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xjoonchildx · a day ago
kanalia | jhs x reader | chapter three: all the finest things in the kingdom
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banner by the amazing @kimtaehyunq
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⚜️summary: secrets and uncertainty plague a young queen in her arranged marriage to a kind but distant king. the farther she drifts from her husband, the closer she gets to one of his most trusted men.
⚜️pairing: queen!reader x royalguard!hoseok
⚜️rating: mature, 18+
⚜️genre: royal AU, historical AU, smut, slow burn & pining
⚜️warnings: infidelity (it’s complicated, y’all) mentions of pregnancy, fertility issues. OC struggles with depressive thoughts and episodes.
⚜️word count: 8.0K
⚜️notes: ermagerd y'all she's a writer! like a published chapter and everything! hahaha thank you guys for putting up with my chaos and my delays. i appreciate you all very much. semi-beta read by the boo @hobi-gif because your girl can never finish her homework on time, read through entirely by @btsarmy9593 because we share a time zone and i know when i can bug her. if you enjoy this chapter or this story, pretty please let me know. i'd love to hear from you!
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Fate is a rather fickle thing, is it not?
For much of your life, it’s smiled on you. It saw fit to hand you a charmed existence; placed you in the enviable position of favored daughter to a wealthy, powerful family. It was fate that determined that one day -- through absolutely no endeavor of your own -- you would ascend even higher than the lofty circumstances you’d already been gifted.
To the throne.
But it is also fate that has seen fit to humble you. It’s placed you in a kingdom far from home, absent the comfort of familiar faces and customs. It is fate that has determined that -- through absolutely no endeavor of your own -- you will be bound for life to a man who cannot love you. Seated in a position of power with no actual power to wield.
And just as you’d once happily accepted fate’s favor, you must now accept its trials.
You have come to understand that there is no undertaking quite as fruitless as raging against forces beyond your control. That trying to fight against your fate would be as futile as trying to count all the stars in the sky.
So the days pass and the heaviness in your body slowly starts to lighten. You exhale the bitterness and disillusionment with each breath and let the wind carry it away.
None of it remains by the time Namjoon resumes his nighttime visits.
Nothing remains at all, in fact, but a vast emptiness that stretches wide inside of you. It is only your body in that chamber with the King -- only your body that follows his gentle instruction and only your body that tenses at the thick stretch of his entry. It is only your body that feels the lingering tenderness between your legs long after he’s retreated to his own chamber.
Well, the King can have your body. It is his by right, after all.
But your mind? Your heart?
Those are yours and yours alone.
You can smell the promise of fall in the breeze.
Something in the air has shifted in recent days -- the summer heat ebbing into a balmy, comfortable warmth. You welcome the change in climate each morning as you bid Hyeri goodbye and set out for your walk.
You take your time about your journey to the woods, winding a meandering, circuitous route across the lush green spanse of the castle’s grounds. You offer kind smiles for anyone who happens to cross your leisurely path, certain you must appear aimless and wandering.
But you know the truth of it -- that your steps are chosen carefully, with purpose.
It is the path that carries you away from prying eyes at the castle and allows you to draw near to the stables. Close enough to observe them at a distance, but not so close as to attract unwanted attention. It is the path that allows you, each morning, to spend a few minutes enjoying a secretive glimpse of Lord Jung and his magnificent warhorse.
It is not, of course, that you don’t think of his personal invitation to the stables.
In truth, you think of the Royal Guardsman and his invitation far more often than you should. But each time you are tempted to accept it, you cannot help but remember your last encounter. The memory of the troubled look in his dark eyes, of the way you’d allowed your practiced composure to fall away in front of him is enough to make your cheeks heat.
And it’s certainly more than enough to keep you at a distance.
So you settle instead for this -- moving surreptitiously between the trees, stealing glances from behind their cover. Secretly watching Lord Jung make headway with his Arabian from the safety of your wooded refuge.
Each new day brings a new mark of progress.
The mornings pass one after the other as you watch Lord Jung slowly win the Arabian’s trust. Over time, the animal’s stance becomes less aggressive. The tension in the lines of his neck and bulging muscles seems to vanish. Over time, Lord Jung appears more and more in control, approaching the animal with the confidence of a man with absolute authority.
Then comes the morning when you see him mounted high atop the massive horse.
The air is crisp -- the coolest of the season -- and you wrap your shawl around you tight as you watch the Royal Guardsman command the beast, confidently issuing commands and leading it through a series of training exercises.
You stand there in your secret perch, smiling for no one’s benefit but your own. Heart swelling in your chest with secondhand pride as Lord Jung smoothly dismounts, treating the animal to an apple as a reward and stroking a kind hand down it’s muzzle.
The next morning, you set out again, feeling a bit brighter than you normally do, walking a bit faster than you normally would. You near the stables with happy anticipation thrumming in your veins, anxious to see the Arabian perform. Perhaps a bit anxious to see his trainer, too.
But your heart sinks as you near the stables, peering at the empty pen between the trees.
Both horse and rider are gone.
One gentle fingertip to the bridge of the nose, stroking lightly over and over again.
This is how Min Yeona likes to be lulled to sleep, you’ve found. The baby makes a contented sound as you continue the motion, nestling deep into the crook of your arm.
“She’s picky about who can hold her, you know,” Boram smiles. “So I believe it is safe to say she likes you very much, Your Grace.”
You laugh lightly, looking down into the infant’s pretty little face and full, pinchable cheeks.
“The feeling is quite mutual, sweet Yeona,” you murmur, “You are the most darling baby I’ve ever seen.”
The infant’s big, dark eyes grow wide at the sound of her name.
They’re the same dark eyes that had once only blinked back at you in reflex -- but now light with recognition when you come around. Only a small accomplishment to be sure, but one that makes you feel wonderful nonetheless.
A few more minutes of the gentle stroking motion and Yeona’s eyes begin to droop. You watch with a soft smile as she slowly succumbs to sleep. Eyes falling shut and lips parting as she relaxes in your hold.
“There she goes,” Boram announces happily, rising from her chair. She carefully plucks the baby from your arms and disappears into the back rooms of the house to place Yeona in her bassinet. When she finally returns, she’s wearing a wide smile and carrying two steaming cups of tea.
“First moment of peace I’ve had all day,” she chuckles, handing you a teacup before sinking heavily into her chair. “You have the magic touch, Your Grace.”
You beam a bit at her praise. “I think I could sit with her for hours.”
“Be careful what you wish for, or I’ll bother you to come visit every day.”
It wouldn’t be a bother at all, you think -- though you do not say it out loud. As it stands, you only visit with Boram twice a week so as not to make a nuisance of yourself. You’ve come to treasure the time you spend with her and Yeona, the easy friendship that’s been forged between the two of you.
“What are you preparing that smells so good, Boram?” you ask, turning your nose up to catch more of the scent. “Everytime I come here, you’re cooking something amazing.”
“I have a pot of dak gomtang simmering over the fire,” she says, “Enough of it to feed an army, too. I always make as much as I can whenever Lord Jung joins us for dinner because he and Yoongi both eat like men twice their size.”
A tingle skates over your skin at the mention of the man’s name.
“Does Lord Jung join you for dinner often, then?”
“As often as I can get him to agree,” Boram sighs. Her voice drops conspiratorially low as she adds, “His wife died, you know.”
The grip around the teacup in your hand goes a bit tight, heat scorching you through the pretty porcelain. You clear your throat as you set it down, smoothing the throbbing skin against your skirts.
“I had heard something to that effect, yes,” you say slowly. “Did you know her well?”
“Not as well as I would have liked,” Boram admits with a frown, turning her head to look out the window. “She hailed from a village in one of the King’s southern holdings. Seemed like a very sweet girl, though. Always pleasant.”
“And how did she come to know Lord Jung?” you ask, tone light as though asking after something as mundane as the weather. “If she hailed from the south, that is.”
“Ah -- well, the story goes that Lord Jung was sent south on business of the Elder King,” Boram explains, pausing to sip at her tea. “He was lodged at her family home for a time. I suppose she was quite taken with the man.”
Your heart trips uncomfortably inside your chest.
It’s easy to imagine, isn’t it? A young, awestruck girl falling to pieces over the dark, dashing Lord Jung. You can practically picture the frenzy a man like him would have provoked had he ridden into the kingdom of your youth. Your sister would have whispered herself hoarse passing the gossip back and forth.
“So it’s my understanding that she immediately went to her father and begged him to arrange the match,” Boram continues. “Her father petitioned the Elder King and the Elder King suggested the marriage to Lord Jung.”
You chew at the inside of your cheek before issuing your next question.
“And Lord Jung saw fit to agree?”
Boram lips twist thoughtfully.
“Well, her family was quite powerful, you see. Very old allies of the Royal Family. So I suppose in some ways, Lord Jung agreed to the match to please His Grace. Certainly there would have been political implications had he refused her.”
“Ah,” you nod, “Very pragmatic.”
“Yes, I believe that is a very apt way to describe it. Lord Jung was in need of a wife and the proposition was advantageous. Besides,” Boram chuckles, “had she been a horrible sort, I’m sure he would have put up a fight. But as it was, she was very sweet. He seemed to like her quite well.”
But did he love her?
The question looms large in your mind and makes heat rush to your cheeks. You drop your eyes to your lap and twist your fingers together, avoiding Boram’s kind face and kind eyes. You would be mortified if your friend saw even a tiny glimpse of the shameful envy brought on by the mention of Lord Jung’s late, young wife.
“Well, I was quite sorry to hear of the circumstances of her death,” you say, at last. “Such a shame to happen to a woman so young.”
“A terrible shame,” Boram agrees. “But perhaps a necessary reminder that we are not promised tomorrow or the next day. Life is far too short to put off the business of happiness.”
A letter arrives two days later.
Hyeri hands it to you early in the morning as you dress, one brow lifting high when you do not tear into the ornate envelope at once. But it takes only one quick glance at the looping, neat letters for you to know exactly where -- or rather who -- this letter is from.
And it is for that very reason that you wait until you can steal a few moments alone before reading it.
There is a cool tinge to the air in the aviary this afternoon, something nearing a proper chill when the occasional gust of wind passes through. So you pull your shawl tight around your shoulders as you open your journal and reach for the envelope, working the wax seal apart with great care.
My Dearest Sister (Because though you are a Queen, you are not my Queen, you are my sister and I will address you as such) --
I write to you today because you never write to me. I’m sure your life as Queen is a dizzying, posh affair but I often wonder if you ever think of me? Surely you can find time in between parties and tea socials to send a quick missive to your only sister who eagerly awaits the details of your illustrious new life.
I suppose instead I shall bore you with the details of mine.
Things here are much the same as you left them. Mother is still dreadful, though I would venture to say that she is more dreadful than ever now that you have gone. Without you here, she has little to do but worry over me. I cannot sing or paint or sketch as well as you do and Mother makes no effort to hide her displeasure about it. She finds me lacking in every way.
Worst of all, she says I’m to reduce if I’m to find a husband.
She says men do not want plump wives which I believe strongly to be untrue. I told her that the butcher’s son told me that he quite prefers a healthy woman with a sizeable backside and she was predictably appalled. She then immediately forbade me from eating Eunbi’s custards and now I must suffer each night as I watch Father partake in my favorite indulgence without me.
Our brother is well. He’s nearly finished with his preparations to take over the estate and has announced designs to marry Lee Myeong. Face like a bloodhound that woman, but he seems to like her quite well and I suppose that’s all that truly matters. He does, on occasion, manage to sneak a fruit tart from the kitchens for me.
Hajoon told me that she heard from Siwoo who said that Nabi made the acquaintance of the daughter of a traveling merchant who came through some time back. The merchant’s daughter claims she’s seen your King for herself and that he is quite handsome. So I am both relieved that he is not covered in warts and very sorry for ever suggesting otherwise.
Finally, I must tell you that Mother waits every day for a rider bringing news of your child. She threatens that she will pay you a very long visit once the news arrives and I thought it only fair that you be warned.
I miss you.
Your sister, Chaehee
A smile plays over your lips despite the tears that well in your eyes.
There’s something comforting about seeing your sister’s words on paper -- something reassuring about knowing that the same funny, headstrong girl you left behind remains. But your heart also twinges at the thought of your mother trying to change that. Subjecting your sister to the same caustic treatment you suffered for far too long. Probably far worse.
The sun changes position in the sky and the birds sing overhead as you sit at your pretty desk, reading and rereading the letter. Contemplating how best to respond and rationalize your silence.
There’s no truly plausible explanation for it, of course. No excuse that will satisfy your sister’s curiosity or balm her wounded pride. And there is certainly no way you can bring yourself to admit to Chaehee that you have written to her, over and over again -- but that each letter has found its way into a fire instead of a carrier bag.
My Dearest Sister --
I regret that I have not yet written to you. You must understand that as a Queen, my days are a whirlwind of duties both diplomatic and marital. I am quite pleased to tell you that I am sublimely happy here. The King is an exemplary ruler and husband who consults me on all affairs before issuing his wise judgement. Our mother was right -- good things come to compliant, courteous women and you should do your best to please her.
My Dearest Sister --
Life has a way of diverting from even the best laid plans. I find that my days here are not what I had anticipated and that much of my time is spent navigating a new world with new rules and new challenges. I try very hard not to be disheartened, but I must admit that I am quite adrift.
My Dearest Sister --
The most astonishing thing has happened to me and I must share it at once. You see, I happened upon the King in the midst of passionate liaison with another woman. What’s more, my handmaid assures me that my husband is not a common cad but rather a man deeply in love with someone else. So I regret to inform you that propriety and obedience are not any particular guarantee of happiness. Please learn from my mistakes so that you may not commit them as well.
None of the letters you have started, stopped, and ultimately burned would do. And so torn between telling the disheartening truth or constructing an elaborate lie, you’d instead chosen a third option. Silence.
But with the arrival of this letter from your sister comes an ultimatum. There is no choice but to answer.
Now you must figure out how.
The next time you cross paths with Lord Jung, it is entirely by chance. Entirely.
Yes, it is true that in the days following your visit with Boram, you consider the fact that Lord Jung dines often at her home. And yes, it is also true that you make a few subtle changes to your schedule. You start to call on the Min girls late into the afternoon, bidding your goodbyes in the early moments of dusk.
But certainly neither one of those things has anything to do with the other.
So yes, it is entirely by chance that just a few days later -- just as you’ve wrapped your shawl around your shoulders and dropped a farewell kiss to Yeona’s plump cheek -- that you run into Lord Jung. Literally.
By some cosmic folly, the man is pulling the heavy door to the Min home open at the very moment you are pushing against it. There is not enough time or space to stop your forward motion when the door swings open wide, sending you tumbling.
Somehow, despite the awkward, forceful way you crash into him, the two of you do not collapse to the ground in a heap. Lord Jung manages to absorb your momentum, firmly planting his feet and grasping you tight in order to keep you from tripping over yours.
He raises one dark brow once he’s certain you’re both steady.
“That’s quite an entrance, Your Grace,” he chuckles under his breath. “Or exit, I should say. I suppose that’s more accurate.”
You blink up at him for a moment, staring dumbly while you gather your wits. And slowly, the wry amusement in his face falls away the longer you remain silent.
“Are you alright, Your Grace?”
It takes you a second to realize that the question has not come from the man before you -- the one still holding you far too close. The question comes instead from Lord Min, who is standing behind Lord Jung, wearing an expression of concern that matches his counterpart.
You shake your head slowly, dispelling your stupor.
“No, I’m quite alright,” you insist with a strained laugh, awkwardly jerking out of Lord Jung’s hold. You wobble backwards like a foal trying out it’s new legs. “Forgive me,” you murmur, face aflame, “I am not usually in the habit of such clumsiness.”
“Nothing to forgive,” Lord Jung replies, lips twitching with a hint of a smile.
“Oh, my goodness! Did you hurt yourself?”
You turn your head at the sound of Boram’s exclamation and find her standing in the entryway behind you, Yeona in her arms.
“Oh no, I’m fine,” you assure quickly, straightening your shawl. You push wayward strands of hair behind your ears, feeling the weight of all three sets of eyes on you at once. “Thanks to Lord Jung, here. I’ll try to take my leave now without making any more of a scene.”
Yeona makes an unhappy sound, frustrated when she sees her father and he does not attend to her at once. Lord Min moves to right that wrong, stepping around you to accept her from Boram’s arms.
“You seem very eager to run off,” he teases, bouncing Yeona expertly against his hip. The infant gurgles her happiness. “A shame, seeing as we are about to share supper. I think I speak for Boram as well when I say that it would be an honor to have you dine with us.”
Boram nods her agreement vigorously.
“Yes, of course,” she says, a smile lighting up her pretty face. “We would be so pleased for you to join us. I really ought to have thought to extend that invitation much sooner.”
You look from her to Lord Min and then to Lord Jung, who adds nothing to their declarations, handsome face unreadable in the waning sunlight.
“Oh, you’re all so kind,” you protest weakly, “Truly. Perhaps another day. But I really must return to the castle at once. Too much time away and Hyeri starts to worry after me.”
Something strange flickers behind Lord Jung’s dark eyes, but still he says nothing. A fraught beat of silence follows in which Lord Min clears his throat.
“We certainly understand the constraints of your schedule, Your Grace,” he says pleasantly. “But rest assured that you are welcome to dine at our home any time it pleases you.”
“Thank you,” you say, forcing a tight smile. “I’ll remember that.”
“Very well,” Lord Min smiles, stepping through the threshold and holding the door open with his free arm. “Now hurry up, Jung. I’m hungry.”
“Go on without me,” Lord Jung calls back, “I’ll see Her Grace back to the castle first.”
Now it feels as though your entire body might go up in flame. Heat blazes a path up your neck and down your back as you whirl on him.
“My Lord, that’s not necessary, it’s but a short --”
“-- It’s nearly dark,” he interrupts, voice low, for your ears only. “And I insist.”
You would argue with the man, truly, were there not such finality in his tone. And so just like that majestic horse you watched him train, you resign yourself to his instruction -- and follow his lead.
The short walk back to the castle begins with a long silence.
It’s not the comfortable, companionable kind of silence often shared between a pair of close friends. Rather, something about this silence feels heavy, the air between the two of you dense with the weight of a peculiar tension.
Were this any other man, it would be easy enough to carry on a cordial conversation. You’d remark on the pleasant change in the weather and he would agree. He’d ask after the goings on at the castle and you’d offer a lighthearted anecdote about the staff.
But this is not any other man, is it?
And so once again you find yourself at a loss for words, as happens far too often in Lord Jung’s presence. You shrink deep into your shawl and keep your eyes trained on your feet, walking fast in order to keep up with his long strides.
“You never did come by the stables.”
The statement comes without preamble, the rich sound of his voice cutting clear through the thick silence. You find that you are grateful for the long skirts that conceal the way your steps falter in response.
“I -- ” You start and pause. Wanted to. Should have. “ -- regret that I did not, My Lord. The days have a way of getting away from me sometimes.”
“Yes, of course,” he concedes graciously, eyes fixed on the path ahead.
You look up from your feet to steal a furtive look at the man, captivated by the way the little sunlight left in the sky manages to find and illuminate him. His sharp features bathed in the most glorious wash of red and gold.
“Have you made much progress with him, then?”
“Much,” he agrees, long strides slowing just a bit. “It took us some time, but we did manage to break him."
“That’s wonderful news,” you say genuinely, as though you’d not spent weeks surreptitiously watching the training process through the thick of the trees. “And did you change his shoes? Did that do the trick?”
“Well, I should like to think that it was my skill as a horseman that did the trick,” he chuckles, “But I am also a man who does not like to leave things to chance. So I did have his shoes changed. Just to be sure.”
His dark eyes sparkle with humor when he finally turns to look at you, mouth curved into a playful smirk that makes your stomach go weightless. And you return the smile -- politely -- taking great care not to appear as delighted as you feel.
The agreeable moment is ruined as the grand brick facade of the castle and the bustling activity in the courtyard slowly come into view. Your heart starts to sink a little with every step, each one a reminder of the inevitable end to this walk and his company.
“It must have been very hard work,” you remark quietly. “That horse is as formidable an animal as I have ever seen. I imagine he didn’t break easily.”
“You imagine right,” Lord Jung replies, shaking his head. “He fought me every step of the way. That’s why I decided to name him Jeonsa.”
Jeonsa. Warrior. A more than appropriate name, given what you’d glimpsed of the warhorse’s power.
“And now he will serve the King.”
“Yes,” Lord Jung confirms, strides even slower now than before. “He’ll be the King’s personal mount.”
The thought rankles you. It had not been the King who’d done the hard work of breaking that animal. Not the King who’d spend hours each day toiling in the hot sun at the stables. But your husband would reap the rewards anyway.
Someday he would mount that warhorse in grand fashion and his people would all stare in awe, whispering about how regal and noble he looked.
The grass beneath your feet gives way to the crunch of gravel as the two of you walk together into the courtyard. Ahead of you, the men standing guard at the castle’s entrance bow.
“Forgive me for saying so,” you start quietly, “But it seems unjust. That horse is only suitable for service because of your training. He’s probably bonded to you. It’s a shame that you cannot keep him.”
Lord Jung is quiet until the two of you reach the bottom step to the castle’s grand entrance and the guards pull the heavy door open wide. He stops there, nodding an acknowledgment to the men before turning his attention back to you.
“That is the way of things, Your Grace,” he says at last. “When you are King, all the finest things in the kingdom belong to you. Just or not.”
Certainly he’s only speaking of the horse. Certainly there is no reason to read deeper meaning into his piercing gaze, into his words. But you are struck still for a long moment, heart pounding in your ears as you search for your words.
“Good night, Your Grace,” Lord Jung murmurs, bowing a farewell.
You swallow against the sudden tightness in your throat and nod.
“Good night, My Lord.”
That night, as you dine on what is certain to be the most elaborate spread in the entire realm, you find yourself without an appetite. You half-listen to the King’s attempts at conversation, smiling when appropriate, answering when appropriate.
He doesn’t seem to notice the way you spend your entire meal pushing your food around the plate, wishing instead for a warm bowl of dak gomtang and the company of friends.
You ease the pressure off, bit by bit, and watch the thick stroke of charcoal wane into a much finer one.
It’s taken you days -- no, weeks, really -- to get the lines just right, to draft the shapes to your satisfaction. Of course, you’ll never be able to fully capture the elegant slope of his nose or the precise angles of his jaw, but this will have to do.
You roll your tender shoulders and tip your head back to bask in the warmth of the sun, content to feel the heat on your face. And the thought that has surfaced in your mind countless times these past weeks surfaces once again.
This is infatuation, isn’t it?
This preoccupation you have with Lord Jung. The way your mind drifts to thoughts of him for no reason at all, at all hours of the day. The way your stomach feels as though you’ve swallowed an entire net of butterflies in his presence.
The way you dread and desire seeing him at the very same time.
It must be infatuation. Just a silly, girlish fascination with a handsome man of your acquaintance. And a harmless sentiment in the grand scheme of things, considering the state of your marriage.
Because it’s not as though you’ve done anything wrong, is it?
It’s not you who’s been discovered in bed, limbs tangled around another man. Not you sneaking off each afternoon for clandestine trysts with a secret lover. Admiration is not tantamount to adultery and longing does not rise to the level of lust.
And yet.
There is some small part of you that knows that entertaining these thoughts can lead to nothing but ruin. That allowing even a small seed of want to flourish inside you could prove disastrous. That by doing so, you could make yourself vulnerable to something far worse than what you’ve already suffered.
And yet.
You open your eyes to search for the stationery in your basket, feeling for the edges of the fine paper packed away between drawing supplies. Your fingertips brush against the bundle of stiff pages and you pull one free, smoothing it over the surface of your desk. And as you reach for your ink, you regard the lovely face of the man in your sketch.
This time, the words don’t start and stop. This time, you know exactly what to say.
My Dearest Sister:
I have learned a great many things since leaving home and coming to this place. The world is so vast, Chaehee, so much more complex than I ever imagined. I think back to when I was younger -- back to when I was so certain of the future that lay ahead of me -- and now I am mortified by my former self.
I need you to know that you lack for nothing.
You have been blessed with courage and discernment far beyond anything I could ever hope for. You have the sharpest mind of any woman I have ever known and deserve everything you dream of.
Finally, the thing I want most to say.
You must think of yourself and your happiness above all else. It will not come from satisfying Mother with your singing or bringing news of a betrothal to Father. It will come only from you, when you do and live exactly as you please.
This is my most fervent wish for you.
With love,
Your Sister
P.S. -- Eat the custard.
You fold the letter carefully and slip it between the pages of your journal before packing up your things and heading back.
You arrive at the castle to find Hyeri in a state.
You are barely through the chamber door when she has you in hand, wrenching your basket away and pushing you towards an ancient man with thick spectacles.
The realization hits you right away.
“I’m late for the fitting,” you whisper apologetically, nodding at the man as he feebly bows.
“Very late,” Hyeri corrects through her teeth. “As in just minutes away from me marching myself down to that aviary to drag you back myself. Bad hip and all.”
“I’m so sorry,” you whisper, turning to the man with a contrite smile. “I’m so sorry for my tardiness,” you repeat a bit louder but the man merely squints at you as he pulls pins and tape from his kit.
“Don’t bother,” Hyeri snorts, “The man is deaf as a post. But he’s the finest dressmaker in this entire country so pay attention and do exactly as he asks.”
So you do as you’re told, stepping up onto the stool and doing your best to interpret the man’s nearly inaudible commands. Hyeri glowers at you as he unspools his tape and starts the work of taking your measurements.
“You’re lucky he didn’t get back into his carriage and leave you,” she lectures. “It could take months to secure another appointment with a dressmaker of this caliber. Does this look like the kind of man who has months to spare?”
“Hyeri!” you hiss.
“I already told you, he cannot hear.”
You search the man’s wrinkled face for any sign of insult and find none. He seems oblivious to anything but the tape in his hands and the numbers he records with slow, shaky strokes. Hyeri crosses her arms across her chest, and raises a brow as if to say, See?
“Well you’d better hope he cannot read lips,” you grumble, rolling your eyes as Hyeri’s face breaks into a wide grin.
The old man, still unaware of the conversation taking place over his head, stands to his feet. He spreads his arms until he is standing before you like a scarecrow and you mimic the stance, allowing him room to measure beneath your arms.
“These dresses should be ready in time for the King’s grand fall celebration,” Hyeri says, pacing as she watches him work. “You’ll be very pleased with them once they arrive, Your Grace. You’ll see. This man’s work is a cut above anything else I’ve ever seen.”
“I’m sure they will be exquisite,” you return absentmindedly, muscles burning with the effort it takes to hold your arms straight out and keep them still.
Hyeri stops pacing in front of your desk and peers into your basket, gaze focused on the folded letter jutting out from between the pages of your journal. She recognizes the heavy paper stock at once.
“Is that a letter to be sent, Your Grace?”
“Yes,” you practically groan, “To my sister. I’ll see to sending it off -- ”
“-- Nonsense,” Hyeri interrupts, reaching into the basket. “That’s what you have me for.”
“But I -- ”
You are powerless to stop her as she takes hold of your journal, carefully cracking it open to retrieve the letter pressed between the pages. By now your muscles are screaming in protest, breath caught in your throat as you watch her study the sketch revealed once the letter is in her hand.
There is a harrowing moment in which you watch her eyes go a bit wide.
“This sketch is quite good, Your Grace,” she starts slowly, lifting her eyes to meet yours across the room. “A very… solid likeness.”
“It’s -- it’s no one,” you lie pathetically, nearly gasping with relief when the old man signals that you can release your arms back to your sides. “No one in particular. Just a silly bit of doodling.”
Hyeri’s eyebrows go up high as she looks from you back to the sketch, face frozen in an expression of disbelief.
“Well, it must be my mistake then,” she murmurs, clearing her throat as she closes the journal and carefully sets it back in the basket. “Perhaps I saw something that wasn’t there.”
It is little more than a week later when you wake feeling a bit out of sorts.
There is a stiffness in your neck and a low throb in your temples as Hyeri dresses you for the day. She makes note of your lethargy and you brush off her concerns, certain both can be relieved with a bit of fresh air and exercise.
And so, despite your fatigue, you go on about your day.
You push yourself to complete your morning walk despite the heaviness in your legs, then set out that afternoon for the aviary with a book in hand. But after a while, it becomes clear that the exertion has done little to alleviate your discomfort.
And as you try -- and fail -- to concentrate on the words on the page before you, realization dawns that you feel much worse now than before.
And that’s when the trouble begins.
The moment you make to stand from your desk, the lightheadedness hits you. The book falls from your grasp as you slowly stumble your way to the garden entrance, disoriented and weak. And when you finally reach the gate, you wrap both hands around the wrought iron bars and hold on for dear life, closing your eyes and waiting for the dizziness to dispel.
It doesn’t.
Briefly you consider sinking to the ground below and staying put; waiting for someone to come to your rescue. But the logical part of you knows it could take hours for someone to notice your absence and no one is likely to pass by this part of the grounds any sooner. The seclusion and peace you have always treasured in this place now work against you.
So you rest for a while, preserving the little strength you have left until you are ready to try walking again.
It is painstaking work to make your way out of the garden and up the private walk. The heaviness in your muscles makes the simple act of lifting your head to watch your steps nearly impossible. But you know if you can push yourself just a little bit more, if you can make it to the castle’s main walkway, someone will see you. Someone will help.
And someone does finally see you, just as you are teetering onto the walking path. The heel of your boot lands awkwardly atop of a large piece of gravel and you stumble, falling to your knees.
“Your Grace?”
You don’t recognize the voice right away, certainly not at a distance. But you hear the sound of the man’s feet coming quicker, closer, as he runs towards you. Then a second shadow is joining yours as you stare down at the ground.
“Your Grace, tell me what’s wrong,” the man says, getting to his own knees beside you. “What’s happened?”
You nearly weep at the concern in Lord Jeon’s face, his voice.
“I don’t know,” you manage, surprised at the thin, hollow sound of your own voice, “I can’t walk. Too dizzy and too weak.”
He leans away from you to whistle, the shrill sound of it making the throb in your temples pound harder.
“I’ll help you,” he promises, sidling close to loop your arm over his shoulder. “We’ll do it together.”
He stands to his feet, lifting his body and yours at the same time and you sag into him, incapable of maintaining any balance.
Distantly, you make out the sound of more boots and more voices approaching -- no doubt more manpower summoned by Lord Jeon’s call. The youngest Lord Kim is the man you recognize first, pretty blonde hair matted to his brow with sweat. Beside him stands Lord Park.
Lord Kim reaches out to press one large hand to your forehead.
“She’s feverish,” he announces somberly. A keen observation because between the dizziness and the throbbing head you hadn’t realized you were feverish until this very moment. “We have to get her back to the castle at once.”
All three men nod in agreement.
“I’ll find the Hyungs,” Lord Park decides, taking off towards the castle. “Carry her if you have to,” he calls out over his shoulder.
Lord Kim takes to your other side, looping your free arm over his own shoulder and he and Lord Jeon begin the task of moving towards the castle, the two of them supporting your useless weight between them.
“We can take her from here.”
At what point did Lord Jung appear? By now you are too afflicted and too dazed to remember his arrival or Lord Min’s. You only know that when you reach the castle steps, both men are there -- and Lord Jung sets to work right away, issuing orders to the younger men.
“Taehyung, send for the doctor,” he directs, taking the man’s place at your side. Lord Min takes over for Lord Jeon and you wince at the bite of the tiny pieces of gravel still stuck to your knees. “Jungkook, find the King.”
The youngest man nods and both guardsmen make haste, setting out in different directions. Lord Min leans close, brow furrowed with concern.
“Do you think you can manage the steps, Your Grace?” he asks kindly.
“I don’t know that I have a choice,” you concede with a shivering laugh that makes your temples throb anew. “I only know that I would do anything to be able to lie down right now.”
“We’ll have you in bed before you know it,” Lord Jung promises. He signals to Lord Min that it’s time to move and the men carefully lift you up each step, one by one.
“I never should have let you leave for that walk,” Hyeri worries aloud, chastising herself as she pulls back your plush duvet.
The short distance between your chamber door and the bed looks more like a chasm, the only thing standing between you and the comfort you know will come the moment you are able to lie still.
“Taehyung has already sent for the doctor,” Lord Jung explains, maneuvering so that he and Lord Min can help you flop pathetically onto the mattress. Hyeri attends to you at once, pressing a cold cloth to your forehead that makes tears of relief spring to your eyes.
“Poor dear,” she laments under her breath, moving to the foot of the bed to unlace your boots. “Poor, poor dear.”
You try to block everything out but the sensation of that cool cloth across your brow -- the pain and the noise and the commotion still filling your chamber. But soon there is a knock at the chamber door and another voice joining the fray. Almost too quiet for you to hear.
“I can’t find the King.”
Lord Jeon’s words are spoken in a hush -- the statement clearly not intended for the room at large.
“Did you check the stables?” Lord Min asks. “The barber? The blacksmith?”
Jeon clears his throat. “I checked them all, Hyung. I don’t know where he is.”
The young guard’s strained reply is followed by an equally strained silence, made more obvious by the stillness that falls over the entire room. Even Hyeri, who’s busied herself with arranging your pillows and sheets, stops still. By now, the throb in your temple has graduated into a steady pounding.
“Find him.”
There is absolutely no doubt as the owner of that voice, and absolutely no doubt as to the gravity of his command. Lord Jung’s words come slowly -- tightly -- as though pushed through clenched teeth.
“Go now, and find him.”
The King never does make an appearance, but much to your relief, the doctor does.
Right away, he has you drink a thick, herbed syrup that makes you gag. Hyeri helps you sit up in bed long enough to choke it back, whispering soft reassurances as you struggle to get it down.
The doctor assures Hyeri your malaise will pass after a long rest.
He leaves her with instructions on how to provide care and promises to return the next day to check on your progress. Hyeri sits in a chair at your bedside and strokes one soft, old hand across your damp temple and brow.
A few more minutes of the gentle stroking motion and your eyes begin to droop. Hyeri watches with a sad smile as you slowly succumb to sleep.
When you finally wake, it is to complete quiet and complete darkness.
You blink against the wall of black, ceiling slowly taking shape as your eyes adjust to the darkness. You are still in your walking dress, both it and the sheets beneath you soaked through with sweat.
But it feels as though the fever has passed. That alone makes you feel infinitely better.
You turn your head towards the chair at your bedside and find it empty, croaking Hyeri’s name out loud in a poor attempt to find her.
But there is no answer.
So you slowly sit upright in bed, supporting your weight with palms pressed to the mattress on either side of you. That’s when you notice the shape in the window, a shape pressed into the glass, staring out into the dark. A shape that nearly makes you come out of your skin.
Until you realize that shape is Hyeri.
“Hyeri?” you call out again, a bit louder now, and the poor woman startles backwards so violently she nearly loses her balance.
“Oh! Oh, Your Grace, my goodness, I had no idea you were awake,” she squeaks, backing away from the glass. “How do you feel? What can I get for you?”
“What were you doing?” you ask carefully, the pallor in her face obvious even in the dark. “What has you so spooked?”
Your mouth twists into a frown as you take in the heavy rise and fall of her chest, the way she’s still struggling to catch her breath. Certainly she’s been caught doing something she doesn’t want you to know about.
That’s when you hear the sound. Well, sounds actually.
Your mouth drops open as you stare at Hyeri and strain to make them out. Voices, certainly. A bit muted. Likely not far from your window.
“What is that?” you demand, pulling the duvet back and setting newly steady feet to the floor.
“It’s nothing, Your Grace,” Hyeri objects weakly, “Nothing for you to worry about at all. You ought to stay in bed in your state.”
“Nonsense,” you mutter, padding across the cold chamber floor with your bare feet. Hyeri stares at you with wide, worried eyes as you pass her, moving forward to take her place in the window.
You stare out into the darkness outside your window and realize at once what she was trying to hide.
The King and Lord Jung stand together at the far edge of the courtyard, just a few steps out of the low torchlight. Certainly, they are arguing, there can be no doubt.
Tension is written into every line of their bodies -- the King’s stiff, awkward stance, Lord Jung’s unhappy pacing and gesturing. Over and over again, their voices start to rise -- only to go back to a hush.
And Hyeri, who has abandoned any pretense of not caring about the drama unfolding in the courtyard, now stands over your shoulder watching the strange cycle start and repeat alongside you.
Finally, Lord Jung shakes his head at something Namjoon says, and you watch, astonished, as he turns his back on his friend. His King.
And then he stalks out of the courtyard in a huff.
Namjoon stands there for a moment, breath visible in the cold night air, and scrubs a hand down his face. When he retreats back to the castle, the chamber is quiet for a long moment before you turn to Hyeri with a question.
“What on Earth was that about?”
“Come, Your Grace,” she orders firmly, pulling you away from the window. “Come back to bed and don’t give that madness another thought. The only thing you ought to be worried about right now is sleep.”
You don’t have the energy to argue the matter. So you accept her help changing out of your walking dress and into clean nightclothes, and you wait patiently for the maids to arrive with fresh sheets. You wash up in front of the basin and slip back between the sheets.
And though your body is tired, your mind is anything but.
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hello if you are reading this now i super appreciate you. thank you for reading and i’d love to hear from you 💕💕💕 talk to me here!
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reliablemitten · 2 days ago
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Series Complete!
Pairing: Namjoon x Reader, Jimin x Reader, Namjoon x Reader X Jimin
Genre: Spy!Au
Rating: M (18+)
Word Count: 6.5k
Warnings: Violence, gun violence, people being shot; heavily implied death; descriptions of blood; implied character death; characters have guns; loss; deception; swearing, taking the Christian lord’s name in vain
Author Note: I don’t know anything about wearing or carrying a gun except for what I’ve seen in the movies, so apologies for any mistakes there. I know even less about using a gun, hand to hand combat or field first aid. Reminder Reader has an alias in this story - Natalie Lee - see previous chapters for explanation on why.
Many, many thanks to @hobi-gif for beta-ing and keeping me in check when this got too sappy. @smasmashin for cheerleading and I would not have finished this without your encouragement. Also the way I referenced @xjoonchildx Best Bangtan Moles list like it was an academic text to get the placement right. Sadly, it does not confirm all of Jimin’s moles referenced in this chapter.
And, if you’re reading this, thank you! For reading, for your comments. This fic has been rattling around in my brain for months and it feels so good to get it all out 💜
Series List
Friday, 7:23am
Last night was like a dream. You’re not sure how late you were up. Most of your body feels a little tender today. With the riot of emotions and thoughts happening inside you, the sweet physical love hangover from last night is a pleasant, if not wholly effective, distraction.
Walking out of the bathroom in your towel, you see Jimin adjusting his tie in the full length mirror. That look is back. The hard one. Like he has steel armor behind his eyes.
He smooths his jacket down and then stretches his arms back when he’s done. His jacket lifts just enough so you see the gun in a holster under his left arm.
You shouldn’t be surprised by this. You’re surprised you haven’t seen it before. Namjoon was right, their operation must not have been too violent until now. You aren’t afraid of guns, you have extensive arms training. Hell, you can even shoot a bazooka if necessary. But the sight of your sexy, cinnamon roll man carrying a piece brings reality screaming back.
This could be it. This could be the end.
“Jimin, why do you have a gun?” You reach out to him, but pull your hand back. You know why, of course, but it’s so incongruous, so scary, so real.
He pauses.
“Jagiya. My job is more complex than I’ve told you…”
“What do you mean? Jimin, you’re making me nervous.” This is not entirely a lie. You are quaking inside at what might happen today.
“Don’t be nervous, my love, but there’s been some trouble. At our warehouse. This is just in case. For protection.” His hands are on your shoulders, fingertips lightly moving back and forth.
You’re frowning so hard it kind of makes your head hurt. You try to relax your face, except then you might start crying.
You almost tell him everything right then.
You want to confess and beg him to run away with you. Leave Paris, find a beach somewhere and just be together. Never look back.
But if that happens, everyone else is at risk. Tae, Jin, Jungkook.
So you sniffle a little, bite your lip, and hug him. “Okay, it’s just I didn’t know—I love you. Please be safe. I can’t—” Take a deep breath. There is a plan. “I love you, okay?”
“Okay.” He’s hugging you, gently stroking your back, face pressed close, a little smile against your neck. “It’s okay, love. It’s okay.”
One more deep breath. You lift your head and blink the tears that welled in your eyes. His eyes are gazing right into yours, his hand softly whisking the tears off your face.
He kisses you softly once. “I’ll see you later?” He’s bending down slightly to keep his eyes on yours.
You nod. You loosen your grip. And let him go.
He turns and walks out without looking back.
Your face briefly crumples, mouth and eyes squeezing shut. You just need to get this rush of pain and panic out, then you can focus. It’s like it is surging out of you now, this fear that you’ve shoved into a corner of your heart. You bend over, holding your stomach, trying to hold the towel on your body. You’re suddenly very cold.
Then it’s over. It’s out.
You’re hunching over breathing hard, panting like you’ve just sprinted. You focus on breathing in. And breathing in. Breathe in. Breathe out.
This sharpens your mind. You have a plan. You know exactly what to do.
This time, everybody lives.
Friday, 8:35am
You take the Metro and make three transfers to the George V station. You still have a guard outside your house and Jimin has one at his, so just in case they’re following you, losing someone in the Metro is the easiest route.
Yoongi picks you up in a van so you can drive to the gallery. Jin was there at 5am to be in place in advance of anyone else.
When you hop in, he gives you a grin and wink. “Hey there, agent. Ready?”
“Who is this smiley person? Am I being kidnapped? I demand you takes to the real
Yoongi!” you joke, happy to see a familiar face even if you’ve never seen it before. Grateful for a moment of levity.
The smile stays but the deadpan shows up a little, “Spare me your attempts at humor, let’s go.”
“There he is! I feel much better now.” Laughing, you glance at the back of the truck and see the monitors, the computers, the weapons cage. This is really happening.
Looking back at Yoongi—seriously why is everyone involved in this so freaking hot—the two of you talk through the plan again.
Jimin and Namjoon, and you’re assuming Jungkook, will meet the New Guys on the loading dock. Jin is in place as support inside the gallery, as are some of Jimin’s men.
They’ll inspect the doctored painting crates, formalize the plans to sell and give some profit back to Jimin and company. Since the New Guys want to have a full partnership, they will probably ask for the proprietary chemical mix that allows the drugs to be stable but line the paintings.
This is the part of the deal where Jimin and the New Guys aren’t aligned. He wants to keep it, because the recipe is what gives them full control here. So this is where it might get complicated. The “recipe” is on Jimin’s phone, and since you have the tap, Yoongi’s manipulated the file so it can’t be sent, downloaded, copied or have a screenshot.
The plan is to have Namjoon (who they think is Jung Hoseok) tell them they’ll do another deal with the plans. If the New Guys protest, he’ll offer them full profit—several million Euros—on the shipment. Then Jin will meet them on their way out of the gallery and bring them both to the bomb shelter storage where they’ll stay until the New Guys have cleared out. And then they’ll be taken to a black site in Paris and moved to witness protection. Namjoon will carry on the business as normal.
This is the plan when it runs perfectly. This is how it has to work.
You arrive outside the gallery in about 10 minutes and Yoongi busies himself setting everything up. Yesterday you placed devices on the gallery’s video feeds so the van could pick them up. While Yoongi boots everything up, you get your gun from the weapons cage and check the clip, the safety and tuck it into the back of your jeans. Holsters don’t work well for people with boobs.
“_______, we’re ready.” Hearing your own name feels so luxurious these days, and to get it from Yoongi’s gravely voice is such a treat. Just then Tae texts you that it’s all set from his side, he let the other employees know the gallery was closed for an exterminator in the building.
“Okay, let’s get it.” You smile, your nerves soothed by the adrenaline coursing through your veins. Jin was right, you had trained for this.
Jimin, Namjoon, and Jungkook arrive early with two other guys you recognize from your security detail. Tae, who even on a day like today is in head to toe Gucci, explains there is an extermination happening in the apartments upstairs.
Ever the host, Tae makes them coffee in the back offices. There is a full cappuccino machine to serve fancy clients. Usually one of the assistants makes it and it says a lot about Tae that he’s willing to make coffee for them since he dislikes it so much.
9:55 am
Camera shows the New Guys and the truck show up in the loading dock.
The men in the upstairs offices bow and shake hands. Tae and Jimin briefly hug. There’s no audio on the office cameras for privacy, but you can see both of their faces. Tae’s briefly flashes concern. The other three leave and when the door is closed, Tae looks right at the camera and gives a thumbs up.
You and Yoongi huddle around the screen with the loading dock feed, your eyes trained on the doors that lead from the gallery. There is a short flight of concrete stairs they’ll have to walk down to reach the lower floor that has truck access and where the New Guys—about seven of them—and the crates with the paintings are waiting.
The door and stairwell are surrounded by larger crates both near the door and on the lower floor. Because of this, you can’t see the door fully and they’ll be briefly hidden before they come out into the open.
The doors open and Jimin’s group walks out. Jungkook and the two other guys first, eyes scanning the room quickly while Namjoon and Jimin follow them. Jungkook nods an acknowledgement to the men standing on the lower floor and the five of them head down the stairs. The New Guys start loudly greeting them, why are they shouting in such a small space?
Just then you see movement on the right side of the screen. One of the panels on a huge crate is sliding open. Sliding… that doesn’t seem right, those crate doors are usually screwed on...
“Oh my god, they had someone hidden! Someone hidden in a crate!” Shouting and pointing at the screen, you and Yoongi are both standing now. Your breath is coming in shorter spurts, like you’ve been sprinting. You can see inside the crate a little now, blankets, food wrappers, and a large can. The sight makes you sick.
You’d only had camera access to this space for 24 hours. This guy must have been here since at least Wednesday. You weren’t monitoring shipments in and out. And with the Russia trip last week, the gallery was behind on it’s paperwork. Who knows how long this crate has been there.
The voices in the room are overpowering any sounds of movement, echoing around the concrete room. Jungkook and the other guards have come around the crates at the foot of the stairs, just as you see the hidden guy rush behind those boxes. Right where Joon and Jimin are.
They’ve outplayed you.
You are yelling at the screen, but of course they can’t hear you. Wearing a wire is too dangerous in this scenario for multiple reasons. Everyone just trusted the plan.
You hear shouting and a scuffle behind the box and Namjoon walks out with his hands up.
The hidden guy follows him. One hand on the back of Jimin’s neck forcing him forward. The other holding a gun to Jimin’s left temple.
Jimin’s face is expressionless. He’s not resisting but he’s also not in any hurry to move. He’s trying to give his guys a chance to notice what’s happening.
The other New Guys all pull their guns. As if it’s in slow motion, you watch Jungkook and the others realize what’s happened. Jungkook is the first to have his weapon out. He trains it on the hidden guy, the other guards point at the group of New Guys.
They are outnumbered. It was meant to be a show of respect and trust, to bring fewer people. Namjoon was insistent it had to be this way, keeping in line with how business was done in Jimin’s organization.
A New Guy steps forward and addresses Jimin. “Give us the recipe, Park and no one gets hurt.”
“This was not part of the deal,” Namjoon starts, arms still above his head. He approaches the lead New Guy slowly but with authority. “The deal gets all of us more. Cutting us out will just end in headaches.”
The New Guy laughs, “No it doesn’t. This way we get everything. Take his phone. Where is it, Park?”
“_______,” Yoongi says, interrupting your concentration. He’s typing rapidly on the computer next to him. You can see a mirror image of Jimin’s phone on the screen. His background is a photo of you and him taken at LaRotonde in one of those dark, cushy booths. He took it just as you turned your head to him. You’re looking at him with a mix of adoration and like you want to eat him instead of your dinner.
That seems like a lifetime ago.
“I’m going to remove the file completely, since they’re not playing fair, I doubt they’ll take the time to download it or whatever. The risk is they might see me working on the phone if they’re poking around in it.”
Another guy moves forward and starts patting Jimin down. He first finds the gun and takes it, looking at the hidden guy, he scolds him. “Next time remember to take the fucking gun.” He turns away and hands Jimin’s weapon to another New Guy and resumes his search.
He finds Jimin’s phone from his back left pocket. Jimin’s face betrays nothing. It’s still set in steel, his eyes looking forward. You can see him breathing. Then his eyes quickly flit over to Jungkook, who also hasn’t moved.
They might make a move. They’ve known each other for so long, trained together, worked together.
“Come on, come on, come on…” Yoongi is talking to the screen. You are still focused on Jimin, trying to will him to just wait a few more seconds.
“Keep calm, baby, we have this, we planned for this.” You’re staring at the screen, talking to yourself, to Jimin.
The New Guy holds it up to Jimin’s face to unlock it. On Yoongi’s screen you see him deleting the file. Jimin’s mouth quirks slightly. He must have seen the document being deleted in front of him. No time to worry about that now. You just want to get to the point where you’ll have a chance to explain.
The New Guy is poking around. “Where is it, Park?”
Jimin’s lips barely move. “It’s in the file folder titled ‘Mix 10.13.5’”
Time seems to stop while the guy pokes around in the phone. Jimin and Jungkook glance at each other again. Namjoon closes his eyes for a second, like he’s listening, trying to anticipate the next move. You and Yoongi hold your breath.
“It’s not there, that folder is empty. Stop lying. Bet your girlfriend would know.” He shows the New Guys the photo. “She works here—someone go find her.” One New Guy heads up the stairs.
The hidden guy pushes the gun harder into Jimin’s temple, pulling his head back slightly with the force.
“Not worth arguing,” says lead New Guy. “We’ll take it and just go, we’ll find it. Remove the security—”
Now that they have the phone, there is no more need for Jimin and Namjoon. Time for Plan B to kick in.
You’ve got your own hidden guy.
Jin steps out from behind a crate and without hesitation, shoots the lead New Guy. He crumples to the ground and then all hell breaks loose.
Jungkook pivots away from Jimin, who looks so shocked at seeing Jin, and starts shooting into the groups of New Guys. His normally stone face distorted with rage. He hits at least one guy but one of the New Guys manages to get a shot on him and Jungkook is hit in the shoulder. He’s knocked back to the ground and stops moving.
Jin turns to the hidden guy, still holding Jimin, and shoots him right in the chest. The hidden guy starts to fall. His hold on Jimin loosens and Jimin jerks back, ducking, just as the hidden guy’s gun goes off, right over Jimin’s head. The hidden guy manages to get one more shot out before he falls over and it hits Jin in the ribs. Jin is knocked back, falling to the ground, clutching at this side.
When he lands on the floor he is completely still.
Namjoon has moved behind a crate and is also shooting at the larger group of New Guys. Chunks of wood fly off the crate as the bullets hit it.
Just then Jungkook gets up from the ground, like the goddamn Terminator. He’s moving slowly, his arm is bleeding, but a shot that would have knocked out anyone else has not stopped him. He gets to his feet and starts screaming in Korean, charging the larger group.
Jimin has rolled on the ground landing near a piece of wood that’s been shot off of one of the crates. The hidden guy is still alive and has started crawling towards his gun, which slid across the floor when he fell. Jimin gets up, picks up the wood and twirls it around like a Kendo sword, assessing the weight.
He lifts it up threateningly over the hidden guy’s head, his face now also twisted in anger, and—
BAM! The camera is out. One of the bullets must have hit it.
You had been paralyzed with fear watching this all unfold. When the camera goes out you are immediately thrown into action. “Yoongi! Grab a first aid kit and follow me.”
Yoongi stands, moving to the medical supplies he asks, “Agent, confirming, are you sure? We don’t know what’s happening and it may compromise all of the work we’ve done so far.”
“Yes.” Your voice is low and calm, completely belying the panic and fear you feel right now. You grab your gun, double check the clip and safety and tuck it back into your waistband. Yoongi is holding the kit, but doesn’t move. You open the van door, and look back at him. “Let’s go.”
The front door of the gallery is unlocked. All of the lights are off. You see Tae and the assistant peeking out of the office doors. They look scared, they can surely hear the gunshots. In the open loading dock, most of the neighborhood can. It’s only a matter of time before the local police arrive.
You gesture and mouth to them to leave, sliding around the gallery wall to the hallway that leads to the bomb shelter storage. If someone is patrolling the gallery looking for you, you need to be extra careful. You wait until they’re safely out to go down the dark corridor.
To get to the storage, you need to pass the hallway leading to the loading dock. You can’t see much as the exit signs are the only light and they’re creating long shadows. The video feed cameras aren’t night vision and you were so focused on the loading dock feed, you could have missed someone. You check as best you can and take a breath. There aren’t many places to hide so you’re likely to hear someone coming. You motion for Yoongi to follow and start to move.
You’re nearly to the bomb shelter door when you sense movement behind you, and you hear quick footsteps. Suddenly, a hand grabs you from behind and pulls you back. They get part of the turtleneck on your sweater, it’s like you’re being choked.
So there he is.
Your training kicks in and you thrust behind you, your heel landing square in his nuts. The wind knocked out of him, you spin around, pulling your gun out. The New Guy is bent over in pain and you whack the butt of your gun across his head. Suddenly he’s on the floor, breathing but not moving.
“Oh shit, that was kinda hot.” Yoongi saunters over. Of course he is unruffled in this scenario.
You roll your eyes. “They’ll have to do better than that to fuck with me.” Then you squat down and zip tie the New Guy’s hands and pat him down for weapons or wires. You take his gun and bring it with you. If there was someone else around, they would have come out already. These dudes are not subtle. You both head down the stairs to the bomb shelter storage.
You’re only there for a few minutes, but it feels like a million, when the door opens.
Jimin and Namjoon are carrying Jungkook in. His face is pale, blood soaking the side of his body, splashes of it on his head.
You rush over help as they help Jungkook sit down on a crate.
Jimin doesn’t notice you right away. It’s so incongruous. You come around a stack of paintings. “Jimin, Jimin, love, are you okay?” He’s pressing his jacket to Jungkook’s shoulder, blood on his hands, a spray of it across his shirt. His hands shake and the color drains from his face when he sees you.
“Jagiya, what are you doing here?” He sees your back as you bend over to look at Jungkook’s wound. “Why do you have two guns?” Yoongi has come over to help tend to Jungkook. “And who the fuck is this?” Jimin gestures to Yoongi.
You can’t speak, you hadn’t thought through this scenario.
“I’m Min Yoongi, Park. We’re here to help you and Jungkook. We’re taking you into the protective custody of the government of the United States of America.”
Jimin has stood up and moved away from Jungkook. His face is pale, eyes wide, mouth open.
Yoongi pulls out the first aid kit and is pouring something into the bullethole in Jungkook’s arm. Jungkook starts roaring, a flush running up his face, the tendons on his neck bulging. “This will stop the bleeding and sanitize the area until we can get you to a field surgeon.”
Yoongi is pulling out supplies to bandage Jungkook’s arm, commanding him, “Stay awake for me, JK, keep focused on me.”
“I hate that nickname,” he chokes out, tears of pain in his eyes.
“Good, I’ll keep annoying you to keep you conscious, okay JK?”
“I like you,” Jungkook gives him a weak smile. The anesthetic must be kicking in, but his face is still pale, almost grey. Yoongi smiles and pulls out a sling for his arm.
“The United States Government…” Jimin starts, still staring at you. Your eyes have not left his face.
“Jimin, I can explain…” You take a step towards him and he takes two steps back.
“What are you doing here? How did you know we’d be here?”
“I can explain, this is part of the plan—”
“Plan?” His voice and hands are shaking. “And you,” he turns slightly to point at Namjoon, his voice so steady and calm, he is in shock. “You brought me here, did you know she’d be here?”
Namjoon hasn’t moved, he’s looking at you, waiting to see if you’ll need him. And all you can do is hold your hands out and move slowly towards Jimin.
“Don’t. Please. Stay there. Because… you…” It’s like you can see the realization washing over his face, and his voice starts to ramp up.
He stops.
“Oh my god, you’re a spy. You’ve been spying on me. You’re the one who messed with my phone.”
You glance at Yoongi. “Kind of, I can explain.”
“I told you that I love you! I’m in love with you! And this whole time?” Jimin is shouting now and you are crying. Your lips smashed together, hands clasped in prayer, as if anyone or anything could get you out of this now.
“This whole time you’ve been lying to me? Who are you?” You have never seen him so angry. Actually it’s not anger, it’s hurt, he looks like he’s in pain.
“No, Jimin, I swear, I love you too, that is not a lie. I would never, I could never lie to you about that.”
He sees Namjoon looking at you. Joon hasn’t looked at Jimin at all.
“Oh my god, oh my fucking god. You know each other. And what happened in Moscow? What the fuck?” His head is back, hands in his hair. He stops talking and sinks to the ground.
“What the fuck.” This time it’s softer, he’s squatting on his knees, head in his hands, not looking at either of you.
And you, you are frozen, your worst nightmare happening around you, and you’re paralyzed.
“Jimin, I love you. That was not—”
Just then, Jin arrives at the door, “Hello!” He looks so chipper he’s borderline hysterical. He has blood on his head, he’s a little sweaty, but this guy really does look good in almost any situation.
Yoongi shouts. “Hyung! Oh my god, you’re alive! How?”
“Of course I am. I’m bulletproof.” Jin opens his torn shirt a bit, revealing the vest underneath. “And I’m far too pretty to die.”
Yoongi rolls his eyes at Jin’s smile, which immediately turns serious.
“But, sadly, no more time to talk about me. Park. Jeon. We need to get out of here. The New Guys brought reinforcements and are still outside looking for you. Also local police are en route. We have a helicopter to take you to Rammstein. We need to get to the roof.”
“Fuck me, is everyone a spy? Jesus. Rammstein?” Jungkook stands slowly, Yoongi holding the uninjured arm to help him up. Jungkook winces and starts walking towards Jin.
“Military transport, hospital for you, from there to protective custody.”
Jimin does not move. He is still staring at the ground, his eyes fixed, his breathing is slowing down. You know this face, he is thinking, processing. You also know that he is still very angry. You’ve stopped crying, and are just standing, staring at him. An unexpected feeling of calm washes over you, your heart beats: keep him safe, keep him safe, keep him safe.
“Park, you stay here. They find you and you die. Say your goodbyes. Now.” Jin’s voice is calm but stern.
You take a step towards him, but feel like you can’t get too close. Like your betrayal is a barrier pushing you back. “Jimin, I want to explain everything. But getting you out alive…that’s all that matters right now. You have to go.” Your voice is steady, loving, you can’t help it.
And with that, Jimin’s eyes snap to yours. In them a flash of recognition, of love, of the connection between you. He stands and strides to you, his arms moving up. You can’t tell if he’s going to kiss you or yell at you.
He does both.
Jimin’s expression is rough but his hands are gentle when they cup your cheeks and he gives you a bruising, passionate kiss. And then pulls back quickly, hands pulling away and clenching into fists as he slams his arms down.
“Fuck. I’m so confused, so angry.” You flinch involuntarily at his tone and his voice softens a little. “I need to—Was it all a lie?” The anger on his face clears for a second, he looks like he might cry.
“Park. We’re leaving.” Jin is at the door, taking Jungkook’s arm to support him and walking out the door.
“No. Never. I love you. I love you. That is real. That is true.” You reach out to touch him, hands hovering over his chest, but stop short.
His eyes pinch closed at your words. Then he looks you in the eye one last time, his face unreadable, almost as if he’s on the verge of saying something else. But he turns from you without another word, runs out the door and doesn’t look back.
You, Namjoon, and Yoongi all stand totally still, just breathing. It’s as if your body is made of cement. Heavy, immobile, numb.
Finally, Namjoon comes over to you and touches your arm. His voice sounds like it’s coming from far away. You can’t stop staring at the door. You can feel your heart beating all over your body, like it’s trying to jump out and follow him: Come back, come back, come back.
Yoongi’s phone buzzes. “It’s Jin. They’re in the chopper, everyone is okay.”
This breaks the spell, and all the pain comes flooding back. You nod and sink to the floor. Touching your lips where he kissed you, your hands shaking.
Namjoon puts his hand on your back, rubbing slow circles. “You did it, ________. You got him out. He’s okay. He’s alive.”
All you can do is sob.
You have to stay in Paris because what’s left of the New Guys and Jimin’s organization are watching you. Yoongi arranged it so that on the police records, Park Jimin and Jeon Jungkook had died that day at the gallery. You can’t let them think you’re anything but a girlfriend in mourning.
And you are. Jimin is alive, but you lost him. Was there even a chance to preserve what you had? It doesn’t bear thinking about, but it’s all you can think about.
You get a certified envelope addressed to Natalie Lee at the Vante Gallery. Tae hand delivers it to your apartment as you’d stopped going into the gallery. It contains a safety deposit key and an address.
When the bank manager leaves you alone in the private viewing room to open the rather large box, you don’t know what to expect. You’re assuming this is from Jimin but the two of you never discussed this. Maybe you weren’t the only one hiding things.
Inside the box are bricks of 500 Euro notes. Your hand flies to your mouth. This is several million in cash from the first glance. On top an envelope addressed to ‘Gertrude’.
Jagiya—if you’re reading this something has happened to me and we probably won’t see each other again. Please use this money to take care of yourself. I want to give you the whole world but this will have to do if I’m not around.
I need you to know I’ve never known anyone so smart, so strong, so brave or so beautiful. I was so lucky that you let me love you and gave me your love in return.
In Provence, I was also going to tell you who I really am. How I got this money. What I want to change. How I want to build a life with you. Forever. But it’s too late now. Just know that in my life, nothing mattered more than you. Please be happy, even if it can’t be with me.
I love you, so very, very much.
You sit on the floor of the bank room for a long time with your head in your hands. Jimin planned this for you in case he died. You try to focus on the positive—he is alive and protected. He’s safe.
It doesn’t really work. You don’t even deserve this. The Jimin who wrote this letter, he did all this to take care of you—that Jimin didn’t know what you’d done. How you’d betrayed him. This is for Natalie Lee, not you.
You stand up, you put the letter back in the box with the money and lock it up, leaving another part of your connection to Jimin behind.
You’re due to leave Paris in a few days and are walking around your old haunts. You pass by the gallery, the Vante name has been removed, all the grand spaces empty. Tae and his assistant turned business and life partner have bought a farm in Tuscany. Before you left, Tae made you coffee on the fancy machine. “You know, for a fake job, you did it really well.”
You smile and chuckle a bit, this is high praise from Tae. You feel lucky you had this chance to work with him, and you tell him so.
Tae smiles softly at you, those big eyes peering out from under that glorious head of hair.
“And if it’s any consolation, I’d never seen Jimin so happy. I didn’t know him for long, just a few years. But what you two had, it just radiated out of you both. It was beautiful.”
Jin didn’t come back to Paris. You know from Yoongi that he helped get Jimin and Jungkook placed into protection. And then had some time to recover mentally and physically from the loading dock fight. Yoonig said Jin’s next assignment might be undercover to investigate a drug ring in Bering Sea fishing boats.
You're still in touch with Yoongi. He will call you at random, always on a different number, to let you know if he’s heard from Namjoon or any other updates. On your last call, he ended on an uncharacteristic sentimental note. “I know you’re hurting. Believe it or not I know what it’s like to lose someone you love. But—” he sighs. “No one could have done better. You were brilliant this whole time.”
“Thanks, Yoongi.”
“Okay, that’s enough. Min out.”
He keeps your black card active.
So you go to the south of France—it is the summer after all—and spend two weeks at the Hotel du Cap Ferrat. Yoongi said it was okay. Mostly you just stand in the water staring at the horizon. You’ve stopped running through what you could have done differently, constantly replaying the last year. That final day. Now you’re just hoping to piece yourself back together enough to keep going.
At night, the empty space beside you feels like a missing limb.
When you return, you have 12 hours to do a final walk through of your apartment before you go back to the US. You have one piece of mail—a postcard from Busan with nothing written on it. The postmark is Paris, so that gives you a clue what it’s about. This is Spy Communication 101. You bet Jin set this up.
So you check it over for a message and see a website from the manufacturer in tiny print on the border. When you go to it, you’re prompted for a password. The hint is that it has 8 letters. You know it immediately—Gertrude.
The screen just shows text in the upper left corner of the screen. Your heart squeezes at the message.
You betrayed me, but now I understand more from our mutual friend about why. It broke my heart and it saved my life. I don’t know yet if I forgive you. But I do know I love you. Still and forever.
PS - Please keep what is in the box. I want you to have it.
You put your face in your hands. You don’t cry. This might be the best you could have asked for, right? Jin told him about what happened. Why you did what you did. And Jimin is alive, everyone is. He still loves you. Maybe he’ll forgive you. Most likely you’ll never know if he does, but just the thought is enough.
Still, you long for him so much, it’s like you can feel his arms around you, his lips pressing into your forehead, his hand holding yours. Is this what you’d been trying to avoid all those years you pushed people away? The times you didn’t open up to let someone really love you? To love them back? The way you cut off Namjoon?
What you know now, that you didn’t then, is that this pain is worth it. To have experienced being loved, to have felt the love that Jimin gave you, that is worth everything.
You run the self-destruct protocol in the Spy Closet and walk out for good.
You've gone back to The Farm to teach and have started a PhD in psychology. Your thesis is on emotional attachment in clandestine ops, so you can help other agents prepare better.
You think of Jimin every single day, you have since he left Paris. You still wear his bracelet. You’re still not sure when or if you’ll be ready to date anyone else.
You started writing him letters about what happened in Paris, about your family, your past. What happened in your day, how you found that mushroom galette recipe. How much you miss him. How much you love every bit of him, the mole on his right cheek, your favorite one on his left hip that you would kiss every time you saw it. The sound of his breath when you did. His crescent eye smile, his mochi cheeks. How he always knew the right thing to say or give, and when you just needed him and nothing else.
Letters you can never send because he’s been placed into super deep witness protection. Maybe three people in the world know where Park Jimin is, and one of them is him. Last you heard through Yoongi six months ago, Jimin and Jungkook left a site on Eastern Europe and were given new identities and everything.
They are gone for good.
Your love for him has not changed. The longing isn’t as painful these days, but it’s always there. You suppose it always will be.
One cold fall morning, you’re heading out for your morning run. As an instructor, you share an apartment with one other person, though they haven’t arrived yet, your last roommate went out on assignment three weeks ago. You open the door and walk smack into 6 feet of man.
It's Namjoon.
You shriek in surprise, delight, relief, you’re so happy to see him. He looks thinner and tired, dark smudges under those kind eyes, but he’s smiling back at you. Those dimples are as perfect as ever. He embraces you in a huge hug.
“Joon.” You hug him so tightly it hurts. “I’m so glad you’re here and you’re safe. Are you okay? What are you doing here?” Your eyes well up with relief.
“I’m okay, I had some time to recover. I am very, very glad to be back.”
“What and when and how and what the fuck?”
”Oh, uh, why do you ask?” He laughs and you swat at him. “Well, looks like I’ll have lots of time to tell you about it, roomie. I'm back to instruct linguistics for a bit.”
You hug him again. So glad to have someone to hold onto, someone who knows you, so glad it’s Namjoon. So eager to find out if all of that was worth it.
“Unless…” he sing-songs.
“Unless what?” You pull back and look at him. “Don’t be so cryptic, Kim, I get it we’re spies or whatevs but I haven't even had coffee yet.”
He grins, hugs you tight again, and whispers in your ear, “I know where he is, if you want to see him. He really, really wants to see you.”
A lightning bolt of shock and joy shoots through your body as you grab his sweater, smiling.
“I do, Joon, please. Take me to him.”
The End
A/N 2: THANK YOU for reading! For sticking with this story. Please let me know what you think, I love your comments and messages.
I am thinking there will most likely be an epilogue but I need some time for the characters to tell me how that will play out. Their love wins out in the end and I want to do their reunion some justice.
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eatjeanjin · a day ago
Room 202
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Summary: You didn’t expect apartment hunting was going to be this difficult. So when you arrived at your last stop for the day, you were hoping for the tour to just go smooth and quick. But things turned out for the better after you unexpectedly ran into an old friend.
Pairing: Yoongi x Reader
Type: One-shot
Genre: Fluff, Very light angst, Horror
Rating: Teen and Up
Warnings: Mentions of ghosts. Mentions of death. Light Swearing.
Word Count: 2760
NO-FACETOBER hosted by @bangtanbathhouse​
            ⤖ 「 Day 17 」 : Ghost
         ➻ Prompt Bonus: "Can some ghosts live upstairs?” —My Neighbor Totoro
This is also my submission for @thebtswritersclub​’s monthly project prompt, “Spooky”
A/N: This was so random and is therefore unedited. I just felt the strong urge to write and post something different thanks to the prompts above. So here we go. Thoughts and feedback are always welcome <333
**Please do not plagiarize or redistribute my works. I post my works either on Tumblr or on AO3. If this or any of my works are found on other sites, please let me know so we can report accordingly.**
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The sun was starting to set as you drove to the last apartment unit you scheduled to look at that clear, autumn day. You parked your car in one of the visitor parking spots in front of the building you were going to. 
The apartment complex, as you have researched beforehand, had three two-story buildings that held a total of 6 units of equal sizes in each, and a main building that held common areas such as the management office, the gym, and an indoor pool. It was built about 40 years ago and had always been used as a residential space. It was owned and maintained by the same family that established the business back then.
It was, however, going to be your last choice due to the fact that it was close to nowhere-- the closest grocery/convenience store was a 30 minute drive, the closest hospital/clinic was a good 45 minute to an hour drive from there, to cut it short, it was basically away from civilization. But it had the cheapest price tag compared to the other units you were looking at, and right now, you could use every help on that.
You took your phone from the hands-free holder in front of you and exited the navigation app. Your finger swept through the screen as you looked for the landlord’s number in your contacts and once you had found it, you quickly sent him a short message letting him know that you were there. His response came back a minute later saying, “I was out in town for an emergency meeting but I am on my way back and should be there in a few minutes! I apologize for the wait.”
The day had been tiring so, honestly, you appreciated the little pause this unintended wait was giving you. So you locked your phone and held it on top of your stomach as you laid back in your driver’s seat to shut your eyes for a bit.
After what felt like a few seconds, you were woken up by two gentle knocks against your car window. Your eyes flew open at the same time as your body shot up from its semi-lying position. You turned your head to look to your side and found a handsome man waving his hand with an equally handsome smile on his face on the other side of your door. 
The man looked so familiar but you couldn’t quite remember exactly who he was.
You lowered your car window down so you could ask, “Hi, can I help you?”
“More like I can help you. Y/N, right?” He said as he placed his arm on your car’s roof. “It’s me, Yoongi. Min Yoongi.”
You tried with every brain cell you could use up at that time to remember him by his name. It was definitely familiar, but your memory seemed to have chosen to fail you more than ever today.
Seeing how you were still trying to figure out who he was, Yoongi chuckled before spelling it out for you, “Middle school? Which was like fifteen years ago but we were seatmates for two school years.”
And that’s when it clicked. Of course, it was Yoongi-- the quiet kid that sat next to you in class. He mostly kept to himself and despite sitting next to you for almost two years, most of the conversations you had with him would revolve around school work and the weather. To your memory, he was a very nice kid and never said no to anything you needed help with for school. But in your last year of middle school, you mostly sat by yourself, the seat next to you was left empty for the rest of that school year. No one knew what happened, he was just… gone.
So it was a pleasant surprise for you to have found him smiling and doing well right in front of you. When all the memories of who he was flashed across your head, you smiled and excitedly switched the engine of your car off. You placed your phone in the back pocket of your jeans and got out to greet him properly. 
“Yoongi! It’s been a long time!” You extended your hand out to shake his, he gladly took it and shook your hand.
He took his hand away from yours to scratch the back of his head, his eyes drifting to another direction away from yours as he said, “Has it been? I lose track of time easily.”
“Yeah! It’s like a decade and a half.” You said with a chuckle that he returned with a similar one. “But what are you doing out here?”
“Oh,” he turned and stretched one of his arms out to point at a room in the building, “I live here. That unit by the corner up there’s been my home since I graduated college.”
Your eyes followed to where he was pointing to. From where you stood, you could see the last glass window on the second floor was shut tight and the white curtains that neatly lined its sides were tied to the wall next to it. And even with how it was twilight and the indoors were supposedly dark by this time of the day, the lights inside appeared to be switched off.
“Ah,” you nodded before turning back to him and asked, “did you just get here from somewhere?”
“Yeah, I was on my way up to my place and saw a car I’ve never seen before parked out here. We rarely get visitors so I got curious, then I saw it was you.” He explained. “What are you doing here sleeping in your car like that? You look exhausted.”
“I’ve been doing some apartment hunting in the area. And this unit’s the last one on my list for today. I’m just waiting for your landlord to get here and show me around.”
“That must be tiring. It’s hard to look for good places in this area.” He leaned closer so he could lower his voice to continue the rest of his response, “And our landlord’s really not known for being the punctual type.”
You laughed and couldn’t help but agree. “And yeah, unexpectedly, it really has been hard to look for a place here.” You rested your back against your car, feeling the exhaustion of how your day had been just from thinking about it.
“Well, I can at least show you the main areas of this building if you’d like? And if the landlord’s not back yet, you can wait in my place. Unless you like waiting out in the cold like this?”
You didn’t notice how cold you had been feeling until he brought it up. The jacket you had on was not enough to keep you warm, and now that the sun had completely set, you knew you wouldn’t feel well if you had just stayed in your car and waited there.
And that was how you ended up walking into the building with Yoongi. 
The hallways were a neat row of cream colored wallpapers that had a faded pattern of fleur de lis. It was well lit and you could see how they have been maintaining the place well. Another good point was that it was also a quiet hallway, apart from that one unit at the end-- where you could hear a loud television playing behind the much louder laughs and shouts by what sounded like kids. Apart from this, and how the heating system seemed to be taking its sweet time to warm you up, the interior looked promising.
“Do you know which unit number you will be looking at?” Yoongi asked from beside you.
“Oh,” you scrambled to fish your phone out of your pocket and looked for the text message from your landlord. “It’s room 202.”
“Ah, that’s beside mine! And lucky you.” He continued to walk towards the stairs as you followed. “The first floor units can be a mess. I used to live in a unit on the first floor in the other building, and I also heard from other tenants that there’s always some problem with them.”
“What, like ghosts?” You joked.
He chuckled but nodded, “Believe it or not, that’s actually one common complaint I heard from fellow tenants. They seem to linger on the first floors of the buildings.”
“Okay, not that I believe in them but can’t some ghosts live upstairs?”
“Good question, but as far as I know, no. Maybe their legs are too dead to go up.”
You laughed at how easy the conversation felt. Now that you remembered it, Yoongi was someone you were always comfortable talking to about literally anything. He was always soft spoken and only responded when he needed to, but he was a great listener and that made you trust him and be yourself around him.
While the two of you were in the middle of laughing at his last comment, he stopped in front of a door that had the numbers “202” in its top mid-section with a peephole right below it. Yoongi grabbed the doorknob to open it, but it didn't twist all the way.
“Of course,” he brought his palm up to his forehead, literally face palming himself. “It’s locked and only the landlord has the key to an empty unit.”
You couldn’t help but, again, laugh at his silliness. He laughed with you before he said, “I’m sorry, I’m such a bad host.”
“Oh please,” you unconsciously brought your hand up to pat one of his shoulders. Even from that slight touch, you could feel how strong his muscles felt underneath his flannel shirt. And that’s when you were reminded, he may be the same Yoongi you knew before, but this Yoongi is also a man who’s grown up… really well. You shook your head and you knew you had to say something before he notices how you have been checking him out, “You’ve been nothing but a great host.”
“Why, thank you.” He smiled as he said. “I’m glad I’ve been somewhat helpful to you.”
“I was just thinking about that, and you’ve always been helpful to me.”
“Was I really?” He answered and you could see how his cheeks were turning red from the compliment. 
“Yes, it’s what I remember you by.”
“Well, let me help you out again and have you wait for Mr. Kim at my place?”
“Yeah, I’ll take you up on that offer too.”
Yoongi started to walk over to the next door up the hallway you were both in. He put the key he took out from one of his pockets into the doorknob before he twisted it open. He pushed the door open and was about to step in but stopped. He turned around and was looking into your curious eyes, “Hey, Y/N?”
“Thank you, sincerely.”
“I should be saying that to you.”
He only gave you another smile in response before he motioned for you to enter his home. You carefully walked past him and when you were both in, the door shut behind him. You were met with the darkness of his apartment, with the moonlight as the only source of lighting you could depend on to not step on your own foot-- or worse, Yoongi’s. 
You could hear him shuffling to take his shoes off from behind you, before you heard him flick the light switch on.
And again.
Despite his multiple attempts, the darkness was still the only thing you could see.
“Shit.” He muttered before walking past you. “I’ll be back, I’m just going to check out the circuit box in the other room. Please make yourself comfortable.” He pointed at his couch that sat next to his window. You could see it and the path you needed to take to get there thanks to the moonlight, but everything else was pitch black.
“Oh, okay.”
Once he saw you were sitting on his couch, he walked off into the darkness.
While waiting for him, you decided to busy yourself with your phone. You didn’t realize that you got a text message from the landlord saying he got stuck in traffic but is almost there followed by a quick apology for his tardiness. Normally, you would’ve just left. But running into Yoongi made up for all of it. In fact, you wanted to catch up with him more which was why you decided to just wait with him here as well.
As you mindlessly scrolled through your phone further, sleep was starting to take over your consciousness. Eventually, you gave in. You sat back as you held your phone on top of your stomach and rested your head against the back of Yoongi’s couch-- finally letting sleep take over you.
“Ms. Y/L/N?” An indistinct voice called you awake.
You opened your eyes and found yourself lying on your side on Yoongi’s couch. You looked around and saw how the lights were still out, but in front of you was a middle aged man who was far from the man you were with… a while ago. How long were you asleep for anyway?
As you got up, you realized the man was shaking you awake, his hand was still on one of your arms. “Oh my, you’re so cold! I’m so sorry for making you wait for so long. There was an accident on the way here.”
“That’s okay.” You brought your hand up to rub at your throbbing head. “Where’s Yoongi?”
“Yoongi?” The man stood up and looked puzzled as he tried to recall the name you had just mentioned.
“Min Yoongi?” You stood up and exclaimed, hoping to help him remember. “He lives here?”
“Oh! Mr. Min.” He clapped his hands after successfully remembering. But his face turned somber as he continued, “Mr. Min has not lived here for a while. It’s been a year since he passed.”
You were frozen in your spot and you felt as if all energy you had left was drained out of you in an instant. You almost lost your balance but you were able to keep yourself up before you did. It was hard to believe what you just heard, so you had to ask him to confirm, “Passed as in, he’s dead?”
“Yes, it was quite tragic. He was doing really well, having graduated first of his class in college, he was given job offers left and right. But the boy settled here and took a job from that engineering company in the next town over. If it weren’t for his frail body, he would’ve gone so far.”
You were speechless. The story you had just heard was too detailed for it to be a lie. But the Yoongi you were talking to earlier felt too real to be unreal too.
The landlord walked you out of the unit and locked the door behind you. But seeing how you were still in shock, he asked, “I’m sorry, did you know him?”
“He was a good friend.” You snapped out of your thoughts and turned to him. “Um, is it okay if we reschedule the tour tomorrow? I’m quite tired after today.”
“I thought you already walked through the unit seeing how you were lying comfortably on the couch in there?”
“No, this isn’t 202 is it?”
The man lifted his hand to point at the number on the door, and sure enough, they clearly said 202. “Mr. Min used to live next door, but his family bought the unit and it’s his brother who now uses it. He rarely comes here though, they all live in the city nearby.”
The landlord was understanding enough when you kindly declined the unit. It would’ve been a great pick, but everything about the building would remind you of Yoongi too much. Of how he was when you met him. Of how he could have been if he were still there. As you started your car’s engine, you took your phone out of your pocket and placed it on the hands free holder in front of you. You opened your phone and was about to go to your navigation app but you froze when you saw a notification pop up from the top of the screen. It was a message from an unknown number.
You clicked on the notification and you were in shock after reading the message, clearly knowing to whom the message had come from.
“I’m sorry. And thank you for spending some time with me. Sincerely.”
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venusiangguk · 2 months ago
the art of doubting | jjk (m)
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>>pairing: jungkook x reader / dilf!jk x grocery store clerk!oc
>>genre: friends with benefits, smut, a lil bit of fluff, angst
>>word count: 17k -.-
>>warnings: dom jk, sub oc, age gap, dilf jk stuff: asking for permission, saying thank you, sexual tension, gross domestic flirting 🙄, push up kisses, orgasms, oc getting overwhelmed bc jock is too gewd <3, oral (m), rimming !!, mirror sex, one (1) spank, jreampie <3, tummy bulging (kinda? he presses on her tum to feel it?), praise, dirty talk, encouragement, showering together, kisses 😚, ex wife has arrived, mentions of divorce, a lil bit of sad talk about nari :(, nari is two now!!, misunderstandings, arguments, jk lowkey got some issues he needs to work thru lol, he thinks in extremes, oc is in love </3, a very drastic 180 occurs
>>notes: ex wife arrives and literally makes everything explode lmao
this is part of my dilf jk series that can be found on my masterlist
>>summary: seeds of doubt are planted and unfortunately they grow faster than love. things with jk fall apart.
Soft grunting groans filter through the air as you slowly make your way down the stairs to the lower floor. Not really a basement, more of an indoor workout cave.
Jeongguk’s shirtless on the bench, pulling weighted arms down on the machine, the muscles in his back rippling and straining with every pull down. He sees you in the mirror as soon as you walk in, his eyes lighting up and a small winded laugh puffs from his chest.
“Hey— hang on… almost— done…”
You shift on your feet a little, watching him through the reflection. The sight you see is a little too obscene to just be a work out, you feel like. He’s not sweaty yet, probably just started, but his face is a little red from the excretion, and his lats are on display as he does the repetitive workout over and over with clenched teeth and breathy grunts until his body gives out. He catches his breath for a moment, shakes his arms out.
“You shouldn’t leave your door unlocked,” you say, tiptoeing over to him and stepping over the plastic baby weight on the mat. “Also why do you do so many at once… looks miserable.”
Jeongguk laughs softly, looks up at you with his doe-eyes when you’re close enough to rest a hand on his shoulder. He’s warm to the touch.
“I usually don’t but I’m the only one here, and I knew it was you coming. Also my phone is charging upstairs so if you texted when you got here like normally, I would not have known.” he explains. “I tend to focus more on longer sets with lighter weights, than shorter sets with heavier weights because it helps keep muscles lean… I’m not trying to bulk up right now.”
You tell him that that makes sense even though you really have no clue. Just know that whatever he does to stay fit works. “Nari at her mom’s?” you ask.
He nods, standing up to go over to the pull up bar on the side of the machine. Wiping his hands on the tiny workout shorts he’s wearing, he jumps a little, and then wiggles his fingers on the bar to get a good grip. “All yours till Friday,” he says, cutely.
Rolling your eyes playfully, you correct him. “Till tomorrow afternoon. I have work… might get a raise soon.”
You wander around a little as Jeongguk goes on about how you should already be getting paid more considering you have a college degree, but you tune him out, knowing he’s trying to be on your side and make you feel better. A marketing degree won't get you far in a grocery aisle, and you both know that, but it’s sweet of him to try.
Instead, you opt to take in your surroundings. You’ve been all around his house of course, but you’ve not spent much time in the workout dungeon.
It’s fully equipped, and fully mirrored, with the flooring being that of wrestling mats to cushion dropped weights or baby stumbles.
On one side of the room there’s an elliptical, a treadmill, a rowing machine, a bench press, basically one of everything that you would normally see in a gym. But on the other side, blocked off by a baby safety gate, is a mini little workout zone filled with mini weights, those foam blocks that you normally find in a child’s gymnastics zone, and a little dance bar along the mirrored wall.
You smile, thinking about Nari holding onto the bar and doing that funny little squatting move of hers. “Are you going to put her in dance?”
He looks at you through the mirror, no longer doing pull ups, but just watching it seems. Seated on one of the benches with a water bottle in his hand, resting between his spread legs. “Ballet I think,” he says, “Me and her mom were talking about it. She thinks it’ll be good for Nari’s coordination…” He gives you a humorously exasperated look, “I just think she’ll look cute in a tutu. Though I suppose coordination would be helpful… she’s a bit clumsy.”
“She is only 2,” you point out, walking over to his side of the room again. “Was the party fun?”
It was on Saturday, just a few days ago. Jeongguk said it was fairy themed much like most of the baby’s things. You saw the pictures that he sent you, Nari adorned in a pair of tiny pink wings, her cake in the shape of a mushroom. The kids all got tiny bottles of ‘pixie dust’ to play with, shimmery bubbles floating through the air.
There was a woman in one of the pictures, blowing a bubble into Nari’s delighted face, her own smile matching that of the baby. She obviously wasn’t the focus of the photo, and you doubt that Jeongguk even realized when he sent it. But you already knew who the woman was anyway. The pictures around Jeongguk’s house were enough to tell you, even if he never explicitly stated it. And you know it makes sense and that it’s normal for her to be there, with Jeongguk at their daughter's birthday, but something settled into the pit of your belly when you looked at that picture. You haven’t been able to shake it yet.
Jeongguk’s voice brings you back. “Yeah it was fun, you got the pictures right?” He seems excited. You laugh a little, reminding that yes, you did see. You responded to them after all. He grins sheepishly as he goes to another machine, “Don’t be sassy, or I’ll eat the piece of cake we saved you.”
His sentence warms your heart. The fact that he was thinking about you, keeping you in mind. Reminds you of the bittersweet message you received from him on Saturday while he was at the party.
Wish you could have come
It took some effort, and you’ve done your best to not think about the fact that you could have, if he had asked you to. Saturday was your day off.
“What flavor is it?”
“Funfetti, obviously.” Jeongguk rolls his eyes, grunts quietly as he does another rep.
“Obviously,” you mime, with a small chuckle.
Conversation flows smoothly, just like always, everything seamless between you both. While most people wouldn’t probably get annoyed at someone hovering, Jeongguk seems happy to be near you, glad for the company. You sit beside him as he gets to the ground for some push ups.
He gets about three in before you’re laying flat on your back, boredom making a thought pop into your head.
“Do them over me.”
Jeongguk falters mid-way up, glancing at you with a suspicious look. “Why?”
“I wanna help,” you reason.
“Not sure being on top of you will be helpful,” he murmurs, but appeases you nonetheless, side walking on his hands and the balls of his feet until he’s over you.
You both give each other closed lip smiles as you try not to laugh. Jeongguk lowers himself, and you sneakily place a sweet kiss on his cheek.
“I knew you didn’t want to be helpful,” he says, his voice laced with faux annoyance. He does another one and receives another kiss. “You want to be distracting.”
“I’m not being distracting, I’m providing incentive.”
“I can’t even go all the way down, your tits are in the way.”
“You are so ungrateful.”
He smiles with his eyes as he goes down again, his nose brushing yours as he nuzzles into your cheek briefly. “And how are you providing incentive?”
You hum at the feel of his warm breath on your ear. “The longer you hold your plank, the longer you get to kiss me.”
“Who says I wanna kiss you?” he teases, voice soft as a feather as he does another push up.
“You always want to kiss me,” you tell him, just as quiet, tension radiating off of you as you readjust yourself, your legs opening so that the next time he drops down, he’s not just over you, but between your thighs as well. “And you haven’t yet…” you remind him as you drag your acrylics over his bare back, smiling at the way he shudders and at the way his arms buckle.
He grins, looking at you like you’re unbelievable, yet everything he wants right now. “Between you and Nari, I can never get anything done.”
You hum, “I just think you need to reevaluate your priorities, maybe.”
“And what do you think my priorities should be, __?” he whispers, eyes searching your face, lingering on your lips, a fond look coloring his features.
“Well, right now,” you start, looping your arms around his neck, “I think you should really focus on that plank, and on that kiss you’re dying to give me.”
