#i also don’t just want to be known as a jjk blog which i feel like … i kind of am now maybe : | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

Visit Blog

Explore Tumblr blogs with no restrictions, modern design and the best experience.

Fun Fact

In 2020, 44% of users from Denmark used Tumblr daily.

#i also don’t just want to be known as a jjk blog which i feel like … i kind of am now maybe :

thefanficmonster · 3 years

Text

Caught Red-handed

Corpse Husband x Reader (Gender Neutral)

Warnings: Swearing, Struggling with migraines

Genre: Fluff, Comfort, RPF (Real Person Fic)

Summary: Having suffered from migraines all their life, Y/N knows better than to give them much attention or let them hinder their work too much. However, their boyfriend is a lot more worried than they are and has taken it as his personal duty to ease their pain as much as he possibly can.

Requested by Anon. Hi dear! Thank you so much for your request, I’m so sorry it has taken me so long to get to it, write and post it, but here it finally is and I hope you come across it and read it! I’ve never experienced migraines nor have I known someone who has so if I’ve misrepresented or written any misinformation, anyone who catches it, feel free to let me know either in the comments or in my inbox/messages! Love, Vy ❤

The first time I got a headache was in the middle of math class in eighth grade. I remember it so distinctly because I had never before experienced such sudden and such intense pain. I got to go home early that day and spent a good portion of the day trying to sleep it off but to no avail.

Since then I’ve grown used to having to deal with a pain so strong it renders me unable to function for a whole day about two times a month. Sometimes, I even try to be stubborn with it - I try to push through as much work as I can despite the migraine, but that never works out for a long time considering it ends up crippling me in the end. That’s never kept me from trying over and over again though!

Now, to contrast my nonchalance and even annoyance with these pesky attacks, is my boyfriend Corpse’s concern over them. I’ve tried explaining to him that I’ve grown used to them and that I try not to let them bother me and that he shouldn’t stress over them so much but I may as well be talking to a wall because all he has to do is see me squint my eyes or cringe and he enters concerned-mother mode. Don’t get me wrong, I appreciate it to no end, I just don’t want him worrying over something so small. Also, a minor convenience: if the migraine doesn’t hinder me from tending to my tasks, Corpse will. He’ll make sure I’m off the task I’m working and transported into bed in an instant.

That’s why I’m now clenching my jaw, struggling to maintain a poker face as I work on an important project I have to send to my boss by the start of next week. I’ve got plenty of time, but I like to stay on top of my work so it doesn’t pile on top of me, you know what I’m saying. Corpse is sitting on the couch next to me, casually glancing at me every now and then while remaining quiet as to not disturb me. So far so good, he hasn’t noticed anything and, if I didn’t know any better I would sigh in relief. There’s nothing to trigger the pain to arise any further - the lights are dim, I’m staying hydrated, and I downed two painkillers in the bathroom about an hour and a half ago - so I’m sure I’ll be in the clear at least until dinner.

“Wanna watch a movie when you’re done?“ Corpse asks, “Unless you’re tired or anything...“

I flash him a grateful smile, giving his knee a squeeze of reassurance, “I’d love to, babe. But I can’t promise that I won’t fall asleep.”

He chuckles, “Yeah, I know you’ve got a tendency of doing that.” Giving me a side-glance he adds, “It’s cute.”

I roll my eyes, already sensing a blush creeping up on my cheeks and neck which I hide by turning to face my laptop screen. One thing I can’t hide though is the wide grin that’s spread across my face as I mutter: “Shut up.”

Just then, a particularly sharp jolt of pain courses through my head, testing that ability to maintain a resting face. Thankfully, Corpse is turned in the opposite direction, searching for his phone, so I allow myself a brief cringe at the discomfort.

Guess the painkillers are dying down on me, I think to myself, a second away from sighing exasperatedly at the thought that I have to down two more. It was wishful of me to think I could enjoy the luxury of a dull ache until dinner, now the migraine is straight up mocking me.

I quietly stand up from the couch and make my way to the bathroom so I can take another dose of aspirin because I don’t think I’ll be able to focus on my work for very long if it keeps hitting me with this intensity. Opening the door to the small cabinet above the sink, I automatically reach out for the bottle of pills but stop when I see a surprise.

Directly in front of the bottle stands a note written in, you guessed it, Corpse’s handwriting.

‘Already losing effect, huh? When are you thinking of coming clean?‘

Well shoot, am I that transparent?

I sheepishly exit the bathroom, walking back into the living room where Corpse greets me with the same stance as a parent greeting their kid who’s gotten home past curfew: legs crossed, arms folded over his chest, one eyebrow raised, the whole nine yards.

“Yeah, they’re already losing effect.“ I admit, a small apologetic smile tugging at the corners of my mouth, my cheeks burning with an embarrassed blush. “And I wasn’t gonna tell you at all.” I hurry to add: “Please don’t be mad though.“

Corpse shifts slightly, his gaze giving me a onceover as he contemplates how to pursue the case. I’ve already got several arguments/defenses ready - the perks of working for a lawyer - but I know he’ll dismiss all of them no matter how strong they might come off as in court. Bottom line: even statements that would fly in court can’t fly with Corpse sometimes. Especially when my health and well-being are the topic of observation.

“What have we said about lying?“ He finally asks, causing me to cringe and ball my fists in guilt.

However, I still have my arguments ready: “You never asked me so I never technically lied.” One might say I have quite the audacity to plead not guilty right now, even though I’ve been caught red-handed, but what can I say, I’m stubborn in nature. And Corpse knows this, he’s just testing me for his own amusement.

“Poor excuse, Y/N.“ He says with disapproval, shaking his head and fully embracing his disappointed parent persona. “You’re lucky I’m feeling generous today. So, as punishment for hiding the truth from me, you are to ditch that project you’ve been bugging yourself over and come cuddle and watch a movie with me. Bonus points for you if you fall asleep.“

I needn’t be told twice - not only will it wipe that look off his features but it’ll also get earn me a movie night with the additional benefit of cuddling with my boyfriend? - how could I refuse?

I can’t help it, I just gotta push my luck here and poke the bear with a stick, “If the punishments are so sweet I might start being dishonest more often.“

Corpse rolls his eyes, scooting on the couch and tapping the space he’s freed up for me, “I said I was feeling generous, don’t bet on it happening often though.”

Alright, enough luck-pushing, I should be grateful for this generosity instead. I should be using it to the max.

So, what’s stopping you from doing just that?

Good question, brain, good question.

Head still pounding just not as intensely, I slip under the thin soft comforter to find myself not only wrapped in it but also in Corpse’s arm, his warm embrace bringing me instant comfort, walking me on the tight-rope of falling asleep right away.

“Sneaky bastard.“ I attempt to mutter, yawning halfway through.

I feel his lips on the top of my head, placing a quick and gentle kiss in my hair before he says, “You’re welcome, babe.”

Count your lucky stars, Y/N. You’ve got one of the good ones.

@maat-the-prescriptive @simonsbluee @save-the-sky @itsminniekat @hacker-ghost @bi-andready-tocry @imtiredaffff @jazzkaurtheglorious @hereforbeebo @fandomgirl17 @chrysanthykios @maehemscorpyus @loraleiix @letsloveimagines @annshit @i-cant-choose-a-username-help @enigmaticmaze @divine-artemis @waterlilypat @idontknowwhatthisisfam @evi-ka @classyandfabulous00 @redperson58 @lilysdaydreams @solowheein @mythicalamphitrite @axen-gers @luckygirl144 @nj01 @buddyemily @the-albino-lioness @stardream14 @gdhdkfnn @nomadicgypsyy @preciousskye @fluffysuicideunicornsworld @o-kaelin @manacharlotte @awkward-youtube-trash @lolalee24 @bonky-beerns @meme-lord-and-savior-sebastian @strawbrinkofdeath @teenloves @tams0527 @browneyespinkhair @starstruckllamapuppy @daisychains012 @y0ulooked @tinytacosuitcaseflap @supernatural-is-my-only-life @jula-pauline @melodykitty @just-that-bi-girl @crazybutconfidentaf @lowellshade @alphakees @bellero @weallneednamjesus @starryhanji @boiled-onionrings @husherstan @fockingwhore @melaningoddessthings @prettypastelpetals @haleypearce @godwhyamiawkward @y-napotat @daisychainyoonmin @little-miss-rebel3 @free-wheelin-bi-sexual @redmoon261 @darkacademic2 @wiseflamingoqueen @into-the-end @namikhai-i @nastiablr @thelittleplantlover @mirktuan @dont-hyuck @jjk-bunny @vintagegothlover @easygoingtheatre @itsrandombooklover @miiaivi @emmybaybee @befourgolden @jjk-is-my-shit @eternalteaaars @spacebadgerx @princesslunalight @acequinn14 @samm48 @misselsbells06 @simp-lykawa @fo-love @marishimomura-blog @therealglenncoco @cinnamonbun332 @killtherandomness @sanshinexxxsan @fee-btheweeb @press-lay @cathleenpotgieter16 @jazzydoesstuff @moonlxghtbay @forestrain2000 @hyunjinhugs @blood-of-fandoms @lovellylies @ukiyolixx @simpforhpcharacters @chrisdylan17 @parkerjisung @pedernille @theodonyous @wineandionysus @malfoystilinskii05 @morbid-x @coryisagee @jessewa26 @scoobydooluver97 @mindintheskies365 @raeanneinwonderland @indecisive-empanada @gluttonypalace @loriane2503 @btsiguess-kpop @khaoticbunny @lucidlycactus @smiithys @rottenroyalebooks @kpopgirlbtssvt @fangirl-tc27 @fr0z3n-1 @notmesimpingfortechno @shotarosleftpinky @kunoi-chan @idk-whats-wrong-with-me @yikeroonie @goldenstarofthunderclan @poetry-and-tea @ama-do-writing-stuff @wishbonewolf @emeraldxhope @t0xick1tty @kusuinko @speakyourselfloveyourself @sophia902103 @lo-manburg @classsykittykat @dmgama @depressedpuppythatneedscoffee @btsiguess-kpop @akaashi-baby @gun-jong-simp @geschichtenfee @yerapotato-wp @browneyedgirl365 @thysagclub @sparklycloudnight @helloatomicshadow @queentorresstuff @vtte @val-gal @lucy-bunny17 @aaliyahh0 @katluckybear @boyleanti @straybids @franchesca-791 @cosmicstorm19 @averyisbackinthetrashcan @aomi-nabi @xlanawriter @allensimpsforcorpse

326 notes · View notes

gukyi · 4 years

Text

the wedding planners (post-script) | jjk

summary: you and jungkook stopped keeping secrets from each other a long while ago, but when you go out to dinner to celebrate a friend’s third wedding anniversary, they may all start to bubble up.

{married!au, pregnancy!au}

pairing: jeon jungkook x female reader genre: fluff word count: 2k warnings: alcohol mention a/n: a big thank you to @moonb0yy for commissioning this from me and for contributing to the#blacklivesmatter movement!!! i had so much fun revisiting the most iconic couple this blog has ever produced, and this sneak peek into their lives was the cherry on top!!

Yoongi has never been big on fancy celebrations or over-the-top parties, even if his wedding was both of those things combined. Nor is he as hellbent as his husband, Hoseok, on commemorating each and every possible anniversary there is for them to commemorate, from first meetings, to first dates, to first kiss, and everything in between.

Still, wedding anniversaries are special, and, if Yoongi’s being especially honest, he’s never one to turn down a nice dinner at a fancy restaurant, surrounded by his friends and his gorgeous, gorgeous husband.

Which is exactly why you’re sat in a high-end Asian fusion restaurant in the center of the city, an old brick building renovated about a decade ago, a mix between contemporary and antique, celebrating both the success of your exhaustive wedding planning endeavor three years ago and the triumph of, above all, love.

Hoseok and Yoongi like to keep their friend group small and their dinner bill reasonable, though, so you aren’t sitting at this gregariously long table where the people on each end have to scream to talk to each other, instead mingling at a round table with one of those Lazy Susan’s in the middle, everyone sharing dishes and laughing.

“Our one-year is coming up soon,” Jungkook leans over and whispers in your ear, hands interlocked beneath the table. “Wanna do something like this?”

“Mmm,” you muse happily, tickled by the feeling of his breath along your skin, “maybe. Or we could just spend the whole day in.”

“I like the way you think,” Jungkook responds with a grin, giving your hand a squeeze. You don’t care what you do for your first wedding anniversary, whether it be an elaborate party (unlikely) or nothing at all (more likely), so long as it is spent with him. Not a day goes by where you don’t thank every higher power for blessing your life to be forever intertwined with his own.

Hoseok says something outrageous and makes the rest of the table laugh, including the waiter, before ordering a healthy two bottles of rosé for the table with the promise that everybody will have a drink.

But when it arrives, and the waiter comes to your side to reach out for your glass, you say, “Oh, none for me, thanks,” earning yourself plenty of bewildered stares from the table.

“You alright?” Jungkook asks, brows furrowed in concern.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine,” you say, shrugging it off as the waiter moves to serve Suran. You meet Hoseok’s eyes, see his positively skeptical expression, almost as if he isn’t believing what he’s seeing.

“Did I order the wrong thing?” Hoseok asks, an eyebrow raised.

“No, no, I’m just not feeling it tonight,” you say, a pitiful excuse as to why you aren’t helping yourself to a harmless glass of rosé. “You know how I get with alcohol.”

“Okay…” Hoseok says, suspicious, even if the rest of the table has forgotten about your blip. Jungkook’s already gone back to chatting happily with Yoongi as you play footsie under the table, and you suppose that he’s the one you’re most worried about finding out.

In hindsight, perhaps an Asian fusion restaurant wasn’t the best choice of dinner location after all. Hoseok and Yoongi are sushi fiends, frequently ordering takeout from the local Japanese place two blocks from their apartment complex, and while you are normally all for your California and spicy tuna rolls, tonight is most certainly not the night. Here, the dishes are meant to be shared, transported around the table courtesy of the Lazy Susan in the middle, and you find yourself unwilling to eat about half of them.

Not that there’s any shortage of food, because there isn’t. You’re certain that Hoseok and Yoongi will instruct everyone to take home a hearty serving of leftovers—but that won’t do you very much good either.

When Suran offers you a plate of sashimi, everyone passing it around as you help yourselves, you shake your head, immediately handing it off to Jungkook who doesn’t question it whatsoever and placing two on his plate. Out of the corner of your eye, you catch Hoseok staring at you again, eyes narrowed in disbelief. Perhaps it’s just the fact that you’ve known Hoseok longer than you’ve known anybody else at this table, but he always seems to be able to read you like a children’s book.

Eventually, you excuse yourself to the bathroom, having downed two glasses of ice water out of pure nervousness, getting up from your seat and quickly shimmying to the restrooms.

Inside, you dampen a towel with water and press it against your forehead and the nape of your neck, hoping it will somehow cool down the blood that is racing through your veins, burning up your skin. It’s not much, but it’s a little bit of relief.

When you leave, you nearly wet yourself when you see Hoseok standing outside the door, hands on his hips as he glares at you.

“Are you pregnant?” He asks, never one to beat around the bush.

“What the hell, Hoseok?” You say in return, hand on your chest as you try to catch your breath.

“You aren’t drinking any alcohol and you aren’t eating any of the sushi. Are you pregnant?” He repeats.

You wince. Were you that noticeable?

On the bright side, it doesn’t seem like Jungkook’s caught on. Not yet, at least.

“I might be?” You respond awkwardly, not wanting to get neither Hoseok’s nor your hopes up. “I’m not sure, I have a test at home that I haven’t taken yet. But I just wanted to be safe.”

Hoseok’s face lights up, mouth opening into an unrestrained smile. “Oh my God, you totally are!” He cries out, making you lean down to shush him. “Oh my God, will Yoongi and I get to be their godfathers? Have you thought of names? I think Hoseok if it’s a boy and Yoonji if it’s a girl—”

“Hoseok, calm down,” you say, reaching out to grab onto his wrist before he jumps out of his shoes. “I don’t even know for sure yet.”

“You better know by tomorrow,” Hoseok says, and that’s a threat. “I expect results tomorrow morning, no later. You better take that damn test when you get home tonight.”

“I will, I will,” you say, voice trailing off as you feel your nerves come back, sending you into a tizzy.

“Whoa, what’s wrong?” Hoseok asks, voice laced with worry.

“It’s just—” You begin, but you don’t know what words to say. “Are we ready for this?”

Hoseok’s expression softens, lips curving up into a fond little smile. “Are you kidding me?” He asks. “I’ve never met two people more in love than the two of you. As long as you stay by each other’s sides, you’ll be ready for anything.”

Here’s hoping Hoseok’s right.

Later that night when you return home, Jungkook heads straight for your kitchen to put away the plastic containers of leftovers in the fridge as you sneak into the bathroom, grabbing the pregnancy test from the undersink cupboard that Jungkook never checks and nervously opening the box, fingers shaking.

Three minutes later, you have your answer. There’s no room for error, either, because the test you bought will either flat out say pregnant or not, no blurry lines or crosses. You nearly break down completely when you read the word.

You are pregnant.

“Princess?” You hear Jungkook’s voice call from outside, presumably sitting on the couch as he fishes through the late-night television, looking for something to put on in the background as he answers some emails. “You alright in there?”

“Fine!” You shout back, voice wobbly. You are clearly not fine.

“You sure? You been in there a long time!” Jungkook checks again.

“Yeah, coming out soon!” You say. Quickly, you clean off the test and open the door, palms so sweaty it takes you a couple of times to get a grip on the knob.

Jungkook’s sitting on the couch, computer on his lap as he mindlessly scrolls through his email inbox, perhaps a little too hazy on rosé to feel like responding to any work-related requests. He looks golden in the warm yellow light of your apartment, at home. He belongs here, he does. He always has. And he always will.

“Is everything alright, Princess?” He asks, eyes still trained on his laptop screen.

“Yeah,” you say shakily, making him turn to you. Your eyes are already swimming and you haven’t even said anything yet, taking nervous steps towards him as your lip quivers.

“Oh my God, what’s wrong?” He asks, dropping everything and standing up, wrapping his arms around you as he pulls you into a hug, letting you press your nose into his collarbone.

“N-Nothing,” you tell him. “I just have something to,” —hiccup— “to show you.” Wordlessly, you hold out the test, watch as he furrows his brows in confusion before he realizes what exactly it is you’ve got in your hands.

“No,” He says, letting you go so you can turn to face him.

You sniffle, offering nothing but a weak smile.

“Are you serious?” He asks, face lighting up like New Year’s Eve. “Like, really, really serious?”

You nod, tears beginning to stream down your cheeks. At the sight of you, Jungkook also starts to cry, pulling you in and planting a great big kiss on your lips, hands wrapped around your waist before eventually moving to hold your stomach, palms flat against your belly.

“You’re pregnant,” he whispers into your ear, like he can’t even believe it himself, the two of you swaying in the middle of your living room.

“I’m pregnant,” you assure him. He presses another kiss to your cheek, your nose, and then your lips.

“Do you know how much I love you?” He asks, filled with joy and fondness and love. It’s hard to believe that he’s yours. It’s even harder to believe that you get to spend the rest of your life with him. “I love you so, so much. You and our child. I love you both.”

Our child. You like the sound of that. You grin, smiling against his lips. “I love you, too.”

↳ links are broken, but don’t forget to message me with any thoughts or feedback!

#jungkook fluff #jungkook angst #bts fluff #bts angst #bts scenario #jungkook scenario #bts imagine #jungkook imagine #bts au #jungkook au #w: the wedding planners

790 notes · View notes

jtrbluv · 4 years

Text

shutterbug | jjk

pairing: jungkook x reader

genre: fluff, angst

word count: 4.1k

warnings: swearing, unbearable but relatable tiger parents

request: Jungkook,, one shot,, 38 + 40 please 😊😊 @asiivnc

“you leave whenever you feel like it.” & “don’t apologize if you don’t mean it.”

