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bonvoyagenoona · 2 years

Text

blackout | jjk

Pairings: Jungkook x female reader

Rating: 18+ | Mature | Explicit

Word Count: 16k | read on ao3

Synopsis: You’ve just been laid off, and all you want to do is eat some dinner, curl into bed, and forget. Unfortunately, the neighborhood block party is tonight, and the festivities turn downright chaotic when the entire city loses power. Don’t fret, though. Jungkook will help take your mind off things for a while.

Genres | Content Warnings | Themes: Strangers to lovers, FLUFF with a capital FLUFF, Yugyeom makes an appearance, humor, comfort, smut (starts out with sweet, vanilla sex and masturbation, turns into biting, hickeys, fingering, oral sex [female receiving, male receiving], edging, protected vaginal sex, playful spanking, overstimulation, spitting), drinking / drinking games, drug use (weed edibles).

Preview:

Eyes wet with steaming, streaming tears, you let the bodies push you back.

Back to the elevator.

Back down to the lobby.

And back to the curb outside.

Where he looks up and finds your twisted, nauseated expression.

“Hey,” he says softly.

You didn’t see him when you stepped back onto the sidewalk. Even now, you only see him in parts.

Bent fingers clutch his hoodie’s drawstring, pulling left, then right. The denim of the jacket over it shifts slightly as he does. Full lips rest against each other lightly, an interrupted, absent-minded whistle reforming into more words.

“You dropped something.”

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Thanks and hope you enjoy!

What makes a good manager? Empathy? Organization? Know-how? Whatever mix of qualities, are they innate, or does it come from steadily and patiently rising through the ranks with your allies? Are good leaders born or made?

You don’t think you’ll ever be sure of what makes a good manager. But what you are definitely sure about is what makes a bad manager.

Bad managers are the type of people who, when given a choice, elect to have you come in for your office job all week for your usual 8 to 5, and wait until Friday afternoon to inform you that you have been let go, even though they got the call from leadership on Monday morning.

You grumble as you shift your cardboard box of belongings to your other arm in order to make the last leg of your journey, every single one of your pores emptying twenty-fold their volume into the fibers of your polyester blend. Couldn’t you have been sacked in the fall? On top of having an additional couple of months to figure your shit out, you wouldn’t be drenched.

It’s 7 by the time you’re stomping around the corner to your block. There’s a family-sized bag of pita chips, a pail of hummus, and an edible patiently waiting for you.

If only there weren’t so many people blocking the way to your door.

Crumpled ghosts of flyers float past you. Their sans-serif font and centered alignment. The drawing of an old-school boombox with music spilling out of it. The date. The goddamned time.

“Fuck,” you sigh, unable to hear even yourself under millennial R&B samples carrying Gen Z slang.

Shoulders slumping, you try to trudge through the crowd that doesn’t part, draining energy quickly by the time you make your sixth and seventh attempt, even using the sharp corners of your box to try to snowplow your way through the increasingly drunken bodies that won’t feel any pain until the morning.

Eyes wet with steaming, streaming tears, you let the bodies push you back.

Back to the elevator.

Back down to the lobby.

And back to the curb outside.

Where he looks up and finds your twisted, nauseated expression.

“Hey,” he says softly.

You didn’t see him when you stepped back onto the sidewalk. Even now, you only see him in parts.

“You dropped something.”

The Hulk bobblehead, given to you in celebration of getting this job in the first place, proves to be more lasting than your presence in the office.

When you see it in a puddle by your feet, your heart sinks a little.

And, ever-so-slightly, so does the box in your grip, as you jostle around to allow yourself to reach down and pick it up.

Before you can, though, bent fingers have let go of the drawstring and curl around The Hulk’s head instead. Green abs and purple shorts wiggle from its spring, despite what seems to be The Hulk’s unrelenting protest.

You look up at the owner of those bent fingers, form crouched in front of you, still only able to perceive him in parts. Four wrinkles at the bridge of his nose. An amused smirk.

“Ha ha!”

He studies The Hulk’s face, and his right brow falls into a slanted line in perfect mimicry.

“Raaawwrrr!”

The Hulk’s body wiggles violently as bent fingers shake him back and forth.

“HULK SMAAAASH!”

You don’t mean to smile.

His smile is about to meet you too, but his eyes start to take up more space, widening at the sight of slightly shiny lines on your cheeks, carving your skin out like flowing rivers cutting through sienna rock.

“Hey! It’s OK!”

A sleeve rises into view. It moves in quick, small motions, back and forth.

“Just gotta c-clean him up a little here and—”

The Hulk suddenly grows ten times in size, now dangling on its spring, right in front of your face.

“See?? N-no harm done!!”

You sniffle.

Bent fingers gently set The Hulk back into the box, in a gap between your empty, gray mesh pen cup and your prized, powder blue stapler.

You sniffle again.

You love stapling.

So final, so sure, that satisfying, crisp metal crunch!

You think you hear that crunch as this stranger’s bright eyes are putting it all together.

As are you, bits and pieces of this stranger now stitching together into a concerned but welcoming face, much too kind, and dangerously easy to open up to. Especially for someone in your state.

Your fingers dig into your cardboard box.

“Thanks,” you say, relieved that your voice sounds so steady.

He lifts his eyes from the powder blue stapler and watches as you lift your upper arm to your right cheek.

You dab your tears.

You frown at the sight of black streaks on your blouse.

And then you startle at the feel of denim against your left cheek.

You watch as this stranger takes a step back.

The fact that he doesn’t seem to notice or care about the black streaks on his sleeve makes you care less about the black streaks on yours.

You feel a little lighter. From what it looks like, about three wisps of Pat McGrath FetishEyes lighter.

“Sorry,” he says, “I just—”

“No, that was… that was nice of you,” you say, starting to become impressed at just how steady your voice is. “Thank you.”

He nods. “Can I help you with anything else?” He holds his hands out a little, wrists coming out of his sleeves. “Take that box for you?”

“I’m good,” you say.

He’s kind for softening his doubtful look, but his head tilt gives his thoughts away.

“Really,” you insist.

And you insist to yourself that you really don’t mean to smile. You’re surprised that you do.

He mirrors it, his eyes following his lips, which follow yours, copying perfectly the slightly sad pout that you’re too aware that you’re making, and that tells him that his head tilt is absolutely warranted.

“If you say so.”

Your smile fades a little as you look back down to the box, still in your grip, resting against your stomach.

You look back up and watch as he curiously peruses the box’s content.

“What is all this stuff?” he asks.

You look back over at the crowd now spilling out of your apartment building.

“Um…”

Your brain is moving too fast, keeping you from being able to expand on the complexity of the matter. The words settling in the back of your throat are reduced to grade school-level syntax that matches the grade school-level emotions that you’re trying to hold at bay.

This is all Desk Stuff.

Desk Stuff belongs on a Desk.

But you no longer have a Desk.

You no longer even have an Office.

Or a Job.

And all you seem to be able to do about it, at least, for right now, is cry.

“Just… stuff.”

How is your voice still so steady when your stomach and chest are churning and burning, flip-flopping positions in your body in an attempt to escape this disaster?

To escape you?

He seems to realize now. There’s even a hint of — ugh — pity in his eyes.

You want to explain that you’re stronger than this. It’s just that your Job, and your Office, and your Desk were so rare. Beautifully, wonderfully, hilariously rare. Just like your powder blue stapler is rare, and it’s even rarer to see it not at the ready under a mix of sunlight and fluorescent lighting but settled against hastily packed bits and bobs in a box open to the night air.

“You need to keep any of it?” he asks.

The realization feels weirdly cold in your chest. “No,” you say.

“You want to keep any of it?”

You shrug.

His head straightens suddenly.

“Not even The Hulk??”

He looks so excited.

You really, really don’t mean to smile. You’re surprised that you do. That you still can.

You even chuckle, softly, three tiny stops and starts of that steady, warm voice.

“Why? You want him?”

“Well, y-yeah — he’s The Hulk!!”

You hold the box out and up to him.

“Take him, then. Give him a nice home.”

Bent fingers wrap around The Hulk’s head. He lifts The Hulk out of the box and places it into the left chest pocket of his denim jacket, patting it caringly, for safekeeping.

The Hulk’s eyes peek out at you over the lip.

“Now you pick something,” he tells you.

You look up from The Hulk’s eyes and stare questioningly into the eyes of this alarmingly kind stranger.

“You wanna keep at least one thing, right?” he asks. He peeks back down into the box. “Anything important? Or, just, y’know.” He looks back at you. “Special?”

You think again of the satisfying crunch of metal.

And then you smile down at your powder blue stapler.

You hug the box against your chest with one arm and pull the stapler out with your free hand.

He smiles again, and claps his hands with glee.

The Hulk nods.

And, as you nod back, you catch a glimpse of the alleyway.

Your gaze settles on the too-bright blue paint sadly used for something as putrid as a dumpster.

Your feet take you there, and they, along with your calves, and thighs, and arms, and shoulders, and back, thank you immensely as you toss all the rest inside.

That box looks so small now, amongst everything else. The longer you stare at it, you can’t even really see it anymore, as it gets lost in so many things that also don’t matter.

With your arms free, you get the impulse to pull your phone from your back pocket. But you don’t want to see the flurry of messages that are probably waiting for you.

Instead, you turn and walk back to the curb, where he is still standing and watching you.

Your feet take you back to him, arm at your side, the stapler fold hanging off your finger, its handle and base taking turns swinging as you walk, powder blue grazing the side of your polyester-covered thigh.

You stand in front of him, feeling so much lighter.

“Uh, thanks,” you say. “Again.”

He smiles.

Now that the weight is off of your shoulders, you can take in more. The sound of street traffic buzzing around you. Honks, and music, and chatter.

The crowd around your apartment building has doubled if not tripled in size.

“Live here?” he asks.

You nod, and your shoulders sink. “But the block party completely slipped my mind.” You sigh and wonder how long it will take for the crowd to dissipate. “All I wanna do is eat some dinner, curl into bed, and forget today ever happened.”

“What’s stopping you?” he asks.

You furrow your brow and gesture to the drunken, obnoxious mass blocking your way in.

“Just gotta fight your way through a little, is all,” he says. “C’mon!”

Instead of complaining about having to do anything other than what you want to, you figure that following this guy, with his broad frame, tall stature, and friendly face, will help you work smart and not hard.

So you follow him.

He moves through the crowd with ease, swimming with the current, instead of fighting his way upstream.

He offers you protection from the worst hits. Errant slaps and elbows here and there as people reach for each other. A near-collision with a keg stand.

But people still cut in front of you. By the fourth or fifth instance, you wonder why this always happens when you’re in a crowd, or whether you can consider it a “cut” when you don't even seem to register on people’s radar.

You watch as his head bobs along, nearly out of sight. And then, when he’s too far away, you start to feel the tide turning again, pulling you back out into the vast ocean.

You’re nearly all the way back by the lobby doors when his face pops out of the crowd.

“Hey!” he exclaims.

He throws his arm out, hand open, palm upturned. A life saver on a rope thick, straight, and strong.

You grab it.

You watch as his hand turns over and determinedly pulls you into him.

And you lock eyes briefly before he swirls you around and puts you in front of the crowd, daring you to meet it face-to-face.

He stands behind you but places his hands firmly on your shoulders.

You grip the stapler tight in your hand.

And then, with his guidance, you start to move through the crowd.

Part the crowd.

It’s much easier than you thought. But you knew that. You used to do this all the time, without even thinking. Shoulders back. Hair tossed just so. Beaming with all the wise, unthreatened confidence that years of a magical mix of expertise and bullshit have bestowed upon you.

They, and he, bring you right next to the elevators, and, thinking this is it, you go to punch the button.

But he steers you toward the stairs instead.

He leans down into you, pressing against your back, his lips brushing against your right ear.

“Let’s go this way.”

The music and chatter is so loud that even though you feel his chest straining, it sounds like a whisper.

You think about what’s waiting for you at home.

The chips. The hummus. The last three squares of your weed-infused chocolates. All designed to help you settle your mind and forget about this whole, wretched day.

Then again, maybe there are other ways to forget.

You shove your powder stapler into your pocket and nod, but it doesn’t matter. He’s already angling you toward the stairs, and chases your steps as you both climb.

You feel his hands slide down your shoulders, then arms, then into the crooks of your slightly folded elbows, your right hand still touting your stapler, your left hand not fully grasping but angled to feel along the railing so that you have something to hold onto if you trip over one of these people sitting on the steps.

He’s right by your side. Grabs hold of you to help keep you steady when someone suddenly moves to get up. When he lets you go at the top of the stairs, you're almost sad the building has elevators at all.

“You know the Chans?” he asks.

You register the smell of egg rolls and dumplings and fries and cheese and sugar before you notice that the people who happen to be on this floor are too busy stuffing their faces to really talk. It’s quieter here. Thankfully.

“No,” you mumble, as he walks next to you, moving in lockstep down the hall and slightly to the right. “I don’t really know anybody else in the building.”

“Just moved in?”

“Been here three… wait… four?” You grimace. “Years?”

His eyebrows rise at the speed with which his own mother would race a cake over to every new neighbor on their street.

“I’ll introduce you!” he says, swinging around you and standing perpendicular to your path to let you know that this next, slightly ajar door will lead you to The Chans.

He knocks on the door.

It opens, suddenly, and fully, and a woman grins happily at the both of you before settling into his warm, eager gaze.

“Jungkook-ah,” she chides playfully, “I told you to come as soon as the party started! We’re already almost out of—”

He — or, well, Jungkook, apparently — rushes inside the apartment toward the kitchen, leaving you standing there in the hallway.

The woman turns to you, still carrying fondness in her eyes. “Hi!”

“Hi,” you say, as pleasantly as you can.

The woman takes in the sight of you, though she frowns when she looks down by your hip.

“Is… that… a stapler in your pocket?”

Your brain starts to move too fast again.

Desk. Office. Job.

But then she giggles.

“Or are you just happy to see me?”

Jungkook mumbles something resembling an introduction after you follow “Miff-iff Cham” through the busy, glowing living room and into the kitchen.

“Did you even think to get your friend a drink??” Mrs. Chan asks, reaching not for the plenty of plastic flatware but into the cupboards for a porcelain bowl.

Jungkook mumbles something else, a chomped egg roll raised to his lips, cheeks bulging out, and a bit of fried wrapper sticking out of the corner of his mouth.

“This boy,” Mrs. Chan laughs, shaking her head. “He devours everything in sight!” As she talks, she walks down the line of her counter, scooping up a bit of everything from her various pots and pans and plopping it into your bowl. “If we didn’t feed him real food, he’d eat garbage off the street! Like one of those fat pigeons!”

Jungkook protests, still unintelligible, but wounded, and passionate, given that flakes of egg roll wrapper fly out of his mouth.

“Please, Jungkook, you’re so sensitive! Have you seen you?” Mrs. Chan says with a roll of her eyes. “Although, if you keep inhaling these egg rolls…”

She softens at Jungkook’s worried expression.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to call you fat. I just meant— Ugh, what else eats tra— Like a raccoon, then. How’s that, huh? Jungkook-ah? My little fluffy, sneaky, grabby-hands raccoon?”

Mrs. Chan shoves the now-full bowl into your open hands and makes grabby-hands with her own, pinching his full cheeks, cooing more… weird?... but sweet, raccoon-based compliments at him, which makes him smile happily, and close his eyes at her caring touch.

You bring the bowl up to your face and breathe in the mouth-watering scent of all of this delicious, home-cooked, made-with-love morsels of amazing food.

For once today, someone has served you a pile of nothing but goodness.

You smile gratefully and take the chopsticks that Mrs. Chan gives to you. And then you take your place next to Jungkook, backs to the sink, both of you leaning back slightly as you eat.

“Now, I didn’t catch your name,” Mrs. Chan tells you, stirring a spoon into one of the pots.

As you finally say it, you can’t help but feel Jungkook paying you close attention — such close attention, mind you, that you swear he’s nearly pressing his smile onto your cheek.

“I’m sorry I haven’t introduced myself,” you go on, flashing a look at Jungkook before adding, “I’ve just been so busy…”

Desk. Office. Job.

The rest of the sentence that you were going to say travels down your throat like the unchewed walnut that slipped by.

You cough. Clear your throat the best you can. And pick up what you can recover.

“…at work.”

“Ah, well, whatever! I’m happy we get to meet now,” Mrs. Chan says lightly.

The air with which she says it. So ethereal. It makes you feel a little better.

“I’m Chan Jia,” she goes on, “and my husband Feng and I have lived here pretty much all our lives, and, uh, we really like to cook! Even when half the city isn’t on our doorstep.”

Your eyes hang wide. “You’re amazing at it,” you say, through cheeks fuller than Jungkook’s. “The walnut chicken in particular is, mmm, god, so good.”

Mrs. Chan beams with pride. “Glad you like it! And that you came so hungry.”

More people spill into the Chans’ living room, and Mrs. Chan reaches for some of the paper plates and plastic flatware.

“Get her something to drink, Jungkook-ah!”

He nods obediently and yells out an earnest, “Thank you!”

You scarf down the last bite in your bowl and start to calculate what seconds you want — definitely the walnut chicken, and maybe the lo mein — when Jungkook sticks a fresh egg roll in your face.

“C’mon!”

He stuffs the egg roll into your mouth and takes your empty bowl from your hands, setting it in the filling kitchen sink.

He takes your right wrist and tugs on it, leading you back out to the hall.

You bite down on the egg roll and catch the other half in your left hand, grumbling, “I wasn’t done!” as you desperately try to chew and get the delicious pork filling and perfect golden crackles down your gullet.

“Oh, sorry,” Jungkook says. “Seemed like you were.”

“Well!” You raise your left hand and bite into the second half. “I wasn’t!”

“Well, your bowl was empty, and you emptied it kinda fast, like, shockingly fast, so I thought it was time for dessert—”

You polish off the egg roll as your feet plant themselves in place. “What is this? Who even are you anyway??”

He smiles. “I’m Jungkook!”

“Yeah, caught that,” you say, narrowing your eyes. “Seriously, though! I don’t really know who you—”

Someone splits the two of you, excited to bring one of two waffle ice cream cones to someone downstairs.

“—w-who you are, or if you even live here,” you continue, watching as they round the corner, jogging down the steps with what looks like pistachio ice cream in one hand and some kind of chocolate in the other.

You turn back to Jungkook.

“And all these people? I don’t know who they are, and I just really—”

“But now you know Mrs. Chan,” Jungkook says, “and I guess by extension you kinda know Mr. Chan. There was a photo of him on the left wall by the—”

A group of young girls giggle as they exit one of the other apartments on this floor, each of them carrying baskets of freshly baked cookies.

Jungkook playfully yoink! s a couple from the last girl’s basket, and she teasingly slaps Jungkook’s arm as he feigns pain.

They laugh at each other, and then, he wiggles his eyebrows and nods upward.

“Oppa!” she whines.

He brings his shoulders up to his earlobes and wiggles his eyebrows even harder.

She rolls her eyes and hands him two more cookies, and she scurries to rejoin her group.

You glare at him.

He blinks at you. Pushes out his lips.

“So…”

He holds out his arm.

“Is it time for dessert?”

You frown.

He wiggles the cookie around.

“Huuuuuh?”

Begrudgingly, you snatch the cookie that he’s offering.

Chocolate chip with toffee chunks and gooey caramel in the center.

It’s goddamn incredible.

“Is everyone on this floor a chef?!” you exclaim in surprise, crumbs flinging from your lips.

Jungkook looks up at the ceiling again as he counts. His unfolding pinky denotes The Chans in 2A, duh. His ring finger counts the Jeups and their three lovely daughters in 2D. His middle finger stands for the Gal brothers and their new ice cream machine, or, well, old ice cream machine, since their shop got the new one—

“Kinda, actually,” Jungkook answers, looking back at you, still counting the others in his head while holding the three other cookies between his thumb and index finger. “Although I guess the Jeups and the Gals are more… bakers? But I don’t think you say that for ice cream.”

He plumps his bottom lip, chin wrinkling.

“What do you call someone who makes ice cream for a living?”

You roll your eyes as you polish off your cookie.

“Hey, I thought we were doing it?” he asks. “Shoot. Maybe I’m doing it wrong?”

“Doing what?”

“What you wanted to do.”

Toffee and chocolate are swirling together heavenly in your mouth, but you keep glaring at him. You layer more fire into it. Frown harder. Scowl meaner. If you look angry enough, maybe he’ll give you a second cookie out of fear, and you don’t have to admit how boggled you are.

“You said that all you wanted to do was eat some dinner, curl into bed, and forget,” Jungkook recalls. “So we’re taking care of the eating part.”

You pull back a little on the glare.

“I would’ve appreciated getting to eat more of that walnut chicken.”

Jungkook’s eyes and grin thin out.

“We can go back. Or…?”

He holds out another cookie to you.

Which you slowly take.

And in return, you let go of the glower.

You turn the cookie over in your hands. Raise it to your lips.

Jungkook nods encouragingly.

You take a bite.

Peanut butter. With little chocolate candies. That are also filled with peanut butter.

Your pesky smile makes another reappearance.

