#dance major jungkook

[jungkoode]

5 SECONDS TO FREEDOM | prologue

˗ˏˋ debts unpaid ˎˊ˗

"In Tokyo's underground, there are only two currencies that matter—respect and reputation. When someone threatens to take both, you don't just race them. You destroy them."

next | index

⋆｡°✩ chapter details ✩°｡⋆

word count: 3.5k

content: street racing culture, debt collection, first meetings, midnight races, dangerous driving, Spanish endearments as provocation, the dynamics of Tokyo's underground scene, and your first defeat in nineteen months.

✧ author's note ✧

Soooo here we fucking go.

I've been obsessing over this story for months—I think we all know that lmaooo I think I posted the teaser like a couple months ago and I was devastated because it barely got 50 notes. But you know what, this was still in my head so I did write some drabbles—and I kind of shaped the prologue, which is what you’re gonna read below hahaha.

“But Kiki we just sent you 45 asks telling you to rest” AND I SAID SIKE??? No actually, I’m okay I promise! Usually writing different stories is what prevents me from burning out, because I get frustrated with the same storyline so it’s like… I write something else and my brain goes ‘yay thanks’. You know, ADHD—shiny new toy, mind dances to the music.

Anyways, so. I love this. I love this because as always I get to experiment with different personalities and psychological backgrounds and what I fucking love about these two is the masks they wear and how opposite they are. He’s cocky and arrogant, but in a different way FMU!jungkook is. She’s determined and ambitious, always pushing for more, but still very distinct from all my other Y/N’s because she’s handling different situations (you’ll see in later chapters).

And Hachiroku and Jaque aren't just racing personas—they're escapes. And what makes this delicious is that they're running from opposite lives. One from privilege, one from struggle. Both finding freedom in the same five seconds at the starting line.

And yes, the cars matter. They're not just vehicles; they're extensions of identity. The AE86 is legendary for a reason—not the most powerful, but perfectly balanced in the hands of someone who knows exactly what they're doing (sound familiar?). Meanwhile, the R34 Skyline is raw, unapologetic power held in check by someone who understands precisely when to unleash it.

AS ALWAYS—READ THE AUTHOR INTRO AND TW listed in the index post. This is a must before reading this story.

Fair warning: this isn't going to be a clean race. These characters are messy. They make decisions that will make you want to scream at them. They'll crash into each other's lives and leave debris everywhere, and the kind of attraction that feels like a guardrail giving way on a mountain pass.

But that's the point, isn't it? The most interesting stories happen in the dangerous curves.

So buckle up. We've got a long road ahead.

Ready? Light’s about to turn green.

Also. Notes for this one are pretty high, that’s intentional. Like I just wanted to post the prologue to have it out for a bit but I still need to work on the arcs and major plot points. So I don’t have the story fully shaped out for now, which is why I want this to rest and check for engagement and reactions. Seriously—don’t crash out, I know this one will take time and that’s absolutely my intention!

⋆｡°✩ read on✩°｡⋆

ao3

wattpad

Respect isn't given in Tokyo's underground—it's paid in cash or blood.

You roll the cherry lollipop against your teeth, counting seconds in your head like engine timing.

Two weeks. Fourteen days. Three hundred and thirty-six hours since you left Kalo and his overpriced Supra in your rearview on the Hakone downhill, his taillights disappearing around the corner while you took the perfect line through the hairpin that everyone else brakes too hard for.

It's nighttime at Daikoku.

You cross one leg over the other, letting your heeled boot dangle casually off the edge of your AE86's hood. The mini skirt wasn't a random choice. Neither was showing up without your racing gear.

Because tonight isn't about driving—it's about collecting.

"Kalo's nowhere to be seen," Maya says, leaning against your car's hood, arms crossed. "Dipped hard."

You don't bother looking at her, just shift the lollipop to the other side of your mouth with your tongue. The neon from nearby signs reflects off the polished black and white paint of your 86.

"What?" Maya catches your expression. "I'm just saying. Word is he's been avoiding this spot since you embarrassed him."

"While still flashing cash at that club in Roppongi," you add, voice flat. "Buying drinks for anyone who'll listen to his bullshit version of what happened on the mountain."

You tug at one of the layered chains around your neck, watching the crowd that's gathered tonight.

The usual suspects are here—wannabes with more money than skill taking photos of each other's cars, veterans huddled around hoods talking suspension setups, scouts looking for the next race.

Everyone except the one person who should be here with your money.

"So what's the plan?" Maya nudges your shoulder. "Just gonna sit here looking pretty until he magically appears?"

You roll your eyes. "Since when do I just sit and wait for anything?"

"Fair point." She grins that wolfish grin of hers. "So?"

"So I track his ass down." You twist the lollipop stick between your fingers. "He owes me fifty thousand yen. But more than that, he owes me the respect of paying up and admitting I smoked him fair and square."

Maya snorts, exactly as you expected. "Called it. Knew you wouldn't let this slide."

"It's not about the money." You straighten up, adjusting your cropped leather jacket. "It's about the principle. You lose a race, you pay your debts. That's how this works. You don't just disappear like some amateur who can't handle defeat."

"Especially not when he talked all that shit beforehand," Maya adds, picking at her black nail polish. "What was it he said again? Something about how no girl could ever handle his—"

"'No girl could handle my power on the downhill,'" you quote dryly. "Right before I passed him on the outside of that corner everyone brakes for."

The memory brings a slight smile to your face.

The shock in his eyes when you appeared in his side mirror where no car should have been able to fit.

The desperate overcorrection that sent him nearly scraping the guardrail while you smoothly accelerated away.

"Exactly." Maya pushes off your hood. "So what's the first move? Hit his usual spots?"

You pull the lollipop from your mouth with a pop. "Already did. Club Seventh in Roppongi. The garage where his uncle works in Setagaya. That ramen shop he's always at in Shibuya."

"Stalker much?" Maya raises an eyebrow.

"Thorough," you correct her. "There's a difference."

A brief silence falls between you as you both watch a metallic blue GT-R roll into the lot, bass thumping hard enough to vibrate the pavement.

Not Kalo's crowd—these guys run with the Yokohama crew.

"Kenji might know," you say finally, referring to your mutual friend who somehow knows everyone's business in Tokyo's racing scene. "He mentioned Kalo's been hanging around some new spot in Meguro the past week."

Maya pulls out her phone. "Want me to text him now?"

"Already did." You tap your boot against the bumper of your car. "He's supposed to meet us here in—" you check the time on your wrist "—fifteen minutes ago."

"Typical." Maya rolls her eyes. "That guy couldn't be on time if his life depended on it."

You're about to respond when you spot a familiar face weaving through the crowd. Kenji, with his signature sunglasses despite it being well past midnight, making his way toward you.

You straighten up slightly, not wanting to appear too eager for information.

"Ladies," he greets with that irritating smirk of his, adjusting his sunglasses even though there's absolutely no need. "Looking dangerous tonight, Y/N. Someone's not here to race."

"Just tell me what you know about Kalo," you say, cutting through his bullshit.

Kenji leans against your car without asking—a liberty you allow only because he's useful.

"Direct as always. That's what I like about you."

"Kenji," you warn, patience already wearing thin.

"Fine, fine." He holds up his hands in surrender. "Your boy's been hanging at this new garage in Meguro. Place called Midnight Rush. Trying to get in with that crew that runs the Wangan on weekends."

You raise an eyebrow. "The twins' territory? That's desperate even for him."

"After what you did to his reputation?" Kenji shrugs. "Man's gotta find somewhere to start over."

Maya laughs. "Not how this works. You don't just reset when you lose."

"Exactly." You shift your weight, boot heels clicking against the pavement. "So he's there tonight?"

"Should be. They're prepping for some big run tomorrow. Word is there's serious money changing hands. He's trying to buy his way in."

The conversation halts as the distinctive growl of an approaching engine cuts through the night.

Not just any engine—something with a tune you've never heard before.

Sharp. Aggressive. Perfectly balanced.

Heads turn as a midnight purple Skyline R34 GT-R glides into the parking area, before coming to a stop under the harsh parking lot lights.

"Who the hell is that?" Maya straightens up, suddenly alert.

Kenji's expression shifts from boredom to interest in an instant—a rare change for him. "New player. Goes by Jaque."

You study the car, assessing rather than admiring.

Aftermarket body kit, but tasteful. Custom wheels. The stance is aggressive but functional.

Whoever built this wasn't just throwing money at it—they knew exactly what they were doing.

"Jaque?" you repeat, keeping your voice neutral despite your curiosity. "What kind of name is that?"

"Latino guy. Showed up about a month ago." Kenji lowers his voice, shifting into the gossip mode he lives for. "Been cleaning up. Undefeated so far."

Your eyebrow rises slightly at that.

Undefeated is a bold claim in this scene.

"Never heard of him," Maya says, voicing what you're thinking.

"That's because he's been running mostly on the Wangan line. Outrunning cops, taking stupid risks. The kind of shit that gets you noticed fast." Kenji's eyes remain fixed on the car. "Word is he beat Hayato's record on the C1 loop last week."

That gets your attention, though you're careful not to show it.

Hayato's record has stood for three years.

This guy has broken it in a month.

Who the fuck is this?

Your question is answered when the driver's door opens, and the crowd's murmur intensifies. A figure emerges, oozing the confidence of someone who knows they belong anywhere they choose to be.

Not tall, but with a presence that fills the space around him. Dark hair, sharp jawline, and a smirk that suggests he's already three steps ahead of everyone else.

"He drives like he's got nothing to lose," Kenji adds, a note of genuine respect in his voice that you rarely hear. "Like he doesn't care if he crashes or dies. It's... I don’t know man. Something else."

You watch as the driver—Jaque, apparently—leans back against his Skyline, surveying the crowd like he's taking inventory.

His gaze sweeps across the parking lot, until it lands on your group.

Or more specifically, on you.

He gives you a small nod, as if acknowledging territory.

"Looks like you've got an admirer," Maya mutters, nudging your ribs.

You shrug, unimpressed. "Looks like another ego with a nice car."

But you don't look away, and neither does he. It's a standoff of sorts, neither willing to be the first to break eye contact.

You've played this game before with countless racers who thought they were hot shit.

You've never been the first to look away.

"Don't dismiss him so quickly," Kenji warns, surprising you. "I've seen him drive. I’m dead serious, it’s not normal."

"Nobody's unbeatable," you say, finally breaking the staring contest to look back at Kenji.

Just because you had to look back at Kenji.

"Maybe." Kenji shifts uncomfortably. "But this guy... he doesn't race like a normal person. It's like he's got some kind of death wish, but with the skill to back it up."

You scoff, though something about Kenji's tone—the genuine concern beneath his usual bullshit—gives you pause.

"Death wish or not, a car's a car, and physics is physics. There are rules to this game that nobody breaks."

Maya's watching you with that knowing look she gets when she can tell someone's gotten under your skin, even just a little.

"You want to find out, don't you?"

"I want to find Kalo and get my money," you correct her, though your eyes drift back to the Skyline against your will. "That's why we're here."

You scoff at Maya's knowing smirk, about to tell her to shut it when fragments of conversation float over from where the newcomer stands. One word cuts through the ambient noise of engines and chatter.

Kalo.

Your head snaps toward the source.

The Skyline guy—Jaque—leans against his car, talking to a small circle of racers. His hands move expressively as he speaks, gold bracelet catching the neon light.

"Kenji." You cut him off mid-sentence. "Who exactly is this guy talking to?"

Kenji follows your gaze. "Nobody important. Some Yokohama kids trying to get noticed." He adjusts those stupid sunglasses. "Why?"

"He just mentioned Kalo."

Maya straightens beside you. "You sure?"

No mistaking it. Not when you've been hunting that name for two weeks.

"Excuse me," you say, already moving.

Maya sighs behind you. "Here she goes again."

You don't look back. Your boots click purposefully across the pavement, moving slowly. Not rushing—you never rush. But determined.

Three guys surrounding Jaque glance up as you approach, their expressions shifting from interest to wariness. They know who you are.

He doesn't turn immediately. Keeps talking, voice carrying a rhythm unlike anything you've heard in Tokyo. An accent that doesn't belong here.

Only when you're close enough to count the stitches on his leather jacket does he acknowledge your presence.

And even then, it's just a partial turn. Forty-five degrees. Neck cradling slightly to look at you sideways.

Performative, if anything. Like he knew you were coming before you did.

You cross your arms, weight shifting to one hip. His mouth twitches upward at the corner, eyes traveling from your face down to your boots and back up again.

Not subtle about it at all.

"To what do I owe the pleasure of this sight?" Velvet slides from his lips.

One eyebrow quirks upward, the slightest movement. His Japanese is fluent but different—consonants softened, vowels stretched in places they shouldn't be.

You narrow your eyes. "You mentioned Kalo. What do you know about him? What's your relationship?"

He studies you for two full seconds. Not answering. Just looking. Like he's trying to read something written in small print.

Then he chuckles, using two fingers to move a thin strand of dark hair that's fallen across his view. The movement is unnecessary. Theatrical. Done for effect.

"Why so serious, princesa?"

It’s Spanish, the last word. You know that much, know from the way the word rolls off his tongue, deliberate, inserted where it doesn't belong. Like he’s testing boundaries, hoping for a reaction.

"I asked you a question." You keep your voice unimpressed.

"And I asked you one too."

He turns to face you fully now, leaning back against his car with the casualness of someone who's never been afraid of anything.

"But since you came all this way... Kalo. The Supra guy, right? The one who races like he learned driving from a video game?"

The description is so accurate you almost smile.

Almost.

"I hear he owes someone money," he continues, watching your reaction carefully. "Someone who smoked him on the mountain course two weeks back. Embarrassed him so badly he's been hiding like a scared rabbit."

His three companions take subtle steps backward, no longer interested in being part of this conversation.

Smart.

Maya appears beside you, silent backup. Though her presence changes nothing in his demeanor.

"And how would you know about that?" you ask.

He shrugs one shoulder.

"People talk. I listen." His accent thickens when he adds, "Es lo que hago." (It’s what I do)

"Is that right?" You don't react to the Spanish. "Interesting that someone who just showed up knows so much about other people's business."

"I'm observant."

His eyes lock with yours.

"For example, I observe that you're not here to race tonight. That outfit? Those heels?" He clicks his tongue. "You're here to collect. To make a point."

Something cold slides down your spine. Not fear—you don't do fear. Something else.

Being read so easily isn't a sensation you're familiar with.

"What's your name again?" You ask it like you've already forgotten, though you haven't.

"Jaque." He says it with a slight emphasis on the second syllable. "And you're Y/N. The 86 driver who hasn't lost a mountain race in what, two years?"

"Nineteen months," Maya corrects automatically.

You shoot her a look.

Jaque's smile widens. "Nineteen months. Impressive."

"If you're done wasting my time," you say, turning slightly, "I have a debt to collect."

"From a guy who isn't here."

He pushes off his car, closing the distance between you by half a step. Not enough to be threatening. Just enough to make his presence unavoidable.

"And won't be. Not tonight," he adds.

"And you know that how?"

"Because I passed him on the expressway heading in the opposite direction. About twenty minutes ago." He taps his wrist where a watch would be. "Running scared, looked like."

You clench your jaw. If he's telling the truth, you've wasted your night. Another dead end in your hunt for the coward who owes you.

"So you just happened to recognize a stranger's car?" Maya asks, skepticism heavy in her voice.

"A white Supra with that terrible aftermarket body kit and the Rising Sun decal on the hood?" He makes a dismissive gesture. "Hard to miss. Hard to forget, unfortunately."

That description matches Kalo's car exactly; and the sick feeling in your stomach tells you he's not lying, as much as you'd like him to be.