A/N: sheesh, i have not posted in a hot minute! i’ve been trying to work on this single request throughout quarantine and it really only came down to these last few days where i literally had a spike of inspo and drive and well,, ideas LOL. i considered an alternate angstier ending but i am a self-indulgent mofo who doesn’t like to make myself cry even though i’m sure i cried while writing this at least once (maybe twice). there is so much jk content on my blog i wanna set aside more time to write for other members from now on until i’m satisfied! regardless, thank you @asiivnc for requesting this and sorry for the wait luv, hopefully this can make up for it !!

Jungkook was known to be heavily passionate and fully invested in whatever his life had revolved around at that moment. As a film/photography major, as well as a man that just had a strange knack for being naturally adept at whatever was thrown at him, he incessantly poured his utmost efforts into his works. You weren’t any different, as you held just as much significance in his life as the way his serotonin levels would skyrocket as soon as his fingertips touched his precious camera.

Not to be self-absorbed, but you always thought of yourself as his muse. Or befittingly for his sake, the subject of the photo that you would give the title ‘his lover’.

You were so indisputably sure that you loved the boy and even moreso that he felt the same. While being so accustomed to his own nurturing ways and devotion to you and the reciprocated energy on your part, the bone-crushing weight of college hindered all and didn’t give a single fuck about anyone or anything.

Carrying the begrudging burden of having to succeed because he didn’t take the traditional lawyer/doctor career route, was always at the forefront of his mind. Likewise, for fuck’s sake, he nearly got disowned by his own parents and it took him what seemed to be a lifetime’s worth of energy to convince him to just give him a chance. Jungkook was not planning on taking that chance for granted.

Jungkook, being the person he is, was excelling, and his name was beginning to become known in the community of photographers and videographers, and he was finally starting to feel at ease. His parents were even acknowledging his successes to the extent that they were helping him financially with school, which was a huge burden off of his shoulders. And then you suddenly crash-landed into his life and just made his life even more fulfilling and by all means, worth living in.

He knew it was a bad idea. Distancing himself from you was the last thing he wanted to do. All his parents were concerned about was the fact that you were the only thing hindering him from making it “big”, when turns out, you became the sole inspiration and muse for most of his recent works. So they gave him an ultimatum to either be cut off financially or break up with you. He didn’t understand, because his parents liked you so much and they loved the influence you had on his work. He didn’t understand. He hated it—the fact that he was basically hanging by puppet strings and didn’t have a say in what he did considering the age he was in now.

He also hated the fact that he knew they had good intentions, and were only doing this because they wanted him to be successful. Their idea of true success for his career could only be seen as the financial benefits of being a director or producer rather than being able to just pursue and learn more about the art form that he loves. There was no use of trying to persuade them, so likewise, he did not. But why get her involved into this mess too?

Jungkook tended to stray away from confrontation and hated immediate and unexpected change as much as he acted like it didn’t phase him. He figured the sooner he can gain benefit from his passion, the less dreadful this dilemma would be. Less mess. Less stress. More time to be with you. That was the intended plan.

His next course of action was to score a film internship and potential job at the rather famous, Fox Studios. By doing so, would have to win the statewide film contest— a much larger scale than he had ever involved himself in. The mere thought of him having to showcase his own self-produced work to critically acclaimed film critics made the bile in his system threaten to upchuck onto the lemon-pledge scented floors of his dorm room. Then he remembered and was reminded— by the help of you of course, that he was Jeon Jungkook, and everyone knows that Jeon Jungkook does not like to lose.

He presumed that keeping up his grades would give him more credibility to getting the internship as well, so he put more focus onto his schoolwork. The remainder of his time was dedicated to exploring his potential ideas and storyboarding out his options and what would be most effective and most consequently— worthy of winning first place.

During this very strenuous time for the poor man, you would most likely see him trudging down the halls, hair in a complete disarray or simply hidden by the fabric of his hood, his eyelids threatening to close shut almost as if it’s taking all his willpower to keep them open, chugging down another red bull with one hand while he grips the strap of his backpack with practically no energy.

I mean you thought it was kinda cute at first, but his apparent deteriorating state mostly caused you to be more concerned than anything else.

In hopes to not hinder his creative flow but still keep his health at par, you would stop by every so often to give him food and give him reassurance—he never needed it so much until now.

Jungkook never told you about the irrational ultimatum his parents had given him. He came to the conclusion that it’d be unnecessary as long as he was able to carry out his plans. Nonetheless, the pressure of the whole situation was getting to him. The love of his life, passion for working with a camera, his parents’ disapproval, and just the own personal dream to be able to tell everyone that “Fuck you, I told you I could do it, and I did,” enveloped his whole mind these days.

Time had proved to not work in Jungkook’s favor. Two weeks passed in a mere blink of an eye leaving him with only two more weeks to finish his film in time for the film contest. This time around, he decided to choose a topic that resonated more with his own personal life. The film revolves around the struggle to be able to conform to the standards and expectations that society implements onto young people, whether it’d be from mainstream media or direct connections, like family. Typically, he stuck a title onto his projects after fully completing it, but for some reason, this time, it had worked in reverse. The title itself suddenly popped into his mind one day and from there he was able to garner ideas from it. And so the title was ‘Moulded’.

A very risky step on Jungkook’s part was what you initially thought when he first told you the idea. He knew that too, which is why he did it. You knew him long enough to be aware of the influence his parents had on his life and their outdated beliefs. You also knew the potential the boy’s zeal could take him, and because of that, all traces of worry left you shortly afterward.

Two days. The film contest was in two days. Jungkook was just about finished at this point, constantly playing back frames and adding final touches, rewatching the same parts over and over again until he became satisfied. He leaned back in his chair and let out a heavy sigh, eyes finally averting from the screen of his desktop to the clock on his bedside table.

“Only 9:15?” he muses, realizing these past four weeks had completely fucked over his sense of time, “At least I’m down, color correcting can be such a bit—”

A small jolt reverberates through his desk, interrupting his verbally spoken train of thought. His eyes beeline back to his phone, the contact picture of his mom flashing on his screen. Why would she be calling me at this time?

His brows knit together as he picks up his phone and swipes his thumb across the screen in uncertainty.

“Um, hi mom?” he greets, with the obvious tone of confusion in his voice.

He can practically hear her scoff over the line, “Jungkook-ah, how’s the film coming along?”

“It’s almost done-”

“Are you still with that girl?” she forcibly asks out of nowhere, leaving him dumbfounded to the point his mouth was hanging open in return.

A few seconds pass by as he processes what’s going on. He tightens his grip on the phone at the mention of you as he confesses through gritted teeth, “Yes mom.”

“We had a deal didn’t we?”

He retorted without waver in his voice, “Mom, I’m not a kid anymore.”

“Then give it back. The tuition money,” she affirms without hesitation, “Jungkook, me and your father have done our part. It’s about time you do yours.”

“I’ve done practically everything you’ve asked. I’m doing just fine,” he monotonously states, trying so hard not to implode on his own mother at this point, “Y/N has nothing to do with this.”

There was a short pause, leaving Jungkook in the same state of dejection per usual when he had to talk to his parents, “We just want you to be successful,” her voice softens, using the same line that somehow magically guilt-trips Jungkook every time the words travel to his ears.

He shakes his head in disbelief over hearing the stupid line that seemed to control every aspect of his life, “You say that every time.”

“And we mean it every time,” she interjects, a sigh audibly present over the line, “this discussion is over.”

She ends the call as Jungkook lets out a raspy and guttural groan, slamming his phone onto his desk in frustration with such strength it’d be surprising if the cheap glass screen protector he’s had on it didn’t suffer any damage.

“Kook,” a voice utters softly from the other side of his door, “is everything okay?”

He flinches at the sound of your voice, considering you were just the subject of the conversation he just had with his mom that left him fuming with rage more than anything.

“Can you please leave Y/N, this isn’t a good time,” he objected, adjusting himself in his seat so he’d face away from the door. Even though you couldn’t see him you could still hear the small indication of irritation in his response.

It was more than apparent something was wrong with him, with only two days left until the film contest, you knew he couldn’t manage to keep his guard down, regardless of the stress and turmoil he’d been putting himself through for the past 4 weeks, “Just because you leave whenever you feel like it…” you enunciate, raising your voice loud enough for him to hear your intentions, “doesn’t mean I will.” Both of you knew the last 4 weeks had taken a toll on the relationship, it was only then that he realized how much he’d been putting it off.

The door began to emit tiny clicking noises as he slowly turned the doorknob. He slowly widens the area as he meekly steps to the side, letting you come in as you make your way toward his bed and plop down onto his sheets.

The tension had never been this thick between the two of you, to the extent where it felt absolutely suffocating and unbearable. You had never seen him in such a state of dejection as he simply sat there, hands fiddling with the hem of his shirt as he nibbled on his lower lip, eyes diverting away from yours at all costs. The knit between his brows that would usually derive from confusion or frustration, seemed entirely different this time around. It was as if his mind was full of nothing but everything all at the same time.

You heave out a deep sigh as you finally break the ice, “Jungkook,” you begin, looking up to see him looking back at you to your surprise, “you know I didn’t mean it like that. I’m sorry for making it seem that way.”

“Don’t apologize if you don’t mean it,” he mutters only to see the flash of hurt in your eyes that makes him divert his gaze back to the floor, “I know I’ve been acting so selfish lately. I’d understand if you felt that way.”

“I hate seeing you like this you know,” you confess quietly, “I know there’s something up.”

His eyes meet yours once again, mouth slightly parted as if he was about to say something, but the silences ensues and he closes the gap once again, resorting back to nibbling the skin off of his bottom lip until it starts to bleed. Your eyes soften as you observe the boy once more. The span of your relationship had naturally led to the two of you being able to open up to one another so easily. You were both able to tell when the other was feeling a certain way and why. It just came with time and getting to know the other person more throughout the relationship. And alongside that was the ability to know when the other was purposely keeping something under wraps—this was one of those times.

“Jungkook”, you whisper just loud enough to catch his attention, which works as he gazes back up at you with all doe-eyed glory, the knit between his brows gone surprisingly out of sight for the first time since you came over. You glance at his bed—emphasizing the void of space next to you on his bed by patting the fabric and peering at the cryptic man, hoping he would get the sign to sit next to you.

Fortunately, he does. He places his hands on the armrests as he timidly pushes himself up from his chair. The chair produces an obnoxiously loud squeaking noise almost emulating the sound of your dog’s dog shaped squeaky toy (counterintuitive I know, but it was a gift from Jungkook himself, the prick). The sound causes you to involuntarily snort as you look away in hopes to hide the smile creeping onto your lips. Too bad you missed the smug grin on his face at your lackluster attempt.

He carefully approaches you as he warily lowers himself onto his bed, making sure he doesn’t make the same mistake twice. He shifts his body to turn towards you, propping his hands at his side. His eyes avoid yours once more, sparing glances at every inch of his own room as if he wasn’t already familiar with the enclosed space.

You pause and calculate your next move, eyes studying the boy’s body language. You outstretch your arm, gently grasping his wrist as you slide your fingers through his calloused palms and twine your fingers with his own, allowing your hands to rest on your knee. His eyes glaze over your connected hands, trailing back to finally meeting your own once again—they had this all too unfamiliar gloss to them, not the usual star-like specks you had been accustomed to looking at. As a few seconds had passed, you spotted the pool of tears starting to brim in the corner of his eyes. Taken aback, you retract your focus to his whole face and how his bottom lip started to tremble, hopeless. Hopelessness was what he was denoting, an emotion you had rarely if never seen coming from the man sitting in front of you.

Before you could formulate any words of comfort, he speaks up, voice brittle and wobbly, “Am I just a failure Y/N?”

“Wha— what? No, how could you ask that? Of course I don’t think you are,” you assert, unknowingly tightening the grip on his hand.

“It’s just,” he drawls out, pausing to think of a coherent way to voice his concerns, “maybe it just would’ve been easier if I complied with my parents in the first place y’know. I’ve been spending all my time and energy fighting it, maybe I’ve just been putting my energy into the wrong-”

“I don’t believe that,” you calmly interject, “I believe that whenever you put your energy into something, you have a reason behind it. You thought about it for a while, it obviously wasn’t something that just sprouted overnight,” you countered, staring off as your eyes land on his workspace, the flashing screen of his computer that reveal his last minute editing as well as the camera you seldom see the man without, “Working with a camera, creating art,” you say while clasping your free hand over the one that you were already holding, rubbing miscellaneous shapes into the back of his hand, “that is what you love to do.”

“I love a lot of things Y/N,” he simply states.

“Hm?” you let out under your breath as you notice the single tear that falls onto his cheek, contradictory to the straightforward tone of his voice you had just heard seconds before. Your body stiffened at the sight of the fallen drop.

“Did you hear me on the phone before you came?” he questions, swiping away the tears that threatened to fall with his free hand.

You take a moment to recollect the moments that preceded until knocking on his door, “No, I just heard a loud bang. It sounded like you broke something.”

“Oh, that was my phone,” he shyly admits while scratching the back of his ear, “there is something I need to tell you.”

You perk up at his sudden willingness to tell you what was wrong. Your body language conveys the signal for him to continue, and he does.

“I got a call from my mom before you came,” he starts, “she was checking up on me, knowing the deadline is coming soon and what not.”

You nod slowly in understanding, “I see, what did she say?”

“You have the right to know,” he mutters under his breath while diverting his gaze back to your interlocked hands. He intentionally grazes your other hand before taking it into his own before flashing you a small grin of reassurance, “The farther I’m advancing, my parents just constantly feel the need to strip me of everything else. You probably knew that already. You also know that I tend to just rebel and find a loophole out of things most of the time. I don’t know, lately, it just seems like they solely care about success and money these days more than my own happiness and wellbeing, and it’s been like that for so long. Anyways, I’ve been prolonging and putting it aside for awhile now, but they threatened to cut me off financially if I didn’t break up with you Y/N.”

A single tear slides down your cheek. You’re at a loss for words and coherent thought. The only thing you muster to say is whatever decidedly popped up into your head first, “W-why haven’t you then?”

The brimming tears began to fall more frequently for you as well as from the eyes of the man in front of you. He releases both of his hands and slides his calloused palms up to your forearms pulling you closer in proximity, “I said it before, I love a lot of things Y/N,” he gingerly reiterates as he swipes away the tears from your eyes with the pad of his thumb before trailing his fingers to your fallen strands of hair, tucking them behind your ear.

“I love my parents, I love working with a camera, but I undoubtedly also am in love with you,” he tenderly professes while sliding down his hand to the crook of your neck, “I know my parents never meant harm, but they have to realize I don’t either. I owe it to myself and I realize that I am capable of obtaining and having everything I want in life,” he wholeheartedly declares despite the tears that continue to run down his face, “ And it wouldn’t be everything I want if you weren’t here with me.”

He renders you speechless, tears streaming freely as he continues to wipe them away. He was much more composed now, wiping away his own remaining tears with the back of his wrist. You, on the other hand, were practically sobbing into his palm, tears spilling all over his forearm.

“There’s a reason why I chose that particular subject for the film, “ he describes, hands sliding down to intertwine with yours once again, “It serves as a testament to my parents, to my peers, to you, but also to myself,” he beams, releasing the hold on your hands as he stands up from his bed, extending a hand out to you.

You unhurriedly grab his hand, as he tugs you to stand up from his bed, leading you to sit in his own seat. He swivels the chair for it to face his computer, stepping aside so you could sit down.

“I wasn’t planning on giving any sneak peeks, but it just seems right to show you this now,” he explains, clicking through the frames until he arrives at his destination and clicks play.

It starts off with the emulation of a glitching tv screen, the audio sounds as if someone was inserting a tape into a DVR. The ‘no signal’ screen fades into the familiar setting of the beach in his hometown. Hues of blue fading into muted shades of oranges and yellows flash across the screen, accompanied by the soft crashing of the waves washing ashore on the fine sand. The camera quickly shifts his focus to what seems to appear as Jungkook being fully enveloped and underneath the sand, his head being the only thing that isn’t submerged. Flashing his signature grin, his arm emerges from the sand as he gives a thumbs-up to the camera, making the person behind it erupt into a fit of giggles. That person was you.

The scene transitions into the city streets of the suburb that was close to the college. You were walking down the sidewalk, enamored by the bustle of the people who lived there as well as the twinkling lights that were draped from building to building. Clips ranging from his family, his friends, him working, and more are compiled and presented as he talks over it. His voice begins to say, “As individuals living in a society where opportunities seem to just be knocking left and right, we all have dreams and desires. Whether they are attainable or not, that’s what makes them all the more worthwhile and exhilarating to find out for ourselves. Society, whether we like it or not, is filled with certain conjectures that they believe can assure us of these dreams and desires, what they’ve made us believe as the path to success. They mould us from the beginning. As kids, we are told to behave well, listen to our elders, go to school, get good grades, and get into a good college. As adults, we deem success as having a stable job that pays the bills, buying a house and settling down, finding the love of your life, having kids, and working tirelessly until we become worn out and old. We have these presumptions about what’s better and what’s not, what is easier and what isn’t. Regardless of how much we get told that we can achieve anything we want to in life, we grow older and life unexpectedly throws more curveballs at you to make you think that it’s not actually the case. Well, as cliche as it may sound, I’m here to tell you that it’s just not true. Do what you want. Do what you love. Be with the ones you love. Cherish these moments. Film them as keepsakes to look back on. So… what’s your story? What are your dreams and desires? What sparks pure joy within you and keeps you on your feet? Break those moulds that have been holding you down. Reach for the moon and the stars. And maybe someday with the right amount of determination, and a little bit of luck, you can get there.”

The video ends right then and there, and you had no doubt in your mind that this was his best work to date albeit only seeing a snippet of it. A smile graces your lips as you turn your head to look at the creator of it all. He looks back at you with the familiar star-like specks in his eyes, making you feel rest assured that within all the chaos, you would both get through it all.

MASTERLIST

222 notes · View notes

bokuroskitten · 3 years

Text

᯽⸱៰ ͘ ࣭⸰ 𖥔 ͙ࣳ Request and Ask Rules

Requests are currently closed. Feel free to leave thots and I’ll get to them when I can

Here's what I WILL write.

I mostly write smut, so this blog will be 18+ (Minors DNI)

I will write some pretty dark themes/kinks {which will include but not limited to Incest, Dubcon, cnc, Kidnapping/Yandere}

I do however write fluff, SFW and angst content, but all posts will only have Aged Up Characters, hence making it 18+

I DO NOT WRITE ABOUT MINORS.

Headcanons and Drabbles (Headcanons vary in length, drabbles are less than 1k, otherwise known as horny thoughts)

Fanfictions (Anything 1k and over)

I take Fic Requests typically between male char x reader or 2 male char x reader

I typically write for fem! reader but will consider doing nonbinary

I also will consider writing fem char x reader

Very specific requests are practically commissions and I have the right to decline

but here is a list of what I WILL NOT write.

Gore

Male reader

Scat

Cheating (maybe implied cheating but it’s iffy)

An adult x a minor

Major character death (maybe with a proper premise)

Abuse

Fear play

Anything with feet

Food play

Anything with self-harm

Character x Character without a Y/N

Currently, I am write about characters from Haikyuu, and Tokyo Revengers. I also dabble in JJK and Demon Slayer but only specific characters.

This list may change as I continue to write, but for now, these are hard limits of mine. As mentioned previously, I’m pretty open and willing to discuss ideas. But please note I reserve the right to refuse any request that makes me uncomfortable. Thanks for understanding.

Ask rules

Tell me about your day, I’d love to know

Horny thoughts— I love getting those. And I’ll put them in Drabbles.

Request ideas (sometimes I’ll actually make them into full posts)

Headcanons. I love sharing them.