“Now,” Jungkook says triumphantly, biting into two cookies at once and recalling, “Mrs. Chan said,” as he gets those cookies down to half-size with his huge bites, “ god this is fucking good,” smacking as he talks, “to get you a drink. So c’mon!”

He holds out his hand again. Devoid of any cookies.

You take it anyway.

And he leads you to the elevator.

“Can I get a copy of the itinerary?” you ask, puzzled by all your traipsing.

Jungkook drums on the elevator doors with his knuckles before giving the right one a slap and pushing the call button. “It’s just block party physics,” he explains. “You saw all those kegs and coolers when you came in, right?”

You nod.

“Gotta keep beer on the ground floor. Nice way to say hi to people. And nobody wants to lug all that shit up all these floors. But people are doing stuff in their apartments, too. More drinks, and food, and games.”

You take a second to take Jungkook in from toe to head. White, worn sneakers, with blue details. Baggy pants. Thin, white hoodie. Denim jacket. Fluffed hair, crinkled and thin eyes, wrinkled nose, and an easy, big smile. Like he’s just hanging out at home.

“Party physics,” you repeat.

The elevator doors open, and you both step in, Jungkook leaning against the railing in the back, and you facing him with a smirk.

“Of which you just happen to be a scholar?”

Jungkook grins. “That, and, uh…”

He gestures to one of the flyers on the elevator bulletin board behind you. It’s not as crumpled as the ones that blew by you earlier. But it is drooping, the tape holding up its top two corners having lost its stickiness over the past few weeks.

You smooth the paper out.

And then you reach into your pocket.

For your powder blue stapler.

You staple each corner into the cork, and you see what Jungkook is talking about. Below the boombox drawing and general details is a whole spreadsheet of details. A murder mystery party on floor twelve. A dance party on floor seven. Karaoke on floor six. Movies on floor eight.

Nothing on floor nine. You’re one of just a few people who live there. That floor doesn’t get great light, or a great view, facing the north, ignored side of the block. But that doesn’t matter to you. You like it quiet. That’s why you’re all there.

For some reason, you feel a little sick at the thought of riding up to floor nine.

So you’re grateful that you stop, for now, on floor five.

It boasts a crowd just a tad smaller than the one on the first floor, but the energy seems easier. Lively, but less brash.

When Jungkook sees your relieved smile, he takes it as a sign that he’s doing something right.

“Where should we start?” he asks, looking around at all the open doors. As you re-holster your stapler, his head darts left and right, checking your reaction with each option he presents.

“Board games! Ooh, OK, ‘ya seem to like that. We’ll put that on the list. We could also check out that poker game, which we passed back there. And there’s—”

You pull Jungkook’s arm toward you with such force that his nose bumps into your cheek. You laugh together, your eyes shining a bit brighter.

“That.”

You point.

“I wanna do that.”

Given your professional, cool-toned business separates; your seemingly strategic nature; your, quite frankly, super uptight vibe; and the way your eyes initially widened at the proposal to join the board game room, Jungkook wouldn’t have pegged you as someone who had even a passing interest in drinking games. Especially flip cup.

Yet, here you are, standing on top of Kim Yugyeom’s mother’s old kitchen table, the front of your blouse stained with sangria, and both of your hands victoriously pumping two empty, crushed plastic cups into the air.

Funny how the thing that always kept you from playing flip cup was the beer.

And you were extraordinary. How you downed each drink. How, like your voice has been so far this evening, you were able to stay so composed. How that gave you such an advantage with each flip. How everyone in the room cheered you on, shocked by how you hadn’t stuttered on a single cup. How Jungkook almost caught up, but you were able to rally and down two more full cups of sangria than you probably should have.

“Howwwww have I not plaaaaayed this gaaaaame before?!” you ask, delirious from your winner’s rush. And maybe the sangria.

“You haven’t?!” a laughing Yugyeom adds, as he helps you down from his table. “Would’ve thought you were a pro!”

A little unsteady on your feet, and happily so, you lean into him, melting at his strong form and touch before pouring into one of the chairs nearby.

“Alright there, champ?” Yugyeom chuckles.

He watches you wiggle happily in your seat, one strong wiggle forcing you to lean a bit too much to the right.

“Haha, fuck, let me get you some damn water!”

Jungkook lands in the chair next to you, propping you up and giggling at your blissful humming.

Your eyes meet his. “Oh, what’s this?” You raise your left hand up. “Hmm?” Your palm grazes the tip of his nose, and your eyes widen with excitement, as his widen to try to find out what’s wrong with your hand.

“Oh!” you smile.

Equally thrilled and perplexed, Jungkook moves to give you a high five?

But you dodge him with a grin.

“Uh-oh!”

Your wrist goes slack. Delighted, you do an arm wave, letting it flow through up to your shoulders, through to your trunk, and onwards to your other arm, which flows up and around from your side and around, down your opposite shoulder and through your forearm, fingers gathering to a point and tipping back Jungkook’s open forehead.

Jungkook lets out a spirited laugh that perks up your spine.

As you watch with interest, he furrows his brow and opens his mouth in fake offense. His head bobs forward, and he lets the wave travel throughout his entire body, each muscle isolation smoothing into the next.

He gets up and starts to dance, suddenly going rigid as he starts to pop and lock, hips moving with more precision than you would have anticipated, his baggy clothes suddenly looking sharp, his body halving, and The Hulk slipping out a little, bobbling along with him.

Yugyeom rejoins you, and him, cheering and catching the wave in his chest from Jungkook’s lightning rod of a hand and letting it travel through his black hoodie-covered torso, down to his legs, the frayed rips of his light blue jeans swaying as his muscles take turns relaxing and constricting, traveling back up to his other arm, and down to the hand that is holding two water bottles: one for Jungkook, and one for you.

You giggle and shiver as Yugyeom places the cold plastic against your neck, fingers grazing his as you take over the grip of the bottle.

This is… nice.

“What else can we play??” you ask brightly, letting the bottle linger for a moment before lifting it, and unscrewing the cap. “What other games are there?”

“Should probably slow down on the drinking ones,” Jungkook rightfully decides, as you start to slump again.

He takes a step back to you, and your left cheek rests on his right hip.

Feeling so comfortable, you close your eyes for a moment, missing Yugyeom’s intrigued smirk, and Jungkook’s helpless nose scrunch.

“Leaving so soon?” Yugyeom asks, tossing him the other bottle.

Jungkook looks down and notes your hazy, unfocused eyes, as well as your clumsy fingers still working at the water bottle cap.

“After this water break.”

“Well, swing by again later,” Yugyeom tells you, as your eyes flutter open. “I need to avenge my humiliated friend here. Or get the chance to, at least.”

Jungkook pouts. “Humiliated?”

“Only Jungkook can save himself,” you say, much too haughty for someone who has taken about thirty whole seconds to open a water bottle, “but depending on how tonight goes, I might take you on as another trophy. I mean victim. I mean opponent.”

Yugyeom shakes his head at your self-assuredness, looking over at Jungkook to see if he’s clocking this, and finding he’s only chuckling as you close your eyes and eagerly drink.

“Where’d you find her?” Yugyeom asks, as Jungkook looks back at him.

“Obviously by the dumpsters, given all the trash talk,” Jungkook jokes.

You choke on your water and laugh, the back of your hand rising to your lips as you open your eyes again and catch your breath.

“No, really,” Yugyeom goes on, smiling at you and shoving his hands into his back pockets, chest puffing out with a relaxing breath. “You live on the block?”

You point up at the ceiling. “Ninth floor.”

“The hermit floor?” Yugyeom asks, surprised.

You left your left shoulder from Jungkook’s hip and tilt your head toward it. “I crawled out of my cave today. And saw Jungkook on the curb.”

Yugyeom looks over at Jungkook again, who just smiles.

He meets Jungkook’s smile with a pleased chuckle.

“I mean it. Come back later. I still wanna hang.” He narrows his eyes at you and wiggles his eyebrows. “I want a go with the resident flip cup champ.”

You wink at him as you bring the water bottle back to your lips.

Before Yugyeom takes his leave, he reaches out his hand, slightly dampened from the condensation on those ice-cold water bottles, to Jungkook. Their right hands clasp together, and they bring their right shoulders forward to one another, chests bumping together tightly.

Yugyeom slaps Jungkook’s back.

He mumbles something.

Jungkook scoffs with a grin.

And then they part, Yugyeom flashing you another smile before he heads back toward his kitchen table.

Jungkook crouches down and wipes his hand on his thigh. You watch his fingers spreading across. His palm rubbing down toward his knee, and then back up again.

“Oh my god,” he says.

You straighten and snap your eyes to his, feeling caught. “What??”

“I think you’re…”

Jungkook shoots you an open-mouthed, told-you-so smile.

“…having fun??”

“Absolutely not,” you say, trying your best to sneer.

“You’re smiling!” Jungkook taps his finger on your cheek.

You swat his hand away, giggling and thinking fondly of him teasing those three girls with the cookies. You haven’t really stopped smiling since.

“You’re laaaugh-iiiiing!”

You roll your eyes. “So what if I am?”

Jungkook watches as you screw the water bottle’s cap back on and set it down, next to the right leg of your chair.

“Are you?” he asks gently. “H-having fun?”

He wants you.

To have fun, that is.

He wants you to have fun because you so clearly hadn’t earlier that day. He’s good at fun. At least, he’s always thought he is. In much the same way that Mrs. Chan is good at walnut chicken, and the Jeups are good at cookies, and the Gal brothers are good at ice cream.

He’s always thought that he’s been good at fun. Things have gotten a little busier, as life does. He hasn’t talked to as many people in a while. He definitely hasn’t gotten to swing by Yugyeom’s nearly as often, and he’s missed his check-ins with Yugyeom’s wonderful neighbors. While standing out there on the curb, peering up at your building, he wondered if he’d changed.

But, if you’re having fun, given the day that you’ve had, then that means he hasn’t.

He’s still good at fun.

Maybe if you knew this was kind of about him, it wouldn’t feel so strange for someone to want you to have fun when just a couple of hours ago, the bubble of your perfectly pleasant life burst at the discovery that people who celebrated your birthday, who clinked drinks with you at happy hour, who left you funny sticky notes on your desk, who shared the load when work got overwhelming — people who were supposedly invested in you — didn’t actually care all that much.

Do you even deserve it? Fun? When you are so easily discarded?

Jungkook clearly deserves it. He’s only just met you, by some dumpsters no less, and he’s still, inexplicably, trying so hard.

You feel your heavy heart pulling you under.

But then, you catch sight of The Hulk tucked into Jungkook’s pocket.

“I am.” You grin. “I am having a lot of fun.”

He brightens. Sits a little taller.

“Good!” His eyes close nearly all the way, and his two front teeth bunch up his lips. “I knew you were.”

He jumps to his feet. “Feeling up to more games? Maybe those board games?”

The sangria is starting to catch you, mixing with the swirl of emotions bogging down your heavy, heavy heart. You need to do something to let it out.

“Which floor had the karaoke?” you ask. “Six?”

“Quit hogging the mic!”

You spin around and scream the next lyrics at this surly, thin-lipped man, mashing whatever he can into a lour look of extreme disapproval.

The next part of this song is iconic, and masterful. You know each of the vocal parts in the lush swell of the breakdown, but this occasion calls for the throughline, the main melody, to drive the point home.

“NEVER GONNA GET IT NEVER GONNA GET IT!” you belt, pointing at Thin Lips, shimmying as you dance around him in a circle.

“NEH! VER GONNA GET IT NEVER GONNA GET IT!”

You put a resonant sting on the syncopated quarter notes that carry into the next measure, tapping your toes on each eighth-note of this manifesto.

“NEH!!! VER GONNA GET IT NEVER GONNA GET IT!”

Exaggerating even more, you pull your lips into a mocking pout, and you descend down the harmonic scale.

“NEHHHH-VER GONNA GET IT—”

Brazen, and drawing a bit of power from the room clapping and laughing around you, you grab the handle of your stapler, aim it at Thin Lips’ cleft chin, and clap the hammer against the anvil on each note.

“WOO-WOO-WOO-WOOOOOOO!!!!”

“THE FUCK—”

“Shik.”

You aren’t sure when Jungkook got up from his seat on the Hans-in-6F’s couch, but now, he’s next to you, arms folded, chest slightly bouncing from holding in his laughter.

Thin-lipped Shik glares at him, and you start circling around Jungkook instead, singing the second half of the breakdown a little softer, but swaying your stapler in the air.

Jungkook’s eyes, which have been following you this whole time, spread out to the rest of the room, everyone chanting and clapping along. “We’re all having a good time.”

“She’s sung like a hundred songs!” Shik protests. “I want a turn!”

At the whiff of vodka that follows, Jungkook negotiates, “One more song, alright?”

He speaks kindly, with the kind of smile that people born with goodness and light at their core can share. But he puffs himself up when he says it. He unfolds his arms, and his chest inflates. He flexes his right hand. Just in case.

Shik sighs. “Fine. But make it something pleasant. She’s been screaming for the past hour.”

He takes Jungkook’s seat on the couch, seemingly discontent unless he’s taking things from other people.

But it’s fine. The energy is dissipating anyway, En Vogue starting to decrescendo and queue up your next show-stopping performance.

“Hey.” Jungkook’s unflexed right hand lands softly on your shoulder. “Diva.”

You turn and smile at him.

“Wanna do one last song?”

Panting, and jamming your stapler back into your pocket, you slow your dancing feet to a mere sway, pouring your weight to the left, then to the right.

“OK,” you say, mind starting to wander, “but let me pick something different.” Your eyes widen a bit. “Would you wanna sing something with me?”

Jungkook beams. “Yeah!”

As you scroll through your private YouTube playlist of karaoke faves, he stands a little closer. Looks over your shoulder with curiosity. Giggles softly when your thumb tugs at ones that he likes, too.

He smells good.

“Ooh!”

You startle back at his sudden exclamation and bump into his chest.

And he just lets you.

“You, uh, know this one ?” you ask, thumb hovering over a picture of two silhouettes.

“I love that one.”

“Me too.”

A shared glance between you tells you how much.

Jungkook hums. “Then start us off.”

Growing up, you’d wished that the karaoke industry would work faster. Churn out more microchips that held more than just the 70s and 80s ballads that your family sang in the same rotation at every holiday, birthday, christening, graduation, wedding, hell, every Saturday morning, while you each took charge of scrubbing a different part of the house…

Nowadays, karaoke versions of songs aren’t hard to find. Literally every song is essentially at your fingertips. But with every song at your fingertips, it’s becoming harder and harder to find people who know what you know. Like what you like.

As Jungkook reaches for the other mic, still charging on its base, you play the instrumental.

And you raise your mic to your mouth.

“I keep so much of me hidden. Can’t lie. No, I’ve got this pain inside. Most times I never admit it. But with you, no, I don’t want to hide.”

Jungkook bites his lip as you sing. You aren’t the most gymnastic singer, but you have such a pleasant voice. And he’s not the only one who thinks so. A hush has fallen over the entire room, and even Shik is captivated by the way you’ve softened the air around you.

“What’s there all the time. And weighs on my mind. My friends say they listen. But honestly, I don’t think that they get me like you do. You don’t have to try. I come unfolded with the things I hold inside. I have never told no one but you.”

How long have you been singing? Has it been an hour? Two?

Maybe people don’t tire of you as easily as you thought.

Your heart feels a little lighter.

And you let Jungkook fill the space that remains.

“When I’m with you, I feel different.”

In just one line, you discover that if Jungkook’s voice were a drink, it would be a toasted marshmallow mocha. If Jungkook’s voice were a feeling, it would be your bare legs meeting the backseat of the car on a tempered summer day. If Jungkook’s voice were a hand, it would cup your cheek and hold your face up to make sure you didn’t miss the sight of a falling star.

“Like I can’t just be your warmness, oh baby…”

His vocal runs are hurdles and sprints and marathons in equal turns, voice strong and whole as he dips in and out of notes and syllables, playing with time, and tickling your lighter, and lighter, and even lighter, heart.

“I’ve been through some tough things in my life. And it’s so easy to tell you.”

You believe him.

You believe him so strongly that you almost miss your cue to join him again at the chorus, singing an octave apart, matching him note for note, voice bending and gliding a little easier. Freer.

But then everything just stops.

The music. Your voices. The energy.

It all comes to a halt.

Other voices start to overlap. Curses, and concern.

A small circle of bright, invasive light appears. And then another. And another.

They catch people in slices.

Frowns. Fists.

Eyes. No two sets meeting.

Except, somehow, yours and Jungkook’s.

“Everyone OK?” someone asks, as more and more tiny spotlights rove around the room.

“Apparently it’s the whole building!”

“The whole block?”

“Look out the window!”

“Yeah, it’s the whole city!”

Whines start to fill the room. Then groans. Then yells.

“Fuck,” you hear Jungkook whisper, “people are gonna lose it pretty quickly.”

You feel a hand grab yours and yank you toward them.

“It’s me.”

But you knew that.

And now you know that the center of his body, the notch where his pecs and the top of his abs meet and surrender to one another, seems to be a perfect spot for your hand to rest. And your hand resting there makes up for all the blows that your feet and shins and hips take as you fight your way through the distressed crowd.

“Door.”

You don’t see or feel it. Jungkook’s already holding it open for you, leading you through by jutting out his chest and letting you know where he is, which is right there, still curved around your hand.

His hand leaves yours and slides down your side, circling around your back, incidentally following the line of the band of your bra. His forearm pins you to him, and you feel your body bending with his as he shuffles you through to the hall. His chin rests on the top of your head, and your temple cushions against his collarbone.

Baby powder.

Bodes beat against your back, and you take in a sharp breath, your fingers balling into fists. One hand is still safely settled into that notch below Jungkook’s chest. Your other arm is pressed to your side, hugged by Jungkook’s armpit, your hand swinging down and closing around—

“Wait, shit, I’m still holding the mic?”

“It’s OK,” he tells you. “Everything’s OK.”

But something catches his attention.

“Deji?!”

You feel Jungkook’s chest tighten around your fist.

“Deji!!”

“Mr. Jeup?” Jungkook calls out, hoping his voice can meet hers despite the building wails.

“Jungkook-ah?”

“Yes, it’s Jungkook!”

The collective spotlights help Jungkook and Mr. Jeup find each other across the hall, and Jungkook leads him, and you, to a spot close to the staircase railing.

Mr. Jeup has soaked through the collar of his shirt.

“I can’t find Deji,” he says breathlessly. “I’d already been looking for her for a couple of hours, but she got separated from her unnies—” He clicks his teeth. “Always trailing behind.”

You think of the sweet girl slapping Jungkook’s hand away from her basket of cookies.

“We’ll find her.”

From what you can tell, Jungkook’s voice is enough to reassure Mr. Jeup, as the slices of him that you get look more and more relieved.

“Go home and check in with Mrs. Jeup and the girls,” Jungkook tells him. “My friend and I will go up floor by floor. I’ll text you the moment I see her.”

Mr. Jeup shakes his head. “We should’ve just gotten her a phone. Like she wanted.”

“She won’t be far. She knows your rules.” A slice of light catches Jungkook’s smile, as fond as when he had exchanged those cute giggles with her earlier. “And, though it might not seem like it, she always follows them.”

Mr. Jeup nods. “Thanks, Jungkook. Let me know.”

Shades of Mr. Jeup make their way along the railing, following it carefully as he makes his way back downstairs.

“I’ll formally introduce you another time,” he says apologetically.

Jungkook can’t be so hospitable, or demented, to be thinking about a formal introduction in this fraught situation.

But then you think of how he and Deji teased each other. Their familiar, funny way. How she gave him four cookies as a treat.

Or a payment.

A placid smile spreads across your face. “You know where she is, don’t you?”

Jungkook chuckles.

“C’mon.”

“When will it come back on??”

“We wanna watch!”

“It was just about to get to the good part!”

“Give it a few more minutes,” a voice, more mature than the others, calls out. “Give the backup generators a little bit of time to kick in.”

“They’re not going to,” another older voice says in response. “It’s been too long. I’m betting they’re down as well.”

“Stop it!” the first hisses. “You’ll scare them!”

As predicted, the younger voices start to clamor.

“What??”

“So when will the power come back on?”

“I’m getting hot!”

“Me too! I’m starting to sweat!”

“Eeeewww!”

“Helloooooo!”

Jungkook calls brightly from the hallway through the opening door, slowly revealing a group of kids in the living room, and a couple on the couch, outlined against a soft half-sphere of candlelight.

“Yon! Yeo!”

“Jungkookie!”

The woman on the left jumps up from the couch, and the woman on the right just nods.

You sigh softly when, in the center back of the group of kids, all of them lying on top of each other, having kicked off their blankets and facing a blank, white bed sheet hanging on a cleared clothing rack, you see Deji, sitting with her legs criss-crossed.

And next to a boy.

Jungkook lets go of your hand, but not without glancing at you to make sure it’s OK to.

You smile and nod, lingering in the doorway and watching him tiptoe in the gaps between squishy, teeny arms and legs to crouch down next to Deji, and this boy.

Deji gives Jungkook a high five, and you smirk to yourself as he pulls his phone out from his back pocket, sighing with relief as he starts to type.