"Well," you say, voice cooling by several degrees, "thanks for the information."

You turn to leave, disgusted at having your time wasted. First by Kalo's absence, now by this newcomer who clearly just wanted to get your attention. Another night, another waste.

"I'll pay you double what he owes you."

The words stop you mid-step.

You turn back slowly, measuring every movement.

"Excuse me?"

Jaque's expression hasn't changed, but something in his eyes has.

They’re gleaning.

"Fifty thousand yen, right? I'll make it a hundred." He says casually, like offering to buy a coffee. "If you beat me."

Maya makes a small sound beside you, something between a scoff and a laugh.

"And why would I race someone I don't know for money I don't need?"

You almost laugh. As if this is about the money. You were born into more yen than he’s ever seen—this is about respect. About principle. About owning your loss when someone beats you clean. No excuses. No saving face. Just bow your head and pay what you owe.

But he’s not done.

"Because you're curious." He says it like it's obvious. "Because you've been the best for nineteen months and you're bored. Because you want to know if I'm as good as they say."

"As good as who says?" You roll your eyes. "I've never heard of you before tonight."

"Then I must be doing something right." His smile shifts, becomes syrupy. "But if money doesn't motivate you, how about this—I win, I get to run with your crew. Race in your territory."

You can't help it—you laugh. Short and dismissive.

"That's not how this works. You don't just buy your way in." Your eyes flick to his car. "No matter how pretty your GT-R is."

"I'm not buying," he corrects, that accent slipping into his Japanese again. "I'm earning. Difference."

You narrow your eyes.

Maya leans close to your ear. "You're not seriously considering this?"

You should walk away. This guy is nobody. A newcomer with a nice car and too much confidence. The racing scene sees them every month. They come, they crash, they disappear.

But.

Something about the way he stands there, utterly certain of himself, gets under your skin.

Like he already knows your answer before you do.

And maybe it's the wasted night. Maybe it's two weeks of hunting Kalo with nothing to show for it. Maybe it's just the need to put someone in their place.

"One race," you hear yourself say.

Maya's head whips toward you in surprise.

"One race," you continue, "and when I win, you pay double what Kalo owes me, and you don't bother me again."

"And when I win," he counters, not missing a beat, "I race with your crew. Simple."

"If," you correct.

"When." He doesn't back down.

One calculated step closer brings his scent into focus. Leather, naturally, but beneath it something that doesn't compute. A scent that belongs to ryokan inns and meditation halls, not this arrogant foreigner.

Hinoki.

"You're awfully confident for someone who knows nothing about me or how I drive."

"And you're awfully defensive for someone who's supposedly unbeatable." His voice drops lower, meant for your ears only. "What are you afraid of, princesa?"

The Spanish word again. A barb. Challenging.

"Afraid?" You match his tone. "I'm trying to save you the embarrassment. And the money."

He laughs, so genuine that it catches you off guard. "So it's settled then. You and me. Tonight."

From the corner of your eye, you see Kenji approaching, drawn by the developing scene. Others are watching too.

Word travels fast in this world.

"Fine." You extend your hand, a formality in this world of verbal contracts. "My terms. My course."

He takes your hand. His grip is firm but not aggressive. Just right. His palm warm against yours.

"Your course," he agrees. "But I pick when."

You raise an eyebrow. "When, then?"

His smile widens, showing teeth. "Now."

Death has a rhythm.

Tonight, it sounds like Daddy Yankee.

The mountain is yours—every curve, every shadow, every inch of guardrail. You've memorized each crack in the asphalt like the lines on your palm.

Yet as you sit at the starting line, engine purring, the midnight purple Skyline beside you blasts "Gasolina" loud enough to vibrate your windows.

He's not even looking at the road.

Jaque's got hand on the wheel, the other tapping the window frame in rhythm.

Kenji stands between the cars, arms raised.

You grip your steering wheel tighter.

Focus. Calculate. This is your mountain. Your rules.

"Ready!" Kenji shouts.

You check your gauges, settle into position, drop your breath rate. Your 86 is an extension of your body.

"Set!"

Jaque turns to you—actually turns his head away from the road—and winks.

Winks.

What the fuck is his problem?

Your jaw clenches so hard you hear teeth grinding.

"GO!"

You snap into the first gear immediately, launching forward as your tires bite into asphalt. Perfect traction. Perfect release. Your 86 shoots ahead exactly as calculated, exactly as it always does.

The Skyline stays even.

First corner approaches—tight right-hander with a nasty camber that catches amateurs by surprise. You brake at the perfect moment, downshift, feel the weight transfer as you clip the apex.

Textbook. Flawless. The corner you've taken hundreds of times.

The Skyline mirrors you exactly, staying in your blind spot. The bass from his music is still thumping through the night air.

Second corner. Third. Fourth. Each attack perfect, each line immaculate. And still, he's there. Not gaining, not falling behind. Just... present. Like a shadow you can't shake.

"What the hell is this guy playing at?" You mutter, taking the next hairpin with a controlled aggression that should give you an advantage.

Should.

Doesn't.

The Skyline follows, its midnight paint swallowing the moonlight instead of reflecting it. Through the next three corners, it continues—you lead, he follows, neither gaining ground.

Until the straightaway.

The road opens up, and you floor it. The 86 responds instantly, pushing you back into your seat. This is where your lighter weight should shine.

But the Skyline surges forward, twin-turbo engine unleashing a growl that slices the night.

He passes you.

Not aggressively. Not dangerously.

Just... efficiently.

Like it's the most natural thing in the world.

For the first time in nineteen months, you're staring at someone else's taillights.

"No fucking way."

You push harder, finding speed you rarely tap into. The gap closes slightly on the approach to the next corner—a sharp left with a cliff drop on the outside.

No guardrail. No room for error.

Normal people brake early here.

Jaque, as it turns out, is not normal people.

You don't brake until the last possible microsecond, throwing the 86 into the corner. The tires scream, traction at its absolute limit. You can feel them searching for grip, dancing on the edge of adhesion.

You exit the corner a car length behind him.

"Come on!" You slam the gearshift, pushing for more.

The next section is technical—five corners in quick succession. Your territory.

It's where precision matters more than power.

You close the gap. Corner by corner, inch by inch. Three more and you're on his bumper. Close enough to see his fingers still tapping against the frame slightly to the rhythm.

The next hairpin is your chance. The inside line is risky—there's barely enough room—but it's your mountain.

You know exactly how much space you need.

You dive for the gap.

For one beautiful moment, you're alongside him. Equal. Your front bumper inches past his door.

Then he does something impossible.

Instead of defending the line—instead of doing what any rational driver would do—Jaque throws his car into a drift so aggressive it sends the back end swinging wide, nearly touching the guardrail.

The move creates an arc that cuts you off, forces you to brake or crash.

You brake.

The maneuver costs him speed, should give you another chance to pass on exit.

But before you can capitalize, he's already accelerating out of the drift, the Skyline's all-wheel drive finding traction where none should exist.

"What the actual—"

The move was insane. Suicidal. The kind of thing that ends with twisted metal and sirens.

And he pulled it off like he was parallel parking.

For the final stretch—three corners and the last straightaway—you throw caution aside. Push beyond limits you usually respect. The 86 responds, giving everything it has.

It's not enough.

The Skyline crosses the finish line two car lengths ahead. You slam your palm against the steering wheel.

The taste of defeat is metallic in your mouth, foreign and despised.

You bring the 86 to a hard stop, tires protesting at the sudden deceleration.

The music still pounds from his car. That same goddamn song.

You throw open your door, adrenaline and anger propelling you forward. The cool mountain air hits your flushed face as you storm toward his car.

Because that last move? It wasn't just reckless—it was deadly. The kind of stunt that gets people killed on these mountains.

Words build in your throat. Sharp words. Words about respect for the mountain and death wishes and arrogance.

His door swings open as you approach. The music blasts louder without the barrier of glass and metal. He slides out with that same casual grace you saw when he called you princesa, when he winked before accelerating.

And something stops the words in your throat.

He shakes his head slightly, dark hair falling across his eyes before he pushes it back with one smooth motion. His other hand remains on the Skyline's roof, some golden ring catching the moonlight.

When he turns to face you, there's no triumph in his expression. No arrogance.

Just... satisfaction.

Like he's found something he's been looking for.

His eyes meet yours across the short distance. That smile appears again—not the cocky smirk from earlier, but something more genuine. Lips curved just slightly at the corners.

"Thanks for the adrenaline rush, mami," he says, voice carrying over the pounding beat of Daddy Yankee.

You've never hated Spanish music more in your life.

goal: 500 notes

taglist: @cannotalwaysbenight @taevescence @itstoastsworld @somehowukook @stutixmaru @chloepiccoliniii @kimnamjoonmiddletoe @annyeongbitch7 @mar-lo-pap @mikrokookiex @minniejim @curse-of-art @cristy-101 @mellyyyyyyx @rpwprpwprpwprw @jkrailme @graydolan12

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[tacoguacamole]

ANOTHER TIME | JJK - 6

Summary: All you wanted was time. Time to love your husband. Time to feel him love you back. To see his smile again, not shadowed by grief and resentment. Time to share laughter instead of silence, warmth instead of distance. To feel his arms around you, not the cold of where he used to be. Time to hear “I love you too” before it’s too late. Time should’ve been simple.

But somehow, it always slips through your fingers just when you need it most.

[Pairing: Creative Director!Jungkook x Ceo!Female Reader]

[Theme: Marriage AU. BF2L2S]

[Warnings: Major Angst, Multiple Flashbacks and Time Jumps, Mature Theme, Smut, Mature/Explicit Language, A lot of fluff, Romance, Slowburn]

[Older JK, Older OC, Older Bangtan, Lawyer Seokjin and Namjoon, Doctor Yoongi, Event Planner Hobi, Solo idol Jimin, Secretary Taehyung, Brief cameos of Seventeen Mingyu, GOT7 Mark, Kook's a jerk and mean for the earlier chapters]

[Status: Ongoing]

[Part 1. Part 2. Part 3. Part 4. Part 5. Part 6. Chapter Word Count: 7k+]

[Chapter Summary: In the soft glow of old rooms and familiar glances, something warm began to stir again — not forgiveness, not yet, but something close enough to ache. And when the dance came, and he reached for you like he always did, you let him — even knowing what came before, and what might come after.]

[MINORS DNI! 18+]

When you reach the table, Jeongguk is already on his feet—chair pulled out for you before he even realizes he’s done it. Instinct, maybe. Muscle memory shaped by years of shared spaces and silent understandings.

He doesn’t look over right away. His jaw ticks, almost like he wants to say something—but the words never come.

Your eyes flick to his, something unreadable passing through you. “Thanks,” you murmur, just above the hum of music and conversation.

He steps aside. Lets you settle in. Follows quietly in his own seat. You don’t say anything else, and neither does he.

Across the table, one of Jeongguk’s younger cousins leans in with a wide grin. “Noona, you look so pretty! I didn’t recognize you for a second.”

You remember her from the wedding. You offer a polite smile, murmuring a quiet thank you.

His mother returns just then, placing a new platter in front of you. “Sweetheart, help yourself. I told the staff to keep your favorite japchae warm.”

“Thank you, Eomma-nim,” you offer a faint smile. “Smells really good.”

She pats your hand before moving on, a gentle touch that says she’s glad you’re here.

The table gradually grows louder with laughter and small toasts, plates scraping and glasses clinking gently.

You catch bits of conversations—Jeongguk’s brother talking about a new client, someone else griping about Seoul traffic.

Between the small talk, Jeongguk leans over, adds another round of japchae on your plate, along with a few bite-sized jeon. You don’t say anything. Just let your fingers brush the warm pieces.

His eyes meet yours for a brief second—quick and easy, like a passing glance—before he looks back at the group. The quiet clinking of glasses and low hum of voices fill the space, wrapping comfortably around you both.

Then a cousin pulls out her phone, turning it around with a grin. “Look at this! Do you guys remember this birthday party?”

Everyone leans in for a look. The photo is a bit blurry, like it was taken with an old digital camera. Jeongguk is in the center, frosting on his cheek. You’re next to him, laughing—your hand caught mid-air like you’d just smeared it. Both of you wearing silly paper crowns.

“She got him so good. I thought Eomma was going to faint,” Jeongguk’s brother chuckles from the other side of the table.

“You two looked like you ruled the world back then,” the cousin teases, nudging Jeongguk playfully.

You laugh along, but the image stays in your mind longer than it should—those crooked paper crowns, that frosting-smeared joy. Life felt simpler then.

Jeongguk doesn’t say anything but his eyes stays on the photo just as long as yours before he goes back to the japchae like he didn’t see it all.

The plates are mostly empty now—just a few bowls left half-full for people to pick at. The conversation flows more freely, slow and easy. Someone pours another round of drinks. Another launches into a story about a drunken Christmas, earning laughs and playful groans.

An aunt brings up the time you and Jeongguk got scolded for sticking googly eyes on all the family portraits. You smile at the memory—how you picked a fight with him for starting it, even tried to stick a few on his face for acting like a child. But in the end, you helped him take them all down. Both of you got an earful from his mother by the time she returned from the market.

The laughter and talking move around you, but your thoughts drift inside, caught between the quiet calm of the moment and the slow pace of the evening.

Dessert arrives—a simple plate of fruit shining under the soft lights. The quiet clinking of spoons on bowls mixes with the low sound of small talk.

Jeongguk shifts in his seat and looks at you, his eyes meeting yours for a moment—just long enough to show a flicker of something you can’t quite place. “Didn’t expect you to be here.”

Your hand pauses mid-spoon, the noise around you fades. “Didn’t expect to be here either.”

He lets out a quiet breath. “Why did you come?”

I know how it feels to get stuck in a loop of lies in front of our families. Been doing that for years. I’ve been covering for you for years. I don’t want to put you in that position. The words get trapped in your mind.

Instead, a smile slips out. “Couldn’t miss the cheesecake.”

He chuckles softly, the sound easing some of the tension. “Always knew you had your priorities straight.”

You groan. “Don’t remind me about priorities. Just escaped Mark’s babble about rebooking plane tickets for the team.”

He lets out a quiet laugh. “Mark can be... persistent.”

You nod, half-smiling. “I am too but today was a bit much.”

Jeongguk stays quiet for a second, eyes tracing the movement of your spoon, before he speaks again. “I’m sorry about earlier. Didn’t mean to snap at you.”

You nod quietly, your eyes meeting his for a moment before you turn back to your dessert, ignoring his lingering gaze from the corner of your eye.

Around you, voices rise and fall like waves. Someone taps their glass for a toast. A cousin starts telling a story—part true, part exaggerated—and the table bursts into laughter again, glasses raised.

You stay at the table a little longer, answering questions about work and dodging a compliment about your dress. Your eyes drifts toward where Jeongguk has slipped away, toward the bar nestled against the far wall of the living room.

Eventually, you follow him there, the family conversations blending into the background. The warm light from the hanging lamps casts soft amber pools over the polished wood and glass. The air feels cooler here, and the voices are quieter—just a few guests remain, speaking in low, relaxed tones.

He’s quietly fixing a drink for both of you then nudges toward your glass without a word.

You accept it with a small nod. “It’s louder than I remember.”

Jeongguk hums. “So much for a small party. Think everyone from Busan and Seoul is here.”

You let out a soft laugh, fingers curling around the cool glass. “She deserves it,” you watch the way his eyes follow the movement in the room. “They all came for her.”

He nods, then glances your way. “You holding up okay?”

You nod once. “It’s just... a lot of faces.”

Jeongguk doesn’t press further. Just stands beside you in the soft light, with the kind of silence that doesn’t need filling. He lifts his glass, tipping it slightly toward yours. You do the same, sharing a quiet toast to the small moment of peace between you.