Your teeth click before your lips lock because of how much you both are smiling.
But once lips lock, it doesn’t take much for Jeongguk to collapse onto you. Doesn’t even try to hold the plank, instead just melding his body to yours, the inside of your legs clamping around his waist. He goes from having his hands flat on the mat to bracing himself on his forearms, his knees hitting the mat between your legs. You use some of your weight to bring him closer, the slowly swelling front of his work out shorts pressing into the crotch of your leggings.
You work your hips, rolling them slowly up into him, in time with the slow, molten kisses he licks into your mouth.
Jeongguk’s always easy for you, but today he seems to be fighting himself, playfully fighting how bad he wants you. It’s the principle of the thing. To prove a point. The point being that you’re distracting, his weakness. His hips rolling into yours, only to pull back. He lips pressing hard against yours, only to pull back. Just for him to do it over again, just for him to give in like you both know he wants to and will. It's after a particularly hard rut against you that he peels his lips from yours, panting softly, how worked up he is so apparent in the way he can’t stop his hips.
“You’re going to kill me,” he whispers, his nose brushing against your cheek before he sinks his teeth into the apple of it like he just can’t help it, can’t get enough of you.
Your manicured hands cup his cheeks, as you nod and guide him back into a wet kiss. “Want you in my mouth,” you moan against his lips.
Jeongguk pulls back with a light blush on his cheeks. “Are you sure? I was just working out–”
A kiss cuts him off as you slowly start to sit up, him going with you. “Barely broke a sweat, and I don’t care,” you tell him, hands gripping at the elastic of his waistband, “just want you.”
Jeongguk laughs softly, grabs your eager hands, maneuvering to his feet and pulling you with him. It’s then that he strips you of your shirt, your bra. His hands come to cup your bare tits, rolling them in his palms as he brings his lips back to you, all while he toes off his shoes, as well as his socks with a little difficulty and stumbling, but not without sweet laughter filtering in through the kisses.
He makes his way down as he pushes your pants down, his lips latching to a nipple, making you mewl under the light flicks and the soft sucks, hands coming to his hair to keep your balance as you rid yourself from the stretchy material. His hair gets pulled when you’re free, and he’s biting his lip at the tugging when he blinks his eyes open to look at you again.
“Sit on the bench,” you tell him, hand slipping from his locks, and down to his flushed chest. You press lightly, backing him up to the benchpress machine that’s not too far behind him.
The bench is propped up, a reclined sitting position under the secured bar above, resembling more of a chair than the typical flat board of most bench presses.
He gingerly sits down, keeps his eyes on you the whole time, watching as you lower yourself to your knees, settling between his open ones. His cock is hard and pink, up and laying flat on his lower tummy. It pulses when you place your hand on his thighs, long nails running down.
You both smile a little because its funny in a stupid way, but your pussy pulses too, getting slick between you legs at the way Jeongguk responds to you. How eager he is for you, how the mere feel of your hands on his thighs is enough to make him throb in anticipation of what else is going to come, of how good you’re going to make him feel.
“Wanna make you feel good,” you say quietly. Your gaze flicking between his face and the flushed, shiny head of his cock in your hand.
He bites his lip when you slowly start to work your hand on him, his foreskin sliding over the wet tip of his cock, and when you rub the pad of your thumb on the under part of the head, you watch as his head tilts back, his eyes slipping shut, and his mouth exhaling a soft sigh. You squeeze your thighs together at the sight. Jeongguk is so responsive, pliant as he settles into the bench, hot and heavy in your hand.
“Put your mouth on it,” Jeongguk requests, eyes lazily shut.
When you oblige, Jeongguk sucks in a sharp breath, his back arching a little off of the bench behind him, his hips pulling back like the feel of your lips suckling on him is too much, too good.
You pull off with a little pop, holding his cock close smiling against his length. “Why are you trying to get away from me?”
Jeongguk gives you a crooked grin, looking down his nose at you with hazy eyes. “Keep going,” he says softly.
Humming against his length you begin to place heavy, wet kisses down his cock all the way to his balls. The kind where your tongue licks him before your lips suction softly. Then you lick all the way back up with the flat of your tongue, your lips wrapping around him, your head bobbing a few shallow times. Jeongguk keeps breathing those sweet, soft moans. So relaxed and relishing in the way you suck him off. He’s not pulling away anymore, instead trying to keep from bucking into your mouth, you can tell by the way his lower belly tenses.
When you go down a little farther, sucking his balls into your mouth, you moan at the way he whines, at the way his legs subconsciously open wider as you alternate between lapping at him, and teasing him with light circles from the tip of your tongue. He breathes praise, telling you how good it feels. It makes you want to make him feel even better.
His legs spreading wide for you gives you the idea to trail a little farther down, stray off the path of your usual blowjobs. You start with your fingers, something he’s used to and loves. Massaging that spot behind his balls with deliberate little pets, you moan softly when he pulls his legs back just slightly, barely lifting his feet off the ground so you can touch him better.
His brows are pinched, and his mouth is open in a silent moan, his expression one of pleasure and arousal as he brings his hand down to his cock. He slowly tugs at himself, watching as you bring your mouth back to his balls. He’s nodding, eager and encouraging, his hand speeding up.
“You’re–,” he moans, his head rolling back along with his eyes, “My baby.”
Laughing a little you pull back, focusing on just massaging him. He seems extra responsive today, his praise and sentences jumbled and hardly coherent.
“Keep licking,” he moans.
You hum, going to appease him but right before you suck his balls into your mouth you pause. He notices, brings his eyes to you with a questioning, needy gaze, his hand still working over his cock.
You place a chaste kiss to his balls and then one a little lower. Jeongguk jolts, and questions you with a gaze, but he doesn't stop you.
In all honesty, you don't know what you’re doing, have no clue why you even want to, but the desire to make Jeongguk feel good and curiosity spurs you on. He likes your fingers, maybe he’ll like your mouth there too.
Your eyes hold a question in them as you gently, wordlessly push his legs back some more, more of him on display than you’ve ever seen before. Jeongguk grows a little red, but his hand hasn’t stopped, and he just pulls his bottom lip between his teeth, watching you as you kiss on the backs of his thighs.
He’s tense, like he’s just waiting for you to do it. With your breath hot on his taint, you look at him once more, and he gives the slightest nod, permission to continue. His eyes are heavy and he licks over his red bitten lips, and when you press another one of your chaste kisses against him, his brows furrow and his mouth parts and he cranes forward, like he wants it so bad, is so eager that he can't contain it.
The first lick over him makes him gasp, and he breathes the most salacious, “Yeah–” as his legs get pulled back even more.
You smile at him with your tongue out, giving tentative licks to that spot he loves. Your hands are on his cheeks and you pull back some, looking at him with a grin.
Jeongguk groans, a laugh coloring it as his head falls back to the bench kind of like he’s a little bashful about being so worked up. His free hand pushes through his hair before rubbing over his face, eyes finally meeting yours again. “You’re so hot down there,” he tells you.
You purr, pressing your thumbs into his cheeks opening him up a little more. A quick wet lick is placed over his hole and he breathes out a harsh sigh, craning his neck so he can look at you, his tummy tensed.
“Is this what you want?” you murmur against him, getting a little more confident, the tip of your tongue flicking over the cinched muscle.
“Yeah, fuck…” he whispers.
The hand he has on his cock squeezes at the base for a second before he makes a ring with his thumb and index finger focusing on the tip of his cock with quick little strokes. The hand he doesn’t have busy pulls his thigh back a bit more.
As your tongue works over him, he chants over and over again, tells you how hot you look, how good your mouth feels, how wants you to keep going. It’s when you point your tongue a little, just barely pressing into his rim that his hand goes to the back of your head.
He holds your face to his ass, pushes you into him as he melts into the chair, his chest rising and falling with deep breaths that lilt up at the end.
“Good girl,” Jeongguk moans, his eyes blinking open hazily as he looks down at you again.
Your eyes smiles at him as you continue to work your tongue, little wet noises willing the air as you eat him out. When he removes his hand, you lick from his hole to his balls, repeating the action a few times, making Jeongguk almost tremble.
“Your dirty girl?” you ask him quietly in response to the praise he just gave you, giving him tiny little kitten licks over his hole.
He gives you a lustdrunk smile, licking over his lips. “Yeah, all mine.”
“What do you want?” you kiss into his taint, eyes big as you look up at him.
“Just a little more,” he whispers, his thumb spreading the precum leaking from his tip.
You get a hold of the hand on his pulled back thighs, guide it back to the back of your head once again. “Take it then,” you tell him, “take more from me.”
Jeongguk lets out a shaky breath, biting his lip as he pushes your mouth back to his hole. “Look so hot licking my ass,” he breathes, barely audible over the wet licks you’re giving him. He kinda shakes your head, his brows furrowed and his jaw clenched as he sucks a breath through his teeth. “Oh my god–”
When you point your tongue and press past the little resistance, Jeongguk’s mouth drops open and his brows arch upwards, and his eyes roll a little before he squeezes them shut, pushing and pulling on your head just barely, making your tongue fuck him.
It's kind of abrupt when he pulls you back by the hair, his legs coming down again. It’s abrupt when he kisses you. Deep, his tongue licking into your mouth like he doesn't care that you were just licking into him, making him pant, making his cock leak. It’s abrupt when he breaks the kiss. He’s still close, breathing you in, giving you one last soft little peck before he leans back again, his demeanor expectant.
Both of his hands are on your head, and he’s guiding you down, taking what he wants from you just like you told him to. His cock is so hard, flushed and angry looking as it stands, just waiting for your mouth.
It's a swift and quick motion when he pushes your head down, the tip hitting the back of your throat almost immediately. He whines softly, and rocks his hips up while pulling you down onto him, glucking noises filling the air as he fills your mouth.
His length and girth are a lot to take, your eyes prickling with tears as he holds your head down, but when you hear him whisper, so desperately, “Love when you choke on my cock,” it’s so worth it.
He sounds so unabashedly fucked out, like your mouth is the best thing he’s ever felt, like it's the only thing he ever wants to feel for the rest of his life. He’s being a little rougher with you, a little more crude with his words like he’s losing himself in you, losing his control. It makes you moan around him, wanton and needy.
His hips start to fuck up into you mouth again, his hands holding your head in place, keeping you from pulling away. He knows you wouldn’t have, always so well behaved, almost obedient in the way that you please him. But, even so, he just likes having his hands on you, likes feeling the way you struggle to take him.
“That’s a good girl…” he groans, soft and focused, his hips snapping up again. “You’re such a good girl…”
He holds you down once more, shakes your head by the hair so that his tip rubs against your throat, and then he’s pulling you up, kissing you filthily again, not even giving you time to properly catch your breath.
“Get against the mirror,” he says against your lips.
The heat from your hands makes the glass under your hands fog up, and the heat from Jeongguk behind you makes you flush, the heaviness of his cock rutting against the swell of your ass as he wastes no time getting into position.
At the first feel of his tip rubbing between your folds, grazing over your clit, you gasp and your arms buckle. Your legs spread naturally, but Jeongguk makes a tutting noise, and rests one palm on the outside of your hips, the other between your shoulder blades applying light pressure.
“Keep them together, but bend a little– yeah, perfect,” he breathes.
He takes a step back, looks at your ass pushed out for him, your puffy pussy peeking out from between your legs with your clit tucked inside. You’re drippy, shiny and smooth, your slick leaking out, making it sound lewd and wet when he pushes inside.
Your head hangs at the first thrust, Jeongguk pushing in slow but with a steady motion, and you exhale a soft puff.
He keeps his hips against your ass, his cock sheathed by your pussy. His hands grabbing and squeezing, roaming over your body while he waits just a bit for you to get used to him inside of you. Then he’s pulling out, just the tip of his cock still tucked inside, before he fucks into you hard and fast. It knocks the breath out of you, makes your hands on the mirror slip a little.
“F-fuck,” you whisper, your head still hanging, eyes squeezed shut as he fills you up.
Jeongguk’s eyes go from watching his cock slide into you, to the mirror. He moans, the contrast of his tattooed arm on your bare back as he rocks his hips into you is so pretty, just like the way that your shoulder blades push out, how your tiny waist feathers out to the swell of your hips. The fatty part of your hips ripples and pillows against him everytime he thrusts, dull slaps echoing with the whiny moans he punches out of you with his cock.
“Look baby,” he tells you.
It takes a little bit of effort, but when you lift your head, you’re met with a disheveled, messy version of yourself. There’s tears in your eyes, the feel of Jeongguk’s fat cock pushing and pulling in and out of you is overwhelmingly good, his girth rubbing against the sensitive walls of your cunt. Your makeup is messy, your under eyes dark with smudged mascara, the coverage around your mouth and on your nose completely gone, your lips kissed swollen and red.
Eyes moving to Jeongguk behind you through the mirror, you see the way he’s watching you watch him. Watching as your expression changes, how your eyes flutter when he hits that spot inside of you that makes your knees lock, makes your breath stutter and your brows furrow in pleasure.
“There,” you breathe, “God, you make me feel so good, baby.” Your hands slip down the mirror again, the force of his thrusts and the pleasure that’s curling in your belly already making it hard to hold yourself up. You squeeze your eyes shut to keep the tears from spilling over.
Jeongguk picks up the pace of his hips, his hands gripping yours, his thumbs digging into the little dimples at the bottom of your back, a perfect match, like they were placed there just for him. It’s almost like your body was meant for him, crafted with him in mind, fitting together so flawlessly that it’s hard for him to remember there were people before you, people that made him feel good before you did. Because when he’s inside of you, when he’s with you, it’s like that’s all there is. Just an endless loop of you and him, you and him, no beginning or end, no past or future, like the world is only as big as the room you’re in.
“Faster– getting close...”
Your voice echoes in his ears, and he realizes that his thrusts slowed while he got lost in thought. He clears his throat, gets back to work, back to fucking you like he means it, it’s the last time he ever will.
“You always cum so fast when I fuck you like this,” Jeongguk muses, biting his lip when he sees the way your tits jiggle in the mirror.
He expects you to be snarky, make a comment about how he’s smug, too cocky, but instead you nod your head, hands forming fists against the mirror. It’s airy and sexy when you say, “Yeah, you fuck me the best, love your cock… wanna cum for you…”
And it reminds him of the first time he fucked you. How you said more or less the same thing.
“Yeah, wanna fuck you all the time. Love your fat cock…”
That was 6 months ago. It’s not that long but it is at the same time. It feels like only a few seconds and a lifetime in the same breath. Jeongguk feels something stir in his belly, something mix with the steady build up.
“Yeah?” he asks, his voice soft and dreamy– almost fond, juxtaposing the way he’s fucking you. “What do you say?”
You wait a few moments for your body to get there, your head falling again like it's getting hard to support yourself. You’re chanting softly; pornographic ‘yeah’s’ and lewd mewls spilling from your lips nonstop.
“Fuck…” you start, “can I… can I cum?”
It sounds like it's hard for you to form words, so it's a little mean of Jeongguk to spring something new on you. But he can’t help himself.
“Who are you asking?”
A confused sound that turns to a moan at the tailend colors the air.
“Who am I, baby? What should you call me when I’m fucking you like this?” Jeongguk asks, patient and gentle.
You say the first thing that pops into your head.
A sharp slap echoes in the room, and you’re sure there’s a red palm print on your ass. You cry out, whiny as Jeongguk leans over you, his voice in your ear.
“You know better than that,” he says, a little out of breath, but still stern. “Try again. Be polite.”
At this point you’re so close that you’re crying softly, your knees turning inward as you squeeze your legs together as if that will keep your orgasm at bay until he says you can cum. You try to listen to his words, connect the dots and finally it comes to you.
“Sir–” you gasp, “Sir, can I cum?”
Jeongguk groans a little, feels his cock jerk inside of you, the title making that hot feeling burn within him.
“Yes,” he moans, “Look at yourself while you do, want you to see how pretty you look when you cum just from my cock.”
Hardly able to keep yourself up at all, even with the help of the mirror, you tell him in a whiny voice that you can’t, that it’s too hard.
You hear him coo before your world spins a little bit, Jeongguk wrapping an arm around your tummy, pulling you to his chest. His body is burning behind you, and his breath is hot in your ear as he pants, his hips punching into you from behind. The arm that he doesn't have wrapped around your torso comes up, forearm resting between your tits, fingers getting a hold of your jaw making you look straight ahead.
The sight looking back at you is indecent. So filthy that you and Jeongguk both falter, a soft moan echoing in unison.
“Look at you,” Jeongguk purrs.
“Please,” you cry, simply because you don't know what else to say, overtaken with pleasure.
“I already said you could cum, baby,” he reminds you.
And it's like it's all too much and not enough at the same time. Like the push and pull of his cock into your cunt is too good yet exactly what you need, like his hands on you are overstimulating but without them you wouldn’t feel that safety, that feeling of being adored and taken care of. Like his voice in your ear encouraging you is too nice but if he stopped talking to you you wouldn’t know wouldn’t know what to do, that it’s okay.
“Jeongguk,” you cry. Like actually cry. No longer able to hold in the tiny, overwhelmed sobs.
He presses into the side of your head, kisses you as well as he can when he’s jackhammering his hips into your cunt. He shushes you, and his hold on your jaw softens, his other hand petting over your front soothingly. “I know, baby, I know,” he coos.
And it just makes you cry harder. “I can’t– It’s– it’s too much–”
“Yes you can,” he whispers hotly, his eyes on you in the mirror. “You can do it, be good, cum for me…”
He uses the hand he has on your front to press you back into him, closer if that were even possible, but with the slight pressure on your lower belly he feels something.
The moan that falls from his lips is so shameless and lewd. It’s not loud, but more of a soft, wondrous keen.
His cock thrusting into you can be felt with the light push into your belly, and it unlocks something in him. He grabs one of your hands that’s clutching at his forearm and brings it down, his own hand on top of yours pushing so you can feel his cock inside of you too.
“Feel that?” he asks, nipping at your ear lightly, “So hard for you, so deep that you can feel me through your belly... Let go for me, baby, wanna feel you cum on my cock while I can feel myself inside you from the outside.”
Maybe it’s feeling him from the outside, or maybe it's the way he always manages to keep that soft, gentle way with you no matter what. Even if he gets worked up, losing himself a bit– he never leaves you, never becomes too harsh or rough. He’s always the perfect mix of both, and that’s what makes the pleasure that’s been ebbing in you wash over your body.
You tremble in his arms and soft, desperate whimpers get exhaled as you cum. No warning, but Jeongguk knows, feels the way you contract around him as he slows his hips a little, giving you longer, unhurried thrusts. He lets you bathe in it, the dreamy, dizzying high that makes you delirious as you thank him with teary words.
“That’s my girl, so good for me all the time… knew you could do it,” he says, his hips gradually starting to pick up again, his thrusts sloppy.
Vision is a little blurry when you blink your eyes, but the sight of Jeongguk wrapped around you, his face in your neck biting and moaning into your skin–
“Please cum inside of me,” you beg.
“Yeah, gonna–” he tells you, his teeth sinking into that spot between your shoulder and neck. You gasp when he sucks, knowing that there will be a mark, and you bring your hand up to his hair, keeping him close.
Jeongguk switches from those harsh sucks and bites to sweet kisses up your neck to your jaw. His fingers on your face urge you to look over your shoulder, and the distance between your lips and his is too small, too tempting for him to not take it.
He kisses you, desperate just like his thrusts are becoming until he's right at the crest.
“Gonna cum,” he pants against your lips, his hand on your tummy still pushing to feel himself.
You nod, still looking at him behind you, placing soft kisses on his lips at first and then wherever you can reach until he succumbs to the pleasure, his eyes closing and his head lulling back a little before he’s pressing into your sweaty hair, like he wants to hide yet stay close to you. He cums with a gasp, cock buried deep, throbbing with every shot of white that paints you from the inside.
As soon as he catches his breath, he kisses you.
He kisses you again and again and again.
There’s something so intimate… so vulnerable about letting someone wash you.
When there’s no ulterior motives laced with sex or lust. Just gentle touches, pure in the way they take their time with lathering up even the simple, boring parts of your body. Paying special mind to your hands, your calves. Behind your ears, your shoulders.
Jeongguk’s touching you like you’re sunshine.
Like he’s savoring the warmth of your body under his fingertips even though it's too hot in the shower.
He’s touching you like you’re the perfect day, one so perfect that he’s scared it will pass by before he can enjoy it.
He’s touching you with so much care and attention and it feels so good that it’s blissful. It feels so– it feels like when you’re a little kid and you return to the comfort of your home after a long day, to the familiarness of your bed, to everything that makes you feel safe.
It feels like your favorite memory. The one you keep adding onto because the details have gotten fuzzy, but you clutch onto it because it's too precious to let go of.
It feels like a–
It feels like–
Jeongguk takes his time with you.
It feels so good that it’s almost overwhelming in a way that you’ve never experienced before. It feels so good that tears sting behind your eyelids, so different from the tears you shed earlier.
He delicately untangles your hair, gets out all the knots he put in it. He cups your face, gently rubbing the pads of his thumbs under your eyes, getting the makeup off as best he can. He’s careful when he’s suds up your body, mindful of the light blossoms that he planted into your skin. The violet on your neck pulses under the care, a bloom that’s pretty, a bloom that aches, a bloom that feels good.
He’s adoring, he’s soft, he’s bliss.
When his lips kiss your cheek, it's almost platonic, simply because it lacks desire. It sounds bad, embarrassing maybe, that he’s not desiring your naked body in front of him, but it’s not– it’s something new and it's so incredibly wholesome. His kisses are so sweet, so pure, so innocent and just an expression of caring rather than wanting that it makes you want him in a way that scares you.
After the final rinse, you kiss his cheek. Hope and yearn that he can feel half of what he made you feel. You hope he knows what you mean when you say quietly, “Thank you.”
“Wear this one, you look good in white.”
Jeongguk has a fluffy grey towel tied around his hips, lingering water droplets disappearing when they trek far enough down his torso. And you’re scrunching your hair in a matching towel, warm from the heated towel rack. The atmosphere in his bedroom is warm too, soft and comfortable, sweet like a cup of hot tea.
He’s got one of his white shirts scrunched in his hands, ready to dress you. Quiet laughter putters from your lips as you reach your hands up and into the arm holes as he pulls the neck hole over your head. When you pop out Jeongguk is close enough for you to kiss him, so you do.
“We’ve kissed so much today,” he says thoughtfully, turning and digging in his drawers. Instead of taking care of himself, he finds a pair of your lounge shorts that you left here.
“I know, how gross,” you say with playful disgust in your tone, as you take that and step into the shorts. Panties are unnecessary apparently, since he doesn’t hand you one of the stray pairs you know are in his dresser.
He hums walking into the bathroom. “It’s nice, I like kissing you.”
You roll your eyes following him. Hopping onto the counter you watch as he does his skincare. “We already had sex, no need to butter me up, sir.”
The corners of his mouth turn up just barely as he tries not to smile, hardly glancing at you as he dabs his moisturizer in.
“I like it when you’re around,” he says simply.
Heat rushes to your face, and your heart beats loud in your ears and something feels so different.  
So of course you just change the subject.
“I’m so glad we ordered food before the shower.” You place a hand on your belly, “I’m so hungry.”
“Hopefully you clicked the right stuff, since you were, you know, a little distracted… seeing as we were kissing… so much… because I like to kiss you...”
“Do you want a kiss right now? Is that why you’re being annoying?”
He makes an offended expression before immediately going back to his normal face, tinted with faux nonchalance. He shrugs his tattooed shoulder, tapping the cream in. “I wouldn’t object to a kiss or two…”
And so he gets a kiss or two or three, soft, giddy little pecks.
He pulls away, and just looks at you for a few seconds, doe-eyes dancing across your features before falling and lingering on the lovebite he left that’s peeking out. The neck of his shirt is too big, hanging loose. His hand comes up and he fingers at the material like he’s thinking of straightening the shirt out for you.
He doesn’t, instead bringing the hand to your jaw, making you tilt your head, looking up at him.
“You’re so pretty,” he says, his thumb gliding on the apple of your cheek.
Your eyes fall shut, content. A lazy smile laces your words when you say, “Thanks.”
Cute kissy noises ring in your ears until they don’t, the doorbell taking their place.
You pull away so fast that Jeongguk is almost insulted. Jumping from the counter you squeal about the food, tapping his toweled butt on the way out of the bathroom, telling him to hurry up and get dressed as you rummage through your purse for your wallet.
“Wait I’ll pay,” he says, finally dropping his towel and snagging a pair of briefs.
“It’s okay!” you call over your shoulder, speed walking to his front door.
The walk from Jeongguk’s bedroom isn’t too long, but your thoughts are fast, running a mile a minute. The thought of how good today has been, how easy it is to be with him. How whenever you’re with him you find that your cheeks hurt when you go home, laughter constant, and smiles ever present. You think about how warm his home is, how warm he is, how being with him is a comfort that you’ve come to crave.
The smile that is on your face is unconscious, the remnants of the soft emotions swirling in your chest, feeling like you’ve finally pinpointed what's so different about today.
When you open the door, that lingering smile falls and that hazy feeling evaporates.
In front of you is not a delivery guy.
It’s the woman from the pictures. The framed one in the hallway, the one on top of Nari’s dresser, the one in the photo albums Jeongguk let you browse through when you wanted to see his daughter as a newborn. It’s the same woman that was in the picture he sent you.
And your heart drops when you take her in. You knew she was pretty, but the pictures don’t even scratch the surface. Even when her features are pulled in perturbed confusion, she’s beautiful. She’s put together, long dark hair styled and sleek, make up done minimally but elegantly, her parted lips a sheer coral. Her straight, dark brows are furrowed causing a slight wrinkle between them. It looks out of place, an imperfection that doesn’t belong.
Her sharp eyes scan you, both of you just kind of standing there in the doorway, taking the other in. They go from your wet hair, to your face, down to where Jeongguk’s shirt hangs loosely off your shoulder. Her gaze hardens as she lingers there for just a moment, before directing dark eyes back at you.
It feels like it’s been hours, that you both have been there, but in reality it's not even a minute. She looks like she’s going to say something, but the impatient baby in the woman’s arms makes herself known.
At the high pitched squeal that Nari lets out, you snap out of it, plastering a smile on your face. The little one is smiling, clearly excited to see you, her doe-eyes curling and getting mini puffs under them. When she leans away from her mom, arms reaching out towards you, it’s instinct when you go to take her from her mom.
“Hi! Sorry Gguk’s in–” You falter, arms raised halfway, when Nari gets pulled out of reach.
The woman doesn’t go as far as taking a step away from you, but she turns at the waist kind of putting herself and some distance between you and her baby. As you let your hands fall in timid, jerky movements, you look between the two in front of you, and Nari’s doing the same, a cute confused expression on her face like she doesn’t know why she wasn’t allowed to play with you.
And it’s not like you blame Nari’s mom. It’s very apparent that she has no clue who you are. If anything you think it’s good that her mom is protective enough to not just hand Nari over to someone she doesn’t know. It makes sense, but it stings.
“Ba?” Nari babbles, to her mom.
The woman’s cold gaze breaks at the sound of her daughter's voice, and morphs into one of quiet love as she directs her eyes to the baby, giving her a soft smile. She bounces Nari a little on her hip, and Nari giggles. When they are looking at each other, their profile resemblance is striking. Of course Nari’s features are still baby soft, but it's obvious that they have the same nose. Small, slightly upturned. The same lips too; plump with the upper lip almost rounded.
“Who is this, Riri?” she asks her baby playfully, her eyes finding you again at the tailend of her sentence.
She’s smiling, but her eyes are stony, guarded, as she looks at you expectantly.
“I’m __– I’m a uh… a friend of Jeongguk’s?”
Her eyes narrow for a fraction of a second when you say ‘friend’ and the coolness she’s emitting is enough for you to call for Jeongguk for your shoulder, needing the comfort of him. The woman in front of you is intimidating in a way you don’t think you could ever achieve. It’s something about the way she carries herself, so collected and aloof, like she’s mastered the art of keeping it together.
And you’re not scared of her, not really. But what are you supposed to do in this situation other than call for Jeongguk?
At the thought of him, you hear his voice come from behind you and when you turn, you see him walking out of his room, bottom half clothed in dark joggers, his top half bare as he clumsily pulls a shirt over his head.
“Do you need cash for the ti–” When his wet head of hair pops out of the neck hole, and he sees not one girl in front of him, but three, his voice cuts out, and he slows as he takes in the scene before him. You see how his chest expands as he takes a deep breath, like he’s preparing himself before quickening his pace.
Nari starts to kick in her mom’s hold when she sees her dad approaching, excited little gasps puffing out of her.
“Hi, little flower,” Jeongguk coos, smiling wide as he brings his hand up, tickling Nari’s neck, making the baby squirm and curl in on herself as she bubbles out a giggle. “Dasom,” he says as a greeting to his ex-wife, as takes his place next to you, his hand settling on your lower back for just a moment, like he’s letting you know he’s there.
Dasom lets the corners of her lips turn up slightly as she says, “Jeongguk.”
“What are you doing here?” he asks. You can tell he’s trying to keep his voice neutral.
“Something came up at work. I have to go to the headquarters a few cities over for a few days,” Nari grabs at the dainty necklace she’s wearing, and Dasom gently untangles her little fingers, offering her her wrist instead. A heavier, more sturdy piece of jewelry keeps Nari busy. “I texted you hours ago letting you know I was on my way.”
“I was busy. I didn’t have my phone on me,” he explains.
Dasom looks between you both. The freshly washed hair on both your heads, the mark on your neck. The too-big, white shirt you have on that’s clearly not yours. “I can see that,” she replies coolly.
And suddenly you feel so out of place, so uncomfortable. Standing between two people who used to share the home you’re surrounded by. Two people who share the sweet baby girl that’s content babbling to herself. Two people who were married, who were in love, who have so much history together. You know it’s mildly absurd, because they’re divorced, but you feel like you’re intruding, like you’re doing something wrong.
You’re just about to excuse yourself when Jeongguk sighs, runs a frustrated hand through his hair, reaching out and taking Nari from her mom. “__, can you take Nari and wait for me in the playroom?”
“Daaa,” she peeps happily in her dad’s big arms, as he hands her off to you.
“Kook–” Dasom says, uneasiness lacing her tone.
“She’s fine Dasom, she’s been with __ many times,” Jeongguk says with a finality to his tone.
Dasom says her goodbyes to Nari, a tense silence falling over the house as you walk away with the baby. It’s not till Dasom thinks you’re far enough away that she speaks up.
“Who is that, Jeongguk?”
Jeongguk shuts his eyes roughly when he hears a hint of confused hurt in her voice. He can tell she’s trying to mask it, but he’s known her for a long time. Remembers clearly what it sounds like, memories of all the painful talks preceding the divorce edging on his conscience.
“She’s a friend,” he sighs.
“How old are your friends these days?” Dasom questions, confusion turning to judgement– obvious in her tone and her stance, her arms crossing over her torso.
Jeongguk hangs his head and scrubs his hands over his face. “How was Nari?” he asks, trying to change the subject.
His ex has different plans. “How old is she?”
He looks up at her sharp tone, a surprised color to his features. He looks over his shoulder towards the playroom before he turns back to her, a soft incredulous scoff leaving his lips. “She’s old enough, and I’m not doing this with you. So if you don’t have any updates–” His hand is on the door in the process of inching it closed when Dasom interrupts him.
“You know,” she starts, “I never thought I’d have to worry about this with you. Thought you’d be able to keep your personal and parenting lives separate.”
And she knows exactly which buttons of his to push; of course she does. She was married to him for years, knew him better than anyone else at one point in time. She knows that insinuating that he is a lacking parent, that he doesn’t always put their daughter first, will irk him enough to pull a reaction out of him.
It’s purposefully done– vindictiveness an ugly side of his ex that doesn’t come out of her often, only when she’s hurt and wants to hurt back. Or at least it didn’t happen often. It’s been over a year, and people change.
“Are you sure you want to debate which of us has trouble separating and balancing things when you’re the one dropping our daughter off in the middle of your week with her, to go to work?” he asks, his tone icy. He knows her well too. Knows it’s the same insinuations that hurt him, that cut her as well.
Anger colors Dasom’s features as she takes a step closer to Jeongguk, her head tilted a little as she looks up at him. “I do it for her. To provide for her. You know that,” she spits, “And I keep my lovers away from her while I’m at it.”
Jeongguk laughs, like he can’t believe he’s having this conversation. “I’m sure you do, Dasom,” he pauses, debating on whether to add what he’s thinking. “And for the record, I don’t have ‘lovers’. I’m only seeing one person.”
“And are you planning on committing to her? Making it long term?”
Caught off guard doesn’t even really begin to cover the whiplash-like feeling that Jeongguk experiences when he hears the question.
He hesitates, flounders a little. He cares about you, likes you so, so much. And he’s not stupid– he knows that he feels something for you that’s vastly different from what he’s felt for the others before you but– you’re young. So young, with your whole life ahead of you. Meanwhile, he has his life already booked for the next 16 years, at least. He’s never really let himself think about things long term, because it just doesn’t seem realistic. Asking you to commit to not only him, but a two year old as well? It seems selfish to ask that of you, like an unintentional trap that steals your freedom. He can’t ask for that. He won’t.
Dasom looks disillusioned, like she really did expect better from Jeongguk. “I didn’t think so. You’re not even dating her... She’s your ‘friend’?” she asks.
Jeongguk just looks at her with pursed lips and pinched brows.
“And when you’re not ‘friends’ anymore, Kook?” she asks again, “Are you just going to bring another ‘friend’into Nari’s life for her to get attached to just for them to leave again? And what about when she’s older? Do you want her thinking that’s what women do? Come and go?”
Dasom’s words are exaggerated and extreme– she doesn't know the circumstances between you and him, doesn’t know that it was Nari that introduced you to one another, so waiting to introduce you and his daughter wasn’t an option. And it’s not like Jeongguk is ever going to have a legion of women filtering through his home.
But the point is made all the same.
“No, of course I don’t want that,” he says defeated, as he tilts his head back for a moment, letting his eyes shut.
“Yeah, me either,” she says. Her voice lacks the judgment it held at the beginning of the conversion, being replaced by blasé melancholy. “So I hope she gets it out of your system. Please drop Nari off next Friday, just like always.”
Turning on her heel, Dasom makes to leave before she stops abruptly. She takes a deep breath with her head tilted back, before she’s looking down, like she’s tired. Like the fight with Jeongguk took a lot of her. She pulls a folder from her bag, turning back around and presenting it to Jeongguk.
“For Ri’s speech…” she says softly, “I took her to another speech pathologist yesterday. This one said try doing signs during meals. ‘All done’. ‘More’...” Dasom does the signs haphazardly waving her hands about. “Doctor said it...” She takes a deep breath, and laughs halfheartedly, and Jeongguk can see how she’s tearing up. “Well, like all the other doctor’s we’ve taken her to, they said it may help.”
Her eyes are glassy when she looks at him, and Jeongguk’s heart aches because he knows exactly how she feels.
The anxiety and constant worry you feel over your child’s well-being is one of the hardest things to navigate because you have to keep it together and not let yourself get defeated. You have to come to terms with the fact that sometimes there’s things that, as a parent, you can’t fix, and that sometimes you can do everything right and still have things go wrong– things that may never be able to go right.
He knows that there is an unexplainable guilt, that there’s always that little voice in the back of your head that tells you that maybe if you had done this, then that wouldn’t have happened. It’s a horribly helpless feeling, wanting nothing more than to make things better for your child, and not being able to.
“She’s fine you know,” he says softly, “she’s just taking her time.”
Dasom tries to nod, but she breaks. Her hands come up to cover her quivering chin and quiet her soft cries. She buries her face in her palms as her shoulders tremble.
“Hey, hey,” Jeongguk whispers, reaching out and pulling her to his chest. Her hands are still covering her face, so his arms circle around her as a whole and he rests his chin on her head and lets her cry, his own eyes stinging.
It’s only a minute or two that Dasom weeps against his chest. She’s then pulling away with a deep breath, blowing it out in that soothing way trying to calm herself, trying to regulate her breathing. She laughs, airy like she’s embarrassed, as she taps under her eyes, trying to save her makeup as best she can.
“Ah… sorry about that,” she says, “Haven’t cried in a while so that was bound to happen sometime soon.”
Jeongguk laughs quietly before he muses, “She can say juice now.”
Dasom rolls her eyes playfully. “Yeah… Joofs.”
They both laugh together, for a moment, a few moments, until it tapers off naturally. Leaving soft wistful smiles on their faces.
“Drive safe, Som-ie.”
“Yeah… Joofs.”
The laughter that echoes from Jeongguk’s foyer feels like a punch in the gut after everything that you’ve heard. All the things you felt earlier seem stupid and childish in hindsight.  
And yeah, you don’t blame Jeongguk for staying quiet when Dasom asked if he wanted to commit to you because that’s not something you guys have even touched on, but when he stayed silent as she went on about you just being his ‘friend’? Alluding to you just being a lay for him, just something he needs to ‘get out of his system’? Something disposable and unimportant?
You had at least expected him to defend you.
To tell her that while you may not be his girlfriend, you are important to him. More than a quick lay, more than just a young girl he needs to fuck out of his system. Because you know that’s exactly what she thinks you are. And what she thinks doesn't matter, not really, but if that’s what Jeongguk thinks?
Part of you knows that there’s no way that Jeongguk thinks that. That if he did, this thing between you both would have fizzled out by now or at least been harder to deal with. But that’s never been the case. It’s always been good with him, easy.
If he thought that way, he wouldn’t have been so worried in the beginning and would have instead jumped at the chance to get into your pants. You weren’t exactly subtle back then– there were plenty of opportunities for him to come onto you. But it literally took you throwing yourself at him for him to give in.
So like you know. You know, you know, you know in your heart that it’s not true, that he doesn’t think that little of you.
But his silence was enough to plant a seed of doubt, enough to break a little bit of trust. More than enough to hurt you.
You look down at Nari, and she reaches her hands up wanting to be held. A soft, pitiful laugh falls from your lips and you bend to pick her up.
“Sorry, wasn’t playing with you was I?”
Nari looks at you, studies you with those big eyes of hers. She pats at your cheek, a little roughly, but you can tell she’s trying to be gentle. Her little hand goes from patting to petting, almost like she’s trying to soothe you, like she can tell you’re upset.
“Buu?” she asks.
In reality you have no idea what she’s saying. But it feels like she’s asking if you’re okay, and just like if an adult were to ask you that when you’re close to losing it, close to breaking– it makes you cry.
Not the embarrassing type of cry, but just a tiny cry in front of the sweetest, tiny human. Your eyes just tear up, and your chin trembles a little bit as you try to muster up a small smile, but when you blink a couple tears spill over.
Nari gasps. “Nuuu!” she tells you, before she’s wrapping her tiny bread arms around your neck, clutching onto you like she’s trying to squeeze out all of the sad.
It makes you let out a watery laugh, and you squeeze back, enough so that she croaks a little like a frog. When you pull back she’s giggling in that pure baby way that probably has healing powers or something.
“You are so smart,” you tell her, sniffing a little, trying to get yourself together. You’re not sure if Dasom left yet, or how much longer it will be before Jeongguk comes back, and you don’t want him to know you were crying, or eavesdropping.
She tilts her head at you, then leans in with her lips pulled between her teeth making them pop out when they are against your cheek, a tiny ‘maa’ sounding with her smooch.
“That’s a new type of kiss,” you tell her.
“Sol-mi, Yoongi and Jimin’s daughter, taught her at the party.”
Whipping around at the sound of his voice, you turn and see Jeongguk leaning against the doorway with two glasses of wine in his hands and a sippy cup tucked into his arm. He gives you a soft smile, and you smile back because that’s the only thing you know how to do when you’re with him. Instinctive.
“Hi,” you say.
“Hi,” he says back.
“DAAADAAA!” Nari screeches.
You pull back, wincing for your ear drum, as you let Nari down with an endeared laugh. She toddles over to her dad, tugging on his joggers.
“Hi my babygirl,” he says. Then laughs when she tugs particularly hard, “Hey– you’re gonna pull Daddy’s pants down, quit it.”
“Joofs,” she says, grabby hands reaching for the sippy cup she spotted.
“I see how it is,” he says, handing you your glass and then grabbing the juice, “Didn’t even miss me?”
He manages to sit down without his hands and without squishing his daughter, and you follow suit, watching the daddy-daughter moment unfold, quietly sipping on your wine. Trying your best to push everything else out of your mind, trying to get that almost... safe, warm feeling back. The one that you always get when you’re with Jeongguk. It’s been missing since he came into the room.
“Give Daddy a kiss and then you can have your juice,” he angles his cheek to her and then adds on, “Also say please.” like it’s an afterthought.
You shake your head, smiling, and Jeongguk flicks his eyes to you, mirroring your expression.
“Peeb,” she spouts before she gives him a very quick, rather half-assed kiss. She doesn’t even do the ‘maa’. Her hands open out in front of her, expectant and ready for her drink.
Jeongguk tuts at her, but hands the juice over. “You’re rotten, missy.”
Nari says nothing, just waddles so she's standing in front of him with her back to his face. She plops herself right in his lap, his criss-crossed legs making a perfect Nari-shaped seat. Sipping away with her drink in one hand, her other comes down to Jeongguk’s tattooed arm that he wrapped around her belly. Tracing them with her pudgy little fingers, she tries her best to look down while simultaneously keeping her drink in the proper position.
It’s quiet for a bit, just Nari’s soft drinking noises. You take the moment to get up and grab something from your stuff in Jeongguk’s room, before returning. As you’re walking past Jeongguk back to your spot across from him, you feel his hand tug at the one you have dangling by your side.
You look at him, a small questioning noise sounding.
He pulls, making you bend at the waist getting closer to his level, and when he tilts his head back to look up at you, his eyes flicker to your lips and then he licks his and then he’s craning his neck and then he’s kissing you softly.
It’s fleeting but it's sweet. It makes the warm feeling settle in your heart again, just for a moment before it hides away, somewhere within you. Your eyes dart to Nari. Kisses usually being reserved for alone time.
He shakes his head. “It’s alright… Sorry that happened while you were here… Me and Dasom usually communicate better than that.”
You take a seat next to him and Nari, careful of his wine glass. “It’s okay…”
Gazes meet for a few seconds looking over the other like you’re both trying to figure something out. Things different from the ‘different’ you felt earlier. This different feels like something is off; the first one felt like a dream. Maybe it was.
“Okay,” he replies lightly, but he sounds unsure, like he doesn't know if it actually is ‘okay’. His eyes drop to the small bag that you brought into the room. “Whatcha got?”
You tell him you got Nari something for her birthday, nothing big but just something that reminded you of her. You ask him if it’s okay to give it to her.
He says of course, why wouldn’t it be?
For some reason the tiny exchange hurts.
Lacking an answer, you pinch at the little fat roll on Nari’s thigh, her tiny jean shorts putting all the chub on display. She looks up at you, and you raise the bag and shake it a little. Her smile grows as she realizes it's for her. Jeongguk is abandoned, your lap now occupied.
“She has no loyalty at all,” Jeongguk says.
“She’s just making as many allies as she can, and I think that is very smart of her,” you defend, watching as Nari plucks tissue paper after tissue paper out of the bag (with only one small hand, the other still holding her juice), until she’s squealing. Your face lights up at her enthusiasm, and hers lights up at the toy, and you don’t see it, but Jeongguk’s lights up at you both.
You’ve been good with her since that day you found her at your work, and Jeongguk notices when you go out of your way to ask about her, to be kind to her, patient with her... to take care of her. Never once have you treated her like she was a burden, or an inconvenience.
He sees the way that Nari is with you, too.
Sees how happy she gets when you walk in his front door, how she always shares her things with you in that sweet way that babies do when they like someone. She even asks about you when you don't come around for a few days. A babbled version of your name peeping from her little lips.
It’s no secret that his baby has grown attached to you, come to love you. Dasom’s words ring in his ears. The thing she said about Nari getting used to someone he brings into her life, just for them to not be permanent.  
A medium sized, pink, stuffed Narwhal is pulled from the bag by the horn, and Nari swings it to the side to show her dad, just for a moment, before she’s squeezing it to her chest. She’s cooing, kinda nuzzling into it.
“Ba buuu,” she says softly, eyes still on the gift like it's something wondrous, rather than just a small plush. Jeongguk grows soft and your heart squeezes in your chest. The warmth comes back, flickers before going out again.
“What is it?” Jeongguk asks around a sip of his wine.
“A narwhal. You know, Nar-i, Nar-whal.”
His mouth twitches, fighting a smile, but he just nods. Until he can’t hold his laughter in anymore, making you laugh too by consequence. Easy.
The little crows feet at the corners of his eyes make an appearance and he scrunches his nose at you as he quiets. His hair is still just a little bit damp. “It’s cute,” he amends. “You didn’t have to get her anything, but thank you for thinking about her.”
The smile on his lips is tiny, but you can tell it’s genuine. Without laughter lightning up his face, you realize how tired he looks, warn out.
“Are you okay?” you say, arms raising so Nari is able to get up, making her way to her other toys, the narwhal tucked into her side. She grabs a babydoll, holds it to the narwhal and makes them move around like she’s introducing her toys.
Jeongguk sighs, and leans back on his hands. “Just wasn’t expecting that, is all… I get stressed when things don’t go as planned.”
“That’s why you broke out the wine in the middle of the day?” you ask with a teasing tone.
He rolls his eyes playfully. “One glass won’t hurt…”
The doorbell cuts off your reply. The food’s here.
The headboard behind Jeongguk’s back is hard, just like he is under you.
But his touches are soft, just like his kisses.
You’re straddling him, your hips just barely rocking over him as you lick into his mouth. Mewl against his lips. Hands in his hair, not pulling, but just twining your fingers in his locks, keeping him close.
It’s slow, unhurried and gentle. When he brings his palms to your chest over his shirt, he feels how your nipples pebble through the material as he squeezes, rolls them in his hands. So responsive to his touch, you pull away for just a moment to breathe out a pleased sigh before giving him a few cute pecks. Pushing into your lips, he deepens the kisses, his tongue teasing the seam of your lips until you open up for him.
He feels young again, like he’s making out with his crush, heavy petting because they are too scared to go all the way, but too into each other to not give in just a little. He hasn’t felt this way in so long. You gasp into his mouth when he pinches your nipple between his fingertips. His cock pulses, but his heart clenches.
It’s like reality is finally catching up to him. Reminding him that you and him were never supposed to get in so deep, were never supposed to get so entangled in each other’s lives. Fun and casual. That’s what it’s supposed to be. But it’s so much more than that now. At least for him it is.
His heart clenches because he’s not young anymore, but you still are.
The baby monitor that goes off with hiccuping cries just confirms his feelings.
“Sorry,” he says against your lips, his hands moving to your hips, squeezing before he helps maneuver you off of him.
“Bring her back in here,” you suggest.
Jeongguk pauses, twisting to crack his back. “You sure?”
You hum, “Yeah, wanna hang out with you both.”
And again his heart pulls, but he nods with a soft smile and a quick kiss before he’s hurrying out of the room.
Hands scrub over your face as you wait for him, your head knocking against the headboard. You purposefully focus on playing a game on your phone while you wait, refusing to let your thoughts loop incessantly around your brain.
It's a little while when Jeongguk walks back in with Nari on his hip. The sight makes you coo.
Nari’s looking around like she’s still a little out of it, her tiny round body in a light pink nightie covered in little bunnies sleeping on clouds and moons. Instead of her hair being in her trademark little ponies, it’s down, falling in messy little wisps around her face. The narwhal is clutched in her tiny hand by the horn and when she sees you, she blinks a few times before she smiles around the paci in her mouth.
“Hi sweet girl,” you say, when Jeongguk places her on the bed.
She tries to walk over to you, but the bed is soft and she’s very much still tired so she stumbles, hits the mattress with a small oof and an airy little giggle. Crawling the rest of the way she sits herself next to you, puts her plush in her lap.
“Think someone had a bad dream,” Jeongguk says around a yawn, taking his spot on the bed. “Also sorry it took a second, had to change her pull up.”
You hum, your hand coming up to pet at her hair, dark, silky, and baby scented.
“Wanna watch something, boba?” Jeongguk asks, laying himself on his side, one hand propped under his head, the other on the remote.
Nari nods, hunkers down in the fluffy pillow behind her. She looks at you and pats the sheets, as if telling you to lay down like her and her Daddy. Of course you listen.
It’s calm and quiet, just the children’s show playing in the background that you all are watching. You and Jeongguk half heartedly, Nari with round eyes. She lets out little laughs every now and then, her blinks slow and heavy. Jeongguk’s got a hand resting on Nari’s tummy and her little hand holds onto his thumb.
The scene is domestic.
“She doesn’t have nightmares often, does she?” you ask quietly.
Jeongguk glances at you, shakes his head. “Not here at least.”
“Has she always been a co sleeper?”
Jeongguk shakes his head again. “Not till after the divorce,” he says. “And I wouldn’t say she still co sleeps… most nights she sleeps on well on her own. I just don’t tell her no if she wants to come into my room.”
At the mention of the divorce your brain begins to whirl.
It’s not something he brings up often, and it’s never really bothered you. But after today, after you saw and heard how he and his ex interacted… It makes you curious. They seem to get along decently well, and they both clearly love Nari.
You sound a bit timid when you ask, “Why did you guys split up?”
Jeongguk’s quiet, doesn’t acknowledge that he heard you even though you know that he did. You worry that you’ve said something wrong, and you’re about to apologize but he speaks up.
“I’ll tell you… just getting my thoughts in order.”
Jeongguk stares down at the teeny, tiny baby in the bassinet. The light pink of the skirt at the bottom matches the accents on the walls of her nursery.
Her big eyes are watching the fairy mobile, big felt flowers dangling above her, the softest baby coos leaving her mouth every once in a while. She was already up when he got home from work.
When he puts his hand inside the baby bed and extends one of his fingers petting at her small hand, the baby jumps a little like she didn’t know he was there, but recognition is instant and she smiles up at him, her tiny fingers clutching around his.
“Hi miss Nari,” he says quietly, “How long have you been up, hmm? Bout time for some milk isn’t it?”
She blows a bubble up at him.
His heart swells as he picks her up, a big hand supporting her head as he pulls her to his chest. A detour to the changing table precedes his walk to the living room, where his wife is sat cross legged on the floor, papers and her laptop scattered in front of her on the coffee table. The video baby monitor is propped up as well.
“Hi honey,” Jeongguk says.
Dasom looks over her shoulder, sees the two of them and smiles. “Hey, how was work? And how’s our baby?” She types something on her laptop.
“Baby is good and work was work. Remember how I said we are thinking of setting up another branch?” Jeongguk asks, swaying a little with his cheek resting on Nari’s head. She smells like baby and Dasom hums in acknowledgement. “My brother finally got me a list of locations, so just a lot of assigning scouts to scope them out and budgeting for the cost of their travel.”
“That’s great, babe,” Dasom says.
Jeongguk watches her for a few more moments, as she flips through the papers like she’s looking for something. He walks around, so that he can sit in the loveseat off to the side, adjusts Nari so that she’s cradled in the bend of his arm. “What are you doing?” he asks.
“Just reviewing everything that’s happened at the office over the last few months…” She flicks her eyes to him.
Jeongguk frowns. “You still have two and a half weeks before you have to go back, don’t you?”
“Yeah, wanna be prepared though.”
Nari starts to wiggle in his arms, fussy. “Did you ever see if you could get a few more weeks since you guys were in the hospital for so long? That’s hardly a leave, if you ask me.”
She laughs lightly. “That’s true. But I don’t think it’s necessary? She’s doing really well, and I think that that Montessori nursery will be good for her.”
Tension fills Jeongguk’s body. “I thought we talked about letting Yeoreum watch her when you go back to work.”
“Well yes. We talked about it– but we didn’t commit to–”
“We didn’t commit to Montessori either–”
“What benefits is Nari getting if we do that?” Dasom says, finally giving Jeongguk her full attention. “No offense to Jin’s wife, but it’s not like she’s certified to care for newborns.”
“She’s a mother, Som. A very good one, she knows how to care for a baby. And Nari would be the only baby she’s taking care of so it’s one on one attention and it’s someone we know and trust so–”
“Montessori has curriculum, and it teaches children to be independent–”
“She’s a baby! She doesn’t need to be independent. She needs to be–”
Nari’s fussiness has escalated, her tiny cries filling the living room. Jeongguk starts rocking her, shushing her with soft coos. He tries the pacifier attached to her onesie, but she just pushes it out, crying louder.
“She’s hungry,” Jeongguk says, getting to his feet so he can hand her to her mom.
“I pre-pumped when she was napping earlier. There’s a bottle with 6.5 ounces in the fridge.”
Picking his battles and barely suppressing a frustrated sigh, he walks to the kitchen and places the bottle in the warmer. Nari’s cries continue to sound as he waits, bouncing her a little, rubbing her back.
Back in the loveseat, he tries to give Nari her dinner but she’s grumpy, turning her head or pushing the nipple out of her mouth, growing angrier by the minute, her tiny body turning red from how hard she’s crying.
“She’s not taking the bottle, I think she–”
“Is it warm enough?”
“Yes, I think she wants you.”
Nari’s mom looks over the top of her laptop and nods. “I’m just about done–”
“Dasom, please,” Jeongguk says, “She’s hungry and she wants her mom.”
Almost like a fog clears, Dasom’s face falls before she’s nodding hastily. “Yeah, yeah… I’m sorry I– bring her to me.”
As soon as Nari’s in her mom’s arms she quiets some, and once Dasom holds her close and starts to feed her it’s serene again. Nari’s little hand opens and closes rhythmically, until her mom gives her her finger, like Jeongguk did early. Ever since she came home from the hospital, she’s liked to hold hands.
“I’m sorry,” Dasom whispers again, without looking at Jeongguk. He can hear the guilt in her voice.
He tells her it's okay and that he’s going to shower.
Later when Nari’s down for the night and he and his wife are laying in bed, Dasom apologizes again. Tells Jeongguk that she was just stressed with preparing for work and juggling the baby.
“Som-ie, that reminds me, I was thinking…”
She turns to look at him from his side of the bed, smiling. “Not too hard, hopefully.”
“Ha-ha,” he says, unamused. He continues nervously, like he’s walking on eggshells. “But I was thinking– what if you took off for the first year or so?”
The shift in atmosphere is instant. Dasom goes stiff in her spot next to him, and she says silent.
“I only say it because we would be fine, you know?” He tries to explain, “My job brings in more than enough for us to be okay, and if you just stayed home with her, you could teach her the way that you want and I would get the peace of mind knowing that she’s safe with someone I love and trust. We would solve the daycare dilemma…”
Still, his wife says nothing, her brows furrowed.
“And you wouldn’t be so stressed…” Jeongguk continues, “you wouldn’t have to worry about work on top of being a mom… You would never miss any of her firsts and–”
“When we talked about having a baby, I told you I didn’t want to be one of those moms.”
Dasom’s voice is upset, her tone hard.
“I know, I know,” Jeongguk says softly, “But it wouldn’t be for forever. Just until she’s older… I read that companies will give extended leaves sometimes, kind of like a sabbatical.”
She laughs in disbelief, “How long have you been thinking about this? I’m not taking an extended leave, or a sabbatical, or a hiatus or whatever it is you’ve been researching, Jeongguk. I worked so hard to get to where I am,” she closes her eyes like she’s trying to stay calm, “You can’t ask me to throw that away.”
“That’s not what I’m asking–”
“But it is!” she exclaims, “Even being gone for 3 months has already put me back. My position isn’t one that can stay open for extended periods of time. And that means if I take off for even just a year– it’ll be given to someone else. Someone else will come into what I built and either reap the benefits or ruin it.”
Jeongguk stays quiet, looking at the pattern of the duvet over his lap.
It’s softer when Dasom speaks up again. “If that’s the kind of mother you want me to be– the kind that has no substance, or passions, or goals outside of being a mom– then… you may as well get the papers.”
Jeongguk’s head snaps up, his expression shocked and confused. “Divorce? Why is that the first thing your mind goes to?”
Dasom runs her hands through her hair, pressing the heels of her palms against her temples. “I’m not gonna bend on this, Kook.”
And it was almost like when the idea of divorce was spoken into existence, it was something that hung over them, like a curse that took only 7 months to come true.
“Dasom is a good mom,” Jeongguk says slowly, “We just parent very differently.”
You stay quiet, waiting for him to continue, adjusting yourself so that you’re looking at him.
“That’s the root of it, really. We couldn’t agree on anything when it came to Nari. And obviously we talked about things before she was born, and had a loose idea of how we wanted to raise her…” He stops for a moment to think.
“It’s just so different when they are born, like you think you know what it means to be a parent but you really don’t. Not until it’s already happened and they are in your arms and you’re searching for a daycare and coming across horror stories about the workers abusing the kids. Or thinking about how it wouldn’t be the end of the world if she doesn’t talk but also knowing how much harder her life will be if she doesn’t.”
You can feel a heaviness cloud the room. Jeongguk is so good at keeping this part of himself tucked away, good at putting on a brave face that when you look at him and see him looking down at his baby with worried, furrowed brows, your heart aches.
“And it led to a lot of really bad fights and it just got to a point where one day I decided I wouldn’t raise a baby in a home that was tumultuous.”
“What did you guys argue about?” you ask softly.
Jeongguk gives you a sad smile. “More like what didn’t we argue about. Daycare… But I’ll admit I agreed to it before she was born and then changed my mind... Her speech, how to deal with tantrums, where she slept, what she ate. I think Dasom’s too tough, she thinks I’m too soft…” he taps his fingers on Nari’s belly, “She thinks I’m part of the reason why she doesn’t talk. That because I dote on her, Nari thinks that she doesn’t need to use words so she just doesn’t.”
Your brows furrow. “Babies hit milestones at different rates, my cousin didn’t talk at all until he was three… Taking care of her isn’t hindering her development.”
“Thank you,” he says, quietly. “I think she’s starting to understand that too, as we keep getting outside opinions…”
He falls silent and you can tell he’s sad, his hand coming up to push Nari’s hair off of her forehead, the baby now sleeping, her round tummy expanding as she takes deep breaths. You feel bad, having brought the tense atmosphere on with your questions.
“Nari’s so smart, Gguk,” you say, kind of hasty, eager to make him feel better. “Like earlier I was upset, and she just knew… she’s so emotionally intelligent and has such a pure heart–”
“You were upset earlier?” Jeongguk asks, his gaze questioning as he looks at you.
Your mouth opens and closes like you’re trying to find the right words, but none will come out.
“Why were you upset?” he asks again, genuine worry on his face.
And just like a few hours ago, when you felt like Nari was asking you if you were okay; when Jeongguk asks you why you were upset, tears begin to well in your eyes.
At the sight of tearing up, Jeongguk sits up gingerly trying to not wake Nari, but also be attentive at the same time. “Hey, what’s wrong? Talk to me…”
You sit up too, looking at Jeongguk for a moment before looking down at your hands in your lap. A tear lands on your skin when you blink, and you take a deep breath before you say, “I… I heard you earlier…”
His face pulls into one of confusion. “Me and Dasom?”
Your head tilts back, and you sound exasperated when you say, “Who else?”
Jeongguk thinks for a moment, goes over what he and his ex talked about, remembers her being a bit touchy about your age, and then he thinks he gets it. His features soften as he says, “Don’t listen to her… seeing you just caught her off guard, she–”
You give a hopeless watery laugh, turning to look at him with sad eyes. “It’s not what she said, it’s what you didn’t say.”
And once again confusion takes over his features, his mind trying to comprehend how and why something he never even said could hurt you to the point of you sniffling in his bed, your eyes begging him to get it. He feels bad when he says, “I don’t understand?”
It was never in the plan for you to be the girl that’s crying about why a man did or didn’t do something– that’s never been who you are. You’ve never really cared enough to get upset, you’ve always been independent, just cutting your losses and moving on.
But with Jeongguk, cutting your losses feels a lot like cutting out part of your heart, and you don’t think you’ll make it if you do that. One can live with half their lungs, only one of their kidneys… but no one ever lasts long when part of their heart goes missing. Jeongguk has become vital to you.
“Jeongguk,” you whisper, “What are we doing?”
Maybe it’s unfair of you to ask him something like that, when you both agreed to something carefree, no strings attached. But you think that falling in love with someone is a lot like how Jeongguk described being a parent: You think you know what it means, but you really don’t. Not until it’s already happened.
Because that’s what felt different prior to opening that door and letting doubt in with the breeze. Everything felt warmer, easier, safer, better because it was laced with the realization that you love Jeongguk.
His face has fallen when you look at him, waiting for his reply. The corners of his lips are down turned, and his brows are turned up. He begins to shake his head softly, his mouth parting a few times before he’s raising his shoulders in a hopeless way.
“I– I don’t know anymore,” he whispers back.
That’s the answer you expected, but it still makes you exhale pain, like his words knock the wind out of you. It’s shaky when you catch your breath, but you nod.
“I think I should leave for tonight,” you tell him, starting to push his comforter to the side.
Jeongguk feels his heart start to race, and he reaches out for you, his hand landing on your shoulder. “What? Right now? It’s the middle of the night– don’t– it’s–”
“If you don’t want me to leave,” you interrupt him, “then we need to talk.”
His mouth snaps shut and he rolls his lips between his teeth like he’s thinking. He glances at the baby sleeping between you, and gives you a quick nod. “Yeah, okay… Just not here, I don’t want her waking up again… let me get the monitor from her room. I’ll meet you in the living room.”
Nodding wordlessly, you slip out of the room.
You’re pacing lightly, in nothing but his shirt that hits high on your thigh and a pair of panties, when Jeongguk comes out. He’s still shirtless, but he pulled on some joggers before leaving the room. One hand is pushing his hair back like he’s stressed, and the other is holding the baby monitor. He places it on the counter, and turns to you. A sad smile is offered, and you give him one back because it’s instinct.
It seems like neither of you know where to begin, both just breathing heavy in the artificial light. You take a deep breath.
“I wanted you to defend me,” you admit.
Jeongguk stays quiet, but his brows pinch.
“Or maybe like… defend us…” Embarrassment creeps into your bones.
“Defend us over what?” he asks. He doesn’t sound like he’s being dense, but like he actually doesn’t know.
Sighing, you say, “The way she talked about me, Gguk… She said I was something you needed to ‘get out of your system’... just a friend you fuck that’s disposable and unimportant and–”
“You know that’s not true,” he interjects.
“Yeah I do. Why didn’t you tell her that?” You can feel the first licks of anger in your chest, your voice coming out harsher than you intend. “Why did you let her talk about me like I’m just some stupid kid that doesn’t know what she wants? Like you don’t know what you want?”
Jeongguk thinks about it, realizes the answer is quite simple.
“Because I don’t know what I want, and I don’t think that you know what you want either.”
You look taken aback, and anger colors your features. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“It means that this turned into something it was never supposed to and now we don’t know how to navigate it or what we want from each other anymore,” Jeongguk explains, trying to keep the sadness out of his voice.
It’s true and it’s not at the same time. Because Jeongguk knows what he wants, at least to some extent, but he knows he can’t have it. Meaning that if he can’t have what he wants, he doesn’t know what he wants instead of that. And he supposes he can’t speak for you, but he doesn’t correct himself, instead says, “We’re in too deep, __… I care about you.”
It doesn’t sound like much, but you know what he means… know that it’s a confession of some sort.
Tentative hope bubbles in your chest at his words, and you take a few steps closer to him. “That’s not a bad thing, I care too. We both care so we can–” you pause, and look up at him. “We can just take the next step or something, right?”
Jeongguk smiles softly, and his hands come up to cup your face and it’s warm again, and it’s safe when you’re in his palms and when he’s kissing you. Your hands come up to just hold at his wrists, eyes shutting, and it’s sweet again and–
“It’s not that simple, baby…”
–and it’s over.
“There’s something that Dasom said that’s true.”
And you know it’s childish but you shake your head in his hands and tears begin to brim. She ruined everything. She planted that seed of doubt in both your heads, and she’s the reason why Jeongguk doesn’t feel safe anymore and why his hands aren’t warm and why everything is falling apart. You squeeze your eyes shut and scrunch your brows together, a few tears spilling over. “I don’t want to talk about her,” you whisper.
He smiles, a sad curve to his lips. “I know, you don’t... But we both need to hear it… We don’t agree on a lot when it comes to Nari, but she was right when she said that thing about people coming into Nari’s life and then leaving after she gets attached. That’s not fair to Nari and it was selfish of me to let it happen.”
“How do you know I’m just going to leave?” you ask.
“Because I’m not going to let you stay,” Jeongguk whispers, his thumb wiping away the tears that have already started to flow.
Words don’t even come to you, because of how badly it hurts. And you’re doing your best to keep it as together as you can because you aren’t pathetic. You’re not going to beg him to let you stay but you want to understand why. Your voice cracks when you ask him.
“You’re too young, __. And I’m not saying that’s why I don’t think you know what you want… But I don’t think you know what being with me long term means, and what you would be missing out on… I’m not going to trap you, it’ll just lead to you resenting me,” he says gently. His hands have left your face, and he walks around a little like he’s trying to gather his thoughts. “And there’s just so much that I have to balance. I don’t know if I have room or the time–”
It feels like a slap in the face. How did everything change so quickly from this morning?
“There was room in your bed for me,” you interrupt him, bitter pain lacing your words. “You had time to fuck me.”
He winces. “You know I didn’t mean it like that,” he tells you gently, “I just meant… I think I need to think about things, reevaluate my priorities–”
It sounds a lot like what you said earlier, when you were under him, taunting him with kisses.
You hum, “I just think you need to reevaluate your priorities, maybe.”
“And what do you think my priorities should be, __?” he whispers, eyes searching your face, lingering on your lips, a fond look coloring his features.
“Well, right now,” you start, looping your arms around his neck, “I think you should really focus on that plank, and on that kiss you’re dying to give me.”
And god, you wish you could go back. Wish you could rewind and just replay everything up until the doorbell rang. But you can’t because the reality of the situation is that this was always going to end.
Jeongguk has his mind made up. The fear of you leaving him and Nari and the fear of you resenting him if you stayed are inevitable feelings that he would have realized eventually. He has priorities and if he doesn’t change the way he thinks, it won’t ever work because–
“Because I’m not one of them…” you realize quietly. He cares, but not enough.
Jeongguk’s composure breaks and it’s written all over his face, how much it hurts him to hurt you, even if it’s not intentional. “I’m sorry,” he says, and it sounds desperate like he’s yearning for you to know that he means it. “But it’s always going to be her, Nari will always be the most important thing to me.”
And you won’t beg for a place in his life, but you want him to understand.
“I’m not asking to be the most important thing in your life, that’s not what I want,” you tell him.
“What do you want?” he asks.
“I want you to understand that I just want to be with you,” you tell him.
He’s by the couch now, sitting on the armrest. His lips are pressed in a tight line, and you can see redness around his eyes from fighting tears of his own. You’re still by the counter where he left you.
“It doesn’t have to be so extreme, Gguk… It’s not like we’re getting married, we would just be taking a next step–”
“But we might, __!” he yells, before shutting his eyes roughly and taking a deep breath. His tone is softer when he continues. “Obviously I wouldn’t spring that on you, but being with me means that you have to be okay with a lot of things,” he says.  
When you ask him what kinds of things he says, “You would have to be okay with never coming first, with me cancelling on you whenever something comes up with Nari. You would have to be okay with me still having a relationship with my ex because I refuse to let my baby have parents that hate each other.”
You try to keep your face straight but he must be able to see how he’s getting into your head because he continues, almost like he’s trying to convince you it’s not worth it being with him.
“At 22 you have to be okay with potentially getting married, with being a stepmom… I know you care about Nari, but if you were to commit to me, you would have to commit to her too. There would be boundaries that me and Dasom make, and you would have to respect them. You and her would have to learn to get along.”
“You’re only 22, __,” he continues, his voice borders on whining, like he just wants you to get it. “You don’t want that. You would lose your freedom… while your friends are travelling or doing whatever, you’ll be in a relationship, tied down… I won’t do that to you, __.” He looks at you for a moment. “Maybe you want a relationship,” he amends, trying to acknowledge your feelings. “But you don’t want an instant family, it’s too much for someone so young. It’s even a lot for people my age.”
“Why does it have to be so… all or nothing?” you ask, a little desperate because it's hard to understand the way he thinks.
“I can’t think short term when I have a baby who depends on me long term,” he replies.
“Then what have we been doing this whole time?”
Jeongguk opens his hands, turns his palms up like he’s giving up. “I was selfish and I got caught up… I made a mistake.”
A mistake. Your heart breaks a little but it beats loud in your ears as you let his words sink in. It's a lot to take in, especially when you two haven’t spoken about being in a committed relationship even once before. And it's confusing because he said he cared.
“I thought you cared about me… Why does it feel like you’re trying to scare me away?” you ask him, voice hurt.
Jeongguk looks at his hands, like he can’t face you. “I do care about you, and I’m not trying to scare you,” he says quietly. “I’m just telling you a fraction of the things that you really need to think about.”
And think you do.
Do you really want all that? Was he right when he alluded to you losing more than you gain? Are you ready to get into a relationship with someone who has marriage as the end goal when you don’t even have your life figured out? Are you really mature enough to handle his relationship with his ex, when you can’t even maturely handle things with your roommates sometimes?
Would being with you be a good thing for him and Nari? Or would they be better off with someone else? Someone with goals and passions, and their life a little more figured out. Maybe someone who has a kid of her own, because she knows what it’s like already. Someone older and more mature with a good job. Someone who is nothing like you.
You didn’t even notice that you started crying, but when you come back, your eyes are blurry and your cheeks are sticky with old and new tears.
“Okay,” you say. You try to smile, but your chin is quivering. “I’ll let you know when I’ve thought through everything.”
When you go back to his room to get you things, you give Nari a tiny kiss, and you tell her that you’ll miss her. As you walk past Jeongguk to his front door, he doesn’t try to stop you this time.
You love Jeongguk, you’re sure that you do, but maybe being with him isn’t what's best. Doubt has made a home in your heart, that warmth you long for nowhere to be seen or felt.
AYOOOOO don’t scream at me too much, that's not the end lmao but whoa... how’d they go from kissing to crying just like that hmm... also, opinions on the ex wife?? genuinely curious bc i actually dont hate her ?? 🤔 anyway, i hope you liked it, if you did please do all the things~~ please reblog, like, comment, send an ask... very curious about how we feel about this one 🙇🏻‍♀️ thanks for reading and as always i love u, sorry im posting late lol byeeee <3
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chateautae · a month ago
hotter than hell | jjk. (m)
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banner by miss solaris @jamaisjoons <3
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➵ summary : jungkook, lucifer and king of hell, has been cast out of the crimson underworld for a reason he’s unsure of. embarking on his journey for the answer should’ve been easy, if it weren’t for you, the human that nurses his wounded body in her home, and accidentally witnesses the truth of his identity. kickstarting a hellish adventure with the devil himself, you discover lucifer is the most infuriating company ever; and jungkook finds out that maybe his answer to returning home lies within his annoying human confidant.
↳ part of the Namkook Moonrise Masquerade collab hosted by @jamaisjoons
➵ pairing : fallen lucifer!jungkook x human!reader
➵ genre : supernatural/fantasy!au, romance, e2l, road trip, angst, fluff, eventual smut, three-shot
➵ rating : 18+
➵ word count : 27k
➵ warnings : swearing, angst, alcohol consumption, semi-biblically-accurate depictions of angels and demons, supernatural themes, mentions and depictions of sin, s e x u a l  t e n s i o n, neck-kissing, straddling
➵ a/n : WHY HELLO EVERYONE here’s the demon lucifer jk as promised!! i stayed up an entire night just to create the plot, i hope it delivers!! it’s literally one of the my favourite ideas ever hehe. this is the first part of a three-shot :) please excuse any mistakes or error since I didn’t have a beta and will probably get someone to do so later 🤧 PLEASE IMAGINE MOTS ON:E DAY 1 MY TIME JUNGKOOK FOR THIS Y’ALL, enjoy!! <3
➵ playlist : asshole by hooligan chase
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| 01 | 02 | final. |
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‘Why is she looking at my man?’ 
‘I need to get blackout drunk.’
‘Damn, that girl is fucking hot.’
‘I’ll steal it when he isn’t looking.’
Jungkook’s head rings with an innumerable amount of others’ thoughts, and he can’t seem to silence the blaring volume of them at all.
He’s roaming in complete confusion, clutching his palms over his ears because shit, is everything just so loud. His feet hurt too, when have his feet ever hurt? Why can’t he fucking fly? Why does he suddenly feel so cold?
Jungkook’s bleary vision catches sight of neon signs and lights that invite head-splitting migraines. His usual leather outfit suddenly feels like it’s sticking to his skin too much, and what is this constant pang he feels in his stomach?
He doesn’t know, all he knows is that this isn’t hell, and he definitely should not be here. 
In all his thinking, his shoulder smacks into a passing stranger and he scolds them with stern eyes, only to ram into someone else yet again. 
Fuck, that hurt. Why did that hurt? When has he ever felt pain at all? Jungkook grunts in frustration as he weaves through passing bodies in the streets and eventually tumbles before a closed store. The second he looks through the window, his eyes widen in sheer horror. 
He’s.. he’s human? 
No, impossible. He can’t be human, where did his red eyes go? Why can’t he see his wings? He snaps quick glances at his shoulder blades and finds them empty, even reaching behind his back to only feel a seamless leather jacket. He looks at his hands and sees them just like his usual form, but when did he lose that natural, searing heat to his skin? 
Jungkook can’t think, he can’t understand what’s going on but can only comprehend one very obvious, almost laughable thing. 
He’s been cast out of hell. 
He laughs, then laughs some more because shit, is that goddamn funny, comedic, absolutely hysterical. Lucifer, the king of hell himself, has been cast out of his own kingdom? Sent to Earth as some measly blubbering, putrid human? 
The second Jungkook whips his head around to a horn honking, his equilibrium unbalanced itself, that incessant ringing in his ear returning. He feels too fucking dizzy, the axis of his entire world spinning. Groaning in dull pain, he begins stalking down the street with his clammy palm to his head. 
He bumps into more people and staggers, but he doesn’t care when he can still feel that same agonizing headache plaguing him. His eyesight begins to lose precision, and before he advances, he feels his knees buckle into the nearest alleyway. He drops to the ground hard, and his surroundings disappear before he feels his cheek meet the cold pavement. 
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Monday’s are so goddamn boring. 
Absolutely nothing is special about the dreadful day. All you ever desire is to crawl into a hole and slowly perish. And the only remedy to such an issue? At least to you, it would be a nice, steaming cup of coffee. 
But what absolutely trashes even the taste of coffee on a Monday?
The fact that it’s a Monday.
You drag your feet down the street, listless and exhausted after a tiresome day at work. You loosely clutch your bag over your shoulder as you trudge along, paying attention only squarely in front of you when suddenly, your feet ram into something. You almost trip over, furrowing your brows in confusion as you zero-in on the culprit. 
Once your vision becomes clear, you immediately squeal out in shock. You look carefully to find a man lying unconscious nearby a dumpster, appalled by the disgusting trash that litters the area next to him. 
You step slowly towards the stranger, finding that he’s actually quite… handsome. No, scratch that, he is drop-dead gorgeous, his looks almost too devilishly attractive. He appears fairly young to you as well, maybe the same age as you. You scan his outfit next and find him in a quite showy leather outfit; black boots, sheer-patterned shirt that exposed his body, hair flawlessly framing his face. 
You could’ve believed he was a fallen angel, his almost ethereal aura screaming of an existence far from here. His face structure is almost perfectly crafted from the finest marble, his nose looks boopable and his adorable lips naturally fall into this charming pout. 
Though his cuteness was not to be taken head-on, because you could only imagine what such a beautiful man’s eyes look like, and what allure remained hidden within them. 
You shake your head out of the compromising thoughts, swallowing as you contemplate what to do next. The most logical thing would be to call 911, that would help him out the most, wouldn’t it?
You whip out your phone and tap your screen, only to gain no response. You quirk your brows, clicking your power button and finding your device completely drained of battery. You groan with a roll of your eyes, too shy to inquire another stranger on the street for their phone.
Weighing on the decision that the stranger most likely has a phone, you bite your lip before squatting down by him. You precariously reach into his jacket and gently search for any pockets inside, only met with empty ones. You target his leather pants next and surprisingly come up dry of a phone or wallet, no keys or even a damn stick of gum. 
That leaves you with a real head-scratcher. The stranger seems to have absolutely nothing on him, now suddenly curious of whether or not he's even dead or alive. Heart quickening at the prospect of this being a dead body, you nervously gulp as you carefully take his wrist, and place two fingers against his pulse point. 
You thankfully feel a faint heartbeat and release a breath of relief, thinking quickly on your feet. You couldn’t just leave the stranger to fend for himself, it was already cold tonight and God knows what would happen to him without any of his necessary belongings. 
On a whim and out of sheer concern for the man’s well-being, you decide to haul a cab and take him home with you, hoping to also treat that nasty wound on his cheek. 
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Jungkook feels his consciousness resurfacing, head heavy, legs weighing a ton. His eyes flutter open to a white ceiling, darting around to find himself not on the street, not in hell, but inside a quaint apartment.
He furrows his brows, rubbing lazily at an eye once he does a quick once over of the place. He sincerely doesn’t understand where he is or what he’s doing here, but right now his head is still pounding too hard to even contemplate his next move. 
Sitting up, he swallows to find his throat desert-dry, stomach producing this weird gurgling sound he can’t piece together an answer for, and his eyes feel this hefty weight behind his lids. 
With a sigh, he rises to his feet, steadying himself. He sighs at just how annoyingly human he is, feeling the sensation of his legs aching, his neck adopting a crook from being awkwardly perched on the couch’s armrest, even his cheek stinging with something. 
He touches the afflicted area and instead finds some sort of cloth taped over him, wondering what in the hell it is. He touches it some more, and applies pressure only to hiss at his wound, rolling his eyes at the sensation of pain. 
With a deep exhale to release the frustration from his body, Jungkook notices he can still feel the fiery pits of hell coursing through his veins. That hot flame is still alive inside him, something heated still within his blood and he’ll be damned if he doesn’t do something about it. With a focused mind and a composed breath, Jungkook attempts to revisit the very first, innate thing about his older form, imagining conjuring up his red, glowing eyes. 
He squeezes his eyes shut tightly, and envisions them glowing crimson before he opens them again, feeling a smoldering heat spark in his irises. He spots a mirror by the front door of the apartment and peers at himself, finding his eyes a vibrant, almost fiery red. 
He smirks, proud and satisfied. He’s still got it in him and he’ll be fucked six ways from Sunday if anyone can tell him otherwise. Feeling confident and alive, Jungkook attempts to conjure up some flames in his palms. Lo and behold, after a tense second of undivided focus, a fire gushes open in his bare hands. It feels just like when he’s perched on his throne in hell, Jungkook cracking another smug grin at the power he still holds. 
In that moment however, he hears the distinct clatter of something tumbling to the ground, and whips around to the noise. He shockingly finds a human woman staring at him in utter terror, hand clutched to her heart with her phone on the ground, and cowering into the wall as she shakes profusely. 
You’re stunned, flabbergasted, downright terrified out of your wits seeing the same man you found unconscious in the street now with fire flushing out of his hands. You see him begin to approach you and you’re overridden with fear, screaming at the unnatural sight before you. 
You scream, you scream and scream and look around for objects of any sort. You spot a small bottle of body spray on your hallway counter and immediately fling it towards the man for defence. 
“Get away from me, get away!” 
“Woah, hey, hey! Calm down!” 
But you don’t, and you instead throw other obscure and heavy objects towards him only for him to either burn or dodge them, eliciting even more of your panic. He’s getting closer as he attempts to pacify you, darting by him and running directly towards your kitchen.
Your frazzled brain isn’t thinking and you immediately fling open a cabinet, reaching for the very first thing you see and rapidly grasp a pan. You hold it up ready for punishing the man before he scrambles and hushes your ear-splitting shrills, holding up his hands in surrender. 
“Wait, wait, stop! Shh!” 
“How can I not scream when your eyes are literally red?!” 
Jungkook struggles for a sentence. “Look, just, shh. You’re gonna alarm the people in your building!” 
“That’s the fucking point?! You’re a maniac!” You yell and grab open your drawer of utensils, beginning to chuck forks and spoons at the frantic man. 
“Hey, stop! Would you-stop throwing shit!” Jungkook yells frustratedly as you send him a scowl, only catapulting things harder in response. But suddenly, Jungkook burns a butter knife you haul his way, and fearfully watching it melt right before your eyes. They widen in absolute horror.
You’re seriously, and very horribly fucked.
Panic invades your chest and you spot your phone lying on the ground near your bedroom door, quickly bolting towards it in hopes of calling 911, or at least somebody for help. You dive towards the floor and snatch up your device, racing mind unable to sift through contacts efficiently enough before you feel strong arms quickly caging around you. The stranger traps your wriggling body as he attempts to grab at your phone, yelling angrily. 
“Are you insane?! Why are you calling someone?!” 
“Because you’re a fucking maniac!” 
You struggle against the man’s burly hold and flail around hopelessly, utterly panicking realizing how strong he is.  
Screams escape you as you useslessly fight each other on the floor, incessantly attempting to weaken his grasp. The man with much larger hands than yours however nabs your phone and tosses it into your room somewhere, attempting to hush you as you squeal and kick at him profusely. 
“Stop it, stop! I can explain myself!” 
“I don’t want to hear your fucking evil plan before you kill me!” 
The man’s arms are still, curled around you and hugging your back to his chest, but it’s not a warm welcome at all as he keeps you from escaping, all while you holler incoherently at him to release you. You grow tired of the shenanigans and stuff the meat of his hand in between your teeth, sinking them in with enough force to harm him. The man exclaims in pain as his arms detangle from you. 
“Ow! What the fuck?!” 
You rapidly rise to your feet in search of your phone. It’s laying near your bed and you scamper off towards it, bending down with a grabby hand to reach it, but suddenly feel the man’s heavy figure hurtle you onto the bed. You both tumble onto your mattress, the handsome stranger on top as he locks down your thrashing hands, eyes urgent as he regards you below. 
“Woman, please, please stop screaming.” He warns crucially. “I’m not someone people can know about, we’ll both get in shit!” 
“By who? You’re the only freak here!” You wiggle your smaller wrist out of his grip and reach over for a stray cushion on your bed. You feel the fleecy material in your hand and harshly begin smacking the man with the pillow. 
“Oh c’mon-what the fuck?!” You disarm him completely as he falters at your hits, the stranger toppling onto the ground as you recklessly beat the living hell out of him. 
He crosses his arms over his face in an effort to protect himself, knowing even if you run now, the man seemed strong and smart enough to capture you again; two deadly combinations that could mean your demise. So you decide to keep senselessly whacking the cushion at him until he eventually tires, and you’ll make a break for it, or Mr. and Mrs. Tran next door will most likely come to your rescue. 
You stand above him and yell profanities as you practically abuse the stranger with your pillow. However, the man latches a hand onto the pillow to halt you and causes the cheap material to completely tear open. Feather’s instantly fly out of the cushion and fill your room with white fluffiness, groaning in complaint at the mess. 
You disregard the $4 ripped-up thing, and return to smacking at the man with the pillow cover. 
“Why. The. Fuck. Did you. Rip. My. PILLOW?!” You howl between each of your attacks and the man struggles on the ground as he exclaims in pain, blinded and barely able to shout in return. 
“Are you fucking kidding me?! Why are you beating me up?!” 
“Says the one who ripped my pillow and tried to murder me!” 
“I’m not even-what!” The stranger shrieks in disbelief. “I never tried to murder you! I didn’t do anything wrong!” 
That response actually halts your actions, freezing once you truly contemplate the stranger didn’t try to exactly kill you or anything, and you’re then in fact assaulting him for no concrete reason. As your easily distracted mind wanders, the man suddenly pulls at your legs with grabby hands. You squeal as you suddenly land on top of his rather muscular body, crashing onto him hard. 
Funny enough, you end up apologizing for settling over him so roughly. “Oh my God, I’m so-” 
“Shh, shh.” The man pushes his index fingers to your lips and his own, shushing you both. There’s a long moment of silence, both you and the albeit, gorgeous man staring into each other’s round eyes as your chests press into each other’s tightly, feathers slowly cascading down around your entangled bodies. 
You swallow as you watch the man underneath you in fear, wondering why he hushed you. You open your mouth to question him but he only shakes his head, warning you with a hush again. 
“Shh, I hear footsteps.” 
Suddenly, your front door is racked with a few hard raps. 
“Who’s-” The man begins a question but you immediately smack your hands over his mouth, silencing him. 
“Shh, don’t say anything!” 
He removes your dainty hands from his lips and surprisingly holds them quite gently. “But is it the police-” 
You clasp them over his mouth tighter, your face and his suddenly mere inches from each other as you tut him. “Shh! They can’t hear another voice!” 
“Honey! Are you in there?” 
You both pause, wide-eyed and frozen in time as you hear the voices of the nice couple that live next door to you. Your fight or flight mode kicks in, stress hormones on high alert as you register the idea of them seeing a random man in your apartment. 
Let alone you on top of him like this.
They’ll assume the worst and get too worried for their own good, sighing with immense anxiety. You rapidly scramble off the leather-wearing stranger and snatch up his wrist, quickly tugging him upwards and onto his feet. He balances himself and you quickly shove him onto your tousled sheets and disorderly feathers. 
“Look, just-stay here.” You hiss in a whisper, gesturing to him to stay put like a pet dog as you rapidly kick some stray feathers that escaped into the hallway inside your bedroom. You fix your outfit with a few strokes and begin shutting the door to hide the man, until he suddenly calls you back with a whisper-yell. 
“Wait, woman!” 
You poke your head back in with an incredulous ‘what the fuck?’, and the man rises as he steps speedily towards you. His hands jut out for what you believe to be in effort to harm you, but instead find your hair and smooth down some of your wild locks, even picking out a fuzzy piece of feather that stuck to your bangs. 
“Oh..” You quietly exclaim, running your hands through your hair for a quick fix.
“Dear, where are you? We’re getting very worried!” You hear Mr. Tran yell more urgently this time, and your hands smack against the strangers to unhand you, pushing him back within the four walls of your bedroom and shutting the door on his handsome face. 
You compose yourself once you’ve done so and reach your foyer, swinging open your front door. 
“Oh dear, Y/N, we were so worried, honey. Are you alright?” Mrs. Tran holds her hand to her chest as she takes a deep breath, Mr. Tran soon joining. 
“Is anything going on, sweetheart? We heard so much yelling.” 
“I’m okay, Mr. and Mrs. Tran. You don’t need to worry about me at all.” 
“Are you sure you’re okay, dear? There was an awful lot of screaming.” Mrs. Tran’s eyes flit around your apartment discreetly. 
“I was just on video call with my friends and they decided to play a scary prank on me.” You bellow out a fake laugh and watch them lighten up, buying the lie. 
“Oh gosh, we thought we heard another man’s voice and got so scared! We’re so glad you’re alright, dear.” Mr. Tran laughs with you, and you kindly reply. 
“Oh not at all! Thank you for checking on me, Mr. and Mrs. Tran.” You smile big and wide to appear okay, momentarily snapping your vision towards your bedroom with a gulp. They end up bidding their farewells and you watch them entirely enter their apartment, sighing with relief once their door closes. 
You shut yours, and practically stomp over to your bedroom as you hurl the door back open. The man on the other side practically leaps when you do, staring wide-eyed with raised eyebrows at your angry expression. 
“You have a lot of explaining to do.” The man watches steam figuratively blown out of your ears, and a little noise escapes the back of his throat that almost sounds like a laugh. 