The woman who waved gets up and walks over to you, leaning on a bookshelf by the door and folding her arms.

“I’m Yon,” she replies. “And that’s Yeo.”

She jerks her thumb behind her.

Staring straight ahead, Yeo takes another sip of wine.

You introduce yourself and say, “Did you set this up for the kids?”

Yon nods. “Toy Story 3. We were almost at the incinerator scene.”

Your eyes pop open, and you look over to the kid who cheered about the scene earlier.

“That was the good part??”

Yon cackles and says, “Seojun over there has a dark sense of humor.”

The other kids have successfully been distracted, settling into other lively conversations, giggling and playing games with each other, and with Jungkook.

But Seojun quietly breaks free from the group and makes her way to the couch. She plops down next to Yeo, the two of them chatting quietly.

Yon watches them affectionately. “So does Yeo. Kindred spirits, those two.”

They look so serious. But there are moments. Eyebrow flickers. Chuckles. And, throughout, a warm smile of recognition of something deeper. A somewhat somber but understanding of the world around them.

Seojun pauses. Stumbles. Gets whatever she wants to say out. Yeo seems to ponder it, and then says something back. Then, Seojun and Yeo look away from each other, and Yeo strokes her hair once as Seojun hides a smile.

You didn’t realize how many kids lived in the building. But you’re usually out before they’re up, and back in long after they’re asleep.

“Kind of you to host something kid-friendly.”

“To be honest, these have kind of been little test runs.”

Yon’s voice is cautious and small, but happy.

“We want to adopt,” she admits.

Her eyes are pillowy soft as they scan over those tiny, laughing faces.

“The kids around here are so sweet. Good families. Good parents. They don’t judge. And they’ve given us so many smiles. It’d be nice to share our lives like this all the time. Especially with a little one who really needs it.”

You can feel how momentous Yon’s heart must be. Her words surround you. Inflate you. Lift you up.

“Well,” you sigh, impressed, and a little sheepish, at her outpouring of love, “the little ones who get to join your family are quite lucky.”

Yon lets out a deep, encouraged sigh. “Thanks for that. Nice to hear something positive, y’know? It’s been… hard.”

You regretfully agree.

“Anyway,” Yon replies, “how do you know Jungkook? Are you friends with Yugyeom, too? That’s how we met him.”

“I, um—”

Desk.

Office.

Job.

“Well, I just met him today.” You blink. You can’t believe you just met him today.

Yon smiles, recognizing your dazed look.

“He makes quite an impression, doesn’t he?”

Your eyes land on him as he grins and throws up a peace sign while taking a picture with Deji, and laughing with the boy, who is starting to take interest in The Hulk bobblehead in Jungkook’s pocket.

“I’ve known him since he was a skinny teen,” Yon reflects. “His parents used to own this building, but they sold the property when they retired. He’s still here all the time, though.”

She smiles.

“It’s been a little while since we’ve gotten to see him. But it’s always so nice when we do. He just makes things… better.”

Jungkook notes the boy’s gaze, and his bent fingers reach into that pocket to pull The Hulk’s head out, flashing The Hulk’s cute little grimace, to Deji and the boy’s delight.

But when the boy reaches out for it, Jungkook frowns and leans back, not letting the boy take The Hulk out of his pocket completely, choosing instead to close the flap of his pocket over The Hulk’s black eyes, tapping the pocket in thanks for safekeeping.

You giggle.

Maybe that’s the secret to Jungkook.

To all of this.

Being a kid at heart.

Yes, things have been hard.

Things are hard.

But they haven’t been hard just today. And not just for you. Or Yon and Yeo. Or Shik. Or Mr. Jeup. Or any of the people in your building, on your block, in this city.

Everyone is shuffling around, lost in the dark.

But it isn’t your fault.

It isn’t anyone’s fault.

Maybe that’s just how it is sometimes.

Maybe that’s how it is all the time.

There’s always more that you could do to fight against the darkness. To make things better.

But maybe there’s also more time for selcas, and singing, and sangria.

Fun, kind things that you could do with others. And for yourself.

Maybe that’s the way to start.

Yon’s face suddenly pulls together tightly. And you follow her gaze to your hip.

“Why do you have a stapler in your pocket?”

“Hey!” Jungkook exclaims, popping up beside you and patting Yon’s back.

“Hey,” Yon says warmly, leaning in for a hug. “We were just getting to know each other.” She smirks. “Just as it seems the two of you are.”

Jungkook grins at you. “The two of us have been having fun.”

You smile.

“Oooh, funnnn,” Yon says, her voice waving up and down as the word trails from her lips.

She smirks at Jungkook.

“Then don’t worry about Deji. She’s just fine.”

And she is. Deji and the boy are in their own little bubble, voices hushed, bodies crouched and facing each other, smiles mirroring.

“Tell Mr. Jeup that I can walk her down if he wants,” Yon says.

“Nah, he’s good,” Jungkook replies. “I sent him a selca. Told him that you were all just hanging out.”

He slides his hands into his back pockets.

“In fact, I told him that it’s better for her to stay. That it’s much calmer than downstairs. So he said thanks, and that he’d come up and pick her up when the chaos dies down. Even if it’s late into the night.”

Yon clicks her teeth and shakes her head. “Cheeky fucker.”

He beams a cheesy, accomplished grin.

“Alright, Cupid.” Yon beams a cheesy grin of her own. “Then why don’t you two continue your night of fun?”

Jungkook flicks his eyes over to you.

You realize that you’re starting to sweat, too.

Yon is already shoving Jungkook back into the hallway when he asks, “Y-you sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure.” She smiles at you. “Nice meeting you. Maybe you can explain the stapler when I see you again?”

You laugh, and Jungkook stands next to you in the hallway.

Before you leave, he turns back to the living room.

“Dehhhh-jiiiiiii!” he sings.

Deji looks up at him and smiles. “Yesssss??” she sings back mockingly.

Jungkook sends her a wink.

Deji’s cheeks balloon with air, and they deflate quickly as she whines out, “oh-PAAAA!!!”

He cackles as Yon hurriedly calls back, “OK, Jungkook-oppa is leaving now! Everybody say goodbye!”

The kids yell out goodbyes to Jungkook-oppa, and Jung-krook-oppa, and Yungkook-oppa, and Jungle-oppa, and Crunkook-oppa, and Chunky-oppa— and Yon, cackling, uses her foot to nudge Jungkook farther into the hall before pushing the door closed.

The kids’ goodbyes are replaced with the sound of people in other eighth-floor apartments trying to come up with — and, in some cases, even arguing about — activities to occupy their fellow film fans. But unlike on the other floors, the sound doesn’t seem so overwhelming, tempered above by the typical silence of the ninth.

You look up. Being up on the hermit, ninth floor affords you a certain privilege. You haven’t worried one bit since the power went out. You know that your apartment looks exactly the same as you left it. Kitchen, clean. Living room, sparkling. Bed, made. Pillows fluffed, and sheets pressed. Nothing out of the ordinary, save for maybe the fire escape that you like to keep cracked, fighting off the sometimes stale air.

You see your desk pushed up against it. Pages of your open book swaying in the breeze.

“Tired?” Jungkook asks, tilting his head.

How quickly you grow tired of stale air.

“Maybe a little, but,” you rush, “uh… not quite…”

Your gaze settles on each other. Jungkook’s eyebrows are slightly tented.

“Not quite ready to go home just yet,” you say, voice low, and ambling.

Jungkook smiles.

“Then let’s go do the second thing you wanted to do tonight.”

It’s been a while since you’ve seen stars.

And you still kind of see stars when you turn to Jungkook.

The breeze runs through his hair, making some of his shorter, soft curls dance.

You miss them a little when he pulls up his hood, so that his hair stays clean as he lies down on the roof, next to you.

He’s just so mesmerized by how bright the world is in the middle of a blackout.

“Can you believe this happens every night?” Jungkook asks in awe. “This happens every night, and we just don’t see it.”

You look back up at the sky like an old friend.

The suburbs that raised you gave you unencumbered sight. You’ve memorized a few of them. Though your favorites are the ones that shine during the winter, you can spot some of summer’s best. The dippers. Leo.

You introduce him to them.

It’s fun to watch Jungkook meet them for the first time.

“They make everything feel so much smaller,” he observes in wonder.

“That can be a good thing,” you realize as you say.

You feel his curious eyes on you as you give your body a good, deep stretch, toes wiggling, hips pulling down, chest rising a little, and shoulders popping as your neck tilts left and right, your head still resting on the inside back lining of Jungkook’s denim jacket, which he laid flat on the roof for you.

“Takes some of the pressure off.”

He watches as you lick your lips, take another deep breath, and close your eyes as you exhale.

“Feeling a lot of it?” he asks.

“Was.”

The warmth of Jungkook’s proud glow tickles your side, and you open your eyes to the sight of him beaming at the sky and biting his lip at a job well done.

You follow his gaze, and take another deep breath.

“Things will work out,” he says comfortingly.

You chuckle. “They probably always do, for someone like you.”

“What if they do?”

It would sound cocky if he didn’t punctuate it with a question mark that has a light giggle for a point.

The corner of your mouth ticks up. “Then I’m happy for you.”

Jungkook hums.

You lie there in silence for a while, the sounds of the city floating up from the street. It’s calming, hearing the city chugging along, even if just a little slower and quieter, as if nothing out of the ordinary is happening. Because it isn’t.

Jungkook pulls his legs in, bending his knees and letting his feet plant themselves onto the roof, one leg crossing over the other, foot just above and to the right of you.

You watch it sway a little.

“I’d play some music or something, but I think my phone is going to die soon,” Jungkook mumbles.

“Oh. Hang on.”

As you slant your hips toward him, Jungkook’s eyes run down your body and follow their curves. Your hand slides out from your back pocket with your phone, still full of charge.

When you look at its screen, you don’t even see all the notifications in the top bar. You go right to your playlists, and you see the perfect track.

It doesn’t occur to you to ask Jungkook if he likes it. He’s already moved his swaying foot in time to the slightly faster beat.

It’s a song about a new crush, its sweet and giddy lyrics, harmonies, and melodies floating into the air, lofted by city sounds, and Jungkook humming along beside you.

You smile to yourself.

You narrow your eyes.

And then you turn onto your side, folding and tucking both of your hands under your right cheek.

“Tell me more about this crush,” you say.

Jungkook mirrors you, forehead wrinkling, and lips tantalizing as he smirks and turns inward to you, too.

You’re almost touching.

You catch another whiff of baby powder.

“Hmm… which crush?”

You giggle together, noses almost bumping.

“Tell me more about Deji and this boy.”

“Ahhhh!”

He smiles. Fond. Almost proud.

“She’s so cute,” you say, your heart swelling a little.

“She’s precious,” Jungkook agrees. “The Jeups are always busy at their shop, and when they’re working really late, people from the building will drop by their place and check on them, or invite them over. I haven’t been able to visit as often, but when I visit Yugy, I usually try to swing by. Entertain them for a few hours if I can.”

“So friendly,” you comment.

Jungkook tilts his head toward you. “It’s nice to make friends.”

You smile. “It is.” And then. you sigh. “Now, tell me about the boy.”

Laughing, he says, “His name is Hyun-Woo, and he lives on the fourth floor.”

Your smile stretches, and your eyebrows rise.

Jungkook giggles. And then he shares a bit more.

“His parents are quiet. They’re all still kinda new to the city. A little shy. He is, too. He has a pet gerbil named Moony because he seems to like to play at night. He plays video games. He used to collect these little space battalion figurines, but he kind of lost track of some of them during the move, but it’s alright, because he was kinda starting to lose interest in them anyway. And he plays tennis. He’s OK at it.”

“Is he a nice kid?” you ask.

“What do you think?”

“You’re the one who knows him.”

“Huh? I just met him tonight.”

Your eyes open in surprise. Jungkook knows everybody in the world.

“What?”

He raises his hand in caution. “Hey, all of this info is second-hand from Deji.”

“She’s really fallen for him, huh?”

Jungkook’s brows, cheeks, nose, and lips all draw together, meeting, squinched, in the middle of his face.

“She told me that she’s butt-crazy in love.”

When you laugh, he laughs, all his features bouncing back to their rightful, gorgeous places.

You lie there, just watching him, trying to take more of it in.

More of Jungkook just laughing.

His eyes are perfectly almond-shaped, but they grow so big and round when he laughs. He seems to have a habit of pushing his upper lip into a triangular pout, symmetrical with the way his cheeks form sideways Vs as he pulls his lips up and back. There’s a tiny freckle on his chin, by his bottom lip, and you like that depending on how full his laugh is, and how open his mouth grows to let it out, you can sometimes see it, and sometimes, you can’t, because when it pops up, it’s like a tiny, adorable prize. And now, he’s scratching the tip of his ear, grabbing onto it, before sliding his hands under his cheeks, just like yours.

Your knees are almost touching.

“Is she?”

“She is.”

Maybe it’s the topic, and maybe it’s just tonight, but everything about him shines so brightly. Even his voice bathes you in starlight.

“When it comes to this sort of thing, you just know.”

He rubs his knee, gently, against yours.

It angles downward as he rests his weight on it.

His arm comes around you, and your body turns with it, your back meeting the roof.

His hand flattens, resting on his jacket, holding him up.

As he leans over you, face in full view, the only thing you see, other than the swirls of stars sparkling behind him, you think you might crane your neck up and plant a kiss on his slightly parted lips.

As you raise your chin to meet him, he thinks you might, too.

He opens his mouth to say something else. Maybe even do something else. Whatever it is, you want him to do it.

But then, there’s the loud buzzing of generators, and a rush of light.

Windows.

Signs.

Billboards.

Fluorescent.

Neon.

Spotlights evolving into floodlights.

The entire city rumbles with an earthquake of cheers.

Your lips pull back from the pout you were making, rushing inward as you seal them together with your teeth.

Jungkook freezes.

You look at each other for a moment.

And then he leans back. Instead of lying back down, he sits up, folding his legs under him. He uses them to get himself back onto his feet and walk over to the edge, looking back at you and raising his eyebrows in question.

You rock onto your side, kneel, and then hoist yourself up, joining him to look over the ledge.

The streets are more crowded than you thought. And they’re growing louder, no longer restrained under that black cloud.

“Guess it’s over,” he says.

You blink a few times, getting used to this new, luminous world. You peer down at the building across the street, the one that blocks the city from your apartment’s view, and you see a horde of people through one of the main windows.

You can already hear the din of people in your own building, chaos moving from the hallways to the stairwell. Sweaty bodies pushing against each other to get back to their apartments, filled with stale air.

Jungkook raises his eyebrows as he reads your mind. “Wait it out?”

“Nah.”

You follow the siding, along the ledge, to where the roof’s fire escape sits.

You grab the rising railing and steady yourself before climbing up, over the ledge, and turning around to take the ladder down..

You look at Jungkook with a daredevil’s grin.

“C’mon.”

Hoisting the fire escape window open proves to be much more difficult than you thought. Maybe the metal tracks have rusted over. Maybe the paint has turned to glue. Or maybe there’s something stuck at the top, a bit of wood, or a random pebble, wedging it in place.

Jungkook sends it flying upwards with seemingly no effort.

Even though the fire escape’s metal work is still up to code and more than enough to keep you from tumbling down into, incidentally, the dumpsters below, he holds his arms open and around you. Just in case.

You climb in, careful not to stomp on your still-open book, balancing on your desk carefully, but not for too long, given that it was bought on a budget and contains a drawer of screws that you didn’t use when putting it together.

Jungkook sees you calculating, and before you can give any kind of warning, he dives for the rug, somersaulting into the living room, stopping just short of the coffee table holding your one real plant.

Smiling back as you cackle, he jumps up, dusts himself off, and takes a bit of a bow.

Unlike every other apartment in the city at that moment, your lights are still off. But you tend to keep them off anyway, much preferring the way the city light gives you just enough to maneuver around comfortably.

He seems to understand. Another shared preference.

You watch as he takes slivers of your living room in. At the far end, your door, double-locked. Shoes lined up, except for a boot that has fallen on its side. A table, which is probably where you put your keys and mail. A skinny bookshelf on the first wall. A TV, and that coffee table, in the center. That plant, which, unfortunately, isn’t doing too well. This couch, with the quilt that looks like your mother, or any mother, made it, but is actually another bargain buy.

“Cozy,” he says with a genuine smile.

“Appears that way,” you admit.

Jungkook nods as he takes more in. Everything seems to be in place. In order. And he’s starting to feel awkward there, unsure of where he needs to be.

“Well,” he says, smiling. “I guess there’s nothing left to do but the last thing on your list.”

There’s an uncomfortable pressure in your chest. You let it storm and rumble for a moment, and you realize that it’s not anxiety, or stress. Those would mean that having Jungkook in your apartment would feel wrong. That you would want him to go.

But you desperately, desperately don’t.

It’s regret.

The regret of not craning your neck up and kissing him under the stars.

“I don’t want to do the last thing anymore,” you say, looking at him with want. “I wanna do something else.”

You don’t break your gaze as you walk right up to him, toes touching his.

You tilt your head.

You kiss him.

And he lets you.

When you pull away, you grin and ask, “What are you thinking?”

He could have been staring for five seconds or five hours. It somehow feels like both. And all of that explodes when he tells you, “I was thinking how much I like the taste of your mouth.”

His lips land on yours with a soft grunt, diving in with more want the more that he gets of you. His fingers hold your head gently, but after each taste that he gets of you, his fingers continue to dig in, squeezing your cheeks slightly, and forcing your lips forward.

He runs his tongue over them and kisses you once more.

Hearts pounding, you pull away, wearing matching, wet smirks.

As you pull away, you stare at each other, puzzled, and even more curious.

You rush together again, bodies colliding this time, and violently so.

“Ow!”

You rub at the sore spot just above your right breast, and The Hulk scowls back at you.

“Haha, aww.”

He whines along with you, pulling you in closer on the other side, and placing his hand on your sore spot, too.

He massages his fingers in tender circles.

And then he pulls you in for a kiss that unfolds slowly, not robbed of heat and passion but building back up to it layer by layer, like the measured steps of the fire escape, rather than tumbling off of the roof’s ledge.

His hand travels down, taking your breast in his hand and massaging it with his entire palm, working in tandem with his tongue in your mouth.

You feel both his tongue and his hand at your pussy, clenching tighter, and nearly getting as wet as your smirks.

He groans softly, shoulders bending back.

He momentarily removes his hand from you as he peels his jacket off of his frame, first his left sleeve, then his right, folding the jacket in half and gently tossing it over to your couch.

And then, his hand returns, and the other joins it, groping your chest and pushing your breasts into you. You lay your hands on top of his and follow his round motions, intertwining and closing your fingers around his fingers as they feel you.

His thumbs flick over both of your nipples. You can only feel part of the sensation, with your blouse still on, and given the light padding in your bra. But it’s more than enough to send twitches to your pussy as it drips with more arousal.

Your thighs tighten and clasp together, hips swirling.

Your head dips back as you take in a long, deep breath, followed by shallower ones.

It feels like you’ve been drowning.

Jungkook watches you, hands slowing to a stop.

“Everything OK?”

“I haven’t been kissed like that in a long, long time,” you say, dazed. “And I barely know you.”

Jungkook smiles. “I’m Jungkook.”

You laugh, “Yes, but—”

“Why don’t I tell you what I know,” he says quietly, and thoughtfully.

He runs his fingers down the collar of your blouse. You barely feel him, but your chest feels so tense.

“I know that you’re sweet.”

He runs his index finger down your chest. As he unbuttons the first button with just his right hand, your eyes unfocus, lids falling slightly closed, and your tilting head sending them back.

“I know that you’re kind.”

The second button is a little harder to undo. You had to replace it after the thread came loose, and you overdid the fix just to be sure. He’s still able to unbutton it with just one hand.

“I know that you’re funny.”

The third button opens, and he rolls it in his fingers as he tickles your belly button, making you giggle and squirm.

“I know that you’re feisty. And really competitive. Which I’m gonna have tons of fun with.”

You laugh as he hooks his finger around the fourth button, which falls open. He barely even had to touch it. You feel your shirt spreading apart at your shoulders, and you feel the slight breeze from the window on your chest.

“I know that you’ve had a shitty day.”

You soften as he undoes the last button at the end of your blouse.

“And I wanna make you feel better.”

His hands move up your hips, and waist, and he moans softly at the feel of your skin.

He bends down and kisses just above your right breast, as his hands run up your chest and to your shoulders, slipping under that polyester blend and running down your arms, your blouse traveling with them.

You hear the crumple of sangria-stained fabric fall on the ground.

Jungkook’s lips find a spot on your neck, and you lean back to give him room.

Your hands sneak under his hoodie, and you take the time to grope every single muscle on his back, each of them covered in a slight sheen of sweat.

“Mmm,” he whispers, as you hook your arms under his and pull him closer.

“Why have you been wearing two layers?” you finally ask, feeling the weight of his sweat in the fabric. “It’s so hot.”

“I haven’t done my laundry yet. These are the last clean clothes that I have. And this is thin.”

He tugs on the front and looks down.