That’s when his mother appears, moving gracefully through the room wearing her birthday sash—now a bit crooked. Her cheeks are pink from the warmth and joy of the celebration, her smile easy and genuine. She spots the two of you by the bar and lights up instantly.

With a familiar warmth, she places a hand on each of your shoulders.

“Look at my beautiful children,” she says with playful pride. “I missed you both. Ggukie, do you remember your birthday five years ago? She planned the whole thing behind your back. Even your silly Avengers cake.”

Jeongguk lets out a quiet chuckle. “That cake was awesome.”

You smile faintly, eyes fixed on the candlelight across the room. “Took me two bakeries and a borderline argument with Taehyung to pull it off.”

His mother laughs softly, a touch of nostalgia in her voice. “Those were good times. I miss having you both here like that. The house felt warmer when you visited together.”

A colleague calls her over, and she floats off with a soft hum, leaving behind a warmth that lingers a moment longer.

Jeongguk sighs. “I’m sorry about Eomma.”

You want to say something, but the words get stuck. Your chest feels tight and heavy. It’s not because of his mother. It’s everything else—the calm of the evening, the familiar feel of the house when it’s full, and how things seem almost normal again, like nothing was ever broken.

It’s not the silence that gets to you—it’s the warmth. The soft happiness that slipped in when you weren’t paying attention. And somehow, that’s the part that hurts the most.

From the front of the room, your father-in-law begins lighting the candles on the cake. You’re relieved when he calls Jeongguk to join beside his brother.

The lights dim further, guests gathering toward the center where the dessert table glows under a string of fairy lights. Laughter bubbles near the front, and voices join together, starting the birthday song. The whole room shifts forward.

You step back slightly, lean against a nearby table, and join the clapping with the rest of the guests.

Jeongguk blends in the front easily, his posture relaxed, smile quiet. You see the way his mother beams beside him, and how he leans into her touch when she squeezes his arm.

Mrs. Jeon is ushered closer toward the cake, your father-in-law gently guiding her with a hand at her back. Guests crowd around, phones raised, voices rising in cheerful noise.

“Say something cheesy when you blow it out!” someone calls.

“Like what?” she laughs, cheeks flushed from wine and attention.

“Wish for true love!” another shouts, drawing groans and chuckles.

She turns, gaze skimming over the room before landing on you. Then to Jeongguk by her side. She doesn’t say anything. Just smiles—a little too long, a little too knowing.

The candles flicker.

She blows them out.

The room erupts in applause. When it dies down, voices rise again. Someone puts on music—something upbeat and familiar—a few guests start dancing, with Jeongguk's brother leading the fun, drinks in hand.

You shift your weight, fingers grazing the rim of your half-empty glass. The closeness, the laughter, the mix of voices—it’s all too much. Not unpleasant, just heavy, like the air’s grown thick with every friendly smile.

A laugh rings too loudly by your ear. You flinch before you mean to.

You tell yourself you're just looking for a quieter place to freshen up, maybe grab a breath of air. But your feet move on instinct, carrying you toward the main staircase before you can question it.

Upstairs, the hall is calmer—dimmer. You pass the guest bathroom, the library, the game room Jeongguk and his brother used to spend hours in, shouting over video games and accusing each other of cheating. You’d walked in once with snacks and ended up refereeing a heated debate over who unplugged the console mid-match. Neither of them ever admitted it.

Then, just past the corner, you pause—half a second too long—at the room with the faint scuff on the baseboard, where your suitcase once left a dent.

You hesitate, then slip in, leaving the door slightly ajar.

The bedroom looks like it hasn’t changed much—tidy, a bit plain, except for the old Iron Man posters above the desk, their edges curling slightly. The bed’s made with tight, careful corners, like someone was trying too hard to keep things in place. The feeling is the same—quiet, worn-in, soft with the kind of stillness that settles after years of living.

Your fingers brush the edge of the bookshelf. A row of framed photos remains on the dresser—some of Jeongguk and his brother, some older family shots, and tucked behind them, a faded strip from a photo booth.

You and him. Younger.

“Five thousand won for this?” you had asked, staring up at the tiny booth wedged between a claw machine and a fried chicken stall. It looked like it had been there since the ’90s, complete with flickering bulbs and a busted coin slot. “You know that’s basically robbery.”

Jeongguk had just grinned, already digging into his wallet. “It’s for the aesthetic.”

“It smells like burnt plastic in there.”

“Romance,” he said with a wink. “Now get in.”

You’d sighed dramatically but followed him in anyway, cramming your legs against his under the cramped vinyl bench. The seat squeaked under your weight.

“I think something just poked me.”

“Probably the ghost of someone else who paid five thousand won for blurry pictures.”

You elbowed him, and he laughed, pressing the button before you could fix your hair.

“Wait, I wasn’t—!”

Flash.

“God, you’re the worst,” you muttered, already sweating from the broken fan above.

“And yet you love me,” he said, tilting toward you with that smug little smile.

You meant to shove him away, but his lips were already brushing yours, a bit off-center, his nose bumping yours. You laughed against his mouth, too surprised to kiss back properly.

“Try again,” you whispered.

“Nope,” he said, smug. “That was pure. We leave it.”

Another flash went off.

You exhaled, relaxing into the narrow seat as the countdown started again. Jeongguk leaned his head onto your shoulder, quieter now. His hand found yours between your knees.

“You always do this,” you said softly.

“Do what?”

“Make something stupid feel like a memory.”

“That’s because it is one,” he said. “We’re gonna forget half our lives someday. Might as well waste our money on the parts we want to keep.”

There was no punchline that time. Just the hum of the fan and the final shutter going off.

Back in the room, your thumb hovers over the faded strip—four blurry frames, and his voice from years ago still lodged somewhere beneath your ribs.

You slide it gently back behind the others, and leave it there.

The room stays still around you. Just the faint hum of the party threading through the floorboards. You sit on the edge of the bed, lean back slightly on your palms, let out a breath. The weight in your chest begins to settle, not gone, but calmer now.

There’s a soft creak in the hallway.

You don’t turn. Somehow, you already know.

No surprise. Just the quiet fall of his footsteps and the soft trace of his cologne—lavender and clean cotton, like sun-dried sheets.

Jeongguk slips in, one hand on the door, quiet but not hesitant—just at ease. He doesn’t speak at first, only gives you a small, knowing look as he walks over and sets two paper plates on the nightstand.

“Got to these before the kids swarmed in,” he says, handing you one. “Figured you’d want first dibs.”

You shift forward on the bed as he nods toward the plates—his modest, yours far less so, a generous slice of cheesecake with its dense layers and frosting still holding firm, like it was picked out just for you.

“It’s from that bakery in Apgujeong,” he adds, getting comfortable beside you.

A small smile tugs at your lips. “Eomma really had to get it from that same place.”

“Unless you want the return of that kiwi monstrosity she was obsessed with.” Jeongguk says, already picking on his share.

You let out a quiet laugh. “God, I love your mother, but that old favorite deserved prison time.”

“I’d testify.”

You both eat in the calm that settles after, the silence easy. Only the light scrape of forks fills the room, along with the faint sound of kids laughing and running down the hallway. The old clock on the shelf stays stuck at 6:13—wrong for years now, but neither of you ever bothered to fix it.

Your eyes notice how slowly he eats, slicing the cheesecake like he’s got all night. But you know the truth—this hasn’t been his favorite for the last three years—you don’t call him out on it. Instead, your hand moves on its own, reaching over to steal a bite from his plate.

“What are you doing?” He pulls his share just out of reach.

“You’re eating like a snail. Don’t waste perfectly good cheesecake.”

“I’m savoring it.”

“You don’t even like it.”

Jeongguk shrugs, a faint smile tugging pulling at his lips, eyes fixed on yours, softening just a litte. “Maybe I just forgot how good it is.”

You hold his gaze—stady, unreadable—and for a moment, neither of you breathes. The silence stretches just long enough before a sharp voice breaks through from outside.

“You two better not be eating all the cake up there!” Mrs. Jeon calls, her tone teasing but firm.

Jeongguk stands, taking both your plates to set them aside. “Guess that’s our cue.”

Neither of you says much on the way out. The old bedroom fades behind you like a soft close of a memory until the sound of distant chatter pulls you back in.

Downstairs, the soft hum of conversation and clinking glasses picks back up. The air feels more relaxed now—comfortable, lived-in, like the remnants of a celebration slowly winding down but refusing to end just yet.

Mrs. Jeon is at the center of the room again, cheeks aglow with laughter and the comfort of old company, talking happily with her long-time friends. Mr. Jeon stands beside her, smiling quietly, a glass in his hand.

The music shifts—something slower now, familiar and warm—and a few guests begin swaying where they stand. One of their business partners nudges Mr. Jeon playfully. “Come on, show us how it’s done, you two.”

Mr. Jeon laughs, almost embarrassed, but Mrs. Jeon takes his hand with a theatrical sigh. “Just don’t step on my feet this time, Yeobo.”

The room breaks into applause as the couple begins to sway, moving gently in a rhythm that’s clearly theirs and theirs alone—years of love written in the way they fall into step without even trying.

You stand beside Jeongguk, the two of you watching quietly. The gentle, well-known melody floats through the air—like the memory of a quiet evening long ago, when you both moved slowly, close enough to hear each other’s breath.

“Jeongguk-ah, don’t just stand there.” Mrs. Jeon’s voice echoes across the room, light but still sharp. “You two, come join us now.”

You feel Jeongguk shift beside you, just slightly. His fingers twitch at his side like he’s about to move—but he doesn’t. The music keeps playing. Slow. Steady. Familiar in a way that sinks beneath your skin.

Mrs. Jeon is still smiling from her spot, waving you both over like it’s the easiest thing in the world. “Don’t make me come drag you two out here,” she calls, lighthearted but not really joking.

With a small flick of her hand, she gestures to Jeongguk’s brother near the speakers—he scrolls through his phone, lands on something, and presses play. The opening chords float in, warm and delicate, stirring a quiet memory deep inside.

You glance his way, but he keeps his eyes fixed ahead—brows furrowed, lips pressed into something unreadable. Like he's standing on the edge of something.

And you get it.

The last time you’ve danced together, was years ago – one winter evening, lights strung across the ceiling, your hands wrapped in his as some old carol played low. You’d laughed then, both of you a little tipsy, swaying barefoot in the middle of your home, like the world had stopped spinning just for a minute.

“Let’s just make up an excuse,” you look away, taking a steady breath. “We’re good at that, right?” You don’t expect anything more. Like you haven't been expecting from the years that had gone by.

But his hand reaches for yours. Not rushed. Not forced. Just there, warm and sure, fingers curling around yours like he’s done a thousand times.

“Come on,” he says, just barely above the music. “It’s our song.”

And somehow, that’s all it takes.

Jeongguk leads you into the soft glow of the room, where the lights are low and the air carries faint hints of vanilla and old perfume. His hand never leaves yours. When he turns toward you, waiting for you to fall into step, your breath catches.

Because you hadn’t expected this.

Not tonight. Not from him.

But here you are, swaying to the sound of something that feels a little like memory—and then slowly, it is.

▶️

The air smelled faintly of salt and sugar—like sea breeze mixed with frosting. A soft wind moved through the sheer linen curtains, carrying with it laughter, and the distant hush of waves.

The sky had turned a soft purple as the last light of the day slowly faded over the water. Lanterns hung above—soft amber lights strung loosely—casting a warm, flickering glow that made the wine glasses shine and the tulips look a deeper purple.

The music had turned quiet, almost a soft hum. A cool breeze from the water moved the ribbons tied to the chairs. The ivory silk around you swayed gently in the wind, shining a little in the light. Guests lingered with drinks in hand, their smiles soft, voices quieter now.

The lights had gone dim. The band shifts to a slower tune.

And just like that, the crowd parted.

You barely had time to react before Jeongguk was there again, already reaching for you, one hand offered like it was second nature. His jacket was unbuttoned, hair a little messy from the wind, tie just slightly loosened like he’d been tugging at it all day. But his eyes—God, his eyes—were fixed on you with a kind of quiet wonder, like he still couldn’t believe you were real.

“You ready?” he asked, though his thumb was already brushing over your knuckles, like he couldn’t wait.

You smiled, followed him to the center. The music began, gentle and slow, and when his arms wrapped around you, you fit there like you always had.

There were cheers at first, a few whistles and claps. But they faded as the melody settled into the notes you and Jeongguk have memorized at this point. The crowd let you disappear into it—just the two of you, swaying in a rhythm that wasn’t rehearsed, but felt as if it had been written into your bones long before this night.

“Still can’t believe you said yes to me,” he leaned in, cheek brushing yours. “Out of everyone… you chose me.”

Your hand curled slightly against his chest. His heartbeat was fast. Boyish. Nervous. Honest.

“I'll spend every day proving it,” he pulling you a little closer. “I’ll continue to love you so deeply, you won’t ever have to wonder what love really feels like."

You let out a small laugh, and he grinned, proud of himself. Like your joy was his favorite accomplishment.

“Even when we fight,” he added, softer now. “Even when it’s hard, I’ll be here. I swear it.”

He pulled back just enough to look at you then. And for a moment, the rest of the world fell away.

“I want everything with you,” he whispered. “Every season, every version of you, every day, I want it all.”

The sea murmured in the distance, as if it already knew you’d return to this place someday.

Behind you, tulips in soft purples and nudes caught the last bit of sunlight, nodding gently in the breeze like they were listening, too.

But neither of you looked away from each other.

Not when the song changed. Not when the world kept turning.

You stayed like that, swaying slow, hearts full and too young to imagine an end.

And Jeongguk, forehead pressed to yours, whispered one last thing as the lights flickered gently above,

“I’ll love you like this forever. Even if you forget, even if I ever lose my way—I’ll always come back to you. You’re where I belong. You’re my home.”

The words settle somewhere in your chest, warm and heavy. You don’t say anything. You don’t need to.

He holds you closer, and the world hums around you—soft music, distant voices, the hush of something delicate and safe.

And then, without warning, the air shifts.

A familiar rhythm picks up again, slow and even, almost like nothing changed at all. There’s a weight beneath your palm now, solid and broader than you remember. The fabric under your fingertips isn’t a pressed white shirt but something darker, smoother. Jeongguk’s scent is different, too—richer, more grounded.

But his touch? That’s the same.

You lean in, forehead gently resting against his collar. Your eyes slip shut, but the sting behind them won’t fade. You try to hold it in—hold yourself together. But your heart has always been too soft for moments like this - too full of love, too quick to feel everything all at once.

It happens quietly—just your breath hitching, a subtle pull in your shoulders. But Jeongguk still catches it. He always does. Like instinct now, shaped by years of knowing how you carry your feelings, even when you don’t say a word.

You try to steady yourself, fingers tightening around his hand without thinking. He doesn’t flinch. Just holds on like he always has - gentle, steady. Thumb brushing along your wrist, slow and calming, like he’s telling you he’s here. Like he means to stay.

He pulls you in closer, the space between you folding away like it never should’ve been there at all. His hand rests gently at the curve of your neck—warm, steady. Like he knows exactly what this is.

You feel it—the slow return of something lost. Something that says he remembers. Something that feels a little like home. You don’t want to let go of this moment. Never want to let go of him.

But you needed to. The closeness says too much. His silence says even more. You think you might fall apart from the weight of it all—how easy it feels, how dangerous that is.

So you do what you’ve always done. Break it off with anything random that comes to mind.

“…I want nuggets,” you whisper against the fabric of his shirt, “Six-piece. With sweet and sour. Fries too.”

He pauses. The music keeps playing, but everything else seems to still. Then, softly—so softly—you feel the way his body shakes with a quiet laugh, low and warm.