Creative and/or Constructive Criticism. (This does NOT mean hate.)

Please try to keep personal issues out of my ask box. I always want to help where I can but I’m not a therapist. Also if you don’t like my writing, keep it to yourself. I’ve already had people send me anonymous hate on my writing and if it’s not constructive or creative I will just delete the ask.

Much love, L. ❦

#requests #request rules #asks #ask rules

3 notes · View notes

bts-reveries · 5 years

Text

daddy diaries

“Areyousu re yu arnt drking yn?” Jungkook slurs, you squint at him in an attempt to understand what he just said.

“What?”

“Ar-areyu shu r ur drking?” He said once more, shaking his head no.

“W-what?”

“N-no, no drink, you?” You furrow your eyebrows and just shake your head no. The boys have gone wild with their drinks while the two girls only had a few sips, you and Mae having none. You were too scared for them to see you drunk and crazy when you’ve only known each other for a few hours.

“Are you having fun love?” Yuna asks, sitting by you and resting her head on you. She wraps her arms around you and snuggles her head on your shoulder. She may have had a few sips to many.

“It’s nice… I seem to have learned a lot more about the boys than I anticipated,” you laugh. When you were younger back in your hometown, parties were much different than this. There was drinking too, but there was also blasting music, dancing, and a whoooolleee bunch of drama. Here it was more tame and ‘family friendly’, kind of. The boys were playing a game of uno, while drunk, and Taehyung is borderline crying because Namjoon won’t stop giving him a plus four card.

“STOP,” Taehyung screams. He makes an overly exaggerated sad face. His eyebrows were furrowed, and he had a huge frown. You laugh, thinking he was just messing around. Until his face began to turn a shade of read.

“AISH, hOW ARE WE GOING TO PLAY IF YOU’RE GOING TO KEEP CRYING,” Namjoon yells.

“aY, Taehyung-ah, stop being a lOseR,” Jimin says, slapping Taehyung with his cards.

“HOW CAN I NOT BE A LOSER WHEN HYUNG WONT STOP GIVING ME HIS DAMN CARDS,” he cries. You can’t help but laugh at the situation, Jin was already rubbing his temples. Mae slumps down on the other side of you.

“Get ready to plug your ears, when Jin does that, he’s about to talk really fast, really loudly, all in one breath.” You watch as her husband inhales, and the three of you quickly slap your hands over your ears before the siren goes off.

“yAHJUSTF*CK*INGPUTDOWNAREVERSECARDANDSTOPYELLINGAISH!”

“I CAN’T I DON’T HAVE A REVERSE CARD HYUNG, ALL I HAVE IS F*CK*NG BLUE, ALL THE PLUS FOURS JUST GAVE ME BLUE AND YOU GUYS KEEP STICKING TO THE COLOR RED AND I CAN’T PUT A DAMN CARD DOWN,” Taehyung complains. He lets out a yell before slapping his cards down and walking out of the room. Wow, he wasn’t kidding. It’s all just blue.

The maknae just groans, falling backwards and rubbing his hand over his face.

“i wS ABUTtO HAVAnUNOOOOOOOO,” he yells, but it sounded muffled.

“I-is it always this violent during uno with them?” You ask the girls. The two of them nod.

“Hey, where’s Rina anyways?” You ask. Turning to look around. The two frown and looked around as well.

“Yah, Jungkookah, where’s your girl?” Mae asks, getting up. Jungkook furrows his brows and turned his head towards the kitchen.

“She ually getshung ry when e drinks,” he says. The three of you rush towards the kitchen to see what your new friend was up to.

❀ ❀ ❀

“Aish, look at this chick,” Mae says, other than you, she was the only one that was fully sober. The three of you stand over Rina’s unconscious body. Which, not to mention, is laid next to a bunch of open bags of chips.

“AH! NO! SHE ATE MY DORITOS,” Yuna cries, dropping down to her knees. Quite dramatic if you ask me.

She picks up a bag, turning it upside down and it was empty. She whines, throwing the empty bag at Rina’s unconscious body.

“She’s going to pay for this,” Yuna mumbles before storming off.

You look at her walk away and turn towards Mae worriedly.

“What does she mean by that?” Mae shook her head, waving a hand saying not to worry.

“She just means she’s really going to pay for her doritos. The last time this happened, Rina just bought her a family sized bag and they were friends again.”

“Oh.. okay.” Mae laughs, wrapping an arm around you and walking you out of the kitchen.

“Don’t be so shy anymore Yn. You really just saw our wild side, we’re like best friends now, come on.” She then grabs your hand, pulling you back to the living room. With her words, you began to loosen up, feeling a lot more comfortable.

“Wait, unnie, what do we do with Rina?” You say, turning towards her on the floor.

“Don’t worry about her, she’ll wake up soon,” Mae said, “come on.”

❀ ❀ ❀

“Is Taehyung okay? I haven’t seen him in a while.” You yawn, Namjoon shakes his head.

“Ion wanna talk to him.” Your eyebrows raise. This is the first time I’ve heard him talk improperly.

“He’s in one of the guest rooms, Hoseok is comforting him,” Yoongi says, slouching down on the couch next to you. He lays his head back on the couch, closing his eyes.

You nod, letting out another yawn, “that’s good, I hope he’s okay.” Yoongi’s head falls to the side and he opens his eyes, looking at you.

“Are you always this nice?” He asks. You let your head fall to the side to face him too.

You shrug, “I don’t know, I hope so.” You were beginning to feel sleepy. It’s been a pretty long night. Watching the boys get drunk, fight during every board game they played, cry because they ran out of alcohol to drink, it was endless. Jimin also mentioned that Hoseok was comforting Taehyung by looking at cute pictures of dogs, but Taehyung began to miss his dog Yeontan and started crying.

“I really appreciate you being so nice to Hana. She adores seeing you and told me before she slept that she wanted to visit your bakery again tomorrow morning.” You gave him a sleepy smile. You may not be drunk, but with the lack of sleep you had you felt like it. Running the store alone wasn’t easy and you usually went there early in the morning to set up and make a few things. You also were a late sleeper because you had trouble sleeping at night. But now that it’s past twelve in the morning, your eyelids were getting heavier.

“She’s really sweet, I love having her around,” you said with your eyes closed.

“You should come over sometime then, Hana will like that,” Yoongi mumbles. You open your eyes and see him looking at you with heavy eyelids.

“You would like that too, wouldn’t you hyung,” Namjoon says, staring at the two of you from the couch across from the one you two were sitting on. Yoongi lifts up his head and stares Namjoon down.

“This is all solely for Hana. She enjoys spending time with Yn.”

“I’d love that,” you say, your eyes beginning to close.

“Yah! Yn, don’t you have to open the shop tomorrow morning?” Jimin yells from the kitchen. Your eyes shoot open, “Aw, shi--”

❀ ❀ ❀

daddy diaries

❀part seven: reverse card❀

→ singledad!yoongi x baker!reader

a/n: this part is so loud, it hurts my head reading the caps lol//tae is all of us when we play uno😔🥺 also, drinking is bad for your liver, don’t do it and stick to water and milk. thank you and good night

taglist: @dammit-jjk @io-is-lame @yoongistruth @passionate-hedgehog @rjsmochii @live-2-fangirl @mizz-kraziii @sugarrimajins @yoongismainhoe @toobroken4u @ddaengtwice @chims-dimple @moon6rop @baojinnie @dearbangtan07 @snowythellama @oneweirdbean @abrupt-aesthetic @aejae-ssi @joanc24 @mayumioutloud @beanstalkyoongi @maaayleee @sparky-isnt-a-vampire @ultimitae @raconteurgirl @thebleuprince @joyhope88 @lylanie12 @triviayoongles @oh-worm-yee-haw @adriennemichelle98 @weasleys-wizard-weasleys @minhyunie-lovely @ajhdr @parkjiminstan16 @cherryicy123 @take-u-2-an0ther-w0r1d @chilloutlatin @lyndseygoregasmxo @moonynessx @yoongiismytruelove @hellboundblogger @yoongims @velvetaroma @chims-kookies @taetaetata1230 @knjhype @kisskissshutmydoor @sayanne

taglist is closed! sorry everyone :(( if you want to be notified when i post, you can turn on my post notifs by going to my blog, clicking the person icon and clicking ‘get notifications’ [at least on mobile]

934 notes · View notes

cmtrydrve · 4 years

Text

hey ! my name’s link , i go by he/they pronouns , am 21+ & live in the cst timezone ! my only personality trait is being a bts , sment & girl groups enthusiast . i’m an aries sun with a pisces moon , which means i can be aggro , am always loud & obnoxious , but am a secretly sensitive softy , so plz be nice to me !!! this is my child , mikey , who’s stuck in 2006 & never grew out of his emo phase ( take that , mom ! ) . he’s also an aries , because my jjks always end up like that . hopefully , you’ll love him as much as i already do ! under the cut , you’ll find some misc . info & wanted connections . here are links to his dossier page & his pinterest board , which will hopefully give you some deeper insight . i’m excited to be here & write with you all ! like this if you’d like to plot & i’ll fly to your ims , but also feel free to add me on d*scord ( it’s easier for me as well ) : no brain only loving bts#6669 !

— jeon jungkook. he/they. demiboy. | was that michael “mikey” kwon i just saw in the hideaway lobby ? i hear the twenty-two year old spends most of their time working as a record store clerk / studying communications , but i’ve always just seen them dyeing their hair different colors with kool-aid . they live in 3c and i often see them in the halls. they always give me a vibe of getting into arguments online , an entirely black wardrobe and drinking six cups of coffee to make it through the day .

misc . info :

his parents are both very hip artists who met & fell in love while attending art school. they’re both very modern kind of parents, which meant that mikey grew up around a lot of self-expression (& being told to try it for himself), paint everywhere & pot.

growing up, he was allowed to paint his walls & even ceiling however he pleased & it instilled a love of creativity in him. his parents still have paintings he did as a child hanging up on their walls & fridge. even now, he still draws casually, though it was always a hobby for him & not his actual passion.

his parents are extremely caring & understanding. as a teenager, they allowed him to go out & party & always made sure to get him home safely. mikey genuinely can not remember a single time they ever yelled at him even when he fucked up massively. so he tries his best to make sure they’re happy & taken care of. but they’re adamant in supporting whatever mikey wants to do.

they were both the alternative types, which meant that rock music filled their home. mikey was familiar with classic rock from a young age & the sounds of fleetwood mac & other similar bands fills him with a warmth that can only be attained from childhood nostalgia.

his first taste of love came at the age of seven. his parents always brought home new albums to listen to & his dad purchased three cheers for sweet revenge by my chemical romance. while the screaming & raging instruments could have been too much for anyone else his age, mikey embraced it fully.

it ignited an adoration for the genre as a whole & soon enough, his parents were bringing home various emo music albums to sate the always dramatic & over-reacting mikey. for christmas, he received mcr’s discography (at the time, just two albums) on vinyl, which he still has hanged proudly on his wall as an adult.

he owns every variation of every mcr album now. vinyl, cd, cassettes. he even collects the japanese versions because he likes the way they’re designed.

he dropped the name mike / michael because of mikey way & he refuses to answer to anything else.

even though it’s largely part of “cringe culture” now (which mikey refuses to participate in), he loves hot topic & goes there whenever he can. his closet is full of band tees & he has a drawer filled with those spiky belts, bracelets & pants with the suspenders from his teenage years.

he’s been dyeing his hair regularly since he was twelve. he’s had every color under the sun. this is what his hair currently looks like but he dyes the highlights with kool-aid, so the color is always changing.

he has a nostril piercing & would probably get more done if someone so much as implied that he should.

he has a mcr stan twitter account & he gets into fights with everyone he decides has a wrong opinion. he’s been suspended multiple times for being too aggressive online, but he always comes back. he also has a tumblr account but he just uses it to reblog pictures of gerard way (his bias KJHFDKJ).

he works at a record store & goes to school for communications. he hopes to either be a radio dj or podcast host. he wants to get paid to talk about how much he loves music either way. but he loves his current job because he gets to talk about music all day and recommend albums to people. also it’s helpful in perfecting his own vinyl collection.

yes, he cried the day mcr broke up & yes he bought tickets to all their reunion shows. he took the day off when the tickets went on sale & his boss was understanding, knowing how much he loves the band.

he’s extremely impulsive. if you tell him to do anything, he more than likely will. he has a lot of stupid scribbled tattoos on him for this reason, especially on his hands.

while he doesn’t mind appearing masculine & even embraces it, he doesn’t fully align with being a man. he started identifying as nonbinary in his teens, but has never felt 100% a man his whole life. he’s fine with both he or they pronouns for the most part, though he does have his preferences day to day. he introduces himself as nonbinary so it’s not a secret & everyone who interacts with him is aware.

he’s kind of a party animal. he’s that loud person who drinks too much & ends up blacked out on the floor.

he gets in trouble a lot, because he plays music very loudly at both his workplace & his apartment. but he’s of the opinion that if music is too loud for you then you’re just too old.

he’s aggressive & very arrogant. he will fight you about anything & everything. he just likes to argue & he thinks he’s right about everything.

in typical aries fashion, he loves to flirt & be flirted with. he just adores attention & seeks out affection where he can find it. he gets crushes really easily & pursues aggressively (he’s extremely charming & good at making people feel good about themselves), but he gets bored when he actually obtains the person he desires. he’s never really seriously dated, but has had over a billion crushes in his lifetime.

thought dramatic & annoying most of the time, he’s also very loyal & has a good heart. if you’re in his circle of people he likes, then he’ll do anything for you point blank. he always tells his friends that he’d die for him & he means it.

while he tries to appear confident, he has secret insecurities stemming from being the middle child. he has issues with feeling like he’s not good enough or thinks he’s unnoticed by everyone, so he acts up by being dramatic.

he drinks A LOT of coffee, so he’s pretty much always bouncing off the walls.

he’s extremely pansexual & loud about it. if you’ve known him for longer than five minutes then you’ll find out how he wishes he could smash gerard way specifically in the helena mv to smithereens.

he very casually knows how to play guitar. he’s that person who plays wonderwall at every party.

while he’s not a fan of pop music, he knows most girl group dances & can do them well.

wanted connections :

exes (any gender. it will more than likely be something casual, like a few months or less, but we can discuss the timeline! also it can be messy or friendly. extra points if there’s lingering feelings!)

hookups / fwbs (any gender. singular experiences or regular type things)

childhood plots for those who’ve lived in seattle (childhood friends, first kisses / crushes, all that good stuff)

flirtationships that don’t go anywhere

one-sided crushes (don’t mind who has the feelings!)

mutual pining but they’re both idiots & have no idea

party buddies (can be drinking &/or smoking). emo music buddies. netflix buddies. any of these can be combined.

enemies???? (if we can decide on a suitable plot. or enemies with benefits :smirk:)

someone who knows of mikey from his stan twitter but doesn’t realize it’s him & talks shit openly about the asshole who runs the account in front of him.

on the opposite side of the spectrum, someone who he flirts with in the dms & they plan to meet up after realizing they live in the same apartment building.

tinder date (it can go well or not)

frequent customers (customers he flirts with or can’t stand because they just loiter or gets into fights with because they have bad taste in music

someone who takes advantage of mikey being willing to do anything he’s dared to do. make him do all the stupid shit he shouldn’t be doing, whether it’s getting tattoos / piercings or anything dangerous or just idiotic.

you’re sick of this asshole blasting music late at night & go to yell at him for it but oops he’s actually attractive (or you actually can’t stand him, whichever GKDHFGJFKD).

i have a huge tag full of plots i’d love to do on my rp spam blog. not all of them will be fitting for mikey but just ask me & we can try to change some elements or something!

literally anything you can think of i’m probably down for it!

#hide:intro #◟ * 𝟎𝟏𝟑. 𝑔𝑜 ℎ𝑜𝑠𝑝𝑖𝑡𝑎𝑙 𝑝𝑙𝑧 › OUT OF CHARACTER #not me being ready on time for once wow

7 notes · View notes

letholojimin · 7 years

Text

HOUR 3 (JJK)

STUCK SERIES - HOUR 3

Pairing: Jeon Jungkook x Reader Themes: high school au, badboy & fuckboy jungkook Genre: Fluff Word Count: 1,153 Summary: After being labelled the school’s biggest bad boy, Jeon Jungkook chooses to live up to the title. What he doesn’t know is that his arrogance will lead him to you.

HOUR 2 | HOUR 4 | MASTERLIST

“Wow, this place is amazing at night.” You breathe out, garnering the boy’s attention.

“Yeah,” he agrees. “It is.”

After walking around with only the faint light of the moon to guide your way within the familiar hallways of your school, you finally found the maintenance room. Both of you had messed around with a few switches until after one specific click, the familiar whirr of fans and buzz of electricity began to ring in your ears. The lights had turned on immediately, leaving you two to squint in surprise.

“Shit!” He had exclaimed, the sudden brightness of your environment leaving you two to close your eyes for a few seconds. “That was painful.”

Soon enough, both of you guys have your eyes open and you simply nod in agreement. Basking in darkness does have its’ disadvantage for when you decide to turn on some lights. It wasn’t your fault your damn school had been irresponsible enough not to double check for any other living human beings in the buildings.

Sure, now you had fans every other corner whatsoever but for some reason, it was just extremely hot in the area. You’re fanning yourself with your palm, as if it would do you any good, in desperation. Jungkook removes his sweater and leaves himself in a black shirt.

“Is there no place in here with air-conditioning?” You blurt out, the warm temperature getting to your head. You did not find the maintenance room in the darkness just to continue suffering. He tilts his head to the side, trying to think of an area while you two continue walking aimlessly.

He hums, and starts to change direction. “The library.”

With his suggestion, you sigh in content. How did you miss that idea? You were literally there at least thrice a week. The place has the best air-conditioning system in your entire school but the problem would usually be the amount of freshmen crowding under the vents or the seniors shushing the younger classmen since they were studying profusely for their upcoming college entrance tests. The area was even more crowded during the exam season wherein everyone was actually trying to cram months of lessons into one week of ‘study sessions’.

Before you know it, you guys are entering the large, high-ceilinged area. There is moonlight glimmering in through the large panels on the right side of the library, the roof being transparent glass. You’ve never been there at night but with the dimmer lighting as compared to the day, you were sure you liked the place a lot better.

“Wow, this place is amazing at night.” You breathe out, garnering the boy’s attention.

“Yeah,” he agrees. “It is. Especially without the noisy underclassmen. Those obnoxious little shits make this place a hangout spot.”

With his undeniably true statement, you burst into a small fit of laughter. Jungkook doesn’t miss the way the light hits your face in an extremely flattering angle which scares him because he only thinks about that kind of stuff when the moon is the only source of light when a girl’s under him. He also doesn’t miss how you try to cover your mouth in an attempt to stay slient.

“Why are you trying to be quiet? There’s literally nobody here to tell us shut up. “ He asks, lifting an eyebrow. As if to emphasize his point, he places the sides of his hands to surround his lips.

“WE CAN DO WHATEVER WE WANT!” He screams into the open area and the action makes you laugh even louder and hit his arm. He begins to chuckle at your reaction and makes his way to sit down on one of the tables near the shelves.

“Tell me, Y/N- what exactly has been worthy of being read by you?” He asks, leaning back on the table with his arms straightened and palms pressed flat on the surface. His gaze is focused on you and you usher to one of the shelves, quickly skimming through the titles.

Your fingers end up touching a classic- The Great Gatsby by F. Scott Fitzgerald and reminisce the one time you picked the book up back in your first year in high school. At that time, you only heard the name in your English class along with a brief idea of the novel but it had interested you enough to read the book.

You hand Jungkook the pocket book and upon looking at the title, his face lights up. “This is one of my favorite books!” He exclaims as he turns the brittle pages. “I take it that you like old stories? Classic, maybe?”