“You can see my nipples through it.

Your frown is weighted with empty promises when you look down.

“In the light, I mean,” Jungkook chuckles.

“That’s a feature, not a bug, Jungkook.”

He has no idea what you’re talking about, but he’ll take it, with the way you’re softly moaning as you run your hands across his chest.

“You wanna see them?”

“Uh-huh. Let me turn on the light.”

“Or you could just take this off.”

“Right.”

You almost would prefer to turn on the light, because, now that you know his back is made of nothing but rippling muscle, you don’t know if you’ll be able to handle the full sight of his chest.

But you bite your lip, and tug.

He pulls his arms down, and then he shakes his hair free, as you pull the hoodie from his head.

You wish you could take a picture of the resulting floof, so soft and cute.

And then you let your eyes drift down to his chest.

He watches with interest as you trace each of his pecs with your fingers.

“Live up to your expectations?”

You realize your mouth has been hanging open.

You look into his eyes.

“Shattered them.”

He laughs, and then you go back to admiring his body. You wonder what he does. Weights, obviously, as supported by his strong, defined arms. Maybe he swims, given his waist. He probably likes to run, too. He can probably run for hours. In fact, with all the gallivanting around tonight, his heart’s gotta be like that of a stallion.

This bodes well for you.

The only way he can pry you away from that body is by tilting your chin up and stealing your gaze with his eyes.

His lips flutter against your jaw line until they meet yours again.

With your chests mashing together, and your kisses stretching on for longer, busier spans of time, you’re starting to work up a sweat.

“Bedroom?” you ask, panting.

He nods quickly and looks around to figure out which door it is.

You smile and take his hand, leading him to the far right, past your kitchen, and to your room, to your perfect, comfy bed.

You slide out of your shoes, undo your pants, and let them fall to the floor before climbing onto the bed and sitting in the middle.

And you run your hand across your chest as you watch him take his time, kicking off his shoes, taking off his pants, standing there in his black boxer-briefs and just grinning at you.

“Are you gonna join me or what?”

When your head tilts to the side, weighted with impatience, he scrunches his face again, and laughs.

He crawls as he follows you, watching you to make sure you’re comfortable as you lie down, and then settling on top of you, like you both wish he had done on the roof.

“You playing with me?” you mumble through a smile, as you bring your arms around him.

He kisses the inside of your upper arm and rubs it with his hand. “No,” he says simply. “Just like looking at you.”

You sigh as he kisses you.

It’s a little faster. Hungrier. Like before.

He leads you back with his lips, and when he looks down at your chest, you arch back, fingers finding the band and undoing the clasps in the back.

He lets out a sigh when he sees your bare chest.

He locks eyes with you, and his look says it all. Equal parts tender and fascinated. You wouldn’t believe the look on anyone else, but after tonight, you know that there is no disingenuous bone in Jungkook’s body.

You are beautiful.

He smiles as he snatches your bra from your hand and tosses it behind him, rushing forward to you and pinning you down to your pillow with his kiss, both of you laughing and grunting happily.

You place your hands on his hips, and then stroke his thighs.

You run the backs of your fingernails to his crotch, and he lets out a low moan.

“OK?” you ask.

“Yeah. Yeah, please.”

You fondle his cock, hard, and getting harder, while you grasp it with firm pressure. He whines so sweetly as your hand runs up and down its column, his underwear keeping it pinned against him, nearly choking it off.

His left hand claims your left breast, starting to massage it, and his right hand strokes your panties, twisting as your body starts to writhe against your mattress, the fabric riding higher and getting caught in your swelling, dripping flesh.

Your kisses are becoming more and more impassioned with each need being met.

He starts to dip his fingers between your pussy lips, letting your clit part his index and middle fingers as his wrist rocks back and forth.

As you moan on each stroke, he lifts his lips from yours and rests his temple against your collarbone.

“Can I taste you?” he asks hopefully.

You look at him and nod in desperation.

He smirks and kisses down your body, taking your panties and pulling them down to your calves. He’s so impatient that he starts to eat you out before they’re even fully off, and you take turns between giggling while trying to kick them off completely, and groaning at each dizzy lick of his tongue tip, spiraling around your clit, and sending you spiraling into your own abyss.

Your hips start to match his motion, but then his hands grasp your hips and pin you down.

You feel yourself fighting against him, and that tight, added resistance has you seeing stars. The sensation travels in waves over your body, never quite settling in one place. Your shoulders carry you from left to right. Your ass digs down, then pumps up. Your back locks, then arches. All of your movements fail miserably at quelling the disquieted sections of your body, only shifting the tension from muscle to muscle.

He pins your thighs down with his forearms, and then holds you open with his thumbs, his tongue laying flat and changing from spirals to broad, heated, pressured brushstrokes up and down, at an even, unhurried tempo.

You whimper as you start to feel little shivers of pleasure tickle your body. You wet your lips and press them together, choked-off grunts getting louder and louder.

“Fingers?” Jungkook asks.

“Mm -hmm.”

He grunts as he shifts his weight, letting your left thigh go, and softly pushing it to the side to widen your spread a little.

His hand is warm and covered in your sweat.

He lays the pad of his thumb against the entrance of your pussy, pressing slightly, and then he sucks the juice that collects around it.

“Tight little thing,” he mumbles. “Not ready for me yet.”

You groan at all the things that means.

He slides the tip of his index finger in. At first, you feel yourself fighting him, but when he starts to suck your clit, you feel yourself start to shift that tension up to your extremities. Your hands ball into fists. Your toes curl. Your throat closes off as you try to wail.

His entire finger slides inside, and you feel your walls conforming to his knuckles.

He starts to pump, and you hiss.

The sound of wet muscle doubles, and you feel his groans against your clit as his hips start to snap into his own fist.

He keeps his mouth open as you rock against his mouth, tongue stretching into your folds as you slide around his finger, moving faster, his other fist matching your pace stroke for stroke.

As the edges of a soft, warm release start to take you, he slips another finger inside of you, and you let out a loud moan.

Jungkook hums, pleased with how pleased you are.

“Shit, it feels so good,” you whine, before resting the back of your forearm over your lips and biting down.

He quickens his speed. Curves his fingers up.

“Uh-huh!”

You tighten around him, and he lets out a sigh, his temple resting against your thigh, eyes dazed over as he watches his fingers disappear inside of you over and over again, while his other fingers tighten their grip around his leaking cock.

He grunts again, and then, he places his lips over your clit, sealing it in his mouth, and sucking again.

When you come, you sigh, laughing a little at how unexpectedly delirious you feel.

Your body is still shivering when he stands over you, his pace slowing, but his cock still has a ways to grow.

It’s already so big.

You can’t wait.

“Come here,” you motion, directing Jungkook to come around the side of the bed.

“You sure?” he asks, obviously excited.

“After that?” you say, delighted.

You roll onto your side, hugging the edge of the mattress, and open wide for him, eyes gleaming as you look up at him.

His hand cradles the back of your head as you try to take him in one gulp. It takes you a minute to get the angle right, jaw driving you left and right, tongue flat, then narrow and pointed, until you surround him with your lips, and you start to bob your head back and forth, halfway down his shaft.

He takes a shaky breath in, and you smile when you hear him let out a little, “whoo.”

He comes out of your mouth with a pop as you lick your precum-glossed lips and ask, “You like it?”

You see only his hair floof shake up and down. His head has fallen back, the strong pillar of his throat bulging forward, collarbones out, chin directed up at the air.

You watch as you suck harder, his crown regally announcing itself through the curtains of your tonsils, muscle meeting your throat.

Jungkook hisses, bringing his hands up to the sides of his head, and raking his fingers through his hair.

You move back and forth again, your pillow collecting your sweat as you go.

The longer you go, the more you feel him resisting.

You place your hands on his hips to find that they’re shaking.

When you pinch them, he moans, and he finally lets himself thrust.

You groan as he pushes into you, taking shallow breaths in through your nostrils as he sinks further and further into madness. How you take him so easily, and yet, how beautifully tight and slippery your throat is. How patient you are, and how careful he has to be. It’s driving him sinfully insane.

Before it gets too far, he pulls out, slow at first, and then quick, as you catch your breath, and he tenses.

“Again?” you prompt weakly, opening your mouth.

“I have to fuck you,” Jungkook demands. “Now.”

You laugh at how serious he looks, his eyes darting around your bedroom.

“What are you looking for?”

“Condoms?”

You get out of bed and scurry to the bathroom, Jungkook smiling and pinching your ass as you go.

You lead him to the bathroom, the door opposite your kitchen, and you quickly locate them under your sink.

“These OK?” you ask, holding up the box.

“Perfect.”

He rips one from the rest.

And then he sets it on the sink, taking the box with him and marching back to your bedroom.

You laugh, running up to him and jumping onto his back, wrapping your legs around his waist and peppering his neck and traps with kisses.

He kisses your forearm and giggles.

And then something catches his eye.

He stops.

“Ooh. What’s that?”

You look over to your kitchen counter and spot the simple snacks you’d left out for yourself, thinking you’d be treating yourself for the weekend.

“Is that candy?” he asks.

“Chocolate, infused with weed.”

“Yeah?”

He looks back at you and smirks.

“You wanna?” you ask, raising your eyebrows. “We haven’t eaten in a while. And they’re kinda strong.”

Jungkook beams. “Even better.” But then he pushes out his lips. “Unless you were saving—”

“I’m down if you’re down,” you say happily. “Go get ‘em.”

He hoists you up higher onto his back, and you tighten your grip around his shoulders, as he walks over to the counter.

He unwraps the gold foil and breaks off a square. He raises it up and behind him to your lips. You take his fingers into your mouth and suck. He leaves his hand there so that you can suck the rest of the chocolate off of them, too. He beams at you, and you lean forward to kiss him, before he takes another square for himself.

He licks his fingers as he brings you back to bed, the two of you laughing as you go.

And then, he stumbles, tripping, turning just in time to throw you onto the bed, while he falls to the floor.

“Oh my god!” you cackle, as Jungkook pops back up, your pants, and your powder blue stapler, tangled up and around his foot.

“I’m sorry!” he calls out, pulling them off and throwing them back down.

“Are you OK?” you ask, still giggling.

Jungkook furrows his brow and looks at the ground. He disappears, and then pops back up again, holding up a sleeve of condoms.

“Yes. Yes I am.”

He rips one off the end and puts it on, crawling over you as you lay back.

“Mmm,” you sigh, as he pushes into you.

His neck lolls forward, and you grab his hair floof in your fingers.

“You OK?” Jungkook asks gently.

You wonder how many times he’s had to ask someone that.

He’s so long, but his girth. So wide. So full. And so heavy, with want, and passion, and excitement.

“You said that you had to fuck me,” you say, hands grabbing onto his ass. “So fuck me.”

He starts to move, pulling back, and then rocking forward, your bodies bobbing up and down as your movements build off of each other, more pleas floating out of your mouths.

More.

Harder.

Like this.

His eyes find that spot above your right breast.

“What?” you ask, slightly distracted by the look on his face.

“I think there’s a small bruise.” He presses a kiss to your cheek. “I’m sorry about that.”

“That’s OK,” you say, scoffing. “If I need to, I can cover it up with something.”

“So can I.”

His mouth latches there, and he starts to bite, and suck. You feel your skin giving way to him, like it’s breaking open and spilling all over you, instead of Jungkook’s pool of spit.

“Oh my god,” you whisper, your hips starting to roll at the combined sensation. “Don’t stop.”

As his thrusts get harder and deeper, he shifts all of his weight to his left side, and his right hand slides down to your clit, starting to rub in those circular motions again. You roll against him, knees in the air, swaying open, then back closed around his waist.

Everything’s a blur.

He stiffens as he pumps, deeper and deeper, the bed rocking under your weight, his own tiny sighs getting louder as you start to wail.

All the while, his teeth pinch and nibble that spot on your chest, and you feel your legs starting to shake.

You’re on the brink of another orgasm.

When he stops.

“No, no, no, no,” you whimper, fluttering.

Jungkook giggles.

“Don’t stop!”

“I’m not. Not completely.”

“Ugh.”

His voice deepens, and softens, as it rumbles through your hair to your ear.

“Think about how crazy it’ll feel when you come.”

He runs his wet index finger around your right nipple, and he kisses the hickey he’s just given you just above it.

“Please.”

Jungkook grins. “Ah, you asked so nicely.”

He starts to thrust into you again, and you fall right back where you were, covered in tingles and sweat, body starting to spasm, shaking even harder than you were starting to before.

He’s right.

Jungkook, this beautiful stranger, who is dipping in and out of your frenzied pussy, cock slamming, and disappearing, whose hand is furiously pawing at your clit and making you overflow with arousal, making every muscle inside of you tremble, and then freeze and release, exploding and sending you reeling, is absolutely right.

“Fuck!”

When you come, you do feel crazy.

And so does he, getting off on how you moaned for him, babbled nonsense because of him.

A few tears are pooling in the corners of your eyes.

You feel so raw.

A good kind of raw.

Not like before, when Jungkook first saw you crying.

The kind of raw that tells you that you’ve washed the day off of your tired skin and are reborn.

You look at him in contemplation.

“You’re lucky I like overstimulation.”

“Taking note,” Jungkook observes, slowing his thrusts. “What else do you like?”

“What do you like?”

“I like spanks.”

“Me too,” you say. “Giving and receiving.”

He stops his thrust altogether, intrigued.

“Then spank me,” he orders. “Right now.”

You do, as you bite your lip and smile.

“No, really, spank me,” Jungkook says, reaching for your arm.

You fight off his wiggling fingers, lean forward, and pack a wallop into your slap on his ass, watching it shake.

“Ow! Not that hard!” he whines, rubbing the spot.

“I’m sorry!”

He collapses into giggles, curling up in your sheets.

“I’m kidding. You’re kind of weak.”

You scrunch up your face and spank him all over his body, but then he picks you up, tickling you and sending you into a cackling frenzy.

“Jesus fucking— Stop! Stop! You win!” you cry.

“Say I’m the flip cup champ!” Jungkook demands.

“What??”

“Say it!”

“B-but you aren’t!”

“Say it or I won’t stop!”

You can’t breathe, you’re laughing so hard. “I’m the flip cup champ!”

Jungkook pinches your side, and you squeal.

“You’re the flip cup champ!” you holler. “Jungkook is the flip cup champ!”

Jungkook laughs with haughty satisfaction as he lies down on his side, kissing you as you start to float back down next to him.

As your cackles slow, you turn to him and run your fingers over his pretty, kiss-swollen mouth.

“What do you wanna do now?”

“I dunno. What do you wanna do?”

“I dunno.”

“What were we doing, anyway?”

You stare at each other, dumbfounded.

He laughs and turns to you, wide-eyed. “I think we were having sex?”

You cackle. “Oh shit, right!” You kiss him. “Let’s do that. Let’s do more sex.”

“Shit,” he giggles. “This is not a reflection of the quality of sex we were having, by the way. I’m having an amazing time.”

“I know. Me too.” You smile. “I’m having fun.”

You’ve been in the clouds since meeting Jungkook. But everything feels even hazier. The boundaries of your mattress, nightstands, walls, ceilings, and floors are melding. Softening.

And so is Jungkook’s happy, smiling face.

You grin and scrunch your nose.

“Hmm. I guess the edible hit.”

“Guess so,” Jungkook celebrates, eyes shining.

“Let me ride you,” you say warmly, but excitedly, kissing him as you get on top. “You’ve been doing all the work.”

“You’ve been putting work in, too. And you can’t ride me better than I’ve been fucking you,” Jungkook teases.

“Are you shitting me?” you ask, aghast. “Is that a dare?”

“Try it and find out.”

You slap his chest, and he laughs.

And while you sink down onto him, he sighs lightly, licking his lips and curling them into a smile.

First, you tantalize him by weaving slow circles, clenching him so tightly, that he hisses the same way he did when he was in your throat.

His hands slap onto your thighs and grab on.

You start to bounce up and down, and he watches your breasts jiggle as you do, his left hand reaching up and squeezing the right one as his right hand squeezes your thigh.

And then, you lean forward, and rock against him. You move so sweetly, whether you’re gently stroking him with your flesh, or riding him so tight and hard that he can’t see straight. It seems that you’re headed that way, with how hard your fists are gripping his shoulders.

He moans compliments as you ride.

“You’re goddamn gorgeous.”

“You feel so good.”

“So, so tight. If you clench even harder, I’ll—”

And you do.

He won’t be able to last.

But then you stop.

His mouth falls open.

You lean forward and scoop him up into a kiss.

“Think about how crazy it’ll feel when you cum,” you joke.

“You are driving me crazy.”

You giggle through another moan. “Butt-crazy?”

Jungkook whines. “Don’t be cute. And don’t talk about butts. I might ask you to do something, and I feel like that’s a question for when we know each other a little better.”

“Keep going the way you are, and if you ask it tonight, I might say yes.”

“Oh god.”

But you still don’t budge.

He places his hands on your waist and frantically tries to get you to bounce. Tries tickling you. Pinching you.

“Agh, c’mon.”

“Nope. This is payback for—”

Jungkook finally just grabs you by the hips. Holds you in place. Starts to pump up and into you.

He’s relentless.

You give complete control to him, barely able to hold yourself up.

But he’s got you.

The strokes feel like flames, deep, hot, and fast, making your pussy pulse, arousal leaking, even threatening to spurt out of you because of how full you are.

When your elbows start to tremble, threatening to give way, he wraps his arms around you hugging your chest to his. His strokes have started a wildfire in your core, and you’re sweating so much that when your head falls to him, there’s a splash of it onto your temple.

Everything in your body is clamping down. Shutting down. You can’t stand it anymore. All this tension.

The release is almost unbearable.

You both howl, your orgasm coming first, and his coming soon after, your bodies tied up in knots as you strain to stay together, transferring each flicker and spasm to one another, until you both collapse back down to the mattress.

“Let me cool you down,” he mumbles, fighting the oncoming drowsiness.

“What?” you ask.

But he’s already sliding down your body.

He licks at your pussy, lapping up all of your arousal.

“Jungkook?”

You start to feel waves rolling up your calves.

“Jungkook.”

“Mm.”

He spits it all back onto you, making you gasp.

He keeps licking, sucking on your clit, sucking on your lips, and gently running his fingers across your stomach, like little comforting tickles.

You come, softly, and quietly, gentle shivers helping your body stretch back out and relax, resolving the rest of the tension that hadn’t quite unfurled from before.

“There.”

You watch him army crawl back up the mattress and laugh softly when his completely drenched hair floof hits the pillow next to you.

“Tell me what you’re thinking,” he says.

“Nothing,” you answer. “My mind is completely blank.”

“Good.” Jungkook grins. “That was the third thing you wanted, wasn’t it?”

All you can do is stare at his proud, accomplished, wondrous grin.

And before he pulls you into a soft, tender kiss, he tells you.

“You were right. I find that things usually work out. And that’s because I always make sure that they do.”

The sun stings your eyes. It feels chemical. Even with them closed.

Slowly, you pry them open. First the left. Then the right. You blink slowly, then rapidly, the world coming into focus as you do.

Where are you?

Oh. That’s right. Home.

Why did you forget that you were home? You’re always home.

Though it feels like you haven’t been home in ages.

Why is it so bright?

Yes, it’s day time. But it’s so—

Right. The city blackout.

But how did you know the whole city was affected? Whenever anything in your apartment goes wrong, you pretty much ignore it and continue puttering around your apartment until you get some kind of text from a co-worker—

Mm.

Anyway, you guess you’ll putter around until you somehow find out from someone that whatever you were experiencing was actually part of some kind of mass event—

Riiiiiiiight. The block party.

Hold on.

Why are you smiling about the block party?

Why are you giggling about the block party?

Why do you feel so sore?

And what time is it?

You lift your head, too quickly at first, feeling immediately unsteady. You shut your eyes and let your body find equilibrium before trying to step back outside of yourself. When you’re ready — there’s no rush, you, for some reason, kindly tell yourself — you prop yourself up on your elbows and look to your nightstand to find out.

And you see four things.

Your clock, reading 8:43 AM.

Your powder blue stapler.

The Hulk.

And, under his feet, a small note, scribbled on a piece of paper. Torn, like his shorts.

It’s 8:20. I think you’re almost up, but you look pretty comfy, so I don’t want to wake you. Going to the Chans for breakfast.

C’mon!

As everything comes swirling back to you — the dumpsters; and Mrs. Chan’s walnut chicken; Yugyeom and his sangria; Shik and your stapler; Mr. Jeup, Deji, her cookies, her crush, and Crunkook-oppa ; Yon and Yeo in the candlelight; and, not least of all, Jungkook’s beaming face framed by that unspeakably wondrous, starry, starry sky — you’re glad, thrilled, that some memories from last night were absolutely worth keeping.

So you leap out of bed to make more.

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smolwritingchick · 2 months

Text

The Bangtan Gal Chapter 91- Tub Big Enough For Two

Chapter Summary: BTS promote BST as viewers and fans freak out and wonder what is going on between Jennie and Taehyung due to what they saw in the MV. Jennie suffers a wardrobe malfunction during a show. Jennie and Jungkook become stressed trying to juggle school and promotions. Pissed about having to take an exam the next morning, Jungkook's angry emotions are shown while performing late at night for a show and Jennie helps him calm down back at the dorm.

