. His body jolts back slowly, eyes eating you up like a souffle pancake after a month-long fast. He bites down on his bottom lip with those pretty pearly whites, and pushes his door a little further back to invite you inside.

"You know you like a girl who keeps you on your toes," you grin back at him.

"Coffee? Tea?" He asks as you cross the threshold. You both know he won't have any at home, and that he'll need to order it in, but the gesture is kind. He's kind. "On my toes, yes. Sprinting marathons just to keep up with her? Less so much."

"Wine? And you'll thank me for the cardio in later life," you assure him, and toy with a joke about other forms of cardio you could do together. It dances on the tip of your tongue, and you know that if you spoke it aloud, goosebumps would form on his bare arms - so you say nothing, instead.

He'd be the perfect distraction, you think, nothing like the boy you're trying to forget. Kind, and handsome, and someone who actually gives a shit about you.

Forget distraction. He'd be the perfect man. Or at least he would be if he wasn't so helplessly infatuated with you.

That's thing about Yoongi; he sees all the good in you, and ignores the bad.

He'll take your witty banter, but neglect to factor in how mean it can sometimes be. He'll watch you yawn at work, half-bored to death, but refuse to acknowledge the fact you could cure said boredom with the tasks on your to-do list, that you instead leave for the next shift worker. He revels in the beauty of your laugh, but apparently is deaf when he hears you bitching about customers who have done very little wrong.

You aren't a saint. Perhaps not a sinner, either, but you sure do feel a lot closer to one than you think you should.

For all his wrongdoings, Jungkook never once treated you like you were a saint. There was no pedestal beneath your feet when you kissed him; he'd stoop to your level.

He saw you exactly as you were, which is why it hurt so much when you realised you'd only ever seen a facade that he'd cooked up in the shitty back room of a boxing club.

Thoughts of him are dissolved with mindless chatter, Yoongi always so good at taking your mind elsewhere. He knows you in such a way that talking is easy. It never feels calculated, never feeling like you need to think about what you say. He'd never judge you for a single thing.

Perhaps he should. Perhaps if he'd have held his guard up a little higher, stood his ground a little firmer, then he wouldn't be so weak to the way you batter your lashes and give him coy looks in dull-lit rooms.

There's talk of the garage; the usual customers, your old boss, how late shifts drag without you there. He's quiet when you ask about Jieun. Just tells you she's all good. He changes the subject. Asks about your dad, and how the fuck you managed to keep that one quiet.

You're surprised to find that honesty feels nice.

Until, inevitably, it doesn't.

"You gonna tell me about the ring?" he eventually asks after you've both had a little wine to ease the tension of three months you've been away.

You don't drop your eyes from him, not even for a second. His damp hair is nearly fully dry, and he looks so comfortable in a pair of grey sweats and a white shirt, reclined on his sofa. Simplicity looks good on him.

You're still in business casual, tight dress hiked around the top of your thighs as you sit on his floor. It was always your default when you came to his place, for some reason always opting for the floor instead of next to him on the sofa. Always been concerned about keeping a little distance. Funny, how the one time the distance would be apt, you find yourself wanting to sit next to him instead. You don't, though. Not yet, at least.

"What of it?"

Yoongi looks at you like you're a little bit mad. He kind of thinks you are.

"It's on your ring finger."

"Oh?" you say with a small laugh. "Is it?"

His eyes narrow on yours, before they glance back down to the ring. The stone is clear, and if he were to guess, he'd assume it was diamond - but he'd never struck you to be the kind of girl who ever wanted diamonds. Opals, maybe. Emerald, topaz. Stones with a bit about them. Something interesting. Not a diamond. Of all things.

But perhaps he didn't know you as well as he thought he had done. Perhaps you really weren't the girl he had dreamt up in his head; the one that he spent hours upon hours daydreaming about after you left.

Funny, how both he and Jungkook would get lost for lifetimes thinking about you, but they were both so vastly different.

In Yoongi's you'd come back home, show up at the garage like no time at all had passed, and tell him that you were wrong all along. He's the one you want. He's the one you've been going crazy thinking about. He's the one you came back for.

Sometimes he thinks about that week you went to Busan. Thinks about what it could have been like if he'd been the one to take you. Thinks about how fucking good it could have been to experience life outside of the confines of work and your apartments together. He thinks and he thinks and he thinks. Occasionally he acts on those thoughts too, but he tries not to.

It all feels a little wrong.

But that's what he likes about it. The fact he knows he shouldn't be thinking about you when he's turned on just turns him on even more; so he finds himself thinking of you far more often than he should. Thinks of you when he's alone; his bedroom lights switched off, duvet pushed midway down his thighs, hands roaming down his body. He grazes his skin with the tips of his nails. Pretends it's you.

"What about you," you shrug, nodding towards the scrunchie that's looped around the neck of a wine bottle on the counter. "Don't think your hair's long enough for that."

"You'd be surprised," he grins, pleased to find you grinning back.

"Prove it," you flirt, getting to your feet to retrieve it.

Yoongi watches as you retrieve the scrunchie, and knows that he should tell you no.

He should say 'actually, that's my girlfriend's.'

But she's only ever been a distraction to stop him from thinking about you - and how can he think of anyone else when you're in his space, heels off, dark hair draped over your shoulders like fine silk?

In your heart of hearts, you know that the scrunchie means he has someone. The hair grips by the sink, the takeout containers for two next to the recycling, the fact his apartment is actually clean and tidy, too.

"Prove it?" He grins as you return to his sofa, but you don't sit. You stand in front of him. Keep your eyes on him. Wait as he adjusts a little, his leg unhooking from beneath the other so that his lap makes the perfect seat for you to sit upon.

And so you do. You hike your dress up. One of your knees rests down next to his thigh. You're tentative. Slow.

His hand strokes up the back of your thigh. He nods. Encourages you further onto his lap. When your second knee finds its home next to his other thigh, he nods again.

You're smiling as you lower your weight, ass perched on the tops of his thighs. There's a little distance between the pair of you. You're not as close as you could be. Proceeding with caution. His lips pouty, eyes pure. A paradox.

"Prove it," you nod, and your hands start to toy with his hair. He's smiling right back at you, enthralled with the flirt almost as much as he's enthralled with the way it feels to have your nails scratching against his scalp. "Gonna make your hair look so pretty."

It's unfair, he thinks, that you get to have your hands in his hair, but his aren't allowed in yours. Doesn't realise that you wouldn't object.

"Don't think you will," he simpers back, the hand of his that was on the back of your thigh now resting on top of it, stroking ever so gently. The touch is so gentle, so minimal, and yet it has you pulsing beneath the lace of your underwear.