“Did you just laugh at me?” 
“N-no.” He brushes off sauvely. 
You roll your eyes and snatch his wrist again, dragging him over to your living room and abruptly halting just before your couches. You shove him towards them and he snaps a testy look at you, taking his seat. 
You decide to stand and look down at him as he crosses a leg and lays his arm against the backrest, sitting as if he owned the place. You fold your arms and tap your foot in anticipation, eyes pissed and steely. “Well?” 
“Well, what?” 
“Do you not owe me an explanation?” You quirk an audacious brow, attempting to fathom what just transpired in the last 5 minutes.
“Explanation.. of what exactly?” He tilts his head and watches you with fascination, and it was now you realized his eyes weren’t glowing red anymore, they’re the colour of chocolate brown. But that doesn’t mean what you saw was a hallucination or a mind-trick either, you remember exactly what you witnessed with your naked eyes. 
The man seems to feel a crook in his neck. Your once occupied attention now snaps to the way he stretches it out, listening to the cracks of his bones that sound practically inhuman. 
“Why the hell did I see fire coming out of your hands? And your red eyes? Who the fuck are you?!” 
The stranger has an ah-hah moment, and understands you with a small nod. He goes from a non-committing look of disinterest to a mirthy smirk on his face, one that almost seemed devilish. He lets out a proud sigh as he hoists himself up, standing tall before you as he suavely tugs at the lapels of his leather jacket. 
“Well, I’ll cut to the chase,” The man quirks his eyebrows and plays with his lips in this undeniably sexy way you can’t help but find hot, blinking away the thought before it consumes you. 
“I’m Lucifer, the king of hell, baby.” 
You blink; once, twice, then three times. You stare at him dumbfounded, as if that would help you understand what he just so casually uttered. You finally let out a noise akin to a scoff. “I’m sorry, what?” 
“I’m Lucifer. You know, fallen archangel? Satan? The Devil?” 
You blink. “Do you think this is a joke?” 
The so-called Lucifer furrows his brows. “Huh?” 
“I nursed you after finding you unconscious on the street, and now you want to joke with me?” 
“But I’m not joking..?” The man seems acutely confused, even tilting his head in this innocent way that completely contrasted his scorching hot looks. He even peers so vividly into your eyes, it's as though he could read every corner of your soul. He towers over you, you also realized. His height is so significantly taller than yours that he has to crane his neck to look down at you. And all of sudden, the way your eyes shift up to meet his gaze feels oddly searing, almost like you feel something hot ignite within you when your lines of sight lock.
“There’s no way in hell you’re Lucifer, buddy. Tell me who you really are and maybe we can talk.” 
“But that is who I am,” Jungkook emphasizes, watching him step closer to you. He suddenly leans down to be eye-level with you, staring directly into your pupils smugly before cracking an evil grin. “Let me show you.” 
Your lips fall into a quizzical pout as you watch him perplexedly before you, and witness the man’s eyes suddenly morph from a warm coffee brown into a dull, flaming colour of dark scarlet. You flinch, watching the image of almost a smoldering fire in his eyes, and the coy way he tongues his cheek gives you the impression he’s a man dripping in sin. 
He blinks and rids himself of the flames, straightening up. “Believe me now, angel?” 
You couldn’t fathom this information, nor the pet name he just used on you. Did you in fact find Lucifer, the devil himself unconscious in the street and brought him into your home? Even nursed him and let him crash in your living room? Not that you regretted it at the time, you do remember admiring his absolutely gorgeous face and couldn’t help but openly gawk at him. 
Of course Lucifer had to be scorching hot with a face that could be sat on.
So-called Lucifer suddenly cracks a grin and chuckles, narrowed eyes snapping to him. “Why’d you just laugh?” 
“Nothing,” The man shrugs, amused eyes scanning you over. “You’re kinda cute.” 
You scowl at him sternly and roll your eyes, clearing your throat as you address him. “Well, Mr. Lucifer-” 
“Jungkook,” he gestures with a hand before folding his arms. “Just call me Jungkook.” 
“J-Jungkook.. what in God’s name are you-or not God. What in hell’s.. the devil’s name?” You become confused trying to form the question, pensive finger to your lips. 
“What am I doing here on Earth, is what you’re asking?” 
You nod with big, curious eyes, though still hold an adorable amount of annoyance within them Jungkook couldn’t help but notice. Said man flashes an evident look towards your lips before he continues. “To be honest, miss. I have no clue.” 
You purse your confused petals as you figure  that’s not exactly much to go on. You wonder what a celestial being of such high caliber could possibly be doing on Earth, let alone appearing to you like some rockstar that missed out on his opening act for Elvis Presely. 
“You didn’t tell me a name.” 
Your eyes flicker to his. “Huh?” 
“Your name.. I don’t know it.” He flatly remarks as his hands slip into his pockets, still eyeing you, almost examining you with that intense stare that seemed to burn you alive. 
“O-oh, right. My name..” You nervously laugh, arms crossed over your chest. “Y/N.. Y/N Y/L/N.” 
Jungkook jerks his brows in amusement, doing that thing where he tongues his cheek, and now you suddenly wonder why he plays around with his tongue so much. “That’s a nice name.” 
“Thanks,” you rigidly respond, not exactly knowing what to do. You’re all but traversing the many thoughts swarming your head; is this even real? Is this a dream? Is this some sort of colossal, sick joke someone’s playing on you? 
But you’re interrupted by the sound of a sudden gurgle, knowing you’ve already eaten dinner, and discerning it’s coming from your otherworldly companion. 
“Umm, are you hungry?” 
“Shit, is that what this is? Hunger?” Jungkook pulls a disgusted expression and pretends to throw up, lamenting horribly. “Fuck, I really am human.” 
You roll your eyes as he puts on a show of fake-sobbing, his pretentiousness eliciting a scoff from you. “Look, do you wanna eat something or starve?” 
Jungkook lightly pouts his lips as his shoulders slump and hands falter, eyes suddenly much more innocent. “Eat, I think? It’s not good for a human to not eat food, right?” 
You realize with such a question how little knowledge Jungkook possesses on humans, and with a hard sigh, you nod as you lead him towards your kitchen. 
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You watch Jungkook literally devour all the leftovers you housed in your fridge; fried chicken, some old Chinese, even the pasta and ravioli you’d left earlier today all down his stomach. You feel full just watching him when you lean your elbows over the counter, seriously inquiring about him. 
“So, wait, repeat that again?” 
Jungkook scarfs down a slice of pizza in practically a whole second, speaking messily through a full mouth. You try not to grimace. 
“Basically, I was cast out of hell and now…” Jungkook swallows as he reaches for a tall glass of water. “I have to find my way back in.” 
You blink multiple times to compute the information. “So for some reason you were kicked out of hell, and now you need to find your way back? Why the hell were you kicked out in the first place?” 
“I have no clue,” Jungkook takes another swig of water to wash down the dense content of his food. “All I know is that I need a way back in.” 
“Do you at least know how? Or what you need to do?” 
You watch him slam down your glass after finishing off, and now, you find every plate you presented to him nearly wiped clean. “I have no clue about that, either.” 
You deadpan. “What the fuck?” 
“Look, human. All I know is that I can find the answers I’m looking for. I just don’t know where to start.” You sigh, cradling your cheek in your palm as you watch him pat a napkin to his lips, and all of a sudden it draws attention to the soft petals. 
Why are his lips so damn kissable?
Jungkook’s eyes suddenly flicker up to yours and you snap out of your trance, swallowing. “W-what? Have you never been on Earth before?” You internally facepalm yourself for your idiotic stutter. 
“Nope, not at all.” 
You narrow your eyes. “Then how do you even know how to act like a human?” 
Now it’s Jungkook’s turn to deadpan, an elbow coming up to rest on the table as his other hand cups over his thigh, leaning in. “Are you forgetting who I am, angel?” He smugly asks. “I’m the devil, watching humans is part of my job.” 
You shoot him a testy look for the pet name again, but become curious of his job all of a sudden. “What do you even do as Lucifer? Sit on a throne and hear the screams of poor souls perishing in hell’s fire?” 
Jungkook genuinely laughs at your words, and you become even more annoyed. “What?!” 
“You’re quite right,” Jungkook sends you a proud nod, though he suddenly leans in closer, and he’s now bridged the gap between you and himself over your kitchen counter. He’s close, close enough you catch a whiff of this crisp, warm, though attractive scent off him. It was practically beckoning you closer with each breath in. The heat that radiates off him is almost scalding alone, swallowing as his proximity calls this certain side of you to jump out. 
Or more so, jump him. 
Jungkook smirks again, wetting his lips. “But I’m also the king and master of sin. I draw people’s deepest, darkest secrets out of them. All the bad in them.” 
He deliberately eyes you, almost too hard. It's as though he’s searching every crevice of your mind and can suddenly see all the hidden, disguised aspects of yourself. Now the air’s suffocating, those searing eyes you swear turn scarlet at one point so immensely bewitching you, it’s hard to look away. 
You can feel this almost magnetic pull towards him, eyes darting down to those cute lips of his again. But you immediately brush it off, knowing men like, well, devilish men like him love using their charms to entrance whomever they deem weak enough to fall into the trap. 
You scoff, looking away. “I’ve gotta take a shower.” 
You abruptly rise from your seat. You swipe your phone with you as you watch him settle into his chair, arms folded and now appearing very bored. You sigh as you glare at him, wondering how you’re meant to keep Lucifer of all people entertained. 
A question pops into your head, having mulled over it since you’d nursed him on your couch. “Hey, demon.” 
His gaze flickers to you, chewing on his lip. 
“Do you have a place to stay?” 
You watch as Jungkook actually becomes uncharacteristically shy, shifting awkwardly in his seat. “Not exactly, no.” The column of his throat bobs as he gulps. “Why? Are you trying to kick me out?” 
You laugh, covering your smile when you do. “No, I’m not like whatever higher power that casted you out of hell.” 
Jungkook’s smile returns then, less snarky but now actually more.. charming? “Funny and cute. I like you, human.” 
You narrow your eyes with a curt reminder. “Human’s not my name, demon.” 
“And demon’s not mine, either.” You contort your lips into an annoyed pout and stare him down. He returns the challenging look, though lightens up for his next question. “So.. can I stay here?” 
You don’t take much time to consider your answer, knowing your empathetically-cursed character could never deny the homeless man shelter. “I guess so. I don’t think it’s smart to let you roam the human world with your little knowledge of it.” Jungkook moves to deny you the insult of his pea-sized brain, but you calm him down. “I don’t mean it offensively. I mean it for your safety, Jungkook.” 
He settles down, understanding. “Yeah, I get you.” 
Jungkook seems to then regard you with a much more amicable look, his eyes conveying unusual, though present gratefulness. Suddenly you become interested in exactly how human Jungkook really is, seeing as he appears as human as it gets, but exactly how Lucifer is he still? 
“If I may ask.. are you really.. human on earth? As in.. do you have a different form in hell?” 
Jungkook finds the question endearing, laughing a little. “Not really. I appear like this in hell too, all the way down to my outfit.” He gestures towards his attire. “Though in hell I have wings. My eyes permanently glow red and I usually have flames surrounding me.. mainly my wings.” 
You’re stunned, now contemplating the image of Jungkook with these wide, gorgeous wings. You’re left completely speechless, envisioning the flames that probably burst out of them like a Phoenix rising from the ashes. 
“They must be beautiful.” You don’t even realize you let your thoughts slip aloud, regaining focus when you see Jungkook smirk through a laugh. 
“I-I mean.. are you sure you’re human? I mean your skin and all.. do you even need to sleep?” 
Jungkook tilts his head side-to-side for an unsure answer. “Eh, it’s different now that I’m on Earth. In hell, I’m at full power and never need to sleep, eat. Shit, I don’t even feel pain. My flames act as a sort of protective shield, I never incur injuries.” Jungkook elucidates casually.
 “But it seems the rules are different for me on Earth. I get hungry and thirsty. And this,” he gestures towards the small bandage you placed over his cheek wound. “Means I don’t automatically heal, and the exhaustion in my body means I also require sleep.” Jungkook simultaneously yawns as he informs you, covering his mouth. 
“And your skin..? Is your body entirely human?” 
Jungkook cracks a chuckle and his devilish eyes land on you, staring into your soul yet again. He props off his chair without warning and suddenly steps towards you, towering over your smaller frame again. His eyes remain locked with yours as he removes the lapels of his jacket, peeling back the item as he tongues his cheek. The action calls attention towards the sharp edge of his jawline, noticing how attractive it makes his thick neck appear. 
Fuck, if only you could mark a neck that pretty. 
The sound of his sudden snort reels you back into reality, watching him strip his jacket off.
“Jungkook-” You panic to cover him, but he continues, tossing the jacket onto the couch behind you as he then employs his fingers towards his nearly sheer, black-patterened dress shirt. You grow nervous as you watch him dislodge each button, wanting to avert your eyes and do so, but something about him beckons your sight back. Eventually he casts his shirt open, and your eyes nearly fall out of your sockets. 
Jungkook is ripped, as in he has the sexiest body you’ve ever witnessed in your entire life. The Statue of David must be jealous, hell, Aphrodite herself would probably choose Jungkook over ugly ol’ Adonis; that is how gorgeous he is. 
“Touch me and see for yourself.” 
You gulp, wide eyes flashing towards him. “Huh?” 
His lips curve into a smug grin, emphasizing his already drop-dead gorgeous face. “If you want to know whether I'm human or not, touch my body.” 
You suck in a breath, suddenly his open shirt exposing his sculpted torso is making your brain go haywire. The deep timbre of his voice saying such words already have you in shambles, wondering when he became so goddamn irresistible?
You can see each divot and protrusion of his muscular body, his abs prominent and his chest downright sinful. Though it’s his tiny, almost delicate waist that has you swooning, practically drooling over the hour-glass figure of his stunning, practically ethereal body. 
You snap a look at Jungkook, and his eyes await you as he watches with pure mirth. You hmph, acting as though this isn’t a big deal when you step closer and slowly, but surely press your palm to his chest. You lose air the second you feel the rock hard muscle.
Fuck, can I squish my face between his pecs? 
You shake your head and hear Jungkook let out the tiniest of laughs, shooting him a grumpy look. You then carefully traverse his skin, being able to feel the beating of his heart, the flesh and blood that make up his body. He feels warm.. almost too warm and it’s as though he’s.. calling you. Your body feels that magnetic pull again, wanting to either devour him whole or litter his body with your sinful kisses. 
It rushes through your veins and floods your lungs, filling your bloodstream with this instinct to simply jump him, touch him, bring this ravenous, dark side of you out into the world. Your breathing increases speed; suddenly he’s all you see and you can feel your body needing him just like you need air, like you wouldn’t survive without him until.. you pull yourself out of the trance. 
You physically rip your hand away and breathe erratically, as though you weren’t yourself just now. Your perplexed eyes blink multiple times to allow the rush to subside, and swallow harshly as you look away from him. 
“What.. what is that?” 
“What’s what?” 
“That-that thing. That fucking attraction to you or whatever..” 
He displays a lop-sided grin on his face as he quirks his brow amusingly, scoffing. “I’m Lucifer, angel. I breed sin wherever I go.” 
“What-what do you mean?” You peer at him with annoyance but also.. intrigue? This was oddly interesting to you, never have you felt the effects of something so utterly hypnotizing, attractive, alluring.  
Never have you felt your heart hammer and mind race like that. 
Jungkook makes it a statement to subtract the space between you two, your bubble invaded by his bare body as he carefully circles a palm around your arm, searing eyes boring into yours. “It means whatever sin you think of; lust, greed, gluttony, envy. They’re all heightened when you’re close to me, and worse if anyone’s lucky enough to touch me.” 
Your vision locks with his, finding the explanation to that scalding heat of his body. 
He’s goddamn Lucifer. 
“But.. I touched you.” 
He breathes a laugh through his nose. “And I don’t let just anyone touch me, angel.” 
You narrow your eyes at him, tugging your arm out of his hold. “Why do you call me angel?” 
Jungkook lightly gestures towards your chest area, and before you can grow offended over his line of thinking, you flicker downwards to find that your pajama t-shirt for tonight has the word ‘angel’ written across it, then adorned with wings and a halo around the text. 
You scoff, returning to him. “Really?” 
“That, and you seem to radiate the energy of an angel.” 
“And how exactly do I seem to do that, demon?” 
Jungkook’s fingertips find themselves preoccupied with feeling a piece of your hair, letting himself watch the action with a faint smile. You would smack his hand away, but his softer eyes look towards you, and you swallow nervously when you feel that heated attraction to him once again. 
His open shirt is already difficult to ignore, and you can’t seem to want to shove him away.
“Angels are pure, and true. They’re virtuous and serve the good of the universe.” You feel his hot breath tickle your skin as he decreases the gap between you two. His eyes remain locked with yours as he releases your hair. “But one thing to be known about angels,” He leans in closer, and pierces your soul with his searing heat. 
“They’re not as innocent as they seem.” 
He does it again, peering as if he knows something about you, deliberately searches your eyes as if he can sift through your mind, and you need to simply break away from him. His lips are too close and fuck, do you already find his lips so goddamn kissable. Not to mention this now supernatural pull you have towards him heightening your darkest desires. 
“I’m gonna take a shower, busy yourself in the main area.” You mutter almost incoherently. 
And all you hear is Jungkook’s muffled laugh as you scurry away. 
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The sounds of the TV running quirks your brows, ruffling a towel against your damp hair as you enter the living room. 
You find the odd sight of Jungkook holding a remote in his hand, lounging on your couch as he watches an episode of Friends. A laugh escapes you, not having ever imagined Lucifer doing something as mundane as watching TV. 
His eyes shift towards you at the sound of your chuckle, Jungkook sitting up much straighter. 
“Welcome back, human.” 
“It’s my house, demon.” 
Jungkook kisses his teeth as you approach him, your towel hanging around your shoulders. His eyes remain on your face for a while, though they travel down your body with a little scan. You realize it’s your short-cladded legs he’s observing, then returns his sight to you. 
“What are you wearing?” 
“Pajamas?” You answer him with a chide. 
He purses his lips in this certain manner of understanding, leaning his arm against the back of the couch, legs manspreading almost indefinitely. This is when you earn the opportunity to really view Jungkook’s legs, and fuck, are you goddamn mesmerized. His strong, thick thighs are hugged snuggly by those leather pants, and they do him a damn service by emphasizing their muscular, sexy build. His legs are also long, you notice, perfectly presenting his lap to you and it takes every ounce of your being to not so obviously look at his bulging crotch; naturally bulging crotch may you add. 
I swear if he’s packing too, this’ll just be unfair. 
Jungkook cracks a scoff all of a sudden and you narrow your vision, scrutinizing him. 
“I asked you a question?” He suddenly says.  
“Huh?” You blink; he must’ve queried you when you spaced out. “What did you ask?” 
“I asked if that’s how humans usually dress for the night.” Jungkook repeats himself. 
“Well, yeah. You wanna be comfortable when you’re sleeping, less clothing is usually the answer.” You reply honestly, arms crossed over your chest that adorns no bra. “You’re a guest in my home, and this is how I dress.” 
“You consider me a guest?” Jungkook inquires with a slight smile. 
“Well, yes. To be fair, I’m the one who brought you to my home, you didn’t infiltrate it or anything.” You offer him a shrug. 
You watch Jungkook genuinely grin at that, amused eyes flitting to you. “You’re nice, human.” 
“Thanks.” You’re not sure how much a compliment from Lucifer matters, but you take it anyway. 
“Oh shit, you don’t have anything to wear tonight, do you?” 
Jungkook’s round eyes wander off in thought, and it’s now that you notice his eyes are actually quite.. cute. “I don’t think so. I assume sleeping in an outfit like this wouldn’t be comfortable, as you say.” 
“Yeah, just hold on. I’ll come back with something.” 
You return to Jungkook with a set of comfortable clothes in hand, presenting them to him. “Here, I think these should fit.” 
Jungkook quirks a brow as he peers at the clothes with incredulousness, then you. “You’re going to make me wear that?” 
You roll your eyes as you regard the Hello Kitty shirt and grey sweatpants in your hands. “This is my biggest oversized shirt, okay?” You attempt to defend yourself. 
Jungkook appears as though his ego is hurt, a baffled hand to his heart. “You expect Lucifer, the king of hell, to wear something like this?” 
“It’s either this or no clothes, buddy.” You try to reason with him. 
Jungkook smirks then, standing to his feet before you with an amused and suggestive attitude. “I mean, I don’t mind not wearing clothes. But I think the only person that’s gonna have a problem with that is you, angel.” 
God, his eyes just scream the fiery pits of hell and mischievous mirth, who fucking knew Lucifer could be so obnoxious? His sense of confidence is suffocating and he seems as egotistical as the high school captain of a football team. 
You shove the clothes into his, dare you say, rock hard abs and huff with a scowl. “Just take the fucking clothes and change, demon.” 
Jungkook scoffs with barely-there acquiescence, inspecting the clothing items as he picks out the sweatpants. “These sweatpants don’t look like they belong to a woman.” 
“They’re not mine.” You absent-mindedly grumble as you make your way towards your kitchen, deciding on tidying up the many plates Jungkook left scoured from his feast. 
“Whose are they?” 
“Ex’s.” You reply flatly, compiling the plates together and nabbing the utensils he used. 
Jungkook nods in understanding, though now seems a bit out of place holding the pants. He reveals what could’ve been... sympathy? Pity? You don’t know. 
“Why are they in your apartment?” 
“He left them here after I kicked him out.” Jungkook notices the way you seem too casual while washing the plates, querying again. 
“Why did you kick him out..?” 
You set down the plates harshly in the sink then, producing a loud clattering noise. “Could you just fucking change?”
You didn’t mean to say it so sternly and with a cold-cut tone, but you settle once you see the taken aback expression on Jungkook’s face. You bite your lip as the water runs over your now cold hands, sighing as you return to your dishes. “I’m sorry. Just-get changed, please? That outfit must be bothering you.” 
Offering your words a little sweeter this way seems to dissemble the look of surprise on Jungkook, nodding as he visibly zips his mouth shut. Jungkook then begins to unbutton his pants right before you, undoing and just about tugging them down until you rapidly hold up your soapy hands to halt him. 
“Wait-wait! Not here!” 
“Don’t get changed in front of me, change in my room or something!” You attempt to mask your line of sight. No way would you goddam let yourself see whatever beast Lucifer is hiding in his leather pants. 
“And why would I need to do that? Haven’t you seen a man naked?” 
You roll your eyes at his snarky remark, knowing there’s got to be another smug grin on his rideable face right now. “I have but I haven’t seen you naked. Just change in my room please.” 
Jungkook lets out a grievous huff as he fixes his pants back on. “Fine, I’ll be back.” 
He snatches up his clothes and finds his way to your bedroom, shutting himself inside after flashing you a purposefully saccharine grin. You exhale once he’s disappeared, now running through the millions of thoughts that plague your mind. 
Is this really what your life’s now come to? Housing Lucifer in your home? You do digress on the matter that it’s not his fault. He’s been cast out of hell for a reason he doesn’t know, and it’s not like he was provided an elaborate guide on how to get himself back in either. 
You assume it must do with learning a valuable lesson or performing some sort of task, though it’s not like you know what the mighty powers above have in store for an already ethereal being such as Lucifer. You weigh your options here, maybe you can simply let him live here as a roommate until he can find a way back, right? 
Considering he has no means of living in the real world; ID, wallet, phone, fuck, even a passport, he won’t be able to get around easily. So for now, you might as well let him slumber with you until he deals with whatever introspective prospect of himself he needs to clean up. 
Your bedroom door clicks open as you find Jungkook emerging in your ex’s sweatpants that actually fit him quite well, and a stifled giggle escapes you once regarding him in your blush pink Hello Kitty t-shirt. 
“Well, you look just about ready for your hellish throne, don’t you?” 
“Fuck you.” He harmlessly exasperates, dragging his feet towards you with slumped shoulders. “You couldn’t have found me a shirt that maybe had anything to do with hell? Like that one sitting on your chair by your desk?” 
You scoff, scrunching up your facial features in disbelief. “No way would I give you my Thrasher t-shirt.” You glower. “It’s my favourite t-shirt.” 
“And I’m about to become your favourite person soon, hand it over.” Jungkook holds out his palm and requests the shirt with an arrogant curl of his fingers, sending him a deadpan expression and shoving his hand aside. 
“Maybe if you help me clean up my apartment and the dishes I’ll consider the offer, demon.” 
Jungkook rolls his eyes, kissing his teeth yet again. “You made a mess of objects in your apartment by throwing them at me, and now I have to clean them up, human?” 
“Who’s the ‘human’ that’s keeping your identity as Lucifer a secret and is letting you live here for free?” Jungkook pulls his lips back guiltily at that, pursing them with an affirmative nod before reluctantly getting on with his task. You quietly huff as you watch him compliantly clean up the mess, glad that he can at least follow instructions. 
It boggles you actually. Did you just instruct Lucifer, the obnoxious ruler of the Underworld to do something, and he listened? Do you now have one of the most powerful beings in the universe wrapped around your finger for offering your home? The thought paints a smirk onto your face. You did not begin this Monday at all thinking you’d be in the good graces of the devil himself. 
Too preoccupied with your thoughts, suddenly a searing heat beside you startles you. You peer up to find Jungkook slotted right next to you and picking up the dishes you’ve sudded up, silently rinsing them with this pout on his lips that seemed like a natural habit.
You quirk an inquisitive brow though, hands having stopped moving. “What are you doing?” 
“I’m helping you?” He replies obviously. 
You absorb the kind gesture and loosen up a little. “That’s.. kind of you.”  
“What? Didn’t think Lucifer could be kind?” He’s teasing you now, his eyebrows jerking in an amusing way that shows you he just loves the game. You roll your eyes, nudging his elbow as you bite back a smile. 
“Get to work, demon.” 
Jungkook suppresses a grin. He rather contorts his lips in acquiesce as he continues to wash diligently, humming a tune very similar to The Beatles’ “Devil in Her Heart”. 
And you quietly chuckle. 
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“There,” you gesture with an accomplished grin, hands perching onto your hips. You and Jungkook both look on at a makeshift bed you had crafted for him in your room, eyes peering at him for approval. 
He observes it with a critical lens, pensive pointer finger and thumb stroking his chin. “Is this meant to be where I sleep?” 
“Of course, where else would you sleep?” 
Jungkook’s eyes flicker towards your queen-sized bed and very obviously gestures towards it. “Maybe on the entire bed in your room? Did you think I don’t know that humans sleep in beds?” 
You exhale with irritation, palm smacking your forehead. “You can’t just sleep in my bed, genius. I barely know you!” 
“And what’s so bad about a man and a woman sleeping in the same bed?” Jungkook questions argumentatively. 
You send him a glare. “Like I said, I don’t know you and your intentions, and sleeping is when humans are in their most vulnerable state.” 
Jungkook contorts his lips with dislike. “I’m not going to unsolicitedly touch you or anything, if that’s your concern. All you are is a measly human to me, I have no attraction to you.” He holds up a hand in protest. 
“Excuse me?” You gasp. “Are you saying I’m unattractive?” 
“So now you want me to think you're attractive and want to unsolicitedly touch you?” 
You halt once you see the flaw in your argument, brewing in resentment as you watch him grin proudly. “That’s what I thought, human.” 
“Fine, you know what? Either you sleep on this lovely bed I made for you on the floor, or you sleep on my couch.” 
Jungkook sticks his tongue out and blows a wet raspberry, arms folded over his hard chest. “Fuck your couch, it put this damn crook in my neck.” 
You clasp your hands together and emphasize the most pathetically sympathetic pout in the universe. “Awh, did little Luci get an ouchy?” 
“Are you asking me to burn your couch? Because I’ll do so without hesitation, angel.” 
“Ugh!” You suddenly burst out into figurative flames, standing square before Jungkook to address him seriously. “Alright, demon. Since you seem to be the epitome of a picky child, you can sleep in my bed with me.” 
Jungkook’s face purposefully lights up like an elated child, gasping comically loudly just to get on your nerves, but you halt him with a finger. “But, we’re putting a barrier of pillows between us.” 
Jungkok scoffs with folded arms, hating that the action called attention to his bulky, bulging biceps in a funnily contrasting women’s shirt. “Not like I wanted to cuddle with you and catch your human disease, anyway.” 
You exclaim disapprovingly at the way he spits the term, hands perched on your hips with a speedy retort. “Well fuck you and your smoldering heat, demon. When I asked for a new furnace I didn’t mean you.”
Jungkook childishly mocks your expression, rolling his eyes. “Whatever, if you need a furnace then clearly it gets cold at night, and then we’ll see who’s cuddling up to who for heat.” 
You watch him practically throw open your covers and shuffle inside, hmphing as you step off in search of your light switch and shut it off. “Whatever.” You weakly grumble back. 
You settle into your covers as you harshly shove a bunch of pillows between you and Jungkook, not even daring to spare the infuriating man a look, turning completely away from his figure. You huddle into your side like a fetus once the night really kicks in, cursing your goddamn furnace for supplying such sparse heat while your window leaks chilly air through the old cracks. 
You shiver all while Jungkook seems to completely knock out in peace, most likely from his first oh so tiresome day being human. You’re welcomed by his light snoring for hours as you roll your eyes in contempt. 
Wanting to pin it on him for so irritatingly interrupting your much-needed sleep, you become annoyed not just with Jungkook’s snoring, but that he was right. 
You really wanted to cuddle up to him for some goddamn warmth that night. 
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You bop around to the Beatles’ 1963 track Jungkook was humming last night, pushing around some strips of bacon in your pan, messy hair tied and in your lounge wear. You’d cracked a few more eggs and cooked more bacon for your annoyingly hellish acquaintance. 
The chilly night really didn’t serve you well as you froze in your spot, only shuffling towards Jungkook after peeking at his slobbering, snoring state of sleep. You were thankful he still radiated such an abundant amount of heat, that finding relief in the small waves you could feel even over the pillow barrier wasn’t too difficult. 
Your pride kept you from removing even a single cushion. 
You produce playful noises from your lips as you busy yourself, setting up some breakfast considering your house does not only have a population of one anymore, but two, and it still continues to shift the axis of your world. 
Was last night really your reality? Are you sure that wasn’t just a wild figment of your imagination? It had to be, even if you believe in the supernatural, there was no way such a superior celestial being could so casually be a guest in your home. 
You’re reminded of that certain special guest when you suddenly hear a loud thud in your bedroom, concerned eyes perking towards your ajar door. 
“Demon?” You call. 
You gain no answer, wondering if you truly did just imagine all the events from last night. 
“Jungkook-!” Said man tumbles out of your room then, groggy as all hell as he lazily rubs his eyes and appears to you as death himself, though still delectably hot. 
Ugh, fuck him. 
“Y/N.. shit.” He addresses you, and suddenly the deep, gravelly tone of his morning voice makes your core inadvertently clench. “Y-yes?” 
“I crashed into your damn vanity in the bathroom.. why is everything of yours so tiny?” He complains first thing in the morning, now remembering just how frustrating the king of hell really is. 
“Maybe you’re just too big, demon.” He grunts his response, stalking over to you as he can’t seem to adjust to the morning light filtering into your apartment. 
You watch him approach you, gathering the necessary tableware for a quality morning breakfast. “How’d you sleep, demon?” 
Jungkook’s barely-open eyes scrutinize you as he seats himself on a stool by your counter, covering his mouth when he yawns. “Meh. I had this… this thing. I saw these pictures in my head when I was sleeping…” 
“A dream?” You assist him as you pour out a glass of milk. 
“Yeah, whatever the fuck it’s called. Anyway, I think.. I think I saw something that’ll help me get back to hell.” 
That pries your eyes open with intrigue, setting the glass of milk down for him on the counter. “Oh shit, already?” 
He nods, and you find it actually quite endearing how much his hair was tousled into this attractive bed-head, eyes puffy, lips pouting. “I saw this club.. I remember seeing it when I used to be in hell.” 
“A club?” 
“Mm,” he replies with a confirming hum as he reaches for the glass, lightly inspecting the drink as he continues. “It’s this exclusive club only for celestial beings. I heard about it sometimes among my demon subjects, but I was too busy being the mighty king of hell to give a crap.” He haughtily regards himself as he takes a moderate swig of the milk, licking his lips as he nods in approval of the beverage. 
“I like this, what is this?” 
“Milk,” you elaborate. “What about this club?” 
Jungkook takes another lazy sip as his eyes scan over the food you now plate on the counter. “Well, it’s obviously only meant for celestial beings. Demons and angels. I’m thinking if I can find even one of my demons, I could find out where the club is, and then figure out why I was kicked out of hell.” 
“Ohh,” you remark with understanding, setting aside the pan and spatula, while nabbing two forks from a drawer. “So you just have to visit this club then, correct?” 
“Correct,” Jungkook answers. “There’s just two things.” He begins as he takes the fork you hand him with ease, impressed by his adeptness for such human, mundane things. 
He must’ve watched humans for a brain-numbing amount of eons. 
“One, this one’s mainly angel territory.” 
You raise your brows in question, arms crossed and eagerly interested in the information. “There’s more than one?” 
“There are clubs scattered around Earth, it’s to allow celestial beings a place of refuge when they visit here.” Jungkook explains. “I remember seeing an American flag when I landed here, so I’m assuming I’m in America, and the only existing club here is in Chicago.” 
“Chicago?!” You exclaim with utter shock. “That’s across the entire country from here!” 
“Not the point, human.” He cuts you off with a finger. “Point is, that club will be crawling with angels, and as Lucifer they may not welcome me with open arms.” Jungkooks sets his fork down against your counter with a sigh, almost seeing his mind shift its locks and gears. 
“The only way I’ll be able to get in is if..” He pauses, serious eyes locking with yours. “Is if I bring a human with me.” 
You blink; rapidly, then slowly, then rapidly again somehow hoping it would change what you just heard. “Come again?” 
Jungkook sighs, his facial features already telling you he finds this difficult to discuss. “This club in Chicago is angel-dominant, meaning demons need to bring a human companion in order to get in. Like a truce, a sign we mean no harm.” Jungkook elaborates. “And even as Lucifer, I don’t think my charms and wit alone can get me through considering my less powerful, human form.” 
You scoff at him shamelessly tooting his own horn, wondering if he’ll ever tire of it. “Sounds like a real pickle, Luci. Wonder where you’ll find yourself a ‘measly’ human.” You snark with a snort, placing the milk back in your fridge and reaching for your mango juice. 
You swivel back around to a Jungkook who doesn’t smirk, nor grin nor tongue his cheek condescendingly, but simply leans his elbows over the counter and pressingly peers at you. As if communicating with his eyes alone… 
No, no way. No way in the fiery pits of Jungkook would you goddamn do this. 
“Jungkook, don’t you dare..” 
“Human.. it’s important.” You scoff through a humourless laugh, setting down your carton of mango juice and gesturing towards yourself in disbelief. 
“Me? You want the human to be me?” 
“Y/N…” Jungkook quite gently calls your name, a complete contrast to his arrogance and while the sound of your name on his tongue lights something within your chest, you can’t help but snort with utter derision. 
“No. I’m not fucking accompanying you all the way to Chicago just for some innocence show-and-tell.” You immediately deny him, contemplating just how crazy this is. How in the world could you just up and leave for some travelling with the devil all the way across the country? You couldn’t even take a goddamn flight considering dear-old Lucifer’s lack of passport ID. 
“Y/N.. look. I know it’s not ideal for you, but this is seriously important.” Jungkook emphasizes with a persuasive tone. “I need you…” 
Those last three words and the look of pure need in his eyes tug at the strings of your weak heart, groaning in complaint. “Jungkook, you can’t be serious. I-I have a life here! I have friends and a job and not to mention school starts back up for me in a month-” 
Jungkook suddenly rises from his seat and paces over to you, grasping a careful hold of your hands and the innate warmth he emits from his skin actually feels.. comforting. 
“Y/N, look. I get it. You have a life here on Earth, a place where you belong. But I have a life in hell, a place where I belong. Wouldn’t it be best to just accompany me and get me back to hell so I can get out of your hair?” 
“Jungkook…” You counter with an uncooperative tone, eyes communicating sympathy, but you can’t offer him the help he needs. “I can’t.” 
“This will benefit both of us, human.” Jungkook convincingly states. “I go back to hell faster, and I leave you alone faster. I know how much you don’t want me here.” 
You hesitate, eyesight faltering to your connected hands; his thumbs are actually soothing the back of your hands? When did he start doing that? 
“That’s not exactly true…” 
“Y/N, just come. I know it’s asking a lot but I really need this.” Jungkook pleads. 
“And what will you do for me in return if I come with you?” 
“Oh, Y/N, I’ll do anything. The faster I can get back to hell the faster I reclaim my full powers, and I’ll grant you anything you desire. I promise.” You’re uncertain of how strong a promise from the devil could be, deterring you from giving him an answer he wants to hear. 
With a sad sigh, you disconnect your hands from Jungkook’s. “I really can’t, Jungkook. It’s non-negotiable…” 
You watch as the usually confident, cocky man falls into an expression of glumness, silently retracting his hands. He scratches the back of his neck awkwardly as he acquiesces, though seems silently upset. “Okay..” 
The gloomy pout to his cute lips does you in. “Look, Jungkook. I’m going out with friends tonight for drinks at this bar. Maybe you can tag along and you can easily find another human? I’m sure any girl would be willing to roadtrip with a super handsome guy like you across the country.” You attempt to present a peace-offering with a joke, hands shoved into your sweater paws as you hug your chest. 
“But those humans won’t be like you..” He groans with a huff, eyes evading you. 
“And what’s so different about me?” 
“You already know I’m Lucifer, that makes things 100x easier for me.” He argues. 
“Well, I found out and I ended up accepting you. Who’s to say you won’t find another human like that?” You plead your case, but Jungkook just scoffs in reply. 
“Please, do you not remember what happened when you saw that I was Lucifer?” You recall the fiasco of forks, flinging and feathers, sighing once you see his point. “Exactly. Besides, you saw me as Lucifer by accident, I can’t just be revealing my identity to anybody. It’s not allowed.” 
“But I know..?” You question genuinely, gesturing towards yourself. 
“Like I said, by accident. Though I’m assuming the Council won’t see it that way, and they’ll come for me anyway.” Jungkook more so mutters to himself as he frustratedly tongues his cheek and steps around, brewing with stress. 
“The what?” You question. 
Jungkook rolls his eyes, as though now registering just how annoyingly human you are. “Think of them as angel police, yeah?” 
You mimic his tone purposefully and he impersonates you back, scoffing to end the interaction. “Look, if you already have these angel police people on your ass then what’s the harm in telling another human? They’ll be chasing you anyway.” 
Jungkook laughs dryly, looking away from you as he shakes his head. “I can’t just do that, that’s not how it works.” 
You sigh, watching the way his jaw flexes because he’s grinding down on his teeth too hard, a clear sign of his anger. You hate that it emphasizes the sharp edge of his jawline, and that it’s actually fucking hot. 
He suddenly breaks into the slightest laughter that holds some amusement, wondering what he’s laughing at. Nonetheless, you decide to defuse this situation and try to comfort him. You meant it when you said last night you wanted to be in Lucifer’s good graces, but also remain in them no matter how irritating he is. 
You approach him amicably and grasp his bare bicep, brushing his arm in support. “Look, Jungkook. Just come with me tonight and try, okay? Maybe your answer is just an arm’s length away.” 
Jungkook’s eyes find yours, and you watch them glimmer with something akin to understanding, surprisingly loosening up at your touch. Though his irises are soon blanketed with his signature mirth as he eyes you, feeling the heat of his body suddenly radiate off him like a heatwave. 
“You sure you want me to come tonight, angel? Your friends may think I’m your scorching hot boyfriend.” 
You produce an appalling noise of disapproval, removing your hand from him and shaking off his Luciferness. “Fuck you. I’m telling them you’re my roommate and that’s final.” 
“And where exactly did you find me as a roommate? On the street?” Jungkook laughs as you shoot him a crabby glare, not missing the way his amused eyes flit over your figure with almost… likeness? 
“I’m telling them you’re a co-worker. No way am I saying I just found you on a whim, they’ll think we’re-” 
“We’re sleeping together, right?” 
You grow aggravated by the sly way he’s folded his arms and does that stupidly attractive thing where he tongues his cheek, fed up with his suggestive fun. You quickly snatch your kitchen towel in your hands and roll it up into a punishing device, rapidly smacking at him. 
Jungkook exclaims playfully as he dodges your hit. “Wo-hoah, human. Didn’t I tell you angels are good and pure beings? They don’t hit people.” He laughs as you grunt in frustration and follow his retreating form for another whack, actually landing it against his arm. 
“Hey, bad angel!” Jungkook tuts you light-heartedly as he cleverly evades your angry attacks. You hate that even while he’s riling you up, you actually liked the image of his glowing, entertained smile, his cute teeth reminding you of a bunny. 
“Says the obnoxious Lucifer!” You holler loudly in complaint, chasing him while your once warm breakfast turns unfavourably cold. 
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“And this is Jungkook, my co-worker!” You cheer as you present Jungkook to your group of friends, earning wide smiles and gawking eyes from your female friends and equally surprised male friends. 
“Hey, everyone.” Jungkook waves with a confident smile, showcasing his adorable teeth for a lovable grin. 
Did he seriously have to be cute too?
You snap out of it once you see your friends all greeting him kindly, Jungkook only left to shyly smile and reply shortly to all the inquiries he gains. His lost eyes find yours and he reveals genuine fear in them, silently requesting you to come join him and let up the traffic of questions. 
A snort escapes you as you watch on, who knew Lucifer could actually be awkward? You swear he should’ve been a natural with people, though you contend he just doesn’t do well with so many questions at once. 
To be fair, he’s never been around other humans before either. 
You grant him mercy by sliding in beside him, shooting pleasant grins all around as you answer the dozens of questions your friends ask about your new gorgeous co-worker. 
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“Doesn’t he just look like one of those men that’ll eat you out until he can’t breathe?” 
“Oh for sure, looks like he’d stuff himself full and even when you tell him to breathe he just says no.” 
“Hell, he’d be that type that pulls your hips back down over his face when you try to let him breathe.” 
“Guys..!” You interject as your friends Madison, Naila and Kiara all giggle together. You’re all huddled together drinking by the bar as your friends become more interested in observing Jungkook in all his dripping sexiness. 
And to be honest, you don’t really blame them, he’s wearing that scorching hot leather outfit again. 
“Y/N, seriously. How could you not tell us someone that hot worked with you?” 
“This has got to be a crime, were you gate-keeping him?” Naila suddenly complains as you quell their grievances. 
“Guys, he just.. got transferred to my department recently. He’s new.” You find a quick enough and convincing lie. 
“How did you two end up even living together? There had to have been some sort of meet-cute.” The girls all gush together when Kiara asks, all eyes shifting towards you as they excitedly await an answer. 
“Well.. we just.. got on the topic of him needing a place and we hung out sometimes. So I offered my place.” 
You feel slightly cornered, but confidently answer with another white lie. “And he said okay.” 
They all squeal together like teen girls, honestly finding amusement in their reactions. “Ugh, you’re living the dream, Y/N.” Madison suddenly slings an arm around you and tugs you towards her, gesturing towards nothing that indicates her depiction of ‘the dream’. “You’re in a roommate situation with an absolutely scorching hot guy, you’ll totally end up either falling in love or banging him!” 
“What?” You squeak as you throw back a shot of tequila Naila handed you. “No way will that happen, he’s obnoxious as hell!” 
“Ugh, babes. Even if he’s obnoxious I bet that dick isn’t.” Kiara jokes and the girls all chuckle together, tipping back their shot glasses after filling some back up. You roll your eyes and smack her arm as she exclaims, trying to lighten you up. 
“Y/N, c’mon. You deserve to have some fun after that shitty fucking ex of yours. Live a little, ya know? Whether it’s love or dick, they’re both great remedies.” 
You scoff as your lips hover over a shot glass, eyes wandering the club as if you're occupied, but really, you know it’s in an effort to look for Jungkook. It’s funny you act like you don’t know where he is, when you know his exact location. 
Your eyes flicker across the bar, finding Jungkook having casually slipped into conversation with the boys tonight. He was laughing and happily tipping back shots himself, amused that he at least eased up and found some company with your male friends. 
Sights absorbed in suddenly eyeing him, it’s truly difficult to pry your gaze away. No way was this Jungkook’s impact of being Lucifer, you now knew you needed to be very close, or at least touching him in order to feel those effects. So why is it that you still feel this magnetic pull towards him? Can’t help but not only find him incredibly sexy in his usual outfit, but something so mysteriously alluring about him? 
Your body wanted him, you knew that much. Anyone with eyes and functioning reproductive organs would know that, but you couldn’t shake off the fact that it wasn’t just your body that wanted him.
He was just so intriguing, and you wanted to know more. 
Suddenly, Jungkook’s eyes casually shift from your friend Hobi he’s speaking to, and locks with your gaze across the bar. You freeze, eyebrows raising as you hesitate to take your shot, caught in a stare with him you can’t break. 
Jungkook stares back, and he stares goddamn good. He tongues his cheek again irritatingly and you try to swallow down the way he makes your core light up. Jungkook then tilts his head a little downwards with a cracked smirk, before he peers up at you again with eyes so devilishly smoldering, you could feel a sweat break out at the nape of your neck. 
You gulp as Jungkook then tips his head to the side with a light furrow of his brows, as if questioning you what’s wrong, and you lightly nod to him nothing. He laughs a little, hating that he finds this somehow amusing. You’re in the middle of narrowing your eyes at him until Naila interrupts you, Jungkook cleverly looking away then. 
“See, they’re practically eye-fucking already!” You shoot them all an annoyed look as you grunt in complaint. 
“Are you sure you guys aren’t together?” Madison inquires. “It seems like he already likes you, babes.” 
You click your tongue in disapproval. “He just likes to tease me, guys. Drop it, would you?” 
“As long as you land on his face, then everything should be good.” The drunk girls giggle together, and you can’t help but snicker at the joke. You contemplate in your tipsy head there really is something about Jungkook’s smoking hot face that makes it seem so rideable. 
“I’ll be back, guys. Stay here.” You instruct the girls as you set your shot glass down. You weave through the throngs of people mingling and dancing in the bar, ignoring your girls’ hollers of encouragement as you bee-line towards Jungkook. 
You reach the occupied man and tug lightly at the end of his sleeve for his attention. “Jungkook!” You shout over the blaring speaker the guys are all near. 
Jungkook’s vision snaps to you as he simultaneously touches your wrist to acknowledge you. Your skin ignites at a simple touch of his, feeling a rush you’ve never experienced before. You blink it away before lightly tugging him aside, speaking to him. 
“What’s up, human!” The booming bass of synth-pop beats abuses your eardrums, requiring both you and Jungkook to yell at each other. 
“Why haven’t you talked to anyone yet!” 
“Huh!” He hollers in response.
You exclaim in complaint as you lean in a little towards his ear, shouting louder. “I brought you here to talk to someone and bring with you, why haven’t you been talking to anyone yet!” 
Jungkook draws back and signals to you he can’t hear, rolling your eyes and curling your palm around his wrist, dragging him through the crowd. You tug him into the secluded restroom area where it’s much quieter, the shut door closing out the music. 
“Ah, that’s much better.” Jungkook notes. 
“I was asking if you’ve talked to anyone about Chicago yet, Jungkook.” You repeat yourself from earlier, hand still holding onto his wrist. “That’s what I brought you here for, remember?” 
“Hey, I’ve been talking to people,” Jungkook defends himself, though his expression falters into one of hesitancy. “Kind of..?” 
You glower at him, “Jungkook, what do you mean by ‘kind of’?” 
Jungkook sighs, shoulders slumping as he surprisingly doesn’t even make you let go of him. You can feel that rush of his energy coursing through you, but you manage the invasive feeling as you focus on the conversation instead. 
“I’ve been trying to get it out of me but.. I just never end up asking.” You exclaim in annoyance as you scold him.
“Jungkook, why not?!” 
“Because it’s just weird, okay, Y/N?” Jungkook argues. “I’m meeting these people for the first time, I can’t just fucking ask them to hitchhike with me all the way across the damn country.” 
“But it was completely okay to ask me?” 
Jungkook kisses his teeth with a roll of his eyes. “How many times do I have to tell you you’re different, human?” 
“Well, I’m not any different when you always call me a ‘human’ anyway, demon.” 
Jungkook becomes fed up with your pestering and scoffs. “Whatever. You’re the only human I can do this in front of and not have someone screaming their head off.” Jungkook emphasizes his point by conjuring up a hot flame from his palm. His suddenly glowing red eyes also appear, shooting you an ‘I-told-you-so’ look of challenge as you glare back at him. 
You’re seconds from retorting until you’re suddenly interrupted by the shrieking of a woman. You’re startled as your unsuspecting vision falls to a random stranger who had just ventured out of the bathroom and…
“Fire, fire!” 
You and Jungkook both look at the flame in his palm, then towards the woman in fear, finally locking anxious eyes with one another and panicking. Jungkook puts out the fire and you rapidly approach the woman to calm her down, hoping nobody can hear how goddamn loudly she’s screaming. 
“Shh, oh my God. It’s okay, it’s a prank. It’s a prank!” You repeatedly yell in order to shut the lady up, but she keeps yelling and trying to make a horrified break for her purse. She scrambles inside and you both watch her fish out a small bottle of something that’s engraved with almost-visible writing.
Holy Water. 
“A demon, it’s a demon!” She shrills so goddamn ear-splittingly, you and Jungkook leap into flight mode. He engulfs your arm in his and tugs you towards him urgently.
“Y/N, we have to go!” 
You curse repeatedly as Jungkook swings open the doors to the club and you shoot the woman apologizing glances, begging for her to put a damn sock in it. Jungkook takes the lead as he drags you out into the bar. He rapidly pulls you through people and ensures he keeps a tight hold of your arm, tugging you incredibly close to his own body as some sort of shield. 
Your friends end up seeing you both fleeing and shooting you looks of either ‘what the fuck’ or ‘get it on!’ as you practically hide your face in embarrassment. You and Jungkook hurtle out into the blissful night as he tugs you both down the way he knows you parked your car. You grunt in raging frustration once you realize that you parked it far with this place being downtown. 
“Ugh! You just had to fucking use your powers out in the open!” You complain aloud while you run with Jungkook, not caring now for the few late-night city stragglers hearing you. 
“Not my fault you keep nagging me about finding another human!” Jungkook argues as he continues pulling you down the road, the fear of authorities being called by the random woman scaring him. “Do you see now why you’re the only one who can come with me?!” 
You whine as you consider he’s correct, there’s no use in him searching for another human for ages when you exist right before his eyes. “Fine, fine! I’ll fucking go with you, asshole! Can we just stop fucking running?!” 
You become too tired to keep up with Jungkook, feet aching in your shoes once you realize how fast Jungkook was going, hands dropping to your knees as he releases you. 
“You… you run.. fucking fast.” You heave for air as you register the sweat on your forehead, having participated in too much exercise just now. 
“I’m a little faster as Lucifer, human.” Jungkook elaborates oh-so-obviously as you wave him off, squawking for air as though you were a fish out of water. 
“You okay?” Jungkook asks as he nears your bent over form with a hand, and you swallow harshly as you tell him to give you a minute. You’re focusing on resupplying your lungs oxygen until you suddenly feel arms cupping underneath your body, and are unexpectedly hoisted up in the air. 
You squeal as you find Jungkook’s lifted you off the ground bridal-style, freaking out at just how strong he is. “J-Jungkook, put me down! You can’t carry me all the way to the car?!” 
Jungkook swiftly ignores you as he begins jogging towards the direction of your car, and quite frankly does so almost too easily. “I’m fast and strong as Lucifer, human. I can handle you.” 
Jungkook quells your worries as your round eyes watch him flash a look down at you, and try to stifle the flutter of your heart when he shoots you a show-stopping smile. 
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It was the day of your trip, and having woken up at the ass crack of dawn to get on the roads early, you and Jungkook currently load your car with your luggage enough for two weeks of travelling. You groan as you rub an exhausted eye, yawning when you feel sleep still beckoning you to your warm bed. 
You stand frozen in your spot as you refuse to move the suitcase resting at your feet, rather staring at it with delirium instead. 
You feel a sudden nudge to your shoulder, finding Jungkook settling beside you. “Hey, sleepyhead, get moving.” He instructs in rather a light, encouraging tone, finding that very different from his usually pushy tone. 
Sight still filled with sleep, your eyes remain locked on Jungkook shooting you one last look before he’s hauling a duffle bag over his shoulder, and carries another heavy suitcase effortlessly, hating that it all made his biceps pop so goddamn sickeningly.
Did Lucifer really have to be ripped?  
You roll your eyes at how unfair this is; Jungkook having begged you last week to take him on a small shopping spree so he had enough trendy clothes to wear and didn’t have to keep sporting your Hello Kitty shirt. Not only that, but you had to spend even more bucks purchasing him necessary things to even live in the human world; his own toothbrush, cologne, hell, even boxers were on the list with Jungkook’s shameless ass promising he’ll shower you in gold once he’s ruling hell again. 
Jungkook suddenly waves his hand before your eyes, perking up as your eyes shift upwards to accommodate for his height. “Hello, human? I need you with me.” 
You blink rapidly. “Yeah, yeah. I’m here.” 
“You okay? I know you didn’t sleep well with everything you needed to arrange.” Jungkook’s palm curls around your arm, carefully inspecting your features. “How was your call with work?” 
“Not terrible. They were kinda pissed. I was asking for vacation time at the last minute but when I explained it was a family emergency, they weren’t so annoyed about it.” Jungkook approves of that as he rubs your arm supportively. 
“I promise we’ll be back in two weeks, and your life will go right back to normal, human.” Jungkook grants you another promise as he sends a small smile, earning a miniscule, tired grin from you. 
“Did you get the last of everything from inside my apartment?” You gesture towards your building. 
“Yeah, I got everything. Just your suitcase left.” You nod in understanding as you bend down to lug at your suitcase. You struggle as your palms fasten onto the bag but find the weight too much for your flimsy arms. You make a rather resilient effort to tug it towards the trunk of your car with all your might, until Jungkook’s hand suddenly replaces yours on the handle. 
His presence casts you aside as he shoots you a tight-lipped smile and lifts your luggage himself, tucking it into your trunk effortlessly and shutting the hood. You stand frozen at the sudden kind gesture, brows furrowed in confusion. 
Did he just do something nice for me? 
You decide not to snarkily comment on it, instead shutting your mouth and making towards your beat up Prius.
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Ironically, AC/DC blasts through your car’s speakers, snickering a little once you consider you genuinely are on the ‘Highway to Hell’. 
Your laugh catches Jungkook’s attention, who’s enthusiastically pretending to drum the exact beats of the rock song. With your peripheral, you find Jungkook completely enjoying himself before shooting a look at you, then back out on the road again. 
You and Jungkook were about 2 hours into driving now, having decided to blare the music in order to keep each other awake in the early morning. 
“You sure you don’t want me to drive, human?” Jungkook asks as he settles in his seat, getting comfy as your hands remain at ten and two. 
“Nah, it’s okay. If I don’t drive I’ll fall asleep.” 
“You kinda look like you need it.” You shoot him a glare as you move a hand to smack at his arm, to which Jungkook hisses and tuts. 
“Hey, focus on the road, will you?” 
You hear him laugh while you roll your eyes, returning your hand to the steering wheel. “Fuck you, do you even know how to drive, demon?” 
“Of course I do. It isn’t too difficult.” Jungkook shrugs as though you were both discussing apple-picking. 
“And how to hell do you know that?” 
Jungkook scoffs a dry laugh, taking a long, deep sigh. “Sweetheart, you have no clue how long I’ve been watching humans.” 
He reclines back in his seat as he shuts his eyes, tossing the heels of his shoes over your dashboard until you swat violently at his legs, sneering reprimandingly. “Hello? This is my car? Get your dirty feet off.” 
You shove his legs off and Jungkook awakes with a disagreeable scowl. “What the fuck? Can’t a guy goddamn rest?” 
“You’re Lucifer, Jungkook. Not a human, remember?” You purposefully chide with a saccharine tone, and you listen to him scoff. 
“Awh, he’e becoming more human everyday.” 
Jungkook mocks you before you find his arms tightly folding over his chest, huddling against the window as he genuinely attempts to get some shut-eye. You presume he’s not so used to needing sleep. 
“Do you even know if this is the right way, Jungkook?” You ask, ensuring with him every now and then if he wasn’t just simply leading you to your demise somewhere. Who knows, maybe the real way for him to get back into hell is by sacrificing a human life through a ritual or something. 
You shiver hoping that’s not true at all. 
“Yes, I know..” Jungkook grumbles with his closed eyes and an exhausted body, watching him peacefully come to rest. 
You decide to not bother him considering he did complete most of the work packing and loading all your luggage for the road trip this morning, needing to have woken up before you for the task. You shoot a glance at his resting state, his lips falling into that pout you’ve now noticed over the week, in fact, is a natural habit of his. 
He usually makes it when he falls asleep. 
With an acknowledging side-grin, you turn down the volume of the music, and focus on driving again. 
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“You just had to eat all the Fuzzy Peaches, didn’t you?” 
“No I didn’t, there were only three left once I even got the bag, it was you.” 
“And you couldn’t spare some for me? I’ve been driving for 4 hours!” 
That particularly stupid argument is what led both you and Jungkook to pull into this convenience store along the side of a quite bustling street. Car washes, lauder mats, even a brunch diner were all located in this small plaza ‘Ed’s Convenience’ was also in. Across the street from you was a supermarket, the rest of the area littered with stores whatever odd town in California housed. 
Currently, you were waiting for Jungkook to return to you from the convenience store. Despite now knowing him and his tendency to snack a lot, you allowed him to take your card after he promised that you would be given the choice of always deciding where you eat. 
You had to seriously discuss with Jungkook that money was going to be your biggest issue on this trip. Considering gas, eating out, staying at hotels, a lot of your own personal finances were going to be depleted just for this 2 week trip. Jungkook yet again, promised indefinitely that once he returned to hell he would be able to conjure up triple what you spent on him, along with a slew of fake-sobs that you reluctantly agreed to in order to shut him up. 
You roll your eyes remembering the interaction, having set a strict rule with him that your money will have to be managed and budgeted very well while on this trip. Sometimes you would both have to survive on convenience store food, sometimes it would be best to just camp out in the car together rather than always spending nights at crappy motels. 
The sound of gravel crunching catches your attention, soon finding Jungkook appearing before you. He was wearing black ripped jeans, combat boots, black shirt all tied together with his leather jacket, holding a bag of convenience store goodies as he plopped down next to you on the trunk of the car. 
He currently munches on some gummy worms as you watch him, finding that he probably appeared the most innocent when he was eating. His eyes go round as though he’s a child eating food for the first time, and he chews in his adorable pout you can’t help but admire, rather ironic for the sinful king of hell. 
You never expected to see him in such a domestic, human state. 
His eyes flash to you and you wake up from your trance, clearing your throat before flickering back to your laptop screen. “You’re back, demon.” 
“Mm,” he hums, reaching into his bag and suddenly presenting you with a bag of Fuzzy Peaches. You raise your eyebrows in surprise as your hand tentatively clasps around it. 
“For me?” 
“Well, you threw a whole tantrum over em’.” 
You immediately move to elbow him but he defend himself, laughing as he presents the bag of candy. You accept the bag with a scoff, disguising the grateful smile and flutter that threatens your heart at the gesture. 
“What are you looking at?” He inquires with narrowed eyes to get a better look at the screen. 
“Google maps. I know you said the club you need to visit is in Chicago, but do you know the exact location so that it’s easier once we’re in Chicago? I need to know which highways to take.” 
Jungkook nibbles on the last of a gummy worm as he pouts his lips in thought, watching the clear blue sky above him. “I told you, we’d have to ask one of my demon subjects in order to find that out.” 
You nod in comprehension. “Do you know anyone we could possibly visit for an exact address?” 
Jungkook reaches inside his packet for another bite of a gummy worm. “I do. I think most of my subjects would know, though the only one I can recall the exact location of is a demon named Azazel.” He snaps a piece of his gummy worm in half, bringing one of them to his lips for a nibble as he details. “He’s one of the Princes of hell, serves right under me. He likes to hang out at this one place in Nevada I think. He’d definitely know where the celestial club is located.” 
You purse your lips as you absorb the information, checking it through with him. “Prince of hell?” 
“Yeah,” Jungkook nods. “They’re these 7 princes that are meant to represent the Seven Deadly Sins. They’re a ranking just below me, powerful beings but they’d never dare defy me.” Jungkook proudly remarks, watching the way he straightens up his slouched back and squares his shoulders. 
“That’s interesting. Which sin does this Azazel demon represent?” 
“Lust. Or, well, vanity.” Jungkook clarifies. “But when I say he’s a super weird one, I mean it. He’s got his own very… unique tastes he thinks very highly of.” Jungkook grimaces as he seems to remember something bone-chilling about the demon. He then laughs, however, finishing off the last of his gummy worms as he regards you beside him, trying not to squirm at how much larger he is than you, or how he even makes damn ripped jeans look scorching hot.  
“Take a guess where you think we’ll find someone like him?” 
You furrow your brows as you tilt your head in question, Jungkook’s eyes lighting up at the adorable gesture of yours. “Where?” 
6 hours later, you stand frozen, mouth agape, legs unmoving. You listlessly stare at a loud, flashy neon-pink sign that depicts the image of an erotically-posed woman wrapped around a pole, along with the name “The Devil Wears Prada” ironically plastered underneath in cursive. 
It’s a fucking stripclub. 
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You peer at Jungkook absolutely bewildered, blinking a few times to compute whether or not he was serious. Jungkook merely stands all too giddy, arms folded over his chest as he flashes you a beaming smile. 
He’s having way too much fun with this.
“Jungkook..” You draw out his name with a scolding. 
“Oh c’mon, Y/N, it’ll be fun.” He attempts to warm you up to the idea, nudging your elbow too adorably. 
You shoot him a dirty look and snatch your arm away from him, exhaling annoyingly. “Did it really have to be a stripclub?” 
“Why?” Jungkook queries. “Have you never been to one?” 
You freeze, suddenly a lump forming in your throat and trying to swallow it down. You’re not sure how you’re going to tell Jungkook that you actually have without revisiting a long-gone memory from your past. Your eyes evade him completely then, squeezing your folded arms tighter. “I have.” 
Jungkook furrows his brows. “Is.. there a problem?” 
“No just-get us inside, will you? It’s not exactly warm out here.” You begrudgingly complain as you harshly tug your cardigan around yourself. You hate that the temperature suddenly dropped significantly at night, leaving you freezing in your tank top, jean shorts and a measly wool cardigan. 
You internally groan then, not just at the weather but standing in front of this Godforsaken place. The entire idea of a stripclub is off-putting to you, and it’s not like you’ll tell Jungkook exactly why. 
You didn’t want to recall the god awful person attached to it. 
All of a sudden, you’re enveloped by the warmth of a jacket around your shoulders. You surprisingly snap to your right and find Jungkook adjusting his cozy leather jacket over you, warm from his usual higher temperature. Your lips fall into a quizzical little pout. 
“Why’d you...” 
“Let’s go inside, we don’t want Azazel leaving, do we?” 
You regard Jungkook with round eyes as he simply sends you a smile, halting yourself from swooning over the deadly image. He wraps a warm palm around your wrist and drags you to the entrance of the club, silently following him with the hint of a shy smile. 
A long line awaits outside the door, but Jungkook confidently stalks over to the security guard on duty. The man almost protests angrily until Jungkook glowers at him with his crimson eyes, sending the man to instantly shiver with fear. He graciously opens the door for you both without a hitch, even granting you VIP access badges. 
Impression is all that colours you as you contemplate Jungkook’s mere unmatched power, knowing damn well you’ll refrain from pissing him off too much, You slip inside the lively club with Jungkook, and unconsciously slide your fingers into his with acutely rising nerves, squeezing slightly. 
And surprisingly enough, Jungkook squeezes back. 
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Your pairs of once peaceful ears are welcomed by the sound of raunchy music blasting over the speakers, scantily-clad women dancing on a neon platform with a shimmering pole, and also decorating the many suit-wearing men in the crowds. 
You feel out of place, awkward, only having been in a stripclub once, and it was not your best experience at all. You clasp Jungkook’s hand a little harder this time, even cowering into his much larger form as people pass you by and disregard all means of space. 
Jungkook’s eyes sweep over the place with nothing but mischief and mirth, watching his eyes smolder a fiery red with a smug grin.
“Fuck, now this is my place.” This must be exactly where Jungkook thrives; sin litters this place from left to right and you assume it’s channeling his powers of pure evil. 
You fear a human possibly sighting his Lucifer eyes though, and quickly prop yourself on your tip-toes. Your hand curls over his shoulder and you speak to him in his ear, Jungkook instinctively bending down. “Jungkook, your eyes.” 
“Hm?” His round orbs stare into your soul inquisitively, and you suddenly realize he actually has very big eyes, almost doe-like. 
“Your eyes, they’re red. Someone will notice.” 
“Oh,” Jungkook blinks a few times and dials down the heat, dispersing the colour. “Better?” 
“Better.” You nod. It takes a good second for you to notice how close your faces are to each other, however, and your breath catches in your throat. Jungkook’s lips curve into a little smile when he sees that, becoming too swept up in his ocean and immediately removing yourself from him. Only your hands clutch each other as you avert your sight. 
You continue to evade him and Jungkook instead zeroes in on you, scrutinizing your features. “Are you okay?” 
“Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?” 
“Oh my God, don’t tell me you totally lied about going to a stripclub.” Jungkook drawled. “You’re so innocent.” 
Jungkook makes it a statement to ruffle the top of your head, and you quickly smack his hand away as you send him a death glare. “I’m not lying, for your information. I have been to a stripclub, and I’m not that innocent.” 
You have no clue the things I’ve thought of.
Jungkook cracks a sexy grin. “Hmm, are you sure about that?” He leans in eye-level with you suddenly, and you lean back in accordance. “I’m sensing something else here.” 
“The only thing you should be sensing is Azazel, demon.” You shove him back and Jungkook lets out a hearty laugh, rolling your eyes in response. 
“You’re right, I actually can sense him. He should be here.” Jungkook scans the place with his demonic eyes, attempting to discern where exactly Azazel may be. 
You’re busy hmphing when you move to cross your arms, and realize that Jungkook, while distracted, is still holding your hand. You peer down at the means of contact, feeling a warm, fuzzy feeling suddenly spreading across your chest. You push it away once Jungkook turns to you, ensuring he doesn't catch you staring at your connected hands. 
“I think he may be in one of the VIP rooms, I’m going to check, okay?” 
“Wait,” you pull him back, Jungkook all ears for you. “Why are you going alone? I can’t come?” 
Jungkook chuckles a little. “Demons usually take up the vip rooms in this club,” Jungkook then suddenly tugs you towards him without warning, and you tumble directly into his chest. You peer up at him in complete surprise, only to find his smile absolutely shit-eating. 
“I wouldn’t want an angel like you in a den of sinners.” 
Your heart hammers against your ribcage, being this close to him just sets off an insatiable fire inside you that’ll never have an explanation anymore. Maybe it’s Jungkook’s attraction as Lucifer, you’re not sure, but suddenly feeling his chest against yours, mere inches from his lips, his eyes only on you in a room full of exotic, topless dancers, you feel yourself falling into his abyss. 
Why can’t I just kiss his cute lips?
A shove to Jungkook’s shoulder by a stranger snaps you out of it, immediately adding space between you two. “G-go find Azazel.” You see Jungkook crack a knowing grin before he holds up his hands in mock surrender. 
“Alright, alright.” He vindicates himself, but suddenly winds an arm around your shoulders, his lips brushing your ear. He tugs you close enough to catch a whiff of the coffee you both drank on the way here, trying not to ignite at the feeling of his lips touching your skin. 
“Stay here, don’t talk to anyone. Don’t take a drink from a stranger either, only wait for me.” He instructs firmly with a squeeze to your arm, turning to the side to question him why, but Jungkook has already let you go. He disappears into the crowd and booming club then, before you can even breathe. 
Damn, he really is fast as Lucifer. 
You suddenly become reclusive in the grandiose, erotic club. All you see are boobs and sexy women flaunting their gorgeous bodies, and as much as you find it downright impressive, respecting the hell out of the stunning dancers, a pit settles into your stomach.
Stripclubs just aren’t your thing, they never have been. Especially after what your asshole of an ex did to you in a stripclub before, they unsettle you to the very core. It brews a storm in your heart you can’t remedy nor can ever forget, sighing as you suddenly wish Jungkook didn’t leave you alone. 
What the fuck? When did you even need his presence around in the first place? 
You shake the jitters out of you. You won’t let some dark part of your past haunt you anymore nor think about the literal devil himself, you’re far beyond that and a healed person. 
You sigh as you contemplate what you’re meant to do now, Jungkook’s instructions of staying put and not even touching a drink producing your sheer boredom. You stand with your arms folded and step towards the bar ensuring you weren’t in the way of any dancing women, or didn’t catch the eye of some ogling man waving money. 
Blowing a raspberry, you silently bop around to a sultry rock beat as a new stripper presents herself on stage. Your own eyes are glued to her almost instantly, surprised by how gorgeous she is and mentally commending her for her graceful figure and well.. generous assets. 
Out of boredom, her show becomes your center of attention until a sudden tap to your shoulder turns you around. You come face-to-face with a very handsome bartender. 
“Sorry to interrupt, but this drink’s for you.” He sends you a polite smile. 
“Oh, but I didn’t order a drink.” 
“I know, I ordered one for you.” You’re internally taken aback by not only the man’s boldness, but his drop-dead gorgeous smile. A grateful grin creeps up onto your lips as you chuckle a little.
“And why did you do that?” 
The handsome stranger shrugs. “It looked like you needed one.” 
You slowly wet your lips as you try to keep from smiling too wide, encircling the glass. “That’s awfully kind of you.” 
“Don’t mention it,” he waves you off. There’s a simple moment where you’re merely looking at your glass, taking it in your hand for a drink until Jungkook’s voice rings clearly in your head. 
‘Don’t drink anything either.’ 
You furrow your eyebrows wondering why you exactly couldn’t. You teeter on either defying him or simply choosing to listen, not knowing how severe his order was. You buffer on the drink until the man’s rather hypnotizing voice pulls you out. 
“So.. what’s a woman like you doing here all alone?” 
You quirk a brow. “And who exactly is a woman like me?” 
“Too pretty to be alone.” 
You crack a chuckle at that, the charm he’s laying suddenly loosening you up. “That’s a good one.” 
“Good enough to know whether you’re alone or not?” 
You hesitate on an answer here, not knowing his intentions but giving him an honest answer nonetheless. “No, I’m.. not here alone.” 
“Are you here with a boyfriend?” 
Your heart stops at that, someone referencing Jungkook of all people as your damn boyfriend feels ridiculous. Even imagining such a thing leaves you sneering, and no the idea does not make your heart swell or your chest flutter. In no corner of the world will you find even a measly speck of you considering Jungkook as your boyfriend, a good idea. He’s only the smoldering hot king of the underworld that seems to actually be nice despite being the master of sin, has these cute doe eyes when he’s confused or these pouty lips whenever he eats. 
And he does not have you undeniably attracted to him. 
Not at all. 
“N-no, not my boyfriend.” You choke on your saliva. 
“Ah, so I don’t have to worry about a jealous man or anything.” He smirks all too handsomely. 
“And why exactly would a jealous man bother you?” 
“Because I’d like to make you mine tonight.” 
You feel your heart experience whiplash in your chest as you feel it bloom with fuzziness. Suddenly his smile is show-stopping, the way he leans over the counter emphasizes his muscles and his black button-up hugs his body like a second skin. 
“Have a drink and loosen up, gorgeous.” The smoldering bartender tongues his cheek, and suddenly his jawline is looking too good to not kiss up.
With a smirk of your own, you run your tongue inside your cheek as well, a fire lighting inside you. Your fingers curl around your glass of what seems to be a cocktail, suddenly thirsty for a drink. You eye up the handsome stranger as you bring the glass to your lips, tipping your drink over. 
“What the fuck are you doing?” Jungkook’s voice startles you as he suddenly clamps down on your wrist and displaces your drink, spilling some on you. “Didn’t I tell you not to drink anything or talk to anyone?” 
His sudden rude tone ticks you off. “Jungkook, it’s just a drink-” 
“Hey, man. I was just talking to her.” 
Jungkook’s eyes immediately become annoyed regarding the stranger behind the bar, quickly approaching him with a furious look. “I’m not some ‘man’, and I know you aren’t either.” 
Jungkook then violently grabs the bartender’s collar and tugs him over the counter harshly, the anger in his eyes absolutely searing. You panic as Jungkook’s harsh actions catch the attention of others nearby, your glass now empty as it spills over. 
“Jungkook-!” You try to pull him back, only to be completely surprised with what you see next. 
Jungkook’s eyes spark into a demonic fire as he stares into the man’s very soul, and you watch as the bartender’s irises suddenly reveal a deep shade of red himself. You falter back in shock as the man’s features immediately paint over with terror so horrific, he scrambles to be let go of.
“Sir, please-” 
“Get the fuck out of my face.” 
The once smirky and charming bartender turns into the equivalent of a crybaby, practically tripping over his feet as he runs off to cower away in the employee’s break room. Jungkook without a word snatches up your hand and begins leading you through the club, ignoring the concerned eyes that follow you two. You’re overridden by a million questions as he relentlessly pulls you, not even granting you a moment’s rest.
“Jungkook, Jungkook! What are you-” 
“Did I not fucking telling you to stay put and not talk to anybody? Did you think I said that for fun?” 
The irritation in his tone makes you feel guilty, and maybe you’re realizing your mistake, but Jungkook didn’t have to be so damn pushy about it. 
“I don’t exactly see the problem-” 
“That was the problem.” Jungkook suddenly stops you both before a dimly lit corridor as he gestures in the direction of the bar. His breaths are hot and heavy as his eyes cut you cold. 
“And what kind of problem was that? He was just a bartender-” 
“He was a demon,” Jungkook emphasizes. “This place is crawling with them.” 
Something about the anger in Jungkook’s face either makes you feel turned on, want to argue back, or a deadly combination of both, 
Why is it so sexy when his jaw clenches like that? 
You try to ignore the way your legs suddenly squirm. “So what if he was a demon?” 
Jungkook scoffs dryly, wetting his lips as he looks away. “That’s what the demons do here. They reel human women in with their charms, roofie their fucking drinks and get them alone.” He then mutters under his breath, focusing on nothing in particular with sheer indignation. “You have no clue the disgusting things he was thinking.” 
You scrunch your face in confusion. “And you do?” 
Jungkook rolls his eyes before he simply huffs, “it wasn’t hard to tell. Do you even know what a demon would do to an unsuspecting human like you?” 
His evasiveness and avoidance of making eye contact only increases your pissy mood, folding your arms with a pressing question. “And since when did it bother you what happens to me?” 
Eyes flashing to you, Jungkook only produces a mean look of hesitation. His jaw clenches as he gnaws at his teeth, lips impatiently pressed together. He then simply takes your hand in his, muttering yet again. “I found Azazel, let’s go.” 
And he drags you away as you unwillingly tag along. 
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You and Jungkook stop before a rather grand-looking door, noticing it’s probably the most expensive and exorbitant among the hallways. The entrance is perched by two guards on both flanks, a stern-looking man and an evil looking woman, both staring you and Jungkook down as though they could see right through you.  
Jungkook clears his throat, proudly presenting himself with a look of unbothered confidence. “Good evening, underlings. I need to see Azazel.” 
“And who might be asking?” The sultry woman practically slithers out her words. 
Jungkook rolls his eyes before he, for the dozenth time, flashes them his scarlet eyes, watching the stoic man raise his brows in surprised acknowledgement, as the woman merely shivers in pleasure. Both their own eyes glow a deep shade of ruby, and you now understand that they’re demons as well.
Did Lucifer have some sort of connection or invisible linkage between all demons? Was there something about his eyes? 
“Ah, the king himself is here.” She cheers, clasping her hands together with excitement. Her vision flashes down to Jungkook cradling your hand in his, though, but she doesn’t show any disapproval or bitchiness about it, rather seems intrigued. 
She abandons her post and makes towards Jungkook, her red dress accentuating every slim curve of her body. She laughs an almost harmonious giggle as her hands soon land over Jungkook’s chest, biting her bottom lip as she asks in a whisper. 
“Is it really you, master?” 
Jungkook merely laughs, tilting his head as he condescendingly asks. “Who else would it be?” 
Her eyes flicker with fire, fingers slowly feeling over much of Jungkook’s muscly body as he simply allows her to do so. His expression doesn’t really communicate much of anything however, as though he’s bored and simply letting the demon have her fun. Clearly the attraction to Jungkook isn’t just a human thing, he has practically all creatures on their knees for him, and he seems to know it too. 
Arrogant prick. 
A laugh escapes you suddenly, and the female demon’s attention immediately snaps towards you, eyes narrowed into slits. 
“And who might this be?” 
“None of your concern.” Jungkook tugs you a little closer to his body, almost shielding you. You can only intently watch, unable to do much of anything. But the female demon boldly ignores Jungkook, too enthralled by you to remain obedient. She approaches your figure with almost a cat-like nature, extremely curious and hyper-aware. 
You suspect absolutely nothing, until within the blink of an eye, she suddenly grapples the back of your neck and tugs you flush against her own face. You gasp in immediate fear when her fingernails transform into sharp claws. 
“Amara.” Jungkook scolds with a reprimanding tone as he squeezes your hand, but she only continues on, the bridge of her nose skimming the arch of your cheekbone. She actually sniffs you, and her lips curve into a downright demonic smile. 
“A human..” She chimes lowly, but is only interrupted by an irritated Jungkook. 
“Amara, let her go. She belongs to me.” Jungkook instructs firmly, and your heart does a backflip inside your chest. When did you ever become his? 
Even worse, when did you actually like the idea? 
“Is that why she’s wearing your clothes, master?” She queries as her sharp hand rests over your shoulder, feeling at Jungkook’s leather jacket on you. “Master never gives his clothes to anyone.” 
The fact leaves your eyes widening, looking towards Jungkook who merely sighs. He then holds onto Amara’s shoulder and forces her to face him, seriously peering into her eyes. 
“Amara, let her go.” Jungkook’s eyes beam a vibrant red as he authoritatively orders. “I will not ask you again.”  Amara immediately lets you go then with thinly-pursed lips, holding her head up high as she returns to her post. 
Jungkook wets his lips in frustration before he turns to you and gently gathers your hair in his hands, carefully peeking behind your neck. He lightly whispers in your ear, “did she hurt you?” 
Ignoring the goosebumps that arise across your skin, your fingertips canvas over your neck as you feel the slightest sting in a certain area, knowing it must be a scratch. “Not really.” 
Jungkook laughs then, and you furrow eyebrows. “Why’d you just laugh?” 
“Because the desire to sin really does kick in when you’re near me, huh?” Jungkook’s pointer finger then slides over the exact cut you had, and you instantly let out a hiss. Jungkook knowingly grins. “You just lied to me.” 
You roll your eyes, seconds from swatting his hand off you until the sudden scent of coffee on his breath stops your heart. Jungkook casts your hair aside as he gently leans over your shoulder, and invades all your personal space. You’re unsure of what he’s doing until you feel his breath fanning you—he’s blowing on your cut. Surprisingly enough, it’s almost as though Jungkook’s delicate blows cauterize your wound, feeling your pain melt away in an instant. 
Sweeping your hand over the nape of your neck, suddenly it’s as though there was never a wound at all. You look at Jungkook with pure wonderment as he simply flashes you that sexy quirk of his brow and an attractive grin. Adjusting his shirt on himself, he then fixes his jacket on you, pulling it tight around your body. He turns back to the demons after finishing his task and grasps your hand yet again “We need to see Azazel, open the doors.” 
The stoic man that’s merely stood there the entire time silently clasps onto the handle. He opens the door without a complaint, standing off to the side. Jungkook enthusiastically tugs you along with him as you pass Amara, who only flashes a half-hearted smile your way before you’re greeted by something you never expected. 
Rouge curtains, a plethora of intoxicating incense, bright, vivid colours of Moroccan splendour designs attacking your eyes. The entire place is littered with these vibrantly coloured fabrics and charms, gaudy pieces of diversified collectibles and an odd earthy though spicy scent that made you throw up in your mouth. Though what catches you next are the multitude of nearly naked women sensually dancing and sitting around a quite eclectically dressed man, your brain far from boggled. 
The man’s too busy making out with a certain woman until Jungkook loudly clears his throat. “Azazel,” 
Said man, well, demon suddenly rips his mouth away from the topless woman, wiping some lipstick that smeared onto his skin. His hooded, hazed-over eyes are far more entertained when he regards Jungkook, however, lips curving into a mirthy grin. 
“My, my, if it isn’t the king of hell himself.” 
Jungkook purses his lips in acknowledgement as Azazel leans over onto his knees, waving off his dancing women. “Nobody told me you’d be visiting little old me.” 
“Maybe if you weren’t sucking the life out of female humans, you would know.” 
Azazel’s eyes bounce as though he were dealt a hit he actually liked, snickering in his throat. “A little too haughty for someone in your position, don’t you think?” 
Jungkook furrows his brows in confusion, and Azazel merely scoffs. “Think the whole of hell doesn’t know what’s going on with you, boss?” He questions rhetorically. Azazel then gets up from his seat, the women around him not even minding as they seem in almost an unbreakable trance. 
‘They reel human women in with their charms, roofie their fucking drinks and get them alone.’
Fuck, Jungkook was really telling the truth. Better yet, was he genuinely trying to protect you?
He approaches Jungkook, almost too close for comfort. Jungkook squeezes your hand in response, and you stay right by his side. 
“We all know the big man upstairs kicked you out of hell and you’re about as powerless as a mouse in a glue trap, boss.” The demon, you now realize, is almost ironically nothing what you imagined the demon of lust to be like. He seems the epitome of gluttony with his larger belly and older-looking features, honestly disgusted by him. Jungkook almost reads your mind as he makes an expression of distaste too, turning his face away from Azazel’s to actually breathe. He faces him then, eyes powerful and self-assured.  
“I’m still the king, and I rank higher than you, Prince of hell.” Jungkook squashes Azazel’s ego. “I’d watch what comes out of your mouth.” 
“And I’d do the same if I were you, boss. Right now it’s looking right about rocky for you with your powers gone.” Azazel practically, or well, quite literally spits. “I’m thinking you should choose your words wisely, could probably squash you like a pesky ant on the side of a road, Your Highness.” Something about the superiority complex and condescension of Azazel ticks you off. You turn to Jungkook trying to believe what the demon said isn’t true, but Jungkook’s acquiescing expression clues you in to the fact that that’s not the case. 
Maybe he really does have to play nice right now, you didn’t know the breadth of Azazel’s powers compared to a human Lucifer, anyway. 
Jungkook sighs as he tongue his cheek. “I just need to ask a question, Azazel.” He then instinctively tugs you further behind his larger frame, but that only draws Azazel attention to you, and suddenly his once normal eyes beam with an intriguing, red hot flame. 
“And who might this be?” His creepy voice curls around your spine and makes you shiver, sending him a look of disapproval. His hand comes out to cup your cheek but you immediately smack his hand, leaning away from him. 
His eyes glow with anger as he almost lunges towards you, but is stopped by Jungkook’s arm blocking the way. “Behave, Azazel. She’s mine.”   
“Ohh,” Azazel calms down with a snarky tone, eyes still scavenging your figure as though you were a meal to consume. “The master’s keeping a toy, I see.” 
The context of that leaves a bad taste in your mouth, watching Jungkook’s expression stay predominantly blank. He squares his shoulders when he requests again. “Just answer my question, Azazel.” 
The demon hmph’s as he sends you and Jungkook a death glare, returning to his seat. “Sit down.” He practically growls. 
Jungkook leads you with him towards the vibrant indigo, velvet couch across from the weird demon. Jungkook plops down on the cushions, and just as you’re about to seat yourself next to him, he immediately tugs you forward with a force you couldn’t deny. You tumble into his lap and your ass settles over his strong, thick thighs. Your arms naturally fall around his neck as his hands delicately hold your waist, panic overflowing you once your core presses into his crotch. 
“J-Jungkook, what are you-” 
“Shh,” he grits quietly under his teeth. “Just play along.” 
You pull a confused face, watching as Azazel becomes busy speaking with one of his scarcely-dressed ladies. “What do you mean? Why do I-”
“Azazel has a thing for human girls,” Jungkook whispers closely in your ear, hands slowly soothing your side that leaves you squirmy. He suddenly dares to nibble on your lobe a little, the touch igniting a lusty flame inside you despite the initial surprise. “Especially girls like you.” 
“What-what are you doing?” 
“Acting,” he rasps in a whisper, tongue gently licking at your lobe. “Play along.” He repeats pressingly. 
“What do you mean…” You attempt to suppress a yelp when Jungkook unexpectedly bites your ear lobe, only fidgeting over him more. “Girls like me?” 
You feel Jungkook smirk as he presses a bold kiss behind your ear, a hand of his dropping to your bare thigh. He ever so slightly brushes the tips of his fingers up and down your skin, fuelling every nerve inside your sensitive body. 
“Sweet and innocent ones like you.” 
His tone is so dark, so deep and low you’re forgetting where you even are. Your grip on his shoulders tightens when Jungkook skims his nose up your pulse point, his heated breath and lips raising goosebumps all over you. You chew on your bottom lip to contain how horny you suddenly feel, as though every cell in your body wanted Jungkook kissing you, on you, inside you. The hunger was insatiable, your legs rubbing together once your panties felt too sticky. 
“Since-since when did you care? I thought you hated humans.” 
“I said I hated humans, not you.” 
“You..” You contain a moan when he grips your bare thigh. “You said you’d never be attracted to a human like me.”
A scoff escapes him as his lips graze your skin, scrunching his shirt in your fist for any semblance of control. It’s hilarious that Jungkook is so transparent about insisting you’re different, but never explains why you are in the first place. His silence now beckons you to question him again, though it comes out more akin to a moan.
Jungkook then finally latches his wet mouth onto your neck, feeling your core gush with an immediate waterfall. He begins ever so slightly mouthing at your skin, laying soft kisses that were almost feather-like, barely there, yet you felt as though you were on fire. You realized he didn’t answer, wanting to query him again but fuck, you’re too goddamn distracted by his plushy lips sinfully kissing your weak spot. 
Suppressing a moan, you manage, “why are you doing this.. Jungkook?” 
“I need to show him you’re mine..” Jungkook mumbles against your neck as he sucks a soft bruise . “So he won’t take you.” 
His words snap you out of your daze, reminded that you and Jungkook are here for a goddamn task. He wasn’t doing this because he actually wanted you, there was an underlying agenda here and you need to stop getting sucked into his tempting ocean. 
You gently push him off you and find Jungkook’s amused eyes peering at you, cracking his signature grin. You realize you must appear flushed, the heat of Jungkook’s Lucifer body too searing to handle. 
Eyes locked in an untelling gaze, this position with Jungkook feels too unreal. You’re currently perched in his lap as you hold his neck and he hugs your waist, face mere inches from each other, almost kissing but not. You hate how much you suddenly yearn to kiss his lips, wondering if that certain Lucifer attraction is the reason why, or maybe Jungkook’s lips are just so fucking kissable. 
Jungkook doesn’t break your eye contact as he juts out his tongue to swipe his bottom lip, flashing his vision down to your petals that hang slightly open. You breathe carefully attempting to not suffocate, Jungkook is seriously, and very undeniably hotter than hell. You can almost taste the coffee on his breath again as he nears you, vision flashing to his lips that suddenly seem so close…
“Cozy, now aren’t we?” 