Jeongguk doesn’t pull away. Doesn’t tease. Probably knows what you're trying to do. Doesn't press. Just breathes out near your temple and whisper, “Let’s go then.”

You step back blinking up at him. “You’ve been drinking.”

He tilts his head, a crooked smiled playing on his lips. “Not going to drive and risk us. Especially not you.”

A few minutes and a quiet phone call later, his cousin drops the two of you off at a familiar corner that hasn’t changed. The golden arches still buzz faintly in the dark, and the breeze from the street feels colder than you remember.

You don’t ask why he picked this place of all the chains.. You just let him have it. Seems like he needed this. Maybe you both did.

Jeongguk orders for you both like he used to—no second guessing, no asking. You’re handed the bag before you can even reach for your wallet.

“Come on,” he murmurs, motioning with a tilt of his head.

You follow him around the side of the building where there’s a small metal bench tucked beneath a flickering streetlamp. And right across from it—just beyond the empty stretch of road—is the building you both once called home.

You sit beside him, paper bag rustling between you, the heat from the nuggets rising in soft steam. He passes you your sauce without a word, his shoulder brushing yours.

There’s no music here. No crowd. Just the hum of the city, the hush of shared silence, and the gentle touch of your knees.

You dip a nugget into the sauce. He steals one just like he always did. You let it happen, like you always did.

And somehow, just like this—sitting by old windows, eating something too unhealthy, feeling the cold nip at your cheeks—it becomes a little easier to breathe.

You glance across the street, eyes tracing the outline of your old apartment. A few windows are still lit, though most of them are dark. You wonder who lives there now. If anyone has fixed the cracks in the hallway walls. If the elevator still rattles like it’s held together by prayers and rust.

“You think the old man on the third floor ever fixed his door?” you ask, biting into another fry. “The one who used to slam it five times just to get it to shut.”

Jeongguk huffs a quiet laugh beside you. “Doubt it. He probably still slams it out of habit, even if it works now.”

You smile, shaking your head. “I used to jump every time.”

“You used to curse every time.”

“Only because you used to leave me in the hallway with groceries while you sprinted to the bathroom.”

He grins at that, leaning back slightly on the bench. “Hey, survival first. You knew what you were signing up for.”

You let the moment breathe, warm and a little ridiculous. Then you point toward a window on the fifth floor. “That was us, right? Top left?”

“Yeah,” he says, quieter now. “You hung your plants there. Even though there was barely any light.”

You smile again, smaller this time. “They died.”

“I tried to tell you.”

“I tried to ignore you.”

For a second, you both just sit there, the quiet stretching easy between you. Until Jeongguk breaks it with a murmur, not quite looking at you.

“Feels different now, doesn’t it?”

You pause, choosing your words carefully. “Maybe we’re just the ones who changed.”

He doesn’t answer right away. Just presses his thumb against the band on his finger, turning it slightly, like he’s reminding himself of something he doesn’t want to forget.

“Maybe,” he says at last. “Or maybe I just found my way back.”

The words hang in the air longer than they should.

You peel open another packet of barbecue sauce, eyes still on the old apartment building across the street. The fifth floor window is dark. Still. Quiet. Like it’s waiting for something.

Jeongguk leans forward with his elbows on his knees, watching the slow blur of passing cars ahead.

“You ever think about how fast it all went?” he asks eventually, his voice lower now, almost lost to the wind. “Feels like I blinked and... here we are.”

You glance at him, but he’s still looking down the road. There’s a part of you that wants to ask, here we are where? Where you stand? Where you are now? Instead, you offer a small nod. “Sometimes.”

His fingers trace the rim of his cup, slow and aimless, like he's following a rhythm only he understands. “Funny how some things feel so far away,” he murmurs, eyes now fixed on a cat passing by. “Even when they’re just right there.”

You don’t respond. Can’t. Not when the back of your throat has started to sting again. So you reach into the paper bag between you, hoping for a distraction, only to find it empty. All twelve nuggets are gone. Yours. His. Mostly his.

You blink down at it. “Didn’t mean to eat all your food.”

He looks over, eyebrows raised. "You always do.”

And he smiles—not to tease, but in that quiet way he used to. There’s no edge to it, just warmth that sinks into your chest before you can stop it.

Then, with the smallest flick of his thumb, he reaches forward—wiping a smudge of sauce from the corner of your mouth.

Your breath catches. Just like it did back at the old convenience store where you'd argue about ice-cream and ramen flavors. You pull your scarf higher, hoping to hide the heat creeping up on your face.

The wrappers crinkle quietly between you, and Jeongguk’s finished drink cup sits forgotten by his side, long since watered down with melted ice.

A calm settles between you—quiet and easy, like something you didn’t realize you were missing until now.

“You always liked this spot,” he says, leaning back just enough to drape his arm behind you. “Even when it was freezing.”

You give a small shrug. “It made sense then. Everything kind of did.”

A breeze sweeps past. You reach up to fix a loose strand of hair that whips into your eyes, and somewhere beside you, Jeongguk shifts just slightly. You don’t notice it at first—not really. Just the smallest movement, the soft click of his phone in his hand.

Your eyes flick up. “Did you just take a picture of me?”

He doesn’t even look guilty. Just taps once on the screen, like it’s nothing. “You looked nice.”

You narrow your eyes. “That’s not the point.”

“What’s the point, then?” he asks, already thumbing through something. You catch the faint glow of Instagram stories flashing across his screen.

“The list,” you remind, setting your drink down. “Pictures of us. Taken together. You know—kept by me.”

Jeongguk blinks, playing innocent. “Right. Us. Together.” He holds up his phone, grinning. “But this isn’t of us. It’s just you. Technically, that’s not the same thing.”

You stare at him.

He adds, “The list never said I can’t take photos of you. Just that you keep the ones we take together. I didn’t break anything.”

You scoff. “The loopholes just keep coming, huh?”

“More like… overlooked details,” he shrugs you off casually. “Just working with what you gave me.”

You shake your head, but your lips twitch despite yourself. But still, you blurt out the words bothering you. “You really gonna post it?”

He pauses mid-scroll. “Why not?”

You lean back in your chair. “Because… you already had one girl on your story recently.”

The silence that follows is light but taut.

Jeongguk frowns a little. “What?”

You raise your brows. You don’t say her name. Didn't have to.

His brow furrows deeper. “I haven’t posted anyone but you for a long time. My page has just been you.” He turns his phone toward you like he means it. Like he genuinely doesn’t know what you’re talking about.

Your eyes scan it quickly—he’s right. It’s all old photos.

You at the beach, wearing a yellow dress that probably doesn’t fit anymore. The waves of Busan behind you, the sun in your eyes.

The purple tulips you hid behind the night he told you he loved you. A blur of flowers in the background next, his hand slipping a ring on your finger—he’s not in the frame, just you and the moment.

Sapporo—your first trip together. Snow clings to your hair and coat, as if it has a life of its own.

You behind a cloud of coffee steam, your vacation home kitchen faint in the back.

Just a few memories. Pieces from a much longer story scattered across his feed.

The last—

Not a trip, not a moment caught mid-laughter—just an ultrasound. Blurry, a little grainy, but unmistakable.

Ha-yun. Tiny, still forming, but already loved.

Your chest warms, folds in on itself. For a second, you forget what you meant to say. But then you remember—and you press on, gently, still wanting to jog his memory. “Passenger seat. Laughing at something. White heart emoji,” you say.

Jeongguk still looks clueless. So you take his phone, scroll through his archive. Find the story you needed. Tilt the screen his way.

The frown that follows isn’t confusion anymore. It’s anger. The kind you remember from the colder days, back when warmth had disappeared from your marriage and silence built walls around you.

You hadn’t seen that look lately. It sends a chill through you to see it now. You don’t know why he’d get mad over something he did, but you let him explain anyway.

“I didn’t post this,” he says, voice low. “I remember taking it. It was just one of those clips you forget about.”

You say nothing, just watch him.

“I promise, I never posted this. Left my phone at the front desk before a meeting that day.” He pauses, then adds with more certainty, “Didn’t have it until the receptionist said you called.”

It’s not just facts. The way his eyes stay fixed on yours, it sounds like he’s pleading. Like this one slip could undo something you don’t know he’s been trying to repair.

“You know people still think we’re—” you start.

“I know,” he cuts in, sharp but steady. “Exactly why I wouldn’t do that to you. I don’t give a fuck about what people say about me, but you—you can’t get caught up in my mess.”

“Kind of already am…” you whisper. The breeze picks up just in time to carry it away. He doesn’t hear you.

You scroll to the photo he’d just taken of you. Send it to yourself. Then, without comment, you delete it. Close off the app. Return his phone.

He watches you do it, jaw ticking once. “You don’t trust me.”

“I don’t trust socials.”

He hums quiet. “Okay.”

The pause between you feels dense, like the air itself is holding its breath. You can still feel the edge in his voice. The way his jaw clenched when he looked at the way you deleted your photo. Like a bruise under skin—settled but not gone.

He shifts a little, arms now to himself, his thumb tracing his ring—your rings, like he's been doing the entire night, like it's the only thing that's been keeping him stable at the moment.

You watch him. The slope of his shoulders. The way the wind toys with the ends of his hair. You don’t know what exactly makes you move—maybe it’s the ghost of that cold expression on his face. Maybe it’s guilt for ever doubting him. Or maybe it’s just that old, quiet ache that you still know how to soothe, even after everything.

So, you shift a little closer. Slowly. Then, without saying anything, you reach for his hand.

He doesn’t react immediately. Just blinks down at your fingers gently sliding over his, thumb tracing the faded tattoo near his knuckle. But then you feel him turn, just slightly, like gravity finally pulled him back to you.

His hand turns over under yours—palm up, open—and your fingers find the spaces they used to fill so easily. Like they never forgot how.

Neither of you speaks.

The wind dies down, and for a few seconds, it feels like you're both tucked inside something softer than forgiveness. Not quite peace, not yet—but maybe the start of it.

His thumb brushes yours once.

And quietly, in the hush of that moment, you realize, he’d let go of the anger the second you reached for him.

Maybe he just didn’t know how to show it until now.

The street is quieter than expected for mid-afternoon.

Shadows stretch long across the pavement, cast by a line of ginkgo trees just beginning to green again. A couple walks past, sharing earphones, the occasional traffic hums a soft undercurrent. Even the sunlight feels muted, like it’s been filtered through gauze.

Inside the car, everything’s still.

Jeongguk sits with one hand on the wheel, the other resting loose over his knee. He hasn’t turned on the engine since pulling in. Hasn’t touched the radio either. Just lets the silence press in around him—familiar, almost comforting now in a way it never used to be.

There’s an ache in his jaw he doesn’t remember forming.

He shifts a little, reaching for his drink in the cupholder, only to set it back down untouched. His reflection stares faintly back at him from the black screen of his phone—sleepless eyes, mouth drawn. Not angry, not exactly. Just… tired.

Maybe it's been sitting with him longer than he realized. That moment outside the fast-food chain. The faint hesitation in your voice when you mentioned the story. The way you’d scrolled to prove a point but stopped short of pressing it. Like you were offering him a chance to explain. A chance he hadn’t even known he deserved.

A few birds scatter from a nearby branch. He watches them lift into the sky without thinking.

There’s a quiet throb behind his temple—from the tension, from a few nights before. His hand rests on the steering wheel, knuckles pale from how tightly he grips it. But he doesn’t let go.

The longer he sits here, the easier it is to forget what he’s supposed to feel. Or who, exactly, he's trying to be angry at.

And somehow, with the windows rolled halfway down and the air moving just slow enough, his mind pulls backward—familiar tide, familiar trick.

Jeongguk didn’t notice her at first.

Back then, at sixteen, he’d been too focused on the girl by the water’s edge—the one with salt in her laugh, sunlight in her hair and a yellow dress that blended perfectly with the rest of the colors around her. The girl he’d spend years trying to both hold on to and let go of, never quite managing either.

It was summer at Gwangalli. He was barefoot in the sand, dialing in the light on a secondhand film camera, trying to capture the kind of scene that looked effortless but meant everything.

Your dress catching the wind. Your eyes full of something sharp and unbothered.

He almost had it.

And then someone stepped right into frame.

Another girl. Dark braid swinging, in a blouse so dark it seemed to drain the color from the beach, sketchpad tucked against her chest like a shield. She walked straight through the shot without so much as a glance.

“Ya,” Jeongguk muttered, lowering the camera. “Move.”

But she didn’t stop. Didn’t turn. Maybe she didn’t hear him. Or probably she just didn’t care.

The moment slipped through his fingers.

Still, the shutter clicked out of habit. A ruined frame.

Jeongguk didn’t think twice when he tossed it aside after it got developed along with the photos of you. He hadn’t known her name then. Hadn’t known how close she already was.

Hadn’t known how much his life would change because of her.

A car horn snapped him out of it. Sharp. Distant.

Jeongguk blinked, the heat of the present bleeding back into his skin. The sun had shifted while he wasn’t paying attention, slanting lower across the dashboard. He rubbed at the crease between his brows, then glanced at the time. Still early.

The building across the street remained quiet.

He leaned back in his seat and let his gaze drift upward. Power lines tangled against a cloudless sky. Somewhere down the block, a dog barked once and then went quiet. It was too hot for noise.

The kind of heat that made the air feel heavy with memory.

He rolled his wrist once, cracking the stiffness out of it. His window hummed a little lower, letting in the kind of stillness that didn’t quite help.

It had been years since he thought about that day on the beach.

Even longer since he thought about what followed.

But memories have their own rules—surfacing when you least expect them, when you’re too tired to push them down.

And suddenly, like breath drawn in without warning, it was there again—unfolding soft at first, before it sharpened.

It was an internship Jeongguk barely remembered signing up for – something tied to a photojournalism initiative paired with a creative agency downtown. He was twenty then, tired, overworked, distracted by deadlines and still chasing moments he could never quite frame the way he wanted to.

She was already there when he arrived.

She didn’t say much that first day. Just nodded when they were introduced, then turned back to a sketch she’d been working on—quiet, composed, her pen moving without pause. Something about her felt familiar, but not enough to place. He assumed she was shy, maybe the type who preferred headphones to small talk.

If she recognized him, she never said.

And he didn’t recognize her. Why would he?

To him, she was just another intern—a name in an inbox, not important enough for Jeongguk to remember. One of a dozen faces under fluorescent lights, blinking through meetings and overedited pitch decks.

They never got close.

A few overlapping assignments, polite exchanges. One late-night editing session that went longer than it should have—half the team had left, but she stayed behind finishing layouts. He handed her a banana milk from the vending machine after accidentally spilling his ramen over her mood board.

She’d declined with a soft laugh. “I prefer chocolate, but thanks.”

That was the only thing he remembered from that entire month.

It wasn’t until years later that their paths crossed again.

Jeongguk had just wrapped a client shoot and ducked into a weekly department meeting he rarely paid attention to. The conference room was freezing. The air smelled faintly of fresh toner and leftover coffee.

He sat near the back, scrolling half-mindedly through test shots on his laptop until the projector lit up and a photo caught his eye. The name beneath it felt familiar though he couldn’t quite place where he’d seen it before.

Jiwoo. Creative Director, Division 2.

A woman in slate gray then appeared at the front, posture straight, hair pulled back. Familiar—not in the way most colleagues became over time, but in a way that made something stir just beneath the surface. A small, odd tug at the edge of memory.

She glanced his way only once. Didn’t falter. Didn’t flinch. Just gave the room a clear, concise rundown on her division's upcoming brand campaigns, her tone calm, delivery crisp.

It wasn’t until after the meeting, when people filtered out in small clusters, that she approached.

“You’re here,” she said simply.