There's a ring on your finger, and someone waiting for you at home, but no one's had you in a position this provocative since you jumped town. See, you're 'waiting'. 'Want it to be special'. Don't want to make the same mistakes you did last time the ring had been on your finger.

Or at least that's what you tell yourself, and your fiance seems to believe it - why else would he get down on one knee again?

"I definitely will," you banter as you wrap his hair up with the scrunchie. His hair sticks on end, like a tiny sprout, and he looks adorable. "Gonna make you look sooo pretty."

He frowns, but with a sparkle in his eyes that let you know he's just joking. "Done?"

"Done," you beam, giving it one final adjustment. There's a slight movement to your hips, too. Getting cosy. His hand sinks a little further up your thigh. You pretend not to notice it. "Prettiest sprout in the whole of Daegu."

"Only Daegu? There are prettier sprouts outside of Daegu?"

You shrug. "Maybe. We should enter you into the national pretty sprout competition."

He adjusts his hips, sitting up a little straighter. He moves you into a more comfortable position as he does so. You're closer now. So much closer.

"Think I could win?"

"Best in show, baby," you grin. "I'd win for best sprout stylist, though."

Laughter echoes around you, his smile so sweet, so saccharine that you think he must surely be made of sugarcane.

The way Yoongi looks at you is devastating. Eyes soft and round, they're glossy and wet. Earnest.

They drop to your lips, then return to your eyes. Repeat. His lashes flutter whenever he does so, and there's a reflection from his floor lamp that looks like a pretty little love heart in them.

So devastating. It's the kind of look people would write films about, all for that one shot of his eyes after the confession scene. The one that will go viral, the one that will be cited for years as 'the look', the one that would earn Min Yoongi a place in the heart of every young woman who watches it. Young men, too. Fuck it, anyone with a pair of working eyes.

He's got a look in them that makes you want to believe in love; but the fact you even have to think about it just proves that this could never be that.

"I'm using you," you tell him, knowing that honesty is all you can really give him. He deserves that much, at the very least. Deserves more, you think, so much more than you can ever be - but he doesn't want more. He just wants you.

He tries a little banter. "To win the competition? I know."

But you don't feel like bantering. You want him to know how much of a piece of shit you are. How much you only ever think of yourself. How selfish you can be.

There's a look on your face that is unfamiliar to him. A warning. I'm a hurricane; I will destroy you. It's one that he ignores.

"I know," he whispers back, seriously this time, his index finger tucking away strands of your hair that are hanging loose. Eyes focused on the movements of his fingers, he's too scared to look into yours. Shy, almost. Timid, and sweet, and everything that Jungkook's not. "And I'm letting you. I'm using you, too."

It's funny, because he really thinks he is. He thinks he's got control over the situation, that all this is happening because he chose for it to happen - as if you haven't been holding the cards this whole entire time. He's only winning because you're letting him win.

Part of you feels bad. You know that his feelings for you run deeper than your simple want to be wanted, and yet you don't try and rectify the situation. He's a grown man. He can make his own decisions. He can make his own mistakes.

The tentative tips of his fingers trail down your cheek, your neck. He pushes your hair over your shoulder, and presses a kiss against it.

His lips trail a little further up, ghosting your neck, occasionally pressing down. He's slow. Takes his time. Savours this; savours you.

You're surprised by the way it feels when Yoongi finally kisses you.

His lips are just as they should be, firm and soft, and when his tongue begins to trail across your bottom lip, you accept it into your mouth. There's silence in your sternum. You had expected that bell to chime like it so often did, but instead, there's just a small fizzle and pop, like a sparkler being dunked in a water cup. You can feel the fizzle, mind you, working its way down until you find yourself clenching.

This is good, you tell yourself. What you need.

Yoongi's tongue is slow as it licks into your mouth. He's working you out. Seeing how you taste, how it feels when your moans vibrate against him.

His hands tentatively begin to roam; hips pulsing beneath you. The weight of your body on top of his feels like a fucking crime. His fingers trail up your back. Tickle at your spine. Curve round your ribs and ghost the underside of your tits.

Your breath hitches, and all you can think about is him.

Your fingers clasp around Yoongi's, holding them in place, stopping them from moving further. He looks at you, head tilting when he realises yours is shaking. He's scared he's fucked it already.

"Just," you say quickly, noticing the panic in his eyes. "These," you gesture to your chest, not wanting to be specific but needing him to know. "Off limits. If that's okay?"

He nods. "Sure, of course. I'm sorry."

"No," you smile. "It's okay."

You could clarify. Could explain. Could make up some lie about how you don't like it, or how you're insecure, but Yoongi accepts your boundaries without question.

"Sure?" He asks, a little scared to venture further. He doesn't want to do the wrong thing. Doesn't want to make you uncomfortable, or make you feel like regretting your choices. He knows that he's probably only ever gonna get one shot at this, but he's gonna treat it like an audition for a permanent position. If he does well, maybe you'll want him again.

His hesitancy is sweet, you think. Endearing. Perhaps a little bit of a turn-off, but you don't seem to mind. You like that you can take of him just as much as he wants to take care of you.

The pace of his hips increases beneath you, your clothes aiding and abetting your crimes. It's not technically cheating if nothing happens. Or at least, that's what you tell yourself.

Sure, his cock is fucking solid beneath his sweats, trapped in the confines of his underwear, and - fuck it, fine - maybe you are so wet that you're leaving a small mark on his crotch from where it's seeped through - but it's nothing.

It's not like you're actually touching his dick. Your hands are exclusively in his hair, his pretty sprout long gone, the scrunchie now around your wrist.

And it's not like he's inside you, either - although he wishes he was. In fact, he's thinking about it when he begins whining into your mouth. Your hips are working against him, the friction getting you closer and closer an-

"God, you're gonna make- fuck, I'm gonna-" he rasps, but he doesn't slow his movements. His hands are on your waist, dictating the speed at which you're moving on top of him. He's using you just as much as you're using him.

"Cum?" You finish his sentence with a sinful smirk against him. Your tongue flicks against his, and he's whining again. You're so direct, so blasé, that he doesn't know how to control himself. "Don't pretend like it's the first time, Yoongi."

See, Yoongi doesn't fuck like Jungkook.

Yoongi fucks nice girls. Girls who fuck for love. Girls who rarely fuck. Girls who do as they should; sit pretty, let the man have his way with them, and ask for nothing in return. Girls who are prudish, and refuse to discuss sex unless they're about to have it.

More often than not, Yoongi goes for girls who love him.

And it's probably why he's so fixated on you; because he knows you never will.

You're unattainable. Good girl gone bad. Sultry and seductive in a way that he's never seen before.