You both snap towards Azazel in unison, clearing your throat as Jungkook plants his feet down and straightens himself. 
“What’d you wanna ask, boss? Make it quick.” Azazal tends to one of his topless girls feeling him up, practically cooing at her as he speaks annoyingly. “I’ve got better things to do.” 
Jungkook rolls his eyes, his hand on your tummy drawing soft circles. You try not to melt. 
“I need the location of a club, Azazel.” 
The demon laughs across from you both, caressing one of his dancers that flank his left side. “There are many clubs, boss. You gotta be specific.” 
“You know which one I’m talking about,” Jungkook scowls, his palm firmly clutching your bare thigh, and you try not to imagine what he’d feel like touching you elsewhere. 
What if he touched me down there?
Jungkook suddenly squeezes your thigh and you practically jump, trying to refocus on the conversation. You attempt to not pay attention to the way Jungkook’s practically eye-level with your cleavage. The mere prospect of his sexy face in your boobs leaves your legs rubbing together, nipples shamelessly hardening. 
God, why are you so horny?
“Angels Give You Wings, you know the one.” Jungkook affirms, seriously trying to work with the rather disinterested demon. 
But once the name’s up in the air, Azazel’s eyes shimmer with mirth as his attention shifts to Jungkook. “The infamous club, you say?” he asks rhetorically. “You should know it’s in Chicago.” 
Jungkook sighs. “I know it’s in Chicago, but I need the real address.” 
Azazel raises his brows. “And why would you need the real address?” 
“It’s not exactly your concern.” Jungkook cuts in all too arrogantly, Azazel narrowing his eyes. He now examines you both, almost scrutinizing the pair of you as he touches one of his strippers. 
“You two don’t look very close for a couple.” Azazel observes, flitting over your entangled bodies. You become displaced, looking towards Jungkook for an answer. But you only find him glaring back at Azazel as he cradles you in his arms, practically demon-growling at him.
Azazel hoots as he watches Jungkook’s anger grow. “Wow, would you look at the master being possessive of his toys for once.” He smiles evilly, laying both his arms over the back of the couch with a repulsive look. “If you’re being possessive of her, then you ain’t getting jack shit tonight, boss.” 
“And what the fuck is that supposed to mean?” Jungkok practically spits.
“It means,” Azazel mimics Jungkook’s harsh tone. “If you wanna know the address, you need to let me read her.” 
You furrow your brows as Jungkook heavily sighs, bringing a hand to his forehead with distress. Your fingers ask for his attention through rubbing at the nape of his neck, voice quiet.
“Jungkook, what does he mean?” 
“Oh!” Azazel cheers all of a sudden. “She calls you by your real name, master? That’s wonderful!” He claps like a happy seal, now understanding what Jungkook meant by Azazel being quite the... odd type.  
Jungkook lifts his head to look at you then, eyes revealing something akin to.. Fear? Stress? You couldn’t place it accurately. “I won’t let him have you, angel.” 
You’re sure Jungkook is probably only saying this to act like you’re together, hell, even his hands slowly but soothingly caressing your waist and thigh have all probably got to do with this ruse. But something about the reveal of emotion in his eyes maybe indicated he could be speaking the truth. 
Or at least, you’d like to believe so. 
“Hand the girl over, boss.” 
Something ticks inside Jungkook as he flashes his eyes a searing red, and practically sneers at Azazel. “You’re not touching her.” 
Azazel’s amused expression only thrives off Jungkook's anger. “Well then, you won’t be getting your address, then.” 
Jungkook huffs with a dry scoff. “I’m not offering her to you anyway.” He then pats your thigh to move off him. You climb off Jungkook’s lap as he stands on his feet with you, avoiding your eyes as you wonder why he won’t just give you up. He intertwined his hand with yours in mere milliseconds as he sends Azazel a death glare. “We’re leaving, angel.” 
“You’re funny, boss. How do you expect to get your address?” 
Azazel’s condescending tone stops Jungkook, and you need to seriously squeeze Jungkook’s hand tightly in order to prevent him from charging forward. You should’ve known, Lucifer would obviously be irrationally hot-heated. But, also being the representation of Pride among the so-called seven princes of hell, he absolutely hated it when someone knocked him off his high horse. 
And that’s all Azazel has been doing. 
“I can ask any other demon.” Jungkook grits through his teeth. 
Azazel clicks his tongue, shaking his head. “Nuh uh. That’s an Angel-dominant club, do you really think some second-rate lackey could get in? It takes someone of my power-ranking or higher to even withstand those damn halo-wearing pricks.” 
Jungkook scoffs. “I’m Lucifer, Azazel. I can ask an angel.” 
Azazel snickers as though he were told an immature joke. “You really think an angel won't go straight to The Council and rat you out? Don’t think you’d appreciate seeing your estranged brothers in this circumstance, boss.” 
You hear a crack in Jungkook’s neck as you watch his jaw flex firmly again, except now, it seems like Jungkook could be breaking his teeth as he bites down hard. His eyes are a seething ruby, wondering what could be causing Jungkook so much heated distress. 
Brothers? Did brothers mean.. the rest of the Archangels? 
Your hand suddenly feels too hot as Jungkook practically crushes the life out of you. You exclaim in pain, realizing that Jungkook’s utterly losing his cool. You panic, knowing Jungkook is still quite powerful and you did not want to see him angry. He needs to simmer down before all hell actually breaks loose, worriedly approaching him. 
You rapidly step in front of him and grips his biceps, attempting to gain his attention. 
“Jungkook, hey, Jungkook.” You call him with light shakes, but his breaths only increase in speed. His vision is glowing a vibrant red and you can feel him entering attack mode. You protest for him yet again, to look at you, to calm down, hoping your voice can pull him out but gain no response. 
Jungkook is seconds from unleashing his flames, already raising his palm for a ferocious blast until your small hands suddenly engulf his cheeks, forcing him to look at you. 
“Jungkook!” You say it so worriedly, so sweetly that something almost automatically switches off inside Jungkook. It’s as though the figurative flames bursting out of him are extinguished, his breath stabilizing as you find his doe eyes staring back at you. 
You crack a smile as you watch his features change, becoming the exact Jungkook you met back in your apartment. 
“Human..” You’re unsure of why Jungkook’s stuck with the name, but funny enough, it made you laugh a little
“Demon..” You chide him, and he actually cracks a grin too. You wet your lips as you seriously peer into his eyes, speaking kindly. “Jungkook, you should let Azazel read me.” 
His eyes flood with something akin to anxiety and he grips your hand against his cheek, shaking his head. “No, it’s not a good idea, angel. He’ll hurt you.” 
Your lips pout slightly hearing his concern, again, unsure of whether or not this was all a ruse. You wouldn’t know. 
“What will he do?” 
“He can read minds when he touches people. Angel, demon, human, it doesn’t matter. But it hurts, especially for humans.” Jungkook warns, eyes communicating the urgency he desires to reach you. 
You can see where Jungkook’s coming from, whether it was for the ploy or his own genuine compassion, you wouldn’t want Jungkook to hurt himself just for you, either. But you knew this was important to him, he really needed to unearth that club and figure out his way back to hell. 
He needed to go back home.
You’ve already tagged along and come this far, not to mention how many times Jungkook really did show concern for you and helped you out. You should repay that kindness and help him too. 
“Jungkook, you really need that location.” You explain softly. “It’s okay, it won’t be for long, right? I can endure it.” 
“Human..” You can see the worry in his eyes, feeling your heart melt. He squeezes your hand harder and you try to ignore the fact that he doesn’t even mean any of it, only an act meant for the demon you can tell is staring you both down. 
But you’d oddly like to believe it was real.
“He’s going to infiltrate your mind, read your deepest, darkest thoughts, invade your privacy...” He urges you, emphasizing gravely that this is not something to be taken lightly. 
“I’ll be okay, demon.” 
Jungkook sighs with evident worry. “If you feel uncomfortable for even a second, I’ll kill him.” He proclaims. “You don’t have to go through with this.” 
“I’ll be fine, Jungkook. We’re a team now, alright? I got you.” 
You’re unsure of what emotion flashes through Jungkook, but you can clearly see his expression soften. He purses his lip, and simply nods as he slowly lets your hand go, but not without leaning in close to your ear. “You need to convince him..” Jungkook advises quietly. “Convince him about us to get the address.” 
You nod back in affirmation, detangling your fingers and stepping towards the sleazy demon. 
Azazel flashes you a toothy smile you wish you couldn’t see, repulsed as you stand before him. You notice the women flanking him don’t necessarily pay attention to you, and have only been touching and dancing around Azazel the majority of the time. You wonder if they’re under some sort of trance, attributing their behaviour to the drugging methods Jungkook informed you of earlier. 
Though you also wouldn’t rule out the doings of Azazel knowing he’s the sin of Lust. 
“What do you want?” You question bleakly. 
“Your hand, darling.” He slides his tongue over his teeth. 
“Do more than just read her, and I’ll torture you in hell for eternity.” Jungkook scolds threateningly, jaw clenched and eyes smoldering. 
Azazel merely acknowledges Jungkook as you reach the eclectic demon. With a weirded out expression, you hesitantly present your hand to Azazel, who snatches you up as though he were a starving dog seeing meat for the first time. He immediately shoves the back of your hand against his nostrils, gaining a good, heady whiff of you. You try not to feel a sense of ickiness all over your body, suddenly feeling this certain shock that runs throughout all your veins. 
It feels uncomfortable at first, but suddenly transforms into this sharp pain flooding your bloodstream. You exclaim immediately, feeling as though knives were suddenly coursing through your arteries. You falter as the feeling crawls all over your skin, clutching your hand to your chest in a panic. 
“Human!” Jungkook worriedly approaches you, but stops once Azazel’s ominous red eyes warn him. 
You calm down for Jungkook’s sake, breathing through the aching intrusion. “I’m fine.. I’m fine, Jungkook.” 
You remember his words in an instant, enduring the pain as you focus on thinking about Jungkook. He needs to think you’re both together, right? What better way than to conjure up every appealing thought you’ve had of Jungkook? 
His lips, his body, his eyes, his rockstar hair, his sexy leather outfit that hugs him just right. His Adam's apple, his thick neck, his alluring voice, the attractive way he tongues his cheek. Not to mention the adorable way his eyes go round or his small, cute lips pucker into a pout. 
Your mind naturally drifts towards the thought of all those features, and how they ignite your core anytime you ponder them. His fingers? His tongue? His lips? What could they do in other places? Would he be fast or slow? Would he touch you right? Would he be rough or soft? 
You try to imagine how it would feel if he were to touch your pulsing clit, shuddering once you register that masculine roughness he has to them. You bite on your lip, center lighting up with wanton desire once you consider how his tongue would feel, and most of all, you wonder exactly what beast Jungkook hides in his pants. You practically scream all these things at yourself, prominently contemplating your attraction to Jungkook for Azazel. 
Though funny enough, you know deep down they were real thoughts you merely suppressed. 
Azazel continues to read your mind, your shut eyes too focused on honing in on your likeness for Jungkook until all the pain in your body suddenly stops. You exhale harshly, as though air was sucked out of your lungs once you return to Earth. You recall your place in reality and face Azazel, swallowing. 
“Hmm,” Azazel contemplates, suggestive, mirthy eyes gazing up at you. “She really does belong to you, boss.” 
You hear Jungkook let out a triumphant scoff, hands on his hips as he quirks a brow. 
“You’re all she seems to think about.” Azazel then eyes your figure up and down. “And they mainly seem to be very dirty.” 
That fact makes you physically choke, coughing out the spit that caught in your throat. You rip your hand out of Azazel’s hold, recovering from the hiccup. 
“T-the address, Azazel.” 
Azazel’s annoyed vision flits to the side as he leans back. He rolls his eyes, holding out his pointer and middle finger in the air. He suddenly flicks them to conjure up a piece of paper with a bright spark of flames. Its edges are burnt, though the integrity of the piece still holds up. 
You smile victoriously as you reach out for the paper, only for Azazel to suddenly retract it. 
“You owe me for this, boss.” 
Jungkook laughs dryly, suddenly feeling his presence beside you as he flattens his warm palm against the small of your back. “We’ll see about that in hell—what did you say? Second-rate lackey.” 
The term makes Azazel growl as a counter, finally nabbing the paper from him and nuzzling into Jungkook, proudly presenting it before him. 
“For you, my liege.” You bow as part of your skit, Jungkook clasping the paper. 
“Why thank you, my angel.” Jungkook responds in the same playful tone, bowing as well. 
He graciously snatches the paper from you and tucks it inside the pocket of his leather jacket you wear. He pats the pocket condescendingly before entangling his fingers with yours and tugging you flush against his side, saluting Azazel. 
“So long, Azazel. Hope you grow the balls one day to fight me in hell.” Jungkook snarks, cocking a proud brow. “We’ll see then who's more powerful. If you’re not too busy getting your balls taken care of here, that is.” 
Azazel literally spits at the ground you both walk on, Jungkook immediately clutching you close to him as he merrily laughs at his own remark. 
And honestly speaking, as obnoxious as Jungkook can be, you laugh, too. 
Hugging the paper with the address to your chest, Jungkook side-hugs you to him as the pair of you walk out together into the main area of the strip club. There’s a new stripper on stage now, and Nelly Furtado’s ‘Maneater’ fills the hooting club as you both make your triumphant exit. 
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The soft thrum of rock beats keep your eyes open, shifting in and out of sleep as you slump into your passenger seat. Jungkook sits at the wheel now, and despite only claiming he could drive, you admit he’s a pretty decent driver for someone who’s only learned through observation. 
You’re yet again falling asleep after the day’s tedious activities, cheek resting in your palm while you huddle into Jungkook’s warm leather jacket. It was oddly very comforting. 
“Hey, sleeping beauty.” Jungkook lightly hits your arm and you shoot up, grumbling with sleep-laden eyes. 
“What the fuck, Jungkook?” 
“Feel lucky I even called you beauty, you don’t look so hot right now.” 
You roll your eyes, not caring of your appearance after driving for God knows how long. You still run your fingers through your hair, however. “Fuck you.” 
You see in your peripheral Jungkook silently scoffing, chiding you with an expression of mimicry. You narrow your eyes into slits at him, huffing at how easily you both return to normal. You should’ve known whatever concern and care Jungkook was showing you was only for Azazel, there’s no way the daft idiot could even muster a single cell of decency. 
Jungkook suddenly toes at your shin, nearly kicking you awake once again. You turn around and face him with sheer annoyance. “Jungkook, what the fuck! Can’t you just fucking drive?!” 
“So you have dirty thoughts about me, huh?” Your throat cinches, your brain shuts down and you transform into the epitome of an error 404 not found code. You hold up a finger in protest as you buffer, lips struggling for a sentence. 
“I didn’t know I was always on your mind, angel.” Jungkook bounces his brows as he peers at you, but it seems like his expression completely depicts the opposite of what he says. He eyes as if he knows the inner workings of your brain, knows exactly what you think, what’s on your mind, and knows they’re not innocent like an angel. 
God, he’s so annoying. 
“Would you shut up? That was for Azazel. You wouldn’t have your precious address without me anyway, demon.” 
Jungkook scoffs, laughing at your rather cute act of denial. “Whatever helps you sleep at night, human.” Jungkook's hand once gripping the steering wheel then suddenly settles over your thigh, not squeezing or touching, but merely resting there as he refrains from doing anything compromising. 
His eyes then suddenly flit towards you.
“You seem to be quite the dirty little angel.” 
Your cheeks heat up, growing angry because.. fuck, did he actually have to be right? Why did it feel like he could see right through you? Like he could read you as though you were bearing all the pages of your book? You scrutinize him repulsively as you shove his hand off you, shuffling away from him further. 
“Whatever. You should be letting me sleep, asshole.” You counter in response. “And watch the fucking road.” 
Jungkook stifles a laugh in his throat as he returns his eyes to the road, his hand now resting over the console as he drives with one hand freely. You try not to flit down to his legs manspreading deliciously, or gaze at the veins that sprawl up his arm and his rough hand on the steering wheel. You even ignore the way he tongues his cheek as though he’s too amused. 
“Why did you keep calling me that?” 
Jungkook flickers towards you. “Huh?” 
“With Azazel, you kept calling me angel.” You grumble. “You only use that when you’re being an asshole.” 
Jungkook breathes a laugh through his nose, his vision focusing on the road as he handles the steering wheel. He swipes his lips with his tongue as he looks ahead, flexing his jaw. 
“I didn’t want him knowing your real name.” 
Your brows raise in light surprise, not expecting that concern to come from him even without putting on a show. 
“That’s rich coming from you.” You scoff. 
Jungkook cracks a smoldering smirk, hating that he was so obnoxiously attractive. “It’s rich that for an angel you have a lot of dirty thoughts.” 
You roll your eyes, shutting down the arousal that floods your core as you smack his bicep. Fuck Azazel for saying that aloud, and now fuck Jungkook for snickering about it to himself. You exhale tiredly as you tuck your hand underneath your cheek and force yourself to sleep, completely avoiding him. 
So what if you wanted to fucking jump his bones? It’s his fault for being so sexy. 
With a knowing smile and quirk of his brow, Jungkook leans over and turns the volume of the music down, continuing your journey under the dark sky with spangled stars. 
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Jungkook brings in the last of your luggage from the car into your motel room, setting down the heavy bags and suitcases in one-go. He appeared seriously fucking strong doing so, and suddenly the image of him hauling stuff like that was simply too hot to not watch. 
His shirt clings to his muscular body as he maneuvers your things around the room, filling up space the way it should. You laid on your tummy simply scrolling through your laptop, meant to be looking up the address of the club you’d received from Azazel. 
Instead, you watch Jungkook’s back muscles flex as he zips open his duffle bag, shuffling through his belongings. You genuinely wonder if it’s possible to be attracted to someone’s back. He’s just so incredibly broad and wide, his traps and shoulder blades adding to the breadth of his posterior. He seems strong enough to be able to manhandle you, but kind enough to be gentle about it. 
Suddenly you remember what your friends were all whispering about regarding Jungkook; the type of man that would let you do anything to him to gain your own pleasure. 
Fuck, would he ever let you ride his back? 
Jungkook stifles a laugh in his throat as his eyes shift to you, sexy smile on display with amused eyes. You become aware of your blatant ogling and hide behind the screen of your laptop, clearing your throat. 
“What’re you doing over there, angel?” 
You heat up once you realize he clearly saw you, though act as though absolutely nothing happened. “Nothing, I’m just researching the address we got.” 
You continue clicking through much of Google maps, only to find yourself coming up empty. That was the issue with the address you’d both earned from Azazel, it appeared like a normal address, though it didn’t show up on any maps or across the grand internet. 
“Have you found the exact address?” 
“Honestly, I’m having some trouble with it.” 
Jungkook furrows his eyebrows with a little confused noise, abandoning his things and joining you on the motel bed. He seats himself right next to you, and just as you begin explaining the conundrum, Jungkook leans in close and places a hand over your body. His fingers squish into the sheets next to you as he practically cages you on the bed, feeling a fluttering in your chest at his unusual proximity. The scent of his cologne mixed with the fabric softener he started to like set your nerves ablaze, never having expected Lucifer himself to smell so nice, be so suffocating. 
It was intoxicating, he was intoxicating. He’s simply leaning over you to closely peer at the screen, but you couldn’t help but feel your heart race in your chest, feel his presence permeate your back. 
“What’s troubling you?” 
You struggle with your sentences before you can find feasible words, attempting to not stare at his thick thigh through his ripped jeans right in your face. “I-yeah. Um, did Azazel give us the right address? I can’t seem to find the club.” 
Jungkook hums in understanding, cutely pursing his lips. “I see. Let me take a look.” 
To your surprise, Jungkook leans down directly over your head to type on your laptop, and you attempt to not squeal at how incredibly proximal he is now. He covers all of your upper body so easily, and you suddenly wonder what it would be like if he were on top of you. 
He’d probably completely dominate me. 
You hear Jungkook breathe a scoff above you, tentatively peering up to find that in fact, his chin could’ve been resting atop your head. You watch his gorgeous, thick fingers type over your laptop then, searching diligently as you silently grow warmer underneath him. 
“Hmm, I see what you mean.” Jungkook chimes as he drifts into thought, also coming up dry. “Azazel shouldn’t have lied to me, the princes of hell are incapable of doing so.” 
You tilt your head and peer up at him, chin resting in your hands as you swing your legs back and forth over the mattress. “Why so?” 
Jungkook smirks devilishly, eyes flitting down to you. “They know the hell they’re in for if they do.” 
You roll your eyes, how typical of Lucifer. Jungkook ticks his head, however, as he thinks, trying to piece together what to do now. He brings his pointer finger and thumb to his chin, contemplating. 
“Can I see the paper Azazel gave us?” 
You fish it out of Jungkook’s leather jacket that you were in fact still wearing, presenting it to him. You watch Jungkook stare at the paper in his hand, scrutinizing the living hell out of it. You watch the gears in his head shift until finally, Jungkook has an ah-hah moment. 
He brings the piece close to his pink lips and gently blows over the paper. You watch in surprise as it smolders in accordance with Jungkook’s breath, suddenly small text emerging in a searing heat underneath the original address. 
‘Only those with wings can truly see.’
Jungkook cracks a scoff as he finally understands, laughing to himself. “Azazel, you damn bastard.” 
“What does it mean?” You query curiously. 
“You can’t see it, but I can.” Jungkook explains. He shows you the paper and runs underneath the first part of the text, indicating it to you. “‘Only those with wings’ means celestial beings like angels and demons, they both have wings. Humans can’t see the address or location unless they’re with a celestial being.” 
“Ohh,” you nod your head in acknowledgement. “That makes so much more sense. Google maps just kept showing me this dead-end alleyway.” 
Jungkook clicks his tongue as he ruffles your hair. “Should’ve been using that big brain of yours instead of staring at me, angel.” 
You scoff underneath him, peering up through narrowed slits. “Shut up, I wasn’t staring at you.” 
“You were pretty clearly staring at me, sweetheart. Next time you want a piece of this,” he gestures towards his brawny body. “You can let me know.” 
You pretend-vomit as you shove him away from you, Jungkook chuckling as you prop yourself back up. “Get away from me, your egotistical head is too big.” 
“Nuh-uh” Jungkook tuts with a finger. “I may be egotistical, but I know what I saw. Just tell me you want me and it’ll solve all your problems, angel.” 
“And who said I want you? It’s not like you want me.” 
“Did I ever say I didn’t want you?” 
Your eyes fall open in surprise, Jungkook merely staring at you with his mirthy eyes. He even dares tilt his head as he intensifies his gaze, growing too flustered to consider what he just said. He’s clearly only playing with you. 
“Whatever,” you wave him off. You grab the physical map you’d purchased at a convenience store. “Just fucking circle where we need to go on this.” 
You’re presenting a map to Jungkook for actual work, but he then cunningly swipes it from your grasp. “Wait a minute, what map exactly?” 
You grievously complain as Jungkook holds the map too high for your height, cursing his long arms and how much larger he is in comparison to you. You practically climb his strong body and lap to retrieve the flimsy thing, only for Jungkook to retract it every time you think you’re close. 
“You have to try harder than that, angel.” You breathe out a fed-up chuckle as you reach with all your might, wildly struggling as he simply giggles at your attempts. You finally snatch the map out of his hand and let out a triumphant ‘ah-hah!’
But just as you celebrate, Jungkook unbalances you with his grasp and the weight of his body sends you toppling over, falling back against the bed. Jungkook falters directly over you, his hands either side of your head as you stare up at him in shock. 
Your hands are sprawled either side of your head, round eyes regarding him with sheer surprise. You notice the way Jungkook’s knee has settled right between your legs, causing you to fidget. You swallow watching the smirk on his face grow, all too amused by the compromising position. 
“Mmm,” Jungkook suddenly hums. “For an ‘innocent’ angel you seem very comfortable as a bottom, huh?” 
You suck in an immediate breath, hating how much this position lights your nerves on fire. An arousal shoots through your core as you attempt to appear normal, countering his comment with your own. 
“Funny, you don’t seem much like a top.” You were lying straight through your teeth, and you goddamn knew it. But nothing else really mattered as you flit between Jungkook’s lips and his eyes that gleam with mischief, another typical characteristic of Lucifer, you thought. 
“Ouu,” Jungkook hisses. “You really are a liar, aren’t you?” 
You stare him down in challenge as he slowly leans down towards you, examining your every feature. “Wonder who taught such a pure angel like you to sin so much.” His voice is so condescendingly low, you couldn’t help but squish your thighs together. 
“And I wonder who taught such an arrogant asshole like you manners. They seemed to have left out personal space.” 
Jungkook hisses yet again, head dipping for a dry laugh before refocusing his almost lust-ridden, fiery eyes back on you. “We need to do something about that attitude. Angels don't talk back.” 
“One, I’m a human, not an angel.” You snark wittily. “And two, what exactly will you do about my attitude, King of hell?” 
Jungkook wets his lip slowly, taking his time with it. He very obviously flits down over your body before he arrives at your face, lowering himself even more as his fingers slide into yours against the mattress. His proximity shoots waves of arousal through you, your once dry core now fluttering with anticipation. 
Goosebumps blossom over your skin as Jungkook comes exactly face to face with you, lips mere inches from yours as your body loses control. 
“You have no clue what I’ve got in mind,” he whispers, his deep voice travelling through you and right to your dampening pussy. “But once I’m done with you, you won’t be so pure anymore, angel.” 
Your breath hitches as Jungkook maintains his heated closeness, eyes flickering down to your lips as he seems seconds from connecting them, petals brushing yours as you taste his breath… only to finally collect yourself. Registering this as Jungkook’s crazy Lucifer attraction, you quickly shove him off you with a loud huff as you sit up on the sheets, muttering almost incoherently. 
“I’m going to take a shower.” You attempt to shake all the dirty thoughts about him out of your system, slipping into your slippers and making towards your luggage. 
Jungkook chuckles before tonguing his cheek while you search through your things, his thumb swiping across his bottom lip. He props a leg up on the bed, leaning his elbow over his knee as he regards you. 
“We should eat dinner after your shower, human.” He nonchalantly says, as though absolutely nothing happened between you just now. Funny, you should’ve known Jungkook was playing, it’s practically the only trait Lucifer has. “You get to choose, remember.” 
“I do. You’ll have to eat whatever I want, though. No complaints.” You gain the courage to look him in the eye, and honestly laugh shyly when you find him very obviously checking you out. Or just looking? You didn’t know, but sitting like that while purposefully peering at you seemed evident enough. 
“No complaints here.” He held up his hands in mock surrender, ticking his head towards the shower. “Go, I’ll be here if you need anything.” 
You nod in response, and try to divert yourself from considering the fact that you’ll be in a room over from Jungkook, showering and naked. 
You wonder what he looks like naked. 
Jitters crawl all over your body and you snap yourself out of it, rapidly nabbing your clothes and rushing towards the bathroom without a single thought. You stand in the doorframe and peek back into the room, only to see Jungkook bouncing his brows just to tease you with a little wave, and you roll your eyes as you slam the door shut. 
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Shutting the shower nozzle close, you let out a sigh as you finish. You wanted to smack your head against the shower wall repeatedly, horrendously until it produced an answer for why in God’s name Jungkook made you feel like this. 
Why did you like him on top of you like that? Why were his lips so goddamn tempting? Maybe it really was the Lucifer effect he has on you and practically anyone he comes into contact with, but you groan once you realize this feels stronger. 
If it were merely the effect of Jungkook, then you shouldn’t like it so much, should you? It feels as though it isn’t an arbitrary attraction anymore, but rather a voluntary desire that keeps manifesting itself everytime you’re near him. Maybe the effect is just stronger on humans, you didn’t know. But what you did know is that you wanted him, and it did not originate from whatever spell Jungkook always manages to cast upon you. 
You smack your forehead as you emerge from the shower, spotting your clothes for tonight’s outing and drying yourself with a towel nearby. You wrap it around your chest as you proceed to apply moisturiser and your usual skin care routine, plugging in a blow dryer for your hair before sorting through your clothes for your undergarments. 
Only to realize, they weren’t here. 
You immediately gasp as a hand covers your agape mouth. Your dumbass really didn’t think to bring your bra and panties when you were angrily snatching your clothes in front of Jungkook. You feel dread overcome you as you contemplate needing to venture out into the motel room for your clothes, stepping anxiously in your spot as nerves flood your system. 
You take a deep breath once you realize that they’re merely your clothes, and whether or not Jungkook lets you live this down, at least you didn’t go completely commando out to dinner with him. 
Mustering every speck of courage in the world, you crack the bathroom door open to take a small glimpse, expecting to see Jungkook maybe sprawled on his bed and watching TV, but only finding an empty mattress. 
“Jungkook?” You call quietly, hoping for a response. You don’t hear anything though, sparking your light concern. You meander out a little further and call his name again, but gain no answer. You presume he could be out of your room right now, using this as your golden opportunity. You scamper towards your bag with all your delicates in only a measly towel, clutching it loosely from falling out of place as you scrounge through your bag. 
You rapidly put together a matching set and instantly zip your bag shut, barging it back into your suitcase. You swivel around to make a risky break for it, only to run smack dab into someone’s rock hard chest. Suppressing the desire to cry, you recognize it anywhere, complaining as you rub your forehead from the contact. 
“What are you doing?” 
Your face heats up, carefully meeting Jungkook’s gaze as you see him fully clothed, while you’re naked and wet underneath a towel. The thought pries your embarrassed eyes away from him, clutching your garments to your chest in order to conceal them, but his sharp eyes can clearly discern what they are.
Damn his Lucifer abilities.
“I-I’m sorry. I just forgot something..” Your eyes flit everywhere but at Jungkook, who stands firmly in place without even the slightest bit of shame, towering over you. 
“You could’ve asked me to grab them for you.” Jungkook proclaims, his voice velvet-like and practically serenading you. 
“This isn’t something you can exactly grab.” You state. “It’s embarrassing.” 
“What’s so embarrassing about you being a woman?” Jungkook suddenly asks, still unable to meet his gaze, and you’re honestly glad Jungkook doesn’t demand it out of you either. His voice seems softer now however, almost understanding you. 
“Nothing, but it’s just…” You trail, not feeling exactly uncomfortable about him here, but feeling quite bare and open. All your intimate parts are covered, yes, but the mere idea that only a layer separating him from witnessing what lies underneath leaves you almost mortified. What if you’re not desirable at all to him? What would he think about your stretch marks? Your scars? All the flaws that you adorn? 
It leaves you clutching the towel even tighter, the very thought making you swallow a wad down your throat. Jungkook seems to notice your unease, and his expression falls from one of his usual amusement to seriousness. 
He very carefully, and hesitantly juts out his hand towards your hair. He considerately watches your reaction as his fingers meet a certain strand dangling in your eyesight, and he gently casts it behind your ear. His fingertips naturally fall to your chin, and you instinctively peer at him as he holds you ever so delicately. 
“You don’t have to be embarrassed with me, Y/N. I’m not expecting anything from you.” Jungkook clarifies, his tone uber soft. “Is that what you think of me?” 
“No.. I just,” you pause, searching for better wording. “Don’t know what you’ll think of me.” 
Jungkook furrows his brows, as though contemplating how that’s even something you could say.  He light-heartedly laughs as he looks to the ground, then peers back up at you. His eyes have softened into those round orbs of coffee, noticing that his eyes actually had a tendency to emit this natural glow, almost like a shimmer of stars. 
“You really think I’d be the type of guy that judges a woman’s body? Or her bra and panties?” 
You suck in a breath listening to his pretty lips say those words, gently nibbling on your lip as your tentative sight meets his. 
“If there’s one thing you should know about me, angel.” Jungkook begins, still cradling your chin. “You never have to be ashamed of yourself around me. I’m Lucifer, baby. All your sins, your secrets, your darkest thoughts.. I got you.” 
Jungkook steps closer to you, closing the space between your bodies as he releases heat that only warms you up, both inside and on the outside. He then closes the space between you two ever so slowly, lip brushing your ear as he whispers. 
“Even the dirty ones.” 
 His words ignite a lustful fire inside you, wondering a million heart-pumping possibilities with him so close to you, but choosing your gratitude over your horniness. You and Jungkook are merely a team, not a relationship waiting to happen. And so you crack a smile as you find yourself gazing into his eyes, wondering where this was coming from, and contemplating that maybe Jungkook... really isn’t half bad. 
That was, until he opened his mouth. 
“But if you’re like a furry or something, I’m gonna have to pass.” 
You scoff as you propel his chest away from you, shooting a repulsed expression his way. “Let’s just go to dinner, jackass.” 
Jungkook laughs as he watches you march away, flickering back to scold him, but only seeing his lips curving into this rather attractive bunny-like smile, wondering why the fuck Lucifer had to be blessed with such cute lips. 
And also wondering what it would feel like to kiss them. You didn’t know you’d find out later that night, or that Jungkook is in fact hotter than hell. 
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untaemedqueen · 3 months ago
Husband!Jeongguk x Pregnant Wife!Reader
WordCount: 19.8k
Genre: Angst, Healing, Smut, Marriage!AU
Trigger Warnings: Mentions of Kidnapping, Mentions of Small Amounts of Food
Warnings: Heart Breaking Thoughts, Angst, Healing, Emotional, Praise, Fingering, Begging, Daddy Kink, Thigh Riding, Fellatio, Lactation Kink, Milk Drinking, Throat Fucking, Glazed Donut!OC, Cunnilingus, Degradation, Somewhat Dom!Guk, Sub!OC, Squirting, Rough Pregnant Sex, Finger Sucking, Multiple Orgasms, Creampie
A/N: Soooooo this is a fic I've been working on since February, FEBRUARY! And it's finally done. I'm really so so so proud of this fic. I worked super hard on it. It's a fic about love and healing, coming back to a loved one after something shakes their relationship to the core. It's uplifting and comforting and it makes my heart warm. I hope you guys enjoy it! Really huge thank you to @xjoonchildx​, @ladyartemesia​, @ppersonna​ for sticking with me and reading every little change I’ve made to it!
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Silence -- the absence of sound is sometimes deafening.
In silence, true silence, other sounds tend to bleed in like a gentle hum.
In Jeon Jeongguk's silence everything is always louder -- the clock ticking away seconds, the sound of his own heart beating catastrophically slow, the sound of gentle breathing across the room.
It drives him insane.
It drives him up the wall.
He's been so used to sitting in silence that everything just sounds so fucking loud.
The way nails are currently scratching against the rich fabric of the arm chair across from him.
The sound of a bus honking in the distance.
It all resounds through his skull.
"-Guk. Jeongguk?"
Taking a sharp breath, he looks up at the nail scratching culprit.
"Yes, Dr. Kim," he breathes, loosening his tie.
"Namjoon, please. Do you-Do you want to talk about your progress this week?" Kim Namjoon inquires, looking down at his clipboard.
Guk tilts his head, watching Namjoon's fingers card through the multitude of sheets.
What has he written down?
"There's been no progress this week." he replies, looking down at his lap.
Dr. Kim nods astutely. "Well it takes time for people to come back to themselves… as well as others after what your wife went through. It's only natural."
The only thing that Jeongguk thinks is how unnatural life is at the moment.
"Are you experiencing anger?"
"Experiencing grief or loss for what your life used to be?"
Oh, yes.
"Are you trying to be strong for her when you can barely stand on your own?"
Fuck, yes.
"No." Jeongguk states, looking up at the therapist.
Namjoon seems to take a pause to scribble something down and the younger man can't help how he sits up straighter to maybe get a peek at the writing.
"Well, if that's all you feel the need to say, hopefully next week will be more insightful for you. It takes time for someone to get over trauma, this has also been traumatic for you." Dr. Kim announces, intertwining his hands and placing them softly down on the clipboard.
Jeongguk looks at the clock, hearing the telltale ticking that seconds are passing. "Sure. Yeah."
"Next week then, Jeongguk." Namjoon says, giving him a small smile that dimples his chin.
Jeongguk is slow to get up and walk out of the room. Everything feels heavy around him, his own heart has felt like one hundred pounds since you finally came back to him.
But once he's out of the therapy building and in his own car. He can't seem to stop the gut wrenching sob that flies free from his chest.
His eyes screw shut and his forehead slams into the steering wheel.
"Oh, God!" he gasps, tugging and pulling at his tie that feels like a noose around his neck. He fumbles with the fabric before chucking it onto the dashboard with a wail.
"God! Fuck! Dammit! Goddammit!" he screams, slamming his hands against the steering wheel. His hand slips a few times, pressing up against the horn and the sound resounds throughout the almost empty parking lot.
In his swimming misery, all the months without you seem to bleed through his memory.
"Y/N," he gasps, pressing his bruised fist to his forehead and squeezing his bloodshot eyes closed.
One memory always gnaws at him in the silence. It stains his soul like coffee on white fabric.
He's gotten so used to seeing the cream colored walls of the police station that in some sickening way it feels like home.
"Can we go over it again, Mr. Jeon?" Detective Kim inquires, stirring his coffee slowly.
Jeongguk swallows thickly, looking over the man's cluttered desk. His hands shake nervously and his fingers clench and squeeze at the still air.
How many times does he have to repeat himself?
But he's so broken and desperate that he complies.
"My wife went to the supermarket to get groceries to celebrate that she was pregnant with our first baby." he whispers.
Just even stating the words sends his heart bleeding.
How many times does he have to repeat the worst day of his fucking life?
"The Atlantis Market?" Detective Kim inquires, narrowing his eyes at the case file.
He knows this already. Why is he asking?
"Y-Yes, it's where she always goes. She likes the meat better there than any other market." Guk whispers, closing his eyes.
"Right. And when did you notice she was missing?" Kim asks, sipping his coffee.
The slurping is incessant and Jeongguk's eyes spring open at the loud noise.
"T-Two hours she left. She always calls me when she gets to the supermarket. She always stays on the phone with me. She didn't call and hours passed."
He relives it daily and to tell this detective it again for the seventh time is heart wrenching.
"And you don't think that maybe she just ran away? Maybe it wasn't your baby… Maybe she went off with someone else?"
The accusation sends fury coursing through your husband and he bares his teeth at the question.
"She would never leave me. We love each other, we've been together since highschool. I went to that fucking supermarket and found the door to her car open and her car keys on the ground." he seethes, slamming his hand onto the wooden desk.
Detective Kim doesn't move, he doesn't flinch, he just hums in agreement which is insulting enough.
"Right, it says that in this missing person's report. Well, let me just make it clear that she has been missing for three months already. We have no leads and we don't know if we'll ever find her."
"You're the POLICE. It's your fucking job!" Jeongguk shouts, standing up and leaning down onto the desk with his fists.
"I'm just giving you the statistics, Mr. Jeon. No need to act violent." Kim warns, narrowing his eyes up at the broken younger man.
"I'll show you violent. Find my wife. She's fucking pregnant for God's sakes! She's in danger!" he spits, feeling the nervousness grow and peak inside of him.
"Are you threatening a police officer, Jeon Jeongguk?" the detective quips, standing up on his own volition.
"Find my wife!" Jeongguk seethes, kicking the chair over and leaving.
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Getting home, Jeongguk rattles his keys loudly before placing them in the dish by door.
"Baby? I-I'm home," he calls throughout the house.
He's learned over many trials and errors that it's best if he announces himself before entering any room. It seems to calm you in some way.
He finds you in the kitchen, temple pressed to the window as you watch the rain fall onto the back patio.
"It's coming down a lot out there," he breathes, looking you over.
Your hair isn't combed through and you still look pale but you're home.
"Y/N?" he calls softly, setting down the take out onto the kitchen island.
He hasn't been up for cooking lately, he's been too much of a nervous wreck.
You haven't so much as even looked at him since you've been brought back home. But, he's okay with that, just you even being here is perfect.
"I g-got us jjajangmyeon for dinner, I know you really like it from Golden Tiger." he whispers.
He nods a bit when you cup your growing stomach and just stare out the window.
You don't eat with him. You don't like it. It makes you scared.
He finds his chest clenching and he tears his eyes away from you. His fingers card through his long blond hair and he takes a deep breath to try and calm himself.
"I'll just leave it here then. Don't let it get too cold, it won't be yummy." he croaks, grabbing his take out container and a beer from the fridge.
He finds it easier to eat in his home office.
Picking up the black bean noodles with his chopsticks, he stares at the wedding photo of the both of you after you graduated college.
The smile that you give him is so blindingly beautiful and your eyes are alight with love and compassion for your husband.
He stares at it until his eyes are blurry with tears and suddenly he's lost his appetite.
"Fuck," he curses, throwing down his chopsticks and covering his face with his hands.
The silence echoes throughout the office and he can barely string a thought together.
But then his memory cuts through everything and it grounds him with peace even for a minute.
"You look like your brain is gonna explode!" you tease your husband, peeking your head into the home office.
He looks up from his computer, giving you a chuckle and then a pout.
"I'm so swamped with emails," he whines, opening his arms childishly for you.
You can only giggle, skipping over the large rug and sitting on his lap.
He groans teasingly, burying his face into your neck and sighing.
"Why am I so swamped, baby?" he whispers, kissing over your skin.
"Because you're a genius and everyone wants your help with building. What did Forbes say about you last month? Oh yeah! 'Jeon Jeongguk is the world's youngest ever architect that built a skyscraper that exceeds all expectations of reality.' And they're absolutely correct." you beam, planting a sloppy kiss on his cheek.
He laughs gently, rocking you back and forth on his lap. "Man, how did I get a wife that's beautiful, amazing AND smart?"
"Oh, you definitely got lucky." you quip, laughing loudly when he begins to tickle you.
Guk stares at the doorway, bringing the beer bottle to his lips.
"Oh, babe, what am I gonna do?" he breathes, putting his head back to the top of his office chair.
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Jeongguk's bed is cold, it's always cold these days.
You don't sleep with him anymore but he understands, you don't like contact of any kind. He can't imagine what you've been through or what you feel.
You certainly haven't voiced anything about the terrible experience you've been through.
Sometimes he can hear you crying late at night. He can hear your small sobs and it tears him into pieces.
In the moonlit room, he stares at his gold wedding band. His eyes drift to your empty side of the bed and like a child, he grabs your pillow. Burying his face into the soft fabric, he sighs loudly.
The room swallows the sound, and from the guest bedroom down the hall -- he hears your sob.
Guk's eyes squeeze shut and he prays that sleep will finally find him soon.
He's exhausted.
All he does is stare at his phone.
Jeongguk just stares and stares at his phone, willing it to ring and to tell him that you're on your way home.
He's cancelled all his major building projects for the foreseen future and everyone completely understands. Or so they say.
He has enough money to sit in this same exact seat for the next twenty years and wait for the phone call.
He's not fucking giving up.
He's not taking his eyes off the phone for a minute.
He owes it to you, the woman who he's pledged his life to, to get you back.
There's always this feeling -- this rush when a phone lights up.
And that rush only happens to people who are desperately waiting. Whether that be for a job interview, a text from their crush, an email from their boss telling them they got the day off.
But when his phone lights up, he thinks solely of you.
And after months of devastation and painful waiting -- Busan Police Department calls.
"Y-Yes!" Jeongguk screams into the phone, his index finger shakily tapping the speaker button.
"Mr. Jeon? Jeon Jeongguk? We've found your wife. She was left abandoned off the Olympus Expressway."
His nervousness doesn't cease and he feels like he's going to throw up any second.
He doesn't know why the question passes his lips but it does. "Is s-she alive? Is my wife alive?"
"Yes, Mr. Jeon, she's alive, she's being transferred to the Busan Hospital as we speak."
He falls out of his chair, wailing loudly. His hands clamp over his mouth and he gasps for air like he's been deprived of it.
"Mr. Jeon? Are you coming to the hospital? She won't speak to anyone."
His eyes squeeze shut and his heart pounds so loudly, he thinks it might explode.
"Jeon Jeongguk? Hello?"
"Yes! Yes, I'm coming!" he screams, putting his hands to his forehead.
"Any progress this week, Jeongguk?" Namjoon inquires.
Your husband stares straight ahead at the ornate clock on the wall. He shakes his head, swallowing thickly.
"We always sit here in silence, is that really okay for you?" Dr. Kim asks, crossing his legs and pushing his glasses up with his middle finger.
His lips puff out in thought and he sputters them softly. "There isn't… anything to talk about." he breathes, shaking his head.
Namjoon hums thoughtfully, tossing the clipboard onto the table beside him. "I beg to differ. There's a lot of pain in the situation that you're trying not to resurface."
Just the mention has Guk blushing and the first reaction is to get violent. His eyebrows furrow and his nostrils flare at the therapist before him.
"This is painful, Jeongguk. And you trying to bury it deep inside of you isn't going to help."
Your husband scratches at his neck, looking down at his wedding band. He closes his eyes and takes a deep, soothing breath.
"Why don't we try an exercise this week? Hmm? Homework isn't the proper word to call it. Are you up for it?"
Guk sighs, spinning his wedding band on his finger as he thinks. Anything would be better than this. He loves you so much that he's willing to try anything. So he nods.
"When you get home, even if Y/N doesn't talk to you or look at you. Why don't you tell her one of your happiest memories you can think of that involves her? Even though she isn't speaking, she can still hear you. I think that might be healing for you -- maybe her as well." Dr. Kim suggests, smiling kindly at his patient.
There're so many moments, how could Guk pick just one?
"Alright. I can try." he bleats, looking back up at the clock and hearing the seconds tick away.
"Good! Next week we'll talk about how that felt for you."
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Jeongguk shakes his keys, setting them down in the bowl by the door.
"Baby, I'm home!" he calls loudly, sliding his feet into his slippers.
The house feels colder today and he knows that winter will soon be nipping at the world's ankles.
He's a fabulous architect but his heat proofing in this house wasn't the best.
You're sitting on the couch today, staring aimlessly at the wooden floors.
"Are you hungry, babe? I brought you home some chicken soup. It's good for our baby girl." he inquires, walking past you and towards the kitchen.
He sees you thickly swallow and it makes his heart thump harder within his chest.
He leans down on the marble island countertop and he stares straight ahead for a while. He remembers when you first put up the small paintings that make up this large masterpiece above the dining room table. He fell in love with it so quickly.
He feels deathly nervous, like the day when he asked you to marry him.
"Y'know," he begins, he takes a deep breath and he just bares his soul before you, because it's just natural, "I remember the first day I ever saw you. It was in seventh grade and you had on the school uniform but you had these fake red highlights in your hair. They were, like, woven into your ponytail holder."
His fist tucks beneath his chin and he smirks at the memory. "I just knew you were going to get in trouble for it because it was against school code. I remember telling you about it too and you just stared at me and said, 'So?' And I was like, 'Damn, this girl is so badass. I wanna be this badass.' Mrs. Park came up to you and you didn't give a flying shit when she reprimanded you. And I remember that I stared at you like you were the sun. I wanted to know you immediately, I wanted to be by your side. I wanted to be your friend. I was falling in love with you then."
He hums sweetly, wrinkling his nose at the memory.
"I just wanted to say that. I know it's really difficult for you right now. I understand. I can't begin to understand what you went through." Jeongguk breathes, opening up the fridge and grabbing a beer.
When he looks over towards the living room, he can see you staring at him through the turned off television and his eyes suddenly burn with raw emotion.
"I-I miss you." he gasps, putting his hand to his heart.
He stands still for a while, just letting the both of you look at each other after so long. He blinks his eyes rapidly when his tears get in the way of being able to see you.
When you finally look away, he takes a deep breath through his nose.
"I-I'll be in my office. I know you find it hard to be in the same room as me." he breathes, rounding the kitchen island and heading down the hallway.
When he opens the door to his office, he has to cup his hand over his mouth at the sound of your voice.
"I miss you, too."
He slides down the back of the door, pressing his forehead to his knees and he bites down hard on his index finger to quiet his blubbers.
You spoke to him.
"What are you doing?!" you giggle as your husband slides his hands over your eyes.
"It's called a surprise, you've never heard of one?" he quips, kissing the crown of your head.
You hum playfully, folding your arms and relishing in the way his chest contorts against your back.
"Why am I being blinded? What's the surprise?" you inquire, tilting your head until you finally whisper, "Is it something kinky?"
Guk laughs loudly, letting his head loll back. "You fuckin' wish." he teases.
"You're right, I do." you jeer, allowing him to guide you along farther.
"Silly," he chuckles, promptly stopping you.
You feel his hands begin to get a little sweaty and you know this only happens when he's deathly nervous.
"Gukkie? What is it?" you ask sweetly, running your fingers over his bare arms.
"I just hope you like it." he breathes, pressing his lips to the top of your head.
"I like everything you do, Guk," you reply, drifting your nails over his skin.
"Remember in eighth grade I promised you that I would build you a house?"
"Yeah out of popsicle sticks and spit," you guffaw.
He takes a deep breath, pulling his hands away from your face.
When you open your eyes, the bright sun makes you squint but the gasp that leaves you has him stunned into silence.
"Oh my God, Jeon Jeongguk!" you yell, bunching your hands up into your hair.
The house is sleek and modern with asymmetrical shapes and big open windows.
When you turn to him, his eyes are wide with nervousness. "D-Do you like it?" he bleats.
You have no words, instead you decide to tackle him onto the front lawn.
He groans loudly, wrapping his arms around you like always. "Is that a yes?" he chuckles.
"Yes! Yes! I fucking love it! I fucking LOVE it!" you screech, cupping both sides of his face and pressing a wet kiss to his lips.
God, it's fucking cold in this house. Guk shivers beneath the blankets and he can only imagine how cold it must be in the guest room.
He explicitly made it colder so guests wouldn't stay as long.
There is a rule, y'know. Guests are like fish -- they stay for three days and then anything after that, they start to stink.
You must be fucking frigid. But he remembers when he checked on you one night soon after you came home and you screamed so loud that it scared him to his core.
He doesn't want to frighten you.
He tucks his body into fetal position, squeezing his eyes shut in hopes that he'll just pass out sooner or later.
The silence in his room begins to echo like white noise and he can only whine softly.
When he couldn't sleep before you were taken, you used to play the sounds of the sea for him. He can remember the waves crashing against the coastline and a seagull or two crying out high above the water.
He hasn't heard the sounds of the beach in so long.
He lays like this for a long time, just keeping his eyes shut and listening to the heater click and roll every so often.
But then he hears the sound of feet.
Your feet.
They pad slowly throughout the hallway and he takes a sharp breath when they stop in front of the master bedroom.
The door creaks open and his bottom lip purchases between his teeth. He makes no movement. He doesn't know why you're in here but he doesn't want to scare you away.
After a while, the sheets ruffle and your side of the bed dips.
He presses his lips into a thin line, feeling his hands begin to shake with nervousness. He can't possibly move, he wants you to stay right where you are.
You take a sharp breath between your teeth that makes his heart beat faster and when he slowly opens one eye, he can see you rubbing your growing stomach.
He swallows the sob that threatens to escape and he squeezes his eye closed one more.
He finds it comforting to hear the sounds of your shallow breathing. He relishes in it in all honesty. He adores it.
It's the one sound he probably couldn't live without, besides your laughter.
And as he drifts off to sleep, he can hear waves lapping against the shore.
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"So, how was your experiment?" Namjoon inquires.
Jeongguk finds himself smirking, running his fingers through his hair. "I think it went really well."
The therapist sits forward curiously, widening his eyes at seeing Jeongguk give a semblance of a smile for the first time in a month.
"Would you like to share that experience here?" Dr. Kim inquires.
Your husband sighs dreamily, staring down at his wedding band.
"Well I did as you suggested and I told Y/N about the first time I ever saw her. When I looked over at her, she was looking at me for the first time since she came back. It was through the television but… she was really looking at me. I told her I missed her and-and she said it back! Last night, it was freezing in the house and Y/N came and laid down with me in bed." he gushes, putting his hand over his heart.
Namjoon smiles, his deep dimples etching into his cheeks. He quickly writes something down before setting the clipboard aside. He gives your husband his undivided attention, intertwining his hands in his lap.
"Well, that must feel amazing. Especially after feeling alone for so long." Namjoon beams.
Jeongguk nods almost childishly. "It was amazing. I didn't get to touch her and we didn't talk but finally she was in our bed again, y'know? And she told me she missed me too, which felt incredible."
Dr. Kim has seen your husband for a while now and this is the most he's ever said in a one hour session.
It's honestly a relief to see Jeongguk actually coming out of his shell, if only on a miniscule level.
"Well, I think the exercise definitely helped, right? I mean, Jeongguk, this is progress. I'm sure it feels amazing."
Guk nods, leaning back comfortably into the couch. "Yeah," he laughs, "I'm so elated. I don't know what else to say."
Namjoon leans forward, putting his elbows to his knees. "Well then, I think we should make another exercise for you guys."
Your husband listens attentively, crossing his legs and sitting forward.
"Maybe this week we can delve into staying in a room with Y/N. How does that sound? You can stay in a room with her and just talk for awhile and even if she doesn't respond -- that's okay. She was listening to you the other day."
Jeongguk nods, a small smile playing on his lips. "Yeah, I'd love that."
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"Baby? I'm home!" Jeongguk calls loudly, tossing his keys to the side table.
He peeks into the living room and you're not sitting in the same seat he left you in when he left.
His eyebrow quirks up and he looks into the open kitchen only to find an empty space.
His first thought, however terrible it is, is that you've left.
You got so scared that you bolted after sleeping with him in bed last night.
"Y/N?!" he croaks loudly, tossing the bags of dinner onto the kitchen island.
His mind begins to muddle and his hands start to sweat at the simple thought.
He rushes down the long hallway of your home, checking his office, his bedroom, the guest bedroom.
You're nowhere to be found.
"Y/N!" he yells, shoving open the nursery room door.
You flinch gently when the door makes a loud noise and Jeongguk is immediately calmed by your presence.
"I-I'm so sorry. I just thought you left. I didn't mean to scare you, please forgive me." he begs, shutting the door as quietly as he can.
You're staring at the crib your husband bought just a month or two ago.
Before you were taken, this room was completely empty. You hadn't talked about themes or what you would need but while you were away when Jeongguk wasn't staring at his phone, he was setting up the nursery.
He didn't know the gender then, of course, and he only found out at the hospital when you were picked up from the Olympus Expressway but teal was always pretty to him and it's one of your favorite colors.
"I know you like teal so…" he finds himself at a loss for words.
You pick up a small stuffed animal that sits in the crib and hug it to your body.
Jeongguk shifts from one foot to the other uneasily. He just hopes and prays that he hasn't frightened you too badly.
"Do you…Do you wanna talk?" he inquires softly, sitting down on the floor.
You stare at the white and teal abstract paintings that make up the wall.
Your husband looks down at his hands, staring at his wedding band like always.
"I-I know you're having such a difficult time adjusting and God, I can't imagine what you went through but I miss you, baby. I miss you so much. I would stare at my phone all day just waiting to get a call from the police…" he breathes.
He doesn't look up at you, if he does then he might be too nervous to speak his truth.
"If you hate the nursery we can always change it. I just needed to do something. I needed to prepare for you to come home because I knew that you would. I knew you would come back to me."
He can see your feet turn towards him and you slowly but surely make your way beside him before sitting down.
You're about a foot apart but he takes that. He takes anything you want to give him.
"I love it." you breathe, looking down at the teddy bear and running your fingers over the soft fur.
Your voice sends him spiralling and he clenches his hands together to steady himself.
"I don't have a great sense of style like you, so I just bought a bunch of stuff and placed it everywhere." he chirps, looking around the room.
"Hate the changing table." you whisper.
The notion makes him laugh and he finds himself chuckling heartily at your words.
He hasn't laughed in so long that it feels euphoric.
Jeongguk turns his head to you, his blonde hair falling into his eyes. "I love you. I know you're probably not ready to come back to me yet but I'm always here waiting."
He can see your eyes becoming glassy and it's like a dagger to his heart. He presses his hand to the left side of his chest, taking a calming breath through his nose.
You don't move and you don't speak, you just stare down at the teddy bear that absorbs any falling tears that escape from your eyes.
"Are you hungry?" he inquires, folding his arms.
You sniffle gently, pressing the teddy bear to your growing stomach.
He doesn't want to force you to do or say anything. So he just sits beside you. Because he always will.
Silence takes over the room, coating Guk in white noise.
"I thought I was gonna die." you announce softly, playing with the hem of your dress.
He squeezes his eyes shut, his bottom lip starting to quiver at your admission.
"I didn't think I would ever see you again," you gasp, gripping the teddy bear tighter.
Jeongguk can feel his eyes burning with raw emotion. He can feel his body shutting down to it's baser instincts.
"I never gave up hope. I always knew you would come back to me. I just knew it." he breathes, looking over at you.
You give a small nod, wiping your cheeks almost childishly.
"Thank you for speaking to me. I miss your voice." he whispers, looking up at the ceiling.
There's silence again.
"I wasn't allowed to talk." you murmur.
His fists squeeze tightly at the admission and he can feel this anger swirling deep within his gut.
You haven't said anything, especially anything about when you were taken so the small sliver of information you've given him makes him see red in that quick minute.
"Did they…Did they hurt you, baby? Is that why you won't let me touch you?" he inquires softly.
You swallow thickly, standing up and putting the teddy bear back in the crib. "I'm hungry." you bleat.
Jeongguk realizes he's stepped too far for where you're comfortable, so he nods in agreement.
"Yeah… Of course. I brought home some sesame chicken. Come." he says quickly, trying to take your mind off of everything.
"What do you think?" you ask your husband, picking a small onesie off the store rack.
Jeongguk lowers his sunglasses, staring at the small article of clothing.
"It's yellow," he replies, garbled around a piece of hotteok.
"So? You don't like yellow?" you quip, looking down at the small bumble bees buzzing around the fabric.
"You're not pregnant yet," he states, sitting down on one of the benches near the shoes area.
"So? I can't buy a onesie if I'm not pregnant?" you gasp playfully, pressing the baby clothes to your chest.
He looks at you incredulously, fighting the smirk that threatens to spread over his lips. "What're you saying? You wanna have my baby?"
You roll your eyes, placing the baby clothing into the cart. "Isn't that every woman's dream?"
He blinks. "To have Jeon Jeongguk's baby? Yeah probably."
Your snort seems to carry through the thin air of the department store and Guk watches as you rifle through more clothes.
Wiping his mouth with his napkin, he takes you in. The way you sway to the music that creeps through the loudspeakers and the way your fingers deftly card through the small onesies.
God, his life is so perfect.
You're so perfect.
He's the epitome of luck and he surely believes he saved the king in his past life to be so blessed this time around.
"I love you," he breathes, pushing his sunglasses to the top of his head.
Your smile is blinding and you cross through the aisle, sitting down on his lap and hooking your arms over his neck.
"I love you, too." you coo, booping his nose with your index finger.
You ate in silence but at least you stayed in the same room as him.
Guk noticed how slowly you ate, like you were savoring it as if it was your last meal or something.
He appreciates that you spoke to him if only a few words. He'll cherish it forever if he's being honest.
But with the absence of sound, he found himself thinking of so many questions that won't leave his brain.
He knows you're not ready to answer them. You may never be ready.
But he has them prepared just in case.
Now, laying in bed, he hopes you'll come and sleep with him again like last night. He hopes it wasn't just a one off.
Jeongguk's head lays down on his pillow and he stares at your side of the bed.
He likes that your side is still a bit wrinkled from last night, it reminds him again that you were next to him.
When he hears your small footsteps, he closes his eyes. He pulls a soft throw pillow to his chest and hugs it as tightly as possible.
It feels like an eternity, waiting to see what you'll do but then finally you slip into the bed beside him.
He peeks one eye open and he's met face to face with you.
You haven't been this close in ages.
"Hi baby," he whispers, closing his eye.
He can only chant to himself, 'Please don't leave. Please don't get scared.'
He can feel the bed dipping closer and closer to him and his eyebrows furrow curiously.
You're moving towards him?
He can feel the soft skin of your arm grazing against his and a shiver runs up his spine.
He whimpers gently, embarrassingly so, at your body so close to his own.
Guk can feel his eyes welling up with tears.
He takes deep, calming breaths to try and steady himself.
“D-Don’t move,” you beg of him and his body goes rigid at your request.
His eyes snap open and he watches you lean in slowly. He holds his breath, swallowing thickly when you press your forehead to his.
Fat, salty tears roll down his cheeks when your stomach presses against his arms.
You take a sharp breath between your teeth and it echoes through him like he’s a vast canyon.
Jeongguk can feel his hands sweating and he wants to hold you so badly it’s almost ripping him apart. But he keeps true to your request, locking his joints in place.
“Okay,” you breathe nervously, closing your eyes.
Your lips move ever so slowly towards his and he squeezes his eyes shut.
When he feels the soft petals of your lips against his, his whole body relaxes and he sobs weakly against you.
He doesn’t kiss back, he just allows you to do what you please -- to take what you need.
Your small hand wraps around his wrist and it dangles limp within your grasp.
“Baby,” Guk sobs softly as you pull away.
You don’t reply, you just lay his hand softly on your stomach and turn onto your back.
His sobs crack with the sheer amount of pain and relief in his throat. He can barely hold himself together and when a tiny patter makes itself known under his hand, he begins to wail.
You squeeze your eyes shut, covering your face with your hands and even though this is so painful -- it’s so healing.
“T-Thank you,” your husband cries, burying his face into the throw pillow he holds so tightly to himself.
“Love you,” you whimper, turning your head and staring at the closed windows.
He nods childishly, running his hand over your growing stomach.
“I love you too, baby. So much.” he gasps, feeling his heart begin to bleed again.
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Jeongguk doesn’t even give Namjoon a chance to sit down. He starts speaking the minute he steps foot into the therapy office. “She kissed me.”
Dr. Kim grabs the arms of his chair, slowly sitting down and raising an eyebrow. “Jeongguk, that’s amazing.”
Your husband doesn’t even sit down. He feels like he’s floating on air and he wants to keep it that way. He paces back and forth behind the long couch, pocketing his hands deep into his pants.
“She’s making so much progress so quickly! I’m so proud of her!” Guk whines, lolling his head back.
The therapist writes something down on his clipboard, looking up at your happy life partner. “Would you like to talk about how this happened?” he asks with a small smile.
Jeongguk is like an excited puppy, rounding the couch and throwing himself down on it immediately. “Well, I did exactly as you said. I stayed in the nursery with her for a while and I was talking and she talked back!”
Namjoon hums thoughtfully, scratching his nails to the fabric of his chair. “Did she say anything important? Anything that would help us delve deeper into what happened to her?”
The happiness starts to bleed out of your husband as he replays your words from last night through his head. “Y-Yeah. She said she thought she was going to die and she was so afraid that she would never see me again.” he bleats, looking down at his shoes.
Dr. Kim nods, setting aside the clipboard and folding his hands. “That must have hurt.”
Guk can’t help the frown that spreads over his features. “Yeah, it did hurt. I asked her if they hurt her and if that’s why she won’t let me touch her but she didn’t give me an answer.”
There’s silence again and Jeongguk finds it just as uncomfortable as all the other times before this.
“She’s definitely still learning to cope and she’s almost certainly healing little by little. Did you do anything else with her?” Dr. Kim inquires.
“We ate dinner together and… God, Doctor Kim, you had to see her. She was eating so slowly like it was her last meal or something.” your husband bleats.
Namjoon nods understandingly. “She might not have been given a lot of food when she was taken. It’s good that she eats slowly.”
Jeongguk didn’t even think of that… he feels like an asshole now.
“And what about last night? Did she sleep in bed with you?”
Oh, but that question brings back the excitement.
“Yes! She laid next to me in bed and-and she asked me not to move. So I didn’t but she leaned in really close and kissed me for the first time in… forever. She also took my hand and put it on her belly and I felt the baby move.”
Namjoon purses his lips impressed. “Well, that’s amazing. Maybe we should think about bringing Y/N to a session maybe next week. What do you think about that?”
Your husband nods almost instantaneously. “Anything that I can do for an exercise to help her?”
The therapist narrows his eyes thoughtfully. “Try to just talk to her some more? Next week, if she wants to come for a session then maybe we can work on her being okay with some simple touches.”
Jeongguk nods, a surge of hopefulness fleeting through him. "Okay!"
The flowers and plants in the backyard have been doused and seemingly flooded by the constant rain.
It's killing your tomatoes and you can only scoff as the rain continues to batter down outside.
"Do you see this?" you gawk to your husband, tapping your nail against the glass door to the back patio.
Your husband turns away from the television to look at the downpour outside.
"I know, it won't stop. How am I supposed to go survey the land for the new Seoul project if there's flooding everywhere?" he gripes, setting down his beer.
"Uh. Yeah. But my tomatoes!" you whine, turning to him with a pout.
He can only smile at your pouty face, standing up off the couch and opening his arms for you.
"I'll get you new plants if these are damaged. You know that, baby." he coos.
You hum in agreement, wrapping your arms around him and tugging him tightly to your body. "But then I'm gonna have to start all over again. Amena and Allegra have been growing for a year already."
Jeongguk can only snort, running his hand over your head in the most soothing of ways. "You named our tomato plants?" he quips.
"Yeah! They're like my children! I water them everyday, I talk to them so they become big and strong, I love them." you retort, running your hands underneath his white tank top.
"God, I need to get you pregnant already. I think you're going crazy." he jeers.
You snort, placing your temple to his chest and feeling his even, strong heartbeat that's become the song of your life.
"I hope I don't get my period this month." you breathe, closing your eyes.
He smiles, placing his chin atop your head as he stares at the torrential rain outside. "Me too, baby. Me too."
Jeongguk has become a master at the staring game.
He stares at you every second he possibly can in hopes that he can memorize every single thing about you.
But tonight, he just lets everything go.
He stares up at the ceiling instead of grabbing a pillow and pressing it to his chest. He watches the shadow of tree limbs dance across the moonlit ceiling and it shrouds him in ethereal comfort.
Out of the corner of his eye, he sees you enter the bedroom. While you do make yourself small, he can see your hands pressed up underneath your belly almost as if you need the support.
You're slow to climb into bed and he moves the throw pillow out of your way without a single word.
You've done really well today, you held eye contact with him many times and you even answered a few of his questions.
He has faith, now more than ever, that things can go back to the way they were.
"Baby?" he inquires softly.
You grab his hand and place it on your belly without a word.
Turning your head to him, he knows you're listening even if you don't speak.
"Will you come with me for a therapy session next week? Doctor Kim thinks it would be a good idea." your husband asks, tracing the outlines of the warped branches on the ceiling.
"Yes. I want to heal." you whisper and he gives a small smile at your words.
"I think you're doing better and better everyday." he announces, running his thumb over your distended belly.
You shiver at the movement but you don't push him off.
Leaning over to the nightstand, you grab the lotion that hasn't been used in months but Jeongguk can already smell the telltale scent that is purely yours.
You hold it out, looking at your husband with doe-like eyes and he can only smile.
He sits up with a giddiness that has his limbs trembling with excitement.
"If you don't like it, tell me, I'll stop right away." he promises, pushing the comforter off the both of you.
You take a sharp breath at his closeness, looking up at the ceiling to calm your erratic heart.
He lifts his long t-shirt that you wear for sleeping and he can feel his eyes burning at the sight of you.
Tying his hair up in a ponytail, he can see how taut your belly is -- how well his little girl is growing inside of you.
"Oh my babies," he coos gently.
He bends down, keeping his eyes on your face. His lips pepper small, open mouthed kisses to your taut skin and you wriggle beneath him.
You don't want to push him away but you haven't been loved like this in so long -- it makes you nervous.
You squeak gently when he kisses your belly button. His hands are so warm at the bottom of your bump and you shiver.
"Too much? Am I doing something wrong?" he asks softly, watching your hands bunch up the sheets.
"N-No," you gasp, squeezing your eyes shut.
There's a layer of sweat that begins to build on your scalp and you know it's because of the nerves.
"You're so beautiful, baby. Thank you for carrying our daughter." Guk breathes.
He pulls away from your stomach, you've done really well so far letting him kiss you like this without flinching away from him.
He squeezes some lotion into his hand, hoping to warm it just a bit before spreading it out onto your skin.
You wince at the still cool lotion and your limbs tense up when his hands glide effortlessly over your bump.
It's terrifying to be touched but knowing that it's Guk -- the only man you've only ever known or loved makes it just a bit easier.
"Wonderful, you're doing wonderfully babe." he promises, dutifully lotioning your belly.
You look so motherly below him, like an angel of fertility and he can't stop the tears that obscure his vision.
When he sniffles, your eyes snap to his and you can see the sheer amount of adoration he holds behind the windows to his soul.
"I love you," he breathes, running his hands over your sides.
Swallowing thickly, your hands, as shaky and terrified as they are, cup his face. Your thumbs swipe away his tears and he can only sob more at the feeling.
His slick with lotion hands, wrap around your wrists and delicately he presses kisses into your palms.
"You're home with me now. I'm never going to let anything terrible happen again. I'm going to make sure you're safe. I swear. I promise," he gasps out against your soft skin.
You can barely contain the sob within your own throat but you nod childishly at his words.
He covers his face with your hands, crying loudly into the cover you've given him.
"I love you, too." you promise quietly.
His eyes flutter shut and he can only give your hands more kisses until his tear ducts have no more salty tears to shed.
"You're so beautiful and so precious to me. I love you so much." he bleats, letting your hands go.
He continues his work in silence apart from sniffles and rubbing his red cheeks onto his bare shoulders. His fingers are gentle against your tummy and you know he needs this.
He needs this connection with your daughter because it's been so sorely missed. You had her and only her when you were taken away but Jeongguk had nothing.
He had nothing but heartache and waiting.
When he's finally finished, he sets the lotion back on the table before throwing himself down beside you.
"I miss holding you," he chirps, reaching for the throw pillow to hug.
You bury your terror deep down inside, moving closer and closer to him until your stomach is pressed up against his.
You both collectively shudder at the touch but when his arms wrap around you and you smell the familiar scent that is purely his… you find yourself relaxing even in the slightest.
"Thank you," he gasps, running his hands over your back.
His face buries into your hair and you can only give a meek nod.
"Oh fuck, this feels good." he whispers, closing his eyes.
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Your husband holds the door open for you and you shuffle slowly into the therapy office.
Jeongguk didn't know how difficult it would be for you to go outside but when he put his hand in yours, it helped in ways he could never imagine.
"Hi Y/N, it's so nice to meet you," Dr. Kim greets sweetly.
You give a small smile, sitting on the far end of the couch and tucking your legs beneath you as if to make yourself miniscule.
Namjoon looks you over before nodding to himself. He puts the clipboard down and watches your husband take a seat at the other end.
"Jeongguk has been telling me about all the amazing progress you've been making." Namjoon informs you.
Guk takes in the therapist then. He's soft and sweet with you but not so soft that he'd be talking to a child or someone young. He's had to do this quite a few times, he surmises.
"You don't have to talk if you don't want to. This is a safe space to just be," the therapist looks pointedly at Jeongguk, giving him a soft smile, "how has your progress been this week?"
Your husband smiles at the question. "She's doing so great. She let me put lotion on her belly and she slept in my arms all night long last night, didn't you baby?" he gushes, looking over at you.
You nod, looking over at him and giving him a small smile.
"Well that's great. It seems a lot of progress has been made. Y/N, did you know that when your husband first came here he didn't talk at all for the first month?" Namjoon inquires, pointing his pen at your significant other.
"No," you murmur curiously, staring at the handsome blonde man you adore.
Dr. Kim appreciates hearing your voice even if it's soft and short.
"Well, I didn't want to talk a lot because I felt foolish." Guk admits it easily.
You pick your head up fully then, giving your attention to him.
"Why is that, Jeongguk?" Namjoon inquires.
Your husband clears his throat awkwardly, looking down at his wedding ring and widening his eyes. "I felt like a failure… Cowardly, too. My wife was missing for months and I did my own search in finding her and came up with nothing. Then, the police -- they were all brazen assholes that even when they found Y/N they just threw her into my care without any extra help or reasoning behind anything… She was afraid and I-I felt guilty."
You swallow thickly, leaning across the couch and wrapping both of your arms around his right bicep.
He does what's always been normal to him, kissing the top of your head.
Namjoon watches as you shiver but don't pull away and he hums in agreement.
"Why did you feel guilty?" he prods, crossing his legs.
"Well… I'm her husband and I let such a terrible thing happen to her. I'm supposed to keep her safe and I-I fa-failed. Then when she came back to me, she was so frightened and I was at such a loss of what to do, it… it ripped me apart inside."
Namjoon can hear your small gasp even if your husband doesn't and he nods understandingly. "Y/N, do you have anything you want to say about that?"
You hug Guk tighter to your body and his eyes squeeze shut. "It's not your fault. It's no one's fault." you bleat sheepishly.
Dr. Kim nods astutely, leaning forward until his elbows are on his knees and his hands are intertwined beneath his chin. "Nobody in this room is at fault for what happened. There are terrible people in this world that sometimes make horrible choices and it affects others."
Then there's silence for a second and you watch Jeongguk spin his wedding band around on his fourth finger.
He only ever does this when he's deep in thought. On instinct you reach over and press your lips to his cheek and his hand comes up to cup the side of your face sweetly.
"Y/N, do you still feel the need to flinch away or scream?" Dr. Kim asks and you can feel your face paling in color.
Your eyebrows furrow and you hug Guk tighter to yourself.
He looks over at you and you can see the pleading in his eyes -- he needs you to talk about this, he needs to understand.
"Yes," you chirp, looking down at the knees of your leggings.
What a simple question.
Jeongguk coddles you to his body and he watches as your pupils shake back and forth. This is when you're deep in thought.
He closes his eyes and he knows that you probably won't answer, you aren't comfortable with this man.
"Because they used to hit me." you breathe, closing your eyes.
Guk takes a sharp breath between his teeth, turning his face away from you as his jaw clenched tightly.
"Did they know you were pregnant?" Dr. Kim asks, picking up his clipboard.
You shake your head and your husband can feel your hair whipping around at your answer.
"Did you tell them that?" Namjoon asks, pushing the bridge of his glasses up with his middle finger.
"Yes, then they stopped." you reply.
"Fucking pieces of sh-"
"Jeongguk. For Y/N's sake, we're not going to get angry here. We're going to just listen and understand." the therapist cuts him off quickly.
Squeezing his fist tightly, he brings it to his forehead before nodding weakly.
He doesn't want to scare away your progress but this ball of hatred within him grows tense and feels more like fire with every passing second.
"What did they want with you? Why were you taken? Do you know?"
Your teeth nibble at the inside of your cheek and you can feel the sensitive flesh becoming raw and cut up with every worrying clench.
"It's okay if you want to wait to spea-"
"I don't." you squeak quickly.
Namjoon nods, leaning back in his chair and extending a hand for you to speak when you wish.
"They were doing drug stuff." you blurt, finding it kind of relieving to speak about it.
"Oh? And did they make you do drugs?" Dr. Kim asks.
Jeongguk scoffs so loudly that it makes you cower but he's quick to apologize profusely and kiss the top of your head repeatedly. "Baby, no. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, baby girl."
"Jeongguk." Namjoon chastises softly and your husband holds up his hands apologetically.
"They didn't make me do drug stuff. I bagged up drugs… I think it was cocaine or something but I'm not sure… I don't do drugs." you announce, squeezing your husband's arm sweetly.
The therapist watches how your legs tug out from underneath you and slowly plant onto the carpeted floor. He doesn't speak, he waits for you to.
"My ankle was chained to some type of radiator. The metal got warm at night so… that's how I knew. I wasn't allowed to speak and they conditioned me to it. So I didn't or… couldn't tell them I was pregnant. But one of them, Taehyung, noticed after a few months. I can remember them fighting about it or yelling about it for a while."
Jeongguk watches how you stare off into space and he wants to pull you away from those memories and shield you so badly but you need this. You need to speak about it to get over it.
"So one day when everyone was out to lunch, Taehyung asked me if I was pregnant and I said yes. I don't think he liked keeping me there in that state and he kept rambling on about two mouths would be worse than just one. So he told me he was going to kill me and put an end to my misery. And I thought that would be best."
Guk squeezes his eyes shut, biting down on his lip to the point that it might draw blood but then you begin to speak again.
"I was waiting and waiting to die but it never came and then at night, a bag was put over my head and I was knocked out. Then I woke up on the Expressway six months after I was taken." you state, looking down at your husband's wedding band.
Jeongguk shudders and he takes a deep, calming breath through his nose.
"Thank you for telling us, Y/N. I know this certainly can't be easy to relive. But now that it's out in the open, we can work on rebuilding your relationship with Jeongguk. How does that sound?"
You nod immediately, looking up at the blond haired man you adore.
Namjoon gives a small smile, putting his clipboard aside.
"I think the next exercise you should do as a couple is to continue to heal together. Whether that be physical or talking. It's important to get back to the patterns you had before this."
"Physical?" Jeongguk echoes, tilting his head.
The therapist takes off his glasses, cleaning them with the hem of his sweater vest. "Sexual intercourse is healing, Jeongguk."
Your husband blushes a furious pink that radiates to the tips of his ears.
"That doesn't mean you have to rush home and try it. You should build up to it. Allow things to become comfortable again between the both of you. You can only start to heal when you allow yourselves."
That resonates deep within you and you find yourself yearning for comfort after so long.
You want to be back to your full self, even if it would take a day or a year to get there.
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"That was great babe, you did amazing. I'm really proud of you," Jeongguk gushes when you both finally get home.
The small smile you give him has his heart melting with love and he holds back the biggest urge to throw his arm over your shoulders.
You know that this must be torment for your husband and the guilt within you is constantly growing.
When you walk into the kitchen, it piques Guk's curiosity. He watches as you rifle through the cabinets and fridge with nosy eyes.
His elbows lean down on the kitchen island and his hands come up below his chin to investigate.
"Whatcha doin', baby?" he chirps, watching you grab a carton of eggs.
"Cooking." you reply softly, setting ingredients down on the counter.
"Wait, really?!" he gasps, standing up straight and widening his eyes.
"Take out food is bad for you," you whisper, tying your hair up.
"No, but… baby, you must be tired. You don't have to cook. I can cook." he says quickly, rounding the island to be beside you.
He towers over you and the sweet smell of his cologne puts you at ease even if he's just a touch too close.
"You don't know how to cook," you remind him, flipping open the rice cooker.
He scoffs, widening his eyes playfully. "Yes I do! Why would you offend me like that?"
You giggle gently, a simple reflex and the both of you freeze.
Wow, you haven't laughed in… ages. It feels so good to laugh.
Guk swallows thickly, hoping that this isn't the straw that breaks the camel's back.
Your laugh is so pretty, prettier than most things in this universe and his stomach does flips at the simple noise.
Your cheeks even hurt from the smile you produced, those muscles haven't been used in forever.
Jeongguk waits patiently to see if you'll be the one to speak up and he's grateful when you do.
"I'm sure that you remember the fried chicken," you offer, grabbing the bag of rice from the bottom cabinet.
"Okay!" he groans, "how was I supposed to know the oil was too hot? In what universe do things immediately char when put into hot oil?"
"This one," you quip softly, smiling to yourself as you add water to the cooker.
His arms wrap around your belly, caging you into his grip and you're so distracted with the fun memories that you feel no discomfort at all.
This is natural.
This is good.
Feels damn good, too.
"I've made other food that's been tasty." he counters, kissing over the back of your neck with soft, sweet lips.
You shiver at the feeling, letting your eyes flutter closed.
It's so natural to tease your handsome husband and on instinct you do so with a playful tone.
"The galbi, the egg fried rice, the hamburgers, the pizza, the sweet and sou-"
"Yeah, yeah, yeah alright." he murmurs, chuckling into your ear.
You hum sweetly, shutting off the water and letting your body get comfortable with the familiar arms around you.
Of course this isn't easy, it isn't easy to try and force the terror that is constantly awake inside of you away. But because it's Guk, your husband who you love more than anything, it makes it just a little bit easier.
"What're you making for dinner anyway?" he inquires, kissing the crown of your head repeatedly.
With each kiss, his pectoral muscles ripple against you and you've forgotten what it's like to appreciate your god of a man. Before you were taken, you worshipped his body like he was a god. And you think that's been sorely missing for him as well.
"Egg fried rice." you reply, turning around to him.
He takes a sharp breath between his teeth at the sight of you so close to him. Taking a step back, he doesn't want to make you uncomfortable but your hands reach up to his hips and still him.
"Just stay," you whisper, watching his eyes become glassy.
Cupping his cheeks with your hands, you smile up at him gently.
His eyes flutter shut and he's in such incredible peace.
"Kiss me, please." you ask of your husband.
His eyes spring open and he hums with uncertainty.
"Are you sure, baby? I don't want to rush our progress. I don't want to scare you." he coos, running his hands over your belly.
"Kiss me." you repeat.
When he bends down, your breath hitches and your nervousness grows with each second. His large body seems to drape over you like a shadow and your heart begins to hammer with fear.
You want to scream out in this second, cower away from him and everything the world has to offer.
But then his lips press to yours. He's soft and gentle, letting the petals of his lips caress yours with such love and adoration. That fear -- that anxiousness is gone as quickly as it came.
The smell of his cologne breeches your senses while you kiss, it echoes and spreads through your limbs like a forest fire.
Jeongguk cups your cheeks with his hands, wiping away tears that you haven't even noticed have breached past your eyelids.
"Oh my baby," he gasps, pulling away and pressing his forehead to yours.
"Thank you," you whimper, hugging him as tightly as you can to your body with the obstacle of his growing daughter in the way.
There's something about you on early school day mornings. Maybe you just look better in the chilly air or maybe your presence just warms Jeongguk to the point of comfort.
"Morning loser!" he jeers, fumbling with his tie.
"Oh, I'm the loser, am I?" you quip, leaning back against the large cherry blossom tree beyond the gates to your high school.
"You're our loser," Jimin teases, walking past the both of you with his textbooks pressed tightly to his chest.
Flipping your other friend the middle finger, you blow a bubble in your gum. You watch as Jeongguk continues to fumble with his tie, earning creases and wrinkles in the fabric.
"Oh lord, it's like watching a 'how to fail at life' video." you roll your eyes, grabbing the lapels of his school uniform jacket and shoving him up against the tree.
He sneers at you, widening his pretty mocha eyes and you can only snort in response.
"My dad didn't teach me how to do this before he went away for his job." he gripes, gripping the bottom ends of the tie in his fists and furrowing his eyebrows.
You take pity on him then, watching his annoyance truly bubble to the surface.
"Here," you breathe, smacking his hands away from the tie playfully.
You start to tie his tie properly, blowing a large bubble that he pops easily with the tip of his finger.
"First day of the new school year, this should be fun." he says, pushing some hair back behind your ear.
You shiver at his touch, lowering your head as your skin begins to heat up with embarrassment.
"Oh God, just kiss her already. Gross!" Jimin calls you both.
Your eyes snap to one another and Guk lets out a playful chuckle. "She doesn't know what's good for her!" he teases, winking down at you.
You grumble your protestations quietly, tying the tie so tightly that he coughs loudly.
"God," he groans, moving the neck until he's comfortable.
"I do know what's good for me!" you bite back, slinging your backpack over your shoulder.
"Oh yeah?" Guk quips, walking after you, "Then kiss me."
His large eyes are devious and his eyebrow juts up with playful intentions.
"You can't do it, can you? You can't just-"
You press your lips to his roughly, not knowing how to kiss since this is your first time. His large hand cups the back of your head immediately, sighing gently against your lips. It's messy and there's a lot of teeth but your heart thrums knowing Guk is your first.
When you pull away, you want to flee almost immediately but Jeongguk doesn't give you the time. His arm wraps around your shoulders and his smile is so large and giddy that it could rival the sun with its brightness.
"So you like me, huh?" he quips, running his thumb over your red, raw lips.
"Shut up!" you hiss, pulling his tie towards school.
Jeongguk groans loudly when he climbs into bed. He turned the heat up all the way but there's still a chill in the air that makes him tug the comforter over his bare chest quickly.
He can only smirk when you step into the doorway in only his t-shirt.
"You're getting so big that your belly enters a room first, y'know," he quips.
You snort softly, a noise that used to be common but it's the first one in months.
"Dinner was delicious, I missed your cooking so much." your husband breathes, hooking both of his hands behind his head.
"You didn't cook at all?" you inquire gently, climbing into bed beside him.
He turns his head lazily to you, raising an eyebrow. "You think I could cook for myself when I was so worried? I can't cook to begin with."
"Oh, so you admit it then." you sigh, placing a throw pillow beneath your bump and turning to him.
He laughs, crinkling the corners of his eyes cutely.
The moonlight casts a bluish glow over his face and arms and you can't help but begin to lose yourself in his handsome features.
His breath starts to catch in his throat when he looks at you, your eyes are speaking thousands of words of ardor and he can't help the tug of his heart at the sight.
"Doctor Kim said we have to have sex," you bleat.
"We don't have to do anything, baby. If you aren't comfortable, then we aren't doing it." Guk deadpans, running his hand over your belly.
When the light hits his irises just right, the beautiful mocha color seems to burnish holes into your skin.
His hand cups your cheek and your eyes squeeze shut at the soft warmth.
You don't know what you're ready for in all honesty.
You don't know what you need if it isn't Jeongguk.
And you want to try at least something to feel closer to him.
"I-I want to try something," you whisper uneasily.
Your husband leans up on his elbow, looking at you with curiosity written all over his handsome face.
He looks you over, pushing the comforter off of his ever heating body and your eyes fall straight to his torso. His abs are thick and noticeable, the muscles flex and ripple with each deep breath he takes and you find yourself heating up at the sight.
The black ink of his tattoos litters his body in all the right spots and all you can think about is how much you've missed him.
"What do you want to try, baby girl?" he coos, running his hand through his long blonde hair.
"Well if you stay still… maybe I can…" you can't even find the words, your throat tightens up and you feel completely lost at what to do.
Before you were taken it was so easy to fall into bed with your husband and now it's like you're grasping for straws.
Jeongguk hitches up the leg of his briefs, raising an eyebrow. "If you're really serious about it then take what you need."
"That's selfish," you mutter, looking down as his thick thigh muscles twitch suggestively.
"Hey, hey, hey," he coos, tilting your face up with his index finger, "you need to feel comfortable again. You have my patience, my love, my heart, anything and everything. You take everything you want and need from me without guilt. I'm your husband, there's no way I could be selfish with you."
He's always been this way with you, ever since middle school. Jeongguk has always given you more than you give him and that selfless nature of his always has your heart bleeding in ways you may never understand.
You lean in slowly, your breath hitching at the closeness of him and his eyes flutter shut in anticipation.
"Take everything," he reminds you, running his fingertips over your stomach softly.
Guk can't help the mewl that escapes his throat when your lips press to his. He lets you take the lead, keeping his hands to himself politely.
Your kisses are slow and nervous but Jeongguk appreciates them all the same.
"Don't be nervous, baby. I'm right here. You're safe." he promises, pulling away for air.
You don't want this pressing anxiousness, you just want to be normal again. That's all you want.
Your hand shakes when you wrap your hand around his wrist.
"Mmm, that's it. Guide me, babe. Show me where you want me." your husband breathes out, kissing over your jaw with gentle pecks.
"Uh…" you chirp, settling his hand between your thighs.
He hums sensually, letting the heat from his digits warm your soft, cool skin. "So pretty," he purrs.
You gasp loudly when he cups your sex and his eyes are immediately on yours.
"Just relax, baby girl. If you don't like it or you aren't comfortable just tell me. I'll stop right away, okay?" he promises, kissing your lips ever so gently.
You give a meek nod, whimpering when his digits drift over the seat of your panties.
"Baby girl likes it. You're wet already." he breathes, inching his body closer to you.
He can feel the stickiness of your panties and his hips rut into the air at the feeling.