You nod, lifting an eyebrow. Jeon, widely known as a heartbreaker, reading these kinds of novels? There’s definitely a lot of things that this kid was hiding from the world. He gets up from where he’s been sitting and walks over to where you were previously and begins naming books, asking you if you’ve read them. From Pride and Prejudice to Wuthering Heights up to Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet, you say yes to everything he’s said.

Only when he mentions “To Kill A Mockingbird” do you actually shake your head from side to side to indicate a no. He immediately pulls the book out from the shelf. “You should really read this book. It’s amazing.”

“When did you find the time to read all of these things? Not to be rude but you don’t exactly seem like the type to spend a weekend reading The Little Prince whatsoever.” You find yourself asking the million-dollar question and he nods slowly, understanding.

“Other people don’t really know the saying don’t judge a book by it’s cover, don’t they?” He retaliates, tapping the cover of the novel he’s encouraging you to read. “But to answer your question, I read all of these during my summers starting eighth grade. After football practice, I’d always pass by a nearby bookstore. The place introduced me to reading and I guess I began to like literature.”

You nod, making sense of his explanation. That was true- lots of people forgot that there was always more to people than they let on which was sad at times but you couldn’t help but feel guilty that you never really tried to speak to Jungkook outside of now, when both of you were stuck with each other in the confines of the school.

“Don’t take my quotation to heart, even I used to think you were just a basic goody two-shoes. We’re even.” The mood becomes lighter after that and the two of you continue to spend an entire hour basking in the night light and the comfortable temperature the library provides you two with.

Jeon Jungkook is a lot of things, and so are you. What he is tonight, however, is a young man full of surprises. And instead of worrying about how the rest of the night will go, your thoughts have turned around.

Now, you’re looking forward to the rest of the night.

HELLO IT HAS BEEN 14 DAYS SINCE I HAVE UPDATED STUCK AND I HOPE YOU ENJOY THIS!!! IT IS MY EXAM WEEK STILL BUT PLEASE DO NOT HESITATE TO SEND ME QUESTIONS/REQUESTS/COMMENTS BECAUSE I APPRECIATE THAT <33

also wow this comeback is literally amazing i felt inspired to write this because of mic drop jungkook!!! also i will try to update more frequently cause ive been inactive as heck on this blog im sorry huhu

349 notes · View notes

thefanficmonster · 3 years

Text

Strictly Professional

Corpse Husband x Reader (Gender Neutral)

Warnings: Swearing

Genre: HUMOR, Fluff, RPF (Real Person Fic)

Summary: A slip of the tongue leads Corpse to make an unexpected confession which leads to him getting lectured by his best friend. That’s all you need to know, the rest shall unfold before your eyes.

Requested by Anon. Hi dear! Thank you so much for your lovely request! I’m so sorry it’s been so long overdue but here it finally is and I really hope you come across it and read it. If so I hope you enjoy it! Love, Vy ❤

I’ve buried my head under my arms, resting it on my desk as my ears are still violated by the hollering coming from my headset. I don’t know what in me snapped out of nowhere or what caused the slip-up, but what matters is that it happened and now I’m in some hot water. I’m practically the soup everyone in this Discord call at the moment will be eating for dinner tonight, getting a real kick at my expense - some even having the audacity to be mad at me over it - ahem, Rae, ahem - but bottom line: I won’t live this down easily.

“Hey everyone! What did I miss?“ Sykkuno, who was running late and missed this entire debacle makes an appearance. If it were any other occasion, I’d be overjoyed to hear he’s finally joining us, but his question of what he had missed renders me only able to cringe and wait for my friends’ next move.

“Sykkuno!“ Rae exclaims ecstatically, “Oh, strap in, imma tell you what you missed...“

“No, you won’t tell him, Rae.“ Toast cuts her off, sounding uncharacteristically serious, especially when taken into account how hard he was laughing just a moment ago, “This is Corpse’s tale to tell, don’t spare him the shame of telling it one more time.“

And just when I thought this fucker would prove himself to be a true friend...

“Oof, this sounds serious...“ Sykkuno says to fill the silence I purposely let linger just so I don’t give these bullies the satisfaction of hearing my embarrassment all over again even though they inevitably will.

“It is...“ I sigh with a heavy heart, hiding my face in the palm of my hand, “It’s really bad and embarrassing and...I’d rather not retell it at all let alone for a second time, but here it goes...“ I inhale as much air as I can as a method of gaining confidence before I start talking, “So you know MGK and I made a song. Yeah well, we’re gonna be making a music video for it and I asked Rae to be in it. Thing is, I wanted to ask Y/N first. Buckle up, this is where it starts going downhill: ok so I went over to their place so we could just chit chat an marathon a few movies like we usually do over the weekends but I also wanted to bring up the whole ‘hey, wanna be in my music video’ thing but didn’t know how. Mind you, we were drinking beers this whole time, might’ve had a few too many actually. Ok, we definitely had a few too many, but back on track: as I was blabbering and stumbling over my words, nervous as all hell and unable to string the simple question inside my head, all Y/N did was tilt their head and smile at me. You know, the odd thing is it was a genuine smile, not a drunken grin like you’d expect from someone on their fourth beer bottle. And then, out of the blue, they had the audacity to hit me with: ‘You’re so cute’ and I just sat there frozen for a few seconds. I mean, my reaction was on point - who wouldn’t react like that if their crush told them they found them cute. Anyway - I was like ‘what?’ and then, out of an even bluer blue, they freaking kissed me. I nearly had a heart attack damn it!“

“And he never asked them to be in the DAYWALKER music video!“ Rae clearly couldn’t hold it in any longer.

“I didn’t get the time! I was out of there in the blink of an eye!“ I bark, feeling my face heating up with embarrassment and regret. God, I should never ask how stupid I can get because I keep surprising myself in the end with just how far my stupidity goes. It’s fucking insane.

“Oh God, poor Y/N.“ Sykkuno sighs, sounding only a tiny bit as though he’s about to laugh. I appreciate his self-control honestly, the rest of these fuckers were dying laughing as though our friends and my crush kissing me and me responding like I had an allergic reaction was the best joke to ever be told.

“Poor Y/N?“ I snap a little, “What about me?“

“Yeah, poor Y/N!“ Rae backs Sykkuno up, “Poor Y/N and poor me for the missed opportunity to me in a music video for a song of one of my best friends with another one of my best friends. Corpse, you better fix this!!“

“How?!“ I’m aware I sound desperate but I seriously wanna fix it just have no idea how to go about it. I mean, if this looney group of nine people over here don’t come up with a plan no one will so not all hope for me is dead just yet. Even if we all had only one braincell we’d still be able to figure it out - I mean, ten braincells ain’t as bad as it sounds. Truth be told, Y/N’s the real brain of the group and they’d most definitely be able to help me - so fuck the irony.

“Call them.“ Sykkuno suggests so casually as though it’s a no-brainer. I’d go as far as to say his nonchalance almost made me laugh. Has he forgotten who he’s talking to?

“No way.“ I turn that down real quick, unable to even imagine the course of that phone call without cringing.

“No, Sykkuno’s right, call them right here right now. Ask them to star in the music video and then swerve the conversation to that kiss.“ Charlie’s suddenly decided to join the torturing being preformed upon me over here.

“What will I even say? I have no idea what to tell them!“ I complain, aware that I sound like a tantrum-throwing toddler but it’s really not my fault.

“Corpse. Corpse dear, listen to me, follow each word I say really carefully, ok?“ Rae asks, her voice now pitched as though she’s addressing an actual child. Yeah, that’s her well-known way of mocking me. “How about you say the actual fucking words. You know: ‘Hey Y/N, MGK and I are making a music video for DAYWALKER, wanna be in it?’“

I sigh, clearly defeated.

I pull out my phone, muttering to the crowd I’m about to speak in front of to be quiet as I put the ringing call on speaker, sweating like a pig the whole time. The room has risen in temperature and this hoodie has thickened, providing more warmth that’s more suffocating than comforting when it’s a hundred degrees outside. Or when I’m about to talk to my crush after THAT incident.

“Hello?“ Y/N’s voice on the other side rips me from my thoughts’ grasp, reminding me I’m on a mission.

“Hey Y/N, what’s up?“ I reply a little too quickly. Not giving them the time to reply with anything, I continue: “Hey Y/N, MGK and I are making a music video for DAYWALKER, wanna be in it?“

DAMN IT WHY DID YOU HAVE TO SAY IT WORD FOR WORD?!?!

“Oh....“ They sound confused - and rightfully so - but then regain their composure finally, “I-I’d love to. Thanks for the opportunity, Corpse. I’m so happy you’ve made it so far. I’d be honored to be in the music video.“

Ok, that’s partial relief. Now - time for the second phase of this plan

“Uh....“ and there goes my whole vocabulary out the window, “You’re welcome.“

“Cool...cool...“ they mutter awkwardly, clearly looking for a way to end the call, “Um, by the way...this is strictly professional, right?“

No! No it’s not! Of course it isn’t! I’ve been head over heels for you for a year now, damn it!

“Of course, o-of course it is. No worries.“ I reply, once again, a little too quickly. Faster than I could’ve prevented it.

“Ok cool...well, text me the details....“ They once again trail off, hoping I’ll catch the hint.

And so I succumb.

“Will do.“ I sigh, “See ya.“

“See ya.“ They reply and hang up.

I’m left there staring at my phone screen with utter self-disappointment and frustration that’s so intense I cannot even express it in any way.

The whole lobby is at a loss of words too - all nine of them astonished by my stupidity. Fortunately though, Charlie is quick to pull himself together and speak up because God forbid Charlie ever falls speechless, then we’d be SERIOUSLY in danger.

“Corpse. You. Are. The. Biggest. Fucking. Idiot.“

257 notes · View notes

thefanficmonster · 3 years

Text

Much Cooler

Corpse Husband & Emma Langevin

Warnings: Swearing

Genre: Platonic Fluff, RPF (Real Person Fic)

Summary: There’s always a certain level of uncertainty when meeting someone you’ve only known online. There’s that sense of insecurity that your relationship with them will never be the same or - even worse - that their view of you might change for the worse. But there’s nothing more thrilling than seeing the person you’ve been talking to constantly for the past however long standing across from you.

Requested by Anon. Hi dear! Thank you so much for your request and I’m so terribly sorry for how late it’s coming out but I hope the fic makes it worth the wait! Lots of love, Vy ❤

“CORPSE! Wake up you famous dumbass!“ is the first thing the poor man heard over the phone at 9 AM on this fine Saturday morning.

It’s more than enough to make him contemplate why he even decided to pick it up in the first place considering he wouldn’t have been very able to participate in the conversation due to his sleepiness. He also, of course, made the mistake of not checking the caller ID which apparently wasn’t necessary considering how recognizable that voice and accent are.

“It’s 9 AM, Emma.“ He states as a tired parent would to a child, “I’m concerned as to why you’re up so early. More so as to why you’re calling me of all people.“

He can practically hear her roll her eyes but he still smirks to himself, knowing she can’t contradict him or argue since he’s completely right with his claims. “Whatever. Remind me to never call you to congratulate you on a milestone again.“

Now that pokes at his attention with a stick. Lately, said attention has proven to be a hibernating bear, leaving Corpse with a lack of interest or motivation for anything but damn if that sentence wasn’t enough to roll him out of bed and hop on PC. “What? What milestone? Subscribers?“

“Nope! You got two million likes on ‘E-girls are ruining my life’! I can’t believe I have to tell you this! Didn’t you notice the numbers climbing?!“ Emma, as annoyed and sarcastic as she’s trying to sound, she’s obviously overjoyed on his behalf and is super proud of him and of the project she luckily agreed to take a small part in.

As his PC boots up, Corpse can’t help but roll his eyes at Emma’s comment, “Well unlike you I have better things to do than refresh a page over and over aga-” His sentence is quickly cut off when he sees the number of likes under the song for himself.

Knowing that he’d find it there didn’t change the feeling of seeing it for the first time at all. It’s so surreal and so hard for his mind to comprehend. Seeing as how little he thinks of himself, his content and his art, this is like his success coming to slap him across the face as if to punctuate to him how wrong that mindset is.

“You know, it wouldn’t hurt if you offered to take me out for at least a coffee to celebrate, bro.“ Emma comments sarcastically, joking only halfway from what he can sense.

He smirks, “Trying to even the playing field, I see.” He replies, referring to the fact that he’s still a faceless mystery to her while her face is literally the cover art for one of his songs.

She laughs but is quick to dismiss his claim, “Nah, I might be a curious and nosey little shit on other occasions, but other people’s privacy is not something I dig my nose into. However, if I were to even the playing field between us it wouldn’t be appearance-wise. More personality-wise. For my sake and yours I choose to believe you are way cooler in person than you are through messages or on a call.”

This withdraws a genuine fit of laughter from Corpse who throws his head back, a few strands of hair moving aside to reveal his shiny eyes, “Well then, instead of giving me the benefit of the doubt, how about we settle it once and for all? Tomorrow? I’ll text you the location.”

Emma’s eyebrows shoot upwards as soon as she comprehends his words and the tone that leaves no room for her to assume he’s joking, “Wait what? How come you’re agreeing to this? And so easily? Nah, this a trap if I’ve ever seen it.”

Corpse laughs yet again, “No trap, Em. I just can’t have you doubting my coolness.”

* * *

The main reason as to why Corpse requested for this meeting to be today is because he feared that if he had more than twenty four hours to dwell on it he’d chicken out. Little did he know it was the same for Emma. Their friendship has only ever existed with the bridge of social media connecting them and they both can’t help but fear the other might not like who they are IRL. They fear they unintentionally become a different person or change things about themselves subconsciously when communicating with people online. Bottom line, they’re scared of letting the other person down with who they really are, unaware that their personalities are most likely the exact same because, as the people who know them can confirm, neither Corpse nor Emma are the type to put on a show in order to be liked. They would rather have no friends because of who they are than have friends and fans of their persona instead of the real them.

And so, while slightly afraid and anxious about this meeting, both of them see it as a relief test to see if the friendship is in fact as real as it’s seemed these past months.

Corpse was the one to choose the location of their meet-up, a location Emma didn’t even think twice about agreeing on, and ever since, they’ve both been counting the hours until their scheduled meeting time. It’s not about impressing each other, at least that’s what they’re both telling themselves, but rather proving to the other that they’re worthy of their friendship. They might throw snarky and sarcastic comments at one another that others would give a side-eye glance to and question if their friendship is real, but they know the dynamic best and they sure as hell don’t wanna lose it or each other.

Best friends are the ones who roast each other after all - you can’t tell me I’m wrong.

The nervous Corpse fidgets with the insides of his hoodie pockets as he waits outside the café, having arrived ten minutes early because he couldn’t stand being alone with his thoughts in his apartment, judging every fragment of himself twice as harshly as usual. Emma, on the other hand, could barely bring herself to leave her home. She kept retouching her appearance, despite knowing Corpse wouldn’t judge her even if she showed up in pjs. To be fair she contemplated doing just that several times because her hair pissed her off enough to get her discouraged on her outfit altogether but she did eventually talk herself into pulling it together. She already knew she’d be at least five minutes late, but once again, she knew Corpse wouldn’t care.

He’d wait, cause that’s the kind of friend he was. Cause that’s the kind of friend she was for him too.

And boy did it take her less than a second to recognize him. She wasn’t even out of the car when she saw him and knew it was exactly who she was looking for. He too, as if with a sixth sense that registered her presence, shoots his head up from his phone to look up at her, their gazes meeting. There’s a brief moment of close-to-shocked silence, their eyes a bit widened as their brains comprehend that they’re within arm’s reach of one another.

That’s when Emma’s the first to break the bubble of awe as a wide grin spreads across her face and she runs to Corpse, wrapping him in a hug before he’s even realized the distance between the two’s been closed.

“Hey.“ She mumbles, her face hidden in his hoodie due to the height difference.

“H-hey.“ He replies, hesitantly wrapping his arms around her too.

“I was right.“ She says once she pulls away, “You are much cooler face-to-face.“ She pauses for a second, narrowing her eyes, “You’d be even cooler if you bought me coffee though.“

Earning a laugh from him, she’s guided into the café by the arm Corpse wraps around her shoulders, telling her he’s get her a milkshake cause he doesn’t want to see her high on caffeine. Needless to say, they both are, indeed, much cooler to one another IRL.

74 notes · View notes

gukyi · 7 years

Text

the millionaire and his lover | jjk

⇒ summary: over the course of your lifelong friendship with jungkook, you can’t say that you’ve ever had the greatest ideas, and a fake relationship with the boy you’ve been in love with for years is no exception.

⇒ self-gratuitous ceo au, friends-to-lovers, and fake relationship trope rolled into one big shitstorm of a jungkook fic

⇒ pairing: jungkook x female reader

⇒ word count: 18k

⇒ genre: fluff, angst, and light smut

⇒ warnings: alcohol mentions, smut

⇒ a/n: hello all! i wanted to kickoff my writing on this blog with a bang, so here’s a longish fic on my wildest dreams.

When you first tell people that you happen to know CEO and multimillionaire Jeon Jungkook, they tell you one of three things:

1: You’re so lucky! Could you introduce me?

2: You must have saved an entire country in your past life.

3: Is he as much of an asshole as the news outlets make him out to be?

What you don’t say, though, is this: You and Jungkook have had history for as long as you could remember. As not only neighbors, but also childhood friends, you happen to know quite a lot about the man who made a name of himself before he even graduated from university. You would also very much like to keep quiet the fact that you’ve harbored a crush on the boy for quite some time now, obvious to everyone whose name isn’t Jeon Jungkook.

Jeon Jungkook is, in one word, brilliant. He is brilliantly intelligent, brilliantly talented, brilliantly beautiful. He is suave and smooth and gets what he wants and if he didn’t possess such a disdain for the tabloids that do nothing but stretch the truth, he would have them wrapped around his finger. Sure, he’s no actor or singer, but he is a celebrity, and a skilled one at that. The media know no boundaries when it comes to a man like Jungkook, painting him as stunning yet rude, rich yet selfish, smart but cold. You know they blow his brief affairs out of proportion, and you know they will never know the boy who fell off of his bicycle in the second grade.

Jungkook is not powerful enough to replace the stars in your sky, but he is powerful enough to rearrange them right in front of your eyes, creating endless constellations that all remind you of him. He is the boy you have cherished since your elementary school days, when he would accidentally drool on your shoulder and throw sand into your mouth, and you are the girl who, despite all class differences, has stuck by him through thick and thin. It is not enough, but perhaps to him, it is.

“Do you ever try to mooch off of his wealth?�� People ask you. “I would.”

And sure, every now and then you will ask him for money and he will give it to you, but your intentions are pure and you do not, will not, ever take his generosity for granted. Not when he has so much and you so little. You know what life is like when the world keeps trying to trip you, and a bit of smooth ground is not enough to keep you from forgetting the struggle.

That is, until you get laid off your job due to an influx of new workers, and your next student debt payment is due in roughly, a week.

“What?”

You glare at the email on the screen of the laptop you’ve had ever since your third year of secondary school. On the screen, in big, bold, black letters, are the words DISMISSAL NOTICE. Under them, your name.

This is the worst timing you’ve had in a long while. Not that your job was dreamy or anything, but it paid and it paid well enough for you to keep on top of your rent and your student debt payments. The rent’s been taken care of, especially since your eccentric roommate has a hell of a job and is pretty generous herself, offering to pay for more of the rent when she knows you can’t make it up to quota, in return for completing some of her schoolwork or whatever. It’s a good system, really, but this has thrown you for so many loops that you don’t know which way is up anymore.