He ruts up against you, chest heaving as his grip on your waist forces you to angle a little further away from him. He shakes his head ever so slightly, lips hanging ajar. "Not the first time. Course it fucking isn't. Look at you."

And now you're fucking whining. He likes the reciprocation. Makes him feel like you want this just as much as he does - and you do. There's nothing you want more at that moment than to have Yoongi twitching in his underwear, unloading himself all because of you. You want the control. The power. The satisfaction.

You want a man weak for you, to make up for how weak a man had made you feel. You want confirmation that Jungkook was nothing special. That you can have the same impact on any man.

And here Yoongi is, hard beneath the weight of your body, your pussy hot against his stiff crotch; body clammy as he pretends like the scrunchie around your wrist doesn't belong to a girl who bakes him homemade tangerine tarts, just because. He isn't thinking about her. He's utterly consumed by you. He'll feel bad about it after you leave, but for now, he's just thinking of ways he can make you stay.

"Slow," you tell him, placing your hand against his chest, just below his ribs. You both ignore your ring just like you both ignore the scrunchie. He's just as corrupt as you are. Maybe you're a good match. Maybe you can be each other's favourite mistakes.

You shuffle back a little; ass perched on his knees, eyes looking at his crotch as your palm follows your gaze. It's not hard to get a read on his size beneath his sweats. They're a pale grey, but there's a telling dark stain where you've been sitting.

"Shit," he hisses. "We can't- I can't. I want to - fucking hell, I really do - but I can't."

"I know," you nod. "That's not what I'm after."

The way you smile as you say it has Yoongi thinking he might just cum right there and then. You're fucking with his head - but what bothers him the most is how much he likes it.

"What are you after, then?" he asks as he feels your hand squeeze around his length. He groans, head tipping back against the top of his sofa. The way his hips pulse is involuntary, and it has sin lacing your smile.

"Just wanna adjust you slightly," you shrug. You want his cock laying flat against his body. It's kind of at an angle now, and while it feels great to grind down on, you know it will be even better if you can work up and down his shaft a little easier. Better for you both.

He bites down on his lip to hold back another moan and nods when you release the pressure of your palm.

"You wanna move it, or shall I?" you ask, not wanting to overstep a boundary.

"I'll do it," he says, hand dipping beneath his waistband without hesitation. It's not cheating if he does it, he rationalises. It is cheating if you do it. He's decided, that's his limit. As long as you don't actually touch his cock, then it's fine. He hasn't given the kissing much thought because he doesn't want to stop doing it.

He looks at you as he strokes his cock, just a couple of times. Just enough to make you wish it was your lips around it, not his hand. You can't see anything - it's still hidden by his sweats - but the adjustment just makes the outline so much clearer. So much bigger.

"This okay?" he asks, almost nervously. Eyes darting around your face to get a read.

You nod. "Perfect."

His hands find your waist again, and he pulls you further up his lap. He holds you in place as he slowly pushes up against you. Your hand snakes behind his neck, the other clasping one of his wrists. Your nails dig in; a moan stuttering from your pouty lips.

"That feel better?" he checks, but your reaction was all he needed to confirm it.

Still, you're notoriously the worst - and so you smirk. Lean forward. Subtly move your hips as you do so. Press a chaste kiss against his neck. Whisper, "I'm not sure. You'll have to try again."

He's even slower this time. Deeper. You shouldn't be doing this, Yoongi.

And yet he does it again. Groans. Curses. "You make me so hard."

You can't help but laugh. He's sweet. Nice to be with. "You're welcome."

It's the giggle that gets him.

Sweet? Nice? Yeah, fuck that.

His hips get erratic. The speed, the pace. Jesus H. Christ. It's a good job you aren't fucking because you think he'd actually break you. You know he'd kiss it better, so it's okay - but now you're thinking of his tongue and how badly you want his head between your legs.

"Wait for me," you whine into his lips, as your hand dips towards your clothed cunt. It's so warm and wet that it's a miracle Yoongi hasn't stripped you bare just to have the luxury of experiencing it.

You both know this is a one-and-done kind of thing. One time can be classed as a mistake. A lapse in judgement. Forgiveness will be far easier. Repeat offences? Well, they're a pattern. Guaranteed to reoccur. It'd be an affair, for lack of a better term.

Yoongi was raised better. You weren't, but that's neither here nor there.

With your dress hiked up around your hips, it's almost cruel how easily Yoongi could access your pussy if he really wanted to. Has been resisting the temptation. The lace of your underwear - black and barely there - leaves little to the imagination. He's salivating at the sheer thought of how you could taste. He can smell your arousal, and thinks you must be some kind of delicacy.

His brain is playing tricks on him. Making him feel like he hasn't eaten for weeks. What he wouldn't give to have you in his mouth right now.

It's out of bounds, though. He can't.

But he can match the rhythm of his hips to the pace you're rubbing languid circles against your clothed cunt, right above the hood of your clit.

And again, he wants it in his mouth.

He needs a distraction. Something. Anything. Feels your grip on the back of his neck and decides that's it.

"Throat," he husks. "Put your hand around my throat."

The sound Yoongi makes when you do as he's asked, nails digging into his skin ever so slightly, is unlike anything you've ever heard before. It's desperate, unrestrained. Pathetic. So fucking hot.

But you're both mewling now, bodies clammy beneath your clothes.

It hits you first; the wave of an orgasm crashing down over you, taking Yoongi with it. Your body shakes on top of his, teeth biting down into his shoulder as hands squeeze your ass so tightly you think it might bruise.

Good. Would be nice to have the mark of someone else on your skin for once.

He folds almost as fast as you do. He's quiet as he cums, not minding that your grip on his throat had dropped. There's no announcement, no prewarning, he just lets his body fall into the familiar notion of what it feels like to experience euphoria because of you. Breath hitched, cock spurting into his underwear, Yoongi's head lolls. His eyes are half-mooned, lips resting ajar, looking directly at you as he cums.

It's sordid. Dirty. Forbidden. Your favourite kind of sexual exploit - but Yoongi is a willing participant. Wanting.

His hair is a little ruffled from your hands, body limp and docile from his release. He makes no objection as your frill his hair with a smile. He does eye you a little curiously as you begin to tie his hair back up with that damn scrunchie again. He's glad it's off your wrist. Felt guilty looking at it.

You tilt your head, eyes expansive and inquisitive as a smile prevails. "Prettiest sprout in Daegu."

And he really is; honey skin all pink and clammy, eyes glossy, a smile forming on his pouty lips. But he's also not stupid. He knows you're just trying to pretend like what just happened never did.