Words: 8,000+

Author's Note: Years ago, when I saw that fan cam of Jungkook on October 18th 2016 it inspired the last part of this chapter. I really love it and thought it was super cute and fluffy. I hope you enjoy! It'll take me a bit to write the next chapter after this but I hope this chapter can hold you until I update this story again!

------

At the music show, Jennie wore one of her outfits from the music video and had a personalized earpiece. Her earpiece had Smartie written on it with two small drawings of Smarties under it. What excited Jen about performing BST was that for her verse, she would be able to switch up the choreography and switch it with a different member. For their comeback stage, Taehyung would be the first. And then on another day, it would be another member instead. She hoped viewers would enjoy it as it kept the performance fresh and improvised.

Jennie and Jungkook got to reunite with GOT7 when they weren’t recording. Jumping on Bam Bam’s back, she outstretched her arms like an airplane while Jungkook picked up Yugyeom on his back. Mark laughed as he started taking photos on Bam Bam’s phone which consisted of them laughing and doing funny faces for each one. Jackson and Namjoon even photobombed a few with funny facial expressions of their own. When Bam Bam noticed, he laughed and showed it to his 97 Liner friends.

After getting the photo from Bam Bam, she posted the photo on Twitter and Instagram with the caption, ‘Reunited~! Squad! Missing the rest of the 97 Liner gang’

As the music show went on, Bangtan did a mini fan meeting as fans with Army bombs screamed for them while SHINee’s Key and GOT7’s Bam Bam were the MCs.

“Alright, these people who have set the music industry on fire with HwaYangYeonHwa have properly announced their declaration to soar this time! BTS!” Key announced.

“2! 3! Bang-Tan! Hello, we are BTS!”

“Could you please introduce your second full album, WINGS for us?” Bam Bam asked the group.

“Yes, our second full album, WINGS, consists of 16 tracks and we can say it is an album full of dark, dark, sexy, sexy charms that you have never seen from us before!” Suga answered as some fans covered their faces with the WINGS album and waved away their Bangtan Bomb in the background.

“Alright, we heard that your concept this time is boy meets temptations and so we have investigated what temptations each of the members have met. Bam Bam?” Key asked.

“Jungkook, who has turned 20 years old this year has indeed met sexiness properly!” he announced as Jungkook smiled at the camera and raised an eyebrow. “I am also 20 years old this year but I don’t know why I haven’t met sexiness. So please show us some sexiness in element!”

“You want me to show you?” Jungkook asked.

“Yes!”

Grabbing onto his belt, Jungkook body rolled and bit his bottom lip as fans ate it up, screaming. J-Hope dropped his jaw and then placed an arm over Bam Bam’s shoulder, body rolling with him. Watching the duo join Jungkook in body rolls, Jennie stared at them like they were crazy.

“Woah, woah, woah! Please stop!” Key exclaimed.

“Y’all are clowns,” she laughed.

“That was great, alright. But Jin, is this the end?” Key asked.

“Of course not! Rap Monster and I, the outer wings of dance in BTS, have met our temptations from dancing! We shall show you the choreography point of Blood, Sweat and Tears!” he answered.

“Now, 5, 6, 7, 8!” J-Hope counted as they watched them perform a small section of the dance. “That was just fantastic!” he praised with Jungkook.

“Everyone, that is not the choreography point. The 95 liners, who have met temptations from both sexiness and dance will show you the choreography point move properly!” Jimin spoke up.

“The friends who were born in ’95!” Key said.

“Yup! 5, 6, 7, 8!” J-Hope counted down again as they danced with Jin singing the chorus.

“Jennie has shown an enticing persona that has captured the hearts of many fans. What temptations have you encountered?” Bam Bam asked.

She stood there, pondering for a moment after taking the mic. Then she suddenly took out a handful of Smarties from her pocket. “Smartie galore~!”

The boys laughed with her as she dramatically presented the candy on screen. She turned around and gave some to a few lucky fans. When some asked her to throw some in the back, she tossed the rest.

“If you watch M Countdown’s live broadcast, the temptation of revealing it for the first time, what temptations are there to this, Jennie?” Key asked her.

Holding the mic as she stood next to Suga, she pointed out the signed BTS WINGS album he was holding. “If you watch the broadcast, you could win a signed copy of our new album! All you gotta do is take a picture of the live broadcast on your screen and mention it to M Countdown Twitter! So, tweet away!”

“Jennie, I want to watch your performance of Blood, Sweat and Tears now and get the signed CD!” Bam Bam pointed out.

“Woah, woah, before you watch our performance stage of our title track, aren’t you curious about the temptations that I, J-Hope have encountered?” he asked. “These days I’m into the temptations of elegant and gleaming women~. Yeah~.”

“BTS’ first comeback stage of 21st century girl will be revealed for the first time, very soon and if you continue to watch the live broadcast after that you will be able to meet our title track as well!” Jungkook pointed to the camera.

“Before that, the first revealing performance of the most mystic ones, Ladies Code!” Rapmon announced.

“And Monsta X’s stage too, M Countdown-“

“Let’s go, let’s go!” they all shouted and jumped around.

-----

For the recording of 21st Century Girl, as the group got into formation, the audience began to loudly sing Happy Birthday to Jimin which warmed Jennie’s heart. He grinned and bowed before sending fans a heart. Throughout the entire performance, she had a big smile on her face, clearly indicating that this was if not her favorite song out of the album.

As the broadcast went on, it was finally time to perform Blood, Sweat & Tears. The setting BTS was in looked similar to how it was in the music video as Jennie's demeanor turned into work mode and her expression turned serious. Getting into her BST persona, she stood in the back for the opening pose.

As Jimin’s ethereal vocals started off the song,

nae pi ttam nunmul

They raised their heads to looked at the ceiling and then down,

nae majimak chumeul

da gajyeoga ga

They moved smoothly on beat as fans screamed.

nae pi ttam nunmul

Covering their eyes, they began to hip thrust. For this, Jen chose to place her hand on her thigh while the others either had their hand on their belt or crotch. As they swayed their arms fluidly, the crowd fan chanted their names.

Kim Namjoon! Kim Seokjin! Min Yoongi! Jung Hoseok! Park Jimin! Kim Taehyung! Jeon Jungkook! Jen Walker! BTS!

nae pi ttam nunmuldo

nae mom maeum yeonghondo

neoye geoshin geol jal algo isseo

igeon nareul beolbatge hal jumun

Peaches and cream

Sweeter than sweet

Getting on a knee on the floor, she body rolled sensually looking right directly at the camera.

Chocolate cheeks

And chocolate wings

But neoye nalgaeneun akmaye geot

neoye geu sweet apen bitter bitter

Kiss me apado dwae

eoseo nal joyeojwo

deo isang apeul sudo eopge

Baby chwihaedo dwae ije neol deurikyeo

mok gipsugi neoran wiseuki

nae pi ttam nunmul

She slowly let herself fall on the floor and turned on her back, thrusting up.

nae majimak chumeul

da gajyeoga ga

nae pi ttam nunmul

With a sexy smile, she began to caress her body as her hands went down slowly.

nae chagaun sumeul

da gajyeoga ga

wonhae mani mani mani mani

wonhae mani mani mani mani mani mani

wonhae mani mani mani mani

wonhae mani mani mani mani mani mani

As she sang, the boys rushed in close and crowded around her. They body rolled as they had their attention on her while she stared at the camera instead. Every day she was finding more ways to improve on this sexy persona she was told to do for this comeback. Her appearances weren’t enough, so she chose to do what she did best and make the camera her best friend.

“How much longer before you consume me? No matter how much I resist, I can’t fight what you’re doing,”

Looking behind her and then back at the crowd, she snapped her fingers and everyone dropped to the floor except for V.

Staring at her with desire, he had a playful smirk on his face and got behind her. Covering her eyes and having his other hand hold onto her securely, they lean to the side.

“My mind is telling me to break free but my body is freaking out. No, I can’t want you, get out of my head. As you love every inch of me you see that I want it too.”

Once he removed his hand from her eyes, she felt his breath on her neck.

“Breath on my neck, I bit off more than I can chew. Reflecting on my choices, I’m wonderin’ if there’s any way out of this,"

Once she turned her head back to look at him, he leaned in close like he was going to kiss her, hence loud screaming occurring. She pushed him away and turned her attention back to the crowd, to dance.

"I’m losing this battle, I just can’t resist. Only a matter of time before you screw me up and I’ll be stuck reminiscing,” she covered her mouth and joined the rest of the group who got up as J-Hope rapped his verse.

apado dwae nal mukkeojwo

naega domangchil su eopge

kkwak jwigo nal heundeureojwo

naega jeongshin mot charige

Kiss me on the lips lips

dulmane bimil

neoran gamoge jungdokdwae gipi

niga anin dareun saram seomgiji mothae

almyeonseodo samkyeobeorin dogi deun seongbae

nae pi ttam nunmul

nae majimak chumeul

da gajyeoga ga

nae pi ttam nunmul

nae chagaun sumeul

da gajyeoga ga

wonhae mani mani mani mani

wonhae mani mani mani mani mani mani

wonhae mani mani mani mani

wonhae mani mani mani mani mani mani

As V stood in front of the camera to sing, Suga reached for his neck while J-Hope grabbed his wrist on the other side.

nareul budeureopge jugyeojwo

The trio bent down to reveal Jungkook with Rapmon and Jennie covering his eyes along with theirs.

neoye songillo nun gamgyeojwo

As everyone bent down to reveal Jin in the back, he sang his lines, ducking over Jen and Rapmon’s hands.

eochapi geobuhal sujocha eopseo

deoneun domanggal sujocha eopseo

niga neomu dalkomhae neomu dalkomhae

neomu dalkomhaeseo

nae pi ttam nunmul

nae pi ttam nunmu

After their ending pose, the lights went out and the audience cheered loudly.

Once the staff announced the recording was over, Jennie’s excited sound effect and “Woo! That was hot! We did it!” was heard which made everyone laugh.

“Whoops, I thought my mic was off,” she giggled and took off her earpiece.

-------

After their recording, in the dressing room, Jennie and Jin prepared the cake. They were recorded for a Bangtan Bomb to surprise Jimin for his birthday.

“Fancy packaging,” she commented as they carefully opened the box.

After setting it up, Jungkook lit up the candles while their manager went to call Jimin back into the room.

“Oh! Ya, that looks delicious!” Hobi said.

With the lights off and Jin holding the cake while V had flowers in his hand, “Happy birthday to you!” everyone sang while Jennie jumped and clapped around with Hobi.

“Happy birthday to you! Our dear Park Jimin! Happy birthday to you!”

“Blow!” Jin presented the cake in front of him.

With a big smile, Jimin happily blew out the candles.

“Look at this! Your dad sent it to you,” V presented him with the flowers.

“Wow, my dad is daebak!” Jimin said and took the flowers.

“To show how much he loves you,” Suga joined in the conversation.

Jimin pointed out that the cake was the same cake he bought Rap Monster when he spent his first birthday with him. The cake was even meaningful.

“Also the members individually bought you presents,” J-Hope told him.

“YEAAAAAAH~!” the birthday boy shouted.

After they celebrated with cake, Jen saw that Jimin had finished recording for a Bangtan Bomb to talk about how grateful he was for the birthday wishes. She thought it was the best time to give him her gift.

“Happy birthday~!” she sat next to him, holding a photo album in her hands. “Thank you for being born and being such an amazing soul. This is for you! I made it myself. Remember I asked you for all the Polaroids you’ve taken over the years? This is what I was working on,”

When he opened it, he saw that all his polaroids were in a collection by date. It had captions of the memories along with some stories she had written as she thought about the memories BTS has had so far.

“Oh wow...Ennie, this is...wow,” he said breathlessly as he was in awe at the gift.

Her nervousness for his reaction went away when she saw how thrilled he was. “I’m glad you like it!”

"Thank you,” he set it down and pulled her in for a hug. “This is beautiful. I’ll cherish it for a long time,”

Back at the dorm, Jimin took the time to look over the entire album. He looked at the polaroid of her, Jin, and him spending the day together during their trainee days.

‘Remember when you and Jin took me to this Korean BBQ place? You guys made me try out so many things. We should go back there sometime!’

At the end of the album, he noticed there were five custom themed Jennie Bakery coupons for whenever he wanted her baked goods.

‘Anything baked for you is on me! Just hand me the coupon! :)’

Grabbing one of the coupons, Jimin made his way to her room.

Jennie felt a gentle hand on her shoulder while she was seated at her desk on her computer. Glancing at the coupon, she smiled and looked up to see Jimin smiling warmly.

“I could use some of your cookies, right now,” he said kindly.

“You got it, birthday boy,” she stood up.

“Could I...bake with you? I don’t want you to do all the work,”

“Sure! Let’s do it,”

---------

For another Bangtan Bomb, dressed in her BST outfit in the dressing room, Jennie held baby Jordan, bouncing in beat as Bang Bang Bang by Big Bang came on shuffle from her phone. She was listening to music to pass the time while the rest of the members got ready.

‘Jennie feeling the energy of Big Bang while holding baby Jordan’

As she danced around to TOP’s rap, Hobi, who was done getting ready came to join her in dancing.

BANG! BANG BANG!

Standing next to him, she held Jordan securely against her chest with one arm and with the other, moved her arm around to perform the choreography of the chorus.

BANG! BANG! BANG!

Ppangya ppangya ppangya

BANG! BANG! BANG!

After dancing, Jen was asked to explain why she had a baby with her since fans would be curious why a baby toy was going everywhere with Bangtan.

Seated on the couch, with Jordan in her arms, she explained, “Jungkook and I are in a class where we have an assignment to take care of a baby. We named him Jordan. It’s kinda funny because taking care of this robot baby is like a sims game but in baby toy form. I hope we pass. So far it’s been smooth sailing. But apparently, it’s supposed to get harder as the assignment’s due date approaches. The teacher is very strict about making sure everyone does well on this project. Cheer us on, please,“

When Namjoon and Suga asked to play with the baby, Jungkook sat on the couch with Jennie and watched the rappers play around. Their fingers were intertwined as they sat comfortably while amused at the pair playing around with Jordan.

“Let’s teach Jordan how to rap. The ninth member of Bangtan. Baby Jordan, right here, and he about to be on the next rap line song!” Suga shouted proudly.

“I love! I love! I love myself!” the rappers began rapping the song to Jordan.

Sensing the Bangtan Bomb camera turning towards them, Jungkook quickly removed his hand from hers. They both scooted away to avoid looking too close for comfort in the nick of time as the camera caught them casually watching the two rap. Although it could just be edited, they still didn’t want to take any chance since ARMY is like the FBI these days.

“What are y’all doing?” Jen exclaimed as the camera caught the Golden Duo staring at them like they were crazy.

"I'm surprised Jordan hasn't cried. Maybe he likes it," Jungkook spoke up.

"Shit, you could be right," she replied as they heard the baby robot laugh.

------

With WINGS out, fan signs began for Bangtan as Jennie was met with the most common questions on whether she was dating V and what color she would be dyeing her hair next.

‘IS THIS REAL!? Did he really say this!?’

‘IT’S REAL GUYS! It is from today’s fan sign! He answered this for a fan!’

‘Taehyung and Jennie cannot be left alone in a room together no more. I don’t trust it!’

‘I knew something was up with the way they were staring at each other at music shows’

‘I’m maaaaaad as helllll rn. Why can’t it be me!?’

‘I lowkey be replaying THAT scene on the low because there is just no way that was acting’

‘PAUSE! The music video’s rating was supposed to be higher!?’

‘They were supposed to KISS!? I WANT TO SEE IT!’

‘Jennie! V! Explain yourselves!’

‘I’m amazed by their acting abilities to do what they did in front of the staff for the MV. I could never.’

‘All right dispatch, reveal that they’re dating! We waiting for that article’

‘Missed opportunity to kiss. BH made a mistake!’

‘I still have this image of Jennie being a baby. She’s acting sexy too quickly. Slow down PLEASE! I can’t handle this!’

‘Now I want them to kiss. Dammit Big Hit! Y’all dropped the ball!’

‘Imnotjealousimnotjealousimnotjealous’

‘I just want to know HOW she survived that scene because there is just no way,’

‘Can somebody please confirm if they’re dating or not because I cannot get over this’

‘Confirmed! Taennie is too hot for music videos’

‘Big Hit fix this NOW! #LetVAndJenKiss’

‘I believe it because the way he was with her against the wall was intense and had me screaming’

‘From all the YouTube reaction videos of BST, that scene was replayed the most by viewers’

Army on Twitter was in a frenzy when a K-Fan posted Taehyung’s answer regarding scenes that did not make the cut in the music video from today’s fan sign.

The photo consisted of a written response on the note the fan provided which had Taehyung say: ‘The music video was originally supposed to be rated 12 but due to Ennie and I, it was boosted to rated 15. At one point in the music video, Ennie and I were supposed to kiss. But they chose not to do it because the rating would have been even higher for the video. Kekeke’

---------

Backstage after recordings, BTS sat to watch their performances of 21st Century Girl and Blood, Sweat & Tears. Jennie took Jungkook’s seat next to Yoongi when he decided to stand behind the group with Hobi.

21st Century Girl was being shown and they commented on how good they looked.

“Look at me working hard!” Yoongi pointed out.

“V knows what’s good,” Rapmon said as he watched V in the front during the chorus.

“I love this song, oh my gosh,” Jen giggled as she watched herself dance around with Yoongi. She swayed a little to the beat.

“You and Yoongi had a lot of fun on this stage,” Jin noticed.

“They really did,” Rapmon chuckled.

“Jimin’s acting here is really good,” Jungkook said.

“Doesn’t he act well?”

Jimin laughed. “I’m going crazy over Rap Monster,”

“I didn’t know my eyes were that big until today,” Rapmon went on.

“Music Core always captures us nicely on camera,” Hobi praised. “The colors are so pretty,”

“It’s our first time watching our performance on TV,” Jin said as Blood, Sweat & Tears came on.

“Oh boy,” Jennie grinned nervously as she watched herself. She also analyzed how she moved so she could improve for their next performances.

“The set is really pretty,” Hobi looked on.

The boys started to tease Jimin about having a motor on his body with the way he moved and that Jungkook couldn’t imitate his movements.

“Of all the outfits he wore, this suits Jimin the best, I think,” Rapmon pointed.

“Agreed. This is definitely his era,” Jen praised.

When they saw his shoulder showing after his jacket slid off a little, the members laughed and pointed it out.

“His clothes came off! He’s showing off his body~!” Hobi shouted.

“Here he gooooooo~.” Jennie threw her head back, laughing with him.

“He practiced it all,” Jin declared.

“No, no~!” Jimin giggled and leaned forward.

“I think we should focus. Suga said he came out great on this performance,” Hobi changed the subject.

“Jennie~! Look at you go!” Rap Monster cheered.

“You’re growing up too fast for me,” Jin joked. “Are you trying to make ARMY nervous?”

“Perhaps,” she grinned sheepishly.

“Jennie’s expressions are no joke,” Suga said in amazement.

“Oh my gosh, I don’t remember making that face,” she pointed out as she watched herself sing.

Watching his girlfriend on the screen, Jungkook smirked softly and raised an eyebrow, taking in how good she looked.

“Jungkook’s outfit is very...” Jimin tried to think of the right word.

“It makes him look like an adult,” Rapmon answered

“He’s like an adult. It looks really sexy on him,”

‘You can say that again. How lucky am I? Whew,’ Jen thought as she bit her bottom lip softly, staring harder than usual at the screen when Jungkook appeared.

Once they saw Jimin back on the screen again, they watched as he did his shoulder accident once more, which caused them to go crazy.

“WOW~!”

“YASSSSSS!” she clapped.

-------

For SBS Inkigayo, BTS performed BST in a different stage setting. As soon as Rapmon said Peaches and Cream, Jennie felt a few buttons from her top pop off, revealing more cleavage than she wanted as she heard fans scream at the unexpected exposed skin and bra.

‘Nice...frickin’ nice...’ she thought as she professionally continued to dance while keeping a tight grip on her top.

After getting up from the floor, she was forced to dance with one hand.

Jin immediately noticed what was wrong when something in his gut told him to glance over at her. And there she was with a wardrobe malfunction. The audience screamed louder when they watched him take off his red jacket. As she desperately gripped her shirt to block her chest from being seen, Jin improvised their dance by having his red jacket in his hands to give to her.

“How much longer before you consume me?” she sang as she felt him place his jacket over her.

Putting her arms in it, her chest was now covered as she wore his jacket for the rest of the performance. It felt warm and it was pretty large on her. She was grateful.

Smiling, she caressed his cheek to go back along with their choreography. Gently pushing her hand away, he looked ahead like he was trying to go to the other side. Watching him walk past her where the rest of the boys were, she rushed up and hugged him from behind.

After the performance was over, Jennie was quick to rush backstage with Jin following behind her as they went to the dressing room.