“Fuck,” you mutter under your breath. Both elbows are on the desk in front of you as you rub your eyes, tired of this job and this room and this life. Days like this are the days you can’t stand to see Jungkook’s face on the cover of a magazine or his name in the headline of an article, flaunting his wealth with his Armani suits and Rolex watches and slicked-back hair. Envious isn’t a characteristic you’d like to describe yourself with, but when it comes to him, the feeling can’t help but creep up.

You have no idea how you’re going to be able to afford the last several hundred thousand won of debt payment without a job. Sure, Jungkook is only a mere few phone taps away, but even this is too big of a favor for you to ask him. You don’t think you’ve ever asked for more than fifty thousand won from him, and to Jungkook, that’s pocket change.

So, in perhaps more of a desperation than a determination, you start cruising the online bulletin boards and local stores’ websites for a job, one that you are vying to keep.

A day passes, and then another, and nothing.

“No luck?” Your roommate asks as she walks into your bedroom, seeing you hunched over your laptop with red eyes and messy hair.

“No,” you sigh. “No one’s hiring. Probably because the graduating university class this year was so big. Everyone wants young employees, or they’ve already got them.”

“You’ll get it,” your roommate assures you. You’re doubtful, but her encouraging words lift up your spirit ever so slightly. “I believe in you.”

“Thanks, Wendy.”

She smiles before leaving your room, shutting the door behind her like a true best friend. You really appreciate Wendy, and her uncanny brightness and constant friendliness.

The job hunt continues.

Three days before the deadline and you’ve only been able to make a couple thousand won for helping an old lady with her groceries up several flights of stairs. Like a true procrastinator, you are somewhat stretching out your search — which you know you shouldn’t be doing — but it’s not like a new job offer will just pop out of thin air. They’re all taken, all of them. You knew not going directly into a career after graduating was a shitty move, but you did it anyway, and here you are. Besides, what can you do with a history degree anyway when history teachers are a dime a dozen?

Wendy is making no mention of Jungkook, which you are very thankful for. She knows how you feel about borrowing money from him, so he is, essentially, out of the picture. Or, so you hoped he was.

As you’re lounging around on your sofa, lazily scrolling the forums for any more job popups, your phone rings.

It’s Jungkook, because of course it’s Jungkook, and the very fact that he’s calling you rather than texting you makes you know that this is serious business.

“Hello?”

“Y/N! How are you?” Jungkook exclaims on the other end.

“Busy,” you reply, sort of telling the truth but also sort of lying. Yes, you technically are busy with your job hunt, but you are also not busy with your job hunt thanks to your superior procrastination skills.

“Busy? Is now a bad time?” You can practically see the concern on Jungkook’s face.

“No, you’re good. What’s up?”

“I was wondering if you could meet me at the company? I have a favor to ask you,” Jungkook asks.

“A favor?” You sputter, clearly surprised. A favor? Since when was he the asker of favors? For as long as you’ve known him, it’s almost always been the other way around. Now you really know this is something serious.

“Yeah, if you don’t mind. We could go out for lunch too, if you’d like. There’s this great Italian place that just opened up in Gangnam that we could try—”

“So soon?” You ask, looking down at yourself. You most certainly do not have your Gangnam style on, thank you very much.

“If you’re cool with that. I’d like to meet up sometime today, though,” says Jungkook.

Wendy walks into the living room where you sit, having your conversation. She can tell immediately from your furrowed brows that it’s Jungkook you’re talking to.

What’s he want? She mouths.

He wants a favor, you mouth back. And lunch.

Go! Wendy motions as though it’s the most obvious thing in the world. She may know a thing or two about your harbored and quite frankly, unsurprising crush on Jungkook.

You look back at her like she has fifteen heads, surprised that she’s so adamant about you going on this outing with the boy. She merely glares at you in response, a single eyebrow raised. You know you’ve lost this debate.

“Sure,” you say into the phone at the same time that Wendy pumps a fist in support. “Give me fifteen minutes to get ready and I’ll be over soon.”

“Great!” Jungkook exclaims into the phone. “See you!”

The second you turn the phone off, you’re about to argue with Wendy about her decisions made throughout the entire conversation, but she cuts you off, shoving you into your room and in front of your closet.

“Scream at me later, you have a date!”

“It’s not a date!” You whine from behind the closed door. “It’s just… an outing!” You mentally facepalm. Yes, this is a date. You know you can hear Wendy snickering from the hallway as you shuffle through your closet for the nicest dress you own.

The ‘company’ Jungkook was talking about is his skyscraper of an office building smack dab in the middle of Seoul, his name plastered in big metal letters across the top reading, JEON CORPORATIONS. It’s hard to mistake it for anything else, really, and as you step off of the bus right in front of his building, you’re as intimidated as always. Every time you come to this building you tell yourself not to look up, and every time, you do.

You feel so out of place walking into the pristine building, the floors marbled and the walls gleaming. The lobby, as per usual, is sparkling, likely a result of Jungkook’s need for everything to be as neat and tidy as possible. Even when you were little, his room was always spotless and his schoolbooks ordered by height, then color.

You swear you’ve been to Jungkook enough times while he’s at work for the staff in the lobby to stop questioning you, but protocol, you guess. It’s not very often a young, lost girl stumbles into the building without a product to sell or a camera crew behind her.

“Hi,” you say to the lady at the front desk. She has an earpiece in and her hair is tied tightly back to reveal the crisp collar of her blazer. “I’m here to see Jeon Jungkook.”

“Name?”

You give her your name and she shuffles through her computer, clicking away before she shakes her head, friendly but professional.

“You’re not on his list.”

You roll your eyes and sigh. You’re never on his list. His list is for businessmen and authorized interviews and people who have a meeting with him in his big meeting room with those leather chairs that are surprisingly uncomfortable, not you. Surely his staff should recognize you by now. You show up a the building once every week or two.

“He asked me to come here,” you say through clenched teeth. Like he always does is on the tip of your tongue, but you keep your mouth shut so you don’t get confronted by those terrifying security guards of his.

“Oh,” the lady says, disregarding your comment completely. “You’ll just have to wait until he’s free, I guess.”

Lord knows when that will be. You know you can’t necessarily stomp up to his office without any sort of authorization, but you assume that if you’ve done it before, you can do it again.

“Thanks,” you say, not thankful at all. You walk up to the elevators before the lady can say anything to stop you, and get in before she can get out of her seat to kick you out of the building. His office is on the top floor — surprise, surprise —so you hit the button and wait in silence. Luckily, Jungkook isn’t awful enough to force you to listen to that shitty elevator music. You spend the brief ride thinking on what you might say to the big men guarding the door to his office, but before you can come up with anything plausible, you reach the top floor.

As expected, once you approach his door one of the big men places his hand in front of the handle, preventing you from going inside.

“Name?”

“Ugh,” you reply, tired. “Y/N. Can’t I just go in?” These guards can’t be as dense as his staff downstairs.

“Sorry, Miss, but Mr. Jeon is busy right now. Is it urgent?”

“He invited me here,” you tell them, as though that will change anything.

“Mr. Jeon made no mention of that to us, so unfortunately, I cannot let you inside,” the other big man says.

You stretch over the hand covering the door and knock on the wood roughly and loudly. The guards are affronted, you can tell, but you really don’t care. They both step in front of the door now, their heavy bodies blocking the entire thing from view.

“Jungkook! It’s me!” You shout over them, hoping your voice pierces through the mass of wall and big men.

Not long after, the door opens.

“Y/N? Here already?” Jungkook asks, forcing the two big men to step aside. “I didn’t think you’d get here for another ten minutes.”

“I got an earlier bus,” you reply.

“Mr. Jeon?” One of the men interrupt. “Do you know her?”

Jungkook looks to his guard before he glances towards you, eyes wide with fear. You’re glaring at him, your eyes squinted and arms crossed. “Yes, she’s a good friend.” He grabs your arm and pulls you inside. “Thanks!”

The moment the door is closed, Jungkook braces himself.

“You know how much of a pain your staff was to me today?” You shout at him. “I swear, they made me lose five years of my life. Why am I not on your fucking list?” You push his chest, but he is strong as hell and doesn’t even move.

“Sorry, Y/N,” Jungkook says, shrugging. “I’ll try to remember to remind my staff that you’re authorized to be here at any time.”

“Yeah, you punk,” you reply, collapsing on the couch he keeps in his office. It is, for the most part, untouched, your body normally the only thing that ever sits on it. Jungkook doesn’t let very many people into his office, let alone allows them to sit on his couch as crassly as you.

“I’m glad you got here. I could ask you for the favor now, while we’re at lunch, or after,” Jungkook says, leaning back in his office chair. Sometimes, when he runs out to go settle some deal or simply use the bathroom, you spin yourself around in it. It’s a rule that when you are met with a wheely office chair, you must spin.

“Tell it to me now, because I have a feeling I’m not going to like it, and then the lunch can compensate me,” You advise, not even looking at him as you lie on your back.

Jungkook chuckles. “How do you know you won’t like it? I haven’t even told you.”

“You never ask me for favors, Jungkook,” you remind him. “I think the last time you asked me for a favor, YG was still a thriving entertainment company.”

That comment elicits a laugh out of Jungkook. “Listen, you have to trust me, Y/N.”

“I never trust you, Jungkook.” You smile as you sit up on his couch, beaming at him.

“Well,” Jungkook begins, and you’re already shaking your head. “My family is coming from Busan to visit next week, and within the next couple weeks I have a ton of business parties and get-togethers, so—”

“I am not going to iron your fucking suits, Jungkook. You should know how to iron things by now,” you immediately say, sternly. If Jungkook asks you to come over to his extravagant penthouse just so you can do his laundry one more time, you’re going to explode.

“No, no, that’s not what I was saying,” Jungkook laughs. “Let me finish, you get too ahead of yourself.”

You sit back, mildly intrigued as to what his favor might be.

“You know that my family’s pretty adamant about me having a relationship, and at the business parties I keep getting asked about a girlfriend, so I was wondering if you could accompany me as a pretend girlfriend, almost?” He asks, wincing.

He should be wincing. This is definitely the weirdest thing someone has asked you in forever.

“A pretend girlfriend?” You ask, confused.

“Yeah, like, you would walk around with me and we’d pretend to be dating and stuff. I was going to just find some other girl, but you’re the one I, uh, trust the most.” Jungkook scratches at the nape of his neck, nervous. “Like, you know the most about me anyway, and it’s practically like we’re dating already, except we’re not.”

“What’s in it for me?”

“I’ll pay you. And buy you nice things.”

That gets your attention. Payment? To hang around Jungkook? Normally, you’d be declining in almost an instant, refusing to accept money in return for your company. But now, in a situation like yours, with your debt payment creeping up on the horizon and a futile job search, it actually doesn’t sound like a bad idea.

“For how long?” You ask, intrigued.

“Um, a few weeks, I guess. You could move in for that time period too, if you want. It makes it seem more realistic,” he offers.

If Wendy was with you right now, she’d be making an elaborate display behind Jungkook that spells out one thing, which is no way. You know it’s a bad idea; the ghost of Wendy is hissing it in your ear. You’ve seen the movies, you know how all fake relationships end up, and still, you are genuinely considering taking the offer. If Jungkook is offering you a couple of weeks where you can finally experience what you’ve been dreaming of doing for years, then perhaps it might not be such a terrible idea after all.

“I could?”

“Sure, I have tons of space,” Jungkook says without a shadow of a doubt. He seems pleased. “It’s so lonely up there. I could use some of your company.”

“Really? Never pegged you as a people person, you know,” you tease him. “You’re always so aloof and distant.”

“Don’t tell me you’re believing what the media says about me now,” Jungkook says, exasperated by you. Tiring him out happens to be a favorite hobby of yours.

“Oh, don’t worry, you big oaf. I just don’t know if this fake dating thing might be a good idea,” you say.

“It’ll be fine,” Jungkook says reassuringly. “We’re already best friends, so it’s not like anything will change. We’re just friends.”

“Just friends.”

“Just friends,” Jungkook states. “With a bit of kissing on the side.”

“What?”

Jungkook laughs at your reaction, your eyes blown wide in surprise at the notion of kissing him. You’re in shock at the idea of kissing him, the boy you can’t help but love, but also in shock with how calmly he brought it up. Hasn’t he seen the movies? Doesn’t he worry about what might happen to your relationship?

“We have to kiss, we’re dating,” Jungkook chuckles.

You open your mouth, about to respond when Jungkook’s phone vibrates in his pocket. He pulls it out and jumps up from where he was leaning back on his desk, grabbing your hand and his suit jacket as he pulls you towards the door. “Our reservation!”

“What! You made a reservation?” You exclaim as he nods to his security guard and tugs you into the elevator.

“Yeah. We’re going out, aren’t we?”

“But won’t this seem kind of… I don’t know, scandalous? Reporters wait outside your building every day. They’ll see us!” You worry.

Jungkook looks down in between the two of you and holds your hand, interlocking your fingers. It’s not unusual for you to hold hands often — it’s become a symbol of friendship — but this time, it feels different.

“Yeah, and you’re my girlfriend now, so I don’t care.”

The first thing Jungkook wants you to do is move in for the next few weeks.

You don’t have to bring too much stuff, just enough for you to live at my place. I can buy you new clothes if you want, he texts you as you are stuffing your suitcases with all of the clothes you deem necessary to survive in a new environment. It doesn’t matter that Jungkook is rich beyond belief and could probably accommodate you like a king, you want your goddamn pajamas.

“It’s going to be so lonely,” Wendy laments as you pull your suitcase towards the door to your apartment.

You laugh, amused. “You’ll be fine. I’ll keep you updated, no worries.”

“Damn straight you will,” Wendy says back, eyeing you with such a ferocity that you know you can’t back down from your unofficial promise. “Are you only taking one suitcase?”

“It’s got all my shit, my clothes, my laptop, my toiletries,” you say, shrugging. You know you’re forgetting something, you just can’t exactly pinpoint what it is.

“Alright, if you say so. When’s your bus?”

“In like, ten minutes, I think? I’ll probably go outside and wait there,” you say, slipping into your sneakers.

Wendy’s gazing out the window, appearing particularly confused at what she’s looking at. “I don’t think you’ll need to take the bus, Y/N.”

“Huh?”

You walk up to where she stands, eyeing the landscape outside. Below your apartment, you can see half of a gleaming black limousine, waiting. Without thinking twice, you know it’s from Jungkook. Of course.

“I hate this boy,” you sigh. You didn’t even tell him what time you’d be leaving your apartment, and still, he does this.

“Better go, don’t want to keep that limo driver waiting for too long,” Wendy says, pushing you towards the door before you’ve even got both sneakers on.

“What?”

“See you in three weeks!”

You find yourself just outside the door to your apartment, and when you turn around, you are met with Wendy’s beaming face right before it shuts in front of you, signifying that you are no longer allowed to be in the apartment.

Once you’ve migrated downstairs, the driver greets you politely before ushering you inside the limo. Only the best for you, is what’s written on a notecard on the table inside. Fucking Jungkook.

You have to say, Jungkook really does spare no expense for your comfort, evidenced by the expensive mini-fridge stuffed to the brim with sodas and brownies and the pristine leather seating. It makes you feel out of place, really, your worn-in clothes sitting in such fine seats. Then again, you normally feel out of place whenever you’re surrounded by Jungkook’s expensive belongings.

The drive finally comes to a halt in front of Jungkook’s building, yet another skyscraper that hurts your eyes to look up at. You offer to tip the driver on your way out, holding twenty-thousand won out for him to grab, but he declines, telling you that he’s already been paid plenty, courtesy of Mr. Jeon, obviously.

At least the security guards at Jungkook’s own penthouse know who you are. You have no issue trying to coax them into letting you inside, them having already been notified of your arrival. You merely bow towards them as they let you inside.

Much like his office building, every time you visit his home you are taken aback by how extravagant yet stunning it is. The place is fucking immaculate, from the walls to the floors to the little turtle figurine sitting on his coffee table, likely worth more than several of your student debt payments. His house looks practically untouched, but you know that under the first impression lies a lived-in and loved abode. You can see it in the faint wear in the couches and the dullness of an otherwise brand-new refrigerator.

Jungkook isn’t there to greet you, probably too busy having some aggravating conference call or with his headphones in, playing Overwatch, but his stuff is. Normally, you’d flop onto his couch and stare at his built in television until he came out of his room, but with a suitcase in hand, you don’t really know what to do.

I’m here, you text him. He gets the notification instantly, and no more than a few seconds later, emerges from his cave.

“Oh! You are here,” Jungkook says, surprised to see you. “I thought you meant you were outside my building, or something.”

“Nope, they let me in. Nice place,” you comment.

“Oh yeah, like you haven’t seen it before,” Jungkook laughs. “I’m glad you’re here.”

“Me too,” you breathe in relief. Even though his penthouse is triple the size of your own apartment, it feels cozier. Perhaps that’s just Jungkook. “I feel like it’s been awhile since I came over.”

“Yeah, we’re always going out and shit instead,” Jungkook agrees. He gazes down to the suitcase by your legs. “Do you want me to take that for you?”

Before you have a chance to tell him no, you’re fine, you’re a big girl, he’s reaching down and picking up your suitcase with both hands, the muscles of his biceps peeking out of his white t-shirt. It makes your breath catch in your throat, but you pass it off as a hiccup as he leads you down the hallway. The two of you walk straight past the guest bedroom you slept in whenever you would stay over for a night, much to your confusion, as he brings you into his massive master bedroom.

“Uh, Jungkook?”

“Mmm?” He hums back, leaning down to place your suitcase on the ottoman in front of his bed. It drops onto the cushiony seat with a great thud, and he dusts his hands off before turning around to face you. “What’s up?”

“Aren’t I staying in the guest bedroom?” You question him, unsure of what he may be hinting at.

Jungkook chuckles. “No, silly. If my family’s coming over to stay for a few days, then you need to stay with me. They think we’re dating, remember?” He taps his head, as though he considers this ‘thinking ahead’.

“So we’re sleeping together?”

That makes Jungkook crack up. “No! Unless you want to, of course. I’m not opposed.”

You glare at him as he wiggles his eyebrows suggestively. “In your dreams, babe.”

You suppose sharing a bed with Jungkook won’t be too bad. You used to do it all the time as children, so other than age, what’s the difference? His room is gorgeous anyway, probably bigger than your entire apartment back in the outskirts of Seoul. Sleek and monochrome, which could be considered boring if it weren’t for the splashes of color in his red t-shirts and blue beanbag chairs.

You’ve reached the point with Jungkook where neither of you have very definitive boundaries. The second you open your suitcase to fish out your slippers, he’s digging in there with you, picking through your clothes and shoes and observing every single piece.

“You’re the fake girlfriend of a young multimillionaire and you bring this to my place?” He asks, holding up your ratty sweatpants that you’ve owned since secondary school.

“They’re comfortable, leave me alone,” you snap, snatching them back and placing them inside your suitcase. “Not all of us have money to drop on Gucci sweats.”

“I’m staging a fashion intervention,” Jungkook declares, standing up straight.

You look up at him, a single eyebrow raised, as he grabs his sunglasses from the table next to where you’re sitting and tries to put them on in one fluid motion. Unfortunately, he misses completely and ends up poking himself in the eye, making you laugh.

“Yes, very suave, babe,” you say, rubbing his arm soothingly.

“Don’t talk about it. Let’s go.”

“Go where?”

“I’m taking you shopping.”

You can’t even open your mouth to protest — Jungkook has done enough for you already — because he’s dragging you and all of your unprepared glory out of his shimmering penthouse and into one of his very many pricey cars, gleaming just like the rest of his belongings.

“Jungkook I really—”

“Oh shush, Y/N. I want to treat you,” Jungkook replies, zooming out of the complex’s garage and into the busy streets of Seoul. “My family’s coming over tomorrow. They’ll skin me if they see that I don’t buy you nice things with the money I have.”

“Wow, way to give me a nice image,” you joke.

“Trust me,” Jungkook pleads, shooting down the road. “I’m in the spotlight. I know what looks good.”