It's the sensible thing to do - but fuck, he's been thinking about that (or at least some variation of it) for months. Years, even. Against his better judgement, he steals a chaste kiss from your lips. "Prettiest sprout maker in Daegu."

The bashful shake of your head, the way your cheeks apple, the sound of your fucking giggle, all confirm it for him.

"Shut up."

"Don't think I can," he grins, satisfied to have finally gotten you like this. And then he kisses you again, because he knows full well that very soon he won't be able to. "Why the fuck did we never do that before?"

You wrap your arms around his neck and simper into his kiss. It's nice to be wanted. Nice to have someone want you just for the sake of wanting you. Nice to use someone instead of being used. There's no ulterior motive with Yoongi; just bad timing. That's all.

"'Cause we'd have never got any work done at the garage if we knew how good it felt," you hum, voice light and airy. He's missed you in the months you've been away. "Would have spent all our time in the stock room."

"You did that anyways," he laughs, pressing kisses down your neck. "Fucking slacker."

His lips stop beneath your collarbones, just shy of your chest, mindful of the boundary you set earlier.

"You never complained," you remind him. "You loved it."

He shakes his head. Doesn't deny it. Just grins.

And that's when the guilt starts to creep in for you, too.

Yoongi's one of the good ones. Hair tied up all cute and silly just because you wanted to do it. There's safety to be found when you're sitting in his lap. He'd never fuck you over. Never.

But you've twisted his arm, and made him fuck over some other poor girl. You know it's gonna eat at him - because he's a good person. Far better than you are.

"Hey," you say quietly. "I should get going."

"It's late," he replies, his deep voice a similar dulcet volume to yours. He's mirroring you. It's cute. "You can take my bed. I'll sleep on the couch again. Like last time."

The way he tacks that last sentence on is so delicate. So pure. Proof that you can trust him. It's tried and tested. Customer approved. Trip Advisor recommended.

In your heart of hearts, you know you don't deserve another minute of his company. You look down. Choke on your words a little. Shake your head. "Wouldn't wanna put you out."

You've a home to get to.

"It's no bother," he smiles.

You know leaving will hurt him, but fear staying will do more damage.

And again, you've a home to get to.

"Stay," he says.

"I can't," you whisper. Nudge your nose against his. Let your lips linger a little too close. Don't press down until he does. And then you kiss him like you really mean it. You think you do. "I'm sorry."

The worst thing about Yoongi is the way he smiles. It's innocent, even if what you just did wasn't. Sincere. Compassionate. You know he's only thinking about you - but there are other people in this equation. You reach for the scrunchie. It pulls from his hair with ease - a testament to how he feels about his short-lived romance. It doesn't matter though, as you pick up his wrist and place the scrunchie around it.

He looks at it; at your nails and how they clasp his hand so delicately. He squeezes them. Nods. Purses his lips, takes in the shine of your ring, then looks at you. "I'm sorry, too."

You're not sure what for. For not acting sooner? For not asking you on a date all those months ago? For the fact he moved on when you moved away?

"It's cool," you say and try a sincere smile back. He sees right through it. "We're cool."

"We are?"

"We are."

Yoongi calls you a cab. You've had too much wine to risk getting pulled over. The scandal your father would face as the result of you getting a DUI isn't worth it at this point. You've a role to play. A home to get to before the sun rises.

And despite it all, he kisses you goodbye.

"Better not go rogue again," he tells you.

All you can do is smile. "No promises."

────────────

When your fiancé calls through to the master bathroom - letting you know he's off to work - you pretend you can't hear him. There's a shuffle by the door as he waits for a reply, but when he doesn't get one, he assumes you're beneath the water.

Easy enough mistake.

You've been too busy staring at your reflection for upwards of ten minutes, trying to assess who the fuck is staring back at you. The marble countertops are cold beneath your hands, the shower running freely, 'cause you're not the one footing the bill. Your fiancé is.

You don't feel bad about the fact you're quite literally pouring his cash down the drain. There's enough money to cover it - but of course there is. Despite his well-to-do salary man image, his main income comes under the table. It's illicit, but so is everything in the world you'd left behind all those years ago.

The man who put a ring on your finger is on your father's payroll. Has been since he turned eighteen. Is following in his own father's footsteps.

It's all very sweet, when you come to think about it - what kid doesn't look up to their father? You sure had.

You, the daughter of a political figurehead; he, the son of the Chief of Police.

It's what made you such a great couple from the get-go.

Was kind of like the fairytales your mother would read to you before bed. You wonder now if she was trying to ingrain the idea of such a suitor from your early childhood. Get her ideal man embedded in your brain before it even had a chance to fully develop.

Your fiancé is a little older than you are, so they had to buy time. Make sure no relationship between the pair of you could be scandalised.

Once you were of age, it seemed to be a match made in heaven. The stuff of Shakespeare plays.

It was only natural that you would end up together. Set in stone. You'd marry and become an unstoppable force for your parents. The city would remain theirs.

Thing is, you never wanted to be a character in a Shakespeare romance. You always thought it'd be fruitless. They all end up the victims of great tragedies, anyways.

What you had wanted was to be the muse of a sonnet. Have a man dote on you; write you poetry under the glare of sweltering summer heat. Someone who'd make metaphors out of the condensation on cans of chilsung, consumed together down by your favourite spot along the river. He'd mumble nonsense about the smell of your hair and how he'd long to touch you with his ink-stained fingertips.

As you grew, you began to favour motor oil over ink. Hardly a surprise that you'd been suckered by a motor-loving swine with ink etched into his knuckles. You tend not to think about how gentle those hands of his could be. He'd been everything you had ever wanted wrapped into one. Tied with a pretty red bow.

Now, you think you'll be lucky if you make it to the footnotes of a political history book.

You shower. Take a little longer than normal to rinse the grimey feeling of betrayal from your skin. It'll never leave. Not really. Lodged beneath too many layers of skin.

It's not like you had gone to Yoongi's with the intention of letting things get that far. A little flirt, sure, something harmless - but it was just so lovely to have choices. So nice to be able to choose someone who is also choosing you, even if just for a moment. A lapse in time; in judgement.

Your fiancé never chose you. He chose the path of least resistance from his parents, and you just so happened to be crossing the same road as him.

He's tall. The full cliche - dark, handsome. Had been your first 'love' before you knew what love actually was. First everything. First boy to cheat on you, too, but you mother just told you all men were cheaters. Nothing to get your knickers in a twist about. Your father was leading by example.

So even though you're in his apartment, wearing clothes washed in his detergent, helping yourself to snacks he bought, you know not to be too comfortable. Not to convince yourself he actually wants this relationship for anything other than his own political gain.