Jeongguk has been so depraved of everything besides the overwhelming feelings of guilt and loneliness he feels deep down inside.
He parts your folds through the sodden fabric, immediately connecting the pad of his thumb to your swollen clit.
"How's that, baby? You like that?" he gasps, watching you writhe under his sweet touch.
You mewl softly, squeezing your eyes shut and nodding.
There's this nervous pit within you that seems to be diminishing by the second. Every deep breath your husband takes and every word of praise that drips from his lips lulls you deeper into his comfort.
"Can I take your panties off?" he inquires sweetly, hooking his fingers into the sides.
Your hips lift within a word and he peels your underwear away at a deathly slow pace.
Your arousal is messy and stringy, breaking away from the soaked fabric to cling to your pussy lips and thighs.
Jeongguk groans wantonly, tossing the fabric away in a fury.
You've both only ever known each other's bodies. You lost your virginities together, you've both only loved each other so much that every part of your bodies is solely for the other.
Even if Guk hasn't had you in months, it's a muscle memory remembering how you like to be pleased.
"You're soaking wet, baby." he gasps, running his fingers over your puffy lower lips.
"P-Please," you whimper childishly, spreading your legs.
The wanton groan that rips from your husband is animalistic and needy at best but it pushes all your fears away in that moment.
"What're you begging for, hmm?" he coos, kissing over your neck.
"I don't know," you laugh, turning your head to him.
His smile is heartbreakingly gorgeous and he kisses you with the intensity to rival a thousand men. If this was any other time you would have pulled away but the arousal that's searingly hot and coursing through you only wants more.
You moan into the kiss, earning a gentle whine from the man you love.
"Is this what you want?" he quips, thrusting two fingers deep inside you.
Your stunted moan is loud and your chest heaves at the fullness you feel.
It's always amazing how he fills you up without even trying.
"Fuck, your pretty cunt is so tight." he groans, curling his fingers expertly to the sensitive bundle of nerves within you.
"G-Gukkie!" you whimper, placing your hand on your growing stomach.
"Feels good, baby? You like it?" he asks sweetly, placing his free hand atop yours on your belly.
You give a meek nod, mouth dropping open when he starts to pump his fingers in and out of you at a snail's pace.
"You're so beautiful," Guk breathes, pressing his thumb back to your swollen clit.
He rubs loving, smooth circles to the nub, praising you when your moans reach a loud pitch.
"That's not what you call me in bed, baby. You know better. Come on," your husband goads, lifting his long t-shirt to look at your stomach.
"Daddy," you preen softly and he smirks at your sweet tone.
"Good girl, there it is."
His fingers fuck into you faster and your hands can't stop raking over the taut muscles of his stomach.
Jeongguk feels like he doesn't have a second to waste. He wants to please you in every way and show you how much you've been sorely missed.
"What am I going to do with you? You're too gorgeous to be in my bed." he groans, pressing his lips to the swell of your stomach.
Your hips wriggle for more and he pulls out altogether. Adjusting the painfully hard erection beneath his boxers, he lays down on the bed.
"Come take everything from me, baby," he announces, opening his arms.
You feel so empty, so needy and bothered that you immediately heed his command.
Whimpering softly, your legs part over his thick thigh and he gives a warm smile up at you.
"You're so beautiful," he avows, running his hands over your sides.
His thigh is smooth and rigid beneath you. You emit a whimper throughout the quiet room as you begin to rut yourself against his muscles.
"God, you're so wet. My thigh is soaked. Fuck." Guk curses, moving your hips faster.
Looking down into his eyes, they're drunk with adoration and lust.
You're too grateful to feel so peaceful and calm in this moment. You can think of nothing else besides the man beneath you.
"Daddy, I-"
He hums in agreement, tucking his bottom lip tightly between his teeth.
He can only look at your body with wonder. You're so perfect and you always have been. You've always been a dream to him and he's so happy you can be back here in his arms.
Pushing the shirt up higher, his hands graze over your large stomach and he whines softly.
"You look so amazing carrying our daughter." he praises.
His thigh muscles flex tightly for you and your hands scramble to press against his chest at the feeling.
The pressure is so intense and so amazing, you can only babble meaningless words and sounds.
Your head lolls back and your nails scratch against his golden honey skin when the bubble inside you begins to expand.
It's been so long since you've felt this kind of relief that it's approaching at a rapid pace.
"Does it feel good, baby girl? You wanna cum for me?" your husband asks, drifting his hands over your bump.
"Yes," you squeak, allowing him to intertwine your hands together.
"Yes what?" he quips, looking down at his soaked thigh.
"Yes, daddy." you breathe, letting your head loll back.
"Good girl, I bet you're real close, hmm? Just let go, baby. Take what you need."
His hands on your skin are so gentle and sweet that it's easy to fall over the edge with someone to catch you so earnestly.
"I can feel your clit throbbing, shit," your husband whines, running his fingers through his hair.
There's a moment when everything goes still. It's just you, your husband and your deep seated pleasure. You can only begin to relish in it when time starts up again.
"Daddy! Cumming!" you gasp, squeezing your eyes shut.
"Look at me when you cum, I want to see your pretty face."
Your eyes snap open on his command and suddenly that bubble inside you bursts.
The pleasure is so intense and so mind shattering that you can only make small gasps and whines as it courses through you.
Your hips rock slowly and your brain short circuits at the explosive feeling.
"Gukkie!" you cry out softly and when your body begins to rack gently, he sits up in a flash to coddle you.
"You're okay, I'm right here. You're safe, baby." he avows, running his hand over the back of your head.
Your chest feels tight and you hug him so closely that there isn't any room for anything else.
"Are you okay? Do you want me to get you water?" he inquires sweetly, kissing your temple.
"Don't leave me." you beg, laying your head down on his shoulder.
"I would never dream of it, baby." he whispers, rocking you slowly in his arms.
Your eyes flutter shut and the small pattern of irregular shapes that your husband draws on your skin calms your heart right away.
"Felt good, huh?" he chuckles, combing his fingers through your hair.
Your nod is childish and sweet, earning a bright smile from the man before you. "I love you, y'know?"
"I love you, too." you whisper, laying down beside him as he falls back.
He looks down at his soaked thigh with a wry smile. "I still get you flooding like a river."
"You're still cocky," you sigh, burying your face into his shoulder.
He laughs loudly, wrinkling his nose. Turning to you, his thumb drifts over the apple of your cheek and he can find no greater peace than this.
"Are you comfortable? Do you need anything?" he inquires.
You shake your head softly, getting comfortable beside him. "Just you."
Those words shoot straight to his heart and he feels like he's falling in love all over again.
"Are you in pain, should I help you?" you murmur tiredly.
Clicking his teeth, he kisses your forehead. "I'm never in pain when I'm with you. You should know that by now."
"I didn't feel scared at all. It was really nice," you bleat, feeling your head get heavier on his body.
"I'll show you that you don't have to be nervous or scared anymore. I promise," he whispers, smirking when your lips part in your unconscious state.
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You're still quiet when you speak but at least you're speaking.
Guk is over the moon with how close you let him get. He can hug you and kiss you now without feeling your body tense up so tightly.
On one hand he feels guiltier, if he would have just talked to Dr. Kim from the start, maybe your healing process would have begun months before this. On the other hand, just seeing you heal is worth its weight in gold.
"So… progress? Do we want to touch on that?" Namjoon inquires, giving a smile when you sit beside your husband and not at the end of the couch.
"We got closer this week than we ever have yet." Jeongguk tells him, letting his arm go lax so you can wrap your hands around his bicep.
Namjoon's eyes widen and he nods pleasantly. "I see. How was that for you, Y/N?"
You hum softly, watching as your husband spins his wedding band. "It felt good to just relax and not be scared."
"Ah, I see. So it pushed away everything you were nervous about?"
You nod pleasantly, looking up at Jeongguk who gives you a wink in reply.
"I was really nervous at first and my heart felt like it was going to explode but then after a while it kind of melted away," you squeak, feeling your neck and ears heat up out of embarrassment.
"That's really good. It's healthy. Not many people c-"
"But I felt guilty," you chirp, cutting off the therapist.
Dr. Kim narrows his eyes at you curiously and so does your husband.
Namjoon's hands politely fold and he tilts his head when you try to make yourself smaller.
"Why, baby?" your husband pouts, running his hand over the back of your head.
"Well I didn't do anything for you." you bleat, looking down at the sunflowers that make up the bottom of your dress.
Guk frowns deeply, drifting his thumb over the base of your neck. "Baby, you know I don't care about that."
Namjoon takes off his glasses, cleaning them with the hem of his shirt as he takes in your interaction. "So, Y/N, you felt guilty that you couldn't please your husband like he pleased you? Is that right?"
Your nod is miniscule but he does catch it when he puts his glasses back on.
"I see. Well that's quite good in a way, isn't it? It means that you love your husband so much that when you can't give back everything he gives to you it makes you feel as if you've been selfish."
"I've always felt that way. Jeongguk always gives me everything and I feel like I never do nearly enough for him in return." you gasp, accepting your husband's hand when he intertwines your fingers together.
"Babe," he murmurs, brushing a few stray hairs back behind your ear.
"It's natural to feel that way. It just goes to show how much you love him." Namjoon announces, crossing his legs.
Guk pushes the side of your head until you're leaning your temple against his shoulder. His lips glide over the crown of your head and you squeeze his hand tighter within your own.
"I'm going to give you an exercise this week, Y/N." Namjoon says, putting his clipboard aside.
You perk up at his voice, tilting your head curiously.
"Please Jeongguk how you think he should be pleased." the therapist says, folding his arms.
"I'm sorry," you whine to your newlywed husband.
He looks up from the end of the bed, running his soft hands over your calves.
"Don't be sorry, you can't help it." he coos sweetly, kissing over your exposed skin.
"I want to go out and play," you whine, looking out the bay windows of your hotel suite.
The sun is high in the sky and the palm trees sway in what you can only assume is a sweet, cool breeze.
Only on your honeymoon would you get jet lagged and sick.
Guk chuckles, crawling up the bed to lay beside you. "We have so much more time to enjoy Bali, it's okay. You just need to focus on getting better right now."
"But it looks so cool outside," you whine, turning to him with a pout.
He taps his index finger to the tip of your nose cutely. "Just relax, baby. You're not going anywhere until you feel better."
Taking the cold towel off your forehead, he dips it back into the warm water.
"You don't have to stay with me, you can go out and have fun," you suggest, closing your eyes.
"I have all the fun I need in this room. I have you." he whispers, smothering your cheek with kisses.
He lays the warm rag back onto your forehead and he can't help the love that blooms throughout his body when he looks down at you.
Sure, your face is a bit pale and peaky and yeah, your body is covered in a film of cold sweat but God, you still look like everything beautiful and perfect in this world.
"You're so sweet. I don't know how I ended up with someone as perfect as you," you murmur, letting the fresh sea air blow through the window over your body.
His smile is wide and loving, a billion sweet thoughts coursing through his head at all times.
"I think you're perfect. I've loved you since the moment I saw you." he breathes.
"Stop one up-ing me. It's not good for my mental health," you jeer, letting a small smirk grace your features.
Your husband chuckles, kissing the top of your head repeatedly. "No one could ever love you as much as I do."
"Now that I believe," you sigh happily, feeling your husband lay down in bed beside you.
"Just worry about getting better and then we can go play with dolphins."
"Dolphins. Okay, just dream of dolphins." you breathe blearily, accepting the tired state the medicine is putting you in.
Jeongguk gives a lopsided smirk, watching your head tilt towards him.
"Beautiful as always," he whispers, pressing his lips to yours.
Your husband was surprised to hear that you felt guilty in all honesty.
You've never voiced it in that way before.
"Do you think that you don't do enough for me?" he inquires curiously, setting down his chopsticks.
You look up from your food and suddenly the guilt is tripling and swirling around in your gut. "Yeah, sometimes." you whisper.
"Why?" he asks, picking up his plate and bringing it to the sink.
Staring up at the paintings above the dining room table, your head tilts. "Well, you've always been this big love bug and I'm not always like that. You're really selfless and I'm not."
He clicks his teeth softly, turning to you and crossing his arms. "I love you the way you are. I love everything about you… I always have."
"That's what I mean. That selflessness." you breathe, turning to him and giving him a small smile.
He chuckles sweetly, a sound that you adore more than anything in the universe.
When you stand, he quips an eyebrow.
Being kidnapped was terrifying, coming back was just as scary but not being able to show your husband how much he's adored and loved… well that's just as frightening.
Even though you still have this constant looming of nervousness that enraptures your being, it doesn't supercede the need to show love to your husband which you're grateful for.
"What is it?" your husband coos when you grip his wrist.
You don't reply, pulling him towards your bedroom silently.
"Baby?" he inquires, allowing you to take him to your room.
Closing the door behind you, you want to flee but you stand your ground, pushing against his chest until he's seated on the foot of the bed.
He stares up at you curiously, putting his hands behind him to balance himself.
"I love you," you avow.
"I love you too. Baby, what is it? Are you alright?" he asks curiously, tilting his head.
Your knees touch down on the soft carpet underfoot and his eyes widen.
"Wait, babe. It's okay. You don't have to-"
"I want to," you promise, cutting him off.
He takes in your doe-like gaze and he hums unsurely to himself.
"Come kneel on the bed if anything, I don't want your knees to get hurt." he breathes, pushing himself back to give you room.
See. He's too sweet and gentle to be unappreciated.
You take his advice, climbing onto the bed between his parted thighs.
Licking his lips slowly, his eyes watch you like a hawk.
"Y/N, we don't have to do this right n-" he groans softly, cutting off his words when you graze your hand along his soft cock.
His eyes squeeze shut and you're almost too quick at unbuttoning his jeans.
He lifts his hips, his pretty lips parting for air and his chest seems to tighten.
You're sure he's been aching since the other night when you fell asleep on him and the answer becomes known right away when you pull down his briefs.
He's already rock hard, the long, thick length seems to twitch and pulse for relief. The bulbous head is a maddening red and he seems so sensitive that even the soft graze against his heavy balls has him whining.
"G-God," he hisses, laying back.
You lick your lips, watching as precum begins to bead at the tip.
You've only ever had this man beneath you and God, you're lucky to have him.
"Take your shirt off," he begs, tugging at the hem.
You do as told, suddenly too concerned with pleasing him than to feel any sort of nervousness.
"Fuck, your tits are huge." he groans, palming your breasts softly.
Taking a sharp breath between your teeth, you can only whimper at his touch.
"Hurts?" he asks sweetly, pulling away.
"No, no. More. Feels good. They ache." you coo.
He tugs down the cups, widening his eyes at how different they look than what he's always been used to.
"Damn," he mumbles, sitting up.
"This is about you," you whine, palming his cock.
He moans so loudly that it ricochets through you and you can already feel your panties dampening.
Jeongguk is quick to tug off his shirt, giving you full view and access to his God-like body.
"Your nipples are so puffy." he bleats, running his thumbs over them.
"Jeongguk," you croon softly, trying to admonish him but it isn't coming out as such.
When your nipples begin to harden, small beads of milk start to gather at the tips and his eyes shoot up to yours.
"I want to taste," he growls, laying you down.
He isn't sure if it's because you look so motherly and so angelic or if it's something that he didn't even know would turn him on but the sight of your breasts leaking is sending him into an animalistic fury.
"I'm supposed to be making you feel good!" you gasp, feeling his lips drift over your clavicle.
"You always make me feel good," he murmurs, scoffing loudly when you begin to jerk his cock in hand.
His lips are warm and sweet against the swell of your breasts. You can feel the pufts of hot air he expels with each groan and scoff as he snaps his hips to your hand.
The tip of his tongue peeks out between the sweet pink petals of his lips and he looks up at you for confirmation.
Your smile is enough for him to continue and his hand presses to the distended side of your stomach as he makes his dissent.
Flicking the tip of your nipple with his tongue, your milk is sweet and enrapturing against his taste buds and he preens at the taste.
"Fuck, it's so sweet." he gasps, wrapping his lips around your stiff peaked bud.
You can only whine sweetly, carding your fingers through his hair when he suckles harder.
"D-Daddy! Oh!" you cry out, running your thumb around the head of his cock.
His precum is thick and sticky as you spread it around the head and he shivers against you.
You feel relief and intoxication when he continues to suckle. "Feels so good, the other one. Please."
He complies immediately, moving to your other breast and suckling.
"Oh fuck, baby. I want your mouth on me," he begs, letting your nipple go with a noisy pop.
It's easy to get back into this routine, shoving him down to have full access to his body.
Your tongue swirls around the bulbous head of his cock, picking up the thick, sticky precum he beads endlessly.
"Holy s-shit," he groans, moving your hair out of your face.
Gathering your hair into one fist, he runs his free hand along your cheek.
With every dip of your head, a string of curses greets your ears and you know how much he's enjoying himself.
"God! You've always been so good with your mouth. Fuck!" he curses, letting his head thump back to the pillow beneath him.
His cock begins to throb as you swallow around him and the hiss of pleasure he seethes through his teeth has your loins unfurling with sickly sweet wanting.
"W-Watch your stomach." he begs when you swallow him to the hilt.
Your nose brushes against his bare public bone and your husband is quick to wipe the tears off of your cheeks.
"My cock is too big for your pretty throat, huh? You're making a mess," he coos, drifting his thumb over your precum and spit covered chin.
You don't care how messy you look, you just want him to feel good because he deserves it. He deserves everything.
You begin to fuck his cock into your mouth faster and Jeongguk can only hiss and groan semblances of words.
"You- Ooh, fuck! You're so go-good at this. Shit!" he cries out, lifting his hips off the bed.
Whimpering gently as his cock begins to throb in your throat, you grip onto his thick thighs.
"You're gonna make me cum, Christ!" he moans, tugging on your hair.
With each dip of your head, his precum squirts onto the flat of your tongue and you're so lost in the world of pleasing your husband that you can't think of anything else.
"Off, get off. I want to cum on your belly." he gasps, pulling your hair.
With a noisy pop and a soaked chin, you let his cock fall free from your mouth.
You lay down at his command, running your fingers over his abs as he jerks his cock in hand.
"You look so fucking pretty with my baby inside you, I'm-I'm gonna cum all over this belly," he whines, his blonde hair falling into his eyes.
Tucking his bottom lip between his teeth, he gives a long groan. "Baby!"
Your thighs rub together for any and all friction you can find, staring up at the handsome man. His eyebrows knit and his mouth drops open into a silent scream.
Palming your leaking breast, he curses once more before ropes of his cum land on your distended stomach. "Fuck!"
He sits back on his heels, looking you over with lust drunk eyes and the goofy grin he gives you makes your heart hammer inside your chest.
"Damn," he breathes heavily, putting his hands on his hips, "you look so good covered in my cum."
You can't help but give a sweet giggle, letting your head loll back to the mattress.
Jeongguk takes in the silence and for the first time in a long time, he doesn't find it eerie.
"Are you aching?" he whispers, spreading your thighs.
You hum nonchalantly and when he looks down at your swollen cunt, he narrows his eyes at you. "Don't try to hide your need from me. I see your clit throbbing."
"This was about you," you offer, sitting up on your elbows.
"Don't care." he chides softly, wiping your stomach with his briefs.
His arms wrap around your thighs and your breath hitches in your throat when his head bows down.
The gentle kiss he gives to your swollen bundle of nerves has your hips lifting off the bed.
"You deserve to be pleased more than anyone in this universe," he coos, licking a flat strip up your sex.
"Guk!" you gasp, fisting your hands into his hair.
"Play nice," he jeers, attaching his perfect lips to your clit.
He suckles harshly, flicking his tongue back and forth until your chest has no more air to expel.
"You're so sensitive when you're pregnant," he breathes, entering two fingers into you slowly.
You whine his name, arching your back at the fullness you feel. His fingers curl perfectly inside of you and you can already feel your head swimming with pleasure.
You didn't register just how needy you were until this moment. You were too busy trying to please the man you adore.
"Daddy!" you whimper, letting go of his hair to fist the sheets in your hands.
He hums softly in agreement, slowly adding a third finger.
It's pent up wanting that floods through you at a blinding pace and your mind goes blank in an instant.
Jeongguk fucks his fingers into you faster, keeping his eyes plastered on your stomach which seems to get tighter and tighter by the second.
It's never taken him a long time to get you to your peak and it was and is something he's still constantly proud of.
"Oh my God!" you whine, throwing your head back.
When he hears your sobs of pleasure, he lifts the hood of your clit, taking his time to caress the throbbing bud with the tip of his tongue.
"I'm gonna cum. Daddy, pl-please let me." you beg, squeezing your eyes shut.
He hums in agreement, suckling harder until your legs are twitching and freezing in place.
The pads of his fingers flick against the velvet walls inside of you and suddenly your orgasm is blinding.
Your body racks with cries and your eyes well up with pleasured tears.
"You squirted for me, baby girl." Guk coos, pulling out of you and licking his fingers.
"Oh fuck," you gasp, putting your hand over your heart.
Your husband chuckles, inching up the bed until he's face to face with your stomach.
"Hi princess," he whispers to your daughter, running his hand over the soft, smooth skin.
It takes you a while to gather yourself after that explosive orgasm but hearing Jeongguk speak so sweetly to your daughter brings you back down to Earth.
"I really missed you, y'know," he avows, kissing your belly, "Daddy is gonna work really hard to make sure you and mommy are super safe and happy. Okay? Does that sound good?"
There's a tiny kick beneath his hand that has him chuckling in an instant. "Did you miss me too? We're all gonna heal together as a family. I'm going to spend the rest of my life making up for those months, alright?"
When he looks over at you and his hair falls into his large mocha eyes, you can only smile warmly.
"I love you," you breathe, feeling butterflies swirl around inside your stomach.
He smiles brightly, rubbing smooth circles to your distended skin. "I love you, too baby."
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Healing isn't always a one track thing. Sometimes there are setbacks and turns, other times it takes years.
You feel lucky to be getting your life back so quickly and it's only because your husband is the most supportive man of all time.
"So how was this past week?" Doctor Kim inquires, running his hands over the knees of his pants.
Jeongguk kisses the top of your head, wrapping his strong arm around your shoulders when you coddle to his side. "She's doing incredibly well."
You can only beam at his words, sending a shy smile the doctor's way.
"Y/N, how did you feel about the exercise? Did you show Jeongguk how much he means to you?"
"I tried," you breathe, recalling that night. "But it's a two way street with us, I guess."
Namjoon nods, setting down his clipboard. "And you know what? That's okay. In my opinion it's better to have things equal on both sides. It's a good thing that Guk adores you so much that he doesn't want things to be one sided."
"That's right," Guk whispers, intertwining your hand with his.
You look down at his wedding band, leaning your head on his shoulder with a pleasant sigh.
"And what about the anxiety, Y/N? Did you feel much of that?"
Your cheeks burn at the intimate question but you answer the doctor anyway. "No, it all just kind of melted away. I was so focused on pleasing him that it just kind of… faded."
Dr. Kim nods, crossing his legs and taking off his glasses to clean them. "You're healing. That's so important and you're doing it the right way -- together. Soon, you won't even need to come here."
Jeongguk runs his thumb over your bare shoulder, kissing the top of your head until your mind goes blank with only positive emotions.
"What should our exercise be this week?" your husband inquires.
Namjoon tilts his head, looking over how healthy the bond between you both has strengthened. "Just relish in each other's company."
"I really hate this," Guk sighs, wrinkling his nose at the design he's drawn.
The disappointment in his voice draws your attention and suddenly you're draping your upper body over the back of the couch.
"I think it's pretty, what's wrong with it?" you inquire.
He sighs, tossing his pencil down and running his hands through his long hair.
"It just feels so… rigid and so… fucking… bland. It has no soul in it. There's no emotion."
You don't know how he's always been so creative. It's always been a wonder to watch him work whether he was just doodling random cartoon characters or he was trying to create a new look for an upcoming building.
Your husband's eyebrows are notched together tightly, completely absorbed by everything wrong with the sketch.
"It feels so impersonal. There's no real soul in it. No real connection." he seethes, frustrated.
You pout in his direction, wishing you could distract him for just a second.
He's been so caught up in this project it's almost eating away at him.
Guk hasn't been sleeping or eating the way he should, he hasn't been enjoying life since the beginning of this project.
So you do the one thing that will get his attention.
Peeling off your sundress, you stand up off the couch.
Your husband runs his hands over his face due to his frustration and his breath catches in his throat when his eyes open.
"Oh baby, I'm sorry. I'm not really in the mood to-"
"Just let me take care of you," you cut him off, unlatching your bra and letting it fall to the dining room floor.
Jeongguk takes a sharp breath between his teeth, wrapping his arm around your waist and pulling you between his now parted thighs.
His hands run over your curves, looking up at you with soft, loving eyes.
"You're so beautiful," your husband breathes, leaning in to kiss between the valley of your breasts.
You hum softly, letting your fingers card through his black locks.
His lips pepper more loving kisses to your skin before he's stopping.
"That's what this project needs. More curves! More fluidity! Motion! Something with emotion!" he cries out, sitting up straight.
You sigh, putting your hands on your hips and narrowing your eyes at him.
"I know! I know! You're so totally pissed at me but just stand there for a few minutes," he beams, grabbing the large sketching pad and his pencil.
"Mkay," you concede, watching his eyes drift over you slowly.
"You're my biggest inspiration! I don't know why I didn't think of this before!" he whines, running one hand over your bare side as his dominant hand sketches fluid lines.
"I love you," you remind him.
His hand stutters on the paper and he looks up at you with the most blinding of smiles. "I love you too, gorgeous. Always."
Today was the first day you've had company over in your house since you've gotten back home.
Jimin has been privy to everything being your husband's best friend and he's kept completely silent on the topic which you find yourself grateful for.
But the most frustrating part throughout the whole evening is feeling your friend tiptoe through every conversation you both have.
He stops talking every five seconds as if he's thinking over what he's going to say before actually saying it just in case it triggers something inside of you.
And while you're grateful -- you wish it hadn't come to this.
"Your tomato plants look healthy," Jimin breathes, nodding towards the back patio.
"Jeongguk took good care of them while I was gone." you chirp, feeling your husband's lips press against your temple.
Your best friend clears his throat, slowly nodding at your admission.
Long gone is the frail woman who would jump at each and every small sound and every quick movement.
You just want to be normal again. You don't want to be the kidnapped victim anymore.
You want to be Jeon Jeongguk's wife.
You want to be the mother of a precious little girl.
Not someone who's been taken.
Jimin taps his fingers to the arm of his chair, bringing the mouth of his beer bottle closer to his face.
He's thinking again. Thinking of what to say.
Looking down at your lap, your fingers drift slowly over the swell of your stomach.
"The baby's getting big." your best friend comments.
Your husband takes the opportunity to fawn over you, pulling you close to his sweet smelling chest. "Yeah, she is. We decided to go with Haneul for her name. It's something uplifting and healing. We definitely needed that after everything that's happened."
You're more than grateful that Guk isn't too shy around the subject.
Ignoring the situation is one thing. Pretending like it never happened would kill you inside.
Jimin clears his throat, taking a deep swig of his beer.
Maybe it's your pregnancy hormones or maybe it's something even more troublesome that bubbles with a fury deep within you.
"Jimin. It's okay to talk about it, y'know." you announce, crossing your legs.
"N-No, I know. I just-" he doesn't finish his sentence, looking down at the knees of his pants.
"I'm not scared or ashamed of it anymore. We've both started to heal properly. It's alright for you to speak about it."
Jeongguk kisses your cheek, curving his hand around your distended stomach.
"I know… I just…"
"You don't see me the same anymore? I'm not the same girl that used to stick my used gum in your hair when we were in sixth grade? I'm not the same person that helped you lose your virginity in college by introducing you to Byul? Yes, I was kidnapped. I was handcuffed to a radiator at night. I bagged up drugs for free and got like twenty grains of rice a day. I wasn't allowed to speak. I was losing the feeling in both of my legs when Haeneul kept getting bigger because I couldn't walk anywhere. But I'm okay now. I'm still me. I'm still the same nasty, irritating bitch that made fun of you for that lopsided bowl cut you decided to do on yourself so you could look like Rain."
Jeongguk and Jimin blink in unison.
Your husband kisses the top of your head repeatedly, hugging you closer to his body.
Your best friend stares at you and you can practically see the rusty cogs turning in his mind.
"It wasn't fucking lopsided. All the girls loved that look." Jimin says finally, smirking over the top of his beer bottle.
"Yeah, keep telling yourself that, bud." you giggle, letting your body relax against Guks.
"I'm sorry, Y/N. It's just taking me a while to adjust to you being back. I don't want to upset you." your friend apologizes, leaning forward and placing his hand on your knee.
"You can't possibly upset me, I'm stronger now. Stronger than I've probably ever been," you promise, placing your hand atop his.
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Jeongguk groans loudly as he jumps onto the bed.
His hands open and close childishly, giving you a big smile when you shed his t-shirt from your body.
"You okay?" your husband inquires, running his hands over your thighs as you straddle his waist.
"Yeah, I just don't want to be 'the victim' anymore. I'm healing and I want everyone around me to heal as well."
He nods in agreement, sitting up and drifting his lips over your collarbone.
"I got something you can heal if you're up for it," he quips, pulling your bra strap and letting it snap back into place.
You hum to him, gasping softly when he tugs down the cups of your bra.
"Fuck," he curses softly, suckling softly at the thin skin of your neck.
His chest presses against your stomach and when the gentle kick of your daughter reminds him she's also there he can only smile against your skin.
His hands rub at your distended sides, kissing down the swell of your breasts. "Daddy needs some one-on-one time with mommy right now."
You let out a breathy laugh only to suck a sharp breath between your teeth when the tip of his tongue flicks at your nipple.
Your back arches and Guk takes the opportunity to unlatch your bra, his hands cup beneath your breasts, pushing them up for his viewing pleasure.
"Such pretty tits," he hisses, suckling from one nipple to the other until you're a shivering, sobbing mess before him.
It's a downright sin how fast you get wet for him. He could snap his fingers and you'd be sodden in an instant.
"D-Daddy," you preen softly, combing your fingers through his hair as he pushes your breasts together.
He suckles on both nipples at once, keeping his eyes glued to your pleased face.
Your hips roll against his hardening cock, whimpering when he flicks his tongue quickly against both stiff peaks in tandem.
"You're soaking through your underwear like a little cumslut," he hums, running his hands over your back and laying you down softly.
Jeongguk kisses down your body slowly, drawing out long sighs and whines from you until your mouth is dry and aching.
He leaves hot, open mouthed pecks along the swell of your stomach as he makes his descent.
Your hands are shaky, eyes widening to watch him.
Grabbing needily at your thighs, he kisses over your clothed pubic bone, grabbing the band of your underwear with his teeth and tugging playfully.
"Fuck, you get my cock so hard," he breathes, pulling down his briefs.
His thick cock bobs in the air, pearling with precum and twitching with neediness.
"Christ," you whine, reaching forward to touch it.
He stops you in an instant, kissing up your forearm and hooking his fingers into the sides of your panties.
Guk pulls down your underwear slowly, licking his lips at the amount of arousal that is spread over your bare lower lips.
Tossing the underwear away, he spreads you open with his index and middle finger.
He hums aloud, watching your entrance pulse and quiver, begging to be fucked.
"Pretty little pussy just dying to take my fat cock," he groans, burying his face against your core.
He suckles at your lips, your clit, your thighs, adoring the high pitched whines that emit throughout the room.
"Daddy, please!" you cry out, lifting your hips for more.
Slowly, he enters two fingers into you, kissing up your belly.
You gasp loudly, letting your head loll back at the full feeling.
He curls his fingers to the spongy spot within you that makes you boneless before him.
"M-More!" you whine, fisting the sheets.
He smiles against your skin, adding a third finger.
Your chest heaves and you tug gently on his hair.
"You wanna cum? You wanna soak the bed for me? Hmm?" he inquires cheekily, kissing up to your breast.
You nod quickly, letting your mouth drop open when he begins to fuck you faster with his fingers.
He suckles at your nipple, groaning at the milk that enraptures his taste buds.
Your toes curl and your eyes become spotty.
"I want you to squirt all over my fucking hand." he seethes through his teeth.
The sounds of your wet cunt echo throughout the bedroom and your eyes squeeze shut at the oncoming pleasure that creeps steadily through your body.
"Your belly is getting so big, I love it. You look so beautiful carrying my baby." he murmurs, nipping at your ear lobe.
Your hips lift, moans turning it babbles and semblances of words from different languages.
When he feels your pussy begin to throb around his fingers, your husband moans into your ear. "You're gonna cum for me, aren't you? Cum for daddy, get my hand nice and soaked."
"F-Fuck!" you squeak, pulling at the sheets until they're pooling around your body.
Then the bliss enraptures you, you cry your husband's name loudly, slamming your hips down to his hand with a quickness to ride out your high.
You can feel your arousal squirting out of you in waves and Jeongguk groans loudly at the sight.
Pulling his fingers from your core, he rubs your clit quickly, adoring how your body shudders.
"Good girl," he coos, prying your legs open and entering his fingers into his mouth.
Whimpering gently, you run your hands over his arms, willing your breathing to return to normal.
He runs his hard cock through your folds, tucking his bottom lip between his teeth.
"Your pregnant cunt is so warm," he breathes, thrusting deeply inside of you.
You moan for him, wrapping your legs around his waist and hooking your ankles together.
His thighs spread wider, placing his hands on your belly and running his thumbs soothingly over the skin as you accommodate to his large size.
He starts off slow, letting the bulbous head of his cock drag through your plush walls sensually.
"Oh fuck, yes," he hisses, peppering kisses over your knee and down your thigh.
Your husband takes his time, letting his hands roam over your body.
He's afraid to cum too quickly, it's been a long time since he's been inside you.
Lifting your hips off the bed, he palms the skin of your backside.
"Yes, God, right there!" you whine, digging the heels of your feet into his back.
"Yeah? Right here?" he teases, thrusting hard to the one spot that has your mind swimming, "Like that? Your pregnant little pussy wants more right there?"
You cry out loudly, bringing your hands to knead at your breasts.
"Yes, daddy! More! Please!" you beg.
"Open your mouth," he instructs, letting one of your cheeks go.
Doing as told, he enters two fingers into your mouth. He keeps them flat on your tongue, picking up speed with his hips.
You whine and gargle against his digits, keening loudly when he throws your legs over his shoulders.
He angles himself forward, minding your large stomach.
"You feel so fucking good around me. You're so fucking wet, sloppy little pregnant hole just for me."
You sob loudly against his fingers, letting him fuck you down the bed.
His teeth nip at your calf, groaning at how impossibly tight you are for him.
"What's that, baby girl? I can't hear you. You want it harder? You want me to wreck your pregnant pussy?" he hisses, hooking an arm around your thighs and pressing them tightly against his body.
You scream against his fingers, your second orgasm approaches like a freight train and you know all too well that you won't last much longer.
"Fuck, look at these tits," he groans, pulling his fingers from your mouth and drifting them over your hardened nipples.
"Da-Daddy, I'm gonna cum. I'm gonna…" you whimper, scratching your nails down his thighs.
"Oh, yeah? You wanna cum on this thick cock? Go ahead, baby girl. It's all for you," Guk moans, sliding his knees under your backside and ramming the head of his cock into the soft patch of nerves within you until you're squirting for him once more.
"Christ!" he cries out, pushing your legs off his shoulders and angling his body over yours.
He's seemingly hypnotized by the way your breasts heave upward with each thrust and he keeps his hands on your belly, rubbing smooth circles to the skin.
"Tell me you love me," he begs, squeezing his eyes shut.
"I love you," you sob, watching his long blonde hair fall into his eyes.
"You're never fucking leaving my side again," he seethes, leaning down and suckling at your breast.
"Oh fuck, I'm gonna cum," he sobs against your nipple.
You feel it then, his cock thickening and throbbing for release within you.
"Where do you want it?" he gasps, looking up at you.
"In me, cum inside me! I want to feel it!" you beg, running your nails down his arms.
"Oh, baby!" he moans, thrusting slowly and deep until warm ropes of cum lather your spent walls.
He lets out a shaky sigh, pulling out of you and spreading your lower lips. "Push it out," he instructs.
You do as told, pushing his cum from your blissed core.
"Fucking hot," he murmurs, kissing over your shoulder and laying down beside you with a groan.
His hand cups your stomach, his face nuzzles into your neck and your rapidly beating heart begins to even out once more.
"I love you, baby. More than anything or anyone in this universe." he avows tiredly.
When he feels the gentle kick of your daughter beneath his hand he lifts his head. "You too, princess. I love you too."
You smile at the sight, closing your eyes.
There is no one in this world that could help you heal like your husband beside you.
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"Well," Dr. Kim breathes, "I think this is going to be our last session."
"Really?" you inquire, wide-eyed.
He nods in agreement, taking off his glasses.
"You've healed so much over this past month. Faster than I've ever seen before. You're an incredibly strong woman." the doctor announces.
"Well I have the most supportive partner," you smile, nudging your husband who winks at you in reply.
"You'll still need to be open with each other. You'll need to rely on one another and keep it up but that hole within you is filling up more and more each day."
Jeongguk nods astutely, kissing your temple sweetly.
"You both are the perfect example of healing with a loved one. I can see how much you love each other. I can feel how much you adore the other and that's powerful. That can get you through anything."
Your chest puffs up at the therapist's words. There really is no better person to heal with than Jeon Jeongguk.
"I love you," he whispers into your ear.
"I love you too." you reply, intertwining your fingers.
"And on that note, that ends our session." Namjoon smiles, putting the clipboard on the table and putting his glasses back on.
In this moment, Jeongguk takes in the silence and he relishes it.
While it's loud and it's deafening, it calms him.
Because when you're by his side, the silence sounds like the most healing, romantic song.
2K notes · View notes
taegularities · 9 days ago
begin | jjk (m)
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Summary: “Being a human isn’t that bad when he gets to be one with you by his side.”
Before everything shatters like a mirage of an impossible dream, you teach Jungkook how to live a fulfilling life far from Heaven. His numb heart starts to gradually light up again; you make him begin believing in love and hope when not even starting afresh could. But then... everything shatters.
pairing: Jungkook x reader
genre: s2f2l, fallen angel / fantasy!au; fluff, angst, smut
warnings: major and minor character death (but the fic has a happy ending nw !!), themes of death / rebirth / illness, bad childhood / foster parents, not exactly biblically correct - i took some liberty with these themes (no insults or anything offending tho), jk is mean at first but softens up and becomes the sweetest guy ever, swearing, unrequited love for like... 5 seconds; explicit sexual content: outdoor foreplay, handjob, oral (f. receiving), groping, fingering, soft dom!jk, lots of kissing, unprotected sex (reader is on pill just for him, be careful guys), praise kink, marking, some manhandling, dirty talk, jk’s goddamn muscles and moans gawd
word count: 26.6k
a/n: first of all, look at this banner by @ddaechwita​, I’M SO IN LOVE, TYSM !!!!! T_T this fic was written for the wings collab hosted by @missgeniality​ who also beta’d this fic and listened to me ramble about it for months, along with @jimilter​, my talented lil goofball !! thank you for making fallen angel jk (and the summary smh) so much better <3 PLUS, ash and @ressjeon​​, i love you babies for lending me your beautiful names for some of the scenes *cries* !!
uploaded to AO3, too (for those who prefer pdfs or mobile readings!)
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Angels fall with a dull thump and the flash of a light.
A human ear registers the sound as a small whimper, a soft wind blowing and howling in a somewhat strange way for only moments before normality returns. But differently from mere mortals, Heaven and Hell shake at the disturbance, the rare happening indicating the failure of another superior creature.
Jungkook doesn’t remember the thump and the fall, but he remembers the brightness vividly - a striking and blinding light before he entered the life he’s gotten used to now. The punishment he’s wandered into would certainly be less frightening if he knew how he’d gotten to suffer through it and how he can fight it.
But his memory doesn’t reach as far back as he’d like to, leaving him with no other option but to live through the motions and waves of life until a secret is revealed to him one day. At least that’s what he hopes for - to find the answers to his being and to his way back. To find a reason for his misery and misplaced existence.
The thing is just that waiting seems everlasting. Like Heaven and Hell have given up on him and found something else to study and explore. He wouldn’t be mad if that assumption rang true - after all, he’s just a measly man, a failed angel of the universe who no one could be bothered with if more important business and struggles exist.
And even for him, thoughts of wings and images of the fall fade into the background as he approaches day after day, being the human he was punished to be; paying rent, studying, working out - everything that he’s supposed to do.
Jungkook is a college student when he first talks to you.
An overall permanently silent guy. One to sit in the last row, arms crossed in front of his chest and his head tilted, prolonged. You sometimes wonder if he’s even listening; and if he’s not, you wonder how he passes every single class with top grades without fail. You who struggle to keep your focus on the dull, monotone voice of your teacher for too long.
Something about Jungkook has always seemed too mysterious, too enchanting to you. Like he’s an otherworldly existence that wanders the Earth just to make the most skeptics believe in magic. And as you sit right next to him in class today, the spell pulls you in harder, your eyes trying their best to look at the pencil between your fingers instead of at his sharp profile.
It’s just close to the end of the lesson that you clear your throat - much to your surprise, without gaining any sort of attention from his side. Your digits fiddle with your pencil half nervous, half excited, your bubbly personality hidden behind the smile you practiced before talking to him.
But when your writing utensil rolls over to his space, your gaze widens and your teeth grit, an apology almost toppling out of you before he blinks once and looks at you carefully. And you’re devastatingly mesmerised.
His eyes are almost black, dark and starry, matching his raven hair and his somewhat ominous, somewhat bored stare. He takes in the surprise on your face, the curve of your lips, the raise of your eyebrows and the dark red chenille pullover that looks way too warm for late September.
The moment you sigh, he asks flatly, “Are you okay?”
You feign innocence and confusion, trying your best to not let it show that you’ve been thinking about him the whole time you’ve been sitting here - the whole time since college started. Your years-long crush has become too annoying to ignore. And in that sense, you’re glad when you hear his soft voice start the conversation first.
“Hm? Oh. Oh, yeah, I’m fine. Just bored,” you tell him quietly, smirking slightly before you watch him avert his gaze again. His arms unfold as he brings his hands to the table and intertwines his fingers, focusing - or pretending to - on the content presented by your professor.
Your motivation sinks as you watch his attention and interest fade, and you chew on the inside of your cheeks for a moment before you lean in closer to him and add, “Don’t you think so, too?”
He doesn’t look at you properly as he shrugs his shoulders, leaning back and saying, “It could be worse, I suppose.”
Come on, Jungkook. You’re not boring, so stop acting like it.
He’s cold - has always, undoubtedly seemed like it, too. But you know that this can’t be all - behind his neutral face and lips forming a line, there must be more, something you can crack.
You hardly notice that you’ve been looking at him for too long - the pretty, defined features framed by pitch black hair, the melanin, sun-soaked skin and the pout of his plush mouth. And when he notices, his head moves to the side again, meeting your ogling and making you flinch as he inquires, “Can I help you somehow?”
Okay - now or never. He might declare you to be the craziest presence at campus after what you’ve planned, but it might be worth it to shoot your shot.
You’re about to reflexively shake your head before you bring your finger into the air, telling him, “Actually. Yeah. I’ve been stressed these days. Been moving.”
Jungkook doesn’t know what to do with the sudden information; it’s a TMI he finds hard to respond to. His lone self searches his brain for an appropriate, social answer, nodding slowly before he says, “Oh. Congratulations.”
At least he’s polite - that might be a good start. If he just wasn’t so obviously and painfully uninterested. But still, you gather courage, wetting your lips before you ask, “Hey, Jungkook. What have you been up to these days?”
And when he thinks for a moment, shrugging again and declaring that he hasn’t been doing much other than studying, reading and working out, you continue, “Cool. Would you like to help me paint my walls and set up my rooms?”
His face turns into the biggest, personified question mark you’ve ever seen, eyebrows pulling together as he tells you quietly, “That’s… not what I meant when I asked if you needed help-”
“I know, but! I really do need some help and I don’t uh- have a lot of non-busy friends? And my family is in my hometown, and I just really cannot do this alone and-”
“Y/N. That’s your name, isn’t it?” You nod, swallowing the knot in your throat. “We barely know each other.”
“So then let’s get to know each other now!” You’re enthusiastic and stubborn, he has to admit. A bit shameless, but at least that’s better than the whispers he notices and hears when he passes theatre or engineering students outside of the building.
“And why me?” he wants to know, eyes settling on your fingers playing with your pencil before they come back to yours.
You think for a moment, blinking as you attempt to find an excuse that doesn’t start with, “Well, I kinda, sorta, somehow have a teeny tiny crush on you, just of the size of a teeny tin-”
“You seem nice,” you answer instead, your smile sweet and your words genuine, “and I’d like to find out your study secrets to top you in class.”
Your grin widens, your eyes glowing as you wait for him to react. And he does - a small, subtle smirk gracing his features that you swear you’ve probably never seen before. You’ve always been kind to everyone - maybe you’re not in the biggest friends group, but you should be. As the first one to tell him he seems nice, you really should be.
His answer comes reluctantly, his soft voice whispering words you never imagined you’d hear. Despite asking the question, you’re utterly surprised by his response, a sigh escaping through his lips before he says, “Alright. Give me your number and address.”
And it’s enough for you.
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When the bell of your new apartment rings, you’re standing in the middle of the living room. You’ve already ordered and placed the food on one of the chairs that stands under the window, and the colour for the walls is ready to bring your room to life.
You didn’t know what else to do as you waited, and now that he’s here, your heart picks up on pace a little, your feet nervously carrying you to the entrance. Glancing through the peephole once, you take a deep breath, straightening your old shirt with your flat hand before you open with a radiant smile.
Jungkook gives you the slightest, ingenuine smirk when he sees you, nodding slightly as you let him in and babble, “Thank you so much again. I know you could use your time better, I guess, and that’s why I’m really grateful that you agreed to do this - oh, this way.” You laugh a little, watching him close the door again that he opened before you add, “That’s the bathroom.”
The flat is small but sufficient, and in that sense, you’re surprised when Jungkook peeks into the empty bathroom and storage room before you set foot in the living room. You take his coat when he strips it off his body, placing it on the kitchen counter a few feet away. The base of the kitchen is the only thing that already awaited you when you agreed to move in, saving you a great amount of money as well as time.
“I bought some pizza,” you tell him as you watch him roll up the sleeves of his red and black checked shirt, nodding with your words, “I didn’t know if you’re vegetarian or not, so I ordered one veggie pizza and one with chicken and extra corn and… Jungkook?”
He looks up from the pale yellow paint and into your face, his expression neutral and silent. You wonder if he ever lets himself feel, lets his emotion loose and showcased in his eyes. Because right now, you see nothing; a somewhat indecipherable gloom that makes you question if you’ve gone too far with your selfish request to help you out.
“Yeah?” he responds, raising his eyebrows. He almost looks cute like that - just a little curious, a little puzzled.
“Am I talking too much?”
The question catches Jungkook off guard. He reckoned you’d be speaking about random and various topics obliviously, never quite noticing how your conversation partner absorbed the information or your bright mood. But now that you’re pouting at him, obviously self-conscious but so endlessly innocent, he can’t help but feel the urge to tell you to keep talking.
Without breaking his front, however, he shakes his head, telling you softly, “It’s fine. You’re not. Thank you for the pizza, Y/N.”
And incredibly, this is all you need to brighten up again, your back straightening and head lifting. You inhale a fresh breath of air mixed with the strong, pungent odour of the paint. Step closer to him. Tuck a strand of hair behind your ear before you clap your hands once and finally get to work.
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The first layer of paint drenches your room in the smell that not even the pizza can overshadow, but as you sit cross-legged in front of the man you can’t tear your eyes off of, you can’t care less.
He’s started smiling at you. Has begun asking you questions and acknowledging your lame jokes. His natural self that hides behind the stone-cold facade has somewhat seeped through the cracks and given way to someone who responds to your warmth with his own. You wonder what occurrence in life has made him this quiet and reserved.
But you’re happy that he’s letting the veil fall with you at least a tiny bit.
“When did you start living on your own?” you ask as you take a bite of your pizza, fingers picking up the piece of chicken that falls back into the box. “How do you like it?”
Jungkook swallows his bite, licking his lips as he squints his eyes in thought before answering, “I moved out when I turned nineteen. Life’s been easier since then.”
“How so?”
There’s no issue with some of your questions that try to dig deeper than he’s fond of. They are still harmless - but somehow, he still finds it hard to answer. “I uh- just… the same old story. I didn’t get along with my foster parents very well and my personality irked them. Didn’t suit their lifestyle, I guess.”
“Oh? What lifestyle?” you ask, eyes fixed on the edges of your pizza piece, not noticing that he’s pressing his lips into a thin, somewhat unamused line. He can’t be mean to you when you’re just trying to converse - but what he certainly can do is try to shift the topic subtly.
“You know,” he begins, a hand gesturing around your room, “dark walls, pretty emo, disliked loud noises and exaggerated moods.”
“You sound like my grandpa,” you mumble; but he hears and laughs and you smile just slightly to not show the pride the voice of his happiness brings in you. “What’s your favourite colour?”
Glad that you’ve bitten the bait and directed your questions to standard small talk again, he sighs satisfied, telling you without a second thought, “A deep, pretty purple. The kind that looks beautiful on velvet or cashmere clothes. Purple ties and purple dresses.”
You wonder if he’d like you in a deep purple dress. Your mind immediately whirs with the idea to surprise him someday, but then you push the thought away in fear he might notice your eagerness and feelings as soon as you let them flow openly.
“Purple used to be my favourite colour when I was in elementary school. But then I…” You want to say something, give more background information - until you realise that you can’t. As soon as the words slide from your lips, you grow silent, watching a question form in his eyes as you understand that he’s registered your hesitation.
But you don’t let the topic advance, focusing on the conversation at hand as you continue with brighter eyes, “I just became more childish the more I grew up. No emo phase, just flowers and sunshine.”
You flash a grin, and Jungkook watches your nose scrunch in delight, small crinkles around your eyes so genuine that he can’t help but admit that he likes the way you smile. He likes when you giggle about your own jokes and praise your own personality, proud of the enthusiasm that blooms inside you without ever withering.
But somehow, you manage to crush it within a second in which he starts to admire you, the former discomfort returning the moment you speak again. “Hm, what else… siblings, did you have siblings in the foster home you grew up in?”
Every time Jungkook thinks back to his life, he sees darkness and melancholy. Sometimes, he wished he didn’t know about his real existence, the one he harbours deep inside him without any sort of purpose. There were moments and seconds when Jungkook doubted what flashed in his dreams now and then.
The whispers of Heaven, the picture of wings, the thump he fell with - sometimes, he thought he was living in a nightmare, in some sick illusion that his brain conjured when he felt particularly down. What if he was just crazy, imagining all the things, imagining the feathers that sprouted from his back when he looked into the mirror?
“No,” he lies - that is, until he realises that it’s not exactly a lie. The people there never felt like family anyway. “I didn’t.”
His patience runs thin, the smile fading and stare focusing on the tattoo on his fingers. He wants to somehow hint at the way he’s feeling, tell you that he needs you to shut up or himself to leave. And when you interrupt his thoughts again, he feels his blood boil uncomfortably, threatening to spill out of his vessel of endurance.
“Have you ever heard stories about your parents?”
“Listen,” he says a little louder, making you flinch at your seat on the floor. He didn’t even necessarily yell, but in the hollow room in which even a whisper echoes from the walls, his tone seems intimidating - and when you look up, his glance is even scarier.
“Stop fucking asking these things.” His mood shifts in an instant, his eyes filled with something that makes you sick to the stomach. Your hand holding the pizza halts mid-air as you watch him sigh and stand, looking down at you with furrowed, angry eyebrows.
“I-” you start, ready to apologise, your heart thumping and brain finally understanding how invading his privacy at your first get-together wasn’t the ideal way to go.
“No,” he interrupts, fear shooting hot through you and warming your cheeks in the most uncomfortable way, “I didn’t come here to get interviewed. I keep my life for myself for a reason, not for you to dig until I snap. Okay?”
You merely nod as you freeze at your spot, an inner voice urging you to ask him to stay, but your tongue and vocal cords fail you miserably. Despise comes over you when you find yourself weak in front of the half-finished pizzas, your usual courage faltering as you watch him step away and hear the sound of the door falling shut.
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The bitter truth is that Jungkook never knew his parents. As a fallen angel, he isn’t sure if he has proper parents at all; after all, his body fell to the ground pre-made - there was no scream in a hospital or a happy family that taught him how to live.
Does God above count? Is that what he was supposed to tell you? Or should he have whipped up a lie convincing enough to keep you satisfied, to make you move on from his background and onto his present existence?
No matter what reaction he deems appropriate now, none of it seems to matter, the seed done and planted and your sweet self probably hating his guts. He doesn’t feel the satisfaction he usually does when he finds himself in solitude again, away from voices and people who try to befriend him and look past his bitter personality.
This time around, it feels strange, even uncomfortable to know that he might be on your bad side now - you, who couldn’t anyhow know what his emotions and thoughts consisted of. You were trying to converse; attempting hard to let him know that you were interested in him as a person. 
But now… his secure stand of remoteness is staggering.
After ringing the bell next to your name at the building, Jungkook doesn’t expect for you to open, much less for your apartment door to stand slightly ajar. He knows that you’re aware of the fact that he promised to come by today at this time again when you were still smiling and joking about food and colours. But he didn’t anticipate that you’d still wait for him, let him in so blindly.
As he steps in, the alluring scent of probably greasy food reaches his nose, but before he can concentrate on it any further, he notices something that wasn’t there the last time - he’s sure.
The whiteboard hangs right over the low shoe cabinet, most of it still clean from ink and shiny white. He smiles when he sees the message scribbled onto it in neat handwriting, the g’s curled and the horizontal line of your t’s endless.
I bought burgers today x
Pulling off the coat from his shoulders, he places it on the shelf that seems brand new as well - seems like you’re absolutely capable of building a whole piece of furniture by yourself, too. He calls your name quietly, but you don’t answer, the small and narrow hallway devoid of your presence.
Jungkook ponders if you’ve opened and ran away, leaving him to wonder if you’ve given up on seeing him again. But when he pushes down the handle of the closed door to your living room, he meets your form kneeling on the floor, working on building a chair all alone with a focused crease between your eyebrows.
“Did you hear the bell, open and rush back to your chair?” he asks softly, kindly, careful to not appear like the bad, evil person between you again.
You look up with a shimmer in your eyes, your brows relaxing as you get to your feet to walk to the kitchen sink and fill him a glass of water. Maybe it’s just your manners - or maybe it’s the nervousness that makes you avoid his stare and his form.
He’s so close to you physically, but so far away in your mind. And no matter how alone you find yourself with him in your small, humble apartment, it will never feel as though you’re getting closer to his heart.
“I just wanted to finish it before you came. Here,” you state, handing him the glass of water that he sips slowly. “I didn’t think you’d come at all.”
You bury one of your hands in the back pocket of your jeans, shifting from one leg to the other as he tilts his head in slight confusion. “I didn’t think you’d want me here,” he says, trying to find your eyes that keep staring to the floor. “But I wanted to talk to you.”
“Yeah, I… suppose I need to talk to you, too.”
“Oh?” Jungkook voices, looking at the timid way you nod but still avoid his gaze. Any other time, you would’ve died for even a hint of his attention; but right now, his eyes seem to pierce through you, and you want him to look away. “Y/N.”
“Yeah.” You’re stubborn, or simply scared, as the spot on your wooden floor attracts you immensely - but when he steps closer, placing a finger under your chin to lift your head, you think your heart stops beating for a minute. And your heart - the poor thing already struggles daily.
You gulp as you look into his face, the neutral expression gone and replaced by something warm and understanding. And as you feel your mind and heart race, he pleads, “Look at me at least, though, can you?”
With a small nod, he lets you go, ready to turn around and take a seat in the middle of the room before you begin to gabble in the good old you-fashion. “I’m so sorry, Jungkook.” He halts as you wrap your palm around his arm, his eyes shooting to your hold before they go wide, distracted from your words.
“I’m not usually like this, I promise. I try to be thoughtful and careful, and it was absolutely not okay that I made you uncomfortable like I did. I should’ve…” And the rest fades into nothing, his arm twisting out of your grip as his hand grabs your wrist gently and looks at the somewhat deep cut on your forefinger.
You see it for the first time when he does, apparently never noticing the injury until now. But you don’t care; don’t really feel any pain, speaking on as he pulls you into the kitchen and to the first aid kit that you showed him last time.
“It’s just…” you continue, holding your hand under the water when he tells you to and hissing slightly at the burn you feel, “your private life is none of my concern. I shouldn’t have pondered and ris-”
“Y/N,” Jungkook then suddenly warns, holding out a stretched hand to shut you up before he opens the kit, “stop talking for a moment, okay?”
And so you do. You pull the zipper over your mouth; watch him disinfect your tiny, harmless wound; let him wrap the finger in a bandage within a minute. Something about his concern over such a small thing warms your chest and floods affection through you, your health apparently important enough to stop any talk and conversation about reconciliation.
For a while, you wait for him to speak. Nervous and curious to know what he might be thinking as he keeps looking at the little bandage. Just like you, he stays silent, standing in front of you as you press the small of your back against the kitchen counter. And after a while, he finally breaks the quietude, covering your hand with his as he declares, “It’s okay.”
You want to tell him that it’s really not; that you want to make it up to him. But before you can say anything triggering, you choose to wait just a little longer, seeing him move away from facing you and take the same position against the counter that you are in, next to you .
“I never knew them,” he tells you quietly, gripping the edge of the countertop. You lift your head to look at him, your healthy finger running over the bandage as you admire his profile in the comforting daylight. “My parents, I mean. I don’t know who they are… or where they are. I don’t even…”
He laughs a little, an ingenuine, pained chuckle that hurts you in a way it really shouldn’t. “I don’t even know where I belong. This world doesn’t seem like home, you know? It’s why I don’t like talking about all of this.”
“This world…” you repeat. A heavy weight settles behind your ribs, an ache so intense you almost forget you’re not supposed to be sad; that you can’t allow yourself to be sad. “I feel the same way sometimes. The streets, the buildings… everything under the sun and even this flat. It all feels unfamiliar.”
Jungkook knows your detachment from the world must be different than his - but that doesn’t necessarily mean it’s easier for you. He nods along with your words, only answering when you’re done and chewing on your lips, “Yeah. But all of these things, they’re nothing you could’ve known. So I’m sorry I snapped like this, because… a sensitive topic doesn’t mean you deserve any anger.”
“I suppose you’re right,” you tell him with a small giggle, patting his shoulders jokingly, “lucky for you, I forgive pretty easily.”
Jungkook shakes his head with his trademark smirk, some of his hair strands falling into his eyes before he looks at you again and says with a nudge of your shoulder, “Lucky for you, I apologised at all. I’m pretty bad at that and usually just wait till it stops mattering.”
“Well, then it’s good you did it right away and didn’t stay silent for too long,” you tell him, lifting your finger between your faces as you add, “it’s like ripping off a bandage.”
He smacks his lips and pushes himself off the counter, hearing your footsteps behind him as he crouches in front of the chair to finish the last few steps. You’re just a person - but admittedly, a cute one. Someone he doesn’t want to get rid of just yet, an optimistic girl he wants to talk to about more and in-depth.
“My living room furniture and new mattress are coming today!” you tell him as you move to collect the trash lying around on the floor, already excited to see your apartment bloom. “Until then, we can go buy some plants and set them up if you’d like. I need something to share my carbon dioxide with.”
And again, you don’t fail to make him laugh at your stupid joke, his body feeling just a little lighter as he agrees while yours trembles and aches further; invisibly, silently.
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The white flowers in the garden are new to Jungkook. He doesn’t think he’s ever seen them before, the feeling of the petals between his fingers unfamiliar and somewhat daunting. If someone told him that they contain a type of poison blind to a human being’s eye, he would take them by their word.
But somehow, he still knows he’s somewhere he belongs - home. The cozy feeling and genuine smile on his face indicate that much. He’s close to walking away - in a direction he knows, to a goal he doesn’t know. He only takes one single step forward before a soothing voice breaks him out of his freeze, his gaze wandering over his shoulders carefully.
And when he sees her, his breath hitches for a second too long. She’s wearing a knee-length summer dress, her hair short and flowing in the pleasant afternoon wind as she calls his name again.
“They said it will take a few minutes still,” she tells him, coming closer with relaxed steps until she’s in a proximity near enough to place her small palm on his shoulder, “they’re grilling some more meat. What are you doing?”
Looking at her shoots a searing pain through his chest - his stomach drops and eyes water as he takes in her appearance from top to bottom. Then, he places his hand over hers while the other settles on her cheek, his voice so small as he says, “I know you.”
She laughs a bit, tilting her head in the way he knows he loves. Something tells him he adores it; can’t live without it. “Of course you do, you idiot,” she jokes with a breathtaking smile, the weakness in her expressions apparent but her beauty never fading. “Stop fooling around and let’s go.”
He wants to call out for her before a fog wraps around his mind, voices becoming distant and his consciousness pulling him out of the memory before she vanishes and his eyes open with a gasp tumbling out of his mouth.
Jungkook wakes up in his bed, bare torso covered in sweat and hair sticking to his forehead as he hastily looks around. The room is empty; the moonlight glowing outside his window. There is no garden - no girl to inflict pain on him or bring back nostalgia.
He’s alone, and all that flashes before his eyes to his own surprise is something, someone else… you.
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Stay there and don’t come in.
As he takes off his shoes, his lips move silently to the words written on the whiteboard before he halts his movements, mid-action. His foot slips into his boots again as he leans back against the wall, a faint shuffling in the living room catching his attention.
And then, you step out in a coffee coloured coat, holding something in your hands that you explain right the moment he recognises, “Do you want to go out and fly kites with me?”
It’s hard to say no anyway when you smile at him like that, happy about life and small things like on any other day as you step closer to him and hand him one of the thin-clothed objects. You know he won’t reject your offer; after all the conversations you’ve shared with him, you’ve figured out how to approach him to make him at least somewhat soft for you.
He likes you - enjoys spending time with you and being your friend; you’ve understood this much. And without giving it much of a thought, he proves it in the next moment when you take his hand in yours and feel his palm squeeze yours, grip it tighter.
“There’s no rain today,” you tell him as he laughs about your struggles to hold the kites in your hand. With a shake of his, he takes one of them from you, claiming it as his to play with. “There’s a small park near the church, so we can fly them there.”
“Where is this coming from so suddenly?” Jungkook asks, still holding your hand as you reach the park within a few minutes. The wind blows coldly for a moment and makes you shiver; he notices, but stays just as silent as you do. Sometimes, he wonders why you never admit your discomfort to him; instead you keep smiling and doing whatever your heart’s set on at the moment.
The park is still empty, but you know that in a bit, school will be over and children will flood the place with their giggles and daily life stories. Jungkook keeps asking you questions in his calmest voice, obviously trying to not let his coolness fall as you fiddle with the line and prepare everything that still needs preparation anyhow.
“Okay, stand with your back against the wind,” you order and hand him his bird kite. He follows your instructions without question and you signal him to step back from the hurdle that stands in front of you in the form of a tree.
“Don’t we need to run for it to fly properly?” Jungkook questions, staring back and forth from the line bar in his hands and to what your fingers are doing with your own. He mimics your actions as he holds the kite in his left hand carefully, and then launches it the moment you do.
“No,” you answer, focused on your blue and black butterfly that lifts itself to the sky slowly, “the wind is strong enough. Just need to hope it doesn’t start raining or storming.”
You look at him and his helpless state in amusement, closing the distance between you as you nod toward his bar. “Let it loose carefully. Let it roll until you think the kite is high enough, but keep some pressure on the line. Like this.”
Your hand loosens around your bar as you squint at the sky, watching the giant butterfly float freely and beautifully above you. As soon as Jungkook figures out the simple task, he executes it as well; and once he feels the tug of his bird, a surprising and overwhelming sense of euphoria strikes his insides within a miniscule, fleeting moment.
Similarly to him, the sudden flash of nostalgia you feel leaves a bittersweet taste on your tongue that both hurts and satisfies you deeply. Maybe you feel so happy because of the magical way the kite rises and dances in the wind; maybe it’s because you feel connected to the sky somehow; or maybe, it’s because it reminds you of flying a kite, learning how to ride a bike, dipping into deeper water for the first time.
And maybe, these reasons are all responsible for the slight ache inside you as well.
“This is amazing,” Jungkook confesses. You’re not looking at him, but you know he’s grinning, flashing his bunny teeth that, combined with the little mole, gives him an almost childlike look.
You smile with him, happier than ever to be the one bringing some sort of joy into his life. For a few minutes, you bask in the peace that floats in the atmosphere with the tiny particles of dust, some chuckles here, little words there breaking the pleasant silence. Then, you zero in on the kite and imagine yourself as a tiny, little fairy sitting on top of it, levitating and letting the freeing breeze tickle your scalp.
“Sometimes I wish I could fly like this,” you tell him. You’re absolutely positive he hasn’t heard through the howling of the fresh wind, but when you see his smile fall a little from the side of your eyes, you look at him softly. “Don’t you?”
His hands keep moving and hold the string tight, but his gaze soon unfocuses from his own kite to stare at you instead. He remembers early years when he’d thought that his wings would grow with his age and turn out to be powerful and functioning; a ten year old wouldn’t reckon without any proof that they’d stay broken and dark. Serving as nothing more but hollow decoration.
Since he’s learned that his angelness is nothing but a galactic joke, he’s stopped thinking about floating under and above clouds; he’s stopped dreaming about touching the sun and catching the moon and the stars. Until now, that is.
Because he knows you’re someone who craves the sky with your head high above, crossing the stratosphere by miles while you’re painfully even more human than he is. The shimmer in your eyes tells him that you know, but that you can’t help but dream nevertheless.
“I think…” he says, lost in your squinting eyes as the wind brings a burning sensation to them. He tilts his head and watches you mimic his actions with a gentle, affectionate smile. “I think I’ve realised that staying on the ground might just sometimes be better.”
The joy in your pupils and the upward twitching of your lips throws him off guard way too often. It’s a subtle feeling residing deep within his chest; something strange that he can’t define just yet, but an ache strong enough to push away to his best abilities.
He doesn’t want you to look at him like this.
Differently from him, you want him to keep staring at you like this; a cautious look that tells you his attention for the task at hand is faltering just as much as yours. If anyone saw what you’re seeing - the sparkle in his dark eyes, his mouth slightly apart and the wind blowing his raven hair into his face - they would understand why.
“You…” you begin, fondness filling your heart - but then, you feel a tug at your heartstrings before you feel it at the string of your kite, your head shooting into the air in warning. You see branches of the maple tree in front of you take your kite captive, caging it in a way that makes you realise that you have to be careful to not tear the thin material into several pieces.
You bite your lip as you try to free it from the tree’s relentless grip, Jungkook’s body nearing yours to watch your miserable, failing attempt to execute your carefully thought out plan. And right when you think you’re about to somehow, inexplicably succeed, the wind carries the sound of fabric ripping to your ears and elicits a groan out of you in frustration.
“Of course that would happen to me,” you say, tugging some more at the line, more carelessly now until the kite escapes the maple tree’s red clutches and falls to the ground in sad, slow motions. You laugh lightly, walking over to the dead object before you kneel and add, “Never thought I’d end up being a kite murderer.”
You place a palm against the wood of the tree as you hold your balance, hearing Jungkook’s footsteps break the crunchy leaves until he joins you on the ground. To your surprise, he takes the destroyed object from your hands, falling on his butt and leaning against the tree before he states, “How did you manage to ruin a kite?”
You pout at him, hissing when you fall next to him and onto the long material of your coat. “Hey, I’ve been flying kites for years and this…” You eye the tear in the nylon, furrowing your eyebrows. “...happened for the first time ever. That’s just sad.”
Jungkook’s inspecting the kite as if his glare can make it whole again. But you’re endeared by anything he does as you look at him through rose-tinted, imagined glasses. Even now, you watch his skilled, veiny hands fiddle with the damage, trying to repair it God knows how as you shake your head.
“I’m an idiot. Imagine destroying something that other people use for years without problems,” you say, pulling your legs to your torso and placing your cheek on your knees. You smile at him the moment he smirks teasingly, but the smile soon morphs into a chuckle when he demolishes the kite even further.
“Don’t worry about it. If you hadn’t, then I definitely would’ve broken my kite somehow,” he declares, playfully nudging your shoulder with his. You see the way he gulps - see his Adam’s apple move as he does so before he adds timidly, “I’ve never done this before.”
You gasp at his words, suddenly remembering the initial struggle he went through only minutes ago. Now, things begin to make sense. With a shocked voice and expanding eyes, you say, “Kite flying? In your twenty-four years, you haven’t done it once?”
Jungkook shakes his head, a type of melancholy coming over his features that has your smile already falling before he begins to explain, “I spent falls and winters at home, because my foster parents would tell me I’d get sick if I played outside too much.”
He  shrugs his shoulders, looking at you for another second before his face sinks to examine the kite further. “Then they’d proceed to warn me to take care of myself while they ran some errands. But in reality, they’d be out there, enjoying the world with their actual kids. And I’d only hear about it later.”
The silence that follows his words is a little louder than it should be; not necessarily awkward, but dimming the brightness of the afternoon nevertheless. You hate that full adults can scar a child enough for him to remember an emotion or happening his remaining life. You genuinely doubt that someone like Jungkook deserves the treatment he went through or the sorrow he still seems to feel.
“And now?” you ask, your left hand settling on his in empathy and stilling his movements.
“And now…”
“Do you think flying your first kite with me made up for it?”
He looks down at you, your eyelashes brushing your cheeks as you let your eyelids flutter shut and your nose scrunching slightly as you take in the scent of the season. You tremble again in the shadow of the tree, the sky always so grey and the sun hiding its soothing warmth. Jungkook’s body shifts closer almost unconsciously, his hand twitching to reach out for yours but refraining for some unknown reason.
Something in him wants to spoil and pamper you despite being the one to pour out his heart to you. He wants to engulf you in his warmth and let you know that it’s okay to sometimes admit that the world isn’t treating you well. Even if it’s about something as simple as the cold that the October day entails.
You never stop smiling - and he wants you to know that it’s alright to let your heart fall sometimes.
He bites the inside of his cheek with a weird, giddy feeling before he nods and says, “I think it does. And… maybe it’s better to experience some things late than never, right?” You nod along, taking a deep breath to fill your lungs with the fresh and crisp oxygen in the park. “Instead of dwelling on what could have been or what someone said or did when life was still… unkind.”
That’s when you drag his fingers away from the kite and stop his attempt to repair something that’s already broken, intertwining them with yours again and soaking in his warmth. “You can stop now,” you let him know, leaning in closer into him, “it’s okay. I got to fly it for a moment at least.”
Jungkook swallows the knot in his throat; blends out the sound of children running around and concentrates on his beating, alive, kind of mortal heart instead. Being a human isn’t that bad when he gets to be one with you by his side.
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Jungkook grows fond of your little messages fast.
Sometimes, you tell him to wait in the hallway, having already planned a small outing that would only be delayed if you allowed him to step into your living room for even a second. You love his presence in your rooms, talking to him in peace and alone as you take in his mesmerising beauty and breathe in every word he utters.
Just a few days ago, you’d drawn muffins on the whiteboard, and it didn’t take long for him to understand and drool over the fact that you’d, for the first time, tried the abilities of your oven. Just yesterday, you’d written a stupid pun with the word casserole on it, a joke he was sure had made you laugh while putting it onto the board.
Somehow, he’s found himself visiting you just for your company. Your apartment is done and ready, your furniture fitting your pretty aesthetics and the work long over. But you’ve become actual friends - something so much more than you’d initially planned, expected or hoped for.
You love that he suggests coming over without you asking much; in return, you spoil him with lunch or dinner - occasionally baked goods that he devours eagerly, much to your pleasure. As you study together or go out for a refreshing walk, time passes faster than you want it to, everything in you wishing for the hands on the clock to stop while enjoying his friendship nonetheless.
For some reason, you never step foot into his place. You don’t ask why and you don’t care much either. All you know is that as long as he’s ready to give you even a second of his day, you won’t push your luck or unnecessarily question the things in his life anymore. Because all you see is his figure anyway. His movements, his gestures, his smile that never shows itself as prominently in class or with anyone else as it does with you.
And when you feel yourself falling harder for him, your body starts burning up so intensely that you begin to suffocate.
When Jungkook enters your apartment today with the same featherlight feeling coursing through him as usual, he doesn’t expect his lips to fall this soon. Because as he stares at the whiteboard in the habit he’s developed, his eyebrows pull together, mouth moving as he reads the words written on it.
I need to tell you something.
Ridding his feet off his shoes, he finds you at the same spot at which you always wait for him after opening the door: your legs pulled and crossed, an arm draped over your couch and eyes staring out the window and at the grey clouds.
“Hey,” he greets, placing the Thai food in the bag he bought for you both on the table before he adds, “are you okay?”
“I am. Hi,” you assure, shifting to stretch your legs as you fiddle with the straps hanging from your pajama pants. “Are you, too?”
“Yeah. All good.”
The awkwardness hanging in the air is inexplicably strange, even without you telling him what he needs to know. You gulp as you try to think of what to say, merely watching him take a seat in front of you and fold his fingers as he finally asks, “What’s wrong? What do you need to tell me?”
It’s a delicate thing, love. Makes you vulnerable and delirious, the world so pink but then so dark; so satisfying but so terrifying; a dichotomy just waiting to infiltrate innocent minds until they’re left questioning. But you don’t want to question anymore - you want certainty, knowledge. Want his affection, need his reciprocation or rejection.
And with a final push and draw of a deep breath, you bury your nails into your palm, not backing away anymore before you admit, “I’m in love with you, Jungkook.”
You’re prepared to see his eyes go wide. For his demeanor to change, for his stance to shift. He does all that and you can’t say you’re surprised. But what you didn’t want, what you still try to deal with now despite only moments passing, is silence. And he gives you an abundance of it.
His stare drops to the floor, mouth apart and his lower lip jutting out as he processes your confession and the authenticity you laced your words with. Your heart pounds against your ribcage violently, threatening to explode as you try to find your breath and ask daringly, “Are yo- do you feel the same for me?”
He closes his eyes for a moment, bringing his fingers up to rub his eyelids before he opens them again and looks at you. His sight is blurred from his ministration, and he doesn’t see your chest heave, his gaze answering your question clearly before he ultimately mutters, “No.” And your heart shatters eventually. “I don’t.”
Love decides to go the dark and terrifying route - the dichotomy becomes a single, obvious revelation as you look into his eyes. You think you see guilt in them. Maybe even pain. But you know that, for him, all of this will stop mattering very soon while you’ll be left in shambles; a lovesick fool looking for something more in someone who seemed distant from the beginning.
“Okay,” you say, your voice breaking slightly, “I just wanted you to know.”
He nods as if to say thank you; in reality, the wish to rewind time and stop you from confessing anyhow lingers strongly inside him. Both of you don’t know how to get out of this situation and how to proceed - but as your curiosity wins over, you clear your throat, despite everything still inquiring, “Can I just… ask why not?”
Jungkook hoped you wouldn’t ask. Because now that you did, he’s forced to look into his heart again, figuring out why his words seem so ingenuine; so much like he’s trying to save himself. And yet, he sighs, pressing his lips together before releasing them and stating, “I don’t know. I can’t control that.”
“What can I do for you to… I don’t know. Feel the same?” you ask, your question so innocent and wrapped in a gentle tone, but the pressure it puts on him still drowning him enough to grow impatient by just a bit too much.
“I can’t do love.”
“You… you can’t?”
“I can’t,” he repeats, shaking his head with a clenched jaw. “It’s just something I don’t know how to do. I don’t know how it feels, it just-”
“But,” you interrupt, the urge to beg growing and the pathetic feelings returning, “isn’t it possible to give me a chance? Just to prove to you someh-”
“No,” he interjects, cutting your words as he notices your waterline dampen, “I’m not in love with you. And I can’t love you.” He silently tells himself to shut up. This feels wrong. “I’m sorry and I know you don’t want to hear it. But I won’t lie to you, and I just can’t fall in love with you… Y/N. Okay?”
But how true is his statement in reality?
You think it will hurt worse later. Right now, his words are just echoing through your mind, hardly registering what he’s said but crystal clear at the same time. It’s okay, you think. At least for now, the pain is bearable; what you’re scared of is later - the moment he’ll be gone and out of your reach.
“I’m sorry,” he whispers again, brushing his inked hand through his soft, black hair. He bites into his lower lip, his little mole so sweet that it seems to mock you. And then, he stands, throws you one last apologetic look, visibly taking a deep breath and clenching his hands into fists until his knuckles turn white.
You don’t know how affected he truly is, but contrary to your beliefs from a second ago, at least something about this situation doesn’t leave him heartless or numb. And yet, he breaks eye contact with you soon, walking out of the room as you focus on the food he’s brought; the food you’re sure you’ll probably barely touch.
When you hear the door fall into its lock, you bury your face in your hands, heartbroken, alone and in love.
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Since walking away, all Jungkook’s thoughts ever circle around is your face. He doesn’t know if it’s because of the expression you wore when he left you sitting at the window or a feeling he’s still trying to push away vehemently. It’s you, you, always just you.
And bearing in mind that your voice hasn’t left his memories since your last conversation, Jungkook is sure right now that he’s dreaming again.
The body he’s holding in his, swaying gently in circles, isn’t one he’s familiar with anymore. It seems distant now, like she’s someone he used to know. Her cheeks lay on his shoulder softly, arms wrapped around his neck as he takes a glance at her eyes. They reflect the fire in the chimney until Jungkook turns further in the circle, careful not to step onto her feet.
He thinks he knows the song that’s playing in the background - one of her favourite albums from the decade. For some reason, he knows she acquired it just the day before, a vinyl she showed him in excitement and anticipation.
“Ari,” he whispers softly, something in his mind clicking as he remembers her name. She looks up at him, his hands trailing from her hips to her waist and causing a brief shiver that covers her skin in goosebumps.
She’s so beautiful in the golden glow of the fire; how does he not know her properly anymore? How did he let someone like her go from his life and his memory?
One of her hands grazes the nape of his neck until it’s cradling his cheek, a raise of her eyebrows asking silently what’s on his mind tonight. For her, things are happening in real time, a date with the man who’s in love with her unconditionally - but for him, she’s a painful memory he knows nothing about but the name.
But he feels that she’s more than that. The searing ache in his chest and the way his heart pounds indicate this much, the twitching of his fingers and the urge to hold her closer to his warmth oh-so-telling.
“I feel like I’ve been looking for you,” he tells her in a hushed tone, tears blurring his sight but not enough to miss her breathtaking smile. “Are you going to stay?”
Ari pulls him closer to her lips, brushing her nose against his before she tells him with sadness in her gaze, heart falling, “No. I’m not.”
And then, she kisses him; a soft, chaste touch, barely feeling the plush pillows of his lips, but the hand squeezing her hips all the more instead. In a moment, the kiss fades again, and when he opens his eyes to look at her, her face has changed. The expression is the same, but the features are not - enthusiastic, loving eyes stare back at him, and he can’t help but fall just a little.
He brushes your hair back tenderly, looks in the depths of your pupils before his palm holds your face the way yours holds his. There’s nothing you have to say to him; you just stare, tilting your head and wiping his tears as he says, “Y/N…” He shakes his head slowly, gulping before he adds, “Why can’t I stop thinking of you?” 
“Maybe…” you start, his dream self of you so much calmer than in real life while his body runs dry on liquid, “maybe I’m here, so you can tell me something that you can’t when I’m… actually with you.”
“How do I do that? It fucking scares me, Y/N.” His voice is desperate and devastated, and something about your presence here tells him that all of this is a bad omen. It shouldn’t happen or signal a horrifying occurrence ahead, even if it’s just something his mind has fabricated to toy with him.
“Just let yourself feel. Just for once.”
Jungkook wants to tell you that he doesn’t know how - after the darkness he’s gotten used to, feelings and emotions have become a far-away phenomenon. He doesn’t know how to feel or how to give in, the answer so infinitely distant until he opens his eyes.
Because when he wakes up in his dark room yet again, panting and crying, everything becomes more vivid and sharp, the answer taking your shape and form until…
Feelings become the easiest thing he’s ever given in to.
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Saturdays are calm and serene where you live. The church near your place stands directly next to a park, the area in front of it empty except for the benches forming a half circle. With the playground in the park, one would think that the area should be crowded and filled with screaming children; but for some reason, you’ve never seen many people walking around except for Sunday prayer.
Leaned back, you uncross your legs as you bury your hands in the pockets of your jacket, watching the doves in front of you fight for the last of bread crumbs laying on the concrete floor. Around them, small drops of rain start to fall, the sky yet again darkening sooner than it should.
Autumn shows its colours as the clouds grow gloomy and grey, and the faint chirping of birds along with the leaves falling steadily gives you the Halloween feeling that every October brings. You look forward to it every year - somewhat of a sucker for everything spooky and fun as much as for flowers and poetry in spring.
But this time, your mood drops with the temperature, and you wonder if your ache will come to an eventual end today when he arrives. In all honesty, you would understand if he doesn’t. The message to meet you here was sent by you in a haze and tears, your trembling fingers dropping the phone the moment the message became impossible to take back.
You still curse yourself for ruining the high you thought you’d never come down from when he was still here and spending time with you. Something in you knew you’d build a thick and deep crack in your relationship once you admitted your true feelings to him, but somehow, keeping them in felt more unbearable.
As you wait for his hoped arrival, your eyes wander from the birds to the clouds, drops falling on your face so gently that you barely notice them. And when you look at the doves again, you see one of them limping, hopping away from the rest of its fellow species as it gives up on the hunt for some food.
Your eyebrows furrow in empathy, the injury of the little animal saddening you before you get on your feet and try to step closer. You know there’s a chance it might not enjoy your company much - but you want to inspect the wound, distract yourself somehow from your own scars that haven’t healed but worsened in the last days.
But you can’t do anything for the dove anyway; not even kneel before it to take a look - not when the world suddenly starts spinning and your body sways dangerously. Your sight becomes blurred for only a moment before darkness swallows you whole.
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Jungkook’s mind goes through every possible scenario when the ringing of the church bells grows louder, indicating the full evening hour that you told him to meet at. He can’t remember the last time he felt this obnoxiously nervous; and when he sees the benches empty, his mind fills with a dozen different emotions - because on one hand, he isn’t ready to face you just yet.
But then again, he needs to.
It’s only when he steps closer that the confusion gives way to a clear, haunting fear, the still body on the ground half curled into itself, cheeks pressing against the cement. He didn’t expect to meet your form like this; this is a lot worse than what he imagined on his way here.
His legs sprint faster to you than his thoughts can take form, kneeling in front of your face and lifting your head to his lap. Two fingers wander to your pulse, and when the steady but slow beat registers in his mind, a voice begins to scream at him to call the ambulance before he starts to lose his sanity entirely.
Shivering on his knees, rain drops fall on his phone screen as he dials the number with trembling fingers, explaining the situation with panic in his voice while he tries to shake you awake. The woman on the other end promises to hurry, but he still nearly yells that you need help, repeating the sentence until the phone falls from his hand to the ground.
“What the fuck happened? Y/N?” he begs, shaking you, holding you, his volume growing louder but to no avail. “Say something. Wake up. Y/N...”
He doesn’t know when tears and rain start to fall on your face at once, doesn’t know what is what - just as less as he notices the sirens of the ambulance blare in the background. He doesn’t realise that he’s reached the hospital until the smell of medicine and sickness fills his nose. His body walks up and down the hallway almost numbly, the door to your room never opening - that is, until it does.
Jungkook registers the words of the doctor uttered to him just faintly; he can barely hear over the ringing and beeping in his ears. The urge to fast forward becomes unbearable as the professional in front of him explains that he wouldn’t usually let anyone but family near the patient.
But he sees the genuine worry in Jungkook’s eyes, along with the unfiltered, raw affection. Some more words and apologies fall out of his mouth, and Jungkook only listens, shifting from one leg to another as he waits for the verdict, for an explanation.
Consternation, worry and fright turn to absolute horror when the doctor finally decides to tell him what’s wrong with you, and Jungkook nearly falls to his knees when he hears the menacing words. He was hoping for you to be dehydrated - or undernourished.
But not this.
Her lungs are failing.
She must have told you, but this terminal illness won’t make her last long.
You called on time. She’ll wake up soon… but I’m so sorry.
Not this.
“What the fuck are you talking about?” Jungkook blurts, looking past the uniformed man and at the door, trying desperately to turn the wood into glass to see your face again.
“She’s sick,” the man repeats, placing a hand on Jungkook’s shoulder that the latter tries hard not to shake off again. He’s just doing his job - trying to save you. “Do you want to go inside? She’s unconscious right now, thou-”
“I want to,” Jungkook interrupts, his head bursting and stomach turning; pain piercing his heart like an arrow and twisting the organ thoroughly. “Please…”
The doctor nods slowly, taking a deep breath as he looks at Jungkook’s red eyes once more before he lets him pass and almost rip the door open.
Jungkook’s body trembles when he steps foot in the dark room, only illuminated by the bright light the doctors have switched on for you over your head. He sees your nails first. They’re painted a deep lilac, one of your soft hands resting by your side and the other on your stomach. Your eyes are closed and your chest falling and rising steadily, your mouth covered with an oxygen mask.
He’s never seen you this quiet - and it scares him. Something in him thinks that you’ll wake up in a minute, look at him with wide eyes and babble about a cat or dog or bunny you patted today. But you do none of it; instead, you just take shallow breaths, the hospital wear too ugly, unworthy and colourless for your bright personality.
Jungkook pulls the chair from the small table by the window to your bed, taking a seat quietly while the knot in his throat grows larger. He takes your hand from your side into his, squeezing lightly as he listens to the beeping of the machines and the sound of your breathing that the mask enhances.
Somehow, he hopes his thoughts flow through his hands into yours in an invisible current, slowly but surely reaching your brain and telling you what he really feels. That everything he said to you was a lie - one that he didn’t tell you but himself all along.
But you don’t budge. Not when he starts sobbing. Not when he leans forward and places his head next to yours. Not even when his tears transfer onto your skin. And the agony merely grows further.
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You only wake up hours later, the sky starting to indicate dawn in reds and yellows and the body next to you snoring quietly. You wonder how he managed to stay here without the doctors kicking him out - and then you wonder how long he’s already been sitting on this chair, watching you until sleep washed over him eventually.
When your limbs twitch, his eyes flutter open in an instant, the loosened grip around your hand tightening again. You can see clearly how dry his face and how red his waterline appear, and you want to kiss his sorrows away that you must have caused in one way or another.
“Hey,” you whisper into the silent room before you try to sit straight.
His hands push you down gently again, a concerned voice warning, “What are you doing? Don’t move… stay put.”
You chuckle a little, getting rid of the annoying oxygen mask while his eyes open wide - but before he can scold you further, you assure, “It’s okay. I can take it off now. This is not my first time here…”
Your words hurt in a way that Jungkook didn’t expect a few weeks ago when your pen had rolled over to his side of the table. When you still sat next to him healthy and smiling, randomly blurting that you needed help with an apartment he had no attachment to yet. Why the universe and Heaven signalled him about his feelings just now is baffling to him; almost like a superior power is trying to keep him away from love and joy… from you.
“Why did you never tell me?” he asks with a shaky voice that tells you immediately that Jungkook houses care for you that he couldn’t admit a few days ago. Back when he left you in loneliness and with a breaking heart that feels too weak now to shatter further.
Maybe you didn’t tell him, because you didn’t want him to be with you out of pity - and maybe you were just avoiding death and sorrow as you ignored your state of terminal illness that had a destination that you would reach one day undoubtedly.