He finally stops in a parking garage that leads to the most high-end mall in the area (thank God, Jungkook was always a terrifying person to be in a car with. Every time you get in a car with him, you hold onto anything he can. He’s ruthless.), making your eyes widen. You slowly tilt your head down and look at your clothes in comparison to the boy’s pristine tee and skintight black jeans. He never lets you get ready for anything.

“Jungkook, I look like a trash bag,” you hiss as you walk inside. The mall is decently empty, save for the two of you and a couple other couples with heavy wallets. Jungkook is hardly paying attention to you, his focus drawn to the extravagant window displays of the stores you never dreamed of walking into.

“We can just buy something for you change into,” he says, waving off your concern. Your brows furrow as he stops in front of a store before cruising in. The ladies waiting by the doorway bow respectfully towards the two of you. Your eyes widen at the sight of the gold lining and expensive clothes. You feel like you can’t even touch this shit.

You take a seat on one of the couches in the main room as Jungkook peruses around, pointing at different articles of clothing without a care in the world as the attendant following him rushes to pull them from the racks. After several painstaking minutes, Jungkook returns with a hefty pile of clothes and a hefty price tag.

“Try these on, Y/N. There must be something you’ll like. I tried picking out the most comfortable things. We can get a dress at another store.”

A dress? You mouth to him as the attendant opens up a fitting room for you. Just then, it dawns on you that a nice dress is exactly what you were forgetting when you left your apartment, and Jungkook must have noticed. Jungkook sends you into the room with a wink as the door shuts.

“Don’t forget to show me each piece!”

And so, the process begins. Jungkook went way overboard, you think as you stare at the pile of clothes on the bench. It’s like the kid didn’t know where to stop. Eventually, after what must have been an hour of change, show Jungkook, criticize the article, repeat, you leave the store with a decent sized bag, worth much more than a mere student debt payment.

“Jungkook, next store we go into, don’t pick so much fucking shit,” you order, shoving him gently.

Jungkook chuckles. “But I like seeing you twirl around for me. ‘S cute.”

“Shut up,” you say, your cheeks heating up. You, if possible, stuff yourself further into the pricey hoodie Jungkook bought for you.

The next store you head into is much more posh. Somewhere along the way from the first store to the second, Jungkook had grabbed hold of your hand, the two of you interlocking your fingers together, and you hadn’t even noticed until he let go when you sat down on yet another couch.

“Do you see anything you like?” Jungkook asked, sitting next to you. “I won’t pick out stuff for you this time.”

“All of it,” you say jokingly, gazing around. Jungkook looks about ready to ask the attendant for everything, but you stop him. “I’m kidding.”

You get up to wander the racks, wondering if your hand is rich enough to feather through the silk and satin. Eventually, you stumble upon a white dress hidden in the corner of the store. It’s gorgeous, stunning and exquisite. Flower petals decorate the bottom hem of the dress and fade out as they move inward, with colors ranging from purple to blue to a pastel green.

You’re so enraptured by the dress you don’t even notice Jungkook walk up behind you. “Do you like this one?” He asks.

You, at a loss for words, nod. With a single wave of a hand, an attendant is taking one off of the rack in your size and shuffling you into a fitting room. If the dress looks ethereal, it feels divine.

When you emerge from the fitting room, the dress cinching at the waist before poofing out like a waterfall, Jungkook isn’t paying attention. He’s having one of his angry phone calls, probably with some business partner, lecturing into the phone with his brows furrowed. You cough to get his attention, and his mouth practically drops open.

“I’m gonna call you back,” he says into the phone before dropping it on the cushion of the couch.

“I take it that you like it?” You ask, twirling.

“Is it that obvious?”

“I dunno,” you laugh. “You seem pretty starstruck to me.”

“I’m speechless, babe,” Jungkook admits, scratching the nape of his neck. “You look great.”

You beam at him, taking in the luxury of it all. You, standing in the middle of an expensive store in a high-end mall, spinning around in a dress that feels like wearing a cloud, with Jungkook staring at you in his Armani goodness, lost for words. If this is a dream, then may the Sandman never leave your side.

“Good. I think so, too,” you smile, your hands brushing over the fabric.

You change out of the dress as Jungkook hands over his seemingly limitless credit card to the attendant, who rings you up as you come out of the fitting room with the dress draped over your arm, practically drowning it.

Jungkook immediately holds your hand, as though it’s almost second nature at this point, and the two of you walk out with yet another large bag, the high-end brand stapled all over it.

The rest of the afternoon is spent bouncing around the mall, divulging into shared macarons and ogling the window displays for all of the upcoming trends. Jungkook offers to buy you anything your eye catches, though you constantly decline, telling him that the new clothes are enough to keep you satiated. He eventually does coax you into buying some new shoes “to go with that new dress of yours”, cute pumps you already know you’ll abandon three hours into wearing them. You never really had time to shop before this, since you were always busy with your job and your work towards a master’s, but now, dancing around the marbled floors with Jungkook grinning fondly by your side, you feel like you could do it forever. Sometimes, Jungkook’s company is all you need.

(The facade shatters when you return home, laughing with glee at some hilarious story you brought up from when you were both mere children, and Jungkook writes you a check for suspiciously just enough money to get your upcoming student debt payment off of your back. Right, you think. None of this is real.)

“I think it’s been months since I last saw your parents,” you say the next morning, making your side of the bed as Jungkook does his. God, all of this is so domestic, it makes you want to hurl. Or grin.

“They miss you,” Jungkook replies. “I haven’t exactly… told them that you’re my girlfriend. I just said that I had a girlfriend.”

“Surely they must have recognized me from the tabloids,” you say. Those reporters have really been milking your one outing to that lunch place.

“Probably not, since I forced you to put on sunglasses in the car ride there,” chuckles Jungkook. “They’ll be pleased. It’ll get them off of my back for a while so I don’t have to deal with their constant whining to ‘get a girlfriend’, ‘get a girlfriend’.”

You leave your side of the bed to fish around in the dressers Jungkook is forcing you to use, because “if your suitcase is here, then this will seem really sudden”. You pull out your socks — Jungkook’s floor is damn cold — and tug them on as you make your way outside his carpeted room. You’ve slept in, the sun high in the sky by the time you’re making breakfast.

“Shit, my parents are getting here in an hour,” Jungkook swears as he checks the time on his phone. “This place looks like a shitstorm.”

You roll your eyes. Even in Jungkook’s definition of a shitstorm, his abode is more immaculate than yours could ever be.

“You clean, I’ll make breakfast,” you say.

“Just give me some cereal, please,” Jungkook asks as he shuffles around, getting the empty crisps packets and straightening out the blankets strewn over the arms of his couches.

“All you fucking have is cornflakes,” you observe, severely disappointed.

“They’re all I eat,” Jungkook says, shrugging.

“You’re a bland man, you know that, Jeon? Bland,” you comment, shaking your head as you pour two bowls of cornflakes for yourselves. Jungkook is intent on keeping his glass dining table sparking, which keeps you limited to his breakfast bar stools.

You eat your breakfast in relative silence and fairly quickly, allowing you more time to rush around and make things perfect before his parents arrive, much like when you and Wendy would clean up right before your landlord came for an inspection. Jungkook’s giving you instructions for when they arrive, telling you to not walk in until after he’s started talking about his mystery girlfriend to add an element of surprise.

“They have to think it’s cheesy and realistic as hell,” Jungkook reminds you as the minutes tick down.

“Stop telling me what to do, you little piece of shit,” you sneer back. “I can handle your parents.”

He shrugs. “If you say so.”

Barely five minutes later there’s a buzz that sounds throughout the penthouse, alerting the both of you of his parents’ arrival. Jungkook’s eyes widen as he stares at you from across the guest bedroom, where the two of you currently are, fixing up any last minute items. He bolts out of the room, leaving you flustered as you walk behind him. He’s already at the front door before you reach the end of the hallway, evidenced by the cries from the doorway of “Jungkook-ah!” and his muffled voice, likely a result of his father’s bone-crushing hugs.

“Where’s this girlfriend at?” A gruff voice asks, and you assume that must be his older brother, whom you did not know would be joining you. You and Jeonghyun never really got along.

To fit in with the perfect timing that Jungkook wanted, you walk out of the hallway at that exact moment, rendering his family members speechless.

“Jungkookie, did you see where I left my lip balm?” You ask as cutely as possible before immediately deciding in your head that everything about that sentence and the way you uttered it was unnatural. You haven’t called Jungkook ‘Jungkookie’ in literal years.

“Y/N?” Jeonghyun immediately asks, eyes wide. “Is that you?”

“Jeonghyun?” You ask in response. The boy doesn’t look like he’s changed one bit.

“You’re dating Y/N?” His mother realizes, clearly elated. “As in, little Y/N who teased you for falling into the mud as children?”

“Eomma,” Jungkook whines.

“Nice to see you,” you greet, holding out a hand. Jungkook’s mother completely disregards it and pulls you in for a hug. When she finally lets go, his father does the same.

“It’s been so long, Y/N! Look how grown-up you look! Very pretty,” his mother compliments.

His father lightly slaps Jeongguk on the shoulder. “You should have told us you started dating! We would’ve come down sooner.”

Jungkook meets eyes with you, and you know that that’s exactly why he didn’t bring it up. Jungkook loves his parents, he really does, but sometimes they can be a bit overbearing.

“It’s good to see you, Y/N,” Jeonghyun says, his outstretched hand as stiff as the rest of his body. “Should we let bygones be bygones?”

“It’s been years, Jeonghyun,” you reply, shaking his hand firmly. “You and I have no reason to hate each other anymore.”

“Oh!” His mother exclaims, wrapping an arm around your shoulder and leading you from the doorway. “Tell me, Y/N, is Jungkook treating you well? He’s very picky, sometimes. He won’t eat zucchini, did you know that?”

Jungkook looks helpless as he watches you get dragged away by his mother, and you shrug, letting him know that you’re fine.

“Jungkook is treating me perfectly,” you assure his mother. “It’s almost as though it’s not even real.”

Sometimes, you’re glad Jungkook can’t hear what you have to say. He won’t be able to hear the heartbreak in your voice, waiting to happen.

Jungkook’s family has long settled into their respective rooms within the next hour, and Jungkook’s finally gotten you away from the watch of his mother. The two of you are lounging around in his room, on his ottoman.

“Are you okay?” He asks, rubbing your shoulders. “You look tense.”

“I’m fine,” you promise. “No worries.”

“I’m worried about you, Y/N. You’re normally never this silent,” he says, concern lacing his eyes.He grabs your hand and rubs your thumb with his own. It’s so soothing, you almost forget the aura of falseness surrounding your every move.

“I’m okay, Jungkook. I’m just busy thinking, that’s all,” you swear, looking up into his deep brown eyes. They are beautiful and rich, and you can’t help but let yourself drown in them.

Just then, Jungkook pulls you towards him, his hand resting on your cheek, and presses his lips to yours.

The first thing you notice is that they’re chapped. The second thing you notice is this tingling feeling that tickles you as it dances across your skin. The third thing you notice is how your heartbeat has gotten unmistakably faster. This is no fireworks display, no electrifying spark. You had always imagined kissing Jungkook would feel like a supernova, a dramatic burst of stars within the galaxy, illuminating the night, but it’s far from it. Kissing Jungkook is like returning to your bed after months abroad, like revisiting your favorite childhood locations, like taking a bite of your most beloved dish. Kissing Jungkook feels like home in every sense of the word, because he is everything you love and everything you wish to come back to.

You break away before you allow yourself to become too consumed, because a single taste of his lips is all you need to become addicted. With burning cheeks and heavy breaths, the two of you gaze into each other’s eyes, like neither one of you were expecting that.

“Is this a bad time?” Jeonghyun’s voice asks from the doorway to Jungkook’s room, red in the face after interrupting what he thought was a moment. Only then do you realize that the kiss was nothing more than a show, a purposefully done act just to convince Jungkook’s family even further.

With the ghost of the feeling of his lips on yours, you break into the saddest smile you swear you’ve ever given and shake your head. “No, you haven’t disrupted anything.”

Dinner that night is a ruckus, to say the least. Between Jungkook, his mother, and his father scrambling around his kitchen to cook the meal and you and Jeonghyun fishing around the cabinets and closets in his dining room to set the table. It’s a group effort, really, and once dinner and all of its side dishes are on the table, it finally feels worth it.

You and Jungkook sit next to each other at his monster of a dining table, and even though no one’s watching the two of you, he holds your hand under the table.

“So, Jungkook,” his father begins heartily, his voice booming without even trying. “When did you start dating Y/N?”

“Um,” Jungkook says, looking towards you. Your eyes are wide, since neither of you discussed beforehand what your backstory would be. “A couple of months ago. I wanted to keep her out of the spotlight so I didn’t really say anything.”

“How’d you even fall for her anyway, Jungkook-ah? You kept telling us you’d never date someone while you were still in your prime,” Jeonghyun asks, his mouth full of seaweed.

You remember those days. Since Jungkook turned twenty, he’s refused to engage in a committed relationship. You’d often ask him why, and his simple answer was that he didn’t want to deal with the media nor did he want to be tied down. What made him change his mind?

It’s your turn to look towards him, see what he might say. He meets your eyes and takes a breath.

“I-I don’t know,” he stutters, the hand grasping yours getting tighter. “Y/N’s always been there for me. It wasn’t some noticeable event or anything, nothing I can recall. One day I just realized that I was irrevocably in love with her. I never knew why I didn’t see it before.”

You thought hearing the words coming out of his mouth might get you out of your facade, remind you that none of this is real and Jungkook’s just saying these things for his family, but when the words meet your ears, you can’t help but hear sincerity in them instead. You’re probably dreaming it, hoping for the words to be true so much that you’ve tricked your mind into thinking they are. But when he meets your eyes, looks into your eyes with those bright round moons of his, you can’t help but fall even harder.

“And you, Y/N?” His father notions towards towards you.

Oh God, where do you draw the line between what’s real and what’s fake?

“I don’t think I realized it until recently, but I’ve always been in love with Jungkook, from the moment we met as kids. I don’t think I could imagine a life without him by my side,” you say, hoping that the rawness that bleeds into your words filters out before Jungkook can think about them too hard. You place a hand on his soft cheek, rubbing it as his hands come up to meet yours. “He is my everything, my nebula and my supernova.”

Perhaps it’s better this way, if you’re honest now and a liar later. They say the best actors are the ones who feel like their character, because then you can’t tell where the actor ends and the character begins.

“I want to barf up this nice meal,” Jeonghyun says. “You two are disgusting.”

“Yah!” His mother chides. “They’re adorable. I’m so thrilled you finally worked up the nerve to start dating Y/N, Jungkook-ah.”

“Yeah,” he says, letting go of your hand. “It was a long time coming.”

You spend the rest of the dinner talking about other things, like Jungkook’s work and your education and things happening back home, in Busan. Jeonghyun is married now, the honeymoon phase having long worn off and left mutual respect and trust in its place. He says his wife is beautiful, smart, and demanding, but doesn’t look like he’s complaining.

It’s nice to hear what the Jeons are up to, what you’ve missed out on after not contacting them for so long. It feels like old times, when you would stay at Jungkook’s for dinner during secondary school and discuss his family affairs as though you were a part of them. Jungkook never held your hand back then. You wonder why he’s only starting now, if no one can see your interlocked fingers anyway.

Late at night, after his parents and brother have migrated to their respective guest rooms for the evening, you and Jungkook cruise around his penthouse before eventually coming to a stop in his room, where he closes the door. The moon is high in the sky at this hour, the light filtering in through the slits in his blinds and making patterns on his carpet.

“Good job today,” Jungkook congratulates you like an actor would congratulate a costar after a long day of working.

“Thanks,” you reply, indifferent, changing into your pajamas. “You too.”

“You really won them over with that galaxy shit,” Jungkook comments, as if you need further reminding that this entire setup is in fact, pretend. “I don’t think I’ve seen my mother swoon so hard since she met my dad.”

“Oh?” You ask, glad at least one person found sincerity in your sappy speech. “That’s good.”

“It was good. Even I wanted to shed a couple tears,” Jungkook chuckles, sliding out of his tee. “It sounded straight out of a movie.”

“What about yours?” You change the topic. If you have to keep listening to Jungkook applaud your entirely genuine confession as though it was some kind of act, you don’t know what you’ll do. “Yours was nice, too. Artsy for a boy who speaks the language of business.”

“You thought so? I made it up on the spot, I was under a lot of pressure,” Jungkook smiles, climbing into bed. “Couldn’t you tell?”

“You seemed fine to me,” you say truthfully. “Seemed pretty legit.”

“God, I hope so. I’m sorry about kissing you, earlier. Jeonghyun just seemed skeptical at first,” Jungkook apologizes, and you don’t know why your heart still falls from its cage in in your chest if you already knew the kiss was nothing more than for show.

“It’s fine. Feel free to do it again whenever necessary,” you say, trying to lighten the mood. “You’re a good kisser, you know. I could get used to it.”

“I’ll start kissing you more often, then. All the more for the act, right?”

“Yes, the act,” you agree, nodding your head. “It’s all an act.”

Once you return from his bathroom after washing up, you climb into the bed with him, the sheets warm from his body. His bed is large, too big for two people, let alone one, and even with the both of your bodies in it, you feel too far from him, like one more move and you’ll drift away. You slide in a little closer to him, hoping he won’t say anything. If he could just let you have this, this peace and quiet in a bed that feels like home because he’s here, then it’s enough.

Jungkook is facing away from you as he lies on his side, shirt off and back muscles visible. Before you know it, your eyes are falling shut, the day tiring on your mind and body. The last thing you see is Jungkook turning around to look you in your sleepy eyes, a fond smile growing on his lips as you lose consciousness.

You don’t know it, but Jungkook watches you after you fall asleep. Your hair falls in front of your face with a quick shake of your head, and he feels a compelling urge to move it from your cheek, his fingers brushing your skin. You look so innocent when you’re asleep, like your mind isn’t racing from one thing to another like it does when you’re awake. A small smile dances on your lips as you dream, and dream you may.

“I want you to know my confession today was real, Y/N,” Jungkook says softly, admiring your peaceful features. The words he utters are words he’s been hoping to tell you for years, but perhaps it’s better if you’re not awake to listen to them. Maybe they are words you shouldn’t hear. “I want you to know I love you, but sometimes we shouldn’t always get what we want.”

You could get used to waking up like this.

The light of the rising sun filters through the windows of Jungkook’s bedroom, shining on the bed where the two of you lie. It is quiet in his grand room, the only noise being the rustling of the sheets as Jungkook milks the last few minutes of his sleep cycle. Other than the sun, it is dark in the room, providing just the right amount of light for Jungkook to look ethereal, though it’s not as though he doesn’t look golden any other hour of the day.

You could get used to waking up like this, next to the boy you love in a bed that you could technically call yours. Jungkook’s still facing away towards you, his eyes barely closed and a dried path of drool marking his skin. At this hour, he looks like everything you’ve ever wanted.

You simply wait for him to get up, and for all you know, it could be hours later, but you lose track of time following the strands of his hair that hang over his eyes and the curve of his lips as he snores ever so lightly.

Eventually his eyes open, still hazy from sleep, and he smiles when he sees you gazing at him.

“Creep,” he says, but you can only pinpoint fondness in his words. “Staring at me sleeping.”

“It’s the one time I can catch you not saying any sort of dumb shit,” you joke back, ruffling his hair.

Jungkook pretends to be affronted as he sits up in his bed, wiping the spit from the side of his mouth. “I’m insulted. Sometimes I can be intelligent.”

“Sometimes,” you say, getting out of bed. “What are we doing today?”

“Lounging around at home, I guess?” The boy shrugs. “I don’t have anything planned, but count on my parents to drag us out somewhere.”

“That’d be cute,” you say, not opposed to the idea.