“Is she all right? What happened?” Rapmon asked with concern as the rest of the members went into full protection mode to get to the bottom of what was wrong.

“That was embarrassing,” Jen cringed as her entire face was on fire from the sudden moment. Feeling angry about the situation, some tears went down her cheeks.

Hobi and Jin stood in front of her, trying to calm her down.

“Don’t do that. Don’t cry. It’s okay, Jennie,” Hobi cupped her face after Jin told him what happened. He used his thumbs to wipe her tears. “None of this was your fault. You’ve done so well, today. This hiccup will not overshadow that. You hear me, munchkin?“

She nodded and felt him kiss her forehead.

“I brought smarties to cheer you up,” Jin presented her with a bag, making her eyes light up. He always brought some with him just in case.

“Guys...thank you. And Jin, I owe you. What you did with your jacket, thank you. I appreciate you so much for what you did out there,”

“You said you wanted to be my daughter for a long time. I too want you as my daughter for a long time. I’ll always be here to protect you,” he blew her a flying kiss. “You know what? I recall this dad joke I heard a while ago. You know what it was?”

“What was it?”

“What kind of cheese can never be yours?”

“Um...not sure. What is it?”

“Nacho cheese!” he laughed.

She didn’t know if it was the dad joke or his infectious laugh that caused her to burst out in laughter but whatever it was, she was feeling better already.

“There’s that smile! Yay~!” Hobi jumped up and down with Jin.

Once the rest of the boys came in, they were told what happened and saw that Jin and Hobi boosted her mood. They were glad Jennie was doing better and kept praising her professionalism today. After the stylists had fixed her shirt and she leaned up against one of the tables, on her phone.

Jungkook lifted her chin and smiled softly when he approached her. “You all right?”

“Yes. I’m feeling better. Thank you,” she smiled.

“Wow, so we both had our shirts ripped together. How convenient,” he joked.

On this day, it seemed like the Golden Duo’s clothes couldn’t handle the performance. It looked like only one button was trying to hold on from Jungkook’s shirt as he performed. He understood that his situation was different given that he could easily reveal his chest unlike her.

“Yours was like BAM! Didn’t the arm rip, too?” she laughed as he showed her after unpinning the closed hole. “Wow, it did!”

After settling down in the dressing room, Jen tweeted. ‘Welp...#Jen’

Fans were quick to reply to express their sympathy for her:

‘Girl don’t even worry about it!’

‘She taking the sexy persona to a whole new level oml I am shooked’

‘Wait...what happened!?’

‘It’s okay! It happens to the best of us!’

‘Are you ok bby?!’

#ItsOKJennie trended after fans found out about the sudden malfunction. Even as they recorded a few times, for some reason her shirt would not function right and kept popping open. But what made their hearts soar was that Jin was the first to notice on stage and loved that he had given her his red jacket. Jin was praised all over Twitter for his quick action as fans called him a positive father figure for her.

On her Instagram, she saw a few antis coming in to express their disgust for the wardrobe malfunction.

‘What you did might be how you get famous in the West but in Korea we go based on talent. Showing your body won’t get you anywhere,’

‘Can you go a DAY without forcing your Americanness in Korea? No one wants to see your chest. Bad enough you’re all over the members on stage. It’s gross. I honestly think you planned that. There was no way that was an accident. You’re trying to be like Jimin and it’s not working. You’ll never be like him. Stop acting slutty’

'Hah...I got time today,' she thought as she decided to comment on the last one.

Jen typed, ‘Lol Bruhhhh. How come when the boys act sexy, it’s fine but when I act sexy I’m forcing my Americaness? Jeesh. I’m just trying to perform the best I can for you all. I look and feel amazing. Learn to love yourself and not be so hateful to others. With that being said, continue to support BTS and listen to WINGS’

The person deleted their comment and went private immediately, unable to take the heat of fans protecting her on social media. Dismissing the hate comments, Jen went on to stay in a positive mindset and focused on the supportive comments.

Scrolling through Twitter and Tumblr, the memes and gifs were already made from her incident which made her laugh. The K-Pop stans that enjoyed sexy moments were having a field day, trying to get any chance they could to see more sexy Jennie. What took her out was the slow-motion gifs of her top popping.

“I cannot with peopleeeee,” she laughed wholeheartedly, forgetting all about the embarrassment.

She tweeted: ‘These gif and photo reactions, y’all thirsty AF, ahahaha XD I don’t even got nothing. #Jen’

When she saw fans clowning her for not believing she had a nice chest and poked fun at her to help boost her mood, she tweeted, 'Issa whole push up bra. You know how that goes. Mistakes happen. I’m glad you find amusement in this. I do too thanks to U! #Jen'

She took the time to see a hashtag about her trending which made her heart soar. K-Pop fans really knew how to make idols feel great when they were at their lowest.

‘Thanks for the hashtag. I see it. Your tweets made my day better. I’ll be all right. Continue to support Bangtan and WINGS! I love y’all #ItsOKJennie #Jen’

-------

As promotions for Blood, Sweat & Tears continued, Jennie and Jungkook had been visibly stressed with juggling school and idol life. So, when they found out they had to record and perform at the KBS Open Concert on October 18th, the duo was not too pleased since they had exams the following day.

With no time to study due to practice and promoting? The duo was pissed.

Jennie seemed to have calmed down when she arrived at the show and saw her friends. She soon had the mindset that it was what it was and she would just have to go with the flow and do the best she could for the exam. Jungkook on the other hand was still irate and remained silent as his mind wandered to how he was going to be able to get any studying in. He even brought books to attempt to cram but did not get the opportunity to look over his notes because he was called for other tasks.

“Girl, I am going to fail tomorrow. This written exam is going to kill me,” Jen began venting to Hayoon as they walked together backstage.

“What? Why do you say that?” Hayoon asked in astonishment.

“Yoonie, they got me performing today and promoting left and right. Fan signs and I had no time whatsoever to study for this exam. I am so annoyed. You know how I am about school,”

“Oh gosh. And this is such a successful comeback for Bangtan. So more demand for you guys, huh?”

“Right? I’m so grateful for the success but it would be nice if the industry could give idol students a break to prioritize with our studies. But it seems like things don’t work that way, here. I dunno what I am going to do, girl. I’m worried about my grades,”

“Oh nooooo. And I saw Jungkook earlier. Is he all right? He kind of scared me with how visibly angry he looked tonight,”

“Oh boy. Yeah, he’s taking this situation harder than me. He is not happy. I’m trying to give him his space. I don’t want to annoy him,”

“Understandable. You think you’ll get any studying in after recording?”

“I need to. I have no choice. I’m going to have to just sacrifice sleep, tonight,”

After catching up with Hayoon, Jennie met up with BTS to prepare to perform BST and Fire. Bangtan walked on stage and got ready for their opening pose of BST. As the song began and they danced, Jungkook’s annoyance visibly showed on camera as well as looking like he wanted to be somewhere else instead of on stage. Jennie had a serious expression on her face as she performed, not even bothering to portray her trademark sexy persona for this performance. If anything, she just wanted to get this over with so she could study. She even found herself trying to think of what she had crammed for before arriving at the venue.

'Science was it? Damn it, I need to remember those formulas. Oh wait, I need to sing,’ she thought as she heard background music and saw some of the members glancing over at her when she almost missed her cue. She quickly snapped out of her thoughts and began to sing.

It was Suga’s turn to be with her for her part of the song and fans screamed louder when he came up and gently grabbed her neck. He held her close from behind as she leaned to the side. He spun her around and the pair continued to dance with one another.

“Only a matter of time before you screw me up and I’ll be stuck reminiscing,” she sang as she pressed her forehead against his.

Amused about their closeness, the two ended up smiling as they broke away and went back to their places as J-Hope rapped. As she performed, Jennie noticed familiar faces of her fansites that she met up with during her time in America. She smiled brightly at their cameras, acknowledging them. She even blew a kiss at one lucky fansite that was bound to get thousands of views alone from that moment. While hearing fans screaming and screeching out the lyrics, she couldn’t help but chuckle softly as she continued to move smoothly.

Once Fire came on, the members were hyping up the crowd. Jen glanced over at her boyfriend who was still visibly mad on stage.

'Oh boy. Fansites are going to have a field day with this,’ she thought.

ni meotdaero sareo eochapi ni kkeoya

As they leaned on one side, she locked eyes with Jungkook, initiating another nonverbal conversation.

'You good?’ she shot him a look of concern.

His eyes softened a bit as he didn’t want to take out his frustration on her. So, instead of rolling his eyes or giving her a cold response, he shook his head slightly while remaining serious on camera. The look he gave her was clear as it told her that he was still pissed about the situation they were in and that he just wanted to go home and study.

Oof. This was bad.

Whenever she glanced over at Jungkook with worry, he looked more irritated by the second as they performed. She didn’t blame him. The fact that they had to go to school after performing at this event late at night should be a crime. What she was not expecting was for him to be this angry at the situation that he would show off his emotions on stage. After the song ended, he rolled his eyes and walked off the stage. Meanwhile, Jennie hissed at the aching foot that had been bothering her all night. She had been on her feet all day and dancing in heels did not help. Once she was able to sit backstage, just keeping weight off the foot made her feel better. A massage would do the trick. And perhaps putting heat on it.

Nothing like a pair of comfortable Nikes to help as she put on a pair.

--------

The car ride back to the dorm went quickly as Jungkook silently seethed over having to cram for the exam in the morning. Once the car stopped at the dorm, he immediately got out after Jennie and Hobi did and slammed the door shut. The sound of him slamming the door made some of the members flinch.

“Jeesh, I didn’t think this was going to affect him this badly,” Hobi murmured, a little frightened at Jungkook’s demeanor.

Jennie exhaled and followed the group inside the dorm.

What do girlfriends do to help calm their angry boyfriends down, was the question on her mind as she watched her annoyed beau walk towards her bedroom door, ignoring everyone.

Jungkook turned and looked at her as if asking if she was going to follow him to her room. Once he saw that she was, he opened the door and let her go inside first.

“Leave the door open-“ Jin tried to warn but heard Jungkook shut the door after he walked inside. “Okay, but don’t lock it!”

Once he heard a click, indicating the door was locked, he sighed in annoyance while the rest laughed at him being ignored.

“Ah...let them rest. They have a long day tomorrow.” Namjoon advised.

“I hope he’s all right,” Hobi murmured.

“He will be,” Yoongi reassured. “Give the kids their space,”

“Ennie will make sure he’s fine. Let’s not bother them,” Taehyung thought positively.

“That means no knocking on their door. I fear he may get really angry at us and end up shouting or something,” Jimin added while keeping baby Jordan so they could try to study.

--------

With Jennie, she watched Jungkook lay face first into the covers. Her soft sheets made him feel comfortable as he rested, trying to control his emotions. He just wanted a moment of silence before cramming.

‘Should I give him space or...’ she pondered, not sure what to do in this situation.

She didn’t take it personally on him being in a foul mood and not wanting to speak to anyone. Everyone has their bad days. The main thing she wanted to avoid was saying the wrong thing and making him angrier. Deciding to leave him be, she went to her bathroom to set up a bubble bath. He could really use one. He had been working extremely hard during Blood, Sweat & Tears, she could only imagine how tense his muscles were tonight.

‘This’ll do for sure.’ she thought after being satisfied with the amount of bubbles in the hot water.

She put a ton of vanilla bubble bath liquid in the tub, making a bunch of bubbles. She then set up some scented candles around to enhance his relaxation. You can never go wrong with candles. When she came back to her bedroom, she found him standing up, wondering where she was.

‘Poor thing...you look so distressed.’ she thought with a sigh.

She smiled understandingly and pulled him in for a warm hug. The hug made him exhale as her arms wrapped around his waist, gently squeezing him. She felt him engulf his arms around her as she rested her head against his chest. They stood there for a while, enjoying the embrace. A hug could do so much as Jungkook’s frustrations began to melt away. The hug seemed to have started to make him feel better as Jennie felt his body relaxed. But she also noticed how tense his back was like she predicted. It began to bother her and she wanted to do something about it.

Looking up at him, she said, “Kookie, you’re tense,"

"I know...I'm just a little stressed out,"

"Here, take off your shirt and lay back down on your stomach. I’ll massage you for a little bit,”

Looking down at her, he smiled softly at her gesture but shook his head. “Ah, it’s fine. How about we just try to study and then go to sleep?”

She frowned and removed herself from his arms. “No, you’re stressed out, Kookie. I don’t like that. And I do not want you studying and going to bed with a tense back,”

“Baby, I’ll be fine.”

She rolled her eyes. “For goodness sake, what is with men being so stubborn? You know what?”

Quickly, she removed his black jacket, taking him by surprise as he watched her toss it on her bed. He was left in his black V-neck shirt which showed a large amount of his chiseled chest.

“Arms up. Now,” she demanded.

Amused by her sudden demanding voice, he smirked softly and raised an eyebrow.

"Okay, Miss Walker,"

“Stop, I'm being serious,” she cracked a smile, earning a low chuckle from him.

He did what he was told and she grabbed on the bottom of his shirt, slowly lifting it. Once it was over his head, she tossed it on the bed.

“Lie down,” she directed him.

She watched as he got on her bed and laid on his stomach. Feeling her weight on him, Jungkook relaxed under her touch as she went to work on his back, feeling the warm massage oil from her hands. He should stop being so headstrong and listen to her when it came to her massages. He was feeling a difference already as he let out a sigh of bliss. After finishing up, she got off him and he stood up, feeling refreshed as he stretched.

“There!” she happily announced. “All done. I prepared a bath. Go in there and relax. My iPad is there too for whatever you want to watch. And once you’re done, we try to cram and then get some sleep. Now while you’re doing that, I need to start cramming.”

After thanking her, Jungkook went into the bathroom to see the bubble bath prepared. He smiled at the bath. She always found the smallest things to pamper him with.

As he began to unbuckle his belt, a sweet vanilla aroma filled his nose as he looked at all the Bath & Body Works candles she set out.

‘You are always taking care of me. What did I do to deserve you?’ he thought with a smile as his previous negative emotions went away.

With Jennie, she stared at her textbook, confused by the science questions.

‘The heck is this? All I know is that the mitochondria is the powerhouse of the cell. What am I supposed to do with all the rest of this science stuff? I’m not going to go to college for science. Why am I learning this? Why is this on the exam? Ugh!’ she whined in her head.

“Screwed...definitely screwed...that’s a thing? I don’t remember this...mega screwed...aw damn it, I forgot I need to know these formulas,” she rambled, skimming through the pages. "Why can't we just use a cheat sheet? Fuck my life..."

“Baby?”

“Yes?” she looked up from her textbook to see Jungkook wrapped up in a towel, leaning against the door frame.

‘Oh my...’ she thought as she tried to keep her eyes up.

“The tub looks big enough for two,” he said smoothly.

Two...?

Her face began to heat up at his words.

Did he mean...

“You want me to join you?” she asked with surprise in her voice.

He nodded like it was the simplest thing ever.

“You should relax, too,” he added.

“U-um...all right. Can you just give me a moment?"

Jungkook seemed pleased that she accepted his offer and nodded again. "Yeah. I'll be waiting for you," he smiled and went back inside, closing the door.

Once her boyfriend was out of sight, she fell back on her bed and began freaking out in her head. She then proceeded to punch and kick the air in excitement and nervousness.

'Oh my God! A bath!? With Jungkook!?' she exclaimed in her head.

She got out of bed and started pacing around, trying to pull herself together.

'Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck! OKAY! BREATHE!' she rambled in her head as reality set in that she just agreed to take a bath with him.

She looked at herself in her large mirror, taking in her appearance. She was still in the attire she danced in for the event which consisted of a black dress with both slits high up and safety shorts. Grabbing a hair tie, Jennie put her hair in a high bun so her hair wouldn't get wet.

'You can do this. You can do this. It's just a bath. A relaxing...intimate bath. Girl...stop stalling. He's waiting on you.' she thought.

She let out a breath and then looked at her clothes. 'Should I...be the one to take this off...or should...'

Jennie glanced at the bathroom door and then back at her reflection. "Okay,"

When she went inside the bathroom and closed the door, she saw that Jungkook hadn't gotten in the tub yet and was patiently waiting for her as he leaned up against the sink.

"Hi," she smiled as she met his loving gaze.

Drinking her in, he returned her smile. "Hi,"

She noticed that he had dimmed the lights to set more of a romantic tone instead. What a view it was as she admired the new setting he provided for them.

“Wow, this is romantic,”

"You like it?"

"Yeah, this is sweet,"

"I'm glad. We never did anything like this before, have we?” he asked as he slowly made his way to her.

“This is a first. Um, could you help me?"

"Yeah, I got you,"

She turned around and once she felt him behind her, her heart rate quickened. Caressing her arms, Jungkook lightly kissed her left shoulder and grabbed the zipper of her dress.

“Relax, Jennie,” he said as he pulled the zipper down. “Let’s relax together and get our minds off the stress, okay?”

“Sounds good,”

As they both got in, Jungkook told her to sit across from him. The bath water was warm as the fragrant suds covered their bodies, relaxing their muscles. She then felt him grab her left foot gently and massage it. It happened to be the foot she felt the most aches and pains with. Despite being mad on stage, Jungkook was quick to notice her discomfort and made a mental note to take care of it.

“I-I thought YOU were supposed to be the one relaxing,” she exclaimed.

“I am,” he smiled. “Seeing you relaxed helps me relax, too. And besides, you hurt your foot. You need this bath as much as I do.”

“I thought I hid it. I didn’t think it was that big of a deal. The ache would go away after a day or two. I just needed to get off of it for a while. And I was kind of planning on massaging it myself while you were taking a bath,” she sighed in content as his large hands worked wonders on her foot.

“Lucky you have me, right? I prefer you to let me massage you, instead. So just tell me, all right?”

“I will,” she promised. “So, do you want to vent to me about how you've been feeling?"

And he did, expressing himself about how frustrated he was that they had to perform so late despite having an exam in the morning. After venting to her, he felt much better and they continued to enjoy their bath.

She watched Jungkook, who had his eyes closed with his arms stretched out, resting on the tub. Deciding to be playful, she made her way over to him and grabbed a handful of bubbles. Jungkook opened his eyes to watch her place bubbles all over his head, shaping it like a hat. He let out a laugh and she commenced to put bubbles around his face like a beard.

“There. My masterpiece is done.” she giggled, moving back slightly.

“How do I look?”

“Amazing, all thanks to me,”

Before he could speak again, she splashed him. The bubbles washed away from his face and his hair also got wet. He shook his head and wiped his face while she laughed out loud.

“I’m sorry, I had to. The look on your face!”

“That’s how it is?” he smirked and began to lean forward.

Widening her eyes, she quickly moved back until her back hit the back of the tub. “Back up! Stop!” she pleaded with laughter and shielded herself from his assault.

The splash was bigger than anticipated as it hit the iPad hanging against the wall. A few candles got drowned out, and some water spilled over to the floor, too, making a huge mess.

“Jeon Jungkook!” she exclaimed, wiping her face.

“Whoops. Maybe I overdid it,”

“You think!?”

“Sorry, honey! Oh no, your iPad!” he noticed and turned Jungshook immediately. He stopped freaking out once he heard her laugh.

“You are so damn extra, oh my God! Look at the mess you made. It’s waterproof. The case is waterproof,” she said, waving his concerns away. “No worries. As for the floor,” she glanced over to the large puddle along with their soaked clothes.

“We’ll live,” he replied and gripped the tub for support as he leaned over her to kiss her deeply.

As their bath continued, Jungkook said, “Come here,” and gently grabbed her to let her lean her back against his chest while his back rested against the tub. Feeling safe and relaxed in his arms, Jennie agreed to watch one episode of anime with him before leaving the tub. As the episode went on, Jen felt him kiss her temple.

"You are so good to me. Thank you for this. I love you," he said in her ear, making her smile.

She turned her head to look back at him and kissed him in response. "I love you, too,"

Things were going to be all right.

After their bath, and changing their pajamas, the couple stayed up to study, sacrificing their sleep. They sat on her bed with books and papers scattered around as they tried to refresh their heads on what the exam would entail.

“Remember, this is going to be on it. It’ll talk about these two topics. I remember the teacher pointing this out. Look at the notes and highlights,” she told him.

“Got it. We need to know about this one, too?” he asked with full concentration.

“Nah, they decided not to put that on the exam so we straight,”

“Good. I hated learning about that,”

“You and me both,”

Jungkook pointed out the Korean grammar to her. “We’re writing an essay on this topic. How’s your grammar looking?”

“It’s going. But it could be better,” she admitted.

“Let’s start with the basics and work our way up just like you did with me for English,”

“Do we have time for that?”

“I’ll make time,”

“Okay,”

A few hours went by as they continued to stay awake and make sure what they studied marinated in their brains.

“Oh, and the formulas. You gotta convert this to that. And then minus that from the second number, not the first,” she pointed it out to him.

He quickly did a practice problem and used his calculator.

“This it?” he showed her his answer.

“Hmmm, I got a different answer. Um...yeah, that’s wrong. You forgot to do this part,” she demonstrated.

“Ahhhh, okay. All right, what about this?” he did another practice problem and showed her his answer.