Yes, perhaps it’s all these mainstream reasons and the usual blah-blah that you see on TV; but in reality, you know there’s something else, too, something way less significant but a reason for the secrecy nevertheless.
“I just wanted to fall in love with you more,” you admit, reading the unspoken words and questions in his eyes as you continue, “just anything to feel alive. I asked for your company when the pain was bearable… almost not there. And I… being the idiot that I am… just wanted to be selfish and feel true love once before I go.”
There’s no cure for you. Nothing to save you from the inevitable end that awaits you at the end of the daunting and dark tunnel; no amount of tears and fear can make your lungs run properly again. With the hole in your chest, you tell him, “And I didn’t want to scare you off either. I thought you’d leave easily. I just didn’t expect that you’d ever reciprocate whatever I’ve become attached to when it comes to you.”
He listens attentively; but he doesn’t need to say a word anyway as tears begin spilling again - just that you don’t know that they’re a recurring sensation. For you, the picture of him crying is a brand new one, something you couldn’t have imagined in your wildest dream. You thought he got emotional, sitting here, watching you die slowly - but you didn’t expect tears.
“Jungkook,” you say affectionately, attempting to calm him to your best abilities. But somehow, his name in your voice only breaks his peace more, gut-wrenching sobs filling the disinfection-scented room to your utter surprise. “Hey.” You lift his chin, meet his tired and pained eyes, pulling him closer. “Don’t worry. I can still bother you for a few months.”
He shakes his head as if to rid his mind of all thoughts, his body shaking and face twisting as he says, “Don’t say that.” His hand comes forward to settle under your ear, his warm thumb grazing your cheek. “I just… need you to stay silent for a moment. To just pretend that’s not true?”
As you nod, your heartbeat accelerates and your breath hitches, something you notice almost as palpable as the struggles your disease brings. You let him look at you in the most crushing way someone has ever stared at you; let him caress the skin of your face as his eyes shoot from one spot to another.
Then, he confesses, “I’m fucking arrogant. And a pessimistic idiot. I don’t deserve your forgiveness and your understanding, and you certainly don’t deserve to feel like shit because of a moron like me.” He pauses, sniffles, takes a deep breath before he adds, “But most of all, I’m blind.”
Despite your romantic approach in life and your head being in the clouds constantly, you’ve never experienced true love before. 
The giddy feeling in your chest and constant shifting of your thoughts have never infiltrated your body until you grew fond of Jungkook and his presence. And now it seems so inescapable that you wonder if this strange hurricane of emotions will ever calm down; probably not if he keeps coming closer like he is now.
But when he closes his eyes and tilts his head in slow motion, you dispel every thought relating to the doom that your relationship will be in, and revel in the feeling of his soft lips instead. Time stands still just like your heart when he begins to move his mouth against yours, your tears mingling and your breaths melding as you relish his taste and affection.
The kiss stops almost the moment it begins, your head still spinning when he pulls back carefully. He places a cautious peck on your nose, intertwining his fingers with your trembling ones. The palm on your cheek wanders to your hair, brushing it back and stroking your tresses as he says, “I’m so sorry.”
Remorse and apologies don’t seem enough to make up for the pain he caused you; but you give in anyway. While doubts emerge somewhere in the back of your mind, you hope profoundly for Jungkook to shred them with time, words, touches and reassurances. You’re too blind and in love to brush away his affection anyway.
He keeps his inked fingers in your hair, memorising each patch of your face while he admits, “What idiot would not fall for you?” Your eyes lower when his palm comes down to cover your cheek, and then he leans forward again, his nose brushing against yours as he carries on, “I might be one, too. But not that big of an idiot.”
With another shaky sigh, he apologises again, your following smile so striking that even blinking and looking away starts to feel like an impossible task to him.
Your voice turns to honey and your expression lightens up, and as you pull him closer to your lips again, you whisper, “Lucky for you, I forgive pretty easily.”
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It’s getting late and the world’s growing dark outside. He’s still with you when your eyes start to droop and your body relaxes in his touch as you watch the credits of the thriller roll in.
Jungkook’s presence has started feeling different; like he’s protecting you from an invisible force that he has no power over whatsoever. After the kiss you shared on the hospital bed, inhibitions faded away and gave way to clear feelings he’d kept at bay so well. Surrendering seems simpler now, like there’s nowhere else he has to be; like there’s nothing else he’s supposed to do but be here with you.
“Are you tired?” he asks as your head drops further to his chest; but it shoots up again as you hear his voice vibrate against your cheek, your head missing his chin just by inches.
You brush your hair back from your face, fingers rubbing over your eyes before you nod and say, “A little.”
“How do you feel, pretty girl?” His digits settle under your chin and his thumb grazes your dry lower lip softly, a smile plastering his TV-lit face that causes your breath to hitch every single time you stare into his glimmering eyes.
The endearing term elicits a small giggle out of you as you grip his white, plain shirt tightly; but then you sigh, energy drained and vanishing as you admit, “Not so great, I think.”
You’ve barely uttered the last word before he frees himself from your embrace and lifts his body lightly, assuring you that, “I’ll be back in a second. Gonna get the oxygen tank-”
“No,” you interrupt, pulling him down again and pressing him against the back of the couch, “don’t, it’s… not that. Not my lungs.”
When he swallows the lump in his throat, you hear it clearly, the credits music stilling and the  screen going back to the menu before the scary yet pleasant piano tones start playing again. You look past him to think what you want him to know and what you want to ask in return; but your mind blanks with the fear that the questions flood you with.
You know he sees the hesitation in the way you nibble at your lips and bore your nails into the fabric of his shirt further, and when your eyes refuse to blink for one moment too long, he orders softly, “Look at me, Y/N.”
And when you do, your heart sinks further, falling into the pit of your stomach with the myriad of thoughts and emotions filling your mind and chest. You love the fondness in his stare - but you hate the harrowing grief and worry that accompanies it. Despite feeling safe in his arms and wanting to run back to him whenever you see him walk away, you feel selfish.
Almost as though you’re doing something preventable, if only you had the strength to abandon your reckless acts.
The guilt drags you down heavily, sitting on your shoulder like a weight impossible to lift as you say, “I’m sick, Jungkook.”
Breathing becomes hard for a moment when he registers your words and lets them sink in yet again. Every string of his heart that you pull at when you remind him of the truth aches, despite his constant attempts to ignore the inescapable reality. Instead, he chooses to spend all his time with you; chooses to read every single wish from your lips before you can utter it.
“I know.” His voice is quiet and controlled but close to reaching its limit of calmness as you shift on your seat. When your expression darkens, he understands immediately what you’re about to say; the one thing he sees written in your eyes more often than he’d like… something that has clearly been pulling your mind into depths since he kissed you for the first time.
“I don’t want you to feel like you need to stay bec-”
And with an answer already prepared, he interrupts, “It’s not that.” Jungkook’s hands cradle your face, pull it closer to his, lips ghosting over yours and eyes staring into the surprise of yours. “I promise it’s not.”
“I’m just-” you start, covering his fingers under your ears with yours, “so scared you might run away when I start to feel better again.”
Your worries and statements are destructive in the most crucial way when he thinks of the realistic conclusion your doctors gave you - because according to them, you won’t get better again.
Jungkook doesn’t say it out loud. But he does imagine how days and moments would play out if you were okay; running around, worriless about the capacity of your lungs to store air and their ability to function without struggles. He imagines you flying more kites, jumping from cliffs and into the water, accompanying him to places you both have never been - because he wants to show you.
Everything the world has to offer - he wants to take you to each restaurant in town, dive into deep blue oceans, let you pat grinning dolphins, because you never stop talking about them and the fondness you hold for them. He wants to take your pain. Take it all away.
Jungkook wants to… and for him, it’s proof enough to stay, no matter the good or bad days. Longs to show you that he means his affection, that he’s not lying and that he needs you with him, by his side, in his embrace, in his proximity, right here.
“I’m not going to run away. Not from you,” he assures, leaning his forehead against yours before he gives you a gentle, breathless kiss as tears start escaping that your cheek catches for him. The realisation that leaving your side might ruin him dawns on him with his blood boiling; and yet, you spill another question.
“Don’t you think it’d be better for you in the long run to seek happiness somewhere else than… in the weak body that I am?”
If he was you, he’d probably think and say the same things - but still, he can’t let the conversation advance in your favour, because none of it will come close to what he truly wants. He doesn’t-
“I don’t want happiness if it’s without you.” He’d rather drown with you if it means he can fall for you deeper, cherish your whole being for as long as your lungs and heart allow. “Let me stay… okay?”
He kisses you again, the movements of his lips a little more impatient and fervent than before as his fingers tangle in your hair. The gentle force of his kiss pushes your body back until you fall onto the cushion with a sharp gasp that he swallows in the same moment it escapes.
His torso ghosts over yours with a brushing touch and his hot tongue finds yours as he matches the small, sweet moan leaving your throat. Engrossed in what you make him feel, he forgets time and space, ignores that he has an early class the next morning that you won’t attend, because you already finished it last semester. He doesn’t want to think of your absence though; wants to wrap your legs around his waist instead.
Jungkook’s delicate lips always know what to do against yours - he’s a tender kisser, gathering all his emotions and manifesting them in the form of his movements that you never get enough of. Jungkook’s a focused kisser, everything around him fading until you’re the only shape he sees, your breathing and voice enrapturing him.
And most prominently, Jungkook’s an attentive and careful kisser - one to leave your lips to let you breathe; one who’ll shift his attention elsewhere instead when he feels your breathing stagnate. He knows you’d tell him too late; when your lungs are burning and your body begging for a break. So in your stead, he learns to understand your limits, lips trailing to your neck instead and planting soft, loving pecks on your flaming skin.
Damned be eternal life. Damned be Heaven and angels and wings and sinning and falling. Nothing up there could dare to compare to the celestial and seraphic glow you exude, and no angelic existence will ever seem as real and palpable as you. You who deserve to be the creature floating above clouds instead of him - instead of anyone.
How are you more angel than him despite being so earthly and ephemeral?
Million reasons to give you up can be ignored through the aid of blinding love, and he’s ready to fight them all - illness or not.
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The more time passes, the more Jungkook realises that his mysterious dreams are linked to you and are anything but coincidental. Not even dreams, as he’s finally understood, but memories - that is what the flashing scenes are. Real occurrences, not illusions. And little by little, the pictures and faces become clearer when he feels his mind slip into a long passed memory again.
He starts to remember names and gardens; sees the roses that seem healthier, more vibrant and nourished and beautiful than any he’s ever seen. Tonight, he doesn’t turn around to meet the familiar face of the stranger he calls Ari - instead, he hears the melodious tone of someone he thinks he used to call a friend; a best friend even.
“They have flowers where you’re going, too,” she tells him, sitting down at the edge of the fancy marble fountain in the small, fairytale-like garden. “The roses you’re looking at are actually inspired by those down there. But you know… enhanced so that they bloom at all times and all…”
She stops talking when she realises that Jungkook is lost in his own world, touching the thorns subtly to make sure all of this is real - even if it’s not his physical body that’s standing here in this moment. But now as it happens again, he remembers the day; even knows that he said the exact same thing the last time as he will now.
“Alyanna,” he starts, whispering but his voice still louder than the chirping of the artificial birds, “why could they not let her soul ascend?”
The girl crosses one leg over the other as her head falls to the ground - there’s no doubt that his absence will affect her in a way that won’t be reciprocated, but what more can she do but give him soft reassurances that life will restore itself again?
With a deep sigh, she opens her mouth again, finally meeting his eyes when he turns around before she says, “Meddling in human business lets a soul wander on. Not ascend to Heaven or descend to Hell. They told you, Jungkook.”
He wants to let the sobs escape, but for some strange reason, his body feels empty and his chest numb. As though his own soul is slipping away and falling already, taking more and more of his emotions and warmth. Even the cool, fresh air feels more humid than his freezing skin.
“How much time is still left?”
Alyanna takes a deep breath as she lets the words of the council repeat in her mind again, a stabbing pain accompanying the memory as she answers with affliction in her voice, “Five hours.”
By now, Jungkook’s body moves on its own accord, much like the words that he mutters in the quiet of the bright day. Until now, his dream selves seemed confused, looking around, asking questions; but in this instant, everything appears to follow a natural flow that he has no control over but to experience and endure like a bird watching from above.
“What if I don’t find her again?” he asks, closing his eyes before he lets himself fall on the grass, sitting cross-legged, with his fingers intertwined and arms leaning on his thighs. The council told him that true love and revelations awaited him when his soul felt ready for it. His mind would get wiped clean except for the fact that he fell for some reason or the other.
“All of this is… planned in a way that you will.” Her lovely, little words are supposed to be encouraging. But when a heart shatters, encouragement always seems partly effective, pain growing gradually and overshadowing everything else. “But it will hurt.”
It will hurt.
They told him the same thing. Afterlife would pain, is what they warned him of. It would test and break him and leave him with struggles he will find impossible to solve. He faintly remembers that they told him to endure whatever human life might throw at him - he doesn’t know for sure, can’t really say anything with certainty when all he could think of was Ari’s name over and over again.
Now, the word has become a silent mantra in the back of his mind that keeps repeating like a prayer. And suddenly, five hours seem too long - he wants to forget the pain and he wants her back; he wants to hear all the crazy things she said and her fingers wrapped around his palm. But she’s gone.
Why is she gone?
Despite any memory, he still cannot decipher how he got here in the first place; but the strong, sick feeling in his chest tells him he might find out soon. For now, he stares into his best friend’s brown eyes, her dark hair fluttering in the wind as he asks, “It’s not going to be Ari, right?”
How is he supposed to break any ban and curse by finding true love, if his true love has left him alone in the blank and vast universe? The stars, moon, planets and solar systems stretch so much wider now that they’re devoid of her, and he doesn’t know how he’ll manage to restore his faith in affection again when none of the faces is going to be her.
“No… and yes,” Alyanna answers, standing to come closer and pat the man who towers over her on his lean, trembling shoulder. He closes his eyes, inhales a deep breath and listens. “It’ll make sense once you get there, Jungkook.”
And then, the light of the sky disappears and darkness restricts his vision again. When Jungkook opens his eyes this time, he does so with the same numbness his past self closed them with - tonight, he doesn’t cry or sweat or panic with the moonlight drenching his room in a silver glow.
Tonight, he realises that despite the fact that his mind never allowed him to love, he’s fought it with success - falling deeper into you than the angel in Heaven would’ve ever expected.
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When the pain becomes bearable in the way it behaved before you’d broken down, you decide to use the days to try something entirely new with Jungkook. Your college cancels classes for a whole week when December approaches; your town has always been enthusiastic about the tumult that people find themselves in when the festive season comes closer.
And now more than ever, you’re happy for the strange tradition of closing schools and the welcomed distraction, your mind way too busy and occupied anyway to sit down and scribble notes in a boring lecture.
You tell Jungkook you want to rent a cabin in the woods - not necessarily to go for an exhausting hike or to collect edible mushrooms to cook soup in the evening. But more to merely walk to a clearing with his hand in yours before finding a spot to watch the stars twinkle, engulfed in his warmth. Somewhere where they glint as brightly as his eyes and don’t fade because of the thousands of city lights.
With the smile you shoot at him when you lay your plan on the table, Jungkook finds himself giving in immediately, the light around you growing brighter once more before you fall into his arms with your usual enthusiasm. The little things you love that bring so much joy to you are what let your grin be plastered on your face, shielding you from sadness despite everything you’re going through.
The day you stand in front of the wooden, small cottage, rented with the help of a college friend you know, you step in with a fascinated expression, your fingers clutching the boysenberry georgette dress under your jacket; a dress that looks a little too thin for winter. You wear wrong clothes a lot - but you never seem to care.
You lift the dress as you look around the small living room and the kitchen, Jungkook hot on your trail and happy you decided to at least wear warm stockings under your outfit. You’re lost in your own world of stars and forests - and all he can think of is your health and well-being, eyes repeatedly darting to his hands to make sure the oxygen tank and inhaler are still there.
In reality, the cabin is a mainstream, dusty and dark little collage of wood, every room combined not larger than the living room and kitchen in your apartment. But for some reason, you’re entirely captivated by the tiny thing; the humble getaway that you’ve waited for, just to spend the night with Jungkook you’ve been craving for days now.
You can barely believe you admired and crushed on him from a safe distance a little more than two months ago - only to stand here with him now, his form nearing yours from behind and his arms wrapping around your waist affectionately.
You’re standing in front of the modest bed, staring at the window and the bird that’s sitting on the frame of it. A picture of you both laying on the cool mattress flashes into your mind; then, an image of the chimney fire drenching your faces in a golden hue sets your heart ablaze; and at last, you pretend that his touches now will lead to more later, everything inside you ready to give yourself to him in any way he wants you to.
“It’s so pretty,” you tell him, throwing your head back when he lifts the jacket off your shoulders and kisses your neck gently. He blows against your skin softly before he leaves a trail of pecks along your shoulder and jaw, pushing you forward in slow motions until your knees hit the bed in front of you.
“You’re so pretty,” he counters before he turns you around in his grip. He proceeds to cover your neck in open-mouthed kisses as you both fall onto the mattress, the surprise of the hardness under you soon fading when he starts making out with you feverishly. Lifting his head only once, he whispers an affectionate ”Prettiest,” before you lose yourselves in each other again.
And in that position you remain, cuddling up under the thick, provided blankets until dusk breaks in. It’s only when your stomachs grumble that you find your way to the kitchen with giggles so unbridled that they make you forget every single worry that your daily life consists of.
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You’ve barely swallowed the last bite of your dinner, fingers unwrapping the cherry-flavoured candy you brought when Jungkook pulls you up by the wrist and hands you your jacket. He’s carrying the thickest blankets from your bedroom; one to lay on and one to wrap yourself in.
“Let’s go,” he exclaims with a clap of his hand. As you wrap yourself in your jacket and put on your boots, Jungkook distinguishes the fire in the chimney; and when he returns, you greet him with the biggest grin he’s ever seen plastered on your face. Which means a lot, because you basically don’t know how to not smile.
Right next to your cabin, there’s a small, narrow pathway that you detected the moment you arrived here. A wooden signpost nailed into the ground indicates in bold letters that the path leads to and ends on a clearing; just the place you’ve been looking forward to with what you’ve had in mind for ages.
Usually, as your friend told you, the clearing serves as an open area to grill or rest, mostly hikers finding their way there after wandering for hours. But tonight, you let the two warm blankets fall in the middle of the place, the grass thankfully dry due to the lack of rain in the previous days.
“You need to tell me when you start feeling cold, okay? I really cannot have you catch a cold when you…” Jungkook starts, but then he averts his gaze and focuses on pulling the top blanket over your chins instead.
“I know,” you assure, knowing exactly that your lungs might not handle a fever or cold. Initially, Jungkook tried hard to let you forget this glorious idea you had; but when it comes to your wishes and stubbornness, even his demeanor changes in an instant. “Don’t worry. I’ll let you know.”
You settle on the ground fast, realising soon that despite the slight coldness that seeps through the blankets, the weather seems warmer than it’s supposed to be during this season. You don’t shiver yet, revelling in the touch of him as you nestle in his embrace.
The sky glows like fairy lights, barely any clouds in sight as the thin, toenail-moon smiles down at you. Brisky wind tickles your cheeks, still comfortable enough to not let you feel the winter much; but still, Jungkook laughs, the low tone of his voice accelerating your heartbeat by a palpable bit.
“You’re crazy,” he says, the arm around your waist starting to feel slightly numb until you turn to your side. You stare up at him, his eyes meeting yours and replacing the sight over your bodies - it’s nearly as if you never looked away at all.
You become lost in him for a single moment before you giggle, smacking your lips as you respond, “Yeaaaaah. News to you?”
“Not sure if I’d survive if it was.” You open your mouth in playful shock, slapping his chest before you fall onto your back again.
The calmness and delight you feel seems incomparable to anything you’ve ever experienced before - and the heartbeat you register under your palm that still rests on his chest tells you that he perceives the moment the same way as you do. And then you think… a heartbeat… right under your palm - his heartbeat.
“I… never thought I’d ever experience this,” you say quietly, tapping your forefinger against his jacket slowly as one of the stars varies between dulling and glowing.
“Watching the stars?”
“No.” You shake your head, sighing in content. You’re so incredibly satisfied with the universe right now - no word could do justice to the perfection around you. “Watching them with you.” A small silence follows - you don’t know what he’s thinking but you like to imagine that his lips are twitching in gratification. “I’d been crushing on you for almost two years.”
He laughs softly, his body vibrating under the hand that keeps rubbing his torso up and down. Amused, he claims, “No way. Why? We never even spoke.”
“So what? You seemed interesting to me since you made that one painting of that boy.”
Jungkook’s eyebrows furrow in confusion as he scans his brain for what you’re talking about. And when he understands eventually, he questions, “It was a course I took for some extra credits. You remember?”
A month ago, you would’ve felt heat creep upon your face, temporary shyness rendering you speechless - but now, you want him to know everything you need him to know. “I remember, because that’s where I saw you for the first time.”
You still recall the painting as if you saw it just yesterday. The boy had this gloomy, menacing expression on his obviously young features, and yet, the linen held various, beautiful colours; yellow… red… blue, green and purple. You were stunned in more than one way - because somehow, it looked like Jungkook had painted his inner life onto the canvas and no one had realised but you.
Shifting impossibly closer, you let your warmed hand wander under his jacket and shift until it brushes over his defined abs lightly. He reacts almost instantly, his hand squeezing your waist and his lips kissing your temple and hair gently as he teases, “So. You had a crush on me but… never talked to me, huh?”
Your fingers trace the lines of his muscles up and down, and you feel his body squirm just slightly before you admit, “You looked too intimidating. Was scared you’d ignore me and walk away.”
“Ah.” The vocal comes out as a whisper; you smirk proudly. “So you waited until you needed someone to paint your walls.”
His free hand trails your arm, shoulder and jaw until it lands on your cheek for only a moment. Then, it continues its journey to your neck and further down until it stops right over the spot where your clavicles hide underneath your clothes. He hesitates. 
“Yeah.” You leave his skin to unzip your jacket a bit, leading his hand to your tits cautiously before you hear him breathe in sharply. “Bought an apartment just for this reason.”
He chuckles right before he hisses, allowing you to lead his hand and let his fingers trace your body further until they reach down your purple dress and the hem of your stockings. His voice is a gentle and loving murmur, intoxicated and distracted when he asks, “Is that what you want?”
“I want to know what you painted your project with.” He smirks at you as he recognises your wit, both of your breathing stagnating when he teases you by pulling at your stockings lightly.
Then, he answers, “Acrylic colours.” His touch roams under the fabric, all the way down to your bareness. “Used a black marker for the contour.” Finger pads ghost over your clit, and he hisses yet again when your hand finds its way back to his body, palming his twitching cock over his clothes. “Some felt-tip… pens, too. Y/N…”
His lips graze your cheeks softly, and you lose half your mind when he repeats into your ear longingly, “Is that what you want?”
He, too, is a tempter - a force of Heaven seeking sins that manifest in the shape and form of you. With the way you look up at him, he can’t help but venture into the world of darkness and tempting dreams, even if his presence is one of a once powerful angel.
A quiet moan escapes you when he rubs your clit with his somewhat cold middle finger lightly; and before you lose your sanity, you manage, “I want you. Want you all the time.” There’s no other way you can summon right now to indicate the yearning you’ve felt towards him for so long - but he must’ve understood.
Because in the next moment, you feel his nails dig into your waist the same second he lets half of his digit slide into you; it’s the most he can do in this position. You know - but it still drives you crazy.
“Want you, too. So bad,” he admits, moaning with you when you rub him over his jeans in return.
He leans down to kiss your lips in a dizzying fever, tongues soon dancing and his mouth devouring your mewls as you lift your hips and squirm in his grip. His finger moves in and out of you for a timespan way too short; and suddenly, he lets go, pushing your hand away gently before he stands and pulls you with him.
“Time to go,” he says, folding the blankets before your fingers intertwine and he leads you back to the cabin in a clear hurry. Halfway through, however, his patience seems to run thin, and he presses you against the nearest tree, drawing a gasp out of you before he kisses your lips and neck heatedly.
The bulge feels prominent against your stomach; but before you can act on it, he breaks apart from you for one last time before reaching the cabin and your awaiting bedroom, jackets falling to the floor haphazardly. He lights the chimney anew and washes his hands before he joins the same space as you, his face golden from the melanin and the fire.
Your heart thumps excruciatingly hard when his knees hit the mattress and he starts crawling closer, his dark and seductive eyes trying to decipher what you’re thinking about.
You fall back gently as he hovers above you, his voice whispering a small, “Hi, lovely girl”, before he kisses you for the umpteenth time today. You let your palms roam his body, the firm muscles of his shoulder and back putting your head in a frenzy before you slide your hands under his jeans and underwear. 
Nails dig into his ass and pull him closer to you; and as the room warms up slowly, he begins to push up your dress till half your torso is bare for him to ghost his lips over. The tickle of his breath and circling of the tip of his tongue bring new revelations to you - never have you ever thought before that a sweet, slight touch like this could affect you in the way it does right in this moment.
He stretches his arm towards you, his hand palming your tit and massaging it delicately, the soft flesh of your mounds setting several wires in his head loose. Before you can think twice, he gives in to his delirious madness. Lifts your hips and rids you of the annoying stockings and panties in one swift slide, pride settling in his chest at the glistening of your pussy.
As his lips work their way down your body and halt in front of your sex, you finally shiver; not because of the cold that the winter brings, but because of his hot breaths that blow against your wetness torturously. He brings a finger to your longing hole, the other arm pinning your thigh against the mattress as he whispers, “Pretty. Dripping. So needy already, aren’t you?”
The words are supposed to be lewd - but with the fond way he utters them, they sound gentle and sweet, your insides exploding further and your hand burying in his hair. You’re distracted by the attempt of coming up with a fitting answer, but when he dips his tongue between your folds without a warning, you mutter hushed, involuntary curses instead.
He drags his wet muscle along your slit and stops at your clit, rounding the tip of his tongue around the bundle of nerves mind-numbingly while your grip around his hair tightens. Tantalizingly, he repeats the action when he moves his face down to your entrance again, drawing circles around it and licking up your juices in between wet, echoing kisses.
“Should’ve started this… long ago,” you breathe as he makes out with your cunt, his nose nuzzling your aching bud as the coil in your stomach tightens. “Yes, yes, keep doing just that. Just like that, please, Kook-”
You sound like a dream he doesn’t want to end; you look like temptation personified - so gorgeous, so sinful. Jungkook groans into your pussy as his hair grazes your skin, slick dripping down his lips and jaw before he pulls at your folds, gulps and asks, “Do you want to come on my tongue, fingers or cock?”
Everything. You want all of him all over you, want to keep feeling him until your body is exhausted and limp, begging to pass out and let it rest. But if you have to choose right now, you will not hesitate to voice what you’ve been longing for all these days and weeks.
“Your… cock… please,” you beg, and as you watch him lift his body in slow motion and smile down at you, you’re certain your mind will shut down if he keeps looking at you like that.
The missed orgasm makes your pussy ache for more, your hands pulling off your bra that remains the last provoking piece of clothing covering your skin before you fondle with your tits under his gaze. He licks his lower lip before capturing it between his teeth, fingers undoing his jeans and pulling off his shirt hastily. Leaving his whole body bare until he kneels over you with his cock standing proud and greedy.
Jungkook is always careful and thoughtful when it comes to you - when he feels you hinging on your last breath, he removes himself from you, much to your misery. Or when he thinks your body aches too hard to sit through a full-length movie, he carries you to your bed, telling you that you never need to endure anything for him.
He takes care of you in a way you never could, neglecting your health one too many times just to live through the adventure you call life. And in that sense, you’ve never even gotten the chance to see him naked as you are now, his scolding always revolving around resting first before you can take it a step further.
Now, not even he dares to hold himself back - you’re too pretty and your lungs are friendly enough today to grant you what you both desire so profoundly. And while you’re thankful for his constant care, you want to curse at him for hiding himself from you for so long. 
Because the sight of him is an artwork too good to miss. The tip of his member is an angry red, yearning to fill your walls to the brim and his waist slim, giving his body a well-built, insanely attractive figure that you want to kiss and drag your tongue over without a spot left untouched.
The delicious flexing of his muscles and the clench of his jaw make your hands curl into a tight fist. Your nails dig into your palm as you try to cope with what you’re looking at. He stares back at you in the same way that your eyes are looking up at him, and with a grin on his face, he asks, “What is it?”
You close your parted lips as you notice yourself ogling at him like an idiot, and then you shake your head, smiling as you answer, “Just still can’t believe this is real, is all.”
And then he leans down, draws a wet line along your jaw with his skilled tongue. “If I fucked you right now,” he starts, his fingers holding up your face and his nose brushing your neck. “Deep and slow, so you can feel every inch of me…” Goosebumps cover your skin and he notices; adores it, your body reacting only to him. “Would you believe me then?”
If he held you like this and teased your body sensually the whole night, you wouldn’t complain. You would drop to your knees, say thank you, and ask to suck him dry, if he just says so once. Your arousal pools between your thighs as he breathes, hums and moves against your neck, clavicles and shoulders, setting your whole being on fire.
“Hm? Talk, baby,” he whispers lovingly, pressing his thumb into your cheek slightly before he lets your face go and brings his fingers to your clit again.
With a shuddering moan, you throw your head back, the grazing touch alone so effective that you need to force your mouth to speak. And with every ounce of energy you gather, you let him know, “Legs already open wide for you… help me believe, Jungkook…”
“My pleasure.” You don’t even hear the dull thump that his and your clothes cause when his arms get them out of your way and they fall to the floor - but you surely do not miss it when he lets out a laugh before whispering under his breath, “You’re so pretty, I could just… look at you forever.”
Your heart soars and tingles at his praise, the tone of his voice so genuine and saccharine that your need to catch your breath comes back in a rush, albeit for only a small second. You reach down between your bodies slowly, almost as if waiting for permission. And when he watches you closely, eager to have your touch on him, you wrap your fingers around his thick, hard length without ever losing eye contact.
A drag of your hand along his shaft makes his breath hitch, and when you feel his balls tighten, he grabs your wrist and pushes your arm away. His body cages you in your entirety, wrapping you both in the warm blanket and lifting his torso by just an inch to not crush you underneath him.
“You’re going to be the end of me, Y/N,” he says, his gaze fixed on your parted lips as he leads his cock to your soaked pussy carefully. You let out a small hiss through your teeth when he rubs his tip between your folds for a little too long, always letting you think he will slide in but never actually proceeding.
One of his muscular arms wraps around your body, making you arch your back from the bed when he finally does give you the satisfaction you seek so profoundly. Your walls engulf his cock hotly when he sheathes himself inside you slowly, closing his eyes and taking in the feeling of you as he bottoms out.
“End of me,” he repeats, and you respond with a breathy moan, your lungs aching slightly but not enough to stop just yet. He places little kisses along your cheekbone as he pulls out up to the head of his cock and pushes in again, asking, “Are you okay?”
You nod yes frantically as your arms snake around him and your fingers find the hair on the nape of his neck. You keen when he starts moving, his fucked out, deep sounds leaving you to drown - chained up in the depths of the ocean.
Your consciousness only returns once and for a second when your fingers skim long and healed scars on each of his shoulder blades. You’ve noticed them a few times; before when you messed around, but after the last bad experience you had with prying on his private life, you never questioned the wounds when a heated make-out session ended and you calmed down again.
And even now, you push it away for the time being. There’s no other option anyway when he grabs your wrists and pins them against the pillow over your head, burying his face in your neck before his tongue lashes out and lips suckle at your sensitive flesh.
Jungkook likes that - toying with your sanity as he leaves small imprints of his teeth on your neck; and you’re never one to complain either. Especially not now when the pleasure of his cock dragging in and out deeply and slowly as he promised fits his love for marking so damn well.
He looks up at you when his movements become harsher and bolder by the second. His hips snap against yours as you feel him penetrate every sensitive spot of your cunt. You wrap your legs around him tighter, a long and erotic sound filling the air as you feel small beads of sweat form on your forehead.
“Tell me if you need a pause,” he whispers, kissing your temple, your nose, your lips, “or anything, anything at all, ever.” You brush his hair back and place your hand on his cheek, his ministrations continuing so smoothly, wet and covered in your slick as you stare at him with sparkling eyes.
The glint in your gaze hurts him. It’s utterly innocent despite anything he’s doing to you right now; despite any sound that’s toppling off your tongue at right this moment. So pure and demure; soft, loving, unconditionally giving. 
God, loving you hurts - and God, he wants to keep doing it forever.
And so he does. Tells you about the longing he feels for you; fucks you gently, pace varying, bodies touching and slowly burning up - turning to ashes. You feel the affection when you come and he follows, hips stuttering until they still. And he kisses your face all over, sweet little pecks from one cheek to the other, on your chin, mouth, under your ears and on your forehead.
He studies your expression, sees a whole poem written in them that always revolves around your yearning for him; never more, never less. He always knew the words and the endearment you felt for him were there; but now that he’s admitted to himself that he doesn’t feel any less, the meaning has changed and twisted entirely.
“Your eyes,” he mumbles in a calm but feeble voice, his soft lips brushing yours faintly. He’s still a seeker, though one who isn’t looking for answers in the sky and stars anymore but in what lies beneath them. In his arms and in his heart. “You’re perfect.”
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You don’t know whether thirty minutes or hours have passed when your hands rake over the beautiful expanse of his skin as he lies next to you on his stomach, arm draped over your chest.
His breathing is calm, and if his lips didn’t press occasional, loving pecks onto your shoulder, you’d think he’s fallen asleep. But differing from his relaxed demeanor, your mind whirs, questions floating around anew when your fingertips reach the long lines of scar tissues marring his perfect skin. 
“What are these scars?" you ask him, not certain if he’s ready to lay his secrets open to you - but you try anyway. "What happened, Jungkook?"
Somehow, they feel old and new at the same time - like he ripped them open and let them heal and close, over and over again. You interrupt his steady breathing, his arm twitching before it loosens around you while you fixate your eyes on the ceiling. He shifts a little on the bed, shaking his head slightly when he answers, “It’s nothing.”
You know he’s lying - and you tell him. It’s a conversation Jungkook expected and dreaded; with the way you halt for a moment every single time when you reach the spot, he knew you’d bring it up one day or another.
But despite remnants of fear still lingering in his heart, your vigilant, quiet voice puts him at ease. With everything you’ve experienced and endured together, Jungkook feels pieces and chunks inside him melt; like there’s a part of him that you’re understanding enough to accept. Somehow, he reckons that not telling you might backfire worse than handing you the truth.
He sits up, pulling you with him before he begins kissing the knuckles of your hand gently. With fear in his eyes, he looks at you with a dropping expression, his infinitely sad voice breaking your heart as he warns, “You might run away.”
But the moment the words leave his lips, you shake your head, palming his warm face tenderly, and promise, “I could never run away from you. I love you… and I know you know.”
He smiles at you but it never truly reaches his eyes; and then, he gathers his courage, taking a deep breath before he starts, “There are… things in this world that are realer than you might expect.” And then, you see a shadow grow behind him - it makes you widen your eyes, but strangely, doesn’t make you fear him anyhow.
“Things that are so much bigger than mortality,” he continues, something sprouting that you’ve never seen but seem to recognise. “And you might not fathom them just yet, Y/N.”
They are broken. Dark, torn wings, small but still somehow as pretty as the face that’s falling deeper into your palm. He holds onto your wrist, lets you take in his appearance - so fragile and increasingly expecting for you to desert him as you meet him with silence. And then, he tells you, “Angels exist, Y/N. Heaven, Hell, all of that - it’s there. Like… a whole other world that exists so far away from here. Guardian angels, archangels… And I became a fallen one a long time ago.”
The subtle surprise in your face comes expected - but the smile that you flash at him does not. You take a deep, relieved breath - almost as if you were expecting something worse; something that would have made you leave. Instead, you lift his face, looking into his pained eyes that hold so many aching memories and unspoken questions before you ask, “These scars. Do you have them in Heaven, too?”
Or are they just signs of failure and misery, indicating and reminding him that his wings are burned and ripped?
Jungkook scoffs, his gaze fixed firmly on yours to avoid the sight of the dying feathers that build his wings… somehow. Shaking his head slightly, he tells you, “No. At least I… think I didn’t have them there. I guess they’re supposed to be a souvenir… showcasing my miserable existence as a creature of the light.”
“There’s not one ounce of misery I see in you. And I don’t know about your mistake up there,” you tell him, kissing the apple of his cheek gently before admitting, “but it still makes sense. You being an angel. That’s why you always appeared like one.”
He blinks at you. Barely believes that your reaction is real and genuine - that you see him and still take him the way he is; for who and what he is. And when emotions start boiling hotter inside him than ever, he reads the love written in your gaze clearly.
“I wish there were bigger words to tell you than just... I love you.”
No matter what his reluctant brain used to try to force onto him, he understands now that the understated four-letter-word is exactly what you awaken in him; further and further, harder and harder; the more you talk, the stronger you love and the longer you breathe.
Anything that still tries to tell him otherwise defeats the sense of logic heavily.
You see it in his expression without him needing to utter a single word; the dark pupils shake and melt, his head tilted and lips parted, sighing while his fingers settle at the nape of your neck. And when you lean forward, kissing him, holding onto his bicep tightly, everything around him starts spinning and his body floating.
But then, the world keeps spinning. A little too much. Weirdly hard.
When he moves away and his touch vanishes suddenly, you think he’s trying to catch his breath - the nerve-wrecking confession along with the observation of your reaction must be a lot. That’s what you think; only, that’s not exactly what’s happening.
Because then, his face sinks, his eyebrows furrow and hands press against his temples as he manages to mumble, “What the fuck is…”
Alarms sound loudly in your mind, your body reacting reflexively when you grab his shoulders and try to make him look at you. You shake him lightly but desperately without any success. You call out his name, watch him curl into himself and into your lap before-
“Don’t call anyone,” he pants, voice so deafening that your heartbeat accelerates in fear. Nothing he told you before scared you as much as his sudden breakdown does, and you don’t know what to do, how to help, how to stop whatever pain he is suffering all of a sudden. And again, he begs, “Don’t do anything… I’m sorry, I-”
He doesn’t know what to tell you, and certainly doesn’t understand what he’s apologising for. All he gathers is that some sort of revelation has drowned his consciousness enough to overwhelm him in the cruelly excruciating way of shutting down his body and mind. Something’s happening to him that not even he could foresee; but the sickening feeling in his guts tells him that he will find out soon enough.
Jungkook hears his name in your voice dozens of times more, every syllable you utter becoming more faint as moments pass by - until everything stills.
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It feels like the final dream.
Like things are about to unveil and bring full closure. Pictures of a distant yesterday rush by in a flash, and Jungkook can nearly decipher one for what it is until the wind ebbs down and he starts seeing faces and hearing voices somewhere near him.
Suddenly, he finds himself in an unlit room that he begins to remember every detail of. It’s silent apart from the broken sobs, two voices mixing that he soon recognises as his own and… Ari’s. It’s the last night he talked to her; the very last time he saw her.
“Please hold on...” his past self begs, unaware of his own presence that is watching him while his heart threatens to explode. Jungkook steps closer to where he and Ari sit in the middle of her bed, her tears drenching his shirt and body rocking back and forth in the pain that her incurable illness inflicts on her.
“Just a bit more,” he hears his voice continue, but Ari shakes her head, lifting it as she meets the pained expressions of her lover.
Jungkook still knows how her courage and ability to endure had dropped oceans deep near the end. And when he realises the scenes that follow this memory, he wishes he could wake up somehow - fall back into your arms the way he did minutes ago. Instead, everything continues, and everything stings with a creeping intensity when she exclaims through her tears, “Can you make it end?” Her breathing is erratic, heavy. “Stop all this… please, please.”
“No!” he yells, her flinching calming his voice as he rubs her back soothingly and repeats, “Fuck, why are you aski-”
“Because I can’t do it anymore,” Ari interrupts, her eyes glassy, mind spinning, “I can’t wait... for death anymore, Jung-”
His name morphs into another gut-wrenching sob as her lungs burn up and her body stings, the pain heavy in her head, limbs and heart. More pleas explode from her chest, and she tries to concentrate on her breathing and to power through the torture - but when she can’t, she curls up into herself, digging her nails into Jungkook’s arm painfully.
Her eyes meet his again with agony written all over her features and touches, and when the sight becomes too much and his chest implodes, he gives in at last. He didn’t expect for love to hurt in a devastating way like this; never thought he’d become the luckiest man with her by his side before stepping into a waterfall of misfortune.
His dream self watches like a prisoner trapped in his own mind, tears running down his face and onto the floor as he sees himself place his palm on her forehead and draw a deep inhale. A faint glow under his hand lights up the space between them, and as moments pass, her breathing becomes steady, her sobs quieter. With a gulp and tired eyes that droop slowly, she tells him with melancholy gripping her fragile heart, “I love you, Kook.”
“Fuck,” he cries, his body shuddering as he feels her limbs grow weaker around him. He doesn’t care about curses spoken by his angel self; doesn’t think about what fellow beings of his species might think. Everything he cares about is being stripped of him anyway. “I love you, Ari… fuck, why-”
And in the next moment, she’s gone.
As her organs still completely and her muscles begin to freeze, he holds her tightly against his chest, continuing the constant rocking that her body did before. His arms around her leave her in a relentless grip, and before the dreaming and remembering Jungkook can reach out to his grieving, younger version, the scene changes.
This time, the room and faces don’t manifest in front of his eyes; instead, he sees a blinding light, merely silhouettes of murky figures visible in the shadows that he’s sure belong to members of the council. They’re whispering something, their words resembling hisses that sound different than any language he’s ever heard.
And yet, he understands everything.
“The highest archangels of the council conclude that your punishment will be to live a mortal life. That is, until you find the resolution to your pain - the key is to let life run its course this time and suffer through agony until you learn your lesson and rejoin Heaven again.”
The woman’s voice is silvery and soft, so pleasant that one might almost not reckon that she’s banning him to a damned and cursed life for years and decades. Again, he hears the tone of his own numbness; the same he used when he met Alyanna in the garden right after exactly this trial was over.
“I begged you to help her,” he tells them, somewhere hidden in the light, invisible, “I begged you and you did nothing. Aren’t we supposed to be good and guard human lives and-”
“Jungkook,” a different presence of a man cuts in, his voice deep and words punctuated, “no matter how much good we’re ordered to do, meddling with a human life isn’t allowed. That includes curing and death, too. You need to find a balance between helping someone and letting the stream of life flow. I’m sorry.”
“Where is she?”
Jungkook’s present form sinks to his knees, eyes falling shut from the light that blinds him and burns itself into his eyelids. He now knows where Ari went - knows what happened and why she never ascended the way she should’ve.
“Not here,” the woman explains, “she’ll be reincarnated to help you find your path. We’re making this easy for you. You ought to do nothing more but find love and eternal peace. Trust me when I say that it could’ve been worse…”
“I don’t care.” The numbness seems to give way to something else - something more grim, his sombre voice so careless, so brave now. Jungkook thinks this is where his doubts towards love began first. “Do whatever you want to me. I don’t care anymore.” A faint echo follows his words, a cold wind playing with Jungkook’s hair before he opens his eyes again.
And with that, the memory ends. The world and his sight turn dark, but he doesn’t wake up just yet, his human brain too weak, too overwhelmed with the amount of information that flooded his mind with a painful intensity.
The answer never seemed as clear as it does now. And as he realises that he’s experiencing the preplanned agony they doomed upon him decades ago in the form of you, his mind begins rummaging through various ways of letting your soul go yet again.
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When the morning light surpasses the skin of Jungkook’s eyelids and pulls him out of unconsciousness, his gaze meets your swollen face first.
You're not crying, but you certainly did before; your eyes are rimmed red and your hair disheveled. You brush your fingers through his hair carefully as his eyes adjust to his surroundings and realise that he’s still where he was before. Somehow, you must’ve managed to extend your stay by a day without calling the ambulance or anyone for help.
“Jungkook,” your shaky voice calls, and he opens his mouth to answer. No tone escapes, his throat dry. “Say something, Kook.”
“Y/N…” he croaks, and when the word comes out as hoarsely as he expected, he silences again. You nod in understanding, new, silent tears spilling before you sniffle.
“God, that scared me… so fucking much,” you admit, shifting closer on the bed and letting his arms engulf you in his warmth, “I was so-” You hiccup. “-close to dialing 911. You weren’t moving. Or waking up…”
But he was breathing - the only argument that let you stay strong and avoid acting against his wishes. The steady rhythm of his heartbeat feels different now than from when you placed your head against his chest, waiting for him to open his eyes as you prayed that he was okay wherever his mind had journeyed.
“I was gone the whole night?” he asks, blinking as he stares at a spot in the corner of the room.
You shake your head, intertwining your fingers with his when you reveal, “The whole night. Then the whole day… and then another night. I was…”
Sick with worry. Devastated and killing time by brewing tea or cooking soup, sustaining your body because you had to. You tilt your head in concern, asking him cautiously, “What happened?”
You’re not stupid - you know that anything that happened to him wasn’t just a case of falling unconscious without any proper reason. And with the filter he abandoned right before the final dream began, he looks at you in desperation, gripping you in his hold desperately before he starts from the beginning and retells everything he saw in detail.
Hearing Ari’s name and her story ignites something ugly in you; something that’s too out of place right now. But stronger than that, you feel empathy and sadness, everything enhancing when he ends his life story with a small, scared, “Maybe you should let me go… walk away.”
“Why would I let you go? You said yourself that you never could… what makes you think I can?” you inquire, squeezing his hand in yours and remembering a similar conversation not long ago. “I told you I’m not running away. Not from you.”
“I hurt you.”
“Life hurts me. Not you,” you tell him, dismissing his comment before you query, “Do you want to leave?”
His reluctance falters and lets uncertainty and defeat seep through instead, his head shaking no but his words indicating otherwise. “I don’t. But maybe I should walk away before we do something stupid.”
Something stupid… like giving in. Letting pain advance. Growing fond of each other enough to let the end of you both shatter you. You’re being entirely stupid - lovesick fools ready to face ultimate and inevitable torment.
You let his hand go and take his face in your palms, pressing into the soft cheeks before you say, “If you don’t want to, you shouldn’t have to. And…” You lean in to press a devoted, transient kiss against his slightly quivering lips.
As your thumb traces his cheekbone, you back away with a soft smile, asking quietly, “That didn’t feel stupid, did it? Doesn’t it make you believe it’s just…” You blink, observing the light drench him in angelic hues. “...right?”
Every fiber in his body hurts - and the whole, wide world seems stupid. But not you; not his dream, his fairy tale, his past and his present, and the reason for his existence on this measly Earth. For however long, he will love you - without any doubt, unconditionally.
Life seemed to end once. But with you, it’s starting again with a small, silent murmur; his inhibitions fall with a duller thud than his body did after his mortal rebirth. In the small room and the comfort of your presence, he tilts his head, telling you in a hushed whisper, “You make me begin… to believe.”
In you; in love; maybe even in hope.
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When days pass and change, so do you.
Your shifting in the bed wakes him before your whine does. Fingers curled, your sounds pick up on volume, eyebrows furrowing as you open your mouth to take steady breaths desperately.
That’s the exact reason why Jungkook never leaves you alone anymore, despite your reassurances that you’ll be fine and thriving. The more time flies, the more he can see your health decline, the dark rings under your eyes the biggest indicator for sleepless nights and worsening pain.
It’s the middle of the night when his eyes shoot open and he grabs the inhaler where it lays on the bedside table, pushing it into your mouth while cradling the back of your head gently. You look bad. So much worse than when he met you, your fingers trembling and head dropping.
“It’s okay,” he whispers, an arm draped over your shoulder as you take deep, saving breaths. “Do you want me to call the ambulance?”
You shake your head violently - you’re so sick of the constant doctor’s appointments; so sick of them reminding you over and over again that you’re dying. It’s nothing new to you. But the fact that it affects Jungkook just as worse, his expression always falling and conversations stopping after accompanying you, leaves you in a constant state of bitterness.
He’s trying his best - he honestly is. Rent has lost meaning to him as he spends the majority of his time with you, at your apartment. He only ever runs back to his place to bring new clothes, and even that at neck-breaking speed.
“Did you take your meds, baby?” he asks, his free hand smoothing your hair as he watches you nod idly. “It’s fine. I’m here. Okay?”
Again, you nod, focusing on letting air in your lungs until enough time has passed and they have filled with the needed oxygen, though still burning and aching in your chest. With a tired heart and mind, you lean into him, his fingers pulling the blanket over both of you some more when he hears you scoff.
Irritated and without your usual enthusiasm, you say, “I can’t even kiss you anymore without nearly fainting.”
He looks down at you with worry, torment and affection, his face coming closer before he gives you a soft, fleeting kiss. “You can. It worked, see?”
You flash a half-smile, so utterly drained, yet so scared of falling asleep again. And when your body starts yearning for any kind of distraction, you say, “Can I ask you something?”
“Did you ever… get to be intimate with Ari much?”
The question catches him off guard in a way that makes his body flinch; her name in your sweet voice sounds wrong, unfamiliar. In some way, he realises that you’re talking about yourself - but of course, you will never identify with your past self or see her as a distant part of yourself, no matter how hard you try.
With a confused crease between his eyebrows, he asks, “Why are you thinking of this right now?”
“I’ve just… wanted to know for a while.” But that’s not it entirely. In truth, you want to feel any other kind of pain that doesn’t indicate the end. You want to dwell in human emotions, no matter how good or bad they are - you want to know what normal people deal with in their daily lives.
And on the other hand, you need to confirm or reject your thoughts that keep whispering in the back of your mind that you might never reach the level she was at. He had more time with her - knew her better, loved her longer.
“I can make you feel good instead,” Jungkook mutters, kissing your hair, “tell you about something else.”
But you refuse. Wish to feel anything resembling jealousy or possessiveness before you can’t feel anything anymore. You shake your head, tell him you would like to hear it if he’s ready to tell you. “I understand if you say no.”
Jungkook falls silent for a moment, nibbling at his lips as he thinks back to days reluctantly that feel like they belong to a different life - and in some way, they definitely do. “Yeah,” he begins, his voice soothing and careful, “she and I were intimate.”
“Like we are? Like we were.”
“You loved… love her a lot, right?” you ask. Jungkook’s insides turn a little as he hears the pain in your voice. He knows loving you is hard - but he can imagine that reciprocating the same feeling for him must be horribly tough as well.
He places his chin on your head, and you feel him nod slowly. You sense the sting in your chest the same moment he does, so prominent and so different from what your illness tortures you with daily.
In some way, you feel like he’ll never feel the same type of love for you that he felt for her. Because she was never a toxic ex, never parted from him in a hostile way; she was the girl of his dreams - his intended always and forever.
With a brief pause, Jungkook continues, “We were engaged.” A little something crushes inside your heart when he whispers the words, and you bite your lower lip tightly. “We knew well it would never work out. But I wanted her like that before she died. I thought I might experience at least some of this side of life with her. But I didn’t.”
When he looks at you, he sees your fallen face - sees the ache that his words cause inside you. The fog of jealousy that clouds your eyes is clear as day; your chest deflates and your grip around him loosens a little - he wants nothing more but to make you feel better, no matter how.
With a gentle touch, he brushes your hair away and tucks it behind your ear before wiping the light sweat from your forehead that your earlier distress caused.
“Y/N,” he whispers, kissing the tip of your nose before he backs away and adds, “you’re my past and my present. Things were intense with her, but you’re still you. I don’t love you any less.”
Your gaze turns glassy and sugary sweet, and when you whisper your next words timidly, he can’t help but laugh lightly, “Promise?”
“I promise you… I can assure you that you’re enough, Y/N.” His head falls against your shoulder, lips moving to your neck and placing a soft, tickling peck on your skin. “Gonna love you until time stops.”
You sigh in content before you hug him closer again, fingers burying in his hair as you giggle, “Jealousy is… nasty.”
The chuckling that vibrates against your neck echoes in your head like a song, his mouth kissing your bleeding heart some more before he asks, “How do you feel?”
You think about your answer for a moment, digging deep and figuring out the vast mass of emotions whirling inside you. And then, you smile gently, eyelids falling close slowly as you tell him, “Alive.”
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Hearing you say that you feel alive becomes the most important part of the day for Jungkook until it stops. You feel alive until you don’t.
You leave his world with him standing and breathing three months later. The universe doesn’t crash with a thump, but a silent whimper. The warning signs were always there; worse in the last weeks, preparing him to let go slowly and not allow pain to befall him in a sudden motion.
And yet, his heart stings inherently, nearly as if someone’s turning a knife over and over again - letting him experience your last moment over and over again. You don’t get to tell him you love him for one last time; can’t give him a goodbye kiss and let him know that it’s okay, that everything is okay and that things will fall into place again - with or without you.
The picture of him coming back from buying tulips repeats in his mind until he’s spiraling; he still remembers the flowers falling before he sprinted to your room, non-responsive to his calls and questions. He wants to stop thinking about your stilled breathing and the trip to the hospital - the one that did nothing but crushed his heart further, making clear that you were gone and not coming back.
That’s how a human body works. People live and die, leaving loved ones in sorrow and falling; falling harder than with the light that Jungkook still remembers. There’s nothing that the most skilled doctor or magician can do about the motions of life - and with that knowledge in mind, Jungkook knows you’re gone, inevitably out of his reach.
How long does it take for a mortal heart to forget and continue? To let moments pass, wake up in peace, smile at things again without them looking dull, grey, faded?
Days ends and nights start for Jungkook in a blur as he feels the universe expand and Earth spin without you. He attends your funeral in a haze that fogs his brain. Barely remembering the whole morning and afternoon, Jungkook returns to his apartment, drenching his suit in tears before he falls asleep again.
That’s the routine he gets used to way too soon. Even his closet ends up empty when it stops inhabiting clothes... shirts and sweaters that aren’t filled with the liquid that makes his body run dry and dehydrated. And with the paralysis Jungkook feels, every tableware and piece of clothing starts piling up and gathering dust.
It’s a miserable life - he knows. But there’s no point in caring, if he can’t share his accomplishments with you.
Your parents recognise him the day he lays flowers on your grave one March morning, arriving just minutes later as he waters the muddy earth over your coffin with his sobs along with the rain. Your mother places a hand on his shoulders, watching his eyes look back in sorrow and surprise, his waterline red and swollen.
He remembers their faces from the funeral; still sees the pictures flash in front of him of them collapsing in front of your tombstone and asking every power above why you disappeared this fast. And even Jungkook wants to know, because you-
“It will be okay,” your father tells him, his own eyes watering and lips quivering as he stares at your name and words written beneath it. “We’ll see her one day again. And life will go on.”
Jungkook wants to know, because…
“She told us about you. You’re as handsome as she said, no exaggeration here.” Your parents smile at him in the same tender way you always used to: with a twinkle in your pupils and a tilt of your head.
Jungkook wants to know why you disappeared this fast, because you promised.
“Y/N, she…” he starts, wiping his cheeks and clearing his throat, “she promised she wouldn’t run away from me. It’s a bit unfair.”
A bit is an understatement if he’s ever uttered one. A bit can’t ever come close to the disappointment he feels towards life and hope. He feels dizzy again when he walks away and turns only once to see your father’s arm draped around his wife’s shoulders, her head leaning against his chest the way yours would against Jungkook’s when you watched movies or sang songs together.
The last months were hard - a constant reminder that you were getting worse and your apartment becoming emptier. Your heart became colder and weaker the way the season did; you seemed to fade with the sun and the light. Even though Jungkook tried to give you every single thing you had desired, nothing seems enough now as he steps into your flat with idle moves.
The little glass ornament of the butterfly he gifted you on New Year’s Eve still sits on top of the shoe shelf and under the whiteboard. He told you it reminded him of you - so free and beautiful and easy on the eye and soul.
Soon, someone else will be the owner of your apartment; soon, the laughs and giggles and tears you both shared will be replaced by new wall colours and new decoration. The furniture, shelves and kitchen you acquired will stay as a kind of memory, but everything else will vanish in a moment’s notice.
Jungkook wraps his fingers around the butterfly, remembering how even this place was something you went for to do one last, big thing for yourself before you left. He smiles endearingly, brings the glass close to his face and says, “You’re crazy, Y/N.”
With a shake of his head, he buries the ornament in the pocket of his jacket, the love he houses for you exploding and imploding when he feels your weight in his coat. “I’m sorry I couldn’t help you be crazy a little longer.” He smacks his lips, chuckling a little before he adds, “Lucky for me, you forgive pretty easily.”
Sighing, he grabs the purple marker - you seemingly bought the colour because he loves it so much - and scribbles a small sentence into the middle of the by now filled board.
I wish there were bigger words to tell you than ‘I love you’.
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It doesn’t take long after your funeral till Jungkook feels a push and pull in his sleep. First, surprise washes over him - you’re gone and the story is over, his memory regained and no dream left that he can still live through.
But when his eyes shoot open and they meet a blinding light, he protects his view with his arm, distant voices coming closer until a bright hallway forms in front of his body. Fluorescence fills the room, and he starts to remember the place steadily, his legs moving on their own accord, carrying him to the room where the noise is coming from.
He places a hand over his beating heart, his palm meeting a soft, silky fabric that certainly wasn’t there when he went to bed with his torso bare. In some sense, he can imagine what’s about to happen, and he wonders what will happen to his plants, his books, his whole existence in the human world where no one might miss him anyway.
His hand, still covered in various tattoos and shimmering in the white glow, pushes the handle of the heavy door down cautiously. He steps into a large room with loud and excited voices bustling, the chaos silencing only when he reaches the middle and stands still, looking around with wide eyes.
Jungkook knows that they are here for him; sees in the way the infamous council eyes him that he’s here for something way bigger than a random visit. On instinct, he walks to the chair placed right in front of the council’s long table, reminding him of the Last Supper that’s awaiting a verdict for the traitor.
Someone in the back of the room coughs - seemingly, most of the noise reaching him in the hallway came from a conversing audience who’s smiling at him like hyenas. He doesn’t know that they’ve been waiting for this moment for days; while Jungkook deems himself a waste of space, various new angels have been anticipating his return eagerly.
Jungkook, the once diligent angel who captured everyone’s minds and hearts in a flash; that one angel who betrayed Heaven by giving in to that one rule that towered every sin in importance. Not even intimacy and temptation that he felt himself lose a war against are regarded as highly inappropriate as meddling with human beings’ lives.
“I’m here,” he whispers - but the echo still carries his voice throughout the room and rings clearly in the ears of everyone present. “I’m back.”
“Jungkook,” the voice of the same woman greets, the one who’d talked him through his punishment in another life, right at this spot. Her name is Ash - he remembers her since he dreamed of her, back when you were still by his side. “You were an angel of the third section, right?”
Right. There were sections. Assigned to fulfill various tasks, ranging from guarding a mortal to keeping the balance between good and bad. He used to be Ari’s guardian before he lost his reputation and privileges in Heaven; in fact, his assignment was the sole reason he found himself in the situation at all.
Now, he’s grateful for acting the way he did - without it, he’d never have met you, never properly learned how to live and let live, die and let die.
“I was,” he confirms, ready to hear a rambling of a whole list that they must have undoubtedly prepared. At least the papers laying in front of their folded hands indicate this much, Ash’s eyes darting up and down from his face to the documents and back.
“What happened down there, Jungkook?”
He gulps, curses and arguments shooting into his head that he wants to blurt. But instead, he calms his soul and takes a deep breath, aware of the fact that she knows exactly what happened, but has to follow the schedule of this trial anyway.
“I… lived. And studied. I grew up in a foster home,” he begins, rattling down the basic happenings of his life in a monotone voice until he arrives at the moment when everything began shattering. “I met her. She-”
“She?” the man next to Ash - Namjoon? - questions. Jungkook’s heart feels too numb to let the unnecessary inquiry annoy him. He just wants to answer - just wants to leave this place.
“She… Y/N, she- I met her and helped her set up her place.” Jungkook’s head drops, eyes blinking and recounting events from half a year ago. “We became friends. And then I fell- I fell in love with her. She was sick.”
He tries hard to keep his words factual instead of spiraling into private emotions. But the thought of you, your voice, your smile and your touches sets his insides ablaze and his chest and throat constrict.
With a damp gaze, he looks up to Namjoon, his stern expression professional and void of empathy. Then, he continues. “She was sick and she died. I couldn’t help her. She saw my wings, too, you know? I had broken, dark wings. No one has them down there. It’s a big deal to differ and to… to be something else than human. She saw the wings and still loved me and then died and I couldn’t help, so tell me, what did I have them for?”
Your memories incinerate him from within; there’s no point of return anymore.
Tears start spilling yet again as the stupefaction gets replaced by the same searing ache he felt when you left, and his voice grows louder as he asks, “What are they here for? She just vanished like that, and she was so young. She didn’t deserve it, right? But even her parents will move on and I can’t - why?”
His sobs fill the room, resounding gut-wrenchingly, the audience now dead silent and listening to his outburst of feelings. If he could, if he wasn’t glued to the chair, he’d sink to his knees and beg to go back down, to experience one single day with you again. To just see you, kiss you one last time. 
Words die in his throat and he lets himself fall; fall into the abyss further and further until he feels empty and dry. You made him feel like he was enough; like he was something and more, like he deserved the endless love and fondness he received from you. Not even Heaven and wings and being here can bring back what you filled his vulnerable heart with.
And right now, he can’t take the loneliness that engulfs him in this room full of people anymore.
“I’m sorry, I just…” he manages through distorted speech, missing the smiles that Ash and her troup flash at him until he hears her call his name again.
“It does seem like you learned how life works,” she tells him, inhaling and exhaling deeply before his head shoots open and he furrows his eyebrows in irritation. “Do you remember what we told you back then?”
His uneven breathing calms when he hears her speak, the smile somehow hinting at something good and easing his mind in an instant. Maybe that’s a power angels hold; he doesn’t know anymore. He wonders if he had this power over you.
“Your punishment happened, because you played with life and death. Because you did something that disrupted not only our order, but brought chaos to Ari’s family and her surroundings as well.” Ash rises from her seat, rounding the table slowly until she stands right in front of him. “You might not realise this without any inside info, but a non-natural death will always result in a disturbance in balance. It was a genuine, well-meant mistake, but we had to take actions that were just as genuine and well-meant… Jungkook.”
He stares at her, the truth dawning on him and starting to make sense; and maybe, he would’ve understood already, if his mind wasn’t drowning in the agony and grief that has accompanied him for weeks now.
“And now that you’ve let Ari go and let her family follow a natural route of grieving and healing, you’ve been pulled back - just as promised.”
Jungkook doesn’t care much about anything she said that followed the first third of the sentence, too focused on the annoyance that brews in him eventually. “Her name was Y/N. Not Ari.”
“It still is. Y/N,” she tells him with a gentle smile, placing her hand with ringed fingers on his shoulder. “That’s still her name.” Her eyes dart to something behind him, her hair flying into her face by a wind that can’t possibly be caused by an actual breeze; not inside this windowless room. “And welcome back.”
His scars pain just a little before he sees something large and white sprout from his back; and with a glance to his right, he watches his torn wings turn into what they were before. Glowing, feathery, huge extensions of himself that bring back his status as a creature of the light after what feels like thousands and millions of years.
They feel lighter than a needle despite their sheer volume and size; and although his attention couldn’t shift further away from everything Ash is explaining about the next steps, something inside him sighs in relief. He doesn’t understand the sudden calmness falling over him, until he starts registering fragments of her speech.
“Step into your duties… third level angel… help out newly turned ones as well.”
He might have been created by mighty hands and never known anything but a life as a seemingly superior species before he fell… but human beings go through a different cycle of birth and death. They either ascend or descend; either live eternally blessed by the light or trapped in fire.
And you…
“Where is she?” his frightened voice suddenly interrupts, reckoning that every important information that he had to regain has been uttered anyway.
Time rewinds and history repeats as he finds himself mumbling the same words as before the thump when Heaven and Hell shook. And with a small sigh, Ash finally drops the formal talk and the forwarding of knowledge that Jungkook possesses anyway, stating instead, “She… settled in your home for the time you weren’t here. Now that you are, we’ll allow her to move away. Or you might tell her yourse-”
“No,” he cuts in again, his wings slowly waning, “I don’t want her to leave. Let me just- go see her… please.”
With an elegant movement and one hand over the other, Ash steps away and nods her head towards the door, finally giving him permission to leave the hall that he holds onto eagerly.
In the matter of bare seconds, he pulls the door open and rushes to the seemingly eternally distant entrance of the building. The stairs don’t stop and the light burns in his eyes too intensely; and in that sense, relief drowns him in waves when he lands outside under the warm, comforting sun.
The rays of the star soothe his cold, shivering skin pleasantly as his feet begin to run, and for a moment, he thinks back to the rain and snow that fell from the skies for months with no end down in your town. But now, the sun is shining. He wonders; thinks that maybe it’s you.
Alive in some way or another. In his proximity, closer than he thinks. Has he really grown used to days without you so much that he didn't consider an answer to an unasked question that laid right in front of his eyes?
With a push of his feet, his body lifts from the ground and shoots into the sky, the flight coming to him so naturally as though he's been floating forever. The clouds look artificial and different here than they did the last twenty-four years, but the genuine hope inside him makes up for any sadness that he feels at the lack of authentic nature surrounding him.
This world… Heaven… it's built to mimic the perfection that Earth's nature showcases in an improved and enhanced way - but he's ready to spend the rest of eternity here if it means to wake up to your beaming smile every day.
Jungkook's tears dry fast in the wind as he keeps whispering to himself that you're here and okay, that you'll soon fall into his arms and start healing by finally forgetting all the pain.
And soon, he arrives at what he remembers as his home - a humble, little house standing where buildings stop and the forest begins. Right where he began and right where he will begin again. 
Chirping birds and the fountain water flowing peacefully disrupt his train of thoughts for only a moment before he lands on his feet swiftly, softly. His garden seems unchanged as the same roses still bloom, showing their thorns prouder than ever. Even his house looks the same, standing tall and strong without a single crack or trace of weathering.
The sole, sweet alteration that builds a new addition to his place and to his future life is the form hunching over the fetching stare of the flowers. At the sound of his steps, he sees a head shoot up and the back straighten, the loving gaze and raised eyebrows meant for him taking his breath away excruciatingly.
You look healthier and more graceful than ever, thriving with or without company and empty of even a mere hint of physical torture. Up above the clouds, Jungkook looks different than from what you’re used to seeing, an ethereal and faint glitter surrounding his body as he approaches you slowly and utters your name quietly.
The tremble in his voice awakens a bittersweet feeling that no word can come close to; you want to call it adulation; want to call it fondness; want to call it nostalgia. His brightness makes you blink once, twice - you’re not sure if it’s him or his white, soft wings that blind you more.
“Jungkook,” you mouth, your heart skipping one or two beats as you move forward in small steps; you knew he’d arrive soon, and yet you can’t help but feel surprised in some strange way. Your cheek grows wet before you know it, and within the blink of an eye, you fall into him, your fingers digging in his arm and eyes staring into his, resembling your warmth and devotion.
He’s short of breath when he cradles your face and lets his pupils dart from your eyes to your nose and then to the soft curve of your quivering lips. Gradually, almost in slow motion, he locks his mouth with yours, swallowing your sobs and savouring your taste. It feels so new, feels so familiar… you have a hold on him that he has an eternity to figure out now.
He might be in Heaven - but it’s you who make the place a paradise.
And standing in the middle of it, you let him kiss you tenderly, nearly as if he’s never done it before. And when he backs away, your eyes tell him that you’ve waited for him; that you’ve craved him. With a deep, exhilarated and yet relieved inhale, he finds his voice again, small and scared, fearing that he might wake up to an empty bed again as he says, “I love you... I love you.”
“Stay with me,” you plead, every confession packed into these three words before Jungkook realises that this is it. This is the heavenly phrase he searched for all this time, something that towers over any affectionate and whispered I love you.
As he hears the birds sing a song, flowers refusing to wither and the sun smiling down at you, Jungkook wallows in the beauty of the scene and the serenity of the moment. But with you, he realises that it’s not the place or sun or the butterflies or nature whispering sweet promises to him, but you who quenches his thirst.
You are the oasis in this blooming dream.
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AND WE’RE DONE !! it was such a ride and i loved writing this one so much !! if you enjoyed it, please don’t forget to do the following: like, reblog and/or send me an ask <3
as always, i love talking to you guys about the characters, story or anything at all !!!
926 notes · View notes
aroseforyoongi · 7 months ago
All I Want
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Pairing: Werewolf!Jungkook x Reader
Genre: Werewolf AU; Soulmates AU; Best friends to lovers AU; College AU; Roommates AU; Idiots to lovers AU; fluff; smut; tiniest bit of angst if you really, truly squint
Rating: M (smut)
Summary: Jungkook, has been your best friend since the two of you were five years old and he saved you from those bullies in kindergarten. Now you’re both adults, and your friendship is the same as ever. You want him as much more than just a friend, but the problem is that somewhere out there, Jungkook has a Moon-chosen mate.
Word Count: 10.3k
Warnings: Oral (female receiving); Knotting; Multiple orgasms; Creampie (JK turns Y/N into a proper Boston cream donut in this one); Cum eating (would this really by one of my smut fics if this was not a feature?); Impreg/breeding kink (it’s a werewolf fic, what do you expect?); Excessive amounts of cum (like so much; far too much really for any human being to handle but this is fiction); Fingering; Soft dom Jungkook (he’s so soft. If you thought Young Alpha Jungkook was soft, he’s got nothing on this one); Swearing; Bullying; Blood
Oh look, I wrote another filthy Jungkook werewolf fic, because y’all loved Young Alpha so much that I didn’t have a choice. Enjoy this fic where Jungkook and Y/N are complete idiots in love. I tried something new with this one and wrote the smut first. It kind of got carried away and ended up being much longer than anticipated. What I have confirmed to myself is that I cannot write PWP. Even my smut has a plot. My lord is this one filthy. I hope y’all have adequate hydration and a cold shower at the ready. Good luck.
Growing up with a werewolf as a best friend had been a unique experience to say the least. Most of the time, werewolves and humans avoided each other. Not you and Jungkook. Oh no, the two of you were absolutely insperaerapble.
It had all started when you were five years old. Some of the werewolves in your kindergarten class were bullying you for being so much smaller than them. It wasn’t your fault that nature decided humans should be so much smaller. It also didn’t help that both your school neighbourhood were predominantly inhabited by werewolves. In fact, your family were the only humans on the whole street.
When one of the boys began to push you around, out of nowhere, a mass shot out from nowhere, knocking him over. That turned out to be Jungkook.
“Stop it!” he shouted.
By werewolf standards, he was tiny. Despite this, he was still a bit bigger than you. The boys who had been bullying you took one look at him and started laughing. This gave Jungkook the chance to take you by the hand and drag you away before the bullies noticed.
When you were both safe, hiding on the other side of your school, both panting, Jungkook stuck out his hand.
“I’m Jeon Jungkook,” he introduced.
“_____,” you replied, taking his hand.
“_____, you’re going to be my best friend.”
From then on, true to his word, you and Jungkook stayed best friends. He didn’t stay the tiny, little werewolf that saved you from the bullies for long. By the time Jungkook was thirteen, he dwarfed you. His werewolf genetics made it so that he was much larger than the average human man. The fact he was an alpha accelerated his growth. Being both a werewolf and alpha also made it so that he was painfully attractive. Not that he seemed to be aware of this.
Much of your teenage years had been spent pining over Jungkook and glaring at girls who expressed interest in him. He remained completely oblivious to both their interest in him and the fact that he was inhumanly beautiful. You, on the other hand, were just a normal human, with absolutely no hope of actually attracting Jungkook. Especially with such stiff competition.
If that wasn’t bad enough, you truly didn’t have a prayer, because Jungkook was destined to find his Moon-chosen mate one day. The one who he’d spend the rest of his life with. Sure, he could date other people, not that he ever did, but it could never be serious. His mate was almost guaranteed to be a werewolf. It was very rare for werewolf mates to be humans, and completely unheard of when it came to alphas.
Now, in grad school, you were still hopelessly in love with Jungkook, who still seemed completely oblivious to the interest of anyone around him. You tried dating both humans and werewolves, but it never got very far. The chemistry you had with Jungkook was missing with every other partner. Things were easy with him.
It seemed almost pointless to try and find anyone to have a relationship with. They always paled in comparison to Jungkook, and that wasn’t fair to anyone. Though, there was one werewolf who came close to being as attractive as Jungkook in your eyes. Namjoon, went to the same university as you. The two of you were studying completely different things, but often ended up at the campus coffee shop together.
This was one of those days.
“How goes it, _____?” Namjoon asked.
“It goes,” you sighed. “My coursework is killing me.”
Namjoon gave you a sympathetic smile. “I get it. I can’t say I understand. My program isn’t as hard as yours it seems.”
“I should have become a librarian or something.”
“As much as I would love to have you in my library science courses, I think you’d be terrible at it,” Namjoon teased. “The first person who asked you a stupid question would end up with a book in their face.”
You snorted. “Not wrong there.”
The barista interrupted any other potential conversation when he dropped off two massive mugs.
“Two flat whites,” he said with a wink.
“Thanks Jimin,” you said brightly.
Instantly, Jimin’s face fell.
“I’m not Jimin here,” he hissed. “I’m Mesmer. God, _____, get it right for once.”
You rolled your eyes. “Okay, okay, Mesmer.”
“Thank you. Now don’t forget it.”
Jimin quickly rushed off to go help another customer, leaving you and Namjoon alone again.
“Why do we come here?” you asked.
“Because Jim-sorry-Mesmer is our friend,” Namjoon said wearily.
“He was your friend first. I only get dragged along for stuff.”
Namjoon grumbled something unintelligible before reaching into his backpack and pulling out his laptop. This cafe wasn’t the ideal place for studying, but the two of you went there out of loyalty for Jimin, who assumed the identity Mesmer while working.
The cafe was one of these New Age trendy places that kept popping all over the city in response to the increasing witch population. Everyone who worked there assumed some kind of new identity that seemed tied to magic. You didn’t really get it either.
Jimin definitely wasn’t someone you had planned on befriending. Come to think of it, you didn’t think Namjoon planned on it either. Just as Jungkook had saved you from childhood bullies, both you and Namjoon saved Jimin.
Nobody had an issue with Jimin being gay or the fact he occasionally wore dresses and knew how to do winged liner better than anyone you’d met. No, the problem they had was the fact that he was a werewolf that never grew.
The day you and Namjoon had saved him, the two of you had been walking to lunch, chatting about morning classes. The sound of a whipped dog whimpering caught your attention, and you ended up dragging Namjoon into an alley.
To your horror, four massive werewolves were beating up on someone much smaller than them. The second the bullies saw Namjoon, who happened to be an alpha, they took one look at him and ran off. What they left behind was largely a puddle of blood and what looked like raw hamburger meat.
“That’s a werewolf,” Namjoon gasped.
You looked at him, confusion written all over your face. “How can you tell?”
“The smell.”
You’d have to trust Namjoon on that, because the quivering mass in front of you didn’t look like much of anything at all. When you saw mass start to move and stand up, you jumped back. It startled you.
“H-h-h-he-he-help m-m-m-me,” it choked out.
In an instant, Namjoon was at the side of whoever this was and helped them up.
“Call an ambulance, _____,” Namjoon ordered.
Fumbling with your backpack, you pulled out your phone and typed in the number for emergency services. The dispatcher on the other end assured you that someone would be there soon.
It took several weeks for the mass in the alleyway to recover, but when it did, you found out that it was actually a he, named Jimin. From then on, Namjoon took him as a member of his pack. This didn’t stop the bullying completely, but it did help make things a lot easier for Jimin. Most werewolves took one whiff of Namjoon’s smell on Jimin and they went the other way.
From that moment on, the three of you had become friends. Even though sometimes Jimin drove the two of you up the wall with his antics, he was loved and supported no matter what. After he had recovered from being beat to an inch of his life, Jimin started to live with Namjoon so you saw a lot of them together.
“What’s the plan for today?” Namjoon asked, pulling you out of your memories.
You shrugged. “Tae’s coming over and we’re going to watch movies and play video games. At least, I think we will?”
“Sounds more fun than my night.”
“Why? What are you planning?”
Namjoon groaned, placing his head on the table. “I have a cataloging assignment and it’s a group project. My three other partners haven’t done anything so I’m probably going to get stuck doing everything.”
“Ouch.” You placed a hand on Namjoon’s back in an attempt to provide comfort.
“This shit was supposed to end in high school,” he continued. “Why do I still have shitty groupmates now?”
“Can you switch?”
“Project’s due in three days. My prof won’t let us.”
“Ouch,” you said once again.
Namjoon opened his mouth to say something else, but was cut off when your phone lit up, signalling you had received a text.
Jungkook: Where are you?
Glancing at the time at the top of your phone screen, you swore. It was past the time you said you’d be home.
“Shit! Sorry, Joon! I gotta go,” you said.
As quickly as you could, you downed the rest of your latte, and rushed off. Thankfully you hadn’t unpacked your backpack, so you were able to just sling it over your shoulder and go. The other good thing was that the apartment was extremely close to the cafe Jimin worked at.
You managed to get home in record time, and when you burst through the door, both Jungkook and Taehyung practically fell over from surprise.
“Sorry, I’m late,” you apologized. “Lost track of time. Was at Jimin’s cafe.”
Jungkook nodded. “No worries. You’re here now. How’s Jimin?”
“I’m pretty sure Jimin is fine, but I can’t be sure about Mesmer.”
“Oh! Does he work at that fancy place nearby?” Taehyung chimed in.
You nodded. “That’s the one.”
“Alright! Let’s get to enjoying our night!” Jungkook cheered.
You left your backpack on the floor and went to join the two werewolves on the couch. It was a bit of a tight fit but the three of you managed to make it work. Unfortunately, it didn’t stay civil for very long.
Taehyung and Jungkook kept egging each other on, while you focused on staying ahead in the racing game that was being played. They were practically shoving each other off the couch.
In order to stay safe, you moved to the nearby armchair, where no stray body parts could catch you by accident. It only took an instant for Jungkook to notice you were gone. He turned around, pouting.
“_____, why’d you leave?” he asked.
You rolled your eyes. “You two were killing each other over there. I’m quite happy right here.”
“I feel so unwanted.”
“Taehyung will love you.”
From beside Jungkook, Taehyung vigorously nodded. “I will always love you.”
To add to the impact of his statement, Taehyung grabbed onto Jungkook and pulled him into a giant bear hug. You suppressed your laughter as Jungkook let out a howl of rage once he realized what was going on.
Taehyung’s momentary distraction provided you the opportunity to send a blue shell at Jungkook’s character, sending it careening off the track.
“I’ve been betrayed!” Jungkook howled. “By my two best friends!”  
The doorbell ringing provided you the opportunity for a moment of relief from the two werewolves who had begun wrestling again in earnest. When you got up from the armchair, you were forced to duck out of the way of a wayward fist while Taehyung and Jimin roughhoused.
On the other side of the door, patiently waiting was the pizza delivery. The driver pulled out his card reader and you tapped your phone against it. When the little ding of affirmation resounded from the machine, you eagerly took the six boxes and shut the door behind you.
“Food’s here,” you called out.
From the living room, a crash could be heard, followed by two bodies scrambling to get up. You sped off to the kitchen before they could beat you to it so that the pizzas could actually be put onto the table for once.
When Jungkook and Taehyung appeared in the doorway, they got stuck trying to shove each other out of the way. You merely sighed and went to go get plates for the pizza while they worked things out.
“Are you two going to be okay? Do you need a room?” you called over your shoulder. “I feel like I’m intruding on something intimate.”
Instantly the two werewolves sprang away from each other. While Jungkook looked confused, Taehyung hung back looking longingly at his friend. The look was only there for a second before he schooled his face back into its usual goofy grin.
Your heart sank a bit for Taehyung. The two of you had commiserated on several occasions over your shared attraction to Jungkook who didn’t seem to have an interest in either of you. At least you were always able to console Taehyung with the fact that there was a Moon-chosen person out there for him. The same could not be said for you.
“Alright, let’s eat,” you said, breaking the tension.
Setting plates down on the table, you stepped back quickly enough so that the two werewolves could try to murder each other over the best pieces. There was a reason six pizzas had to be ordered. You’d only have maybe half of one. Even that might be split into two meals, depending on how the night went.
These two on the other hand were going to easily consume the other five and a half pizzas, while possibly wanting more.
“_____, aren’t you going to eat?” Jungkook asked with a pizza slice hanging from his mouth.
You nodded. “I will. I just prefer to avoid potential death when I try and get my dinner.”
The other two werewolves shrugged and went back to trying to shove each other out of the way for pizza. The one good thing about them finding mates, you decided, was that they might finally be civilized. For years now, you’d tried, and failed. Hopefully someone else could do what you couldn’t.
After a seemingly endless battle with each other, the two werewolves finally broke apart, and began walking back to the living room, laughing about some video game they played together. In these moments, it was so easy to imagine that they were just normal young guys. Not immortal beings who could turn into wolves at will. Sure they roughhoused a lot, but it wasn’t like they were trying to tear each other apart. Mostly. There was some plausible deniability.
You waited several more moments, just to make sure it was safe, before going to the table and grabbing some pizza for yourself.
“_____, come back,” Taehyung called.
Eagerly you took your food and rushed back to the living room where they had set up the pullout couch for movie watching purposes. There was an obvious space that had been left between them, which you assumed was for you. As if reading your mind, Jungkook confirmed it, and patted the space next to him.
“Come here,” he said. “We made room.”
It was a bit of effort to maneuver yourself into the space that had been made for you while also holding onto a plate of pizza. Somehow you managed to do it. Once you were comfortable, Jungkook immediately threw an arm around you and pulled you into him. He balanced his plate on his lap and ate with his free hand while the other stayed firmly around your waist.
Out of the corner of your eye, you could see Taehyung looking visibly uncomfortable and you felt bad. In an attempt to make this a little less awkward for him, you tried to move out of Jungkook’s hold, but he merely held on tighter. To make matters worse, Jungkook even leaned over and placed a kiss on the top of your head, taking a moment to deeply inhale your scent.
Taehyung coughed awkwardly. “So, what movie are we watching?”
“Oh! Let’s watch this horror movie,” Jungkook suggested. “It’s about this girl who inherits a family demon or whatever.”
“Oh! I’ve heard of it!”
It took Taehyung a minute to find the film and as soon as it loaded up, dread pooled in your stomach. Horror movies were absolutely not your thing. It wasn’t so bad in the moment, though you jumped at every little sound. The worst was after the fact, when you were alone in bed, imagining that the horrors from the film were coming to get you.
This movie wasn’t just scary, it was downright horrifying. Within minutes, your pizza was left untouched while you buried your face into whatever part of Jungkook you could reach. If it was this scary right away, you knew you wouldn’t be sleeping for weeks.
For the duration of the film, even though you couldn’t see it, you could hear everything in excruciating detail. It took very little imagination to figure out what was going on in the film. By the time the credits were rolling, you had burrowed behind Jungkook, shaking like a leaf.
“Alright, I’m heading out. I have stuff tomorrow,” Taehyung announced.
You raised a hand in farewell in the general direction that you thought Taehyung was located. His laughter could be heard as he left the apartment. A few moments after that, Jungkook gently dug you out and put you beside him on the pullout couch.
“You okay there, _____?” he asked.
You shook your head. “No. That movie was awful. Why would you do that?”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t realize it was so bad.”
“I’m not going to sleep for a week!”
Jungkook seemed to consider something for a moment, his eyes focusing on the ceiling.
“Why don’t you let me clean up here, and then we can sleep on the couch together,” he suggested. “Nobody will touch you with a werewolf around.”
This seemed like a fair compromise considering Jungkook was the cause of your distress in the first place.
“Okay,” you agreed. “Don’t take too long!”
Jungkook leaned over and placed a quick kiss to the top of your head before flashing a thumbs up, and rushing to the kitchen to clean everything. Alone in the living room, you pulled your knees to your chest and glared suspiciously at every shadow. All the normal little noises that came from simply living in an apartment caused you to jump.
Someone walking with heavy footsteps on the floor above turned into a demon on its way to find you. The sound of pipes creaking was a banshee about to warn you of your impending death. Everything was frightening.
“_____? You okay?”
Jungkook’s voice broke you out of your thoughts. When you looked up, he was watching you with an extremely concerned expression. He quickly crossed the short distance to the couch and climbed in. Blankets and pillows had been brought along to make this more comfortable.
It didn’t take long for the two of you to get settled. Jungkook wrapped his arms around you, and rubbed comforting circles into your back.
“Everything will be okay,” he soothed. “Everything will be fine.”
In his arms, you were able to easily drift off, feeling safer than ever.
When you woke up, the following morning, Jungkook was still holding you close, and you felt refreshed. This was the best sleep of your life. Not that you’d ever admit it to the other person on the couch with you. He’d never let you live it down.
As soon as he felt you stir, Jungkook woke up. He looked down at you and offered a soft smile.
“Morning, _____,” he said.
“Morning,” you mumbled.
Slowly, you and Jungkook separated from each other, and you immediately missed the warmth of him against your body.
“What do you want to do today?” Jungkook asked.
You shrugged. “Want to go out for breakfast?”
Instantly, Jungkook brightened. “I know just the place! They opened up recently and they do steak for breakfast.”
“Are there other things?”
“Yeah, but come on, _____, steak!”
You shook your head. “I’ll pass on that as a breakfast food, thanks.”
Jungkook shrugged. “Your loss. Come on! Get ready to go!”
With renewed vigour, Jungkook was up and rushing to get ready. You, on the other hand, slunk over to the bathroom and tried your best to hurry. A morning person, you were definitely not. By the time you had managed to wash your face and brush your teeth, Jungkook was already calling you from the doorway.
“Give me five minutes,” you called back.
“Hurry!” Jungkook whined. “I’m hungry!”
If you were within throwing range, you would have lobbed a pillow or something at him. Not that it would actually do anything, but it would make you feel a bit better. As tempting as it was to pout, go even slower, and be childish about the whole thing, you decided to behave.
If you didn’t get a move on, however, Jungkook would pick you up and carry you out of the apartment himself. Not wanting to push him to do this, you rushed out of the bathroom and got ready as quickly as possible. Even though it really didn’t take all that long, Jungkook was still huffing and puffing.
“You look like the Big Bad Wolf,” you teased.
Jungkook glared. “You would too if you were as hungry as I am!”
Biting your tongue, you just rolled your eyes at Jungkook instead, and walked out of the apartment before he could say anything else. As soon as the two of you were out of the building and on the street, the stares began. It had stopped bothering you a long time ago, and now you just accepted that people weren’t able to figure out why someone like you would be with someone like Jungkook. You were perfectly aware that he was too good for you.
At first, you did your best to ignore them, but at some point it became impossible. Once you got to that point, you decided to do something daring.
Taking Jungkook’s hand in yours, you laced your fingers with his, and moved a bit closer to him. He barely even registered the action. If people were going to stare, you figured you’d given them something to look at.
Even though being in any kind of a relationship with Jungkook was always going to be in the realm of fantasy for you, there was no harm in indulging a little bit. Especially when the man in question had no issues with it. He was always more than happy to hold your hand in public.
As if he could read your mind, Jungkook slowed down for a moment, and placed a kiss on the top of your head.
“I’ll be so sad one day, when you find someone,” Jungkook whispered.
He said it so softly that you doubt he intended you to hear. His words caught you off guard. Why would he be worried about something like that. There was a Moon-chosen mate out there, waiting for him. You were completely unnecessary.