He's banking on a promotion. Not within his career, but within your father's corruption. You're an asset.

And him? Well, to state it plainly, he's an ass.

He's also definitely fucking his secretary, but it's not like he's getting lucky with you so you don't care all that much. She was in the picture before you. Or at least, while you were away. It's been a few years since you were last here. Enough time for something to blossom. Poor thing probably actually loves him. You doubt it's reciprocated.

The ring on your finger is nothing more than a political move; a safety net for the man who had held had refused to pawn it after you left the first time. You'd been a diamond girl, back then. Had been a different person entirely.

You're sat on his sofa, twiddling at your ring, garbage reality shows play on his obnoxiously large television screen, when he pops home towards the end of his lunch break.

He seems agitated. Doesn't really greet you. Is looking for a casefile he'd left at home this morning.

"Think they're by the bed," you hum, vaguely aware of flicking through them this morning after he'd left.

Petty convenience store robbery, nothing really to write home about. You scoff at the cases he's been assigned, as if he were still a rookie. He's been on the force for years. He should be investigating major crimes. Murders. Narcotics. Corruption.

Then again, he'd end up investigating all of his friends if he did those cases. Must be better for him to stay away.

"Yeah, yeah, I know," he dismisses as he rushes on through.

There's a slight waft of perfume as he passes you. It becomes clear why he decided to cram the document retrieval into the last ten minutes of his lunch break. You find yourself wondering if you had smelt like Yoongi when you'd arrived home the night before.

"You picking up the car this afternoon?"

Shit. The car.

"Yeah." Your capability of making lies sound like bible truth is commendable. A skill. Talent. "Was just about to go."

"Okay, good. You gonna be near Kang's? I need some more oil."

You're silent for a moment. Think of which lovely little lie to tell. Settle on, "Jieun lives not too far from it. I can pop by."

He hums something in response. You think it might be a thank you but he doesn't care to articulate it properly. It's not till he walks back to the living area that you realise he's still talking. "-actually be good for you to get out of the house. You can't mope around here all day."

You scowl. Look at him with genuine disdain. "Sorry?"

"I'm just saying," he shrugs, a look on his face as if he genuinely thinks he's not being a dick. "You can't be out all hours at night - and before you say it, I don't care if it's just at Jieun's, I have a work schedule I have to sleep for - and then spend all day doing nothing."

This time, you stay silent.

You don't think he's wrong, but he's also the one who had given you terms and conditions when he put that ring back on your finger. No GS25 was one of them. No university either, which is what you'd really wanted to do; actually educate yourself on business affairs, so that it wasn't all bullshit when you were dealing with the hooligans from Kang's.

But no. To be welcomed back into the fold was to be restricted; prevented from doing things that would garner you any further independence.

"While I'm at Kang's, I'll see if they've got any jobs going," you say. The garage in front of the boxing club would actually be the perfect place for you to work while you figured out your next move. You also know there's no way in hell it would ever be given the green light.

"Working for your father's political rival?" he scoffs, not taking you seriously for a second.

"Says the man who wants me to buy oil from there," you scoff right back. "But fine, I can go back to GS2-"

"No. Your father said-"

"You think I give a rat's arse what my father said?"

"Your father said to keep a low profile until he can justify another job opening in the mayoral office."

"Joy. Can't wait," you say as he walks to the door. He's out of it without even so much as a goodbye when you mumble, "You might be his bitch, Hoseok, but I'm not."

Realistically, the conversation had been done as soon as you mentioned getting a job.

It's on the list of 'No Can Do' activities, set in place by your father to keep his political appearance clean. No job, no school, no clubs, nothing worthy of a scandal. Nothing that could be used against him. He might have won the last election, but Kang came pretty fucking close to stealing it from him. He needs to gain back the favour of his people.

It takes well over an hour to get to Kang's by foot from the city center apartment you're in, so you head to the nearest bus station. Figure you'll just hop on the 503. Will try not to think about Jungkook when you do so.

You're dressed down, a slouchy jumper over a pair of jeans fading you into obscurity. Nothing special. You know you should really make more of an effort to keep up appearances, but you're tired. Exhausted. Not physically, but mentally.

Your old life is draining you.

There had been method to your madness: you'd returned 'home' for a reason.

Part of you wishes you hadn't. Wishes you'd have gone straight to Kangs.

But you needed an 'in', and to be honest, you needed protection. You play a mean game of poker, and your bluff has been perfected, but behind the poker face, you're scared. Of your reality. Of your father. Of the men who dwell in Kang's boxing club.

And so you'd needed to get your ducks in a row before you stepped foot into Kang's. Couple of months was all it had taken for your family to be convinced that your reckless youth had been outgrown; for a ring to be back on your finger.

You find yourself thinking about Jungkook; what it could have been like if you'd have met him before... well, before everything.

You think about your life as a teenager - privileged, affluent. Think about his hardships, and how you could have tried to help. Your father never would have listened to you, but you could have a least appealed to his sense of humanity. Could have tried to stop the funding cuts. Probably could have extorted your father; used his mistakes against him.

Instead, you'd distanced yourself. Changed your legal name as soon as you could because you knew that, eventually, you'd want to run. Would want to remove yourself from any position of influence.

It's why you never could have helped Jungkook. You had been running from the very thing he needed: power, influence, money. At the time, they'd been meaningless to you. Not meant for you, you thought - though you're doing rather well cosplaying as Daddy's little princess again.

As you make your way across town, you notice how bad the air quality is once more - heavy in your lungs, drying your eyes out.

You make your way to Yoongi's, and for a moment, it feels like nothing has changed. Like you're just going to hang out on a day off. You'll gossip about the boss, maybe make theories on why Jieun had called in sick the week before.

But when Yoongi opens his apartment door, he wants to look like he's ambivalent about your arrival. Indifferent. Unphased. Can't help but smile, though.

"Twice in twelve hours?" he says. "Really making up for lost time, aren't you?"

You roll your eyes, because there's an innuendo lacing his words and you're not sure what to make of it. Both of you are sober, now, not a drop of wine left in your systems and yet... you kind of feel like you are a little tipsy.

Your skin is clammy, heart beating a little faster than it should be. Just the air quality, you tell yourself. Harder to breathe. Yeah, just the air. Just the pollution, baby.

Funny, how it's Jungkook's voice in your head again.

But Yoongi's heart is doing the just same. Can't blame it on the air.

He knows last night was wrong, but the adrenaline rush that had come with giving himself up for you made him feel like he'd digested enough uppers to kill a man. Swallowed them whole. Chased a high he'd never reached before. Nirvana. Purgatory disguised as paradise.