Jeongguk blinked, confused. “Jiwoo, right? The new C.D?”

“Jiwoo,” she corrected, a small smile tugging at her mouth, “your old colleague from the internship.”

He stared for a second. “What?”

“You spilled ramen on my final pitch.” she said, sounding a little nervous, "I prefer chocolate milk?"

That did it. It hit him in a quiet, specific way. “Holy shit.”

She laughed softly, amused at how stunned he looked. “Small world, huh?”

“Even smaller now that you’ve mentioned it,” He paused. “Wait—you remember that?”

“Hard to forget when it almost cost me the whole program. You offered that banana milk like it would bring world peace."

He laughed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Didn’t expect to get hit with that today.”

“And I haven’t even said the best part,” she added, her smile turning more comfortable now. “I kind of photobombed your view once.”

He squinted. “Excuse me?”

“Back in Gwangalli. You were taking pictures of this girl by the shore? I walked right in front of your frame.”

“No way.”

“Yep. Ruined your perfect shot. It was a whole thing.”

Jeongguk blinked, genuinely stunned. “Why didn’t you say anything back during the internship?”

She gave a small shrug. “Bit weird to walk up and say, ‘Hi, I’m your photobomber. Nice to meet you.’”

He let out a loud laugh—too loud. A passing staff peeked in, shot them a quick look, then moved on.

A breeze stirred through the cracked window. Warm. Fleeting. It caught the edge of his sleeve, brushed across his skin like a thought he didn’t quite want to have.

Something in his chest lingered—an echo of that laughter long gone. It wasn’t his anymore; he had already left it behind long ago. It wasn't his to keep in the first place.

Yet it still came quietly today. A shift so small it almost didn’t register—like a whisper from the past, pulling him back to a night he wished he could forget.

The night everything stopped.

Ha-yun.

His daughter, small as a prayer and just as fleeting. Gone before he could hold her properly. The world had turned cold and colorless after that. He left everything behind—his work, his name, the quiet ache in your eyes that he couldn’t meet anymore.

Weeks passed. He didn’t know how many. Grief blurred the edges of time.

When he finally returned to work, the office felt different. Muted. People spoke in low voices and left space between words. They avoided his gaze, careful not to touch the rawness they imagined in him.

Except for Jiwoo.

She stopped by his desk one afternoon, arms folded around a thick binder. No apology. No hesitance.

“I covered for you,” she said. “The Haneul campaign. Didn’t want you to lose it.”

He blinked at her. Still half-numb. “You didn’t have to.”

“I know,” she said simply. “But I wanted to.”

He looked at her then. Really looked. There was something steady in her eyes—not softness, not pity. Just presence. A calm that didn’t ask for anything.

“You’re good at what you do,” she added, setting the folder down with a quiet thud. “Would’ve been a shame to let it fall apart.”

He swallowed. Nodded. His voice barely made it out.

“Thank you.”

Nothing happened overnight. Just shared elevator rides as time passed. A nod in the hallway. Evenings where their screens glowed long after the office had emptied. They worked on separate floors, in different divisions, caught in their own projects and deadlines—but every now and then, their paths would cross.

Jiwoo came by his office with feedback for a joint project. Left a can of coffee on his desk without a word—the brand he always bought. A few weeks after that, she stayed behind to help adjust lighting ratios for a last-minute reshoot.

He didn’t ask her to. She didn’t wait for thanks.

That night, as they packed up, she glanced over. “Do you always bury yourself in work when you don’t want to feel things?”

He looked up, tired. “Don’t you?”

A faint smile tugged at her mouth, something sad and knowing. “We all have our escapes.”

Time moved differently then.

They weren’t close. Not really. Just two people who didn’t ask too much of each other. Who knew how to leave space without leaving entirely. And maybe that was what he needed most.

Still, small things began to slip through. The way Jeongguk’s eyes lingered too long. The way her hand brushed his when passing pens. The way she remembered how he liked his ramen. How he started calling her Jiwoo-yah without realizing it.

At home, the space stayed quiet. The nightmares too loud. Ones that haunted Jeongguk no matter what he turned to forget – how he failed as a husband, father, protector.

You were gone more often, folding yourself into business trips and late meetings that he didn’t question.

And Jeongguk—no longer sure what he was supposed to be—found something dangerously still in Jiwoo’s company.

It wasn’t love. He told himself that often.

But it felt like peace.

And sometimes, peace was enough to make a man forget everything else.

[smoothlikealikeasnake]

Strong Coffee and Sweet Cakes

Chapter Six ‘What Feels Right’

Genre - BTS FF, a/b/o dynamics, a/b/o BTS and MC, Ot7 x fem MC/reader, so fluffy, little angst, eventual smut

Warnings - Discussion of medical issues, physical health problems, exhaustion leading to physical pain, skin rashes, muscle pains, extreme pain, overworking, fatigue, a lot of angst, scruffing, a/b/o dynamic usage and mentions, less conscious minds? a lot of fluff too, please lmk if there’s anything to add xx

Summary - A new cafe near the Hybe building will change the 7 members of Bangtan’s lives forever, 7 alphas in a pack? A recipe for disaster. Until a sweet omega starts to stir up their world with a little bit more sugar and slowly their loneliness dissolves

Author Notes - It’s finally here! 17.5k words and a whole lot of it is angst but it’s PLOT RELEVANT, it was needed im sorry.

This was meant to be 49% angst and 51% fluff but it kind of ended up with majority angst, a good amount of fluff and a lot of hidden fluff so you have to pick out the small moments too 💖💜

I do really love the development in this chapter, I worried it didn’t quite fit very well and that some things moved too fast but I think it’s somewhat okay now after editing.

Why am I noting down ideas for 15 chapters in the future like whole multiple chapters plots already 😭

Your back’s been absolutely killing you today, sharp rushes of pain shooting through it every time you bend even a little, and to add to it all, it’s slowly travelling down your legs as well. Assuming it’s just a pulled muscle or that you slept on it funny, you power through and ignore it, also ignoring the way your skin begins to itch and feel hot and sensitive against your jeans and t-shirt.

Closing doesn’t go as usual; you have a whole lot of prep to do, so you end up staying a few hours later than usual, your process significantly slowed by the way your back and the rest of your body kept locking up and stopping you mid-task.

Finally, time to go home. You head straight to the convenience store because you sure as hell won’t be going back out after you get home, body spent. You barely manage to pull a smile onto your face, greeting Mrs.Han as another wave of pain shoots through your back, nearly stumbling straight into a display before you catch your footing. She assumes you tripped and scolds you for being clumsy, but you can hardly hear it, your mind distant.

Jungkook would tell himself he hasn’t purposefully been avoiding you; that’s a lie though. He doesn’t know what to do with himself, just avoiding the cafe, but on this particular night, he felt pulled to go to the store, convinced he was craving ramen, so on he went, walking in and bowing to Mrs.Han before aiming to go down the ramen aisle.

Your scent fills his nose instantly, and he tenses, thinking back to how he reacted to Jimin and frowning; internally, his alpha is just begging him to suck it up and accept it, and it’s not like he can walk straight back out, so he doesn’t; he’s going to push down what happened and be in control. A twitch of his nose makes him frown. your scent isnt as sweet as usual. Sure, its usually a little mild or ever so slightly tart from your exhaustion but this… The pastry of your scent smells burnt; your strawberry’s so tart its almost sharp, and then he spots you, sees the tremor of your hand as you reach out to grab your ramen, the slight bending of your back forward because you can’t stand straight right now.

Jungkook is frozen; he doesn’t know what’s making your scent so negative. He puts it down to just heavy exhaustion at first. His spring rain and fresh laundry scent dances through your nose; you follow it and see him standing at the beginning of the aisle. The pain seems to let up for a minute, so you try to straighten out and give him a smile; he returns it after a moment, walking over and also choosing his ramen.

The rest of your usual pick-and-go is as usual: standing outside and waiting for him. Jungkook comes out as energetic as ever, forgetting the whole Jimin incident momentarily, smiling and gesturing for you both to walk towards your apartment.

“How have you been, Y/n?” - Is the first thing Jungkook asks; he hasn’t seen you in a while, obviously, so it only feels right; you’re merely a few steps into the walk.

“I’ve been g- agh-” - The words get knocked right out of your chest, a pain so strong shooting from your neck down to your legs making you stumble, gasping for breath and trying to throw your hand back to grasp your back, but it only makes it worse. Jungkook is stunned, hands moving before his mind to stabilise you and looking over you, you are entirely shaking and your mind is hazy, somewhere else, hot to the touch and slowly losing the strength in your legs, about to fall to the ground.

Your whimper puts him in motion instantly; his arm wraps around your front, not allowing you to fall but also not forcing you upright since he saw how you were standing in the shop; his alpha is practically begging him to get you somewhere safe, into a nest, but his brain overpowers him just for a moment. It's a 10, maybe 15-minute walk to your apartment, and that's if you can even make it there, and it's a 3-minute drive to Pack's home, and his car is right behind you guys. The option he chose is clear.

You’re like a puppet, limbs numb apart from the searing pain that’s bringing tears to your eyes now, face scrunched as you try and wait for it to pass, but it’s not passing fast enough; you can hardly breathe, but you know it’s not the kind of pain to go to the hospital for; there’s no actual strain on your lungs or heart; it’s entirely physical and just feels like extremely intense muscle pain and surface pain.

Jungkook isn’t making you take a single step; he can’t listen to your heartbreaking whimpers for a second longer, and although he knows you’re in pain, he apologises under his breath and sets his arm under your thighs, one under your back, apologising over and over as he lifts you bridal style into his arms, knowing he’s putting pressure on the pain but this is the most efficient way to get you into his car.

You’re hunched over yourself when he sets you down, hands moving quickly to do your seatbelt, and you can’t hear his quiet reassurance, telling you it’s going to be okay, to just hold on.

Jin will know what to do; one of his hyungs will know what to do… right? His alpha is telling him not to take you to the hospital, that it isn’t what you need, and for once, he listens. There's a lone tear slowly following down your cheekbone, and your entire body is trembling trying to fight through the pain. Jungkook is off before you know it, quietly keeping reassuring you, but you can’t think about it; you can’t think about where you are going or how long it takes; every minute feels like 100 anyway.

Jungkook pulls into the carpark and rushes to your door, gently undoing your seatbelt, and he’s just a tiny bit relieved to see you trying to steady your breathing, praying that means it’s slowly passing. You barely respond besides leaning into his arms as he whisks you into his hold again, closing the door behind him with his body and jumping straight in the elevator, punching in the house code, and he’s actually glad for the fast lift-—it often makes him nauseous, but today, it’s worth it.

He’s only seeing a singular path, no attention to anyone around him nor the shouts of confusion from the members as he practically sprints to his room, careful not to jostle you and only moving faster when you whimper again, tensing against him, hand gripping his t-shirt so hard your knuckles have lost the blood in them.

“‘Ts okay ‘mega, it’s okay…” - Is all he keeps repeating as he sets you down on his bed like you are glass, letting his alpha take over to rush to his closet, that extreme order of pillows and blankets and all things soft being vital right now, pulling out blanket after blanket and pillows and piling them around your curled body. You look tiny and frail on his bed, and he lets out a whimper of his own, his own hands shaking as he deposits as many pillows and blankets as he can around you, a makeshift nest if anything.

You’re twitching through it now, the warmth welcomed and helping, gripping onto a pillow he puts in front of you; even if your body is feverish, the heat provided by the nest he tried to make around you seems to help. It washes away a layer of the pain until you’re at least able to move your limbs and find yourself gripping the back of your own t-shirt. Taking deep inhales of the scent flushing around you, soothing something deep inside you.

Jungkook’s a mess, his hair messed up where he’s pulled at it and his breathing heavy, standing there not knowing what to do next now that he’s built you a nest and got you to the safest place he could think of in his mind, his alphas pushing at him to come over and wrap you into his arms, to hold you through the pain and to scent you into that fuzzy headspace, convincing him it will take away the pain, but he refuses to do that; instead, he finds himself calling out.

“Hyung- hyung please” - He doesn’t know what hyung he is calling out for but he doesn’t take his eyes off of you for a second; he walks towards you and when he’s standing at the edge of the bed, you reach your hand out, eyes closed and grip onto the corner of his shirt, refusing to let go, face scrunched in pain, not that Jungkook would have made you let go anyway. He doesn’t have to call out twice; in an instant, there are rushing footsteps and multiple people bounding through his door, summoned by the strong distress flooding the hall and Jungkook’s borderline cries.

The first to come in are Seokjin and Namjoon, who saw him rushing in with you in his arms, beelining for his bedroom. They can’t even see you until they walk closer; they can only see your arm poking out because Jungkook had piled the border of his bed so much with all the nesting materials. It’s a little scruffy, of course it is- he’s never had to make a nest before, but that hardly matters.

The room smells burnt and makes their noses scrunch as they get closer; your scent burnt and Jungkook is stormy; he’s stressed; they can see it before they see you. Once they get in close enough to see you, Jungkook spins the top of his body, growling at them and then dropping it with a hurt expression, muttering out apologies; they don’t mind; they understand; he hadn’t meant to; he’s simply being protective.

Seokjin looks over you, curled up on Jungkook's bed, and tries to work out what’s wrong. You have a light sheen of sweat covering your skin, and the more your t-shirt sticks to your back, the more you whimper and try to pull it back.

Namjoon is distraught, running his hands through his hair; the first thing that goes through his mind is the possibility of you being in heat, and he curses under his breath.

Seokjin goes to the other side of Jungkook, stands next to him, and crouches down until you open your eyes and make eye contact with him, filled with tears and so clearly in pain it hurts his heart.

“Where does it hurt, sweetheart?” - He speaks as calmly as he can; your answer will pretty much tell him whether you’re going into heat or not. He’s probably the most levelheaded of the pack and has the most experience with omegas too.

You can hardly speak, letting out a half whimper as you try to respond and just keep pulling at the t-shirt on your back; it’s where it all started anyway, and you really hope he understands; he does.

“I’m just going to have a look, okay?” - He says, and you nod, burying your face into a blanket and gripping Jungkook’s shirt even tighter, tugging him until his legs are flush with the bedframe. Jungkook wants to pet your head to soothe you, but he can’t- doesn’t know if he’s allowed.

Seokjin rounds the bed until he’s on the other side, and he curses when he can already see a slither of your skin at the top of your jeans where the t-shirt is pulled away. He has to gently pry away your hand from it, and instantly your hand is flying forward to find something else to hold onto.

Seokjin has to carefully push your shoulder so that you’re more lying on your front than on your side, and when he pulls up your shirt to just below your bra clasp, Jungkook whines low and distraught. Seokjin immediately curses at the once small patches of rash that have spread down your spine and your waist; he imagines it goes down your hips too, but his hands reach up and pull at the collar of your shirt instead, finding them all the way up to your neck.

Your body is finally fully fighting back; it’s been giving you warnings for a while about how far you’re overworking yourself, but now, your omega is physically stopping you from pushing anymore. They can see your muscles spasming and tensing as a new wave of pain rushes through you; this time it’s less intense, and you don’t do more than squeeze Jungkook’s shirt and his hand, which- you don’t know when you found but somewhere along the way.

Seokjin rubs the back of his hand so softly across the small of your back, feeling how your skin is burning; he absolutely would have thought you were in heat had he not seen this and known enough about omegas.

He pulls away, hands running through his hair and cursing once again. Jungkook looks at him for guidance, confusion and concern written all over his face. Namjoon had stood by the door and stopped the others from coming in, just for a minute, until they knew what was wrong.