“Outstanding,” she praised.

A wide grin came across his features and he leaned in to give her a quick kiss. “Golden Maknae does it again,”

“You’re a dork,” she giggled and grabbed another textbook.

After another hour, Jungkook continued to work on math, getting the hang of what was needed.

“I think I got it. Babe? Babe? Jennie?” he looked up to see that she had fallen asleep.

He smiled at her sleeping form and then yawned himself. With sleep overpowering him, Jungkook found himself sleeping next to her with their books and papers still scattered on the bed. The couple had about two hours of sleep to spare before it was time to get ready for school. They were going to enjoy it while it lasted.

#bts 8th member #jungkook x oc #bangtan boys #bts #bts additional member #the bangtan gal #bts fanfic #bts fluff #jungkook fluff #bts fanfiction #jungkook x black oc #kpop black oc #kpop oc #bts added member #bts female oc #bts female addition #bts female member

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mercuryyc · 6 months

Text

Yugyeom moodboard! 🛋️

#amino moodboard #amino aesthetic #amino ddc #design amino #amino design #blue moodboard #got7 moodboard #kyum got7 #kim yugyeom got 7 #yugyeom got7 #kim yugyeom moodboard #kim yugyeom #yugyeom moodboard #yugyeom aesthetic #blue aesthetic #blueberry aesthetic

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suengmi · 1 year

Note

arguing with seungmin bc he doesnt display his affection in public so you think he’s embarrassed of you or doesnt love you. hurt/comfort pls

genre: long time friends to lovers, romance, angst/hurt, gn!reader warnings: cuss words, lil heated smoochin, mentions of intimacy, drinking/mentions of alcohol, eating/food, mentions of anxiety, not completely proof read!!!! i will fix any mistakes in morning!! word count: .............3k.... oops -- part 2 -- part 3

a/n: omg absolutely!!! i hope you like what i've written!!!!! i rly enjoyed writing this also seungmin doesn't get enough love... ill die on that hill anon

but yeah i did a bit of a back story for this and got carried away WHY DO I HAVE TO GO SO HARD I HAVE THINGS TO DO

♫ currently: running through the rain - yugyeom

╌╌╌╌ "is it me?"

you remember the first time you met seungmin. it was in year 11 high school, a while back now. you remember how it was raining the day you met, you remember how he was sitting in your allocated seat (the back row on the left). you remember how it was science class with the teacher who had bad teeth. you remember his bug eyes wide while scrolling through his phone and his fringe sitting on the top of his square glasses. you thought he was cute, in his own world mindlessly focused on his phone.

and you especially remember the way his head turned slightly as he was looking at his phone, bottom lip gently being chewed on while he was deep in thought.

but all of that seems distant now when you can feel the lump in your throat, almost like you're going to cough. "i think i like you?" you say in a confused tone, basically like a question you probably meant to think and not say out loud.

it had been about 7 years since you'd known seungmin, best friends ever since. he had been there through everything. your break ups, your ups and downs and you for his. you'd seen each other naked, seen the worst of each other but also the best. you had grown together as friends but more importantly as individuals. he cooked and you cleaned, it was a give and take.

seungmin had recently broken up with his partner of 2 years, and for some reason everything about them gave you the irk. the way they looked at him, the way they talked to him and especially the way they kissed him. every time you witnessed the displays of affection, a low twinge would sink into your chest. 'i just don't like them.' you'd say whenever seungmin confronted you about your attitude.

"you what?" seungmin laughs lightly, attention turning from the tv to you, chowing down on the kebab he had bought after you and your friends had a night out.

you take a sip of the coke in your hand, "yeah, i dunno."

seungmin laughs once more before realising that you might be serious. his expression turns sour, lip curling upward, "psh, you wish." he jokes, trying to brush off the probably drunk talk.

you needed to try something.

"seungmin, hey." you try to say softly, but it comes out more like a demand for attention. "i'm gonna try something."

he turns his gaze to you, eyebrows raised and mouth probably still full of kebab and kind of looking like a chipmunk. you stare at his lips, and you feel like he knows what you're going to do in a way. he swallows, but does nothing, just sits still and waits for your next move.

your kiss is gentle, lips just barely pressing to his. but within a moment you feel him press back against you, almost aggressively. it sends jolts down to your lower stomach, strokes of tingles running up and down your body. you can feel the way he's asking for permission to enter, just to taste a bit more.

so you allow him entry, feeling the softness of his breath against your lips as he changes directions. you let out a soft whine as he kisses you deeper, his body now aiming to lean over yours.

"'fuck.'" you pull back before he can deepen the kiss that's possibly gone too far. he's left slightly confused, but continues to take another bite of his kebab, as if nothing happened.

you groan in annoyance, arms falling beside you, coke spilling on the ground. "fuck, i do like you."

he chuckles, definitely not even worried about what just happened, "makes sense why you didn't like my ex, how long?"

you didn't talk for a day after, trying to process everything that happened. you left his house without a single thought, fleeing the crime scene you left behind.

it was a waiting game, seeing who would cave an text first. it wasn't like you hadn't kissed him before, a few times over the years - just as an affectionate gesture of how much you loved your best friends (which mostly happened when you were drunk).

as if ripping you from your thoughts you hear your phone buzzing on your lap.

"shit." you mumble under your breath, looking at the flashing photo of seungmin. it was one he sent you back in your days at university together when he did a charity event for kids. extra credit and all.

you let out a defeated groan, flapping your hands on the couch. you let out a held breath, composing yourself in time to answer the phone, you know that he'll just call ten more times if you don't answer, he always did.

"what?" you say stern, it was common for you to answer the phone like this.

"what?" seungmin mocks you before speaking plainly, "what you doin' tomorrow?"

you get up from the couch, walking towards your bedroom just to get your body to move. "nothing, day off."

"let's go out."

so yeah, this is how you ended up in this situation. you had been out a few times, just getting dinner but everything seemed normal at first? he hadn't made a move, just bought you dinner and taken you out more than usual. he didn't hug you like he used to, if anything he was keeping his physical distance. you were beginning to think he just wanted to forget about it, the kiss and the whole damn night of flirting you seemed to forget you did. it had been a month since this mess, a damn month.

you had spoken to a few of your other friends about it but no one had answers. anxiety welled up in your chest anytime you wanted to bring it up, knowing that the answer might not be the one you want.

it was getting to the point where you could barely sleep.

it was about the seventh time seungmin had invited you out on a 'date'. the clouds were hovering in the sky, looming over as if a bad omen. you two had decided to go and get some new clothes, but ended up with nothing but bubble tea and a few snacks, a recurring theme in your friendship all these years.

seungmin was talking about a new game he was playing, speaking intently about how his kill count was better than the rest of your friend group.

you looked down at his hand, just hanging by his side idly. you wanted to hold it, to feel his hands in yours. you were desperate to know what it was like with these new found feelings. to get even just a taste of the feeling you had that night you kissed.

so in step, you muster the courage to do so. you grab one of his fingers as you both continued to talk, hoping he would think nothing of it. unfortunately you were met by a jolt, seungmin pulling his hand back within a second.

he pretended it didn't happen, continuing to talk about whatever he was just now.

you stop in your tracks. it only took him a moment to notice, his expression blank as he turns to you. "you good?" he questions, taking a sip of his bubble tea.

"is it me?" you spit, anger laced in your tone.

"what?"

"what the fuck are we doing seungmin? is it me?"

he lets out a breath, rolling his eyes, as if he know exactly what he was doing. "i don't know what you mean."

he was playing dumb. he knows exactly what he did, he knows exactly how you feel. he's the one that asked you out, he's the one who asked to take this further.

"we go on dates, well," you huff, "not even-"

"and?" he questions interrupting you, feigning ignorance slapped on his face.

"are you... embarrassed of this? of what we're doing? are you just doing this not to hurt me? the fuck is wrong with you?"

he licks his lips, eyes avoiding you at all costs. "i genuinely don't know what you mean."

you scoff, the audacity of him taking you by surprise. "don't play dumb."

he says nothing, eyes downcast and guilty.

"you don't just- just kiss me back, then call me and ask me out and leave me hanging for a fucking month, a month seungmin! if you don't have feelings for me then fucking tell me. i'm not a little fucking baby, i can handle it." you feel tears well in your eyes, your tone accusatory and pointed.

''it's not that-"

you control yourself, resisting the urges to cry, "oh what is it then? you just enjoying playing with me like you played with your ex for those last six months?"

seungmin juts his jaw, anger sudden and present in his expression. "that's unfair."

you smile in disbelief, tongue running over your teeth, feeling almost insane at this point. "it's not."

you both stand in silence, trying to grasp at the right words to say but you're just hurt. so fucking hurt and you don't know if you'll ever be able to recover from this. seungmin knows you hate dishonesty even if it hurts, but he can't muster the courage to tell you what's really bothering him. you're surprised by his next move.

"it's you!" he blurts out, definitely yelling at this point.

"oh so it is me? i'm the fucking problem?! are you that embarrassed to be with me? do you just...not love me? ugh, fuck you seung-"

he raises his free hand forward in submission, trying to rectify his point, "it's because it's you. it's just... you." his expression turns somber as he speaks.

you frown, mouth open ready to say something, nothing comes out but, "elaborate."

seungmin sighs before throwing his bubble tea now empty into his bag. "it's just..." he trails off. you give him a moment. he had always been like this, not knowing the right words to say.

"i've been having trouble with... this." he speaks slowly, his eyes avoiding your own, gesturing between the two of you.

"obviously," you say in a snarky tone.

seungmin points to the set of benches near by. you walk before him, sitting down on the bench. he slowly sits next to you, little too close for the moment, his thigh is basically melded against your own. you were used to it after all, knowing each other all these years. closeness wasn't something you were afraid of but now, it made you uneasy.

"i know you like to interrupt but just... hear me out, okay?"

your lips curl to the side as you fold your arms over your chest at his remark, he's right though.

you just nod, willing to hear what your best friend has to say. any answer is better than not knowing what the hell was going on.

"that night you kissed me," he begins, looking out to the dark clouds, "it honestly... i don't even know what to think of it. i kept replaying it in my head, it's not like we haven't kissed before you know, and the fact that i kissed you back..."

you nod at him, understanding what he's beginning to say. fuck, he's going to do it. he's going to break my fucking heart.

he sighs, his hands fumbling in front of him, "it kind of makes sense doesn't it? you know my ex and i... i was completely empty for those last six months. they started to, i guess, notice things about you."

you frown in thought trying to put a finger on what he was talking about, arms still folded in front of you.

he starts speaking again after taking in a deep breath. "there was a night before we broke up. they couldn't stand you, couldn't stand the relationship we had and how long we had been friends. i just assumed it was because they were insecure, not because of us. but i think-" he pauses for a moment, gathering his thoughts, "i think they knew you liked me and that i favoured you over them. maybe they just saw it before we did."

you speak after a moment of silence, "before saw what? our feelings?"

"yeah," seungmin laughs, his head jerking to the side, "sexual tension so thick you could cut it with knife apparently."

you hum, kind of picking up the pieces now, sensing the direction it's going. "alright..."

he stands up and speaks plainly while walking in a circle, feet kicking some rocks on the ground, "you know every time you've stayed over, prior to you know, that night. i honestly just..."

"seungmin-" you interrupt, standing from your seat.

"let me finish." he says sternly, eyes still wondering around anywhere but you. "after we broke up, i started noticing things about you. like... things. maybe even before."

you hum, sucking on your top lip, listening intently to what he's saying. you're doing your best not to interrupt, words practically wanting to jump out of your mouth but you know he needs some time to speak carefully, to form the words he needs.

"you remember when you stayed at mine the night after i broke up with my ex?"

you think hard, remembering how confused he was that it happened. he never told you the exact details of what went on but you know if it was necessary to tell you he would of.

"mhm..." you nod, letting him continue.

"i thought, i thought i was just looking for comfort. you're my best fucking friend, and yeah, that's what best friend's do you know? and what i was thinking about you was just... nah. i hated myself for it, hated that i looked at you differently. hated that my ex knew exactly what i was thinking without me even knowing. it just all makes sense but, but now. what they said made so much sense, everything i do ends up with you, it always has."

he takes another breath in, hands messily pushing his hair back. he looks frustrated, like he's saying the wrong words.

"when you were in my bed that night, in my t-shirt, the one you always wear when you come over. saying you like how it smells every damn time you wear it, it drives me insane."

seungmin sits back down, his eyes tense and searching yours. it's silent for a moment. he nudges your leg, "help me out, please?"

you laugh, grin spreading across your face, kindness in your tone as you speak, "i thought you told me not to speak."

he was just scared. just scared of this. scared of what this would become. and you were too, he just showed it differently than you did.

he smiles softly, realising that he should have come to you, talk to instead of pushing you away. he huffs, "am i making any sense?"

"yeah, not really."

he sighs, rubbing his face in his hands. "i'm sorry. i'm just not sure how to go about this, and i just, feel like i'm doing something wrong if you want to touch me. i know you want to take this further and trust me i do as well but i'm just so fucking nervous. i don't know why, i've seen you naked a bunch of times and not cared."

"here," you say holding out your hand, "gimme."

he's hesitant for a bit, turning his eyes to ogle down at your hand, nerves building in his body. as soon as he feels his skin come in contact with yours, all the blood in his body seems to streamline straight to his hands, fingers alighting when he softly presses his palm into yours, carefully melding your fingers together.

"this okay?" you question, searching his face for answers.

"yeah... yeah it is."

"you could have just told me." you scoff, "you're such a bitch when it comes to your feelings."

he laughs at your remark but doesn't retort, just stands up pulling you with him. "where we going? we're not done!"

you walk hand in hand for a bit, checking in with him every now and then to see if he's okay with this. you don't want him to jolt again, nightmare fuel that was. you both agree that you'll talk more in depth when you get back his, knowing it's important to communicate since this is a seven year friendship, not just someone you had a meet-cute with. you end up talking about his game again, and notice how he squeezes you hand slightly whenever he gets excited.

the clouds had finally let out the rain they had been holding in since the morning, it throws you back to the day you met seungmin. but all of this, it still feels surreal, fairies dancing in your heart making it thump with excitement.

it didn't take long until you're both splayed out in the back seat of his car, your body on top of his. not one of you dare speak a word, not wanting to ruin this perfect moment of white noise from the rain mixed in with the sound of your own heated breaths.

you had so many questions, so many things you needed to know. when did he start? did he always like me?

but for now, with his soft large lips against your neck, trailing their way to your jaw slowly and precisely, you knew it was all you needed.

it was always you, always had been.

a/n: I THINK I WANNA DO A PART 2???????? HELLA maybe ill make it smutty

this was way longer then i was gonna make it fuck sake i always do this alkjsdlkajdljaslkjsj

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lillianren · 11 months

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Yugyeom: Do you think sex without love is a sin? 🤔

Mingyu: Well if it is, I'll see you all in hell. 😈

#incorrect kpop quotes #kpop incorrect quotes #got 7 #seventeen #seventeen incorrect quotes #got 7 incorrect quotes #got7 yugyeom #seventeen mingyu

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2015mai24 · 4 months

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Yugyeom (Ki Yu-gyeom) "GOT 7", Sänger-Songwriter-Tänzer

#yugyeom #arena homme+ februar 2023 #magazine #scans

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onewmin · 11 months

Text

the perfume on the shelf. pt. 6 | bangchan

Pairings: Bang Chan x Fem!reader, Kim Yugyeom x Fem!reader

Summary: Falling in love with your best friend was never a part of the plan. So you end it up. But does he want to put a stop to it, too?

Warnings: AU, Smut (minors dni), it’s not specified but the seggs is protected, a lot of kissing, oral (f. receiving), profanity, angst, a brief mention of self-harm, the reader and everybody else is mentally unstable (who isn’t right), mentions of alcohol and drinking, mentions of smoking, Lee Know flirts with a girl, another shitty cliffhanger in the end, typos

Author’s note: originally, this part was planned to be longer and cover the period after the ending, but I felt like it would’ve been too much. It’s not as long as I wanted it to be and maybe not that heartbreaking, but the pain still awaits you later hehe hope you enjoy the chapter!! Let me know what you think!!

Disclaimer: the names and appearances of real people are used for inspiration and writing purposes only. I do not claim anything, everything belongs to its owners.

Part 5 | Part 7

Despite Chan’s constant doubts and destructive thoughts about you still being in love with Yugyeom, that was far from the truth.

Yugyeom was a lingering memory, a bright sun ray that shone to you many years ago. Now he was just there, in the past, while Chan himself had occupied the pedestal inside your heart.

However, you really wanted him to fall down from it this time.

It’d been three weeks since he pushed you off the cliff of love and hope, leaving you to an inevitable, gruesome fall. You fell down from the highest peak into the lowest pit, and there was nothing. Just darkness and loneliness. Although the latter was not for long.

A couple of days after Chris broke up with you, Minho showed up at your door, bottles of beer in his backpack. You got drunk while watching another stupid reality show and ended up crying on the floor, the two of you sobbing in unison.

“He said to me”, Lee Know hiccuped, wiping the tears from his cheeks, “he said, ‘You’re an asshole, Minho’”, his imitation of Chan’s voice was so on spot, you let out a half-laugh through your tears.

“I’m an asshole? For putting up with his terrible dancing and constant nagging that his feet hurt?” Minho was hitting his chest with the fist, the two of you now sitting on the couch. “For sticking with him when his first album flopped? For investing my time, my life in his fucking career?”

You were nodding frantically, chewing the chips, the cheese taste mixing up with salty aftermath of the tears, streaming down your face.

“Never have I ever been an ass to him! Ever!” The tone of his voice rose, cracking when he started sobbing again. “And now he basically fires me! Me! His best friend!”

“No fucking reason”, Minho was lying on the floor again, with you sitting next to him. “Just this sudden bullshit. Why would he do this to me? To you? To us?”

You shrugged your shoulders, taking another sip of beer from another bottle. Was it your third? Fourth one?

“I can’t understand what’s inside his head”, he sighed. “Is it the concussion speaking for him or was he like that the entire time?”

You took a deep breath and exhaled in response. Weeks spent crying and drinking with Minho at both yours and his places, talking shit about Chan and how unfairly he treated the both of you. And neither you, nor Minho had come to any sort of common conclusion. He stood his ground, stomping his feet drunkenly, his words slurring, saying Chris might’ve hit his head so bad that all of the common sense flew out of the window.

You noticed a slightly hilarious pattern: Minho was ready to come up with any bizarre theory in order to excuse Chan’s behaviour. He pushed the both of you away because of the concussion, Lee Know was confident that was the truth. You, however, couldn’t agree with him.

The more you drank after work, the more you threw up afterwards, sitting on the dirty tile floor of whatever bar you were in, the less you could excuse Chris. Sure, he suffered from the aftermath of the accident, this you could understand. But his sudden change of demeanor? Beyond your comprehension. No therapist in the world could’ve explained this to you. Yours included.

“Don’t you think this is a sign you’ve been waiting for? The sign to leave this guy and move on with you life?”

Ah, crap. Could this woman not memorize everything you say? “I don’t think so”.

“Why’s that?”

“Because, I think, he’s just hurt. And he’s trying to push everyone away so that… So that we don’t see him… like this”.

Oh wait, was it your savior complex hitting up again? How mysteriously hurt poor Chan must have been! Pushed everyone away, humiliated his best friends in their own eyes, and told you he lost interest the second his love stopped being unrequited! Poor Chan! How must he suffer!

Oh yeah, he must. Sitting at another bar, Minho’s drunken ranting as the background music, you wished with all your heart Chan was suffering. He put you through so much, making you love him, care for him, and then he made you hate him. To be honest, though, “hate” was a strong word to use; hating him was still impossible. You despised the man he turned out to be, even if he lied to you about ‘falling out of love’ for some reason.

“What fuckin’ reason there has to be to say that shit? What’s the fuckin’ fuck?”

The look on your therapist’s face gave away her genuine surprise at your sudden loss of composure. In over than two years of therapy, you had never even cried during sessions. You’d curse, get slightly angry, but never too emotional. You called this an ‘emotional constipation’, just to make your therapist crack a smile. A clown is always a clown, you’d say, taking pride in getting her to laugh. Although the fun would always wash away when she immediately started writing stuff down.

“Go on”.

Two simple words would bring you to the literal edge of glory: you jumped from your seat, aggressively walking from one corner of the room to another, curse words spilling from your mouth; also, of course, you blamed god for everything — if you could, you’d include your religious trauma in every conversation possible.

“If God was real”, you’d keep on, “would he ever allow Chan in my life? Would he ever let that happen?”

“Did God choose to be in a relationship with Chan, or was it you?”

How dare she? “How dare you?” You stood up, snatching your bag from the floor. “Am I the bad guy here?”

“No”, she said softly, not even moving a muscle during your tantrum, “you’re not, but you desperately want someone to be the bad guy. You cannot paint Chan as a villain because you love him”, you huffed at her words, “but you don’t love the God. So in this case, the latter has to be the bad guy. Correct me, if I’m wrong”.