“I know, I just hope it’s somewhere inside. My rhinitis gets aggravated when I spend too much time around flowers,” Jungkook says.

You beam at him, blinking your eyes innocently as you lean over his bed towards him. “Is that why you’re always sniffling around me?”

He scrunches up his nose in response, pushing you away as you burst into laughter. “Don’t flatter yourself, Y/N.”

“Oh, you love me and my flowery ways,” you tease.

“That I do,” Jungkook agrees as he shuffles through his walk-in closet for something to wear. A single glimpse and you can see the wall of white tees that he hoards, something you will never fucking understand. “We’d be so domestic if we stayed in today, like a true millennial couple.”

“Truly.”

The both of you pull on things that aren’t pajamas before emerging from your cozy cave. No one else is awake yet, meaning the two of you get first dibs on breakfast.

“Corn flakes again, you boring piece of shit?” You ask as you make your way to his designated cereal cupboard.

Jungkook sneers at you from across the room, where he’s made quite the dent in the cushions of his pristine couch. “Very funny.”

He gets up to join you in the kitchen as the two of you hunt for something to eat.

“Pancakes?”

“I don’t have any eggs,” he admits, making you scoff.

“What kind of multimillionaire doesn’t have any eggs?” You ask rhetorically, in disbelief. How does this boy sustain himself?

“I haven’t been shopping in a while!” He exclaims defensively. “There! That can be what we do today. Let’s go shopping.”

“Like a true domestic couple,” you say as you pick up the most bruised banana you have ever seen, and take a bite of it anyway. Jungkook truly has no breakfast food, other than the leftover sticky rice from last night.

The rice seems to be on Jungkook’s mind as well, as he fishes through his industrial-sized fridge for the pot with the plastic wrap over it.

“Here, let’s finish this,” he suggests, placing the pot on the counter and grabbing two dishes. “Then we can go shopping.”

Jungkook eats his rice quickly, encouraging you to do the same so the both of you can go shopping before his mother chides him for having no food in his expensive penthouse. The both of you are out on the streets of Seoul by nine, where the sidewalks have emptied after the school and work morning rush. Jungkook keeps your hand firmly in his as he speeds down the pavement to the nearest grocery store, a simple market on the corner of a road, unaffiliated with the wealthy people who live in the buildings nearby.

“Those reporters are going to have an aneurysm,” Jungkook comments as a flash of light goes off to his left. “Jeon Jungkook, millionaire, goes grocery shopping with girlfriend. Has the world ended?”

Once you’re inside the quaint place, the two of you walk around, holding up different food and asking the other if it’s necessary.

“You can get whatever you want, you know,” Jungkook reminds you as he stares at the shelves lined with cereal. “I don’t have much of a budget.”

“But we can’t just lie around eating corn flakes and chips all day,” you whine as you pluck your favorite, interesting cereal from the shelf and place it in the cart.

“You sound like my mother,” Jungkook complains.

The two of you spend a good five minutes arguing about brown sugar versus white sugar, because Jungkook doesn’t seem to know the difference, and doesn’t understand why you can’t just use white sugar for everything.

“Brown sugar has health benefits! It’s not as bad for you,” you insist, shaking the bag of brown sugar in front of Jungkook’s face.

“But all sugar’s bad for you! You’re just telling me that brown sugar has less bang for your buck. Who wants that?” He criticizes. “If we’re going to be unhealthy, we might as well just go all the way!”

“The point of brown sugar is its health, you dumbass!” You exclaim.

“Why don’t we just get both, then?” He sighs as he grabs the packet from your hand and places it, along with the packet he holds in his, in the cart. “Problem solved.”

An old lady passes by the two of you as you both sneer at each other, still disagreeing. She chuckles as she walks by, stopping her cart beside yours.

“The both of you are so sweet,” she comments. “You remind me of my husband and I, when we were young like you. How long have you been together?”

“Oh, we’re not—” You begin, but Jungkook cuts you off.

“A couple of months,” he says, pecking your cheek. The faint touch of his lips leave a tingling sensation behind as you shiver.

“You seem very infatuated, the two of you,” she says, smiling. “Young love is inspiring to the world.”

She keeps going, nodding her head goodbye as she leaves the two of you and your sugar debate.

“What was that for?” You hiss as the two of you make your way down the next aisle. “She doesn’t need to know that we’re dating.”

“Sure she does,” Jungkook says, shrugging. “What’s wrong with showing the world how happy I am with you?”

Jungkook’s family leave the following afternoon, bidding farewell to the two of you as they usher their suitcases out of his doorway.

“You did well, kid,” you hear his father say as he pulls Jungkook in for a side-hug. “You keep doing well.”

“Yes, appa,” Jungkook says.

“Don’t let that girl go,” he advises as you wave an amicable goodbye to Jeonghyun, whom you hope you can get closer. “She loves you, Jungkook.”

“I know,” Jungkook says, and you don’t think he really does.

“Y/N?” His mother asks, placing a soft hand on your shoulder. You turn around to see her small frame, and hum in interest. “Can I speak to you?”

“Sure,” you say, letting her walk you away from the herd at the door.

“I want to thank you,” his mother says.

“Really? It wasn’t a problem, hosting you—”

“No,” she interrupts. “Not for that. I want to thank you for teaching Jungkook what it’s like to fall in love.”

“Oh,” you say, embarrassed. With every word uttered from his parents’ mouths, you feel worse and worse about lying to them.

“Ever since he was little, it was his education first, then his business, and I was so worried that all he would ever be was a businessman, but you’ve changed him. I’ve never seen him so absorbed in someone before,” his mother says, and you wonder how good Jungkook’s acting skills really are if his mother was fooled that badly. “He really loves you, Y/N. I’m sure you already know that, but I don’t want you to forget it. One day you might fall out of love, but cherish these moments that you have with him.”

“I will,” you nod, smiling. You do cherish these moments, these brief few weeks in the span of your lifetimes where for once, you don’t have to pretend like you’re not in love with the boy.

The next week is when Jungkook’s infamous business parties begin, the ones that require you to look your absolute finest as you walk around in pinchy heels with thin glasses of champagne that you won’t drink.

Jungkook seems noticeably more stressed about these gathering than when his family came over, getting more tense as he goes through his countless suits to find the right one, stretching out his ties from the pressure.

“You okay, babe?” you ask as you come up behind him as he’s squeezing the life out of some dress pants. Tonight is the first one, and you’ve just emerged from the shower, wrapped in a towel.

Jungkook turns around to meet you, taking in a sharp inhale when he sees you in nothing but a towel. Of course. “Yeah, I’m fine, why?”

“You seem uptight,” you say. “Nervous?”

“A little,” he admits. “I’m worried people will see right through us. The people at these parties have status, wealth, connections. If we look fake, then they’ll be able to tell.”

“We had your parents fooled,” you assure him, rubbing his back to relax his muscles. “Come on, big guy. You know you got it. You play around with the media once every week. This should be no different.”

“You’re right,” he finally says, feeling a bit better. “I’m gonna go get ready.”

“Look at you go,” you cheer him on.

If Jungkook looks good in a bland, white tee, he looks breathtaking in a sleek black suit, hair brushed messily in front of his forehead and a gleaming silver watch on his wrist. He looks so unbelievably professional, the sight making your breath hitch in your throat as you open the door to the bathroom and see him pacing up and down the hallway.

“Are you ready? I don’t want to be too late,” Jungkook asks, getting a bit antsy.

“Almost, I just need to grab my bag and put on my shoes,” you say, looking down at your dress. You have a slight stain from an orange that you were snacking on earlier, but it’s hardly noticeable and nothing the Tide-to-go pen can’t fix.

You open the door all the way, decked out in the dress you fell in love with in the store a week or so ago, and Jungkook stops in his tracks.

“Can you see the stain?” You ask, eyes widening as you fumble around the dress for a way to disguise it.

“You look beautiful,” Jungkook says, making you pause. “Mind-blowingly beautiful.”

Jungkook doesn’t say anything after that, waiting for you to step out of the bathroom completely before grabbing a hold of your waist and pressing you against the wall, making you gasp in surprise.

“Jungkook?”

“You are stunning,” he mutters, pressing in closer. “Gorgeous.”

He doesn’t give you a chance to reply as he leans in to kiss you. It takes you aback but you gladly welcome his touch, relishing in the feeling of his lips on yours. He smiles against your lips, his cheeks warm and his eyes bright, and your heart bursts at the sight of him, against you, loving you.

“You’re really milking this whole fake relationship thing, aren’t you, Jeon?” You ask as you push him away before the stain sets in your dress.

“You’re beautiful,” Jungkook repeats, like a mantra. “The fake relationship thing just lets me show that I think that through kissing instead of insults.”

“I’m touched,” you say as you place a hand over your heart.

“We should go,” he says, “Whenever you’re ready?”

“I’ll be good in like two minutes, relax, hey babe?” You raise your eyebrows, rubbing his shoulders. You shuffle around his penthouse one last time, grabbing your bag and rubbing your to-go pen on that little spot before meeting him at the door, where you slide into the heels he bought.

Jungkook is the talk of the fucking town, him and his millionaire status, and the limo he’s rented to take the both of you to whatever high-end country club you’re visiting is simply evidence of that. When you pull up to the joint and he emerges from the shining black car, people whisper, but when he opens the door for you to step out, people talk.

“They love you,” he whispers as you link arms. He guides you towards the center of the room. Around you are stars, business moguls, celebrities, people you see in magazines and in the headlines of articles. Jungkook can see your hesitance to be so close to people like him, rich and famous and beautiful. “Stay close to me, alright?”

You nod as he leads you around, saying hello to old business partners and friends of his as they talk like buddies, hugging and patting each other on the back. You keep quiet, under immense pressure to look as fabulous as the rest of the people there, graciously accepting the little sandwiches and champagne the waiters scurrying around offer you on silver trays. You feel so out of place at an event like this, where you can’t make jokes at your own expense or spill things on yourself.

Everywhere you go, you notice people talking about you, whispering to their friends and their partners as they point to the both of you, and it freaks you out.

“Why do they keep talking about us?” You hiss into Jungkook’s ear as he takes an elaborate fruit skewer from a caterer.

“You’re the most beautiful girl here,” he says back. “Why wouldn’t they?”

At one point, you lose Jungkook in the crowd that just seems to get bigger, getting left alone at a table as you let your poor feet rest. You eventually spot the tuft of his familiar black hair as he filters around, jumping from person to person. It seems like he knows everyone here, or at least, everyone here knows him.

A man sits across from you at the round table, holding up his half-full champagne glass in your direction.

“You came here with Jungkook, correct?” The man asks.

You nod.

“I’m Taehyung, a friend of his. You are?”

“Y/N,” you say quickly, the conversation stressing you out. You hate feeling so out of place.

“It’s nice to meet you. Are you looking for Jungkook?”

“No, I know where he is,” you assure him. “I just wanted to sit down.”

“It’s tiring, walking around and trying to fit in, isn’t it?” Taehyung says, making you turn your head sharply towards him. He chuckles. “Trust me, I know how you feel. You did look a bit lost.”

“Is it that obvious?”

“Not when everyone’s looking at your dress and not at you,” Taehyung says, offering some sort of consolation. “These people can smell fear, but they’re addicted to beauty, so you have nothing to worry about.”

“I’m just on edge, you know?” You say, exhaling as you take a sip of your champagne, the taste burning your throat as you down it.

“No one’s going to do anything. They can all see how infatuated the two of you are with each other, clinging to each other like koalas,” Taehyung says, making you sigh a breath of relief. At least the people here believe the act as well. “It’s nice to see Jungkook like this. It keeps him grounded, you being here. He has someone to hold onto, someone to love.”

Just then is when Jungkook approaches you, sitting down in the seat next to you and chugging his champagne in a single shot. “Taehyung?”

“Nice to see you again, Jungkook-ah,” Taehyung smiles towards the boy.

Jungkook smiles back. “You too, hyung.”

“I was just talking with Y/N, here. She was worried without you.” Taehyung motions his head towards you and Jungkook turns, wrapping an arm around your shoulder.

“Sorry, babe,” he says, lightly pressing a kiss to your cheek. “I’ll bring you around next time.”

“These heels are fucking murder,” you mutter, tugging the back edge of them off your feet for some relief. “How do people stand in them all day?”

“You’re just not used to the heels life,” Jungkook jokes. “You live in sneakers.”

“This is reminding me why I do,” you groan.

Taehyung bows out, waving goodbye to the two of you as he goes off to mingle elsewhere. Jungkook lets go of your shoulder.

“What was that all about?”

“I dunno, he just started talking to me,” you say, shrugging. “He seems like a nice guy.”

“He is, he’s just normally not so upfront like that. Did he pull anything on you?”

You laugh at Jungkook’s concern, shaking your head. “No, he didn’t. You don’t need to be so stressed about that. Taehyung was telling me, everyone knows that we’re dating.”

“Of course they do, the media says it all. I’m just worried they think it’s all for show,” Jungkook says.

“We had Taehyung fooled,” you assure the boy, smoothing out the wrinkles beginning to form in his suit jacket.

“One down, dozens to go,” he beams towards you, standing up from his seat and holding out a hand for you to take. You interlock fingers with him, and he pulls you up, ready to face whoever else wants to speak with the both of you.

Eventually, as the night turns into early morning, you make your way onto some sort of balcony, gazing into the stars.

“Did you enjoy this?” He asks without looking at you, his shoulder leaning against yours.

“The food was nice,” you reply, distant.

“But did you like walking around and talking to people?”

“It was fine.”

“Just ‘fine’?”

“My feet are killing me, but the people here aren’t bad people. Just not for me,” you say, shrugging. “I much prefer looking out into the stars than being inside, listening to rich people complain about rich people things.”

“It’s peaceful out here, isn’t it? Just us and the stars,” Jungkook asks. “You did great today, though, if it’s any consolation. Remind me to pay you when we get home.”

Right, the payment. The foundation to your fake relationship. It was the reason you accepted this in the first place, right?

“No need for payment,” you say, shaking your head.

“But surely there must be something you want, eh? A new dress for the next event, concert tickets, the like? I can get you anything you want,” Jungkook asks, adamant on rewarding you for your work. All of this feels like such bullshit.

The champagne buzzes in your system. The glass door to the balcony opens, and you know someone’s watching you now. You turn to Jungkook, who’s looking at you lost and confused, like he doesn’t know why you won’t accept a gift from him in return for your fucking presence, but he is better than any gift you could get.

“I just want you,” you breathe, the alcohol making you sound more desperate than you want to appear. You’re not drunk, just buzzed, and Jungkook is the most beautiful person you’ve ever seen. “You are all I need.”

Those words are all it takes for your reserve to break and you meet his surprised eyes with a kiss, wrapping your arms around his neck. He parts his lips, allowing you entrance, pressing deeper, deeper, pulling him in closer, closer.

“I don’t want to look at the stars anymore, Jungkook,” you whisper into his open mouth as he catches his breath. There’s no need to wish on things so far away when there are stars decorating his pupils instead. “I want to go home.”

Home you go. Jungkook barely has enough time to shut the door behind you before you’re pressing into him again, desperate for another kiss. You know you’ll never be brave enough to do this again, so you take the chance that he’s giving you, holding on for dear life.

He begins to take over, swiping his tongue over your bottom lip to gain access to your mouth. He’s leaning into you with his whole body, not just his lips, running his hands along the sides of your figure as he sighs over and over again. Jungkook leaves your parted lips with a heavy breath before moving onto your ear, nibbling at the edge playfully, making you laugh, then your chin, neck, collarbones, pressing kisses onto every peek of skin he sees, like he can’t get enough.

You inevitably stumble into his bedroom, still fully clothed, but fall onto his bed with a soft thud, making you jump before you pull him in closer, your back to the sheets with him looming over you, lips still tugging at a spot right below your neck.

“This wasn’t in the deal,” you joke, though now isn’t the best time to remind him that your entire relationship is a game of make-believe.

“Do you want to stop?” He breathes back.

“Never,” you whisper, and it’s all he needs for him to dive right back in.

You yank on his suit jacket, not-so-subtly hinting to him that you want it off, and off it goes as Jungkook removes it in a fluid motion and flings it across the room, wasting no time away from your soft lips or warm skin. He can’t help but move his hands all around your body, your thighs, hips, waist, shoulders. He drags his fingers over them lightly, making you giggle from the ticklish sensation as he presses his lips everywhere he can, everywhere he wants to.

“Are you sure you’re sober enough for this?” He asks, just to double check as the two of you sit up and you begin to unzip yourself out of this fabric prison. “I don’t want you to regret this.”

“How could I ever regret you?” You counter, letting the straps of the dress fall from your shoulders to reveal your relatively drab bra. You can’t say you were very prepared for this. “I want you, hey? Do you want me?”

Jungkook’s mouth drops as the top half of your dress falls from your body, piling at your hips. “Ever since this evening, I’ve wanted you. Please.”

He whispers his desires into your skin and breathes his lust into your parted lips, hopes that you can hear the way he wants you from the sound of his fingers as they dance along your body, from head to toe. There is no tomorrow, no yesterday. There is only now, and now is right here, his body pressed against yours.

He may not love you but he may love the feeling of you, and in your hazy, desperate state, that is all you need. That even just a toe in the water is better than nothing at all.

When you’re all cleaned up and tired out a few minutes later, he wraps his arms around your own and tugs you in for a post-sex cuddle in his bed, the sheets cold but his body warm.

“How was that?” He whispers, the sleep evident in his voice.

“Like a dream,” you reply, hazy.

“I promise that it wasn’t,” he says before rolling over, a marker that he’s about to crash.

Some days, like today, you wish that it was. Maybe that way, you won’t be as heartbroken when it ends.

It seems like Jungkook’s business parties never stop. They are endless, a new one to attend to every day. Each morning, when you are awake but he is not, his phone will buzz with a new notification, a reminder from his calendar that he has So-and-So’s gala tonight, or What’s-His-Face’s celebration. You royally underestimated how many events Jungkook had planned for the duration of your stay with him, assuming you would spend the several days in between each one doing fun couple-y things. Instead, every day is a rinse and repeat cycle of getting ready to go out for the evening.

Jungkook takes you shopping on the one free day he has in between gatherings, his reasoning being ‘Rich people and their significant others don’t wear the same thing twice’, easily one of the most pretentious things you’ve ever heard come out of his mouth. You feel like you’re constantly about to attend an awards ceremony with the dresses the two of you pick out together, fancy clothes by fancy designers that people will judge you for wearing. If this were a movie, you’d be thrilled, flaunting the fifteen shopping bags hanging from your arms, but this is no movie, and these bags are heavier than they look.

“God, why is being a rich person so tiring?” You sigh as you collapse onto the couch when you finally return to his penthouse, letting the bags drop from your arms onto the floor beside you.

Jungkook is in the kitchen, grabbing a glass of water. “Now you know it’s not all cameras and money.”

“It still is, don’t you think? It’s just, cameras and money but more in-depth. There’s a lot of shit that goes behind the cameras and money.”

“Fair point,” he reasons, joining you on the opposing couch, letting his feet rest on the glass coffee table in front of him.

“Do you ever get sick of this life?” You wonder aloud.

“Sometimes. Some days, when the cameras and money are too much for my mere twenty-year-old self to handle, I wish we could go back in time. To high school, maybe. When my only responsibilities were maintaining my schoolwork and I had time to lounge around in unpresentable clothing and play videogames.”

“High school you was the worst,” you joke. “You were so unbearable.”

“I wish we could go back time just so I could stop being ‘the worst’,” Jungkook laughs. “Seriously, I wish we could go back. That nostalgic shit, you know? It’s meaningful. High school was my first time for a lot of things. First fight, first kiss, first love.”

“First love?” You ask, curious. You sit up from where you lie on the couch, meeting Jungkook’s eyes. They are wide when they gaze into yours, as if Jungkook said something he didn’t mean to say. “Who?”