Not sure how you’d even begin to address this with him, you decided that the best thing would be to pretend you’d never heard anything at all. It was the safest bet. For now, you were more than happy to just spend the day with Jungkook.
The hours passed by rather easily, and at some point, one of your friends asked if you would like to go clubbing. Having not been around other women in a while, you were more than happy to accept. A bit of girl time was needed to balance out all the testosterone you’d been subjected to recently.
When you and Jungkook returned home, you hurried to go get ready. It didn’t take long to find the perfect outfit for night out. You knew that some heads would definitely be turning tonight. Hopefully they were the kind that were good at making you forget about Jungkook, even if only temporarily.
The main part of the apartment was devoid of Jungkook’s presence. He must have gone to his room.
“Jungkook, I’m going out,” you called.
There was no response, but you didn’t think much of it. As you were about to put on shoes, Jungkook suddenly appeared. He did not look happy.
“What do you mean you’re going out?” Jungkook asked in a voice that was cold as ice.
You sighed. “I’m going clubbing with friends. You’re free to come along.”
At this, Jungkook turned up his nose. “I hate places like that. You know this. Besides, you shouldn’t be going anyways. It’s not safe.”
“Why do you care?”
“I don’t like seeing so many eyes on you. I hate how all those males look at you. Like you’re some kind of meat,” Jungkook spat.
The look he was giving you was enough to make your knees weak, and you began to become uncomfortably damp between your legs. A fact that hadn’t gone unnoticed by Jungkook. His nose twitched in response to the new scent in the air, but he otherwise remained stoic.
“Then what are you going to do about it?” you challenged.
Jungkook took two steps towards you. That was all it took to have you backed up against the wall.
“You’re not going,” Jungkook said simply. “I’m your alpha and what I say goes.”
You glared at him. “I’m not a werewolf and I’m not part of your pack so you can’t order me around. Doesn’t work.”
“Are you sure?”
Jungkook’s voice was dangerously low, and he placed his hands on your waist, pulling you into him.
“I think you should stay,” he said softly.
Your breath caught in your throat. He knew what kind of effect he had on you. Whenever he didn’t want you to do something, he’d do this. His one hand trailed it’s way down your skirt and began to play with the thin material of your underwear.
“I don’t think you’re in any state to go out tonight. You’d be such a perfect piece of prey,” Jungkook said softly.
Just as quickly as he had appeared, Jungkook stepped away, and disappeared into his room, leaving you a complete mess. This could only mean one thing: his heat was impending. For the most part, Jungkook really didn’t care what you did. When you were ovulating, he tended to say that you should probably stay home. It was only when his heat started to grow near, that he became possessive. You always figured it was because you were the only female around him and it was because he was an alpha. Jungkook had an instinctual desire to protect.
After a few moments, you picked yourself up and realized that you were definitely in no state to go clubbing with friends. If there were any werewolves there, they would pick you out in an instant and it wouldn’t be pretty. That was even more true if they were also nearing their heat. You doubted that most male werewolves would be able to have anywhere near the self-control Jungkook had.
With your mind made up to stay home, you send a quick text to one of your friends to explain you were going to have a night in because you weren’t feeling very well. She sent a very suggestive series of emojis and you replied with a rolling eye one. All of your friends were very aware of your feelings for Jungkook, and loved to tease you about it.
“Jungkook,” you called out. “Do you want to watch a movie or something?”
As if by teleportation, Jungkook appeared at your side, with phone in hand. He looked much more at ease than before.
“Pizza?” he asked.
You nodded. “Sure.”
While Jungkook dialled the nearby pizza place, you went to your room to get changed. Initially, you had been annoyed at Jungkook, but it was hard to stay mad at him when you knew he wasn’t fully in control of his own reactions right now.
Thankfully, the rest of the evening passed by with no other incidents. Not even when you mentioned going out with Namjoon at some point.
“We’re going to get coffee and study,” you explained.
Jungkook shrugged. “Whatever you want.”
“Are you sure?”
A look of confusion crossed Jungkook’s face.
“Why wouldn’t I be?” he asked.
“Because of the whole “clubbing incident” that happened less than an hour ago,” you said.
“Oh! Shit! Sorry, _____. I didn’t even… That was awful of me.”
You waved a hand dismissively. “It’s fine. I get it. Your heat is coming soon and you’re not totally yourself.”
Jungkook shook his head. “Yeah, my heat will be here soon, but that’s no excuse. I was a dick. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t worry about it, Kook.” You offered him a genuine smile. “Incident forgotten. Just don’t do it again.”
Much of the tension that had existed since the “clubbing incident”, as you had dubbed it, dissipated almost instantly. Things were much better now.
The following day, Jungkook was huffy and moody. He spent most of his time holed up in his room, avoiding anyone and everyone. His heat was definitely near.
“Jungkook, do you want food?” you called out.
“No,” Jungkook called back.
“You need to eat!”
“Don’t wanna.”
The childishness of this stage of his pre-heat always drove you insane. The only consolation you had was that it would all stop once he found his mate. When that happened, however, Jungkook would no longer be yours. He’d leave you to spend his immortal life with someone else and you’d be left alone. There was a reason why humans and werewolves tended to avoid spending time around each other.
Part of it was prejudice, but you realized that a big part of it was also the fact that if you weren’t a werewolf’s mate, heartbreak was inevitable. Unless someone was one of the rare humans that got lucky, and ended up mated to a werewolf, they’d end up growing older and eventually dying. The werewolf, on the other hand, stopped aging after they turned twenty-five and just kept living on indefinitely. That immortality was a gift few humans would ever be granted.
Before your wallowing could get bad, you were distracted by a text that appeared on your phone.
Jungkook: It started.
Two words, and yet they spoke volumes. Jungkook’s heat had come earlier than expected and you were worried. He still hadn’t found his mate, and he was one of the oldest werewolves you’d ever met who was unmated. At twenty-five, he was long past that age.
You: Tell me if you need anything.
The only response from Jungkook was a thumbs up emoji. You knew that he wouldn’t be sending anything more substantial for a while. At least not until his heat subsided a bit more and that could take a long time.
It had been days since much sound could be heard coming from Jungkook’s room, and you were worried. His heats were something you’d dealt with for years at this point, being his best friend and roommate. It was a normal part of the year, where, in April, Jungkook would hole up somewhere for a week or so and just deal with the experience on his own.
A system between the two of you had been devised to handle food. You would leave a plate in front of his room, and then scurry off before hiding in your own room to text him about the delivery. It wasn’t a perfect system and you needed to time it in the low periods of Jungkook’s heats when he was most clear-headed, but it was the best you had right now.
Based on your calendar, however, Jungkook’s heat should be over. Last year had been difficult on him and this year you had a feeling would be the same. He had yet to find his mate and you were getting worried. He was getting up in years and every single heat without a mate, after a certain age, was unbearable.
As much as you wanted to give him privacy, you wanted to make sure he was at least alive. It was taking a lot of willpower to force yourself to knock on his door. He hadn’t eaten lunch or dinner yesterday, and breakfast today was untouched as well. He had to be starving. All texts had also been ignored.
“Jungkook,” you called out while slamming your fist on the door. “Kook, are you alive in there?”
At first you could hear nothing in response, so you pressed your ear against the wood of the door. Heavy shuffling could be heard on the other side, followed by a strained panting.
“_____, you should go,” Jungkook gasped out. “Please.”
“I’m not going anywhere, Kook,” you insisted. “Not until you tell me what’s going on.”
“I… I can’t tell you.”
“It’s… not… fair… to… you…” Jungkook panted.
Every single word sounded like agony coming from him and your heart tore in two. The sweet werewolf you’d spent so much of your life around. He was your childhood best friend and the one you were hopelessly in love with. Even if nothing could come of it, you were stuck with these feelings.
“Jungkook, please talk to me. I trust you,” you said softly.
From under you, the door shifted just enough for Jungkook to be able to poke his head out. He looked like death warmed over. Even that was a generous description. He looked absolutely awful.
“Jungkook! You need to go to the hospital!” you exclaimed. “You’re dying!”
With great effort, Jungkook shook his head. “I’m not. Mostly. I’ll be fine.”
“Then what’s going on.”
“It’s been too… long… without… my… mate..”
At the last word, Jungkook looked ready to pass out from the sheer exertion of the effort he was putting into speaking. Your heart broke at the sight of him.
“Why don’t I go find her?” you asked. “Or him. It might be a him. Is it a him? I have no idea how I would even do this, but I’m willing to try for you, Jungkook. Just let me help you.”
“Stop!” Jungkook roared.
In an effort to get some space between the two of you, you took a few steps backwards. As much as you wanted to reason with him, Jungkook wasn’t in his right mind. Whatever he wanted, you’d be willing to provide if it meant he’d have an easier time getting past his heat.
Now that you were out of range of the door, instead of shutting it like you expected Jungkook to do, he instead opened it further and took a step forward. He was completely naked, and while you would have normally loved the chance to oggle him, now was not the time. Like the predator you knew he was, Jungkook stalked forward. Each footstep was heavy, as his body was weighed down with exhaustion. With each step forward he took, you moved backwards. This slow motion chase continued until your back was pressed against the nearest wall.
It took Jungkook a few more steps to catch up with you, his dark eyes never leaving yours. This was the most animalistic you’d seen him in over twenty years of friendship. When he finally stopped in front of you, he bent down so that he was eye level with you, hair hanging in front of his eyes in a way that did little to hide how dangerous he was at this moment.
Moving his head forward, Jungkook nosed at your neck, inhaling deeply. Goosebumps covered your skin as his nose ran along the sensitive skin of your neck.
“So sweet,” Jungkook said softly.
As much as you tried to resist the urge, your body had other plans. Wetness began to pool between your legs as your arousal began to build. The combination of Jungkook pressed against you and what he was currently doing was proving too much. Years of pining after him had taken their toll and you were willing to take whatever crumbs he threw your way. It was immediately apparent that Jungkook noticed when he stopped his scenting of your neck. A low growl resonated from his chest.
“You shouldn’t be tempting me,” Jungkook warned.
You tried your best to squirm away, but Jungkook’s hands shot out, placing themselves on either side of your waist. He pinned you tightly against the wall as he parted your thighs with his own.
“Such a bad girl,” Jungkook continued.
While one hand stayed firmly attached to your hip, the other trailed down your side, until it made its way to the waistband of your pyjama shorts. Jungkook made quick work of both those and your underwear. He simply tore them off of you in a motion that was so quick, you only realized it when you felt the cool air of the apartment on your bare skin. Glancing down, you saw the torn tatters of your clothes floating to the carpeted flooring.
Now that your lower half was completely exposed, Jungkook’s fingers made their way to your folds, parting them, and running his index finger along your centre.
“So wet,” Jungkook hissed. “You have no idea what you’re doing to me.”
Anything you were about to say died in your throat as soon as you saw the look in Jungkook’s eyes. He was feral at this point. Pupils blown with lust, he was practically salivating. Much to your relief, Jungkook stepped away, releasing you from the wall. This was only a temporary reprieve, as he knelt down and clamped your thighs in his hands, while shoving himself face first into your pussy.
You gasped at the feeling of his nose brushing your clit, as his tongue roughly lapped at all of your essence that was flooding from you at this point. Thankfully, Jungkook had a good grip on you, or else you would have instantly collapsed to the floor the second he got near you in this way.
One hand moved away from your thigh, while the other tightened its grip. Jungkook’s fingers were digging into the soft flesh of your thigh, and while you were sure it would have hurt under normal circumstances, you were far beyond the point of caring. Much to your embarrassment, this was the fastest you’d ever become so turned on, but you were willing to blame it on the fact that your painfully attractive best friend had his head shoved between your legs.
“Jungkook,” you whined out in an embarrassingly high pitched tone.
A deep laugh reverberated through him, the feeling of it vibrating against you, while the hand that had moved away from your thigh, made its way to your pussy. With no warning, Jungkook shoved two fingers in, stretching you out in a way that hurt so good, and began to pump them in and out at a bruising pace. Your body bucked in response, shoving yourself further onto his face. This seemed to delight Jungkook and he began to eat you out even more earnestly.
“Ah! Jungkook! I’m close!” you screamed out.
The combination of his fingers and his sinful mouth were enough to practically throw you over the edge. Instead of getting there slowly, over time, like you did with previous partners, you were flung out of a proverbial cannon.
Legs shaking so badly that it was a miracle even Jungkook could hold you up with his superhuman strength, your orgasm crashed into you a truck. A massive gush of your essence burst forth, coating Jungkook’s face with it, but you did not care one bit about that.
It took several long moments of Jungkook working you through the orgasm before you finally stopped shaking and were able to mostly stand straight. When he was sure that you weren’t going to fall over if he let go, Jungkook withdrew both his face and his fingers from your pussy. Despite your best efforts to try and show some self-control, you let out a whine at the loss of contact.
Jungkook stood up, never breaking eye contact as he did, while sucking all of your essence off his fingers. His face glistened, and he looked proud of himself. Unfortunately, you weren’t given much of a chance to bask in the sight of him this way, when reality set in. No matter how much you wanted this to continue, there was no way Jungkook could go any further. Things had already gone too far.
“Jungkook, this was a mistake,” you choked out.
Every word felt like shards of glass on your tongue, and the pain was only worsened when you saw the hurt on Jungkook’s face. The expression was on his face only momentarily, before being replaced by one of neutrality.
“I see. I’m sorry. It’ll never happen again,” Jungkook said stiffly.
Gone was your playful best friend. The one who would go on midnight excursions to all-day breakfast restaurants. The one who had tutored you in statistics for ten hours a day so that you wouldn’t fail the course. The one who dried every single tear you cried, and replaced them with kisses on your cheeks until you were left a giggling mess.
In his place was the alpha that Jungkook was meant to be. Everything about him exuded power and seriousness. Your body unconsciously shifted away from him, recognizing that he was still the predator and you were definitely his prey.
“Your mate, Kook,” you insisted. “You have a mate. You can only do things during your heat with your mate. I know you’re not thinking straight right now, but that’s okay. I can do it for both of us.”
Of all the reactions that you expected to see from Jungkook, him being nearly doubled over with laughter was not one of them. The shock didn’t last long when you realized that his expression had softened and he was only looking at you with so much love that your heart ached. You were dying to bask in the warmth of his affection. To run into his arms and beg him to stay with you.
No matter how much you wanted him, it could never be. When Jungkook took a step towards you, you went backwards again. This time, you didn’t have much space until your back hit the wall.
“You think I would want to touch someone who isn’t my mate right now?” Jungkook growled as he prowled towards you. “That I’d want to put my hands on anyone else right now? How poorly do you think of me, _____?”
Despite being terrified of your werewolf best friend, you couldn’t help but feel a bit combative.
“Well, then why are you doing anything with me?” you demanded. “I’ve been in love with you for years. I don’t need either of us getting hurt.”
That last bit came out completely unintentionally, and as soon as it registered in Jungkook’s ears, his expression changed to one of surprise for the briefest instant.
Once again, Jungkook was right in front of you again, pressing you against the wall.
“How stupid are you, _____?” he asked softly.
“Wha-what are you talking about?” you asked, while trying to shift away.
“You, you idiot, are my mate. Always have been.”
This time, your knees actually did give out from hearing Jungkook’s confession. He was quick to catch you, gently picking you up, and holding you tightly in his arms. You’d seen him throw a twelve hundred pound stag like it was nothing before. You must have been as light as a feather in his arms.
“You heard me right,” Jungkook affirmed. “You’re my mate.”
“I can’t be,” you argued. “I’m human.”
Amusement danced in Jungkook’s eyes. “The Moon doesn’t care about whether our mates are human or not. You’re going to be immortal either way. It’s how the bond words.”
Jungkook began to walk towards his bedroom, and before he could make it all the way through the doorway, he stopped, hesitating.
“That’s assuming you want any of this,” he said softly, suddenly sounding unsure. “Once the bond is in place, it can’t be taken back. You’re tied to me for the rest of your immortal life.”
You grabbed onto Jungkook’s face and pulled him close to yours, eliciting a small grunt of surprise from him. “You listen here, mister. I’ve been in love with you since we were five years old and you saved me from those bullies in kindergarten. So, I’m very much okay with being your mate. You hear me?”
Jungkook nodded vigorously. “Loud and clear.”
This was the permission Jungkook seemed to be waiting for, as he practically flew the remainder of the distance to the bed. Despite his eagerness, Jungkook lowered you to the bed with such gentleness that you were taken aback. From this vantage point, however, you were able to get a close look at him.
Jungkook’s skin was covered in a sheen of sweat, while his body trembled. If you weren’t paying close attention, you wouldn’t have noticed. From the way he was acting right now, you’d almost completely forgotten about the fact that he was in the middle of his heat. To exert so much self control must be absolute agony for Jungkook.
Hovering over you, Jungkook looked into your eyes. His expression held so much love for you. He was looking at you as if you had personally brought the moon and stars down for him.
“I love you, _____,” Jungkook whispered. “So much. I love you so much.”
For the first time that night, Jungkook kissed you. He pressed his lips to yours with such tenderness that you could have cried. You could feel the passion in his kiss, and all of the emotions that he had been holding back.
The time you two stayed there, kissing each other, could have been a few moments or it could have been hours. You’d have no way to know in Jungkook’s dark room. All that mattered was his body pressed against yours, and your mouths moving against each other in synch.
Despite the fact that Jungkook was an immortal being, he needed to breathe just as much as you did and the two of you pulled away from each other when the need for air became too oppressive. Jungkook looked down at you, a silent plea in his eyes.
“Please, _____,” he begged.
Despite not knowing what you were agreeing to, you nodded anyways, and Jungkook’s shoulders immediately sagged in relief. You felt one of his hands trail down your body until his fingers were parting your folds once again. The amount of time it took for you to become soaking wet again was embarrassingly fast. No other partner had this effect on you.
“I need to get you ready for me,” Jungkook explained softly. “It won’t be bad, I promise. The knot’s going to hurt though. I can’t lie to you about that.”
Merely mentioning his knot caused you to wince. You’d heard horror stories of knots causing massive amounts of damage to unsuspecting humans. Even for other werewolves on the receiving end of them, they were painful. You hoped that being Jungkook’s mate would make any difference at all how much this hurt. It was doubtful but you hoped to be proven wrong.
Slowly, Jungkook moved so that his cock was lined up with your entrance, and he moved his hand away. The bulbous tip of it brushed at your entrance, teasing you. Jungkook grabbed hold of his cock and ran it up and down along your folds.
“Jungkook,” you wined. “Don’t tease.”
“Ah, ah, _____,” Jungkook chided. “Only good girls get their alpha’s cock. Do you deserve it?”
You nodded vigorously. “Yes, please.”
Jungkook nodded approvingly, and he put his cock against your entrance again, pushing the tip in just a bit. He began to enter you, agonizingly slowly, but it gave you a chance to adjust to his size. As a werewolf, he was well-endowed, stretching you wonderfully. There was a slight burn as he continued to push in, but it was nothing compared to how good it felt to be filled by Jungkook.
It felt like an eternity before he was all the way in, and the strain on Jungkook was obvious. He was using so much self-control to avoid simply ravaging you. It was definitely appreciated as you wanted to keep your body intact as much as possible.
For a long time, Jungkook stood there, simply looking down at you with hunger in his eyes. He looked ready to devour you.
“My little human,” he said softly.
One hand was on your thigh, while the other found its way back to your pussy. Jungkook’s thumb ran small circles over your clit, causing you to push yourself further onto him. As much as he tried to contain it, Jungkook couldn’t help but laugh at you.
“Such a good girl. So eager for my cock,” Jungkook purred. “I’m going to move now.”
You nodded, at a complete loss for words. Gently at first, Jungkook began to thrust in and out. He began to pick up speed as he went until he could find a comfortable pace. Once he found it,  Jungkook lowered himself over you, keeping himself balanced on his elbows.
Unable to resist, you reached up and pulled him down all the way. For once, it was you that initiated the kiss. This seemed to please Jungkook. He let out a low hum as his lips moved against yours. It was a sound you knew well. It meant Jungkook was happy about something.
Pulling away, Jungkook looked down at you with absolute adoration.
“You’re all mine, _____,” he whispered. “All mine forever.”
“Only yours,” you confirmed.
“I’ve been waiting for so long.”
Before you could reply, Jungkook kissed you again. This time it was much more rough, a sign that his control was beginning to slip. From what you knew of werewolves, it was impressive that he had any self-control right now. It was just further proof that he was an alpha.
Needing to breathe, Jungkook pulled away. The feral desire was back in his eyes. All hints of softness that had been there moments before were gone.
“I’m going to take you properly now,” Jungkook grunted. “Breed you nice and good.”
You nodded, letting him know that it was alright. In one swift motion, without ever pulling out, Jungkook flipped you over so that you were on your knees, backside exposed to him. Even more impressive, Jungkook never broke the pace that he had set. Somehow continuing to thrust while also maneuvering you.
Once you were stable, the new pace Jungkook set was brutal. He was thrusting with abandon, slamming his hips into you. One hand reached over and began to play with your clit, urging you towards another orgasm. Being so focused on Jungkook, you hadn’t even been paying attention to your own arousal which has been steadily building. As soon as Jungkook touched your clit again, your walls clenched tightly around him, and he grunted at the squeeze.
Much to your shock, when you began squeezing Jungkook’s cock, it seemed to expand even more inside of you, creating an even tighter fit.
“So good,” Jungkook groaned. “You take me so good. I’ll fill you up, _____. Get you nice and bred. You’ll be full of my pups and everyone will know you’re mine.”
At his words, your pussy clenched even more tightly around Jungkook and his hips stuttered, unable to keep up the pace he had set. The thumb that was rubbing circles on your clit picked up speed, driving you closer to your orgasm. With a final thrust from Jungkook, you were sent tumbling headfirst over the edge, towards your orgasm.
Body shaking, Jungkook had to hold you still so that you wouldn’t topple over. Despite his support, it was too much, and you collapsed onto the bed in a shivering heap. This did little to deter Jungkook. Instead, it seemed to only urge him on more. With a few more thrusts, you felt the telltale sight of his release. It was just a small spurt of his essence at first. Almost immediately after, it was followed by a loud growl from Jungkook. His cock twitched violently within you before he coated your inner walls with his cum.
Jungkook continued to milk his orgasm long past the time you’d have thought he’d be done. Every time you thought he was finished, he released even more cum. You had no idea how it could all be contained within you. Despite this, you loved the feeling of it in you.
The enjoyment wasn’t meant to last. At first, it was a small feeling of tightness but it quickly began to build, and you realized that it was Jungkook’s knot inflating. It rapidly increased in size and you were sure you were going to be ripped in half from it. White, hot pain coursed through your body
“Jungkook! I can’t take it!” you screamed out.
A soothing hand ran along your back and Jungkook made soothing sounds to try and calm you down.
“It’s okay, it’ll be okay,” Jungkook said softly. “You can do it. You were made to take my knot.”
“I can’t do it,” you cried, tears pricking your eyes.
“Shh… shh… you can.”
As much as he wanted to provide you with more comfort, Jungkook was still milking his orgasm. The knot inhibited his movements, but cum still kept spurting from his cock. You could feel it leaking out and running down your thigh.
With a great shudder, Jungkook finally stilled. He gently moved the two of you so that your bodies were in a spooning position on the bed. Jungkook made sure to take great care to avoid hurting you by accidentally tugging on his knot.
“I’m so sorry,” Jungkook said softly as he peppered kisses against your shoulder. “I know it hurts now. It’ll feel better soon, I promise.”
You winced, very aware of the knot that was in you. “I highly doubt it.”
“It’s always the worst the first time. At least, that’s what I’ve been told.”
“How long does it last?”
Against your back, you could feel Jungkook shrug. “I’m not sure. It seems to just deflate on its own. Sometimes it can be a few minutes, other times a few hours. I think it’ll be a while since this is the first time and I’ve wanted you so badly.”
From within you, you could feel Jungkook’s still hard cock twitch, and it forced out a bit more cum out of you. At this, Jungkook let out a soft whine.
“I was hoping it would all stay,” he said, sounding disappointed. “I’ll just have to breed you again and again to make sure you’re carrying my pups.”
You turned your neck as much as you could to try and look at Jungkook. “Am I supposed to be pregnant after this?”
“After I’m done with you, you will be.”
His eyes darkened as he spoke and heat flooded your core. Your pussy clenched around his cock and Jungkook hissed.
“You like that don’t you, _____?” Jungkook asked. “Being full of my cum? Letting me breed you over and over again?”
You nodded. In response to his words, your body ground itself against Jungkook without realizing it. He grabbed onto your hips, holding you steady as he began to thrust in and and out, as much as his knot would allow. There wasn’t much movement at first, but slowly, Jungkook’s knot deflated just a bit. Not by much, but just enough for him to be able to thrust a bit more freely.
His momentum began to build and it was clear that he was only chasing his own high right now.
“_____, you take me so well,” Jungkook moaned. “My little human takes my cock so well. Look at you, all pretty and full of my cum.”
Your walls clenched around his cock and you felt the small spurt of cum that was quickly followed by a much larger release. Unlike before, when Jungkook couldn’t stop pounding you as he milked his orgasm, this time his thrusts were much slower as he lazily released all of his cum into you.
Just as before, there was a seemingly impossible amount of cum coating your walls. It pushed out some of what was inside you already, creating an even greater mess on the sheets. By this point, you didn’t care.
Once again, Jungkook’s knot inflated, but this time, instead of making you feel like it was ripping you in half, it was almost enjoyable. You liked the feeling of being so full of Jungkook.
“Naughty girl,” Jungkook playfully admonished you. “You did that on purpose. You just wanted more of my cum didn’t you?”
One of his arms wrapped lazily around your waist and Jungkook pulled you as close as he could.
“Are you okay?” he asked while nuzzling your neck. “Does my knot hurt again?”
You shook your head. “This time it didn’t.”
Jungkook breathed an audible sigh of relief. “Good. I’m glad.”
Without warning, Jungkook moved his hand away from your waist, and with his index finger, he collected some of the cum that was leaking out. You let out a small squeak of surprise at the sudden contact. Jungkook took his index finger and popped it into his mouth, making lewd noises as he sucked his finger clean.
“We taste so good together,” he moaned.
Once his finger was clean, Jungkook did it again. He continued to collect all of the cum that he could until it was all cleaned up. Every time he did, you could feel your pussy clench in arousal.
“You like that, _____?” Jungkook asked. “Maybe after my knot deflates, I’ll clean you up even better.”
“I’d like that,” you said, feeling lightheaded at the thought.
“I know you would. But do you know what I think you want more?”
Jungkook rolled your clit between his thumb and forefinger, eliciting a gasp from you. “I think you’d like it if I filled you up again. You’re so desperate for my cum after all.”
In response, you ground yourself against him, pushing his cock deeper into you.
“You know, you could just ask,” Jungkook teased.
Suddenly, you gasped when you felt Jungkook’s knot inflate even more. It burned and your body tried to move away from the feeling, but Jungkook held tightly to you. Soon, however, your focus was drawn to the fact that you could feel Jungkook cum inside you again. Nothing had happened to stimulate another release and you were confused.
“Kook,” you gasped out. “How?”
Jungkook shrugged. “I just love filling you up, over and over again.”
“I don’t think I can handle any more.”
“I think you can take more. I’ll clean up everything that comes out.”
True to his word, while his cock released even more cum into you, Jungkook began to eagerly clean up everything that was leaking out. He lewdly moaned every single time.
“I think you enjoy this more than anything,” you teased.
Jungkook shrugged, collecting one last mouthful. Just as he finished cleaning up his finger, he stiffened, going completely rigid. You were about to ask him what was happening, but before you could he wrapped his arms around you, nuzzling his face into your neck.
“It worked, I can feel it,” he whispered.
“What did?” you asked.
“I bred you. You’re pregnant. I can feel it.”
There was so much excitement and love in his voice, that you couldn’t help but lean into him, basking in his warmth. Much to your surprise, instead of feeling anxious and confused from a confession like this, it was happiness that you felt. A family with Jungkook. It was something you’d imagined for years but never dared to actually hope it would be a reality.
“Really?” you asked.
Jungkook nodded into your shoulder. “You’re going to look so beautiful. All round and full of my pups. You’ll be glowing like the goddess that you are.”
One of his massive hands came up your stomach and he rested it there, possessively. You placed one of your hands over his, giving his fingers a squeeze. Laying there on the bed with Jungkook, connected to him in the most intimate way possible, you began to look forward to the future you’d have with each other.
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clouditae · a month ago
Slow. Dirty. Wet.
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Seokjin x reader | 18+ | oneshot | collab | friends to lovers | college au | fraternity | carwash | smut | fluff | oral sex | unprotected sex | dirty talk | bondage | blindfold | choking | dom | sub | cursing
banner maker: @joheunsaram​​
word: 5.5k
part of the hot boy summer collab
When Seokjin stops by your convenience store to buy his typical snacks, he’s such a friendly and funny person. When you stop by the beta tau sigma’s car wash, he’s a completely different person, and inside the office of that car wash, he shows you how different he really is
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“Good morning, Y/N,” Seokjin says, the bell ringing as he opens the door, the bell ringing once more as the door closes behind him. “Having a good morning I hope,” he adds, smiling his typical huge smile as he walks down the second aisle where his favorite bag of chips will be. He usually stands in front of the variety of chips looking, as if he’s deciding on which one he wants the most when he always chooses the same one. 
You check the time on the computer screen in front of you; fifteen past eleven. “Good morning,” you reply, eyes traveling back to him as he makes his way to the back of the store for his Sprite. 
He makes his way over towards you at the front, eyes scanning other foods he might want to buy as well. As usual, he takes nothing and stops in front of the counter, placing his items in front of you. You grab the chips first, showing the barcode to the scanner, hearing a beep before going for the Sprite. 
“Easy day?” he asks, fishing in his pocket for his wallet most likely. 
“So far,” you answer, handing him back his snacks for the day. You tell him the price and add, “Heading to class?”
He gives a happy smile as he replies, “Got canceled, so I’m heading towards the carwash.”
You frown in confusion, opening the cash register to put the money in. “Carwash?”
It’s his turn to frown. “You haven’t heard? My frat is having a carwash to keep our philanthropy alive.” Seokjin shrugs. “Seven good looking guys washing your car? Win-win situation for all.”
You can’t help but laugh. The Beta Tau Sigma is very well known at the university; very popular with everyone. You either want to be them, or you want to be with them. Some just want to have sex with them. Overall, they’re like the popular boys in high school, and you just happen to see one of them almost every day when he comes into the little convenient store to buy his chips and sprite at exactly fifteen past eleven. 
You’re not going to deny the fact that he is very good looking—you see what everyone is talking about. His tall figure, charming smile, and dark chocolate eyes that can make you feel all types of things. When he squints his eyes just a bit, tilting his head as he listens to you talk, it makes you want him. It’s strange to you if you’re being honest. Seokjin is such a kind, friendly person, so the fact that just a simple gesture—which is meant to be friendly—makes you want him is just ridiculous. 
He’s a nice person. That’s all you need to know. “Good luck on your carwash,” you comment. 
He opens his mouth then closes it before finally answering, “Thanks. See you later!” And with that, he grabs his items and exits the store. 
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When you see him again, it’s a few days later. You didn’t have to come in to work for a few days, so you haven’t seen Seokjin around. You don’t even see him on campus, so you only see him when you’re working. 
He enters the store and walks straight up to you rather than go towards the back to grab his usual. He stops in front of the counter and looks at you with such determined eyes it catches you off guard. You’ve never seen this look before. What is he going to say? Did you do something wrong the last time you two saw one another?
“Would you like to go out on a date one day?” he suddenly asks, definitely catching you off guard this time. 
It’s silent between the two of you for a moment before you reply, “What?”
He shifts his weight from one foot to the other, eyes looking at anything but you now. “Do you wanna go on a date?”
You open your mouth to respond, but your head is still processing his words. “You want to go on a date… with me?” You thought that your reply would be more of a statement rather than a question, but you can hear it as clear as day that you’re questioning his choice as if you’re the worst option out of the list. 
Not the best thought, but in this moment, your thoughts went straight to the negative.
And it seems Seokjin is just as confused as you are because he frowns and says, “Why did you say it like that?” 
You shrug in response. “It’s just... I never thought that someone like you would want to go on a date with me. We’re basically strangers and I’m sure there are a lot of other people who have similar interests as you, as well as know them.” 
“I know you and I have different tastes, and we only see each other here, but I would like to take you out on a date and get to know you more,” he tells you, basically throwing your comment out the window. A statement that tells you that no matter the difference, there’s always a chance that opposites attract. “So, what do you say? Would you like to go out some time?” he finishes. 
You’re silent for a moment, a debate going on in your head as to whether he’s serious or not. If you want to go on a date with him or not. Should you? Do you? You can’t deny that it’s a hard decision. On one hand, you can’t deny there’s a small attraction to him, and on the other hand, you don’t know him really well. At all, really, but almost everyone who dates doesn't know each other in the beginning. That’s the whole point in finding “the one”. 
“Sure,” you finally answer, heat rising on your cheeks as he smiles brightly at you. 
“Great,” he begins, “how about this Friday? I’ll pick you up at your dorm building?”
“Okay. Friday.” 
“Seven?” he asks.
“Seven,” you confirm, giving him a single nod. 
Seokjin doesn’t go to the back to grab his usual items. He simply waves and leaves the store. When you see him again, it’s three days later when he comes to pick you up for your date. You spent almost the whole day trying to find the perfect outfit. Eventually, after much debate, you choose a rose colored shirt and light blue jeans. Looks cute, but also looks casual so you’re not overdoing it in case he’s not looking for something too fancy.
Quickly slipping on your shoes, you grab your bag, phone and keys, and leave your dorm room, speed walking down the hall and towards the exit door. When you step outside, you’re immediately met with Seokjin. 
He greets you with a smile, and butterflies erupt in your stomach. You’re honestly surprised by the feeling. You’ve never felt a feeling like this before with him. Maybe you just never noticed? It’s hard to not notice a fluttering feeling in your stomach, or your heart beating so fast that it worries you. But right now you’re going to ignore all these lingering questions because you just want to experience this date to its fullest. You honestly want to experience all the rumors you hear when it comes to going on a date with Seokjin. 
There are tons of rumors: Seokjin is such a romantic. Seokjin is so polite and funny. Seokjin is such a sweet lover in bed—then there’s rumors about him being so rough and dominating in bed that those rumors are so hard to believe. He’s not that type of guy. 
But you want to see everything the rumors say about him. 
“You look amazing,” he says, sticking his arm out towards you. 
You can’t stop the smile growing on your lips as you reply, “Thank you. You look amazing, too.” He’s wearing black pants with a white shirt tucked in, black derby shoes and a midnight blue coat that stops at the middle of his thigh. His light brown hair parting more at the side rather than the middle. He looks like a model. 
He chuckles. “Thank you.” Looping your arm through his, he leads you towards the parking lot where his car is waiting. “I’m excited for our date,” he confesses, side eyeing you with what seems like a light blush crossing his cheeks. 
You can’t help but shyly smile as you agree, “So am I.” 
“First I’m taking you to this amazing place for dinner…”
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The first date was absolutely amazing. It’s everything you could have imagined, and everything the rumors said about him. He’s such a gentleman and such a romantic, so when he asked you out for a second date, you agreed almost immediately. He laughed at how quick your answer was and you felt so embarrassed, but you had your second date and your third. 
“You should tell your friends about our carwash,” Seokjin tells you as he places his usual chips and drink on the counter for you to scan. 
“Tomorrow’s your last day right?” you ask him, taking the items and scanning it. 
“Yup. We’ve been doing really well with raising money, but we’re trying to get as many people as we can to come by. We need as much money as we can for our philanthropy.” 
You nod, handing back his items as he hands you the exact change. “I’ll let them know,” you tell him, opening the cash register to place the money inside. 
“You can come by, too, if you want,” he begins, your eyes traveling up to him as you close the register, his eyes looking down at his items, “We have two types of treatments for your car. They'll do the fast, clean and dry way, but for you"—he looks over towards you, eyes dark and tempting—"I'll be doing the slow, dirty and wet treatment in the office.” You’re blushing immensely, heart racing at an alarming speed, and Seokjin only shrugs at your response. “After our last date, I can’t help but offer more than what we did that day.”
On your last date, a simple kiss led to more than that, but it never got to what he’s offering. However, you can’t deny that the kiss was very hot and heavy. When the two of you broke apart, you wanted more. You didn’t want to stop. 
That was the crazy part for you. You wanted more.
“That was too soon,” he says, interrupting your thoughts. “Sorry about that—just ignore what I said. I’ll see you later, okay?” Tucking his drink under his armpit, Seokjin gives you a quick smile and leaves the store, never giving you a chance to answer him. You can’t help but sigh in relief because you’re not sure what answer you’d give him. So, you continue your day with a few questions lingering in the air.
A few more hours go by when you’re finally done for the day. You gather all your belongings, say goodbye to your coworker, and head towards your car. Checking the time on your phone, you conclude that you have an hour and a half to go to your dorm, do a quick change, and meet with your friends at The Aeries for some dinner and a drink or two.
So although you shouldn’t have, you sped home in order to take a quick shower and change and sped to the restaurant to make it in time. You made it to the restaurant with two minutes to spare. You won’t do anything like that again. Your car isn’t strong enough to be speeding the streets. 
Entering the restaurant, you tell the host who you’re looking for and follow him towards the back of the restaurant where your friends are waiting. They greet you with smiles and hugs as you take a seat and place your bag next to you between you and your friend Nora in the booth. 
“So, Y/N,” Nora begins, your attention on her, “are you two a couple yet?”
“You and Seokjin. Are you a thing or what?” your friend Ella tells you with excitement in her tone.
“We just  went on a few dates,” you tell them, feeling flustered with their eyes on you. 
“Oh please. There’s no way you two aren’t a couple yet. He confesses he likes you and you obviously like him. What’s there to think about?” Cal tells you, his head shaking in disbelief at your answer.
“What makes you think I like him?” you ask. It’s only recently that you’re realizing that you’re reacting differently around him.
“Ever since you met him your eyes would light up at the sight of him. You smile so damn big—you’re like a love sick puppy,” Ella answers, leaning back in her seat, arms crossing over her chest. 
“I do not,” you argue.
“You do,” they all say, pushing your argument down real quick. 
“If you never noticed how much you’re into him, then you’re blind as hell.”
You want to argue back, but remain silent. For some reason, you feel like they’re right. Like your expression does change when he enters the store; it’s just you’re too blinded by him that you don’t even notice your demeanor changing. Giving up is the best option, so you change the subject and thankfully your friends don’t bring up your relationship with Seokjin.
The four of you exit the restaurant, chatting about what plans you have for the weekend when Seokjin’s words come back to mind. “Oh, right,” you begin, your friends stopping in their tracks as they look back towards you, “Seokjin’s frat is having their last carwash tomorrow. He’s hoping you guys go get your cars washed. The entire frat will be there, so you’ll be entertained while your car is being washed.” 
“Oh, hell yeah I’ll be there,” Cal jests, a huge smile on his face as he claps his hands in glee. “Hot guys washing my car with nothing but some loose shorts? You should have told me about it earlier. I would have gotten my car dirty everyday if it meant I got to see that view.” 
You all laugh at Cal’s comment. “I might go too, but you should go, Y/N. Seokjin will be there, and that means you’ll get to see him half naked.” Nora winks at you, and your friends laugh at most likely your shocked reaction. 
“I don’t think I’m gonna go. My car isn’t even dirty, plus water leaks in when it gets washed,” you tell them. There’s no way you can take your car.
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You’re here, and the line is long.
There are so many cars waiting to be washed it’s absolutely amazing how many people there are. There’s no way they haven’t reached their money goal yet—you can bet they made more than they need. 
Pulling your phone out of your pocket you open the group message you share with your friends. You type away when you notice they’re not here yet.
[Monday, August 30th, 1:37pm] You: Where are you guys?
You hit send and wait for a response, eyes scanning the area once more just in case you passed over them and didn’t notice. As your eyes scan the crowd of guys washing cars, some girls sitting outside their cars to watch the guys wash their cars, and even some familiar faces. Mainly the original seven… well minus Seokjin. You don’t see him anywhere. But before you can look any further for him, your phone chimes. 
[Monday, August 30th, 1:39pm] Cal: I got my car washed earlier. Haru asked me out on a date ;)
[Monday, August 30th, 1:40pm] Ella: I’m gonna be a few minutes late! Had to finish my essay
[Monday, August 30th, 1:40pm] Nora: Same!!
You give a quick understanding response before heading back to your car. You’ll just wait for them to get here so you can get your cars washed together. You don’t get close to your car when you hear Seokjin’s voice call out to you. Stopping in your tracks, you turn around to see him making his way over to you. He’s smiling at you, his hair pushed back by sweat and water. He’s wearing a loose gray tank top with a sunset in the middle, black swim trunks and sandals. His arms are toned, sweat or water slowly sliding down—glistening  in the sunlight. Your heart is racing, your body getting warmer than the sun is already making it. This is bad.
“You made it,” he says when he’s within earshot. “It’ll be a while before we wash your car, so I hope you don’t mind waiting.” He raises his hand to scratch the back of his head, his arm flexing as he does so. “We’ll be as quick as we can—”
“That other option,” you interrupt, “is it still available?” You feel so embarrassed for saying that, but with the way he’s flexing his arms, the outfit, the sweat glistening! You can’t help yourself. You want to touch him, feel him—
“It is,” he tells you, voice low and husky. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a key. He hands it over to you and you take it in confusion. “If you keep going forward you’ll find an office. Wait for me there.” 
A chill runs down your spine as you nod, heading towards the direction Seokjin told you. You pass the lines of cars and people, the little building in sight. As you get closer, a somewhat familiar face appears before you. It’s Taehyung.
“Y/N right?” You nod in response. Taehyung holds out his hand towards you. “I’m gonna need your car keys for when it’s your turn.”
“Oh. Right,” you mumble, handing him your keys. “The top side passenger side windshield needs to have a towel pressed against it on the inside otherwise water leaks through when washing the car,” you say.
“Got it. Upper right corner.” With that, Taehyung walks away and towards a car currently being dried. 
You turn your attention back to the building and walk towards it. You put the key in the hole and turn it, the door unlocking. Opening the door you enter inside, the door closing behind you. The room is dusty with only a desk, chair and small lamp to the right while a rather big couch is to the left of the room. Across from you is a window but the black curtains are blocking the sun from entering the room. 
You step further into the room unsure of where to be at, but before you can even decide whether to stand or sit, the door behind you opens, sun spilling into the room before disappearing as the door shuts close. You hear the door locking as you turn around and see Seokjin.
His entire demeanor has changed. He stands with confidence, a dominating aura surrounds him. Your body tingles with excitement and nervousness. He walks up to you, holding up a piece of fabric in his hand. “Turn around,” he says, and your body turns on its own. As if Seokjin’s words have magic to them, controlling you. He covers your eyes and ties a small knot at the back of your head. All you see now is darkness. “Hands behind your back.” Again, you do as told and you feel what you think is rope being wrapped around your wrists, tying your hands together. 
He says nothing more and you wonder what he’s going to do next, but you take in a sharp breath when you feel his teeth against the skin of your neck. He licks the sensitive area, one hand collecting your hair. You can’t help but tilt your head back to give him more access. Not being able to see what he’s doing makes everything feel ten times better. Your sense of touch heightened.
After a few more seconds, he finally stops, letting your hair go only to grab on to your arm and slowly guide you somewhere. You take several, cautious steps before he spins you around, your back to him. You hear like a rustling sound but you can’t tell what it is. You moved to the left you believe, so you must be at the couch, and you’re right when you feel Seokjin’s hands on your hips, guiding you to sit basically at the edge of the couch, in between his legs. 
He leans you back against his chest, spreading your legs as wide as you can. You can feel his hands travel up from your legs to the buttons of your shorts. He unbuttons and unzips your shorts but doesn’t push them down. Instead, his hand slips in your underwear and between your lips. You let out a sigh, resting your head against his shoulder. His fingers move up and down between your lips, rubbing small circles on your bud every now and then. 
The build up is slow. He doesn’t work his fingers fast to get you closer, and it makes you feel impatient. You want to feel his fingers inside you—you want to feel him inside you. When his fingers rub against your bud again, a small moan escapes your mouth. Your body is finally enjoying the pleasure he’s giving, and you want more of it. 
You spread your legs wider, trying to give him as much access as you possibly can, but your shorts make it hard for his hand to move freely. However, it doesn’t seem to bother him all that much. His diligent fingers work with ease in your restricted shorts, pinching your bean, rubbing it and spreading your lips for his finger to tease your entrance. You’re moaning more and more the closer you get to coming. You’re close and he knows it.
“Seokjin,” you cry, chest heaving, hips moving along his fingers.
But he stops. He removes his fingers from your core and gets to his feet, forcing you to do the same. “Turn around,” he commands, waiting for you to do so. You do as told and you feel his hands at your shirt, unbuttoning your blouse one button at a time. When your blouse is unbuttoned he asks, “Is this your favorite bra?”
“No,” you whisper. 
You feel his fingers grab a hold of your strap before a cold object touches your skin and then there’s a pull. One strap is no longer there. You realize he used a knife to cut it. He cuts the second strap before you feel his hands at the clasps of your bra. He unclasps them and removes your bra completely from you. A little off into the distance you can hear it hit the floor. You hear another sound, this one closer; like air was pushed out of something. That can only mean Seokjin sat back down on the couch.
And you’re right when he tells you, “On your knees.” You slowly lower to your knees, your left knee bumping against his foot. “All right, baby. Open your mouth and come forward.” The word “baby” sends a tingle throughout your body. You lean your body forward a bit, your mouth opening waiting for something. Seokjin grabs your face by your chin, your heart racing as you feel something warm and hard brush against your lips. “Suck me dry, baby.” 
You stick your tongue out, feeling the skin of his shaft. You don’t hesitate to take him fully in your mouth, his tip hitting the back of your throat. You hear him sigh as you bring your head back up, his tip the only thing in your mouth. Your head goes back down, your tongue swirling as you do so and you hear him groan. You continue your movements for a while, hearing him moan every time he’s fully inside your mouth. “Fuck baby, you take me so well.” He gathers your hair in his hand, holding it tightly as he pulls it back, stopping you from moving. “I can’t wait to fuck you,” he tells you, guiding you back down. He pushes your head further than what you did. Your nose touches his abdomen and you gag a bit as he keeps you there. “I want to hear you scream my name when I fuck you. I want to hear you beg me to go faster, harder.” 
He pulls your head back up and you gasp for air. You take in as much air as possible before he’s pushing you back down. “Your mouth is so warm. I could fuck your mouth all day.” When he brings your head back up, he keeps you there and thrusts his hips. You’re gagging every time he hits the back of your throat, but you want more. Your body is tingling with excitement at the sounds you’re making. The sounds he’s making. You can’t help but rub your thighs together, wanting to feel some sort of friction between your legs. “Your tits bounce so nicely, baby girl.” You want to see him. You want to see his expression, the pleasure you’re giving him. “I need to fuck your tits, baby.” He pulls out of your mouth completely, letting your hair go as he does so. 
You can hear him moving around before his hand takes a hold of your arm and lifts you to your feet. You let him guide your body to whatever position he wants. He lies you on the couch, your arms in a slightly uncomfortable position, but you don’t care. You want to hear his moans again. You feel a dip on one side of your body, right between you and the back cushion. Seokjin grabs your breasts, pushing them together before he places his penis between them. You hear him spit and you feel warmth fall on your inner left breast, sliding between his shaft and your breast. 
He begins his thrusts, and they’re not slow. He’s thrusting between your boobs like he would if he were inside you. He’s fast and has a quick rhythm. You lower your chin close to your chest and open your mouth. Seokjin takes the hint and brings himself closer, his tip barely entering your mouth when he thrusts forward. He’s cursing loud and thrusting hard. You’re honestly hoping it’ll leave bruises between your breasts. A mark of this night. A mark of a day you want to experience everyday. 
They were right. Seokjin is a dominant man. Anything he says, you must follow. There are no ifs, ands or buts with him, and you absolutely love it. However hard he is with you know, you hope the next time he’s even harder with you. You want a few bruises on your body from his touch. You want red markings on your ass cheeks from him slapping it. You want to tell him all these things, but is it too early? Will he not be into that kind of roughness?
“Fuck. Open your mouth wide, I want you to taste and swallow me,” he grunts, giving you only a few seconds to open your mouth big enough for him to enter. He deep throats you hard, the sound of his hand gripping the leather armrest invades your right ear. He moans loudly, no rhythm to his thrusts as tears prick your eyes. Your legs are rubbing together faster, wanting to feel more pleasure as he goes rigid and still. You feel his warm seed run along your tongue, building up in your mouth as he pulls out. “Open your mouth and show me, baby. Fuck you did so well.” He pinches your nipple. “Swallow.” 
You swallow, whimpering as he pinches both your nipples, his mouth against your neck once again. He bits and licks as his hands fondle your breasts. You feel his mouth lower to your boobs, taking your left breast into his mouth while the other continues to be played with. His free hand is between your legs, spreading them wide for him. He runs his fingers up and down your lips, coating them, riling you up. Finally, he inserts two digits inside you. 
“Seokjin,” you moan, feeling him push and pull his fingers inside you. Every now and then he’ll twist or curve his fingers when he pushes, and you moan louder with each twist or curl. “Please,” you beg.
Seokjin removes his mouth from your sensitive nipple. “Please what?” He curls his digits as he enters. “Tell me what you want, baby girl.” 
“P-please go faster. Please.”
He chuckles. “You want me to go faster?” You nod vigorously. “Okay, love. I’ll let you come on my fingers. Make sure you come hard though, or we’ll go for round two.” When he pulls out, he pushes in faster and rougher. You choke on air as he keeps this rough pace. He doesn’t stop, he doesn’t slow down. You’re screaming as he thrusts his fingers in you. Your back arches, toes curl as your high gets closer. Seokjin notices how close you are and he uses his other hand to rub your clit, helping you reach nirvana faster. And you do. Your body shakes forcefully as you come. 
As your body calms, he pulls his finger out from you. Your body flinches as he does so. “That wasn’t hard enough, Y/N. I told you to come hard for me.” You feel all his weight lean back onto his knees. “You better come hard for me this time or we’ll go another round.” You honestly didn’t know what he meant by that statement until you feel the tip of his shaft push in your entrance. You gasp and moan as he pushes himself inside you. “Oh, fuck you’re tight.” He’s hard already? How can he be hard that fast?
Seokjin doesn’t hesitate to slam back into you when he pulls out. He isn’t slow or soft as he fucks you. He is quick and rough, skin slapping and loud moans fill the room immediately. His hand is on your throat, holding it tight enough to make you go crazy. 
“Fuck you feel so good. I’ve been wanting to fuck you for so long, baby. Your curves and ass made it so hard not to fuck you when we first met. You don’t know how many times I’ve dreamt of fucking you in the back at the store. Taking you and having you beg me to fuck you hard. To take that chance in getting caught by customers or your boss. Fuck you feel so good. I could fuck you all day, baby. I want to fuck you all day. Right here in this room. I want to be the reason you can’t walk straight. To be the reason your body is aching. Fuck.”
He pulls out, pulling you up and onto your knees. He enters himself back in again from behind, one hand holding on to your waist while the other grips on your neck and pulls your head back with his lips pressed against your ear. He continues his hard fucking. You’re yelling at this point, feeling him hit your spot every time. You’ve already had small orgasms, your body unable to keep up with him as he continues to fuck you. 
“Let me fuck you all day. You can come to my place and let me fuck you senseless. I want to go dry in you. Can I fuck you like that? Hmm baby? Let me fuck you like that,” he moans in your ear, making you go crazy.
“Yes,” you cry. “Please fuck me like that.” 
“Oh, I will. I’ll have you begging for more each time I make you come. I need to see you—you better come hard or we’ll go again.” Much to your dismay, he pulls out and turns you back around, back to your original position. He pulls your blindfold down and you blink to clear your vision. When you do, you see him so clearly. He’s sweating. Drenched in sweat, and looking so amazing. His body is toned and glistening in sweat. 
He pushes himself back inside you fast, keeping that pace. You cry out, back arching as he slams into you. “Oh fuck, baby I’m close. You’re so tight,” he grunts, spreading your legs wider for him.
“I’m coming,” you choke, stars invading your vision. 
“Come for me,” he says, one hand going back down to our clit and making small, fast movements against it. You scream his name as you come, and as you look at him, you realize he made you squirt. You come hard, your juices hitting against his skin. “There you go baby—fuck,” he moans, his thrusts no longer in a rhythm as you feel his seed enter you. He stills for a moment, the two of you breathing heavily before he pulls out, your body flinching. 
There’s a knock at the door. Both of you look towards it and Seokjin speaks up, “Looks like your car is ready for you.” You look to him and he looks down at you. “The frat is having a party tonight if you want to come.” He scans your body. “I could go for round three tonight.” 
You go to the party that night, wearing a long sleeved shirt because the rope left its marking on your wrists. And that night you had round three. This time he was a lot more rougher with you. He left his markings on plenty of spots on your body, but you’re not complaining.
488 notes · View notes
opaljm · 5 months ago
yours, truly (m) – jjk
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⟶ pairing: female reader x Jungkook
⟶ rating: 18+
⟶ genres & tropes: angst, future smut; arranged marriage/marriage of convenience, enemies to lovers, scorned lovers with a past, second chance romance, featuring ceo!jungkook & music producer!reader
⟶ summary: Ten years ago, you had run away from your family to pursue your dreams of becoming an idol. Eight years ago, those dreams were turned into dust and you were forced to beg your family to take you back in. Now, as a part of their agreement for making you a member of the illustrious Min family once more, you were forced to do their every bidding, including marrying the man you hated the most of all.
⟶ warnings/content tags: tension and hostility between Jungkook and the reader, flashbacks, talk of being a runaway teen, alluding to family problems/drama, producer shenanigans, dramatic jungkook, petty reader, this chapter is sfw!
⟶ length & status: 13k words; in progress
⟶ a/n: Hello welcome to Naia’s first (of several) long fics of this year. This is entirely free written which means there’s not really an outline. Outside of whatever chapter I am currently writing and a vague idea of how the only the next chapter after it will go, I am just going with the flow as far as the plot goes. So this is actually the third story of the Marital Bliss universe, however, you don’t need to read the other two fics before this to be able to enjoy this one. I will post the other chapter ones after this before I post chapter two for this fic. Just a head’s up. I plan on having the other two posted in May as well, though so don’t worry. I hope you guys enjoy this! Also sorry for the super long boring A/N at the beginning. You have @chateautae​ to thank for the surprise early drop lol! I hope you guys don’t mind that it’s not Friday. beta-read by the lovely @hantaev​. The masterlist will be linked after all three stories’ first chapters are out!​
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"𝚂𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍𝚗'𝚝 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞, 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝙸 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍𝚗'𝚝 𝚑𝚎𝚕𝚙 𝚒𝚝
𝙷𝚊𝚍 𝚊 𝚏𝚎𝚎𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚗𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚏𝚎𝚕𝚝 𝚒𝚝
𝙸 𝚊𝚕𝚠𝚊𝚢𝚜 𝚔𝚗𝚎𝚠 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚠𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚝𝚘𝚘 𝚍𝚊𝚖𝚗 𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚏𝚒𝚜𝚑
𝙳𝚘𝚗'𝚝 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚠𝚑𝚢 𝙸 𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚔𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚠𝚊𝚢
𝙸 𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚝𝚘 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚎, 𝚢𝚎𝚊𝚑,"
𝙼𝚊𝚍𝚒𝚜𝚘𝚗 𝙱𝚎𝚎𝚛, 𝚂𝚎𝚕𝚏𝚒𝚜𝚑
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The mansion that the Parks had acquired for the night was certainly magnificent. The chateauesque building was built in the late 1800s, and with its blend of Gothic and Beaux-Arts architecture, it created a massive, ornate space that evoked a sense of splendor and grandeur. The inhabitants of the first floor, that had been completely opened for the celebration, only furthering that impression with the women in their long floor-length gowns, long ropes of pearls hanging from both their necks and ears, and giant golf ball sized stones adorning the rings on their left hands while the men were decked out in three piece dark suits, livening up their outfits with the pointed toes of their leather shoes, and the wristwatches on their right arms often going up to six figures. 
You were on the periphery of the wild crush of people, nearly hugging the edge of the room like a wallflower, a wine glass in your right hand, your wrist kept snapping, idly swishing around the burgundy contents of your glass. Your plush lips were wet from the constant sips you had indulged yourself in, stained a deep berry red from what must have been two or three, or possibly even five, glasses of cabernet sauvignon. Your gaze flickered to the starlet of the night, the main reason that all of you have congregated this evening. Little baby Park, your niece through marriage, was in her father’s arms in a petal pink flouncy Dolce & Gabbana princess dress. Her pin-straight black brown hair had been neatly arranged into a cute half down half up do, in one of the few designs she could have due to the short length of her hair, and the updo part was sticking straight up like a fluffy apple stem behind the diamond barrette that was holding it up.  
Her parents were celebrating her first birthday with a massive fete, though graciously they had decided to accommodate their guests and make the event on a Saturday, rather than the following Tuesday when her birthday really was, so baby Park wasn’t even a year old. She was an adorable baby you thought to yourself, worrying your bottom lip with your teeth. You tried to keep your resentment from taking hold of you: your niece had done nothing to deserve your ire, she was an innocent babe. And yet, jealousy was still so hard for you to break free of, wanting your own little girl as well, knowing that you would probably never get her. 
Her mother joined them, the daughter instantly holding her arms out for her mama. Her mother was a gorgeous woman, two or three inches shorter than her husband, creating the perfect height difference between the pair. Other than the similar eye shape and color she shared with your husband, the siblings didn’t have much in common other than their otherworldly beauty that made them the most attractive people in any room they stood in. Every single member of your husband’s family was breathtakingly gorgeous, from your coldhearted parents-in-law, to your disgust, your husband, who turned heads wherever he went.
Based on observation, seeing your sister-in-law and her family in the passing for the last couple of days, you had a feeling that she was the favored parent. You felt like you were in the minority with your belief however, because any time anyone ever talked about your niece, the conversation shifted to how she was her father’s mini-me with plump cheeks, sleepy eyes, and the cutest pouty lips and how that must have also translated into her being a Daddy’s girl. 
It wasn’t that Jimin wasn’t a good father and didn’t spoil her needlessly, you just saw past the biased misogynistic lenses that everyone else had adorned and saw that all of the similarities between her and her father didn’t quite translate into her loving her father the most, but rather being just like him, down to sharing the same exact favorite person: the woman who had cozied up by her husband’s side and held her toddler daughter in her arms, a patient look of love and amazement painting her face as she attentively listened to her baby babble to her. But this could’ve all just been your alcohol-addled musings; you had rarely been sober any time you were in the presence of your family members by marriage.
You raised your glass for another sip, frowning against the rim before you could swallow the complex acidic burgundy liquid. If your sister-in-law was in the front with the rest of her nuclear family then where the fuck was-
“There you are, I’ve been looking everywhere for you,” your husband said, sidling up to you. 
Your frown deepened into a grimace, Jeon Jungkook looked good to your complete and utter disappointment. It was a thought that had plagued you every single one of the rare times he was in your presence. He was wearing a custom tailored suit from Louis Vuitton, his jacket was entirely open showing the bright white dress shirt underneath and his neck was missing a tie. You couldn’t even remember if he had left the hotel with a tie on, so careful were you in your avoidance and ignorance of your husband. He had made the right decision in getting rid of his tie if he had had one initially, you decided, even if his outfit looked a little incomplete. By its virtue of being all black, it went well with your midnight blue Alexander McQueen gown. 
“Have you been here the entire time?" Jungkook asked. “You disappeared pretty fast after they introduced us when we came in. My sister wanted to thank you for the birthday present you got, although she thinks we went a little overboard.”
You stared unseeingly into the murky red depths of your wine glass. You felt sick of it, you would surely hurl if you took another sip. You hadn’t even eaten, the waiting staff never quite made their way to the corners of the room with the hors d’oeuvres like they did with the alcohol. Dinner was in half an hour, you thought, but it might have been running late since no one else seemed as eager to sit down and eat like you were.
Jungkook leaned in, his overgrown dark bangs brushing against the side of your head as his frustrated whisper tickled over the shell of your ear. His hair which usually reminded you of a perfectly round coconut or a brown sugar soaked tapioca pearl, or perhaps you were just incredibly famished and hallucinating, had grown out enough that the tresses were wavy and framing his face in a devastatingly becoming manner. 
“I told you I was going to take care of the gift. You should’ve listened to me. Did you think I wouldn’t put your name on it? I’m not like that Y/N. At least she didn’t realize that this was a result of a communication error and thinks we just want to spoil our only niece.”
You couldn’t take this anymore. Your eyes continued to harden with barely concealed abhorrence and your teeth were so tightly clenched that your jaw was starting to ache. You simply did not have it within you to play one half of a happily married couple with Jungkook, right now.
“I’m going to the ladies’ room,” you announced abruptly, cutting Jungkook’s monologue short. You finally managed to dispose of the glass that had been holding your right hand captive for the entire evening by thrusting it at one of the waiting staff who had been conveniently walking by with an empty tray over his arm. 
“I’ll take you there,” Jungkook said. 
With one of your eyebrows raised, you asked, “Why? You’re not a girl. I don’t have to travel in pairs with men to go to the restroom.”
“I know,” Jungkook said with a defeated sigh, tired of your contrariety, “I just didn’t think you knew the layout too well. You’ve never been here before.”
“I’m fine,” you retorted, wrapping the sheer tulle cape that was sewn onto the dress’s shoulders, made of the same fabric and color as the rest of your gown just more transparent, even more fully around your form. You stalked away from him, your body tightened into a hard line as your figure made its way across the vast expanse of the room towards the interior exits. 
Jungkook almost let you go by yourself before he realized he hadn’t talked to you all that much today. He quickly started to move, his feet picking up speed as he followed along your footsteps. By the way your nude Kate, Louboutin heels hurried along that much more swiftly, he knew that you had realized he wouldn’t be leaving your side for the rest of the night. The glittering chandeliers overhead did excellent work casting light down on the entire room, the geometric prisms of crystals shining rainbow rays of light over your figures, making you appear angelic. Jungkook was enraptured as he followed in your footsteps, rushing to make sure you didn’t disappear from his sight.
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[almost ten-ish years ago]
Dragging the toe of your shiny leather loafers along your left calf to help pull your white stockings back up, that had ridden down, pooling around your ankle, you found yourself lingering in front of the Chun-Ah Arts High School, reluctant to make your way inside, waiting to see if you would be able to see him again. You were sure you two were in different grades so you never really got to see him during school hours and knew that seeking him out then would be futile. But sometimes, you would get lucky in the mornings before he headed to the east where the school gymnasium and fields were and you headed to homeroom since you didn’t have any friends to hang out with in the mornings.
You had run away to Seoul two days after your fifteenth birthday, after getting an offer to become a trainee at a small entertainment company known as Big Shot, much to the displeasure of your rich family living in Daegu. They could hardly comprehend why you would want to throw away a life of security and wealth all on the pipe dream of becoming an idol. When you had moved to Seoul, your family had kicked you out of the will and taken away your trust fund, telling you that you would no longer be associated with the Min’s hotel chain legacy. 
The thought of your family made a wry smirk take over your lips; when you had dropped out of the Jeong Finishing School for Exemplary Girls, the first female in your family in generations to leave the school without honors, your family thought you had ruined your future. Little did they know, you would be starting your second semester of sophomore year at the fancy Chun-Ah Arts school in Seoul. 
When you first started at Big Shot, you had quickly realized that maybe you had been naive and living in a privileged bubble, having to dorm in a studio apartment with ten other girls. The type of jealousy and backbiting at the agency was different from the kind you had experienced in your all-girls school. Here the fights weren’t about boyfriends or stealing one of a kind Dior sweaters to dump in bright red paint for revenge. The sabotage was more physical, with girls trying to claw their way to the top to be the stand out talent in a group line up. The mind games were more psychological, with girls doing anything and everything to undermine each other’s evaluations, hoping to be that rare, that special individual, who would be considered talented enough to potentially debut as a solo artist. 
And then, as more trainees came in, soon there wasn’t enough time for the vocal coaches to teach everyone better vocal techniques, for the choreographers to help the struggling trainees memorize their dances, for songwriters to help aspiring rappers find their flow and improve their lyricalities. You were on the brink of getting cut and being thrown out on the street homeless, when your cousin Yoongi, the black sheep of the family, who was struggling to make his own dreams of becoming a music producer suggested that you apply to Chun-Ah as a scholarship student and make use of their renowned music department where it had famous retired vocalists and dancers as the teachers. With Yoongi’s help you were able to prepare for the entrance exam, excel in the interview and performance portions and even write a heartbreaking story of how you were a homeless youth who had been kicked out of her family for wanting to pursue her dreams. 
You had impressed the academy’s admissions panel greatly, allowing you to enter the school midway through the year, but since entering, you kept finding yourself disappointed with how things were at the school. For one thing, you would have thought with how rigorous and extensive the application process was, not to mention how expensive the application, uniforms, and tuition were, your classmates would have been more talented. You weren’t expecting them to be Maria Callas or Joshua Bell or Michael Jackson, but you did think they would be a little more talented than Vine dancers, Youtube song cover singers, and garage band musicians. Especially for individuals whose parents were part of the one percent and could afford to give them the best tutors and tools to excel. But on your second day of school, to your immense dismay, you found a sophomore abusing his 300 year old Stradivarius violin in front of the school’s giant Grecian inspired water fountain by basically grating the bow against the strings with how roughly he was playing﹣no scratch that﹣handling the instrument. 
It didn’t take you long to realize the sham that was the Chun-Ah Arts High School. The school created fake competitions with arbitrary rules where they would divide the winners for each category based on the biggest donors to the institute. It wasn’t based on talent at all. And based on these awards and accreditations buffeting their resumes and applications to illustrious foreign universities, the students at Chun-Ah would be able to get into the Fine Arts, Visual and Performing Arts, Theater, and Athletics departments, more easily than they would’ve been able to get into the more exclusive medical, law, or business departments and then easily change their majors once they were already accepted. 
If only you had known about the USA college admissions scandal that would become uncovered a few years later, which would reveal some of the more shady things that foreign students had done to get accepted with their American classmates. Of course, not everyone at Chun-Ah was a bad egg trying to take advantage of the system, but there were definitely enough that had you raising an eyebrow. You were sure you would have been angerier if you actually wanted the number one class rank, if you knew about the exam keys that could be bribed off of teachers manipulating the entire class rank system, but you were just here to hone your skills as a singer and performer so you generally left it alone.
That didn’t mean that you were excited to go to school each day though, there was bullying and backbiting at the agency and there was also more of the same at the school. Sure the rich kids and starving artists played by different rules and prized different things, but they all hated you, the common denominator. Every time you saw a girl laugh behind her palm at your ill-fitting uniform or make fun of the fact that you were a scholarship student, you couldn’t help but think to yourself how glad you were to have removed yourself from that life. If they had realized the Min in your last name stood for one of the most powerful families in not only Daegu but the entire country, you were sure they would’ve changed their tone quickly and begged to be your friends. Personally you were glad that your newfound poverty made them remove that mask of civility they donned for other people in their circle. 
But then you had discovered the voice, the tipping point of the scale that made you prefer school to the company and lie to your manager that you were taking extra lessons after school. During morning announcements one day, a period where you usually spend your time looking out the window and counting all the falling dead brown leaves in the winter, the school choir had been invited to sing the school anthem before Sports Day. There was a voice that stood apart from the rest. It was a male tenor, whose voice was soft and lyrical, a bright angelic tone following his words and painting it with a soothing harmony. You were immediately captivated, because not only was this your first exposure to real raw talent in the school but also because of the hypnotic beauty to the voice. You immediately found yourself wanting to know who it belonged to, and with a little eavesdropping of your classmates, you found out that it belonged to a mister “Jungkook,” according to Hair Spray Helmet and her minions Excessive Lip Gloss Applier and Overplucked Eyebrows, who all sighed dreamily as they fawned over him.
To your dismay, Jungkook was not only talented but also exceedingly attractive. The male would always wear either a gray or black Comme Des Garcons hoodie under his school jacket and occasionally have a red slouchy beanie perched on his head, in a devastating combination of prep and rockstar. His black gauges and staple wheat colored Timberlands were all it really took to cement your infatuation with him. And as a teenage girl with no family, who had to deal with the struggles of an idol trainee, you would take whatever small joys you would find wherever you could find them.
Today Jungkook was later than usual and as the first warning bell rang, you found yourself worrying your bottom lip with your teeth, wondering if you should already head into class to avoid getting a penalty mark on your record. As you had finally made up your mind, he ran past you, almost barreling you down as he tugged a much shorter girl behind him. The female looked fragile and angelic, probably the most beautiful person you had ever seen, excluding Jungkook but he was a male. You bit the inside of your cheek, tasting blood and swallowing it down, you found your gaze hardening in their direction as you made your own way to homeroom, which you were now late to thanks to him.
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Fifteen minutes ago, when Jungkook was by his sister’s side and not waiting for his wife to come out of the restroom, he had been congratulating his sister for how well her marriage had been going, only two years in. His sister deserved happiness and she had found it with Jimin and their daughter in their new home. The pair had moved to the States before Jieun had been born as Jimin got an offer to be a Korean American pharmaceutical company’s COO. 
“How’s your marriage going with Y/N, we’ve never had a moment alone where I could check in with you,” his sister asked, smiling as she absentmindedly fiddled around with the two row diamond encrusted band of her gold Harry Winston wedding ring. “I know it’s still in its early stages. But, you like her right? So it must be going more smoothly than mine and Jimin’s was at the beginning. And I’m really sorry I missed it.”
Jungkook painted his face with what he hoped was a believable look of happiness and contentment, he didn’t need his younger sister to worry over him. “We’re fine. Y/N is just really busy all the time. You know how she’s a producer at HYP.E, and ever since father has been giving me more and more responsibilities at the company I’ve been busy too. We’re fine, we just haven’t really been able to see each other too much. It’s fine ___, maybe we’ll do a vow renewal one day and you can be there for that.”
“Right of course, that must be why we’ve barely been able to see her this past week without her getting swept away only moments after,” his sister nodded, “A vow renewal, that sounds nice.” Her smile looked a little forced after his answer, but she continued the conversation, “I have to thank you guys for getting Jieun so many presents. Frankly I think it’s a little much, but Jimin’s all for it. He thinks Jieun-ie deserves the world. But in between your presents that you dropped off at the house earlier and the shipments we’ve been getting the past two weeks from Y/N you both went all out. You really didn’t have to. She’s a growing toddler, spending thousands of dollars on shoes and dresses she can’t wear in two months is a little much.”
That must’ve been what you had gotten for his niece. Until this moment Jungkook hadn’t even known you would bother; he had thought to make up for what he thought would be your absence by signing off on gifts in both your names. 
“Did Jieun enjoy the toys I dropped off?” Jungkook asked, rubbing his palms together. His wedding band glinted on his left hand, mocking him.
“That tricycle you dropped off terrifies Jimin. He doesn’t want to let her on it, he thinks it’s a death trap.”
“No, no,” Jungkook protested, “It’s completely safe, it just looks badass and is also electric. She’s gonna be the coolest kid in her neighborhood as soon as she learns to take more than two steps without falling and can actually ride that thing.”
“Jimin’s very protective you know,” his sister murmured, a soft smile on her lips, “I think he’ll be more open to the bike in a couple of years.”
“I don’t blame him,” muttered Jungkook, “I would be protective too, if I had so much I cared for.”
“Oh she’s asking for me,” his sister exclaimed, it seemed that even half a room away, her eyes were always on her daughter. “Do you want to come with me? She loves her Uncle Googie.”
Jungkook let out an amused chortle, “Nah it’s fine. I think Jimin’s threatened by how much she likes me.” He stiffened his jaw and put on theatrics, popping his collar in self-admiration. 
“Don’t,” she protested. His sister clapped a hand over her mouth, covering up her accidental giggles, that kept easily slipping out. She had missed being able to converse and laugh with her brother, the one downside of moving away from home. “I don’t want him getting into another existential crisis that our children won’t like him. The nine months I was pregnant were hell.”
Jungkook’s responding chuckle was light and airy, “I’m just having some fun. You guys are great parents. Jieun is really lucky,” he admitted. “I think I am actually going to go look for Y/N, she’s missing out on all this familial fun. I’ll be sure to find you later when you’re getting Jieun ready for the cake cutting.”
“We’ll probably end up cutting the cake ourselves,” his sister admitted drily, “I don’t intend to have a knife in my one year old’s hand for longer than necessary. But, when you find Y/N, bring her around. We’d love to get a couple of pictures with the family to mark the occasion.”
But that was then. Right now, he was leaning against the gilded wallpaper that lined the walls of the hallway, a beautiful spread of cloudy white with cherubic angels that were adorned with golden halos and harps. There were multiple powder rooms that had been converted for public use, and you had spent way more time than he would’ve thought in the restroom. He was considering asking the next person to come by to ask you if you were alright in there since you weren’t answering his texts, but for now he would just have to scroll through the barrage of unread emails he still had sitting in his work inbox. 
Meanwhile in the powder room, you were making use of the serpentine shaped tête-à-tête that lined the center of the room, providing seating for those who needed a break from the partying, you supposed. It worked out well for you actually; instead of having to sit over an open toilet in your seven thousand dollar dress, not even the fancy toilets in Chateau French le French had lids on them, scrolling through your phone, you could just do it out in the open where sink area had seats in the middle. The smell of linen and potpourri was overwhelming, but you’d do anything to wait out your husband until he got bored enough and left. You opened up the snow app and took a few pictures with the flower halo filter, sending them off to the HYP.E producer group chat you had with your work colleagues, individuals you’d found yourself to consider like friends. 
Lee Sunmi Unni ♡: So cute Y/N
Min Yoongi (work): I thought this was a baby shower
Min Y/N: it’s my niece’s first birthday party
You scowled, your cousin was annoyingly and intentionally uncomprehending at times.
Min Yoongi (work): where is baby??
Min Yoongi (work): cake???
POTY Kim Namjoon: I know this is the fun group chat where we try to avoid talking about work things
POTY Kim Namjoon: Y/N you need to put out a fire for the new Stray Together album. They’ve suddenly decided that the second digital single won’t work after all. I’ve tried to help the situation, switching around the lyrics, adding more of a synthe vibe to the song. They hate it.
POTY Kim Namjoon: How soon do you think you could come back?
Finally. An excuse. You sighed in relief although you knew that redoing the second digital single completely from scratch would be a headache and a half this late in the game. But you would rather spend every moment of your waking and sleeping hours in the HYP.E building rather than spending another second in America with Jungkook, pretending you were the picture perfect newly wed couple.
Min Y/N: If you buy me the earliest redeye out of here, I can leave tonight and be back before noon tomorrow.
POTY Kim Namjoon: I’ll let the business manager know and handle the expense. See you soon Y/N. 
POTY Kim Namjoon: Sorry for cutting the party short.
Min Y/N: anything for the company 
Min Yoongi (work): ::eye roll::
After that message, you slid your cellphone back into the vividly dark blue clutch you had chosen for the evening. Taking a moment to tidy up your dress, the skirt had shifted around while you were comfortably ensconced in the cozy mustard yellow velvet seats of the tête-à-tête, you absentmindedly wondered if you should blot and powder your face, perhaps freshen up that pale pink MAC lipstick you had painting your lips. Anything to get through the tedious minutes at the party until Namjoon’s business manager emailed you the flight confirmation that had the departure time, you supposed. 
Jungkook, that oblivious husband of yours had picked steak for both of your meals for the evening, even though you had abstained from eating red meat at the wedding, due to your sensitivity to red meat. It wasn’t as though you were a vegan but you did avoid eating meat when there were alternatives. There had been a fancy lobster option too, your favorite, but you supposed you would have to have to do with the vegetable medley and creamy potato and mushroom side. As a grumble overtook your stomach, you wondered what the cake flavor was to celebrate your niece’s first birthday. Could one year olds even eat cake? Were they still breastfed? It was a good thing you were never going to let Jungkook touch you. You weren’t completely sure that you would make a great mother. Jungkook and you as parents was a recipe for disaster, your children would end up needing lifelong therapy.
To your utter disappointment, and he knew it too if the instant dimming of his features were anything to go by when he saw the deep scowl painting your face, Jungkook was still there waiting for you when you finally made it out. He peeled himself away from the opposite wall, his hair looking a little softer and more rumpled deeper into the evening. 
“Are you okay?” he asked, frowning. “You took a while in there, I was starting to worry. I think I even contemplated asking one of the ladies waiting in line to go check up on you.”
You scowled, your eyebrows turning into an angry vee, with flashing eyes you hissed, “I’m on my period, you asshole.”
Jungkook stilled in embarrassment, “O-oh, I’m s-sorry.” he stuttered, “I didn’t, I didn’t mean to humiliate you. I was just worried that you had gotten injured or you were in trouble or something.”
“In the ladies’ room?” you scoffed incredulously. You sniffed and picked up the pace, heading for the dining area; you knew Jungkook would just follow in your footsteps, like the well trained dog he thought himself to be.
Almost as though Jungkook had heard your condemning thoughts, he lengthened his strides so that he was half a step of you while walking to your left. “We’re sitting with my sister and her family,” he notified you. 
He was attempting to take back control, not that you would hand it over so easily.
You stopped abruptly in the middle of the hallway at his words. “Tell me something, Jeon, do you think I’m an idiot?”
Jungkook furrowed his brows at you, “Why would I think you were an idiot? Y/N, can you please stop picking fights with me? At least while we’re in public? I don’t understand what I ever did to earn your ire.”
You laughed hollowly, “You don’t, huh? Well let me educate you: I would prefer to live my life pretending you don’t exist, but somehow you seem to be against that idea.”
“Well, of course I am, Y/N. I’m attempting to make our marriage work,” Jungkook retorted.
You held your tongue and started to walk again, just another hour or so and you wouldn’t have to see him anymore, you comforted yourself. When you guys finally found yourselves in the dining area, Jungkook’s sister and her husband were gesturing at you two to go to their table which was placed on a podium that made their seats a little higher than everyone else’s and visible to the entirety of the room. Feeling spiteful, you pulled out your own chair before Jungkook could do it for you. The Parks, excluding the baby, stared at you two in bewilderment as Jungkook sullenly took his seat next to you. Your niece was belted into a high chair and let out a cry when she realized no one was paying attention to her. 
“Jieun-ie what’s wrong? You want Appa to hold you?” Jimin asked. You thought he was four years older than Jungkook, though you were not entirely sure as he hadn’t attended your wedding and was usually at work when Jungkook would force you to visit his sister and niece, which would make him about five years older than you, if your math was correct. The male looked dashingly handsome in his head to toe black Prada ensemble, a skinny dark tie contrasted his white button down that only peeked out at the top behind his closed suit jacket. His honey blond hair was slicked away from his forehead revealing a gorgeous hairline. You admired his nerve, rocking bleached hair, dangly Chrome Hearts cross earrings that adorned his ears, and chunky silver rings lined his right hand, leaving his left empty except for its wedding band, two layers of yellow and white gold that complimented his wife's golden ring. Jimin didn’t play by the same rules that the corporate assholes in Korea did, even Jungkook had gotten rid of his gauges when he had accepted his position at Jeon Pharmaceuticals, and you thought it made him look badass. Your niece had lucked out with some pretty awesome parents when they were so rare in the circles that you all kept with. 
“Abba no,” Jieun pouted, was that her name? You had honestly forgotten it. The toddler’s plump pale pink lips formed a little chick beak with every word she said as she attempted to enunciate to the best of her abilities.
“Appa,” Jimin said patiently, holding eye contact with Jieun. The tot’s face scrunched up and you felt like she was seconds away from a meltdown; if Jimin said the wrong thing one more time, it would be game over.
His wife sensed it too, which was why she immediately interrupted the silent war between father and daughter, “Or perhaps Jieun wants to have fun with someone new? She must be tired of us monopolizing her all the time, Jimin-ah. Jungkook oppa, would you like to hold her? Or you, unni?” she asked.
“M-Me?” you stuttered in surprise when everyone’s attention at the table went to you, “Um, maybe later when she’s a little older.” 
“So, maybe, on her real birthday next Tuesday?” she said agreeably. 
“May-Maybe,” you stammered. You didn’t even remember the last time you had held a child. Jieun was definitely the last child you were near, but before her, you didn’t think you had been around one since your cousin Sunye had given birth when you were in middle school.
“Jieun you wanna sit in Uncle Googie’s lap?” Jungkook asked the toddler, focusing his sparkling doe eyes on her. He stretched out his arms and to his delight, Jieun stretched hers out too, babbling “Googie, Googie,” as she stared, enraptured at her uncle.
His sister helped remove her from the high chair so that she could sit comfortably in Jungkook’s arms as the table waited for the servers to come around. But before they did, Jimin stood up and held out a hand to help his wife up so they could thank everyone for coming and give a short toast to their daughter. 
When the waiter put the filet mignon in front of you, you sighed glumly and wondered if you had past your threshold of wine for the evening. Sitting in the powder room had sobered you a bit, but you knew that you were going to have a massive hangover the next day. Though Jungkook was distracted with Jieun, it appeared that your sister-in-law had noticed that you were moving your food around with your fork, not really eating anything.
“What’s wrong?” she whispered, “Is the filet mignon not cooked to your liking?”
“I don’t really eat red meat,” you admitted, “I have a sensitivity to it.” 
“Oh, I didn’t know,” she worried, “We had vegetarian options too. Would you like me to go to the kitchen and ask the chef if he can wrestle up something for you? I don’t want you to go hungry.”
You smiled wanly, “It’s fine ___, I have to fly out later tonight to catch a flight back home to put out some fires at work. I’ll eat something in the waiting area or in flight.”
You felt Jungkook turn around, his stare burning through you, but you refused to acknowledge him. What did he care if you were going to South Korea early? It wasn’t as thought you two slept in the same bed or kept the same schedule.
“That could be hours from now,” his sister fretted, “Switch plates with me, Y/N. I got the lobster if you enjoy seafood. I had to give up being vegetarian during my pregnancy due to my anemia, and you know, I still struggle with my iron levels, the steak will be good for me.There’s nothing like a well done steak to compliment such an important occasion.”
“Um okay,” you said hesitantly. There was no way you were going to eat your plate and you had been thinking about the lobster all night. Your sister-in-law didn’t look too sad over exchanging plates either. You thought nothing of the exchange, so focused were you on enjoying your meal and avoiding the table’s conversation until she went to talk to the caterers about the cake and Jimin deserted the table, taking Jieun from Jungkook’s arms, to make his rounds as the host, ensuring that everyone was enjoying their meals and interacting with the guest of honor.
“Why did you do that,” Jungkook asked coldly, “You could have told me you didn’t like red meat when I was signing the RSVP. Look at their plates, she hasn’t touched the beef at all.”
You looked up from where you were dipping a piece of lobster into the delicious butter sauce, “You never asked me. You assumed what I wanted, just like you always assumed what I wanted. We had steak for our wedding luncheon too. I never ate a bite of it. But of course you never noticed it.”
There was a tiny pinprick of guilt in your gut when you noticed that her plate had been pushed towards her husband’s. Jimin had finished his filet it appeared, and was trying to help his wife with hers so no food was wasted. There was a piece of steak still speared to her fork and you noticed that her knife was lying next to where she had made the cut into the filet mignon. The center of the meat had a reddish hue to it. You blinked, it was medium rare. Hadn’t ___ said she was looking forward to eating your well-done steak? Ah, there it was: the deepening remorse you had been desperately trying to avoid earlier. You suddenly realized that she must have gone to the caterer’s not only to talk about the cake cutting time but also because she was famished and wanted a little something to nibble on.
“It’s not my fault,” you sniffed callously, “___ offered it to me.” You were not going to let Jungkook blame this on you. 
“You’re leaving tonight,” he asked.
“I am not talking about this with you right now,” you spat, “we’re at a party.”
Jungkook’s jaw hardened until there was a stubborn set to it, his lips were pressed tightly together, that little mole underneath his bottom lip contrasting sharply with his pale skin, “I am not letting this go, Y/N, you are not leaving before we talk about this, even if the conversation has to take place in the car before you’re dropped off at the airport.”
“It would be more convenient for you to ride home with your sister’s family.  Haven’t they offered you a room while you stick around for Jieun’s actual birthday?” you drawled, “you’re only wasting your time if you get into the car with me, Jeon.”
Jungkook glowered, a lock of his dark hair falling over his eyes, “Actually no it wouldn’t be, because you turned down their offer to house us and I couldn’t stay with them, leaving my new wife in a hotel by herself, unless I wanted them to think that my marriage was already in trouble. Did you forget the person you are sharing that large suite at the Ritz-Carlton with?”
You let out a faint snort, “Our marriage is in trouble. By the way did I tell you? I want a divorce.” You laughed again mockingly, “Although, it’s never been consummated, so truly we should really be seeking an annulment. But I doubt you want that news to get out. So a divorce, it is. I’m tired of this bullshit, I’ll deal with whatever fallout there is, after the fact. I refuse to be shackled to you any longer,” you spewed venomously.
Jungkook stared at you; doe eyes giant in their surprise, mouth gaping in shock with bunny teeth visible in between thinned lips. Before he could so much as retort, the host’s table was suddenly full again with the Parks presence. 
“Who wants to eat some cake?” Jimin asked, holding a sheathed knife adorned with a bow in his hand. Two waiters were pushing a multi-tiered rustic cake adorned with fruit and bare of frosting on the sides. A naked cake you scowled, how disgusting. Why would they make a child eat a boring concoction of dry vanilla chiffon, probably sour unripe fruit, and deflating whipped cream? Where was the rich german chocolate and fudge frosting that you, yourself used to yearn for as a child and did so even now.
“Actually,” you interrupted, patting your mouth dry with a napkin and standing up, “I’m afraid I’ll have to take my leave a little earlier than expected. I’m sure I’ll have another opportunity to enjoy cake with you all in the future.”
“Uh, yes of course,” your sister-in-law faltered, she looked in between you and Jungkook for answers, trying to catch either of your eyes, but you knew she would not gain any insight, definitely not from you and not now from Jungkook. She would have to at least wait until after the guests had left at the very earliest, for a moment when she could have a bit of privacy with her brother.
“Would you two be a dear and drive him home after the party? Oh actually,” you mused, in seemingly deep thought, “Could you two take him home with you, I’d feel awfully guilty about Jungkook staying all alone in our giant hotel room after I’ve left.”
“Yes, of course,” agreed ___. “Jungkook oppa, spend the rest of your time here in our home! Jieun would love to get to spend more time with you before you had to leave for Korea. And you know, I would love it too.”
“Well it looks like that’s settled,” you fixed a giant fake smile on your face, “You all have to get together with us the next time you’re back in the country. Saengil chukhahaeyo, Jieun-ie. Bye bye, sweetheart.” Your farewell was for the darling child and Jungkook knew it from the frown that got deeper and darker, although your sister-in-law and her husband would just think that you were doting on your husband.
You left without looking back although you knew that despite you getting further and further with each step of your nude Louboutins, Jungkook’s hard glare to your back never faltered.
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[eight-ish years ago]
Jungkook hated university. His parents had turned down his offers at Seoul National, Korea, and Yonsei universities after the half of dozen acceptances that he had gotten from schools abroad. The most prestigious of the batch? Stanford University, where Jungkook had gotten into the business program, which had a heavy conversion rate of students then getting into the university’s MBA program for graduate school. As the son of the CEO of the biggest pharmaceutical company in South Korea, and soon of all the four tiger countries if the expansion went as his father planned, Jungkook was expected to follow in his footsteps. After flying through his school courses at an accelerated rate, he was expected to move back to Seoul and take over the mantle at the company, just like his father wanted. His father would remain on the board of directors to keep Jungkook firmly under his thumb, but the plan was to have Jungkook take over the CEO position before he turned twenty-five.