"Look, Yoongi I-" You begin, but he interrupts you. Knows the tone of voice you're using. Doesn't want to hear it.

"Don't," he says, opening his door a little wider to invite you in.

You hesitate, but when he knocks his head back, eyes half-mooned as they drink you in, you can't refuse. He nods to the sofa, where you take a seat, shoes off, feet up, legs crossed.

He stands by the wall opposite you, keeping a little distance. Looks down - but then right back up and into your eyes as he says, "You've only just got here. Don't treat me like I was a mistake already."

There's silence as you look at one another. Your lips rest ajar, a million thoughts fighting it out to be spoken first.

"You weren't."

You're not sure you believe it, but you want him to. Don't want him feeling like you regret him.

"No?" He says, dark but deliriously honest; not only how they drink you in, but how they also pour out for you. The windows to his soul are open, curtains wafting in the breeze. He's inviting you in. Offering you a home. "Why does it feel like you were about to say that it was?"

Because you were.

Not because you thought it was a mistake for you; but because it was a mistake for him. The scrunchie has been hidden away, and his take-out for two containers have been left out for the recycling collection. He's testing out what it could be like, you think. What it could be like to have you in his space.

"I can't give you what you need," you say quietly, avoiding eye contact. You'd expected a little more small talk before jumping to the hard hitters, but Yoongi's been striking out for years. He's making the most of your defence being down.

"Can't, or won't?"

"Both," you feign a half smile. "Even if I wanted to, Yoongi, I don't think I could. I'm not made for you people like you."

"And what am I like?"

"Good," you speak so softly he can't help but smile. "Deserving of more."

He just shrugs. Doesn't hide his hurt. "What if I don't want more?"

"Yoongi-"

And then his hurt takes precedence; obscures any whispers in his mind that tell him not to do... well, do whatever the fuck this is. He's waited years for a green light from you. Instead, you'd raced through amber the night before. Looks red now. He just wants fucking green.

"I don't want more."

"Yoongi."

He looks down. Shakes his head.

When his gaze meets yours again, the windows are shut - but the curtains are still drawn open wide. It's dark inside. Lights are off, but there's somebody home. They're waiting for you to come home, too.

He walks a little closer to the sofa. "Tell me you didn't want me last night."

You're so good at lying. Have mastered it. And yet-

"That's not fair."

Why aren't you lying to him? You can be cold. You can be callous. You're perfectly capable of treating the ones you love like they mean nothing more than the shit beneath your shoes, and yet it's hard to do it with Yoongi. Hard to tell him anything he doesn't want to hear. He deserves the earth, you think, and yet all you're giving him is dirt that will get trapped beneath his nails.

"Tell me you didn't," he repeats, standing a little taller now. His shoulders are broad. Powerful. You'd be safe with Yoongi. Would want for nothing. "Tell me you didn't want me last night."

You look down. Shake your head.

Shame is a funny feeling. Fools you into thinking you should be honest.

"I can't."

Yoongi doesn't smile. Just nods. "Because you want me, too."

"Not for the right reasons, Yoongi," you stress, hoping he'll see sense.

"Who gives a fuck about the right reasons?"

"You will."

"I won't."

"When you ruin what's good for you because of something I can't give you, then you'll give a fuck," you tell him. The hairband might be hidden but there's half a tangerine tart left in his fridge and a concert ticket she bought for him taped on the door of it. His life is good. He doesn't need you storming through it like a summer typhoon. "I am nothing. I can give you nothing."

And then Yoongi does something all rather unexpected.

He smirks.

Toys at the corner of his lips with his tongue. Crosses his arms and raises his brow. "You gave me yourself last night."

"I gave you my body," you correct him, getting to your feet. Nothing good will happen from this conversation. You just need to get your keys and go. There's an urgency to your movements, heading towards the kitchen section of his open planing living space. Your keys will be on the hook where he keeps his own, you're sure. "Look, I've got-"

Your movements are halted as Yoongi reaches for your hand. Pulls you round. Walks you back until your ass is against the kitchen cupboards. You're looking up at him. The closeness of your bodies is intentional. Orchestrated by him; allowed by you. His voice is low as he says, "That's not nothing."

"But it's not enough," you stress, and you absolutely mean it. "I'm engaged to be married, Yoongi."

"And I'm already going to hell," he whispers, resting his forehead against yours. You don't stop him. "So I may as well have fun with it."

This is a side to him that you've never seen before. One that screams danger. Either he's learnt what you like in a man, or maybe he's just been hiding this part of him. He's tried being perfect, has seen it doesn't work. Maybe this is the real Min Yoongi.

"Yoongi," you say with little thought as his nose nudges against yours.

"Mhmm?" he hums back. His lips ghost yours. Your heart is beating out of your chest. One of his hands is flat against the kitchen counter as the other brushes up the curve of your waist.

You shake your head. The movement only causes the friction of your lips to tenfold. "If this happens, it doesn't mean anything."

He smiles against you. Shakes his head. Presses his lips against yours. One, two, remember to breathe. Pulls away. "It means everything."

You've always been a sucker for men who speak in definitive terms.

But you know how dangerous they can be, now. Know not to trust their words.

"We're not on the same page," you say. At least this way, you can't be accused of leading him on.

"We're not even reading the same damn book," Yoongi smiles against you. Kisses you again. Pulls away before you're ready for him to do so. "But does it really matter if they both have the same ending?"

And then you kiss him. It's soft. Tender. So sweet and gentle compared to the hardness of your heart. "It's not a happy ending."

"So close it, then," Yoongi says, pulling away from you a little. He's giving you the chance to leave. To get out. Escape. "Close your book. Stop this from happening."

But then you're kissing him again, and his tongue is in your mouth and - fuck - it's so nice to feel someone touch you with such intent. You know this is more than something casual, know that you've cared for Yoongi for too long for it not to have stemmed from nothing, but there's no permanence. It's terrifying and soothing all within the same swipe of his tongue against yours.

"One last chance," he says, lips so close to yours that he may as well be sending you telepathic messages. "Close your book if you want to."

It's shameful, the way you shake your head. Keep your eyes closed. Swallow. "But I wanna know what happens next."

Must sound like music to Yoongi's ears. He kisses you so deeply you think you may suffocate.

"What happens next is up to you," he moans into your lips, his nimble fingers pushing the button of your jeans through its fastening. "But it starts with this."

The sound of your breath is heavy. It soundtracks the murmur of your jeans zip being pushed down. Doesn't hide the way he curses against your lips.

"Yoongi," you whisper, eyes closing to stop yourself from catching his gaze.