“Oh, um, just some girl from chem,” he says, scratching the nape of his neck.

“We were in the same chem class, who was it?”

“Dahyun,” Jungkook spits out, like he’s on edge. “Remember Dahyun?”

“Oh, the one with the dyed ends. Yeah, I remember her,” you say, recalling the bubbly girl that sat in the front of the class. She was always talking, but never in an annoying way. “You fell in love with her?”

Jungkook’s expression softens as he moves his eyes from yours to his hands, thumbs twiddling in his lap. “Yeah, I fell in love.”

To say that you and Jungkook stopped having sex after that first business party would be a complete lie. It appears to be a ritual now, by the fourth business gala, for the two of you to end up leaving early, pressing each other against the wall with breathy moans in each other’s ears. You can’t say it’s the most healthy of options for your emotional state, but how can you resist him?

Every night, you find yourself getting closer and closer to confessing, to revealing everything felt for him, feel for him, will feel for him. But you bite your lip each time, keeping the words from spilling out as the two of you fuck, because it’s not really making love if only one of you is in love.

Jungkook’s a heavy sleeper, but even heavier after a hearty night of sex, and it’s the perfect time for you to tell him, when he can’t hear you.

“I love you,” you whisper, wrapping your arms around his bare torso and pulling yourself closer to his body. “I love all of you, every piece of you.”

This is how it is, this is how your life is. The two of you will bounce around his apartment when you’re getting ready, grabbing his kitchenware and playing knights and princesses, like you did when you were little. That nostalgia truly is meaningful, you realize, wishing to remain in it without having to return to the troubles of the present.

His final business party rolls around on a gloomy Saturday evening, the clouds covering the stars you can barely see from the city of Seoul anyway. The weather knows you, you think as you prepare yourself for the last night you will ever spend with the boy in his penthouse as a girlfriend, as a lover.

Jungkook knows this too, but his resolve is strong and words even stronger.

“Don’t forget, I’m driving you back home tomorrow,” he says as you pluck the final dress you will wear from the rack. He’s walking around his bedroom, picking up any clothes on the floor that belong to you and placing them into your suitcase. “What time do you need to be home?”

“Wendy’s welcoming me back for dinner, so anytime before then,” you answer, indifferent. Jungkook always does such a good job of reminding you that what you have with him isn’t real.

The night begins just like every other one. As per usual, the two of you are leaving things until the last minute, especially your packing. You’re resisting the need to pack your belongings into your lone suitcase so you’re ready to leave tomorrow, acting as though you’ve forgotten about it entirely as you scurry around his apartment trying to get ready. Every time you pop into your bedroom to grab something, Jungkook is moving around, picking up any clothing items that belong to you and placing them gently in your suitcase. You don’t want to leave, but he wants nothing more than that.

The dress you’re wearing tonight is black. You joke that it’s to mourn the end of your fake relationship, but it’s the closing screen to this three week period of nothing more than a facade, a facade you fell for anyway. Somehow, throughout these weeks, all you’ve managed to do is fall for Jungkook harder, even though you knew the affections he displayed towards you were fake. A royal fuckup, in your opinion.

Jungkook looks like a damn prince in his getup today, a white suit accented with black to complement your own outfit, and it’s both a blessing and a curse that he looks so fucking good on the last night you will spend together like this.

“Ready to put on one final show?” He asks, holding out his arm for you to link yours with as you emerge in your silky black dress and kitten heels.

Lights,

Camera,

Action.

The sole thing that distinguishes this particular gala from the dozen others you attended is its location, a primo hotel with a ballroom, something reminiscent of a castle. You have to admit, it’s the nicest one you’ve attended so far, elegant and fancy without being over-the-top.

At this point, you’re used to walking around with Jungkook, used to people saying your name and greeting you like old friends. You’re known now, thanks to Jungkook and his many parties, top stars and business moguls recognizing you from prior engagements or even magazine articles.

“Look at you go, queen of the night,” Jungkook beams as he drags you away from another company acquaintance, one you had a nice conversation with. Namjoon, his name was.

“Please, you’re the royal one here,” you say back.

Jungkook shrugs, taking a sip of his champagne, still sparkling in its glass. “Guess that makes us the king and queen, eh?”

King and queen is right. Halfway through the night, the ballroom opens, leaving the floor empty and free for anybody who wishes to let loose. Neither you nor Jungkook are the dancing type, but the two of you suppose that on your last night, you can afford to have a little fun, scooting into the edge of the open space and lightly dancing. Jungkook might be flawless when it comes to business offers, but he is less-than-flawless when it comes to unchoreographed dance. The two of you stick to the side, allowing more confident, better dancers to occupy the center.

A slow song comes on. You feel like you’re in high school, only it’s no sappy love song, no, it’s the waltz. The fucking waltz. And it just so happens that during this waltz, you and Jungkook are pushed into the center of the crowd, forced to dance.

“I’ve never waltzed before,” you chuckle as Jungkook places a hand on your waist.

“Me neither,” he replies, taking your hand in his and holding it out like everyone else is. “Let’s wing it.”

It’s as if time stops completely. Suddenly, you forget that you’re in a crowded hotel ballroom, surrounded by people who will be earn more money in a day than you will in your entire life. Suddenly the herd phases out, turning into a blur, and all you can see clearly is Jungkook in front of you. Jungkook, who is holding your hand and your waist and gazing at you and fucking waltzing with you. The night is upon the ballroom, the light of the moon barely illuminating the room. One more step and Jungkook is in perfect alignment with a window, glowing in the moonlight.

It’s your last night, isn’t it? Last night of this, of looking at Jungkook like this and failing miserably at your plan to try and not fall in love with him, and so you do what you feel like you must.

At first, Jungkook doesn’t react. Perhaps he’s too absorbed in the placement of your feet, or your position in the crowd, but he soon comes to when he realizes your lips are on his, humming delightedly in response as he presses back.

As cheesy as it sounds, this kiss is nothing like your other ones. There is nobody watching, nothing to prove anything to. In this moment, you are simply in love, and that’s the feeling that the kiss delivers.

Love.

It’s a silent confession, almost.

No heavy breaths after this kiss. The two of you break apart, barely noticed by anyone around you, your bodies dancing without the two of you thinking about it. You’ve moved just enough to be in front of the window, the moonlight making your eyes glossy. Jungkook’s eyes are blown wide, his mouth red but not swollen.

“What was that for?” He whispers, leaning in to your ear.

In that moment, you respond with the only words that come into your mind. “You are kissable always, but especially so in the light of the moon.”

The waltz ends, and Jungkook leads the two of you away from the center of the ballroom hastily.

It’s a silent confession, but almost is never enough.

Jungkook is silent the entire limo ride home, and you wish he would tell you why. He isn’t necessarily annoyed or angry with you, but he is distant, cold, exactly the man the media paints him to be. You bombard him with sentences that demand a response the entire way home, until the two of you end up in his penthouse once again.

“Jungkook, listen, if this is about the kiss then I can explain—” you begin, following him after he storms off the second the two of you walk in the door.

Jungkook stays mute, making a beeline for where his wallet and checkbook lie, strewn over the kitchen counter.

“I still need to pay you for your work,” he spits out quickly. You catch up to him just as he’s scribbling out a hefty check for you. “We’re finished here.”

“Jungkook—”

“I do hope this check is satisfactory — I tried to stay consistent with the other payments I’ve—”

“Enough with the fucking payments!”

Jungkook finally makes eye contact with you, a little jarred after hearing you shout so crassly. “Then… how about a car? Or clothes? Jewelry? What else would you want?”

“You!” You shriek, breaking the dead silence as the word resonates around you. Your voice is softer, now. Sadder. “I want you, Jungkook. Can’t you tell? I don’t want a house, or a car, or clothes, just you. I just want you.”

Admittedly, this is not the confession you were hoping for.

Jungkook is floored. His checkbook has dropped from his hands to the counter, empty checks crinkled. He’s looking at you like he’s desperate for you to say something else. “Me?”

“I have to admit, I never really imagined that I’d tell you like this, but I guess I am,” you try to joke, your eyes getting increasingly watery. “I’m in love with you, Jungkook. I’m so fucking in love with you.”

You see the panic as it grows on Jungkook’s face, how his expression morphs from surprise to worry, and this, this is exactly why you should have just kept your goddamn mouth shut.

“But how can you be, Y/N? That wasn’t part of the deal. What we have, what this is,” he says, motioning between the two of you, “isn’t real. You and I, we’re just pretenders. We aren’t real.”

“But I was hoping we could be!” You exclaim, letting your tears fall freely down your cheeks, leaving ugly patches in your makeup. Perhaps, if Jungkook has seen you at your best, he should also see you at your worst. “Can’t you see? Everything I did with you, the kissing and the hand holding and that fucking confession with your parents, it was real, my love for you is real, and I thought maybe we could be real too, but I-I guess not.”

You make to wipe the tears from your eyes, hoping to sooth yourself through this conversation, but you change your mind at the last second, leaving the tears dripping from your cheeks to your dress.

“Y/N,” Jungkook begins, wary of what to say. You already know what’s about to come out of his mouth. “You don’t understand. I just—”

“You just what, Jungkook? You just what?” You ask, your sobs nearly turning into laughter in some sickeningly sad sort of way. “You don’t need to tell me twice, Jungkook. I know how you feel about me. We’re just friends, that sex we had, it was just for these few weeks, it didn’t mean anything. Don’t think I didn’t notice how you never forgot to pay me, always reminded me that what we were doing was fake, make-believe. I know you Jungkook, I know you don’t love me and I don’t know why I expected otherwise, but I did. And here we are.”

“Y/N, that’s not what I meant,” Jungkook says, desperate for your to hear him out. “I didn’t know—”

“I know you didn’t, Jungkook, but you didn’t need to. I have all of the information I need,” you say. “I don’t blame you for not loving me, Jungkook. I just… I wish you would have told me, so I wouldn’t have had to play this fucking game with you.”

The light in his hallway isn’t turned on but it doesn’t need to be, not as you walk through it, hiccuping down your sobs as you come to your room, his room. Anything within eyesight that you know belongs to you you pack, carelessly throwing it in your suitcase as you begin to remove yourself from his apartment. You’re almost out of his room once and for all when you eye the dresses laid out on his comforter, each of them gently placed over the previous.

You leave his room in pajamas.

Jungkook hasn’t budged. He’s glued to the floor by the kitchen counter, his checkbook still astray, and he’s looking down. When he hears your suitcase hit the hardwood, he looks up.

“I know we said tomorrow morning, but I don’t think I can stay here for one more night,” you tell him. “I’m sorry, Jungkook.”

The boy is silent.

As you reach the door, you turn around a final time, at exactly the same moment he looks up at you. Is that sadness you see? Regret?

Your hand lingers over the doorknob, hesitant. Perhaps he will say something, anything. If he could just… say something, you’d stay. If.

If.

If he says nothing, you will leave.

A tear rolls down Jungkook’s cheek.

You open the door.

You say that Jungkook needs a few days to calm down, but Wendy says that Jungkook is a “piece of shit who, if he really loved you, would try to get you back the second he lost you”, and perhaps the worst part of that is the fact that both are probably correct. You’ve cried already, let your tears out in the comfort of your own pillow as Wendy pops in every hour with a new bucket of ice cream or frosting and the like, and Jungkook has made no attempt to bridge the ever-growing gap between the two of you. Wendy, the most fiercely loyal friend you have, will, at times, snoop the media for any news on him. All she can find are question marks on your relationship.

A month drags by, duller without Jungkook’s beautifully wispy smile lighting it up, but not emptier. The local museum has employed you, finding great use for your historical expertise with its artifacts and paintings. You never realized it, but staring at ancient pots and fading paintings, trying to make sense of them, is your favorite pastime. The memories of your time with him, shopping bags and movie tickets and name cards, they are hidden in a shoebox at the bottom of your closet, merely a touch away.

“Don’t you miss him?” Wendy asks one day as the two of you eat dinner.

“Miss him?”

Every day, you think.

“Sometimes,” you reply. “It’s hard to think about him these days.”

“It’s been a month.”

“A month too long.”

Wendy reaches a hand out, holding onto your wrist as she rub it with her thumb.

“I can’t look at him without the memories of that final night, the checkbook falling to the counter, his eyes blown wide. Bad memories always outweigh the good ones.”

“But surely, that could be considered a good memory?”

You laugh out loud. “How on earth could that be a good memory? He rejected me.”

“You confessed that night,” Wendy reminds you softly. “He knows, now.”

“But does he care?”

Wendy slides an envelope over to you, her name neatly printed on the back. At the top corner lies the return stamp, JEON JUNGKOOK lining the top row. “You tell me.”

You wonder if you’re on the list this time. You walk into his building, people in suits and pencil skirts scurrying around with books and folders and papers, bustling like worker bees. There’s a different lady at the front desk, but her hair slicked back and her collar sharp, all the same.

“Name?”

“Y/N,” you reply, leaning over the desk to get a glimpse of what she’s searching up.

“You’re on the list. Is it urgent?” She responds swiftly. This feels different.

“Is he busy?”

“His lunch break is in a few minutes,” the lady informs you.

“Can I go up?”

“Sure. I’ll tell his security personnel.”

As you make your way to the elevator, the lady picks up the phone and balances it on her shoulder as she types.

Jungkook doesn’t know you’re coming this time, and you’re hoping the element of surprise will be beneficial to your cause. It’s been a month, and Jungkook’s not only disappeared from the media, he’s disappeared from your life. If he won’t make a move, then you have to.

“Name?” The security guard grunts when he sees you approaching. There’s only one next to his door this time.

“Y/N,” you respond.

“There’s no Y/N on our list, Miss, so unfortunately—”

The other one comes jogging around the corner, slightly out of breath despite the fact that he’s incredibly buff. “They just let a girl up,” he says before making eye contact with you. “Oh. Well, she’s on the list now.”

“Really?” The first guard asks, eyebrows raised. “Alright Miss, go on in.”

The man opens the sleek wooden door, allowing you to slowly step in. Jungkook’s facing away from the door, his office chair spun around as he lectures somebody on the phone while staring out the window. You don’t know how to get his attention. Perhaps, if you run now, he’ll never even notice you were in here.

You continue to move forwards, trying to keep your footsteps quiet as you approach the couch you’ve collapsed on so many times. As Jungkook speaks, you can hear the exhaustion, the tension in his voice. He never used to sound like that.

This time, when you sit down, you sit up straight and on the edge of the seat, anxious for what will happen when Jungkook turns around.

It’s strange, being in here again, reminiscing of when you came for him to ask you the favor that began this mess. So many things are the same, yet so many things are different.

“Hold on, I’m getting another call,” Jungkook sighs, and you tense up, thinking he’s going to turn around. He doesn’t, merely takes the phone away from his ear for a few seconds before returning it. “Hello? Wait, another client? Right now? God, alright.”

You wonder who Jungkook may be talking about when the office chair rotates, leaving you face-to-face with Jungkook himself, the phone still held up to his ear.

It drops to the floor. “Y/N?”

“Hi, Jungkook,” you say, avoiding his gaze.

“What-What are you doing here?”

“Why do you think I’m here, Jungkook?” You ask sadly.

Jungkook purses his lips. “I have things to say, too.”

“Would you like to say them to me now or should we go out for lunch first?” You joke, smiling nostalgically.

Jungkook chuckles as he stands up, grabbing his suit jacket from where it’s draped over his chair. “Let’s go out to eat. There’s this great Italian place that opened up a while ago in Gangnam.”

“Sounds great.”

Once there, it seems that neither of you know exactly what you’d like to say, keeping the conversation limited to the menu and the weather. The tension is thick in between the two of you, settling on the table like dust.

“I finished the brown sugar,” Jungkook blurts midway through your meal. “I used it all up in my tea.”

“Did you like it?”

“I felt healthier,” he says.

“That was the goal,” you say. “You know, when we bought it.”

“I know.”

Silence falls.

Jungkook coughs, clearing his throat as he swallows down another mouthful of pasta before continuing. “You know why I told that lady that we were dating?”

“To be a nice person, I guess?” You suggest.

“No,” Jungkook says, placing his fork down with a clang. “I told her, a woman who would never know who we were, never need to know our stunt, because I was hoping that maybe, if I said it to her, it would be real.”

“Jungkook—”

“You scare me generally, Y/N, but you especially scared me when you told me you loved me.” Jungkook exhales. The both of you have stopped eating, at this point. “I thought — I thought maybe you were acting on feelings that were fake, that you has simply fallen in love with the idea of me, a rich guy who could pay for your wildest hopes and dreams. I didn’t trust your feelings, but more importantly, I didn’t trust my own.”

You open your mouth to say something, to explain yourself, but Jungkook beats you to it.

“You’re not supposed to fall in love with your best friend. I’ve seen you at your best and your worst and vice versa, they are moments not worth romanticizing because we are loud, messy people. But those few weeks we had as a couple, fake or not, it was a taste into a dream I didn’t know I had and I never wanted to wake up. You’re not supposed to fall in love with your best friend, but I did, anyway.”

“You’re such a sap, Jeon,” you say playfully, nudging his shoulder. “That was so cheesy.”

“The cheesiest confession for my cheesiest best friend,” he beams in return. “I’m sorry I didn’t recognize my feelings in time for you to stay. I’m sorry that it took a month for me to finally come to terms with them. I’m sorry that you loved me before I knew I loved you.”

His hand is on yours now, your fingers touching in the middle of the table as he draws mindless designs on the back on your hand.

“Saying yes to your proposal was the hardest thing I’ve had to do in a long while,” you admit. “I knew what would happen and yet I still gave in, desperate for a chance to know what it’s like to have you. I’ve watched you, cheered you on from the sidelines for so long that I decided I wanted to try. It was a mistake,” you say, meeting Jungkook’s eyes as his expression falls. “I only fell in love with you harder.”

A smile creeps across Jungkook’s face.

“You’re right, you’re not supposed to fall in love with your best friend, but neither of us have ever been very good at following the rules. I love you, Jungkook.”

“Is that a confession I hear?” Jungkook asks, bringing a hand to his ear. “I’m sorry, I think I missed it.”

“I already confessed to you a month ago, you little shit,” you say, scrunching up your nose. “Don’t push it.”

“For what it’s worth, I love you too, you know.”

“I know.”

Jungkook lets go of your hand, shoving it off the table. “Do you want to try this dating thing? Like, for real?”

“Hmm,” you say, pretending to ponder the offer. “I don’t know. What do I get out of it?”

“My unconditional love and affection,” Jungkook says as you roll your eyes. “And some nice things, every now and then.”

“I guess I’ll take it,” you say, letting the grin on your lips burst into a full-on smile.

Jungkook giggles, all of his teeth showing in that beautiful bunny-like smile of his. “If we weren’t sitting across each other in a booth, I would so kiss you right now.”

“Damn, cockblocked by a piece of wood,” you sigh, shaking your head.

“Fuck you, wood,” Jungkook swears, making you laugh. In exchange for a real kiss, he takes your hand in his, pressing his lips to your fingers.

On the way back, Jungkook decides to take you the long way, weaving through the side streets of Gangnam as he points out different landmarks.

“Is this some elaborate ruse to avoid the reporters? You know you’re not very inconspicuous, right?” You ask as he guides you from the main street, taking you down a back alley littered with trash that probably costs more than your rent.

“Why would I need to avoid the paps?”

“Um, I’m here. A girl. Next to you. Holding your hand,” you say, motioning to your interlocked fingers.

A camera flash goes off.

“Are you my girlfriend, or are you my girlfriend?”

“Woah, woah, when did we cross that line? We haven’t even had our first date yet,” you say defensively.

“Count this one as number one, then,” Jungkook says before he’s running, cameras flashing as he bolts, his hand still interlocked with yours.