“Namjoon, can you go get her a shirt, something soft and oversized- and I mean, soft- infact take Jimin with you” - Is the first thing Jin calls out, the two in question running instantly, not caring whose shirt it is, just finding something that suits the criteria; they settle for one of Yoongi’s since his room is closest; the fabric is Jimin approved, and by the time they come back, Jin has already sent Hoseok off to get something for him too.

“Theres a white and pink tub of cream in my bathroom cabinet; you’ll know its the one when you see it. bring me that.” - Jin told him and Hoseok went and found it.

“Im sorry…” - You try to get out, breathy and low, and Jungkook and Jin’s heads snap to you. Not that Jungkook took his eyes away for a second, Jungkook whines at your apology- it’s far from necessary, and Jin brushes it off, telling you you shouldn’t be sorry- even though he will be having a chat with you about the cause of this sometime later.

When Namjoon, Jimin and Hoseok are back and in the room, their eyes widen at the sight of you, the back of your shirt still pulled up a little bit and the younger two freeze, Hoseok grabbing the shirt from them and walking straight over to hand the items to Seokjin hastily.

Seokjin puts a hand on your face, turning you to face him and grabbing your attention, feeling the heat under them too and frowning at the tears hitting his fingers.

“Do you think you can change into this shirt, sweetheart? This is too tight” - He gestures to the one you're wearing, and you nod a little, trying to move up but shaking too much. Jungkook is instantly helping you to sit up, waiting until you're steady, and you still haven't let go of his shirt. Seokjin ushers everyone out, including himself but when he tries to get Jungkook out, you grip onto his shirt a little tighter and look down, speaking through your haze, clearly led by your omega

“Stay, please just… turn” - And Jungkook obliges in an instant, nodding whilst Seokjin huffs and gives him a pointed look. You let go only for a second, and when the door closes, you start to try and pull off your shirt, gasping and whining muffled, but it has Jungkook clutching his own shirt to not turn around and just help.

The fabric of the shirt is so soft, it’s oversized and doesn’t cling to you anywhere, long enough that it would reach your thighs, but you keep your jeans on obviously. It feels a little better already, but maybe that’s because it’s drenched in Yoongi’s scent, the warmth of the whisky and leather so appealing, and despite all your pain, your omega is purring.

“Done…” - Is all you say before Jungkook is spinning around again and looking over you as if you would have gotten more injuries, then he calls for Seokjin again, and he’s rushing in, picking up the cream and looking at where you sit curled in on yourself, scent still burnt, but there’s a tinge of sweetness added to it, a little bit of comfort.

“This cream will help soothe your rash a little; is it okay if I put some on your back?” - Jin stays a good distance until you nod and he lifts your shirt, Jungkook holding it at your shoulders for you, trying not to whimper himself at the full extent of the rashes, and although he knows it can’t be the sole part of your pain, the way you were twitching and tensing so randomly hints it’s deeper than just your skin; this will at least help a little, he hopes.

The first touch of the cold cream on your back from Jin’s fingers makes you twitch and then sigh; pushing back into his hand, it works instantly to cool down the area but at another rush of pain in your muscles You tense again, curling impossibly closer to yourself until your head is touching the bed, legs still crossed in your lap but completely curled over.

Seokjin frowns at the other pain you're experiencing, also seeing how the rash follows deeper than the band of your jeans and that it’s under the back of your bra too.

“Y/n, can I unclasp this?” - He asks, gently touching the clasp, and you nod, trying to pass through another wave of pain. As soon as he’s popped open the back of your bra, you let out a little puff of relief, no longer any pressure around your back at all, and Jin continues to rub the cream the whole way up to the nape of your neck, where he hesitates, a thought coming to mind.

Scruffing could help numb the rest of the pain; he couldn’t possibly do it without your permission, but if you did want that, it’s a solution, even if only temporary.

“Does that feel a little better?” - You can only nod into the bed. Jungkook replaces the shirt down your back, and you roll onto your side so you can curl up even more. You reach out again, and Jungkook is quick to get closer, hovering over the border of the nest so you can reach his shirt and hold it again, somewhat becoming a staple of comfort in the short time you have been in this state. Jungkook is gnawing at his lip, so worried it’s killing him.

“Still hurt?” - Jin asks with a frown when you tense again, and you breathlessly try to respond, stuttering over your words.

“U-under my skin” - He knows what you’re trying to say; when he’s about to suggest something, Jungkook reaches out and puts a hand flat on your back, and to their surprise, you go boneless, sighing out in relief. The touch has your omega chanting ‘alpha, alpha, alpha’ in your mind, and you don’t even understand it yourself, but the scents and touch and nesting seem to ease the pain a little.

“You need to rest Y/n, your bodys protesting from the inside out.” - Jin frowns and you sigh out, nodding, never thinking it would get to this point and then you realise where you are… Opening your eyes and looking around, Jungkook’s hand is gently rubbing your back, and it’s blissful and painless.

“I should get home- i’m sorry for this…” - You get out, frowning when your omega protests your words and practically screams at you; a surge of pain, lighter than the others, flows again. You try to hide it, try not to tense, but they can see it.

“I don’t think thats a good idea sweetheart…” - Jin regretfully tells you but he won’t go against your wishes; he won’t hold you here, but god, he wants to. It’s late at night; this sort of pain has been long in the making, and he’s certain you shouldn’t be alone.

“I have to get back; i have work in the morning…” - Jungkook snarls and Jin scoffs; you tense below them, and they soften their approach, but you can’t go to work tomorrow; it’s out of the question, not like this.

“What you need is to take a break; work can wait” - You want to protest, but your omega immediately purrs at his words, agreeing with the suggestion, and you think back to not only your friends telling you to listen but also to Dr.Kim’s worry and disapproval. One day should be okay…

“I don't think it will help for you to be alone right now, just try to rest here, atleast for now? We can stay with you, or we will be right outside if you need anything” - Jin tells you. You purse your lips, not wanting to hold them here, but… are you on Jungkook’s bed? You look around and finally notice his efforts to build a nest around you, your purrs becoming audible, and then you slap a hand over your mouth in horror of yourself, only to be hit with another surge of pain at your refusal.

Jungkook looks at Jin for help, pleading silently to do something, his alpha knowing that something can be done even if he refuses to do it himself. Jin sighs, holding his breath before finally suggesting what his alpha has been nagging him to.

“Have you ever been scruffed?” - He asks, and you furrow your brows; of course you know what it is, but you aren’t aware of why he’s asking. Jungkook goes wide-eyed, knowing where Jin is going with this and looking at him in shock.

“Not since i was a child,” - You tell him, still confused on why thats relevant; you watch him hold his breath

“If its your omega causing the pain, which… i think it is… i could scruff you to settle it all” - He's referencing both the pain and your omega, and you think over it; you haven't been scruffed since you were a very young pup. No idea what it would do to your mind now, but you know he's right; it’s your omega causing the pain; that’s why you won’t see a doctor about it.

“With your teeth?” - You ask hesitantly. Seokjin goes bright red and laughs a little whilst Jungkook looks away, a small smile on his face.

“No-no- with my hands” - You breathe out in a little relief and think over it, considering declining, but your omega clearly doesn’t like that because once again, you tense up with another small surge of pain in warning, your omega telling you to let him scruff you, and so you take a deep breath and nod. It's hard to think about just why your omega is happy letting them see you so vulnerable when you're in constant pain. He looks a little surprised, having thought you’d decline after your silence.

“Is that okay?” - You ask Seokjin, not wanting him to do so if he is at all against it because it really is an intimate thing; only packs, families and mates scruff eachother…

“Yeah, if you want me to” - He gives you an encouraging smile, and you nod once again, telling him you want him too, and he lets out a huff, even more so when Jungkook reaches over, his hand leaving your back and brushing your hair off the back of your neck, fingertips grazing your neck and making you shiver. Anticipation has you gnawing at your lip, walking straight into the unknown, praying, trusting that this will help.

Seokjin puts one knee on the bed, just outside the ‘border’ of the nest, and asks you one more time if this is okay; you nod and bare your neck even more. He has to look away for a moment as his alpha tries to make him growl in approval. His fingers hover over your nape, then come down, pinching the sensitive skin there; you tense and gasp, and then he pulls, and you are boneless and limp for a moment, and he pulls off as soon as he’s sure.

Jungkook watches it happen with complete interest; his alpha is finally sated as you slowly blink, and a small smile settles over your face. You were only boneless for a moment before you sit up, a little shaky and a little wobbly, and two sets of hands shoot out to stabilise you, but you only giggle a little, eyes glossed over, grabbing one of each of their hands and tugging. You're a little giggly, dopey if there was a way to describe it, a little less present just somewhere in your mind that feels intoxicating, incredible.

Theres not a single ounce of pain in your body, a first in a long time but you also feel like a passenger in your own mind- its not bad its, really, really nice… When you’re scruffed, your omega comes to the front of your mind, guiding your every action, and your conscious brain gets to sit back and have everything that feels good and right come to you. It’s unfamiliar and you’ll surely regret atleast a bit of your shamefree, forward behaviour later but this is so much better than being in pain.

You're hazy and a bit incoherent, but you're persistent, tugging the two alphas towards you with a bit more force, and Seokjin has to stabilise himself with a knee on the bed, looking at you in shock and a bit of amusement, his alpha grumbling happily at you trying to get them closer.

“C’mere,” - You say, slurred because when your omega surfaces, theres very little chance of full, coherent sentences. Your omega is convinced these two alphas are supposed to be closer, supposed to also be within the comfortable edges of the bed, not in any sort of suggestive way- in a way you deem they should also be comfortable, that you trust them, to be close and feel they should relax, their scents still negative. You tug them just once more after you say it, and they oblige quickly, sitting at the edges of the ‘nest’ ah yes- the nest…

Not a second later your throwing yourself back and they flinch, going to stabilise you but you don’t need it; you’re fluffing the pillows and blankets around the headboard and then continuing all the way around, kind of just pushing them this way and that way to get where you need to be. You’re a bit clumsy, but there’s no denying that you’re precise, and when it’s all finished, you purr, loud and unfiltered.

The two alphas kind of just watch you, don’t care for how you are pushing them around, and are more just enthralled with your behaviour, smiles on their faces because you’re no longer in pain, and this… side of you settles something deep within them; if you were to ask them to jump right now, they’d just ask how high.

When you’re finished, you just lay back, relax and this time, you don’t curl up; in fact, you half lay on your side, but for the most part, you lay belly up and Jungkook can’t draw his eyes away, his hand twitching to protectively lay his hand there until Jin swats him, scolding him for his thought just by reading his eyes. You finally smell happy, sweeter than usual, a lot sweeter than usual, and they are both taking heaps of breaths in of your scent, and as you watch them do so, your hands clumsily find your neck; they lean in curious, and then you pull off the scent blocker patches and the ones on your wrist too, omega clearly not satisfied with the restriction. Jungkook goes stiff, and then he goes boneless, dropping down to lie at the bottom of the nest, lazily blinking and inhaling so deeply, holding onto his own clothes so that he doesn’t seek out the source of the scent yet again; it’s so hard though, but he keeps that little bit of lucidity, grips onto it. He feels drowsy, happy and drowsy, inhaling deeper and deeper and sinking further into that bliss.

Jin jolts, pupils dilating to the max just like Jungkook and you, and while he doesn’t go down like Jungkook, he does take a deep inhale and go stiff, chest erupting in grumbles. You look at them both, Jin sitting up, Jungkook lying down and giggling, happy with the effects of your scent, their own tensions leaving their shoulders, and then you feel sleepy, so so sleepy, stretching your body out, your feet nudging Jungkook's as he looks at you lazily and happily, a dopey, puppylike smile on his face and boba eyes. You’re happy and fluttering your scent around them to lull them into that same state; it draws Jungkook somewhere more instinctual, hence his actions.

Jin tries to catch his breath and then looks over at you two and spots an issue that needs to be resolved before you go to sleep. You and Jungkook are both wearing jeans, and as he gets up to confront that issue, you spark back awake, a frown settling on your face, and you whine so quietly he nearly drops down to lay in the nest as well, choking on his own breath, and Jungkook perks wide and alert as well.

“You both need to change before you sleep- jeans” - Seokjin points at both of your legs and you comply, easily sitting up and Jin gets up and out of the nest, much to your disapproval, rushing to Jungkook’s closet and picking out two soft pairs of pyjama bottoms. He guides you on wobbly legs into Jungkook’s bathroom to change and urges Jungkook to change quickly before you come back. He does, hardly getting up, throwing his jeans on the floor and throwing on the pyjama bottoms, sort of just rolling about after, flopped in the nest and breathing in your scent deep whilst Seokjin shakes his head at his clouded alphaspace behaviour.

In the bathroom you stumble about, clumsily shifting off your jeans and breathing in relief when they are off, then you feel something brush against your breast and realise- oh-—your bra is unclasped. To your defence, you do try to reclasp, but after a few huffing attempts, you clumsily unthread it from the shirt completely foregoing it; the shirts thick anyway and you'll bundle under blankets too.

You do bring the trousers up to your nose in your own company- not that your omega would have minded having company whilst you shamelessly inhaled Jungkook's scent; his room is so full of him it's overwhelming in the best possible way. Holding them out, the legs are far too long for you and against your better - conscious - judgement, you - your omega - decides to just forego these well. You’ll be under a blanket anyway and the shirt is more like a dress ending near your knees, you worry you would simply trip in the trousers.

Thats how you stumble out, your jeans: bra hidden within them because at least your omega respected your sanity enough to do that, and the pajama pants in your hands, placing them gently by the bed and then darting into the nest before Seokjin can process anything-

Jungkook isn’t much help either as he happily grumbles and rubs his wrists and head all over the blankets around him, drowning in your scent mixed with his while you get comfortable and then just flop, throwing a blanket over Jungkook before yourself, kind of kicking it into place with a giggle, hitting his shin and ankle a bit clumsily, but he doesn’t mind one bit and then throwing one over yourself too, and within seconds you’re out, your body in complete relaxation.

It was a mere 10 minutes from you being scruffed to you being completely out, and Seokjin kind of just had to sit back in shock, turning towards Jungkook to say, Let's go now, but to his dismay, he was also fast asleep. In fact, when Seokjin approaches, his lips lift in a soundless snarl and his hand reaches out, holding your ankle, palm over the scent gland there protectively even in his sleep. You purr so loud at the contact that it shocks Jin out of his blatant disbelief and staring

The door slowly opens behind him, 5 heads comedically peaking through and Jin quickly urges them not to make any noise, the only noises in the room being your purrs and Jungkook’s grumbling; the scent nearly knocks the five of them out, kind of all piled on top of each other to get a peak before they stumble in.

Initially, they are filled with pure concern, scared they will come in and you’ll still be curled up in pain but thats… not what they find…

You have fluffed up all the edges of the bed and all its nesting materials to make a sweet nest, pulled a blanket over yourself, and are sleeping with only Yoongi’s shirt - not that they know that exact detail - and a happy smile on your lips, and Jungkook is slowly curling closer and closer around your body. You began in kind of an upside-down T position, Jungkook sideways along the bottom of the bed, but now he has moved and you are in more of a J position, Jungkook bent in half and curled around your ankles, not that you mind; the more contact you have, the louder your purrs get.

The 5 new additions stand in pure shock, mouths agape at the turn in events and turn to Seokjin questioningly: What kind of magic did he work…

“I scruffed her, and she took off her scent blockers, and then Jungkook… ” - He references Jungkook holding onto your ankles protectively, rubbing his neck against them, and scenting you in your sleep whilst you smile and slightly wiggle, his hairs ticklish but never pulling away.

The boys look at Jin incredulously; Jimin and Yoongi go to take a step even closer, and Jin shoots his arms out, stopping them.

“She might pull you in and then wake up with alphas she didnt consciously invite in with her-” - They stop dead in their tracks because, as much as the idea of you inviting them into your nest is absolutely incredible, not when you're asleep.