She was not indeed wrong. But you were resisting therapy: if not, you’d have to face the truth — there were no bad guys. Everyone was just human, making human mistakes. The ones you’d been constantly making while choosing to stay in this relationship with Chan over and over again.

Like him fixing your dinner three months in a row after he came back from tour. Or him helping you take showers when your leg was broken. Or taking care of your cat when you went to see your parents.

He was doing basic shit! Basic shit every decent human being would do when their close friend needed that! Although it’s pretty hard not to praise men when they do the bare minimum, right? ‘Cause it’s so rare. Rare for you specifically, as every man in your life — apart from Yugyeom and Chan — was a self-centered piece of garbage.

And you could take Yugyeom for granted, as he wanted you to have it that way, because he saw the way your father treated your mother — “You’ve got to have an example of a healthy relationship. And I will give it to you”.

Why did he leave then? Why did you leave and led me to keep on falling for the mere shadows of you, Yugyeom?

You shook your head, trying to get rid of the thought. Lately you’d been remembering a lot of things about Yugyeom — probably because you met him all those weeks ago. The most disturbing thought? Oh, it wasn’t that good. It was horrible, so horrible that you had to physically distract yourself.

“Why did you order more drinks?” You looked at Minho, who leaned back in his seat, eyes wandering around the bar room. “Earth to Minho”, you waved your hand in front of his face, while he was staring through you. “I’ll cancel it”.

“No!” Your eyebrows raised in question, as he jumped up from his seat. “This bottle will be the last one, I swear”. Minho grabbed your hands in his, silently begging to let him have the last drink. However, you were not going to indulge in; you found yourself getting accustomed to drinking, to drowning your sorrows in the alcohol. You were tired of it.

You were never the type to get addicted to some bad habits: smoking never stuck to you; you did smoke for a couple of months after your breakup with Yugyeom and you did it occasionally during your latest relationship, but it was never something you couldn’t live without. Drinking, on the other hand, could become addictive if you just didn’t quit it.

How easy it was, to sit around the table with your friend, sipping on alcohol, empty bottles creating a circle on the surface. Eventually you’d run out of space, and that was the reason to pay and leave. Same thing happened to you several years ago, when Yugyeom and you put an end to your relationship; Chan had to drag you from bars and hide alcohol from you so that you wouldn’t have drown in pain. Yeah, you couldn’t get an addiction, as you thought. But you were becoming quite a regular at a broken hearted people pub.

Amidst your verbal fight with Minho, whose retorts consisted of non-comprehensive drunken blabbering, his hands gripping the beer bottle while you were trying to tear it away, you heard a familiar voice behind you. As happy as you were to hear her, the sound of her high-pitched, usually matter-of-fact voice somehow brought chills down your spine.

“That’s enough”, Eunjoo moved you to the side, the grip of her hand on your shoulder making you squeeze your eyes shot. Has she been working out? “Give me that”, she took the bottle from Minho’s hands with almost no effort, as he seemed to oblige to her mere presence. His eyes followed Eunjoo, when she put the money on the table, her fingers tucking a strand of black hair behind her ear. You might have been tipsy, however, the way Minho stared at your best friend couldn’t escape from your attention.

“What’re you doin’ here?” You frowned at her, while Eunjoo observed Minho. Oh right, it was the first time you old best friend and your new bestie met; before that you had no idea whatsoever, but now you thought that they kind of had the same vibe to their personalities.

“Came to collect you”, she replied. What? First she uses a contraction, and now she starts a sentence without the subject in it? Is it really Eunjoo?

“To be honest”, she continued, “I’m really tired of your regular hangovers. Especially I’m tired of your absolutely fucked out look at our job. Where you need to work, and not nap every two hours”. What the literal fuck? Did Eunjoo just curse? Wha-a-at? “I wonder, why you’re still not fired. Oh wait”, she pointed a finger in your direction, “it’s because I’ve been covering for you”.

You sighed. Knowing that it wasn’t the best thing you’d done, you felt the wave of embarrassment rush through your body. Eunjoo had to cover your hangover in front of the boss, and you were forever grateful. If only you had actually thanked her for that.

“Anyways, I’m here to take you home”, this time, her touch on your shoulder was gentle. “And this… friend of yours, too”.

“I’m Minho”. He suddenly appeared in front of Eunjoo, almost pushing you away. You grimaced at his awkward attempt to get her attention.

Eunjoo nodded in response to his words; she didn’t look as if he’d interested her in any way. Hopefully, he won’t, you thought, fastening the seatbelt on the passenger seat of her car, Minho might be a good friend, but his dating history is pretty ugly.

Oh yeah? And Chan’s dating history is all about rainbows and flowers? Isn’t he the one to toss girls away when they reciprocate the love?

You let out a deep sigh, Minho’s drunken flirting with Eunjoo serving as a background for your thoughts. With all the love you had for Chris, either as his friend or failed lover, it was impossible to wrap your head around the bullshit he told you. You wished you could talk it out, spill your secrets and unsaid words, but he didn’t want to. He went radio silence for weeks without any warning, so he wasn’t interested anymore, right?

It isn’t like you could text him, yeah? It isn’t like a dialogue requires two people for it to happen, is it?

After dropping off Minho at his place — and his unsuccessful attempts to get Eunjoo number — she drove you to your apartment. The ride was accompanied by a midnight radio program with the very familiar host to the both of you.

“How’s Youngjae doing?”

“Fine. As far as you can hear, he enjoys his job very much”. Ouch. Your attempt to break the silence was a failure.

“Eunjoo-“

“Shut up”, she hit the brakes at the red light, her sharp knife voice cutting through you. “I get it, okay? You’re going through a tough time”. Youngjae’s contagious laugh filled the car, but this time, none of you smiled. “But you’ve got to move on too. If you keep on drinking, you’ll lose your job. And what are you going to do, huh? Is this Minho going to give you money? Or, d’you think Chan will do it?”

You shook your head, eyes squeezed shut, head low. Felt as if your mother had been scolding you. Only Eunjoo knew you better than your mom did, and Eunjoo was actually sincere and worried about you. She was your best and only real friend, after all.

“You’re smart”, she took a turn to your apartment complex, “smarter than all of those guys. Smarter than Chan”. The car stopped at the parking lot, both of you sat in silence for a moment.

“Don’t waste your life on chasing someone who doesn’t want you”, she covered your hands with hers. “Don’t drink your life away because he decided you weren’t good for him. You might be not enough for this asshole, but you’re certainly enough for everyone else, for me, for yourself. He’s not worth your suffering”.

Your eyes welled up at the words. Pulling her in for a hug, you had to blink rapidly to avoid another crying session.

“Thank you, Eunjoo. Thank you for everything you do for me”.

She hugged you tighter. “You’re always welcome. I know how hard it is for you to say this, and I’m thankful, too”.

“You may take all of the time in the world to overcome this pain”, the two of you were face-to-face again, “you shouldn’t bottle your emotions up. Just… Just talk to me instead of drinking, okay?”

You nodded, a smile creeping up on your lips. Eunjoo’s cousin laughed again, his radio program turned into another comedy show, and the two of you giggled at him. Never in your many failed friendships and toxic friends would you think a girl with a rigorous attitude with whom you had to share the same space at work, could be your closest friend.

Your cat greeted you with serious complaints and loud purrs, obviously demanding food and attention. Several minutes passed before you took your clothes off and stepped into the shower.

Chan used to say that showering together would help saving water, and you always chuckled at his proposals. It’s not like you ever rejected his shenanigans; you didn’t indulge in shower sex, but being naked with him under the water was another intimate moment to cherish.

You hated how everything was about him. Every surface of your flat was interwoven with the memory of him, his fingers squeezing your hips, lips brushing over yours, head in the crook of your neck. He was with you in the shower; he was cooking in your kitchen; he was sprawled on your couch, watching another episode of that dating reality show; he was snoring in your bed, his legs atop of yours. There wasn’t a single place in this apartment that he hadn’t graced with his touch. And you despised yourself for still craving his presence, even after all the pain he caused you.

Brushing your teeth, your brain visualized Chan behind you, a toothbrush in his hand, the other wrapped around your waist. Every little action of his was engraved in your head, not letting your breathe even for a second. How were you supposed to move on when the only thing you see was Chan?

“Do you want to move on?” Your therapist asked you.

“I don’t know”.

“Let’s put it into a different perspective. During your last conversation, he stated he’s been in love with you. Correct?”

“Yes”.

“He also said he liked the process of ‘chasing’ his potential partners. Correct?”

“Yes”.

“And he added that whenever someone reciprocated, he’d lose interest. That includes you. Correct?”

“Uh, yes”.

“After all of the above-mentioned, do you still believe he’s in love with you?”

“Yeah”, you breathed out, the voice of yours being unsteady. “I guess”.

“Why?”

“Because… Because”, you almost choked on your words, “he couldn’t fall out of love with me just suddenly. He couldn’t”.

Coming back to that conversation over and over again, you sat on the floor in your living room, tears falling down your cheeks. Was he ever truly in love with you, or was it another projection of yours? And if he was, how could he be so cruel?

A phone call distracted you from yet another sobbing section of your ‘pining over Chris’ daily program. Of course, only Han Jisung would call you at 1 A.M.

“Sorry for the late night call”, he said after countless apologies, “I just thought I should tell one of you”.

“Tell us what?”

“He’s insufferable”, Han whined, “I dunno what to do to bring him back to his normal self. He’s sulking, keeps being silent and just-“ You heard him sigh. “He’s constantly in his bed. Either sleeping or napping. Or he just lies there, watching the ceiling”.

You kept quiet for a swift moment only. “What d’you want me to do? Call his therapist or something”.

Jisung let out a nervous laughter. “Yeah, like his parents haven’t tried that already. He doesn’t speak to therapists”. Han’s heavy breathing signaled at him being on the verge of crying. Shit, Chan had fucked everyone over.

“He falls asleep quite often”, Jisung continued. “And he sleeptalks, y’know that. And when he does that, he only says your name”.

No. Ah-uh. No. Just no. Why would Han say that?

“So please, if you can, just come and see him. You want him to get better too. I know that”.

Your phone was on the floor next to you, as you scratched you nose to avoid crying. But your lip began to tremble, tears collecting in the eyelashes and everything turned into a blur — there were just your tears, and your wails muffled as you hugged your knees tightly. You used to get noise complaints for your loud moans of pleasure; however, now you’d get some more complaints for your almost-howls and incredibly hurtful sobs. Your chest was aching from the heavy breathing mixed with cries, and your jaw was in pain from open-mouthed inhaling and exhaling. That was a breakdown, such an extreme and terrible one that you couldn’t even see anything because of the amount of tears collected on your eyelashes.

If he was so hurt, why, why would he bring you so much pain? If he was so pathetic afterwards, why break up with you in the first place? Why? Why? Why?

Because he’s an asshole, your inner voice interfered, and because he doesn’t know how to express basic human emotions. You did your best for him, tried your hardest to overcome the most difficult thing — inability to express your emotions. You were there, on your knees in front of him in that hospital room, begging him to love you. Begging him to give the two of you a chance. But he rejected you back then. And now, what? He was mournful? Pining over you?

Ah-uh. He lost the right to it the second he shitted in your ears with that ‘the thrill expired’ bullcrap. He should’ve had a normal fucking conversation with you, talking about his feeling, working it out. But no, this asshole decided to leave you with a plate of shit and run away from human communication just to, what seemed like, die in complete loneliness. The loneliness he created himself. It was nobody’s fault but his.

“I hope he feels what I felt”, you mumbled while washing your face in the bathroom. It was still puffy, under eyes and lips red from all the crying you did; you cursed Han and his damn phone call. Why was he such a good friend? Oh yeah, probably because Chan hadn’t been a fucking butthead to him. Smart choice; otherwise, Mr. Bang would have no more friends left in his life.

You wouldn’t go and see him, right? “Right, of course I wouldn’t”, you stated out loud when raiding your closet in search of that lingerie set Chris loved. Just in case, you kept on telling yourself, I’m looking for it just in case.

You sat on the bed, wearing the said bra and panties, facing the mirror. Disheveled hair, a puffy face, your neck and chest red from all the nervous scratching you did in the last few minutes. It wasn’t like you were going to actually see him, right? And, what’s more important, you weren’t going to let him touch you again, were you?

“I’m not”, you were, as always when alone, talking to yourself; now, as you ran from the bedroom to the living room, dressing up, brushing your hair, you abruptly stopped mid your shenanigans.

Right in front of you, in your bedroom, on that bookshelf with all the books you’d bought but never read, was that damned perfume. Gently kept in between the books, so that your cat wouldn’t throw it on the floor, that perfume bottle was the most vivid proof of your and Chan’s relationship. The only thing, besides photos and gifts, that could transcend you to every moment spent with him. You hated this fucking perfume.

Spraying some on your skin, just on the back of your neck and your wrists, you put it in the bag. You petted your cat, promising you’d come back just in a couple hours, and then the lights in your apartment went off, keys turning in the door.

What the hell were you doing? One call from Jisung, swearing Chris was suffering without you, and? You were wearing that lacy lingerie under your clothes, clean-fucking-shaved, smelling like his favourite perfume, riding in the cab? That’s how easy it was?

You shook your head, disagreeing with your own thoughts. You were desperate to feel him again, to wrap your hands around him, to kiss his plushy lips, to run your hands through his hair. You needed that more than air, but you also couldn’t keep this up just in the name of love.

He was your temple, taking up all of the space in your life. Everything was about Chan, every day of yours accompanied by the presence of him. In those several months of being with him, you found yourself behind the closed doors; you locked them with your own hands. Cancelling plans just in case Chan called? Done. Not communicating with some of your old friends just because they didn’t like Chris? Do-o-ne. You practically had no hobbies by now, because your only hobby had been Chris, and how to keep him interested, and how to make him laugh, and how to make him fall in love with you.

How unhealthy was that?

So now you were going to end it. For good. You were ready to take the last leap and jump, just to get it over with. ‘Cause no matter how much you loved him, you were exhausted. And no amount of love could outweigh the tiredness this relationship had brought you.

And you were there. Staring at Chan, who was wearing his gray pajama pants and nothing more, dumbfounded look on his face. You couldn’t but notice a slight bulge, and you swallowed, images of him floating around your mind.

He let you in, still not a word said. You put the bag on the drawer, quickly putting the perfume bottle on it. You’d leave it here; if he was so desperate to see you, next time he could just spray some perfume around to pretended you were there. You were going to leave this perfume to him, because to you, it was too hurtful to even look at.

You turned around to face him. In the dim light of his apartment, Chan looked pathetically beautiful, as if he’d been a God, sent to Earth just to become your fatal personal tragedy.

One step further. You were right in front of him, hands carefully cupping his cheeks. He watched you with caution, as if you’d been a hallucination, destined to turn into air the moment he dared to touch you.

Today would be the last time he ever lands his hands on your body. The last time you ever let him this close.

No words exchanged between the two of you, when he leaned in, his lips lingering over yours, just slightly touching. Your eyes darted from his lips to his eyes, and there it was. With that simple look, he squeezed your waist and pounced on your lips. You dived in, letting his tongue meet yours in a passionate, i-missed-you-so-much dance. You kissed and kissed, and the only thing you could taste on his lips was betrayal. Because no matter what he was doing now, the memory of him torturing you with his words would forever be engraved in your mind.

When you finally broke the kiss, he was looking at you with a wide smile on his face. Oh, darling Chris, you thought, insinuating yet another heavy kiss, this is not a make up type of situation. You’re getting dumped tonight.

Your back was against the wall, his hands under your shirt, dancing on your bare skin, but not touching where you needed him. Between lips nibbling, him trailing kisses down your chin, teeth grazing down your neck, you could feel the pool of arousal in your panties. Chris could feel it too.

Now your back was against the mattress, his silky sheets welcoming you back in their embrace. Chan was hovering over you, looking you deep in the eyes, touches lingering all over your body, as if you were made out of porcelain, as if he was scared to break you. Too late for that, the inner voice stated, while you roamed your hands all over his body, you already broke me, Chris.

Withholding this intense eye contact while taking off your jeans, Chan let out a gluttural sound, almost a growl, when he saw black lace panties — the set he bought you himself. He trailed kisses from your knees up to inner thighs, humming into your skin. He sharply sucked the same skin into his mouth, marking you as always. Some of the bruises looked like stars when fading away, and you used to think your thigh scars, left there by your teenage self, were vanishing under the love bites Chris was leaving.

But the stars did fade away, and the scars stayed. Under the stars, you were still bleeding — but this time it seemed to be unstoppable; you felt as if you could die from all of that internal bleeding.

A tender kiss Chris left on your yet closed core got you arching your back, your hand immediately landing on his head, fingers in his soft curls. You knew he was smiling when taking off your panties, and you felt it when he left soft kitten licks on your now dripping pussy.

He responded to your moans with a hum, sending vibrations all over your body. You tugged on his hair.

“Are you going to actually fuck me tonight?”

These were the first words uttered tonight. Chris grinned and took his pants off in one swift movement. His dick, hard and leaking with pre-cum, seemed to hypnotize you. You briefly noticed saliva running down his chin from all the excessive sloppy kisses he’d been giving your folds and a smug smile on his face — all just ‘cause he got to taste you again.

“I’m going to”, his knee was between your thighs now, “fuck you senseless”. He tugged on your earlobe with teeth, making you moan into his shoulder.

Slipping a finger inside your slit, Chris caught your whimper by his mouth, covering your lips with his. His thumb pressed to your clit, drawing circles around it, and you almost lost the thin thread connecting you to the harsh reality. It was your last time with Chris. Last time kissing him. Last time being his girl.

“Oh, fuck”, Chan groaned, when you reached for his cock. The mere touch of yours made him twitch and stop all of his movement to keep his composure. “You’re killin’ me, baby”, he rasped, head buried in the crook of your neck.

No matter what he said, you still battled with your reasonable self: she told you not to lose focus, to get pleasure but to never forget — you were leaving him for good. Your emotional side, however… She was already on the cloud nine, willing to obey to any command Chan requires from you. But even her, this bubbly and sweet self of yours — even she knew this pleasure would turn into pain later. Although she didn’t mind loving Chris, even she couldn’t be in love with him any longer. Even your tender persona had found out how much pain Chan inflicted on you.

Pushing in his girthy cock into you slowly, Chris stared right into your soul, observing the way your face expression changed. Your mouth fell open, eyes hazily watching him mirroring you, his grip on your hips tightened. You’d have crescent marks in the morning — the last signs of your love with him ever existing.

Finally, swallowed by warmth, Chris bottomed out, letting you adjust, as you gripped him, head thrown back. He peppered kisses all over the side of your neck, hands massaging your breasts slowly, pinching nipples to make you gasp.

As he sluggishly thrusted into you, Chan couldn’t take his eyes off you. You knew he was watching, as he always did, but you just couldn’t bring yourself to stare back at him. You wanted to cum, not to cry.

As he felt you getting comfortable enough, Chan set a pace, massaging your inner walls in a frantic tempo. You squeaked every time he hit that spot, burying himself deep inside of you. You grinded against him, begging for more friction, as your nails left marks all over his shoulders.

“This is what you want?” His thumb started drawing circles on your clit, your composure long lost under the thick layer of pleasure.

Except for your mewls and Chan’s groans, the sound of skin on skin clapping was filling in the room. Although the way your pussy squelched every time Chris pounded into you was the only sound you could hear.

“Shi-i-i-t”, he hissed, his cock throbbing inside of you, “I can’t g-get enough of y-you”, Chan stuttered, your walls fluttering around his cock made him lose his mind little by little.

“I love you”, he huffed, forehead pressed to yours, “I love you so fucking much”.

Savoring his words — words you hoped to hear every time you were this close, you couldn’t bring yourself to reciprocate. You wish you could give in and forget all of that like it was a bad dream. You wish you could. But you never would.

“Shut up”, your breath hitched as you pulled him in for another sloppy kiss.

You’d yield to temptation one more time, to feel his hot breath on your skin, to feel the shockwaves gripping your body as you saw the stars while he chanted your name, reaching his high. The sheer layer of sweat covering the both of you, Chris watched as your breath steadied and you got up on the wobbly legs.

“Wait for me in the shower”, he puffed, still laying on his back, eyes shut.

“I’m going home”.

You stepped out of the room, collecting your jeans from the floor when he appeared behind you. “What? Why?”

You sighed. “Do I really need to explain this to you? After everything you’ve done to push me away?”

“But I-I thought… You and I, we…”

“What? Fucked?” You put your jeans on and huffed at his words. “Doesn’t mean anything. Doesn’t mean I’m going to stay with you after you pushed me away”.

“I’m so sorry”, he whispered. Chan screwed up his face and sniffed, and deep inside you felt like shit for making him feel this way. “I’m an idiot, baby, I have no excuses. Just if-“

“No”, you retorted. “No. You’re only interested now ‘cause I’m out of reach again, aren’t I? ‘The thrill of chasing’, that’s how you call it?

“Baby…” His eyes were closed as he let out a deep sigh. Yeah, you fucked up big this time, Chris. There’s no way out.

“Is there anything, anything I can do for you to forgive me? Please?”

“Yes, there’s one thing. Disappear from my life forever”.

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