But he hated university so vehemently. Getting a 110 on his TOEFL, acing his SATs, and even being on International Baccalaureate hadn’t really helped Jungkook understand the nuances of English language outside of an academic setting. And even though he understood 80-85% of what his classmates were saying to him, he didn’t always understand the slang, which would leave him scratching his head. Stanford undergrads did not speak the way his English tutor did, but then again the man had been a middle-aged Oxford graduate with a PhD in British Literature, who had moved to Korea after having a midlife crisis that had him chasing Asian women half his age in his spare time. 
His roommates were also kind of mean, although Jungkook wasn’t entirely certain if it was intentional or not. They talked too fast and when he would try to converse with them, they would stare at him blankly, making Jungkook stammer into a stop, self-conscious of his accent. 
He didn’t know why they hated him so much. At first he had thought it was racism, but then Jungkook had realized that one of them was an engineering student who had a full-ride scholarship and the other was a firmly middle class economics major that had taken out excessive student loans to attend Stanford. So in his attempt to be a more understanding roommate, sympathetic to their socioeconomic struggles, Jungkook had started offering them meals out on his dime or trips to San Francisco, where Jungkook would drive them and pay for everything they did. If anything however, that had just made the resentment build even more. Jungkook seemed to have hurt their pride.
Outside of the cold front that existed in his dorm suite, Jungkook was struggling a bit with his courses. He liked math the best because it was all numbers, no words. Nothing could get lost in translation there; there was nothing he could possibly misinterpret. But the first essay he had written, he had gotten back with an angry red C+ on the front. He had been horrified; in all his IB courses he had never once gotten anything less than a 92%. He hadn’t thought that his high school teachers had ever graded him more leniently. He had always done well in the written portions of his standardized tests too. But this professor who he was dealing with, was unaccommodating, even when Jungkook went to every single office hour. He was just about to start pulling his hair out in frustration. The professor didn’t understand how determined Jungkook was to do well in this class; he also didn’t understand what would happen to Jungkook if he didn’t do well in this class. 
Sighing, Jungkook folded up his Samsung Galaxy Book, lunch time was close to ending and then the dining halls would be closed for two hours to prepare for dinner. He wasn’t really in the mood to walk into town to grab something to eat either. He got up from his desk and stretched, their dorm had the worst natural lighting in all of the residential halls, with all of its windows facing another six story building that felt like it was only ten feet away. 
He grabbed his key card because one time he had forgotten it, and instead of responding to his texts and letting him into the room, one of his roommates had taken advantage of the fact that Jungkook wouldn’t be able to get in, by having a girl over. Jungkook had ended up needing to ask the floor’s residential advisor to let him in with the master key. The fine he had to pay was nothing to Jungkook, who kept getting weekly deposits to his account from his parents. But the RA had opened the door and the first thing they both could smell was the musty scent of sex, and then as Jungkook walked into the shoebox room, he saw his roommate having sex with a girl on the bottom bunk. The girl had screamed and ran out, wrapping her body with his roommate’s sheets, past Jungkook and the RA who glowered at both offenders and said his roommate and the girl would be getting written up for having the opposite gender in the room and being in the room of the opposite gender with the door closed, just adding to the list of reasons that Jungkook’s roommates hated him.
At least the weather was nice today, he thought, as he walked up the hill to the Stern dining hall. Jungkook was getting really tired of American food; he would do anything for some of his mom’s kimchi and samgaetang right now. The last time he had been able to enjoy Korean food had been the farewell breakfast his mother had prepared for him before his plane ride to San Jose International Airport. He hadn’t ventured out to find the Bay Area’s Koreatown yet for two reasons: the first, he genuinely did not think he would get homesick so fast and the second, he was wary of interacting with NorCal’s Korean population because everyone knew everyone and he didn’t want any form of gossip or news about him getting back to his parents besides what he told them on his weekly phone calls home. 
It was the same reason why a month into the fall quarter, Jungkook was still relatively friendless besides the one or two friends he had made for each lecture to study together. His classmates didn’t generally hang out with him outside of that, though he had been making attempts to get closer, and he thought that sometimes it was succeeding. He found out that Bambam liked to play Overwatch like he did and they had talked about playing together sometime, although they hadn’t yet. There was a ready-made group of friends for him in the form of other Korean international students that were in the same circles as him and his family but moving to California was a breath of fresh air and Jungkook didn’t want to restrain himself any more than he had to. But making friends with complete strangers, even when he so desperately wanted to, was much harder, especially when Jungkook was so shy and an introvert.
He grabbed a tray inside of Stern, putting a heavily stacked cheeseburger on it, grabbing a Caesar salad side dish, and some garlic parmesan shoestring fries, he was ready to sit down. Ah, another conundrum, the dining halls were always full of students, with more waiting to be let in, so you would always have to sit with strangers. No one really seemed to mind when Jungkook asked if he could join their tables, but Jungkook preferred empty tables or ones with just one other occupant, it made him feel less like an outsider that was encroaching on a friend group.
“Can I sit here?” Jungkook asked, standing in front of those tiny tables that sat two. The person sitting in the other chair was wearing a monochromatic set of sweats in mustard yellow. He had a half eaten burrito bowl in front of him and was deeply immersed in the book that he was reading. The cover was a soothing amalgamation of natural browns and green, a black bowler hat was levitating above a sepia toned landscape that had a building in the distance. Jungkook squinted trying to make out the title, The Unbearable Lightness of Being, huh.
The male looked up, using his index finger to save his place, “Sure go ahead.” 
The two ate in relative silence although Jungkook’s neighbor was reading more so than eating, really. But at one point, he must’ve reached the point he was trying to read to, because he put down the book and returned to his burrito bowl with vigor, his eyes staring at Jungkook, burning holes through him until he decided to look up and acknowledge.
“Can I ask you something?” the man asked.
“Um sure,” stammered Jungkook nervously, he had a feeling that the male was not a freshman like he was, with how relaxed he looked in the dining hall, he looked like he belonged at Stanford unlike Jungkook.
“Do you like Korean food?” he asked, “The food here makes me want to gag, but I had to meet up with my group for a project, and couldn’t eat anything for hours. I felt like I was going to faint. There was no way I could make it anywhere further than here without refueling.”
“Um yes,” Jungkook replied, he had been eating around his burger, avoiding the heavily sauce drenched parts. He had no idea what ingredients made up the reddish white sauce but it was disgusting. 
“Cool, you wanna go into Ktown for dinner?” he asked, “I know this great soup place that’s dirt cheap. We all gotta save money somehow.”
Jungkook stared at him, dirt cheap? He didn’t know Jungkook was Jeon Jungkook; he didn’t know Jungkook was rich. “How did you know I was Korean?” he asked instead.
“I didn’t,” he shrugged, “I try not to guess where someone is from. You just looked like someone who would enjoy eating more than just American food day after day. Also, you’ve barely touched your meal.”
The salad was worse than the burger and the fries had tasted old and stale, “Um okay, we can go to dinner,” Jungkook eagerly agreed, “Or we could even go now, unless you’re busy.”
“No I’m fine, let’s go,” he said standing up with his tray, ready to dispose of everything, “My name is Namjoon by the way. Kim Namjoon.”
“Jeon Jungkook,” Jungkook replied, also standing up, watching carefully to see if Namjoon’s face would change as he suddenly realized what family Jungkook was related to. Nothing changed however, maybe Namjoon was Korean American, thought Jungkook, hoping hard he wouldn’t have to lose his new friend.
Namjoon laughed sheepishly, “So here’s the thing about me, I don’t drive and I think the bus won’t be here for another hour or so, so how about we take some bikes?”
Jungkook held his tongue, should he offer up his car? But then sophisticated worldly Namjoon would know that Jungkook was rich and start forming certain impressions of him.
As Jungkook stood there contemplating, Namjoon interrupted his thoughts, “Yeah sorry, it’s not really hyung-like of me to not have a car but I’ll pay for your bike.”
“I guess then I’ll pay for our meals,” offered Jungkook.
“No, I invited you, it’s my treat.”
“But hyung﹣”
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When you got off the plane, without even changing, your studio in the HYP.E building was the first place you went. There were a few eyebrows raised amongst the other employees as they saw you walking into the office at ten in the morning dressed to the nines in your fancy Alexander McQueen gown, but they said nothing and you were able to ignore them as you got into the elevator. 
Your computer took longer to boot up than you would have liked, but when you were finally able to have the file open, listening over the song you were forced to admit to yourself that there was indeed something lacking about it. The beat was too generic, too safe so to speak. You had no idea how to fix it without looking at Namjoon’s notes.
Fortunately, the man had emailed you a list of things that everything Stray Together’s main team had taken issue with for the second single. You looked over the lyrics for “God’s Hour,” the songwriting seemed to be a little too harsh for the disco and dance beat that was underlying it. The upbeatness of the song was already there and the lyrics seemed to encourage an intense rise to action too, but maybe there needed to be more instruments, a drum beat thrown under the rapid fire pace of Felix’s rapping, more synthe when Taehyun used his honey vocals. Perhaps you needed to lean more into the R&B vibe, play a little more into the hip-hop that the lyrics seemed to beg for, make it less ethereal and disco. The energy would have to remain the same however, this song was nothing if not a pumped up dance track. 
You were hunched over the desk for hours, working on the song until you noticed that it was almost two in the afternoon on the blinking neon numbers of your digital wall clock. It was a gift from Glitzy, the rookie girl group under HYP.E; you thought it came from their season’s greetings package this year but you weren’t too sure. You hadn’t had anything to eat or drink since you’d inhaled a small bag of cashews right before your plane had landed. Your stomach was growling and letting its presence known. 
Where was your intern? Surely the shuffling of the high school and college age interns between departments and producers hadn’t happened yet. It was still the spring, the summer batch hadn’t come in yet. You didn’t want to move, you wish someone else was here to take care of the smaller menial tasks for you. You definitely needed a large to-go cup of scalding black coffee and perhaps you could order a delivery of your favorite vegan ramen from that Japanese place three blocks away. 
Your finger was hovering over the submit order page of the delivery app when your door got unceremoniously flung open. Yoongi flopped over the small two seat sofa you had along the back wall for when artists need to come in your studio to work with you, or there are more than three people in the room. 
“Can I help you?” you asked, staring at your cousin. He was a grown man, of thirty-one (you had just celebrated his birthday last month) and he was throwing a tantrum in your room like a child.
Yoongi allowed himself a few more moments of flinging his arms around and kicking his feet before he covered his face with one of the cushions and screamed loudly into it. The cushion, a cute one of a blue koala, courtesy of a partnership Namjoon had had with LINE, was still on his face when he grumbled against it, “upper management wants the idols to have more involvement with the album. Says it doesn’t feel raw enough because they’ve barely done anything on the creative side of things.”
You could have been a bitch and played the devil’s advocate, going against your cousin and saying mockingly, ‘Well isn’t that good? The artists should play a role on the producing side.” But you knew what Yoongi meant. Most of the songs were around 70-80% complete, they just needed a couple of finishing touches, letting the idols mess around with them now could make everything have to go back to the drawing board and start afresh if any of the songs got any worse after their participation.
“Bang Chan was heavily involved with the songwriting for God’s Hour,” you offered, “Why don’t you let them work on their songwriting. Or you could do what I do. I just have Soobin sit in the room with me while I work on their album. He offers suggestions and I try them out. Sometimes it works and sometimes it doesn’t but it’s enough to get him listed on the credits as a producer.”
Yoongi sneered, “Ah yes, why don’t I have a bunch of teenagers just consolidate in my tiny ass studio and have them give me suggestions. What could possibly go wrong when Beomgyu and Minho are in the same room.”
You rolled your eyes, “Don’t be so disagreeably obtuse. You know what I meant. Get Yeonjun or Jisung to do something.”
“Hmph,” sniffed Yoongi, “Why are you still wearing that? You should go change.”
You glared at him but he was right; it had been bothersome getting your feet pinched by your red bottom high heels and though the dress was made of a comfortable material, it’s shape didn’t allow you to have a wide range of motion. You went to the invisible cabinets that lined one of the walls of your windowless studio. You usually kept a change of clothes or two due to the amount of time you spent at the company. You even slept here when you were particularly in the zone. 
“I’ll be back, but maybe you won’t be when I am,” you rudely suggested, urging him to silently leave.
“Or maybe I will,” Yoongi grunted, tossing the pillow over his head again. His long legs were hanging over the sofa’s arms so you took the chance to kick his shins as you passed. 
You stopped outside the door, your phone in your hand. You couldn’t remember if you had actually submitted the order to the restaurant and were trying to check it when you overheard the conversation that was flowing towards your direction from the two people that were walking down the hall.
“Ah Ryujin, you really got the bottom of the barrel this time for concepts didn’t you?” tutted Yun Benzo, one third of CEOs of the company, and in your opinion the most irredeemable and misogynistic one.
“Ah, sajangnim, I don’t think that,” Ryujin commented politely, “The company always picks great concepts for every comeback, I’m very thankful.”
“Still,” murmured Benzo, “You look horrible, that hair is too short. You look like your boyfriend broke up with you after leading you on with the promise of marriage for years. It looks like a poorly executed revenge cut.”
“Ah, well I don’t know about that, I think I pull off short hair relatively well,” Ryujin effused, trying hard to balance her tone between humility and confidence, striving to sound charming enough to not be seen as conceited by this sexist prick.
They were passing you when you blurted, “Hello sajangnim, Ryujin. Is that your new look for the mini album? It really suits you.”
“Oh unni! You’re back!” cheered Ryujin, “Will you be watching our countdown stage?”
“Of course I will,” you assented, “I worked hard on that album.”
Benzo looked you up and down icily, “I don’t know if you should be taking beauty advice from her. Ryujin, ask your coordinators and stylists if you can get extensions for that big stage.”
The fake smile on your face froze and you hugged the bag with your change of clothes. “You know I think I actually forgot something in my studio. It was good seeing you both,” you inclined your head in a show of respect before turning back to the door.
Yoongi looked up at surprise, “That was fast, how did you﹣oh,” he abruptly trailed of his train of thought, noticing that you were still in the same clothes.
“I forgot something,” you insisted. And then you walked over to your table where you had ceramic containers holding copious amounts of stationery. Your fingers looped through the holes of the scissors you had left in your pencil holder and always had forgotten to take back home. Well, it would now become useful again.
Yoongi’s eyes squinted in confusion but he said nothing as you made your way to the door again.
In the ladies' room, you changed into your oversized baby blue sweater and comfy Off-White cream track pants, sliding your Louboutin heels off one by one so you could pull up white ankle socks on each foot before sliding them into a pair of indigo Nike Blazer ‘77s. The corkscrew design, accents of baby blue, and floral embroidery softened your look but your stance was threatening as you stood in front of the sink and stared at the mirror across from you. Raising the scissors in your right hand to the opposite side of your hair, you snipped off a thick section of the hair held in your left hand. For the second time in your life, you were attacking your hair with scissors because of a man. As the dark locks of hair collected in the sink, you couldn’t find an ounce of regret within you.
After a final bit of finagling, you found yourself appeased with the length of your hair, it was a little longer than chin length and was actually very symmetrical all the way around, even in the back. It made you feel like a weight had been lifted off your chest, getting rid of all that hair you had to grow out for the wedding and photos, the hair that you had to keep even after getting married just because it made you look softer and more feminine, because it was more wifely.
You carded your fingers through your hair, raking it back so that it wouldn’t fall into your face, once you were satisfied with the way it looked, you gathered up all the loose hair and threw them away in the trash bin under the paper towel dispenser, slightly surprised that no one had come and interrupted you in the midst of your impromptu decision when every ladies’ room in HYP.E saw a lot of heavy traffic. Folding your dress over your arm and holding your nude pumps by their backs in your other hand, you were finally ready to leave. You pushed your back against the door to have it open and ducked out, inhaling sharply when you saw the two gentlemen walking in your direction.
A scowl took over your whole face when you noticed the white plastic generic ‘Thank You’ bag, embossed with red letters in one of their hands. An uneasiness settled in your stomach as the thought that it was probably your food hit you. Sighing, you made your way to them, deciding to pick the battle field and have the fight be on your terms.
“Oh Y/N, there you are,” Namjoon grinned, his dimple poking into his cheek as a giant smile took over his entire face. “Jungkook and I were at Tokkijung for a meal, we noticed an order getting ready to be delivered to the office while we were paying and it turned out to be yours. What luck, right?”
“What luck indeed,” you groused sarcastically, tucking one of your short new locks of hair behind an ear.
Jungkook was damn near hugging the three styrofoam boxes in the bag to his chest when his eyes shot to meet yours at your words. He still couldn’t believe the change in you﹣it hadn’t even been twenty-four hours since he had last seen you and since then you had managed to chop more than two thirds of your hair off. But still, it looked good on you, almost surprising was the fact that it suited you so well. The blunt cut sharpened your features making you look like a coquettish elven creature. Jungkook’s eyes were raking over your face, taking in every feature before they flitted over the rest of you. 
You looked so goddamn good he was almost losing his mind with how quickly his gut filled with lust, his collar suddenly feeling suffocating, and his blood rushing straight down. “I decided to add more food to your order,” Jungkook admitted, “I wasn’t sure if you had really gotten a chance to eat in between the party yesterday and now. I thought we could talk while you ate, and if it’s too much for you, I could help you finish it.”
Your eyes narrowed at him as you reached out for the bag, “It’s okay, I’m really busy today you don’t have to join me. It’s been a day from hell, the less said about it the better.”
Jungkook evaded your hand, stepping back and holding the food closer to his chest, “I don’t mind, I’ll be quiet as a mouse. You can do your thing; I won’t bother you. I’ve hung out at Namjoon’s studio plenty of times.”
“I’m surprised you came back so quickly,” you opined, “What about your niece’s actual birthday.”
“I don’t know that Jieun can tell time yet. I imagine that she thinks her life must either be one long endless day or that she’s trapped in some sort of a Groundhog Day situation with no way out. She won’t miss me. Her attention span is very short,” he snorted thinking of her fondly, “My sister and Jimin hyung were understanding. I don’t think I should be gone from the company so long in the future, so I have to thank you for playing a role in how early I returned.”
“And yet you’re here,” you mumbled under your breath. Namjoon didn’t hear you but Jungkook did, the smile on his face becoming more stilted, his eyes hardening with its bright sheen dulling. 
“Hyung, I’ll see you soon,” Jungkook piped up, “I don’t want to waste so much of my darling wife’s time out in the hall when she could be in her studio. We’ll be going now.”
“Of course,” Namjoon looked between you both and seemed to have finally noticed your new ‘do, “Wow, Y/N that haircut looks amazing, American hairdressers are something else huh?”
“Hmm,” you hummed blasély, shrugging. Jungkook’s scowl deepened since he wasn’t in on the secret as well. As Namjoon waved farewell to the two of you, you took off, knowing that Jungkook would follow in your footsteps and not leave you be. 
When you reached your room, you glared at the entrance, an acrylic neon sign saying “L.8 Universe” in cursive letters lit up by ice blue light the only decoration on it. Jungkook was an unignorable presence at your back, breathing down your neck ﹣figuratively, your soon-to-be ex-husband was too well-mannered to actually huff at your back. With a sigh, you opened the door just a hairbreadth to duck half your body in and check whether or not your cousin was still there. To your disappointment he was not, though he could have saved you from this pointless conversation about whether or not your marriage could be saved that Jungkook had aimed to corner you into.  
You sighed heavily before reluctantly opening the door wider and walking in completely, Jungkook following so quickly in your footsteps that he was almost stepping on your heels.
Sitting down on your ergonomic Sidiz Spiderman office chair, you rotated it around so you faced Jungkook who was putting down your food on the glass coffee table. To your constant state of utter dismay, when it came to him, the male looked regrettably good in his distressed light blue jeans that were hugging the length of his legs in a very becoming manner, revealing the sun-kissed skin of his knees through the giant holes he had worn into them. 
The yellow button down he had tucked into his jeans with the sleeves rolled up on made him appear casual yet put together and a black belt was wrapped around his waist, completing the ensemble.  His right wrist shone with his two-toned gold and silver Rolex. He even had the audacity to still be wearing his wedding ring, although you had to admit you had forgotten to take off yours, yourself. The draining effects of a fourteen hour flight were nowhere to be seen on his face, in contrast, you were looking worse for wear with your pinched dehydrated skin and chapped lips. 
“Jungkook why are you here?” you demanded tiredly, “Did you think that chasing me down would get me to change my mind? Jungkook I don’t care about the consequences. I don’t care about what clauses of the prenup we’ll be breaking by divorcing so quickly. I just want to be free.”
“You are so selfish Y/N,” Jungkook blurted, suddenly. He had always tried his best to be civil with you although you had revealed your distaste for him quite early on into the marriage. “This doesn’t just affect you. I’ll be punished too. And I’ll be damned if I have to reap the consequences for something you sowed. I won’t make this easy for you Y/N. Hear me out before you go through this and make things worse for both of us because I will fight you every step of the way.”
“What do you want Jungkook? Compensation? Fine, it's yours, it’ll have to be a yearly installment because I don’t have that much in liquid, but I’ll get you your money. I don’t want to be married to you. Why is it so hard for you to understand?!”
“You don’t even know me, Y/N,” Jungkook retorted angrily.
“I don’t want to get to know you,” you rolled your eyes. You played around with your wedding band. It was so ugly, not like anything you would have ever picked out for yourself. But you had refused to participate in any of the planning for the wedding, so in the end your mother had been the one to pick out your ring and she had chosen the most gaudy, obnoxious, and chunky piece of bling you had ever seen. 
“Don’t you think I deserve better than this?” Jungkook questioned, using his pinky to furiously brush back his bangs.
“Sure,” you agreed easily, “You deserve better than me. Let me divorce you so you can be on your way to a new wife. Perhaps, someone more congenial and straight out of Stepford who would delight in being the picture-perfect Mrs. Jeon.”
“I don’t want to deal with a new wife,” Jungkook grumbled. “Why can’t you just﹣”
“Why can’t I just what?” you parroted, trying your best to oppose Jungkook at every turn..
Jungkook exhaled loudly in frustration, “Stop being so contentious, Y/N, we’re both in the same boat.”
Your glare turned venomous as you thought to yourself, no we really aren’t. 
“Y/N please,” Jungkook pleaded, “Just one year. One year more from this date and then we can go separately in our different paths. Just give us a chance. I’m not asking for love, Y/N, you can’t ruin my life over this.”
You narrowed your eyes at Jungkook, glaring at him beadily, “And if I want to ruin your life? I see no reason to continue to stand by you.”
“Don’t pretend ﹣don’t pretend you are a bad person,” Jungkook groaned in frustration, “Just come on, Y/N, what’s one year of your life to you?”
So much, you thought mutinously, especially when I have to give it up to you. 
“You don’t know what I’m like when I’m wronged,” Jungkook blurted out, his voice shaky with how anxious he was that you were still going to refuse after it all, “You don’t know what I’ll do to ruin your life and make sure that you end up just as miserable as me.”
But you already were familiar with the ways that Jungkook could destroy you and everything you built. You scrunched your eyes shut as the telltale pinpricks of pain that hinted at a migraine began to flood your head. You were so tired of everything. But, what if you could bargain with him, you thought desperately. 
“One year, Jeon?” you murmured, a lethal tone lining your voice.
“Just one,” Jungkook acceded frantically. 
“And in return do you promise that when it’s over we will finally, completely be out of each other’s lives?” you asked, “Like we don’t exist for each other?”
Jungkook’s large doe eyes widened even more in his bewilderment, “If that’s what you want,” he agreed hesitantly. 
“One year, Jeon,” you conceded, “I’ll be counting down the days.”
“Not more than I am,” Jungkook replied, lying straight through his gritted teeth.
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⟶ tag list: @taestannie @kaithezaftig @apollukee @alpaca1612 @somewhereinthestarss @ggukkieland @ysltae @moonchild1 @doiemarkzen @etherealuv @diorkookie @squishyjk @rooo-tah @thisartemisnevermisses @vettigirl @awixxx @jimidol @ppeachyttae @fan-ati--c @kimmieloveswho @bambuzlee @jwlmnbt @immaculateloser @daggerbeneathmygown @afangirllikeme-blog @she-is-dreaming @ducktan-sonyeondan @ladyartemesia @igotnotype @lilyflowerguk​
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This work is licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution - Non Commercial - No Derivatives 4.0 International License
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xjoonchildx · 2 months ago
kanalia | jhs x reader | chapter two: so it's love, then
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banner by the amazing @kimtaehyunq 💕
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⚜️summary: secrets and uncertainty plague a young queen in her arranged marriage to a kind but distant king. the farther she drifts from her husband, the closer she gets to one of his most trusted men.
⚜️pairing: queen!reader x royalguard!hoseok
⚜️rating: mature, 18+
⚜️genre: royal AU, historical AU, smut
⚜️warnings: infidelity (it’s complicated, y’all) mentions of pregnancy, fertility issues. OC struggles with depressive thoughts and episodes.
⚜️word count: 6.5K
⚜️notes: phew. chapter two is finally here. i re-wrote scenes in this chapter several times because i'm dumb i really needed to make sure i got the tone right and y'all, i really hope i did. i promise not to make you wait as long for chapter three and a serious thank you to everyone who reads and talks to me about my stories. you guys have no idea what you mean to me 😭💕😭and of course, i cannot pass up an opportunity to thank my beta readers and sanity coaches @hobi-gif and @btsarmy9593. thank you for everything, you're both amazing.
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Your sister had been the one to discover it. Naturally.
You can still recall the wicked grin she’d worn the night she’d stolen into your room with her appalling news. Trouble always had a way of finding her -- or perhaps it was the other way around -- and you knew trouble when you saw it.
Or heard it.
“You should stop that at once,” you’d hissed, afraid to let your voice rise above a whisper. Eyes darting nervously towards the door as though you’d expected your mother to darken it at any moment.
“Why should I?” she’d challenged, one perfect brow lifted high. “Why would anyone?”
The question was fair enough, you’d supposed.
But the truth was that you didn’t know how to answer it. Didn’t know how to feel about her intimate confession beyond the embarrassment that made your entire face burn hot. So you’d reached for the only answer you could be entirely sure of.
“Mother wouldn’t like it.”
“Mother doesn’t like anything,” she’d shot back. “Perhaps if she spent a bit of time with her hand between her legs she wouldn’t be so -- ”
“ -- Chaehee!”
You’d issued her name like a rebuke, the outburst punching a hole through the quiet of your bedroom. And then for a while you’d both just sat there, staring petulantly at one another until you were both certain the noise hadn’t drawn unwanted attention.
Chaehee had been the one to break the stalemate. Naturally.
“I should have known better than to come to you with this,” she’d whispered, accusatory. “Only you could twist a discovery this fascinating into a lecture.”
You’d glared at her in that moment, tempted to confess that you’d been well aware of something down there long before her lurid admission.
The errant brush of your hand or the pinch of too-tight smallclothes or the firm press of your horse’s saddle could induce the strangest frisson of sensation. You’d thought of it as a kind of happy accident, the antithesis to the shooting pain you might feel after striking your wrist against a sharp corner.
And surely, you’d reasoned, it had to be forbidden.
Just the thought of your mother’s stern face, lips pressed into a flat, unforgiving line was enough to stop you from exploring this secret thrill from your most secret place. Not once had you been courageous enough to contemplate the idea that it wasn’t an accident at all. Or to consider how you might make it happen again.
Not like Chaehee.
“You’re just like her you know,” she’d accused hotly, climbing off your bed. “Always obsessing over propriety and etiquette.”
Your mouth had dropped wide open at that charge, lips parted to fire off a denial that never came. Your sister -- as discerning as she was disobedient -- always managed to strike right at the heart of the matter.
Then she’d whirled on you, finger pointed and eyes flashing.
“I hope you’re happy to live your life in the confines of a drawing room,” she’d declared. “I hope your stupid lessons and your stupid rules keep you warm at night. I worry for the day you wake up and realize you’re just as miserable as Mother.”
You can close your eyes now and still see the moment she’d quit your room in a huff.
You can practically see yourself in the memory, spine straight with indignation. Nose high in the air as you’d watched her leave. You can remember the way you’d pitied her, lamenting her certain descent into depravity and utterly convinced of your own goodness and maturity.
Only now can you see yourself for what you really were.
A little girl. A very foolish little girl.
You suppose it was jealousy you’d felt as you’d watched the King and his lover. But perhaps it was not the kind of jealousy one would expect from a wife witnessing her husband’s indiscretions firsthand.
In that moment, you’d found yourself envying Namjoon’s authority. His manhood. All the advantages of his sex that empowered him to do exactly as he pleased, unbound or perhaps unbothered by the constraints of your marriage.
The constraints of your sex.
How truly useless the years of singing lessons and the hours sat in front of the pianoforte had been. How happy you’d been to mold yourself into a poised wife in waiting, living precisely -- obediently -- within the boundaries drawn by your mother.
The reminders about your posture, the limitations placed on your favorite sweets, the nightly ritual of brushing your hair until it shone. You’d done everything she’d asked without question, certain that she’d only intended to better you. Certain that in the end it would make you an exemplary wife.
Funny, that.
Now, you had no choice but to admit that the marriage your mother had spent years preparing you for was an abject failure. No choice but to acknowledge that despite being a married woman, you understood nothing about the private ways of women and men.
You had never -- and likely would never -- experience the kind of passion you’d witnessed between the King and his lover. And you’d been entirely complicit in maintaining your own ignorance. Proudly playing the part of a proper young miss and turning a blind eye to the things that made you too uncomfortable to confront.
So you suppose it is anger you feel when you think about the state of your marriage. Though in truth, your anger is only partially directed at the King.
More than anything, you’re angry with yourself.
The ties around your waist pull tight, stopping just short of causing real pain.
Hyeri is rather strong for a woman of her years, a testament to a life lived in service of others. Your entire body jostles under the direction of her strong hands as she works to secure the corset beneath your bodice.
“Keep fidgeting like that if you want to be here all morning,” Hyeri grumbles, nimble fingers pulling the ties through the loops. The garment tightens up the line of your back as she works, humming lightly under her breath. “You’re harder to dress than a schoolgirl sometimes, I swear it.”
If this were any other morning, you’d laugh at her. Return the barb in kind.
But this morning, you are nursing a tiny ember of anger that’s burned inside since you found your husband and his lover tangled together on his bed. This morning, despite the dread that grips your chest like a physical touch, you speak the words sitting just on the tip of your tongue.
“I saw them together.”
You release the confession into the air and it hangs there for a moment like a thick, fraught fog. Everything stops -- Hyeri’s hands at your back, the soothing sound of her humming. You can practically feel the way her entire body tenses behind you before she finally dares to speak.
“I’m sorry, Your Grace,” she says at last. “So, so sorry.”
Your eyes fall shut as the implications of Hyeri’s words wash over you. Not once does she ask you who they are -- or what you saw them doing. Everything she doesn’t say confirms the suspicion that’s gnawed at you since the moment of your terrible discovery.
That the King’s indiscretion is an open secret. And that you are the last to know.
Hyeri returns to the work of securing your bodice again, this time a bit slower. Hands a bit less steady.
“Tell me then, Hyeri, “ you say, voice brittle with anger, “Am I sport for the footmen to enjoy over a tankard of ale? Do the maids titter about what a fool I am the moment I turn my back?”
Hyeri does not respond to your provocation. She’s quiet as the last section of corset comes together just below your shoulder blades and she fits your dress around it, wrinkled hands pushing out the gaps in the fine fabric. Once the dress is secure, she gently takes hold of your arms and turns you around.
“Sit with me, Your Grace,” she pleads softly. “Talk with me. Please.”
You study her for a long moment before nodding and allowing her to guide you to the nearby settee. She holds out a hand to help you settle onto the ornate bench before taking her place beside you.
You watch her wipe her palms across her own skirts before she speaks.
“There’s nothing I can say that will make this better,” she admits, shaking her head. “I’m embarrassed. For the King and for myself, perhaps. I am so sorry.”
“I care little for words of sympathy at this moment, Hyeri,” you say tightly. “I want the truth. I deserve that much.”
“Aye,” she sighs, “You do.”
“How long has the King been bedding women outside of our marriage?”
“Not women, Your Grace,” she answers quietly. “One woman. And it’s been going on for a very long time, I’m afraid. Years now.”
You stare at her, unblinking as you consider her words. Uncertain if you should feel more or less insulted now that you know the King’s tryst with this woman began long before you wed.
She clears her throat when you say nothing, looking down at her hands.
“She’s the daughter of his boyhood tutor, Your Grace. They were practically raised together. They’ve been close since they were children.“
“Close indeed,” you agree frigidly, fingers curling savagely into the heavy material of your skirt. “In fact, I dare say I’ve had the pleasure of seeing how close they are for myself.”
Your handmaid flushes deeply, spots of color appearing on her soft, creased cheeks.
“He begged his father to let him marry her. There were awful fights between the two of them. Weeks on end when His Grace refused to even speak to his father. The elder King eventually threatened to refuse him the throne and he was forced to accept the decision.”
“So it’s love, then.”
Hyeri is quiet for a long time before the meek agreement comes, voice barely above a whisper.
“Yes, Your Grace. I believe it is.”
Bitter laughter bubbles up your throat and Hyeri winces at the sound.
“Well, perhaps I should congratulate him,” you suggest, words dripping with acid. “Perhaps I should pen my husband a heartfelt note expressing my happiness that he’s managed to find that wondrous thing that seems to elude so many of us. How very fortunate for him.”
Hyeri’s eyes grow wide before she drops her gaze to her lap, staring down at her hands. She says nothing, but the paper-thin skin at the base of her throat ripples as she swallows thickly.
“All this time,” you muse darkly, “I thought the King simply incapable of passion. Truly, I must be the most foolish woman on the planet. Have you ever known a woman so profoundly imbecilic, Hyeri?”
“Don’t say that, Your Grace,” she whispers. “Please.”
You can’t bear to look at the sympathy in her soft, sweet face. So you turn away from it, seeking instead the morning sun just outside your chamber window. You stare blankly at the light that spills into your chamber.
“Who knows?”
“I couldn’t say, Your Grace,” she answers carefully, “But the King has always been exceedingly private. I imagine only those closest to him have any inkling.”
Those closest to him. Lord Jung.
His handsome face surfaces in your mind as you watch the light bend over the stone windowsill. Does he pity you? The thought makes your humiliation feel all the more acute.
Then the tea kettle is blaring, slicing through the silence.
Hyeri inhales deeply before rising from the settee. You stare numbly at the sunlight as she crosses the room to see to it, hearing the sounds of clinking metal and the soft gurgle of the boiling water over the fire.
After a while she appears before you with your tea and you accept it without thought, staring down into the murky dark liquid that seems to match your mood. The foul smell reaches your nose as you watch ribbons of essence swirl around in the cup, bringing a question to the forefront of your mind.
“Has she given him a child?”
You force yourself to ask the question despite the sudden, furious pounding of your heart. Despite your fear of hearing the answer, of having salt poured into the wound that’s already been opened inside of you.
“No, Your Grace,” Hyeri vows, taking a seat beside you once again. “No, she has not.”
You stare at her. A curious thing, that.
When you were a girl your mother had always made it seem as though falling pregnant were as simple as catching the common cold. She’d warned you against ever being alone with any boy of your age for that very reason. And you -- being you -- had followed her instruction to the letter.
But it would seem all of that caution and hand wringing was for naught.
The King has a wife and a lover -- but no children, legitimate or otherwise. Something about that knowledge prickles just beneath your consciousness like an itch. Your grip around the teacup tightens.
“Nothing is simple about this situation, Your Grace. The two of you have been thrust into an arrangement I’m certain neither one of you would have chosen otherwise. But I do believe there is a way to make the best of the circumstances you’ve been given.”
The image of the King’s bare back flashes in your mind. The image of his body looming over his lover, of her legs wrapped around her waist. Of the way her hands grasped at the dark strands of his hair.
“I believe the King has already found a way to make the best of it,” you bite out. “He’s certainly not let a little thing like our arrangement stand in the way of his pursuits.”
Hyeri, shamefaced, closes her eyes and releases a heavy breath of resignation.
“You’ve every right to be angry, Your Grace,” she acknowledges weakly. “I know this. But you would not believe the horror stories I’ve heard about other women in similar situations. Married off to horrible, heartless men. As painful as this situation is, I urge you to remember that the King is not a cruel man. And I do believe that he cares for you, in his way.”
You look up from your steaming tea to meet her gaze your own, straightening your spine and lifting your chin in defiance. She gawks when you hand it back, untouched, and stand to smooth your skirts.
You fetch your basket from a nearby table and make for the door, pausing briefly to turn back before you leave.
“Perhaps you’re right, Hyeri,” you concede quietly. “But perhaps indifference is a cruelty of its own kind.”
The heat is at its peak in these final weeks of summer, the air thick with the threat of rain. It’s the kind of heat that makes it hard to walk, hard to breathe. It’s the kind of heat that keeps most people inside, seeking refuge from the unforgiving sun.
But this afternoon, you will endure it.
You’ll endure it because despite the way your dress sticks to the backs of your legs and despite the damp, suffocating grip of your corset, you still much prefer this to being confined to your chambers. Faced with Hyeri’s gentle pity.
And so you brave the heat to steal away to your safe place, to sit in quiet contemplation with only the birds chirping overhead to watch you lick your wounds.
You wonder what your mother would say if she could see you now -- her favored daughter with a useless marriage and an equally useless womb. You wonder what your sister would say if she could see you now -- her pitiful sister just as miserable as she’d so sagely predicted long ago.
You open your journal to find your sketch and trace one fingertip over the neat, clean lines of your canary likeness. The quality of the work pleases you. There is nothing to add and nothing to take away. And as you study the finished work and ponder the predicaments laid before you, a question surfaces in your mind.
What now?
Perhaps there is a strange kind of freedom in knowing that the King’s heart was never yours to win. Perhaps one day, when the sounds of their frantic coupling cease ringing in your ears, you’ll find it in yourself to feel sorry for your husband and his lover. And perhaps if you were bold like Chaehee, you’d seize any opportunity at happiness here -- propriety and etiquette be damned.
You admire the canary one last time before turning to a fresh, blank page. You reach for a charcoal and set to work on a new sketch.
This one from memory alone.
The King and his men return in the dead of night.
The circumstances of his arrival suit you quite well. You’re in no particular hurry to see your husband and in no particular mood to feign excitement for his homecoming. Childishly, you wonder how long you can manage to avoid him before the servants start asking questions.
To your great dismay, you get the answer much sooner than you would have preferred.
After a morning spent walking the woods, resolutely avoiding the castle grounds, you arrive at the aviary to find the King waiting for you. He is seated at the desk -- your desk -- head tipped back as he gazes at the birds above.
Just the sight of him is enough to set off an excruciating tightness in your chest, a spontaneous distress that makes your legs feel weak. Your grip on the basket in your hands squeezes so tight, the wicker threads dig painfully into your palms.
Briefly, you contemplate turning back.
You contemplate leaving this place and this man behind and hiding from your predicaments for just a bit longer. But the sound of the earth crunching beneath your walking boots draws the King’s attention and before you can slip away unnoticed, he’s turned his gaze to you.
He rises to his feet and bile rises in your throat.
“Good afternoon, Your Grace,” he greets kindly. “I hope I find you well today.”
“Good afternoon,” you murmur, returning the bow with a stiff one of your own. “And you do.”
“I sought you out at the castle but Hyeri said she hadn’t seen you since morning,” he explains, taking a few tentative steps towards you. “So I thought I might find you here.”
“Find me you did, Your Grace,” you return soberly, moving to set your basket down. You issue your next words through a tight smile. “And welcome back, of course. I am pleased by your safe return.”
The warm smile that comes over him makes your stomach lurch.
“Thank you. It’s rather a good thing that I could not find you at the castle, I suppose. It really has been too long since I’ve spent time here.” He sweeps his gaze over the grandeur of his garden and you study his handsome face.
His handsome, traitorous face.
“It is quite lovely, isn’t it?” he muses.
The conversation grinds to a halt when you add nothing further to the sentiment. The two of you regard one another in uneasy silence until the King clears his throat.
“I have something for you,” he says, producing a small leather pouch from his pocket. “It’s only a small trinket, but it made me think of you.”
You think of me? How on earth do you find the time?
The caustic words leap to the tip of your tongue but you swallow them down instead of speaking them out loud. Instead you force yourself to extend your hand and accept the pouch, resisting the urge to pull your hand away when the King’s fingers brush against yours.
There’s a question in the way he’s looking at you right now, and you’re keenly aware of it as he watches you open his gift. You turn the pouch over in your hand and a green stone tumbles into your palm.
You’re quiet as you study it, running your thumb over it’s smooth edges. Feeling for the dip of the grooves carved into it. It takes a moment to realize what you’re seeing is the rudimentary shape of a bird.
“It’s Jade,” the King explains. “The Northerners are still a rather superstitious people, you see. Many of them still subscribe to the ways of the old kings. They say Jade brings prosperity and health.” He pauses for a moment before adding awkwardly, “If you believe in that sort of thing, of course.”
Slowly, you lift your gaze from the stone in your palm to regard your truly perplexing husband.
You’d expected your fury to return the moment you saw him again. You’d expected to be filled with the same white-hot rage you’d felt the day you discovered him in bed with his lover. But now he stands before you and the anger will not materialize. In its place, you feel something far more complicated.
Long before your fathers laid out a plan to join the two of you in matrimony, the King was in love with someone else. Long before the laborious dress fittings or the days-long carriage ride that brought you here, the King was in love with someone else.
Nothing you have done or could do will change that.
There is realization, too. That what lies at the very root of your anger is wounded pride -- not a broken heart. The King may never love you, and in this moment you have never been more certain that you could never love him back.
You’ve been silent for far too long. Staring for far too long. You know it from the way the tips of the King’s ears have turned a bit rosy and from the boyish way he scratches at the back of his neck.
“If you don’t like it -- ”
“ -- No. No, I like it very much,” you insist, once you can think clearly enough to speak. “Thank you. I wish very much for years of prosperity and health. So let us both hope the Northerners have it right.”
The King doesn’t come to you that night.
And as you lie awake in bed, you wonder if he’s with her right now. Making up for lost time the way that only lovers can.
It’s the sight of a massive Black Arabian that stops you short in the middle of your morning walk.
The grand animal stands taller than any horse you’ve ever seen, muscles prominent and coat shiny with sweat as it cants circles around the horse pen. Its head sways wildly as it snorts, stamping its feet in irritation.
The curious scene draws you off your intended path and you find yourself walking towards it instead of towards the woods. As you near, you watch a stablehand attempt to approach the animal, seeking to grab hold of its bridle. The animal shakes its head violently and the stablehand shrinks back in fear.
“Leave him be.”
The order that comes from just inside the stables is gruff, tone brooking no argument. You turn towards it, watching as Lord Jung emerges from the refuge of the shade. “He’s had enough.”
The stablehand looks all too happy to quit the company of the irate stallion. You smother a laugh at the comical speed in which he backs out of the pen. He spots you standing near the fence as he makes his escape, bravely pausing long enough to risk a bow in your direction.
The gesture immediately captures the attention of Lord Jung and he approaches without delay.
“Forgive me, Your Grace,” he says with a quiet smile, bowing smoothly. “I would have acknowledged you much sooner had I known you were here.”
He’s forgone the heavy weight of his tunic in this heat, opting instead for a light linen shirt -- the sleeves of which he’s rolled up to expose his strong forearms. Locks of dark hair cling to the sweat at his brow, curling at the ends.
Truly, you must speak with Hyeri at once about drawing your corset too tight. It’s the only reasonable explanation for why it takes you so long to find a breath.
“No, My Lord, please. You must forgive me for sneaking around,” you return at last. “I hadn’t meant to interrupt but I heard the fuss as I was headed out to the woods. I stopped to take a closer look.”
Lord Jung looks over his shoulder at the Arabian, still trotting frustrated circles around the pen. Though the animal seems to have calmed considerably since the retreat of the stablehand, it’s clear he’s still a bit disgruntled.
“We brought him back from the survey,” he explains. “A gift to His Grace from one of the wealthy Northern families.”
“A generous gift,” you muse. “He’s magnificent.”
“He is,” Lord Jung agrees. “And he’ll be a powerful asset one day. Today, however, it’s proving a bit of a challenge to break him. ”
Behind him the horse continues to stamp, head swaying. It brings each foot high and drops it back in a jerking motion, snorting with irritation at nearly every step.
“I wonder if he doesn’t care for the shape of his shoes,” you speculate. “Some horses are quite particular about that sort of thing, from what I understand.”
Lord Jung turns back to you with an expression of mild surprise.
“You have knowledge of horses?”
“I have some,” you admit shyly. “My brother works with them a great deal. I spent so many days at his heels that he had no choice but to relent and teach me how to ride.”
The memory makes you smile. And when your eyes flick up to meet his, Lord Jung is smiling too. Your pulse skips a beat at the way he regards you with those fathomless dark eyes.
“Do you miss riding?”
Every day.
Lord Jung nods as he reaches for the skin of water at his hip. He takes a long pull of it before swiping at the sweat on his brow with his forearm, the linen shirt clinging scandalously to his lean chest.
You breathe deeply and force yourself to look away from him and back to the horse.
“I suspect it will take some time to fully break him in,” he remarks thoughtfully. “I’ll be working here in the stables for the time being. If it pleases you, you are certainly welcome to come watch.” He pauses for a moment before adding, “So long as the King doesn’t mind you spending time away, that is.”
“Oh, I assure you Lord Jung,” you laugh, hoping the sound is enough to conceal the true cynicism in your words, “I am quite the last thing on the King’s mind at this hour or any other.”
You regret the words the very moment they come out of your mouth.
The darkness that comes over the man’s pretty features is like a passing shadow, gone nearly as quickly as it comes on. But you see it -- and it’s more than enough to make you feel embarrassed for speaking so carelessly. You tuck a wayward strand of hair behind your ear and shift your weight on your feet.
“Forgive me, I didn’t mean -- ” you start awkwardly, only to be silenced by Lord Jung.
“-- Don’t. There’s no need to apologize, Your Grace,” he interrupts, an edge of steel to his voice that you are certain was not there before. “The offer stands. You know where to find me.”
You take great care to busy yourself the next morning, setting off to the kitchen pantries with purpose.
Armed with a large basket, you carefully pore through the castle’s stores seeking dried noodles, salted meats and cheeses. You search for foods that would keep without spoiling quickly and find a veritable bounty -- Guksu noodles that could sit at the heart of any meal and beef that would do quite nicely for a Jangjorim.
The kitchen women bustle all around you, working to prepare huge pots of kimchi stew. You do your best to be mindful, trying not to be underfoot as they work -- and they pay your consideration back in kind with pleasant smiles and gentle offers of assistance.
You gladly accept the help.
And though there is much to occupy your mind this morning, you find that you cannot stop thinking about Lord Jung. At the very forefront remains the disconcerting way his demeanor had changed at the end of your encounter at the stables.
You cannot help but feel as though you’d angered him with your thoughtless words about the King.
You would do quite well to remember that Lord Jung’s loyalties lie squarely with His Grace and likely always will. That the two of them have been bound to one another since they were boys and that nothing -- certainly not some foreign woman -- is likely to change that.
So you spend an inordinate amount of time arranging and rearranging the supplies in your basket -- trying to push the memory of Lord Jung’s dark eyes and quiet smile out of your mind. You remind yourself that duty and honor take precedence above all else for a man like him. That his kindness and generosity are surely little more than gestures of respect.
But beneath all of your rationalizations, a question still lingers.
What if they’re not?
Min Boram is a tiny little thing. Pretty, delicate features set in a slender face.
It makes the wide smile she wears as she welcomes you into her home seem much larger, wholly warm and inviting. She bows to you first and then takes you by complete surprise by throwing her arms around you and squeezing tight.
You decide in that very first moment that you like her very, very much.
The Min household is rather modest in size, but exceedingly neat and well furnished. A pot of beancurd soup simmers on the stove, tinging the air with a comforting scent. There is an atmosphere of care and calm in this place and it makes you feel immediately at ease.
“Your Grace, it is so kind of you to pay a visit,” Boram says sweetly, eyes flashing with excitement as you extend the basket in your hands. At the very top sits the tiny pair of socks you’d spent days working on. Imperfect stitches face down, of course.
“And you come bearing gifts? My goodness, this is so generous.”
“Oh, it’s my pleasure, truly,” you smile, taking the seat she offers you in the drawing room. She leaves you for only a moment before returning with two cups of tea, one of which you gratefully accept. “I really had hoped to come by much sooner, but Hyeri explained to me that there is a customary waiting period in this Kingdom after a mother welcomes a child.”
Boram feigns a look of annoyance, waving one bothered hand in the air.
“Customs can be so strange, can they not? I would have gladly welcomed you any time you wished. But I am quite glad that you are here now.”
You’re quite glad of it too, you think. You welcome the change in scenery and company, the chance to spend time away from the castle and all the complications it represents.
“I can only imagine how busy these first few months of motherhood are,” you say, gesturing to your basket. “So I tried to bring you a few things that might help in that regard. A few things that could go into a quick meal if you find yourself pressed for time.”
Boram grins.
“Food is always in short supply in this house, on account of my husband. I don’t know where he puts it, but I will make sure he knows who to thank for this generous contribution to his full belly.”
At that, you can’t help but laugh.
“I’m sure you’re wondering where the baby is,” she says, casting a sidelong glance at one of the home’s bedrooms. “She’s still sleeping, I’m afraid. I still have yet to convince her that the time for rest is when the sun goes down.”
“Does she wake very often, then?”
“Three times at least,” Boram sighs. “Two times on a good night. It’s a wonder I have my wits about me enough to conduct a proper conversation with you right now.”
“I would also like to add that you look very well,” you remark genuinely. “Were I not privy to your news, I’d be hard pressed to identify you as a new mother at all.”
Boram’s cheeks flush at the compliment. “You flatter me, Your Grace.”
“And Lord Min? How is he faring in the early days of fatherhood?”
Boram pulls a face that makes you smile.
“Yoongi has always been one to treasure his sleep and there’s little of that to come by these days. I’ve found him napping in the garden at least twice now.”
“Poor man,” you laugh.
“Oh, please,” Boram groans, rolling her eyes. “I cook all his favorite foods to make up for it. He’ll live.”
“That he will,” you agree with a smile. You set your teacup down and smooth your hands over your skirts. “Thank you for the tea, Mrs. Min. I had only planned to take a few minutes of your time but your company is so welcome I think I forgot myself.”
“It’s Boram,” she corrects with a teasing huff, “And if it pleases you, I’d very much like you to stay. It’s yet another hour until Yoongi will be home for lunch. I realize you’re quite busy, but -- ”
“ -- I’m not,” you cut in, perhaps a bit too quickly. “I’m not busy at all. And I’ll be happy to stay for a while longer.”
So you stay, happily, and forget the time again as you make conversation with Boram. There is no artifice in her, none of the contrived pleasantry and deference you find in so many of your interactions as a Queen. The two of you carry on in pleasant discourse until a sharp cry from the bedroom silences you both.
“Oh no. I hope I didn’t wake her,” you whisper, as though controlling the volume of your voice after the fact would serve any purpose at all.
Boram snorts. “Certainly not. It’s time for her to eat, is all. If you’ll excuse me for a moment, I’ll fetch her.”
For the second time since meeting, Min Boram surprises you -- this time by producing what is quite certainly the most plump baby you’ve ever seen. It defies logic that two people so slight in stature could produce an infant so round. You take care not to stare in wide-eyed shock as Boram settles back into her chair with the adorable, chubby child now at her breast.
“What a delightful diversion you are, Your Grace. I find that most of my days are spent like this now,” she says, motioning to her precious cargo. “It’s nice to speak to someone who speaks back for a change.”
If only she knew how deeply you understood that sentiment. How you sometimes dread the morning routine of deciding between the very few options before you, how you sometimes dread the night knowing that when you wake you’ll do it over again. And again.
“Can I tell you a secret, Boram?” you ask. The woman nods, lips parted as she listens.
“I’m bored,” you admit with a laugh. “I’ve nothing to do. There are people here to see to the feasts and people to see to the staff and people to see to every available task. Most days, I find myself quite at odds over how to pass the time. I suppose if I had children, it would be my responsibility alone to rear them, but as yet I do not. And so, if you find yourself in need of someone who speaks back, I would be glad to be that someone.”
Boram is quiet for a moment before her lips curve into a soft, appreciative smile.
“Thank you, Your Grace,” Boram replies softly. “For many things. But for your honesty, most of all.”
You flush a bit, looking down at your hands. You hadn’t expected to speak to her with such candor and you can’t help but feel a bit exposed. Boram finishes feeding her daughter, looking at you thoughtfully as she gently raps against the child’s back.
“Would you like to hold her?”
God, you would, wouldn’t you? You’d longed for it from the moment you arrived. You nod with a shy smile and Boram stands to her feet. Carefully, she settles her child into the waiting cradle of your arms.
You welcome the weight of the baby, hold her carefully to your chest and watch, utterly rapt as she blinks up at you with curious dark eyes, milk-drunk and content.
“She’s beautiful, is she not?” Boram says proudly.
“She is,” you breathe, stroking one reverent hand over the tuft of hair at the crown of the baby’s head. “Truly the sweetest child.”
“When I was a girl, my mother told me that children born with hair are highly favored. Destined for greatness,” she muses softly. “I told Yoongi the same thing when she was born.”
“And what did he say?” you ask, refusing to take your eyes off the child for even a moment.
“He’s far too pragmatic, my husband,” she scoffs. “He says the King didn’t have a single hair on his head until he was two years old. And he’s the King now, after all, isn’t he?”
The mere mention of the King, particularly as you are holding this child, is like a knife to a freshly scabbed wound. You are unprepared for the swell of emotion that follows -- unprepared for the way your throat seizes, making it hard to breathe. Unprepared for the tears that swim into your vision.
And it is somewhere in the midst of this crisis -- with Min Yeona pressed to your breast -- that you miss the sound of boots being kicked clean at the door. Not one pair, but two.
When you finally come to your senses long enough to lift your head and acknowledge the men standing before you, it’s too late to conceal the afflicted look on your face. Too late to wipe away the unshed tears.
Lord Jung fixes his dark eyes to yours. You wish you could hide from him in this moment, so that he couldn’t see you like this. So that you didn’t have to see the concern, the alarm in his eyes.
For the first time since coming to this place, someone finally sees you.
At the very moment in which you wish least to be seen.
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hello if you are reading this now i super appreciate you. thank you for reading and i'd love to hear from you 💕💕💕 talk to me here!
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joonscypher · a month ago
Watermelon Sugar | JJK (M)
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☼ Summary: When your friends outvote you for your annual summer trip, you end up stuck at a beachside town. To make it worse, there’s an irritating local surfer boy that won’t leave you alone… that is until you see him shirtless and in the water - then you don’t want him to leave you alone and your unexpected summer romance begins.
☼ Pairing: Surfer!Jungkook x Female!Reader
☼ Genre: Fluff, smut, a dollop of brief angst, strangers to lovers au, summer romance au?, age gap au (Jungkook is 21 and y/n is 27-29)
☼ Rating: 18+
☼ Words: 14.4k
☼ Warnings: Profanity, mention of alcohol, y/n almost drowns, a classic misunderstanding, dirty talk, exhibitionism, handjob, oral (f receiving), face riding, protected sex, sub!jk, dom!reader
☼ Note: Here’s my fic for the Blue Crush collab! Thank you to @jamaisjoons​ for this gorgeous banner!! And thank you so much to my amazing, fantastic, magical beta @bangtanhome! Moon always saves my ass when I need someone’s big brain to read over my fics. Ily moon 🥺💙 Also! It’s still September 1st in the U.S. so I managed to post this in time for Jungkook’s birthday! 🙌🏽 I wrote more than half of this fic when I wasn’t sober, so enjoy!! 💜
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It’s hot. That’s the first and only thing you think of when you step out of your air-conditioned rental house and into the heat. The sun is beating down on you, the sweat immediately beading on your hairline. It is much too hot for May.
“I’m going to melt,” you groan, swinging the bottom of your sundress to create some sort of a breeze.
“Oh don’t be so dramatic,” Irene chides. “It’s not that much hotter than home.”
“Yeah, and nowhere near as humid, thank fuck!” Krystal cheers, skipping ahead of your group.
You huff, wiping your sweaty forehead, and hike your beach bag higher up your shoulder. Luna brings up the rear of the group, a small cooler in hand. “Plus, we all know you’re just being pouty about being here, Y/n.”
Crossing your arms, your pout increases, making your friends laugh. Luna is right and you’re not even a little sorry. You wanted your annual summer girls trip to be in France. The four of you have been going on summer trips since your freshman year of college 7 years ago.
You’ve been abroad a few times, in the big city, and in the mountains last year. This is your first year at a beach and you weren’t happy. You wanted to go to Paris and when your group voted on where to go, they all wanted to take it easy this summer and stay seaside. As a person who doesn’t know how to swim, you were against it. You were afraid you’d spend the entire trip inside or in the sand watching your friends have fun.
They assured you this wouldn’t be the case and you believed them.
This turns out to be untrue of course, as you now sit alone on your beach towel, watching your friends laugh and film videos in the water without you.
Honestly, you should’ve known, but it’s too late now because you’re here and your rental beach house is paid for for the next two and a half months. Even if you’re in some random beach town on the other side of the country that you’ve never heard of, already having a terrible time, maybe the rest of the trip would start looking up. At some point.
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It’s hot. That’s the first and only thing Jungkook thinks as he steps foot on the sand. The sun is beating down on him, the sweat immediately beading on his hairline.
“Man, it’s good to be home!” He cheers to no one, arms raising as he stretches.
Jungkook’s eyes sweep the beach, taking in all the familiar and unfamiliar faces. Honeycomb Cove is his home and he’s been aching to be back. College in the city up North is fine and all, and his freshman year ended without a hitch, but it just isn’t the same. He’s missed the sand, the sun, and the water every day he’s been away.
He also missed his best friends. His closest friends were all older than him, so being the baby of the friend group meant that his friends practically raised him when they were all together, and he hated being so far away from them. With that in mind, being away also gave him a chance to be a new person in college, having easily befriended his roommates and multiple classmates, as well as getting his very generous share of hookups.
College was the time that Jungkook took to find out if he’d ever grow out of being the “cute kid” that everyone in Honeycomb Cove knew him as and it worked. Between his new piercings and tattoos (that he was able to get for cheap, thanks to his roommate's brother owning a local shop), and his newfound love for the gym, Jungkook is coming back a different boy from a year ago and he can’t wait to see what, or who, he’ll be able to do back home.
Jungkook is excited to see his best friends and tell them all about his escapades, having texted them all as he left his parents’ house. Not yet getting a response, he decides to go to the beach. Instead of his friends, his brown eyes land on you.
He knows you’re a tourist because he’s never seen you before and he definitely would’ve remembered you. Legs bare, skin shimmering in the sunlight, body laid out on a towel, completely stunning. Jungkook adjusts his clothes before starting your way. Having been plenty successful in wooing college partners, he doesn’t think twice as he approaches you.
The closer he gets to you, the more his stomach flips at how good-looking you are. Your head is reclining on your tote bag, tablet in hand, earbuds in. Your sunglasses shield most of your face, but he knows all of you is equally beautiful.
When he’s finally in front of you, Jungkook waits until you notice his shadow casting over you. You pull your earbud out and put your tablet down, seeing him beam down at you.
“I hope you’re wearing sunscreen. The sun’s pretty brutal today,” he shields his eyes and looks to the sky. “If you’re not, I’d be happy to help you out.” He meets what he believes are your eyes from the other side of your lenses, giving you the best charming smile he can muster.
You slip your sunglasses down your nose and off of your face, making Jungkook’s breath catch in his throat ever so quietly. He was right - every part of you is gorgeous and it frazzles him, just a little.
“Does that line really work?” You respond, eyebrows raised.
“I- what?” That’s not what he thought you’d say.
“I’m assuming it has since you said it with such confidence.”
Jungkook recovers as quickly as he can, clearing his throat. “I’m a confident guy, what can I say?”
“Well, keep that same confidence when you go hit on a different girl on the beach, okay? I’m sure it’ll work on one of them.” You put your sunglasses back on and move to pick your earbud back up, but Jungkook crouches down to keep talking to you. He doesn’t want to lose your attention just yet.
“Hey, wait, I’m sorry. I think I may have come on too strong. Let me start over. I’m Jungkook.” He holds out his tattooed arm to you purposely, feeling successful when you pull your glasses down again and inspect his inked arm.
“Y/n.” You supply, reaching up to shake his hand.
“Well, Y/n, would you like to go for a swim with me?” Jungkook prepares to stand up and take your hand, but you surprise him by shaking your head.
“No thank you.”
“Uh, sorry. I uh-”
You scoff. “Oh, what, were you just anxiously waiting for me to be all like ‘oh yes, of course, take me away!’ or something?”
“Well… not exactly, but -”
“Listen, I’ll save you the trouble. I’m not interested, okay? You seem like a nice kid, but maybe a cute pick-up line will work on a girl your own age?”
Jungkook furrows his eyebrows, scanning you from head to toe. He can’t tell how old you are, but he knows you look amazing no matter the number.
When he voices this, you roll your eyes. “You’re not supposed to talk to a woman about her age, don’t you know that?”
“Sorry, but seriously, you’re beautiful and don’t look like you’re that much older than me.”
“How old are you?” You ask, giving him a once over.
“Hmm. What are you, a freshman in college?”
“Just finished my freshman year. I’ll be a sophomore next year!.” He says almost hesitantly. It doesn’t seem like he’s impressing you as it is, but he wants to be honest.
“Well, I’ve been out of college for about 3 and a half years, so…”
“So, what? You being older doesn’t stop me from wanting to get to know you more,” his voice lowers and he scooches closer to you.
“Well, it does for me. Now, I’m going to put my headphones on again and go back to my book. I’m done talking to you today.” And with that, you’re reclining again, ignoring Jungkook’s existence.
The younger man blinks a few times before standing up, intending to give you your space. Jungkook hasn’t gotten turned down in at least a year. From anyone. At all.
It’s not that he’s a narcissist or anything, but he knows he’s hot. And he knows other people think so. It’s why he has so much trouble believing you.
He walks away, pausing to look over his shoulder at you, before something you said rings through his ears again. You said you’re done speaking with him today. You didn’t say anything about tomorrow.
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“Oh! Y/n, who was the guy you were talking to earlier?” Irene asks later in the day at dinner. The four of you are eating at a small seafood restaurant on the boardwalk.
“What guy?”
“The tall one with the blue hair.”
“The tall, hot one with blue hair.” Krystal corrects her.
You genuinely forgot about the boy until just this moment. Being reminded of him, you remember that yes, he is hot. He is one of the most attractive men you’ve run into in probably ever. You did your best not to ogle him when he approached you earlier, but you’d be crazy not to notice how built he was, even in a loose shirt.
You clear your throat, swallowing the crab cake you just stuffed in your mouth. “Oh, him. His name’s Jungkook.”
“And?” Luna presses.
“And what?”
“What did he say?”
“He was hitting on me,” you shrug.
“That’s it? No number or anything?”
“He’s 21!”
“So?! You say that like we’re in our fifties! It’s our summer vacation, Y/n. Go wild, fuck a cute beach boy. Fuck multiple cute beach boys! Girls too!” She encourages you much too loudly, causing a few patrons of the restaurant to look over at you.
“Alright, settle down,” Irene says, putting on her mom voice. “Y/n, our crazy friend is right. You may as well have some fun this summer seeing how otherwise you’re just gonna pout on the beach for the whole trip.”
You give Irene a look. “I’m fine, thank you very much. I won’t just be fucking any cute boy, or person for that matter, that talks to me.”
“Why not? Remember that guy Sota you hooked up with when we went to Japan last year?” She reminds you.
“Oh yeah! And that other tourist we met in Thailand!” Luna chimes in.
“And there was that girl in the Poconos right before Junior year,” Krystal adds.
“Alright, alright, we get it. But none of them were younger than me. They were all older so it’s different. Jungkook has only been legally allowed to drink for a year.” Your friends all share a look at your words, rolling their eyes, clearly not believing you.
You’ll admit, you have a healthy track record with hookups, and maybe Jungkook being younger is arbitrary, but still. You’re stubborn and want to prove them wrong, what can you say?
You hold onto that stubbornness into the next day when you’ve sprawled out on your beach towel again, flat on your stomach as the sun beats down on your back. You’re on your tablet, scrolling for a new manga to read when you see a shadow cast over you.
Straining your neck to look up, you see Jungkook standing over you, clearly interested in the screen of your tablet.
“Wow. Beautiful, and a lover of manga? That settles it, Y/n, you’re my dream woman.”
You look at him over your sunglasses, taking note of the small sliver of skin peeking out from the bottom of his shirt. The blue printed shirt he’s wearing is unbuttoned near his belly button, giving you just a tease of his tanned skin underneath. “Well, what if I don’t want to be your dream woman?” You finally say, clearing your throat.
As if he caught the way you were looking at him, he smirks, taking this as an invitation to sit in the sand next to you.
“Oh, Y/n, how could you not be my dream woman? You’re funny, mature, and a woman of taste. You check all the necessary boxes.”
You click your tongue at him, rolling over on your back to look at him. You don’t miss the way his eyes roam your body now that it's on display for him. “Jungkook, have you ever even been with anyone older?”
He visibly falters, only for a second. “Of course. I’ve been with plenty of older people when I was in school.”
“By older, I mean mid to late twenties, not a 22 or 23-year-old.”
Jungkook clears his throat and looks out to the water. “I didn’t ask the age of everyone in school I was with, that’d be silly. I just know who was older.”
Judging by the way that he avoids looking directly at you, you’re skeptical about his claim. “If you’ve never actually been with a grown woman, that’s nothing to be embarrassed about.” Deciding to tease him a little, you move your bare leg so that it rests against his arm. He isn’t looking when you do, so the sensation of your skin touching nearly sends him flying into the air.
You let out a giggle at his reaction, and if Jungkook wasn’t so flustered, he’d make a snarky comment at your teasing. Instead, he admires the way you laugh; the way your nose crinkles, and the way your lashes touch the apples of your cheeks when you close your eyes. He doesn’t know what it is about you, but something had him smitten the moment he saw you and it doesn’t seem to be going away.
Jungkook jumps up then, brushing the sand off of his white board shorts. “As lovely as it is to be in your presence, I’ve got to go meet up with one of my friends. I’ll come and find you later.” He sends a wink your way, but even he hears the hesitation in his voice.
“See you later, Jungkook,” you say in a sickly sweet tone and he rushes away from you before you see the way his cheeks heat up.
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You’re two weeks into your summer vacation and every day is more or less the same. You come to the beach with your friends, you go back and forth with Jungkook, then eventually you and your friends hang out on the pier in town, then do it all over again. You still think you’d have had more fun in Paris, but you won’t lie and say Jungkook’s presence doesn’t add some fun to your otherwise mundane trip.
Today Krystal is lying with you, deciding to work on her tan instead of joining your other friends in the water. You’re talking about dinner possibilities for the night when Jungkook approaches with two men, just as tall as him in tow. They’re all carrying surfboards tucked under their arms.
“Good morning, Y/n.” He greets you when he’s close enough.”
“Hi, Jungkook. Come for your daily rejection?” You tease and he genuinely laughs.
“Nope. Just wanted to say hi. I’ll be surfing today. You know, enjoying the water on the beach? Something you don’t do.”
“Ha. Ha. You’re so funny. Go on and have a good time.”
“I will. Oh, and these are my roommates from school. This is Mingyu and this is Yugyeom. They just got here this morning and will be around for a few weeks.”
You greet both of the men then introduce Krystal.
“It’s nice to finally meet you, Y/n. JK hasn’t shut up about you since he met you.” The friend named Yugyeom says, earning a punch in the arm from Jungkook in retaliation.
“Anyway, let me know if you change your mind about coming out to the water, Y/n.”
“Mmhmm.” You say to Jungkook in reply. He sends you a smile and you watch as he walks away, hitting Yugyeom again.
“Wow. That boy is whipped for you.” Krystal comments, both of you casually watching the three boys pick a spot near the water to set their surfboards down.
“You think?”
“Girl, he comes over here to flirt with you every day. You just met him and he went out of his way to come over and introduce you to his friends. Yes, he likes you. And you like him too.”
“What makes you say that?” Jungkook and his friends are looking at the water and exchanging a few words.
“If you didn’t, you wouldn’t keep flirting back and would’ve told him to seriously fuck off from day one.”
You shrug. “I mean he is quite charming if not cheesy. I also like messing with him. It’s obvious he was pulling all the little college girls so why would I just give in?” You and Krystal share a laugh that very quickly dies in your throat.
Jungkook pulls his white t-shirt over his head and drops it into the sand. He’s close enough that you spy every flex of muscles as he stretches. His chest and stomach are much more toned than you originally thought. The skin looks smooth and is only a little less tanned than his face. You can see the tattoos that creep up his arm to his shoulder and only briefly wonder how a college boy had the time or money for all that ink.
He picks up his surfboard, his biceps damn near rippling with every move, and runs out to the water with his friends. The muscles in his back move with his steps and you ogle him until he’s further out of eyeshot.
“Close your mouth, Y/n, or a bug will fly in.” You snap your mouth closed at Krystal’s words and shoot her a look. “And what were you saying about not giving in?”
Fuck. She knows your thoughts too well. The way your brain flipped from “I’m gonna play hard to get” to “I will literally fuck him right here right now” is extremely embarrassing, but you’re a simple girl. If you think someone is attractive, you want to sleep with them.
At first, Jungkook was just like any other guy hitting on you, then it was a matter of being stubborn with your friends and not giving in to his charms, but each day you seemed to enjoy his company more and more, as simple as your encounters were.
And now, seeing his shirtless, under the hot sun and about to be dripping with water, the thought of teasing him vanishes. The desire to touch him more than simply shaking his hand or brushing against his arm is strong.
You don’t reply to your friend, instead opting to watch Jungkook in the distance standing up on his board as he rides a wave (you think that’s what it’s called. You know nothing about surfing but you just may need to learn). Eventually, you see his distant figure flop into the water and off of his surfboard, before you spot his head pop out from the water.
“Is it weird if I go over and meet him at the shore?” You voice your thoughts.
Krystal bursts into laughter at this. “You’ve refused to go to the water since we got here! He’s definitely gonna know how thirsty you are if you’re all of a sudden waiting for him over there.”
“Ugh, you’re right. I’ll just wait for him to come over.” You follow his every move as he paddles back to shore, eventually able to stand upright. The sight of Jungkook rising from the water, droplets dripping down every part of his chiseled body has you feeling like a horny teenager again. He raises a hand to run through his wet hair and you swear you almost groan.
“Fuck it, let him know I’m thirsty because I am.” You put your tablet in your bag and move to get up, but stop when you see the flock of girls that appear almost out of nowhere and surround Jungkook. He’s barely back on land and they’re at his side, clearly fawning over him. He smiles at them all, talking with them without even glancing at you.
“Wow. He didn't even make it to dry land before they rushed him.” Krystal laughs. “Still going over there?”
You watch as one of the girls holds up a beach ball and gestures to Mingyu and Yugyeom who are on either side of Jungkook. Jungkook looks up then, his eyes flickering up to you long enough to hold your gaze before he and his friends jog out of the water and plant their surfboards in the sand. He shoots you one more look before turning and following the girls back into the water as the group of six stands facing each other and hits the beach ball back and forth.
“Am I crazy, or did he look you dead in the eye?”
“Yep,” you answer Krystal. “The little shit knows I’m watching. He’s trying to make me jealous. He knows I won’t go in the water.”
“Does he know you can’t swim?”
“No, he just thinks I hate the water.”
“You do hate the water too.”
“Well I guess now I have to learn to like it.”
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Is going out to the beach at nearly 6 in the morning to teach yourself to swim when no one is around a bad idea? Probably. Are you going to do it anyway? Yes.
To be honest you had thought about figuring out how to learn earlier in the week. As fun as your banter with Jungkook has been, you were admittedly tired of sitting in a heap on the beach while your friends frolic in the water without you. Now that Jungkook is clearly going to be showing off in the water, you have to figure it out fast. If you’re going to keep teasing him back, you need to be on a level playing field.
Swimming doesn’t even look that hard. You just get in, kick your legs about, and move your arms. Seems simple enough.
The silence on the beach is a little eerie compared to how lively it typically is later in the day. The sun hasn’t risen completely, and the sand isn’t scalding as you step onto it. The waves are low, the tide gently moving in an almost peaceful way.
As you approach the water, you catch sight of a woman jogging with her dog, going in the opposite direction as you. When she’s far enough away you let out a surprisingly calm breath and drop your towel and tote bag onto the sand.
You tread carefully to the shoreline, dipping a single foot in at first. The chill of the water makes you jump back and let out a little yelp. After surveying your surroundings again and inhaling again, you step both feet in, the current only lapping at your ankles the deeper you go.
Teeth chattering, you step in further and further, the water moving from your ankles to your calves, to your knees, until eventually, it’s at your waist. You stand there for a while, letting yourself get used to the temperature as the sun continues to rise and warms your upper half.
It’s not as bad as you thought it’d be the longer you stand in it. You step in more, squatting to let the water rise to your chest. Steadying your breathing, you start to swirl your arms, moving the water around you and slowly getting more comfortable.
You take tiny steps in a circle, working hard to keep yourself balanced as you wade in further until you have to stand up and are on your tip-toes. “This isn’t so bad,” you muse out loud to yourself glancing towards the shore.
As luck would have it, no sooner do the words leave your mouth, do you take a step too quickly, losing your footing and tumbling backward. You flop in the water and attempt to stand up, but your bare feet don’t touch the ocean floor.
Panic starts to set in as you fumble to touch something to steady yourself, but find nothing. You feel yourself going deeper into the water with each flail of your arm and kick of your leg.
“H-Help!” You call out each time your head pokes above water, hoping someone will hear you. But the last time you checked, there was no one on the beach except you. You scream again, more water rushing into your mouth and filling your ears and nose. You don’t know how long you wave your arms, desperate for air, but just as you feel your limbs start to tire, something strong locks around your waist and yanks you to the surface.
You spit out as much water as you can and take in a huge mouthful of air. Your eyes and lungs are on fire and your heart feels as though it’s going to burst out of your chest. The person dragging you out of the water brings you to shore and sits you down as you continue coughing.
“Y/n! Are you okay?!” You recognize Jungkook’s voice and squint up at him. His eyebrows are furrowed in worry as he looks at you.
“Yeah,” you rasp out, coughing again.
“I’m taking you home. Come on.” You don’t object, still shaky as he helps you up. He wraps your towel around you and shoulders your tote bag as he practically carries you home. You hold onto his waist as he holds your shoulders, keeping you steady on the way.
Jungkook helps you inside and sits you down at the kitchen table. You’re both quiet as he sits across from you, inspecting you.
“Thank you,” you finally say.
“What were you doing in the water alone?
“I was supposed to be teaching myself to swim. Clearly, that didn’t happen.”
“No, it didn’t. You almost drowned, Y/n. Why didn’t you tell me you couldn’t swim?” His tone is stern and when you look at him it matches the frown on his face.
“I don’t know. I didn’t think it mattered. Then I saw you out there yesterday trying to make me jealous and I changed my mind. I’m just lucky you were around. What are you doing this early?”
“I jog every morning on the beach. It helps clear my head. I’m sorry about yesterday; I had no idea you couldn’t swim. But also Y/n, what if I hadn’t been there today?”
“But you were.”
“But what if I hadn’t?!” Jungkook’s face is flush and you see his hand shaking from where it rests on the table.
Slowly, you cover his hand with yours, and you feel the shakes subside. “Jungkook, I’m okay. You were there and you saved me. I’m right here.”
Without another word, Jungkook launches at you, pulling you in a hug. “That was so scary. I’ve never seen anyone almost drown. And it was you which makes it worse.” Jungkook pulls back, his eyes meeting yours. “Y/n, look, I know I annoy you and we don’t know each other very well, but I do really like being around you and I like you. I don’t wanna lose you before we can spend more time together and get to know each other better.”
You smile at Jungkook, hugging him again. “You do annoy me that’s true…. but you’re not that bad. I’m truly thankful that you were out there this morning. Thank you again.” Jungkook’s arms squeeze you again and you stay like that for a little while longer until a chill runs through you. The air in the house is cutting through your wet bathing suit, so you decide it’s time to change.
“I’ll see you later?” Jungkook asks when you walk him to the door.
“Maybe tomorrow. I’ll probably stay inside for the rest of the day.”
“Okay.” He gives you an understanding nod and starts to leave, stopping suddenly and turning back towards you. “Oh and from now on, we’ll be having swimming lessons. I’ll teach you, okay?” He doesn’t wait for your answer before he’s jogging away, leaving you there with a weird feeling in your stomach about him. A weird, unexpected, but not unpleasant feeling. All of a sudden the idea of seeing Jungkook isn’t so bad.
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When you tell your friends what happened this morning, they give you shit any chance they get about how you shouldn’t have been out there by yourself. They at least stay with you in the house for the rest of the day, the four of you deciding to relax in your rental, watching movies and ordering takeout from a restaurant in town that you have yet to try.
By the next day, your friends are still poking fun at you about what happened.
“I still can’t believe you risked your life for some dick and you wouldn’t even learn to swim for us!” Luna teases as you walk to the beach later that afternoon.
“I already said I’ve been thinking about learning so I can have more fun with you guys! Jungkook shirtless and wet just gave me more of a boost.”
“Yeah, yeah. And I suppose you’re going to let him teach you to swim too when we’ve all been offering as long as we’ve known you?”
“I, uh. Well-”
“That’s a yes.” Irene laughs.
“I’m, er-”
“Relax, Y/n. We get it.” Irene assures you, looping her arm through hers. “It’s summer vacation. You deserve to have fun and do what you want. And it’s not like we didn’t encourage you to hook up with him the first day you met him.”
“And let’s be real; if we were in your position and someone that looks like Jungkook was hitting on us, we would’ve already been riding him into the sunset,” Krystal says and the other two women eagerly nod in agreement.
“And speaking of Jungkook, look who’s waiting for you.” Luna’s words have you looking ahead and sure enough, Jungkook is waiting near the entrance of the beach you’re walking towards. You always thought he was good-looking since the day you met but seeing him after the other day and after he saved you, you can’t help but look at him with even more interest.
“Hi,” he says, looking directly at you when you approach.
“I uh, I wanted to make sure to meet you and make sure you're okay.”
“I’m alright. What happened is over and I’m okay.”
“I’m glad to hear it.” He offers a small smile. This is the first time you think you’ve seen Jungkook looking so nervous with you. He keeps wringing his hands and looking around.
“Well, I’m gonna go…” you start, but Jungkook’s hand shoots out to stop you.
“Sorry!” he quickly snatches his hand back, your arm feeling bare with the loss of him. “I was just going to ask if you were feeling up to it if you wanted to have a swimming lesson with me today. You don’t have to! It’s just an idea and I understand if not.”
It only takes you a second and you say okay. Jungkook is taken aback, genuinely surprised that you said yes, but recovers quickly.
“Okay! I mean, cool. Let’s go.” Your friends teasingly call out their goodbyes as you follow Jungkook across the sand to a spot closer to the water. He doesn’t say much to you on the way and when you get to the water he’s all business.
“We’ll start simple with just getting you in the water, getting you comfortable, and probably work on getting you to float.” You nod at him and move to take off your shorts, folding them neatly and tossing them with your bag. Jungkook follows suit, pulling his t-shirt over his head. You follow his movements with your eyes, taking the opportunity of being so close to him to study every ripple and movement of his muscles in his arms, chest, and abdomen. You don’t feel bad for checking him out since he does the same to you every day.
You follow him to the water, your pace slowing the higher the water starts to lap at you. Jungkook senses your hesitance and turns back to you. “We don’t have to if you don’t want to.”
“No, no it’s fine.” He holds out his hand to you which you take and let him lead you into the water. He stops every few inches, letting you adjust. Initially, your heart seemed to be racing the more you stepped in, but with Jungkook’s hands around yours, holding you steady, you’re more relaxed.
When the water is around your knees, he stops completely, letting the cold water soak your skin. “How are you doing?” His tone is soft, serving to put you at ease more.
“I’m okay.”
“You’re sure? I don’t want to push you.”
“Jungkook, I’m fine, I promise.”
He nods, trusting your judgment. The two of you move further into the water until the water is under your breasts while still only hitting him at his stomach.
“Here’s what we’ll do. I want you to lay forward in the water and we’ll practice floating and maybe have you start to kick your legs.. I’ll hold onto you the whole time. Just try and relax and you’ll be okay.”
You hesitate, the memory of doing something similar only yesterday coming back to you as well as the terror you felt.
“Hey, hey, Y/n, look at me.” As if sensing the panic setting in, Jungkook tightens the hold on your hands. You look up at him, your eyes meeting, and you see his gaze is as soft as his voice. “Do you trust me?”
Do you? You don’t know Jungkook very well other than the shared banter between you two for the past two and a half weeks. He immediately gave off a try-hard vibe and was acting very much his age. But, as many pick-up lines as he throws at you they’re always respectful and seemingly good-natured (as good-natured as possible for someone who wants in your pants anyway). He also saved your life a day ago and seems to genuinely care about your well-being. Even now, your life is very much in his hands, but he’s being nothing but patient and gentle with you.
All things considered, you do trust Jungkook and you’re not scared to put your trust in him.
“I do.” You finally say. Jungkook smiles softly at you and waits as you take a deep breath then lay forward in the water, his hands never leaving yours.
Your body is rigid as you desperately push yourself to relax. Your head is above water and Jungkook has stuck to his word, not letting go of your hands. It takes a few seconds before you settle your nerves and you realize you’re successfully floating and not being pulled under.
“I’m not drowning!” You cheer.
“I told you you’d be okay.” Jungkook laughs and the way your stomach flutters at the sound is new and you promptly ignore it.
You and Jungkook stay in the water for a while more. He starts to guide you slowly around the water with you still on your stomach. You kick your legs here and there with his encouragement. By the time you get out, all of your fingers and toes have started to prune, but you feel much more confident in the water than you ever have.
Things with you and Jungkook also change after that. You still see him every day for the next week at the beach, but it’s not the same. He teaches you to swim better and better each day. When you’re not doing that, you’re admiring the way he surfs, still not knowing much about it except how good he looks. Other than that, you’re lounging together in the sand talking which can range from flirting to swapping stories about yourselves to listening to Jungkook gush about Honeycomb Cove.
Being from this small beach town is something that he’s proud of. He’s had the same best friends all his life and has known most of the people in this town forever. As he tells you a story about him and his friends you can see just how much his home meant to him.
You may not have similar origins as him, having moved around a lot when you were younger, but Jungkook still loves watching you talk about your last few years since graduating college. You don’t seem to live with many regrets and carry yourself with the confidence and determination that Jungkook strives to have.
The two of you have been getting closer both personally and physically as the week goes on. Though you hadn't explicitly talked about the nature of your relationship, your bodies gradually moved closer; even going so far as to hold hands and sit closer together.
Jungkook tries as hard as he can to muster up the confidence that you have. You’re lying on your stomach next to him on your towel after a serious pro and con discussion about mint chocolate chip ice cream (you are strongly against it). Jungkook is on his stomach too and you’re so close to him that every time you shift, the skin of your arm rubs against his ever so slightly.
He scoots closer, your arms now pressed together. Another scoot has your legs touching and each time Jungkook’s stomach flips.
“Tryna cop a feel over there, Jungkookie?” You tease.
“What?!” He asks too loudly. You turn and look at him, a smirk on your lips.
“Don’t be shy. It’s obvious you’ve wanted to touch me since the day you met me and I won’t stop you.” You reach around and grab his hand, placing it on your ass. He jolts but doesn’t move.
He hates how much his hand feels like it’s trembling on your soft skin, and tries to control his erratic breathing. Jungkook is no beginner with sex - not by a long shot - but for some reason you made him feel like the inexperienced, nerdy little boy that's about to have sex for the first time. He’s known you for less than a month and he already feels different around you, which both scares and thrills him.
You sense Jungkook’s nervousness and make a note of it. It’s obvious that if you want to sleep with Jungkook, you’ll have to make the first move. With this in mind, you decide to tease him at every chance you get.
This includes touching any part of him you can reach as the days with him tick on. When you share your first kiss with him a few days later, you trail your hands up his arms and around to his chest, letting your nails scrape the warm skin. Jungkook lets out a shaky moan through the kiss, which drives you crazy. If Mingyu and Yugyeom hadn’t chosen that time to come stumbling out to where you were in the water, you could’ve very well asked him to take you to the shallower parts and fuck you right there.
This same, near-feral state sticks with you the next day as the two of you are sharing a wooden lounge chair on the sandy front lawn of your rental house. Jungkook comes to see you in the morning, as has become his routine. Instead of trekking through the hotter than usual sand this morning, you decide to spend time lazily taking up space on the chairs.
You start on your own chair, but the sight of shirtless Jungkook, sprawled out so close to you is enough to have you climbing onto the chair with him. You’re practically in his lap, but neither of you seem to mind.
“So I was thinking,” he starts as the music playing softly from your phone changes songs.
“Hm?” You eye the way his adam's apple bobs as he gulps. The skin on his neck is practically begging to be kissed.
“I want to take you out on a date," he begins. "You've probably been to almost every restaurant in town, but I figured we could have a real date that doesn't consist of us just feeling each other up while we swim.” Jungkook chuckles, but the sound dies in his throat as you move your hand from where it rested on your hip, to his chest.
“I’d love to go out with you, Jungkook. Although I won’t lie, I do like the 'feeling each other up' part,” you chuckle as a finger brushes over one of Jungkook’s nipples. He gasps and quickly throws a hand over his mouth.
Jungkook is shaking as your fingers trail up and down his exposed arm next.
“Feeling a little shy?” You whisper as you place a few small kisses on the shell of his ear.
“Y-you just make me nervous is all.”
His confident demeanor that you initially met with at the beginning of your trip continues to crumble as he turns soft and shy with only a few touches.
You adjust on the lounge chair so that you’re on your side pressed against him with one leg slung over his thigh. He visibly gulps at the shift in position, his hands unsure where to be until he settles for one on your hip and the other on your thigh.
“It’s funny, Jungkookie. When I first met you were so loud and obnoxious. You had this overconfident air to you that was so typical of so many guys I’ve met. But this other version of Jungkook is so soft and quiet.”
“It’s your fault.” He says through gritted teeth as your knee grazes his crotch. “You know how to make me like this.”
Feeling proud that you can make someone like Jungkook putty in your hands, you move up and turn his face towards you. His brown eyes are blown wide as he takes in your appearance. You’re sure you look just as eager.
You pull Jungkook into a kiss, lips knocking together sloppily but you deepen it anyway, your mouths eventually finding a heated pace. Jungkook pulls you closer making most of your body drape over him. The kiss quickly turns into a full-blown make-out session, the two of you only pulling back when Krystal walks by on her way into the house from the beach.
“This feels like public indecency!” Her voice makes you and Jungkook pull apart. She lets out a cackle at the look you shoot her, but doesn’t say anything else as she goes inside.
You let out a huff and lay back down next to Jungkook. He takes a few breaths, still clearly recovering, then says he has to head out. His mom asked him to grab some things for her before this evening and he wants to get that done so he can focus on your date.
“I’ll be back to pick you up at 6.” He says after placing a kiss on your forehead. You watch him go before beelining to your room to find something to wear.