They take a few more moments to look before Taehyung yawns, suddenly feeling tired, alongside the others, slowly realising your pheromones are easing them into a sleepier, more relaxed state, so they quietly vacate the room to talk.

All spread out on the couches in the living room, they try to wake themselves up a little, turning to Jin for a full explanation.

“To put it simply, i think her omega is fighting the workload she puts on herself.” They all frown, borderline growling and snarling at the thought of you being in that kind of state because of your body being overworked, a concept they are highly familiar with, and highly familiar with the consequences but they can’t even imagine the consequences for an omega… Well they kind of can now, seeing it firsthand.

“I didn’t even get the story of what happened; Jungkook wasn’t exactly… present but she was in a lot of pain, skin irritated all over her back and, im guessing, extreme internal pains but the more she listened to her instincts, or the more her omega came to surface, should i say, the less pain she was in so i asked her if she wanted me to scruff her… thats what happened after.” - Jin references back to Jungkook’s room

“What about tomorrow?” - Yoongi asks knowing you wouldn't happily give up your schedule, wouldn't listen to their advice to rest a little usually. Aside from that he's not able to push out the image of you in his shirt, a little sense of pride and satisfaction settling in, alpha convinced it's helping you to have his scent and clothes.

“I told her she can’t go in tomorrow; she’s not happy about it but…”

“But has she told anyone?” - Namjoon knows you arent the only one who works there but you run the place and do the baking so…

“Maybe we should wake her up now to tell someone and then let her go back to sleep” - Jimin suggests, the rest of them agreeing.

They know you'll probably be distressed and you can't just not say anything to anyone and not show up to work, they've met your friends, your co-workers, and have seen your friendship, know you're close.

Taehyung and Jimin agree to be the ones to do it, going into Jungkook's room and slowly approaching, but Taehyung suggests they wake up Jungkook to wake you up rather than you having two alphas who weren't originally there waking you up.

“Jungkook…” - Taehyung shakes Jungkook, watching his face contort and then slowly open his eyes

“Kookie can you wake her up…” - Jimin asks, nodding towards you, Jungkook just closes his eyes, wraps his arms tighter around your ankles

“No.” - Firm and certain, Jungkook blatantly refuses, or rather, his alpha refuses

“But we need to-” - Taehyung tries to reason, getting a little hazy at being so close to your full scent

“Dont care” - Is all Jungkook says back, practically shooing them away. Possessive and bossy alphas, am I right? Much to their dismay, you open your eyes and stare at them in confusion, sitting up a little.

“What do you need to do?” - You ask, sleepy and still half-asleep, still half omega-driven.

“We thought you’d need to let people know about tomorrow…” - Jimin tries gently, not wanting you to get upset or fully wake up, but with your omega still leading your actions, you blindly reach for your phone, feeling around next to the bed and coming out of the blanket to do so, Jungkook trying to hold onto you still and the mids of your thighs now on display momentarily, Tae and Jimin’s breaths catching in their throats, looking away quickly.

You send a cryptic message to the girls, simple and blunt, that you’re sick and can’t be in tomorrow; there’s bakes already finished for tomorrow, and since you were planned to be in the back tomorrow anyway, it doesn’t really matter. You'd definitely think of it so simply and easily if you weren't - luckily - still lead by your omega because you'd fret and worry and panic yourself over and over about every last detail if you werent. You send it and then drop your phone again, shuffling back down and pulling the blanket high over you, nuzzling into the softness and opening your eyes again.

A little smile settles on your face, and you reach your hands out towards them, urging them closer and then tugging them in, just as you did with Jungkook and Seokjin. The second their knees hit the border of the nest, you’re asleep again, shuffling your ankles back into Jungkook’s hold.

“What do we do…” - Taehyung whispers to Jimin, stuck between getting in and leaving, remembering Jin’s words earlier.

They both desperately want to accept your invite but… they don’t want to overwhelm you when your back in your conscious mind. Jungkook isn’t leaving anytime soon but whilst they still hold onto their sanity, they slowly back away, satisfied with you having texted your friends and retreating back to the living room

Rather than confirming that they sorted it, Jimin blurts the first thing on his mind, cheeks hotter than the sun.

“She hasnt got trousers on hyung!?-” - They all turn to Jin at Jimin’s outburst, and he brushes him off, saying, You clearly didn’t want them on, and you’re bundled in blankets and Yoongi’s t-shirt; they are next to the bed if you’d like them on, but he can’t force them on you. He’s red-cheeked by the end of his rant, and they all kind of look at him and laugh a little.

“This is not how i expected the first time her being in our house would be like.” - Hoseok groans out, not happy that you came here upset and in pain.

“Well... at least Jungkook’s not exactly avoiding her anymore is he…” - Taehyung adds, trying to find a positive in the negative.

“God, she really needs to put less work on herself; I’m certain she’s been scolded for it multiple times” - Yoongi stresses, rubbing his hand over his face in worry.

“We can speak to her about it tomorrow if she’s feeling better.” - Namjoon reasons, looking at the time, 10pm.

Throughout the night, each one of them individually goes to just peek in and check on you both, but you’re out like a light, deep sleeping and hardly moving, neither of you, besides Jungkook silently snarling every time someone comes in the room.

The following morning, they continue, just checking in on you both every now and then, but the hours roll by—7am, then 9am, then 11am and neither of you even stir.

Some of the pack had to leave for their tasks; some stayed to keep an eye on you both and be there when you wake up. It’s surreal that you’re in their pack home, fast asleep, but it feels so right; even if you weren’t originally there for any positive reason, you are sleeping soundly now, and that eases something in all of their brains.

You begin to rise at 12:30ish, your shuffling urging Jungkook to slowly wake up too; you’re both a little hazy when you wake, slowly sitting up and sitting in silence, drowsy and rubbing over your faces and hair, not really processing the position you’re both in right now.

You feel… so much better. Finally, as if you’ve rested - which you have, 14 pushing 15 hours of straight sleep. And you’re not in your room- no it’s far too big to be your room, but you are in a nest that smells an awful lot like you and fresh laundry and spring rain. And of course the fact that Jungkook is rising from sleep too at the end of the bed… wait- Jungkook is also waking up-

You’re in his room- in a nest you kind of both made on his bed after he carried you up and took care of you when you were in pain and then Jin scruffed you and you dragged him into the nest and you both fell asleep- Oh my god…

You go from blankly staring and rubbing your eyes to staring at Jungkook wide-eyed; he’s still in a little bit of a haze from nuzzling at the scent gland near your ankles the entire night and morning, just like you were with nuzzling into his sheets and scented blankets and Yoongi’s shirt- YOONGI’S SHIRT-

Suddenly, you aren’t the only one staring wide eyed, Jungkook’s staring right back at you with the same expression and he gets to the words before you, looking down at the nest and how he’s in it and then-

“I am… so sorry!--” - He grumbles out, voice raspy with sleep and borderline about to jump out off of his own bed in fear that he’s upset you but he hasn’t- he really hasn’t hes done more than you would of ever asked for in a million years-

“Why are you sorry?! I'm sorry!” - You squeeze your eyes shut momentarily, looking around and gesturing to yourself, the nest and his room.

You kind of have a battle of apologies, neither of you moving a single bit though, just sitting up staring at each other, so well rested it’s blissful, half-shouting at each other back and forth over and over with messy bed hair, there are slowly smiles rising on both of your faces even if you are pretty much arguing away.

Through both of your shouting you didn’t hear footsteps pounding down the hallway, but you do hear the slamming of Jungkook’s door opening, startling you both and you jumped a little in his direction; he jumped in yours and within a moment grabs you in his arms and drags you towards him protectively, eliciting a small yelp from you, but you don’t protest; his arms are strong… Both of you stare at the culprit in the door.

Yoongi.

He goes from frantic and alert to relaxing, leaning against the doorframe with a smirk when he realises you aren’t trying to kill each other; in fact, you’re looking pretty cosy wrapped in Jungkook’s arms. You relax when you see who it is, and then tense again, looking down at yourself and seeing Yoongi’s shirt- on your body- and pretty much only that-

Much to Jungkook’s alpha’s approval, you don’t immediately try to scramble out of his arms; in fact, you kind of lean back into his warmth. It makes sense; the house runs colder since they all run hotter unlike you.

“Thought you guys were arguing” - Yoongi says with a sly smirk, looking you up and down as if assessing your situation.

Both you and Jungkook scramble to reply, denying? Agreeing? You don’t really know.

You grow a deep shade of red over your cheeks, so does Jungkook and you slowly- reluctantly- detangle yourself, sitting side by side rather than borderline on his lap. Nope, don’t even think about that.

“Sleep well?” - Yoongi asks, not really teasing now, genuinely concerned, but you don’t look to be in any pain. It only fuels the blush on your cheeks as you once again intake your current situation, nodding a little and refusing to meet his eyes.

“And you?” - Yoongi asks Jungkook, now hes definitely teasing, Jungkook half-glares half-blushes and also nods.

“Jin had to go today, he had a meeting scheduled for 1 so he literally just left but… are you feeling any better Y/n?” - Hold on. Left just now for a meeting at 1?

“He just left? What time is it?” - You ask, looking around for a clock but why would Jungkook even have a clock- in his room… in his BEDROOM.

“12:45” - The way both you and Jungkook’s eyes bulge out of your heads is comedic, looking at eachother in shock… You have quite literally never slept anywhere near so long since well before you opened the cafe- a long long time before and Jungkook doesn’t think he’s slept this long in- well… ever. You forget to answer for a moment and then remember Yoongi’s question and turn back to him, rubbing your arm nervously.

“I feel a lot better, i don’t know what happened im sorry” - Suddenly feeling shame over everything that went on, Yoongi rushes over and Jungkook protests your words besides him, once again telling you to stop being sorry

“Y/n, you shouldn’t be sorry, we’re glad Jungkook was able to bring you here rather than that happen and probably still be happening if you were alone, we’re happy your here” - The pain in his voice shows how much he cares and you slump, accepting the reality of yeah, you don’t know what you would of done if that pain had hit you when it did and Jungkook wasn’t there. You didn’t take his last sentence into account at first.

“You two need to eat in a minute, come out when your ready” - Is the last thing Yoongi says before leaving you and Jungkook alone again, shifting in your spot and then turning to him.

“Thank you for taking care of me”

“Thank you for letting me in your nest”

“Thank you for letting me make a nest”

“Well, thank you for-” - He cuts himself off when theres a bright smile on your face, one taking over his own too and your impending battle of thank you’s fizzles into giggles, your hands subconsciously kneading into the blankets around you, comfortable.

“Can i- see your back?” - Jungkook hesitates but he can’t shake off the worry, can’t shake off his alpha hounding at him to make sure you’re really okay. You nod and then freeze, grabbing one of the blankets that had been wrapped around one of you to sleep - Jungkooks.

You wrap it quickly around your waist, covering your entire legs and lowest point of your back because of course you’d decided not to wear the pyjama pants- you curse your omega for it of course, ignored. Jungkook blushes when he realises what you were doing and then you untuck the shirt so that he can lift it, quickly getting to what he said and freezing, holding the shirt up because-

“They’re gone…” - You frown in confusion, not pulling away when Jungkook gently swipes his finger over your spine to check for heat or irritation like there was last night but theres none, erased as if they never existed. You’re certain Jin’s cream can’t have been magic but…

“Not even one patch?” - You try to feel the back of your neck where you tend to get them most, it’s not painful but you do jump because its sensitive, a whole lot more sensitive than usual and Jungkook worries instantly.

“Does it hurt?-” - He frets, hand hovering your nape just in case but you twitch just from the heat radiating off of his hand alone

“Nope!- Uh, not painful!” - You get out, sounding entirely unconvincing and Jungkook glares at the spot from behind you and then remembers you got scruffed; it's probably- oh.

“Theres no patches anywhere.” - You’ll confirm his words when you’re in the bathroom later but for now you want to test something, straightening your back and lifting your arms over your head, stretching and your bones pop a little but- no pain, not even a single bit… Thats- impossible surely.

“Hurts?” - Jungkook asks, hesitant but you turn to him with a bright smile and stars in your eyes, shaking your head happily and he feels accomplished- his alpha trying to convince him it was his own doing

All of his hesitance- well, a good chunk of it atleast- seems to have disintegrated, an unfamiliar barrier removed between him and his counterpart and it feels, freeing? Right?

Suddenly, you feel a spurt of energy, this newfound lack of pain kind of pushing you to get up and jump about and maybe run down the hallway, your omega likes that idea, pushing you to get up and run and see if Jungkook chases you- wait- ignore that thought.

You stand first, stretching your legs and not planning to leave the room without putting some pants on first but then you look at the nest you- and jungkook- built on his bed and blush, heavily, rushing back towards the bed and about to begin to deconstruct it

“Ah- i’ll clean this up-” - Your actions are cut off by Jungkooks plea

“Wait! Don’t, please-” - He can feel his cheeks absolutely burning with embarrassment at his pushy plea for you to leave the nest but you freeze, slowly take a step back and nod after simply neatening up the blankets a little, fluffing it up a bit- Jungkook’s alpha sees it as you preparing if yet again for you or maybe even for him too and he blushes even heavier at that, clearing his throat

“Is that- is it okay?” - He asks and he really is unaware of the way your hearts pounding against your chest, holding back heavy purrs from his acceptance of your nest- atleast thats the way your omega sees it.

“Mhm-” - You barely squeak out before turning on your feet, grabbing the pile of clothes you had put on the floor the night before and gesturing that your going to quickly run in the bathroom, he nods, waiting for you outside.

On the top of the pile is your phone, a whole bunch of messages from the girls assuring you it’s okay and that you need to call them if you need anything and to get better soon. You send a quick reply, assuring them you’re okay and that you’ll speak to them soon about it.

After that- time to put on some trousers- you opt for the pyjama ones that your omega couldn’t justify rolling up so many times last night but you can do it now, rolling them just twice and thinking it’s fine because you don’t want to take too long even if they are still long enough to hook under your feet and trip you- you also put on your bra quickly, just your jeans left to set down somewhere.

Jungkook’s put on a hoodie over his t-shirt or maybe instead of his t-shirt you can’t really tell but he kept the pyjama pants on still, now realising they are kind of matching. Jungkook has a habit of collecting multiple of the same clothes or in very similar styles.

He looks over your form with a smile and then his alpha spots a hazard- or thats what he’d call it amongst other words and before his brain can catch up with his body, he’s kneeling infront of you and rolling the hem of the trousers a few more times so that they sit comfortably at your ankles- which he had scented throughout the night he was just reminded of-

You’re blushing when he stands, a little purry, hidden behind a clearing of your throat and neither of you meet the others eyes.

“Are you warm enough?” - He worries, your back was quite cold in his opinion when he had touched it earlier but you just nod, not wanting to push anyone to care for you more than they already have.

You both make your way out, you following Jungkook’s lead, taking in the decor of the apartment and particularly eyeing the multitude of pillows and blankets littered across the living room area and to your delight- not that your picking but still- their living room and kitchen is open plan- just like yours. And something smells delicious-

Yoongi’s in the kitchen, his back to you two, cooking something that also smells pretty delicious. You don’t quite know where to place yourself- the kitchen is usually your home but this isnt your home so you stand kind of awkwardly when someone walks up behind you and gently places a hand on your back, pushing you towards a chair. You jump, spinning to find a grinning Jimin, and he once again nudges you towards a chair on the kitchen island, find of getting back at you for all the pushing you were doing to him at your apartment. You follow, not quite knowing what else you would do with yourself and Jungkook asks what you’d like to drink, listing out a whole bunch of things, so much so that you don’t catch it all, it’s almost robotic actually.