His lips press against your throat, his dexterous fingers toying with the lace of your underwear. He knows he shouldn't. Knows that there's no taking this back. Knows he's fucking everything up - but he's played it safe for so fucking long and where has that ever gotten him before?

"Yoongi, I-" you try again, but his tongue strokes against your neck, teeth grazing it ever so scarcely. His fingers sink into your jeans. Press on your clit above your underwear. It has you gasping for air. He eases his pressure, then reapplies. Repeats. Your hips move languidly against his movements. You want this. Want him.

Want to feel like you're actually loved.

"Say the word, and I'll stop," he promises.

But you just shake your head.

"No?"

"No."

"Don't stop?"

He presses his fingers against you. Circles. Once, twice. God, it feels so fucking good to have him touch you like this. Has you mewling. "Don't stop."

"I won't. I'll make you feel so good," he husks against your neck. "You know I can do it. Know I can make you feel better than anyone else ever has."

The promise is pointed; directed at Jungkook. You hate that you're thinking about him. Hate that as you tug on Yoongi's hair, his fingers still pressing against your clothed cunt, it's Jungkook's face in your mind. His smirk, how he loved watching you come undone, how he comes undone.

And so you open them. Focus on Yoongi. Tell him how good he's already making you feel. Tell him how you've thought about this before.

It's not a lie. Admittedly, it was before Jungkook had ever come onto the scene, when you and Yoongi were still dancing that awkward line of flirting or friends. You'd settled on different sides, but, for a while, you contemplated what could happen if you chose the same side as him. Spent a couple of late nights imagining how he'd feel.

He's more delicate than you ever expected. Gentler. Softer.

"Is that what you want?" You moan as his lips yours, nails scratching up his throat, remembering how much he'd liked it the night before. He whines a little into the kiss. "Wanna make me feel good?"

He nods. "Wanna be the reason you cum."

His hands sink further into your jeans. Slip beneath your underwear. You're like fucking silk on his fingertips. Incredibly sodden silk, but silk nonetheless. Exquisite.

Yoongi presses his body into yours, and you can feel his bulge against your tummy. No matter how badly you appear to want him, he wants you more. Always has done.

What a devastating achievement this is. Yoongi finally has the girl he's wanted in the palm of his hand, lungs stuttering her chest - but it's tarnished.

All he ever wanted was to love you. Not to fuck you. Sure, it'd be an inevitable side-effect, not one he'd ever complain about, but this just... wasn't how he'd envisioned it.

He's not sure that he could classify what he feels now as love. It's something quite similar, yes, but it's tainted. The waters he's treading are murky, as if something could pull him under at any time. A little bit of seaweed, maybe, wrapping up around his ankle, seeping up his legs like the ribbons of ballet shoes, pulling him down to dance on the ocean floor.

He'd let it, he thinks, if it meant he got to dance with you.

It's when your hands creep to the top of his trousers that he knows he's won. Knows that you do want this, too. Want him.

The second your hand wraps around his length, warm and stiff in your palm, he's ready.

You'd come undone with one another the night before. Used each other. It was self-serving. Self-gratifying. But now?

He's going to be the reason you come undone. His movements. His hands. Him. All him.

The way he guides you through his apartment is sweet. Careful, and gentle; his back is to the walls just in case he knocks into them. Keeps you protected.

And that's exactly what Yoongi is; a safety net.

But as he gets you on his bed - gets you undressed, gets his lips in places he only could have dreamt of, his tongue on your skin, teeth nipping - it's easy to forget that the safety net is still suspended a few meters above ground. You're not entirely secure.

The way Yoongi cradles your jaw makes you think you are, though. He always asks permission. Never takes a chance. Is vocal not for the sake of it, but to make sure that you always have an out. He wants this, wants you, but only because he's convinced you want him too.

Let me eat your pussy, baby. Is that okay? Will you turn over for me? That's it. God, yeah like that. You're so fucking good at that. Wait, wait- no. I'll cum. Don't wanna cum yet. Sit on my face. Shut up, no, I don't care. Maybe I want you to suffocate me. God. Taste so fucking good. That's it. Grind. On my face, baby. All over it. Look at how hard you made me.

And how can you refuse his requests?

Yoongi doesn't hide what he likes. Likes you. Likes you on top. Your hand around his throat. The way your nails feel against his skin. Would really like for you to leave a mark but he always grabs onto your hand whenever he thinks that you might. It's a reminder: his body isn't yours.

His heart might be, but who cares about that?

You don't, clearly, and so nor does he. He'll take what you give him.

And what a gift it is; clammy bodies, dulcet moans, whines of his name.

Yoongi's thought about this so many times, but he's never realised how good it would feel; what it would be like to hear you giggle while he's pushing himself inside you. Had never realised that you'd kiss his temples when he bottoms out, or that you'd whisper his name like a fucking bible verse. Never considered that you'd be so tight around him that he'd spend a fair while warming his cock inside of you, kissing you slowly as you adjust to his size. Never thought you'd taste so sweet, sound so serene.

Never thought he'd get this.

But he did.

And so now he gets it. Gets why that blonde-haired prick couldn't stay away. Gets why he wanted Yoongi to know how well he'd been fucking you - because now it's the only thing Yoongi wants to do, too.

Wants you. Wants you. Wants you.

Wants you in his bed, on his floor, in his shower. Wants you in the GS25 stock room, wants you out back in one of the cars he's working on. Wants you in every way he can get you.

Wishes he hadn't taken so long to act on it.

Because he knows that he can never really have you, now.

It's why he's letting himself indulge on this occasion. He knows what he's doing is wrong, but as far as he can see it, it's a once in a lifetime. He'll never get the chance again.

Never get you sat on his cock like you are now, never get to watch the light that peaks through his half-closed blinds illuminating your features, never get your cheeks all rosy and dimpled like this ever again. Never gonna hold your bare hips as you grind against him, never gonna pull on your wrist to bring your chest flat to his, never gonna kiss you through another orgasm.

But for now, he does. Bucks his hips, whines your name, tells you he's there, tells you - oh god, like that, baby - he's gonna cum. Fuck.

And so you meet him there. Rub delicate circles on your swollen cunt, bringing yourself to release just when he does. The thin layer of latex between you protects you from becoming his, but it all feels the same. The way your heart beats. The way he kisses you. It all feels the fucking same.

His arms wrap around your back. Hold you tightly. A kiss is pressed into your shoulder; up your neck.

The guilt that you expect to arrive never comes.

It will do, eventually - but much later on. His will come in the depths of the night, when he's sleeping beside his girlfriend, too much of a coward to tell her that he's betrayed her.

You think yours will come in the cold light of day a few months from now, when you finally let your brain process everything you've been through.

He tells you he's sorry, cock still buried inside of you, and you shake your head. Tell him you're sorry, too.

"What if I don't forgive you?" He teases, trying to lighten the mood - but you almost think he means it.

"Good," you smile. "It would be good if you don't."

You trace the vein that runs down his arm, and forge some faux sense of intimacy. You're playing house, but you can't play forever. Always have to go back to reality at some point.

This point comes half an hour later; Yoongi shirtless in a pair of sweats, leaning against his door frame toying with loose strands of your hair. He wants to kiss you. "Do you regret it?"

You want to kiss him, too. "Do you?"

The way you ask is so light and airy that Yoongi still feels like he's floating. The only thing he wants to weigh him down is your body on his.

"No."

Your want is growing too large, so you look down to avoid his gaze. Yoongi notices a lash on your cheek. A wish. He should reach for it. Collect it on his thumb, tell you to blow it away.

But he already knows what you'll wish for. Who.

And so he doesn't give you the chance. Hopes the wind will steal it from you.

"Don't be a stranger," he tells you as you go. His lips are plump, annoyed with his brain at the lack of kisses stolen from you before you left.

You lie. Tell him that you won't be. Say you'll see him soon.

Both of you know that you won't.

And it's only confirmed when you get into your car - breath heavy, eyes warm, tears verging - and you spot fucking Jieun walking up the road towards Yoongi's apartment. She's carrying a punnet of tangerines. Wears her hair tied into a half ponytail like you used to do.

This. Now. Yeah, this is when the guilt comes.

It makes so much fucking sense. Of course they'd have ended up together without you in the way to fuck everything up like you're so bloody good at. You wait until she's inside his apartment complex to start the car up, and fucking pray that Yoongi's gone to freshen up, that he's hidden the condom in the trash, that his lips won't taste like you.

Oh god, it's all so fucked.

"What have I done?" You berate yourself, head resting on the top of your steering wheel.

Whatever has happened has happened. You can't take it back. Nor can Yoongi. Just a fact of life now: Min Yoongi has fucked you. And you've fucked his life up.

You dart through town, giving little to no shit about the speed limits nor the unwritten rules of the roads, and find yourself cleaning tears off your cheeks with the back of your hand. You're not crying, not really. Not intentionally. It's just kind of happening.

That's your excuse for everything these days. It just happened.

The radio is off, and the roads are smooth beneath your tyres, but everything just feels so fucking loud. The engine barely makes a rumble but it feels like it's roaring at you. Screaming.

And then you are, too.

Screaming at the world; why it had to be this way. Why you're incapable of making good decisions. Why you couldn't have just stayed in Busan with the boy who'd stained you red with the colour of his love that ended up being nothing more than a little lie.

By the time you get to Kang's, you really are sobbing. It's in the way your shoulders shake; chest tightens. That's the issue with going back to your family. You're a frightened little girl all over again. Out of your depth. No fucking clue what you're doing. Just trying to feel something. Anything. Anyone.

For a moment, it had worked. And now everything is broken again.

You twist the keys in the ignition; let the engine cool before you pull yourself together. Pull down the sun visor, check yourself in the mirror. Check for signs of weakness. Grab a little lipstick from the centre console. Your eyes aren't all that bad. There's a little blush on your face, but there's plausible deniability. If anyone questions if you've been crying, you can blame it on windburn. Or tell them to fuck off and mind their own business. One of the two.

A deep breath settles in your sternum. You're not who you were a minute ago. You can do this.

Shoulders rolled back, you hold your head high as you enter the boxing club. The TV is playing in the background, Seokjin and Namjoon sat up by the sofas. They're surprised to see you, but it's not entirely out of the blue. They knew you'd be back.

Jimin clocks you as he's grabbing a water, and nods. You don't nod back.

And despite the fact you refuse to look at him as you enter the boxing club, Jungkook knows.

He's not entirely sure of what he knows, he's just aware of the fact you aren't quite yourself. There's an elegance to how you carry yourself and now is just the same, but... there's something. He can't pinpoint it. Can't figure it out.

But of course he can't.

It's a matter of the heart, not the mind.

In the same vein, it's not a matter at all. He doesn't care about you. Not like that. Doesn't give a shit if you're hurting, or if you're upset, or if someone has been unkind but-

Oh, fuck it.

He does care. He does, he does, he does. He cares so much. So, so much. So much that it feels like his heart has been ripped from his chest just looking at you. There's blood pooling all around him. Kids fucking dance in it like puddles. You watch from afar with a smile and a shrug, holding his still beating heart in your hands. You did this, love.

Jungkook closes his eyes. Shakes the image from his head. Tells himself to stay off the hallucinogenics for awhile.

His eyes find you again as you walk towards Seokjin. Jungkook is down by the bags, unwrapping his hands after a heavy session. There's sweat gleaming on his skin, staining pretty patterns down the back of his shirt. He's pleased you'd arrived now. Knows he looks like shit, but also knows how much you liked fucking him after a workout. Would tell him not to shower. Was the pheromones. Some shit like that. Drove you fucking wild.

The pleasure he takes in your timing is forgotten about when he realises just hollow your eyes are. Finds himself actually wanting a shower - admittedly, with you. It was always where you'd find the most comfort together, and that's what he wants. Just wants to fix whatever's gone wrong for you today.

Instead, he just walks toward the sofas. Doesn't like not being a part of the discussion. There are a few nods. Slight deliberation - and then Seokjin calls the Jungkook and Jimin in to the sofas regardless.

"Taking a vote," he says. It's already been discussed in private between the boys, but no formal plans have been put in place.

You choose to stand. Jungkook sinks into the leather of the sofa in front of you. Avoids eye contact. You pretend to look at the men around you, but you don't really take any of them in. You're unfocused. Disillusioned; disassociating. Daydreaming of the beach, where the water is clear and the sand is warm.

And then, you do let your eyes fall on his. They're so wide and worried. Jungkook is certain he's never seen you like this. Something isn't aligning. Hasn't been since you left, but he thought things would fall back into place when you returned.

You okay? he says silently.

You look him up. Look him down. Part your lips - only to close them again once Seokjin starts talking.

"All those in favour of working together?"

One by one they raise their hands. Seokjin first, then Jimin. Namjoon looks around. Shuffles uncomfortably. Doesn't look at you as he raises his hand.

"Kook?" Seokjin asks.

"It's a bad fuckin' idea," he says, eyes never once dropping from yours. He's not telling the boys. He's telling you.

"Your forte," you say sweetly, but there's no smile on your lips.

And he just nods.

"Yeah. It is."

He raises his hand.

Full house.

"Alright, then," Seokjin beams. "Let's get to work."

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