Your reply is cut off by a cold glass of a dark reddish-pink juice being placed infront of you, is that-

“Pomegranate juice” - Namjoon says from behind you. You light up, body going rigid, and then your legs kicking in delight, a bright smile on your cheeks. He remembered- of course he did; it's Namjoon. You don’t want to assume he sought out the juice for you, but you do know it’s a niche fruit juice to pick, so maybe you get your hopes up a little bit.

You’re so happy that you spin in your seat and practically launch yourself at Namjoon- maybe your still in a bit of a haze after all of their scents have been around you and sleeping in Jungkooks room but… You don’t jump out of the seat to do it but nearly, sitting on the edge of the seat and wrapping your arms around the alpha’s neck, his surprise quickly transforms into bliss, wrapping his own arms around your waist, careful not to put much pressure in case it still hurts.

Namjoon’s very far from the touchiest member of the group, he hardly ever initiates it, but he thinks that will change with you in their lives now- as far as you already are in their lives he means... When you pull back, you feel a little embarrassed at how you’d thrown yourself onto him but the blush on his face and those dimples is absolutely worth it, muttering a thank you to him, and he brushes it off, sitting next to you with a coffee while Jungkook settles down with one too, his iced.

“Don’t think i’ve ever seen Yoongi run so fast you know, what were you two shouting about?” - Jimin teases, sitting at the end of the table whilst you and Jungkook sit opposite in silence, sipping at your drinks and avoiding. Yoongi briefly grumbles about Jimin’s dig at him but its kind of swallowed by the thick silence sat between you three as Jimin waits for a reply he is simply not going to get. What happened in Jungkook’s bedroom stays in Jungkooks bedroom- wait- uh…

“Y/n do you like Japchae?” - Yoongi asks, a saviour in the heavy silence. You tell him you do, and they all fall into brief conversation. You kind of feel out of place, as if your intruding; of course you do-

That imposing feeling is the reason for you kind of awkwardly just looking down at your own feet and wiggling them as if they are the most interesting thing in the world, swirling your pomegranate juice like its whiskey- just as delicate as whiskey to you anyway. Why did you choose to wear mismatched Pokémon socks of all things- charmander and squirtle staring up at you, you can hear charmanders scream and practically see the scene of their battle in your head… why do you want to recreate it with your feet- Hm, maybe you should, just-

“What are you smiling about?” - Namjoon asks following your gaze and then breaking out in a smile of his own, similar to the one you hadn’t noticed on your own face. He’s just about to comment- you can see it until you glare right back, your expression saying dont you dare, even if your socks are open for anyone to see… He hides his smile behind his hand and nods, keeping his amusement to himself.

You wonder how the girls are doing at the cafe on their own, maybe you should check and see if they need your help… yeah… nope apparently not because the moment you try to sneakily take your phone out like a kid in the back of class, Yoongi’s that one teacher with eyes in the back of his head.

“Put it down.” - You kind of gape at him- for starters you are not a dog and also how did he even know?! Then you see the reflection in the stained glass above the oven, betrayal, truly.

Sinking into yourself is all you can really do when the other three turn to you and catch on to what you were going to do; your phone slowly going back into your pocket, you’ll just check it when you leave- probably soon, has to be soon; you can’t intrude anymore.

Jungkook is glaring at your phone like it just ate his last twinkie, and you can hardly understand why- well maybe you can, but you’d rather not admit it, you know, your pride and all.

“Do you cook a lot, Y/n?” - Yoongi asks with his eyes still on the japchae he’s tossing. Two of the people at the counter already know the answer to this one, so much so that you can’t even get a word in before they answer for you.

“She doesn’t like the cleanup,” - Jimin calls out, without a single change in his tone, like it’s been deeply embedded in his brain for years

“So is that a no?” - Yoongi looks at you questionably through the reflection of the glass and you nod firmly, he doesn’t judge, a little surprise on his face though. Somehow, a few moments later Namjoon finds it in his mind to either make this into a competition of who knows the most about you or just finds it fun to blurt out random facts.

“In an ideal world, she wants a balcony.” - Says it over the edge of his book like it’s nothing and then Jungkook perks up, never one to lose a competition. It’s not relevant at all, Namjoon nor Jungkooks comments but they still say it, as if reading out from the texts in their mind.

“She only ever gets the exact same ramen and gimbap everytime she goes to the store even if she spends 10 minutes looking over all the options” - He clearly feels satisfied when no one retorts back at his words but you on the other hand- shocked. Are they just good listeners and really observant or do you just talk too much… It definitely doesn’t make you feel a bit giddy that they remember things like that though- absolutely not…

“You know, we have a balcony but we don’t really use it” - Yoongi cuts off their battle of who knows you best just to push on that one fact about the balcony. He can see you perk up, looking around as if a celebrity has just waltzed in- even if you are in a room with 4 of them, this new celebrity being a beloved balcony. Namjoon just hums in agreement, Jimin points to a door on the other side of the livingroom.

“Aish you should use it more- so lucky” - You gush, shaking your head in disapproval, taking another sip of your juice

“You should use it for us, i don’t think we ever go out there” - Jimin continues, you laugh it off but they just continue.

“Ah yeah, you’d make it all pretty out there too; we’d probably use it more then.” - Namjoon adds on, He’s speaking the truth; if it was nicely decorated, he’d definitely read out there; the view is incredible, but it feels just dark and empty out there.

“We should make a deal: Y/n becomes our designer for the balcony, and in return she has full access to it 24/7” - Jimin nods firmly, agreeing with his own proposition, and Jungkook has been ooing and ahing to all of their back-and-forths about said balcony, taking this whole deal seriously unlike you, and standing up suddenly, expecting you to follow. He looks a bit childish, kind of waddling rather than walking, and his hair spikes in every direction possible, not having brushed it after the sleep. Turning back to you, he gestures for you to get up and go.

You do, just curious as to what space they are wasting outside- purely curiosity you tell yourself and to say you’re impressed with the view and heavily disappointed with them is an understatement. Jungkook stands at the door when you go from a normal walk outside to rushing to the barrier, leaning over and taking it all in because the view is- incredible isn’t even the right word; you can hardly imagine what it’s like at night, but you see why they don’t use it; there’s not even a chair out here. Oh, what you’d do with a space like this- some plants here, different types of chairs and couches there, oh- a fire pit there, maybe an electric one if they can’t have a real one but it absolutely has to be a dark bronze-

Jungkook can see the stars in your eyes as you look around it all, pretty much dancing around the space as you take in the view from every angle, parading down the barrier on each side. You’re calculating where things could- should go, then you turn to him accusingly

“Yah- why don’t you guys use this!” - You’re clearly passionate on the subject, waving your hands around to gesture wildly. He listens as you go to each corner, pointing at different things you spot and giving all your reasons on why you think they’re silly for not taking the opportunity to. You turn around after a few minutes of you not getting a single reply to your endless reasoning and then stand a little frozen, a little confused because Jungkook’s just smiling, not with teeth, as if it’s funny, not as if he’s making fun of you, just smiling, admiring.

It knocks the rest of the reasons you had right out of your brain, a little dumbfounded with his staring. You don’t think you’ve been this passionate about something other than the cafe since, well, a long time before the cafe- you love it; it’s your dream come true, but it did become your entire life. Maybe you should try to find some kind of way to have more time to yourself. Yoga looks fun.

You laugh at your own thought, and Jungkook joins in, just finding your laugh contagious.

“Really, you should decorate it and come back to use it” - Jungkook gets out, avoiding your eyes as he says the last bit; maybe he does want you here more, more than he can quite accept at this moment.

“I might have too if you all keep neglecting it like this” - You retort, once again laughing off his words, hardly taking them seriously, and he can see you raring up to scold everyone else in the kitchen for their ignoring of the balcony you deem so amazing. Jungkook wants to tell you he's serious, that you really should, but he's cut off by Yoongi calling out for you both to come and eat. It’ll have to wait.

Sitting back down at the table after Yoongi has sat and already set everything out, your juice appears to have magically refilled itself, and when you take in the look and smell of it all, you nearly melt into a puddle right there in the middle of the kitchen. You haven’t had anything truly homely in a long time. While you make an effort to avoid eating instant ramen every day, that doesn’t mean that the meals you do prepare are especially tasty or well-planned; instead, they are typically just simplified versions of meals because you lack the energy to put in the work. On Fridays you have a nice dinner, but it isn’t a home-cooked meal.

That's probably why it feels oddly relaxing, comforting to have something really cooked for you, a real meal; it tastes 10x more delicious this way too. Yoongi set out a variety of side dishes, probably ones they always have on hand like kimchi, and even cooked up some bulgogi. How he prepared everything is a mystery to you, alongside not liking the cleanup; you aren't great at multitasking with savoury food- hence your meals tending to be deconstructed and a little all over the place.

The smell is mouthwatering; there's a bowl and chopsticks already in front of you, and as soon as everyone is seated, they begin dishing up what they want. You can hardly process it before Jimin deposits a large amount of japchae into your bowl- too much for you to eat, you're guessing—and then, like clockwork, each of them just puts different sides into your bowl whilst doing their own before you have a chance.

Something you quickly realise is that they are an equally lively and calm bunch; you’re excited before you even take a bite because Jungkook takes one mouthful and starts physically jumping up and down while he chews, an angry sort of look on his face before diving in for yet another bite. Namjoon makes loud happy noises, and Yoongi just kind of eats with silent nods of approval, Jimin too, making a little conversation here and there.

The first bite is heavenly, so is the second, and the third; you still won’t finish the entire bowl because they overload it as if they are feeding three of you, but you think you’ll get damn close. Maybe everyone has their own way of eating good food because yours is to look at it wide-eyed and tap your feet against the kitchen island where they swing back and forth, tapping quite rapidly with small nods of your head. You gush your approval over the food more than once, so much that you don’t even notice Yoongi’s cheeks getting progressively pinker with each one, too entranced with the flavours exploding in your mouth.

This is domestic, feels natural and Namjoon is watching the tapping of your feet against the counter with amusement, never ceasing the entirety of the meal. It feels right.

You wait until the end of the meal to get back to the point of you being here in the first place. Sure, you’d apologised to Jungkook and Yoongi but you don’t know who was here, who was fretting over you; your omega is unusually quiet and calm, happy today though; recently she’s been nagging at you a lot, but now just- quiet acceptance after the whole scuffing and sleep thing.

Much to your dismay, you can’t even get a word in yet before Yoongi’s scolding you.

“Aish don’t do that” - He says, pointing at you with his chopsticks. You freeze, offence written all over your face

“Do what?” - Your apology is momentarily forgotten in this new moment of Yoongi telling you off

“I already said, don’t apologise.” - He shakes his head and the other three agree, voices all on top of one another.

“I didnt.” - You press, eyebrows raised as if they’re trying to touch your hairline, caught red handed

“You were going to” - He gives you the ‘don’t even try to lie’ look and you deflate, huffing out and bouncing your knee up and down to hold back the urge to apologise. That is until Namjoon puts his hand on your knee and stops its bouncing physically, just pressing down and then letting go. You’re thoroughly stunned enough to listen, and it also kind of takes away from your strong desire to apologise even if only momentarily. He isn’t doing it out of annoyance; the touch is soft. He rubs his thumb over your knee the briefest amount just once; it’s reassurance, a stop to your anxiety.

Jimin has to leave shortly after, just the three men and you are left; apparently, those three just have to write some songs and can do it in their own time so they don’t have to be in the studio today.

“I don’t think you should go home just yet Y/n” - Namjoon says without hesitation once you’ve all moved onto the couches, well, more just like you, Yoongi and Namjoon because Jungkook went to shower and change. You furrow your brows, eager to get out of their hair but not to get away.

“Why not?” - Yoongi just raises his eyebrow at you, a dead silent ‘are you serious?’ at your reply

“You’re going to throw yourself right back into work, trust me, we get it, but it’s not healthy” - Namjoon stresses, using his hands to exaggerate, and you can see the conflict on his face, but you can only sigh, leaning on your hand as you think back; the rest clearly did your body good, and maybe glimpses of a life less led by one thing is what’s making you feel a little warmer. Physically, it’s clearly helped, but mentally, it’s a struggle to walk away from putting as much effort and time in as you do.

“What he’s trying to say is; you’re body is fighting you Y/n, you can’t do this again” - Yoongi adds, blunt, but there’s a hint of raw emotion underneath. You pull the pillow by you a little closer in comfort because it doesn’t feel good to be scolded; of course it doesn’t, but you don’t know what to say.

“Just… stay, for today?” - Namjoon asks, practically pleads and you think it over; you’ve already stayed the night now- whats a few more hours if it makes them happier…

“Okay, I’ll stay for a while” - You nod, confirming and they both let out a sigh of relief, but now what do you do?

Inside Jungkook’s room, said man is kind of battling with himself, staring at his bed heavily conflicted as his body twitches to jump right back into the nest but his logical brain is saying: you’ve slept for 15 hours and you’ll sleep another 15 if you get in- you can’t do that.

Alongside that, he’s just got out the shower, in fresh clothes and he feels he should certainly become reaccustomed to the scent covering his bed… right? Especially when it smells so sweet in comparison to how you smelt last night originally, he likes this version.

“Kook.” - He spins, wide-eyed and caught red-handed, taking a jump back as if this isnt his own room to you and Yoongi at the door, his hyung looking all too smug.

“How long have you been standing there?” - He teases, Jungkook stutters over his reply, eyes darting between the bed and you both at the door before Yoongi gives up, taking his leave but you stay. Having been watching for a few minutes as he bit at his lips and stared so heavily at the nest.

“It is your room Jungkook, you can take it apart if you’d like” - You say, even if the words cause a pang to your heart and an internal whine from your omega, you don’t forget Jungkooks protest to you doing it earlier though and when he gives the same reaction, half-panciked at your suggestion

“No! No thats not-” - You’ve just noticed he has a little lisp, its cute, one of those things that you notice about each of these alphas that makes them more and more endearing, like Namjoon’s clumsiness. Then you catch on, or atleast kind of, you think so and your mouth works before your brain

“Then in that case, you know you can get in it too- right?” - As the words come out you kind of want to slap a hand over your head, why just why did you squark that out!?- Despite your own conflict, Jungkook’s eyes brighten and in an instant, like a puppy waiting for the ‘go ahead’ for his food, he’s bouncing right into the middle, splaying out across it but somehow not really moving a single thing out of it’s original place. It fills you with a sense of pride, you try to ignore how he has a face full of your scent, referring more to his comfortability when you ask

“Nice?” - Tilting your head with a big smile, Jungkook doesn’t even lift his head to answer, words muffled

“The best” - Oh- Now that makes you blush. You laugh a little awkwardly, not used to all these new things like having someone admire- desire- your nest and appreciate it other than you, it’s different to the one at home, some would argue it’s more intimate being in his bed rather than your own.

Rather than awkwardly standing at the door, you just walk over and sit on the edge, fingers twitching to reach out and run your hands through his wet hair, resisting and refocusing when he turns onto his side, staring at you, more like staring at your back, pursing his lips and frowning a little even if his eyes are dilated to the max and he feels blissful.

Moments later he’s holding out his pinky towards you, you stare at it for a second, confused, then melting at his words. You don’t think you’ve ever felt more appreciated than you have in the last 24 hours with them, never more cared for, more heard and doted over and your heart races, a little frown setting over your own face at the puppy-like look on Jungkook’s face, from the time you’ve known him, he’s always seemed kind of unsure, right now, he’s sure, sure in his care, in his worries.

“Promise you’ll try to listen to your body more.” - He waits, a childish gesture, but at this moment, it hardly feels invaluable; in fact, it seems to hold a whole lot more than just a curl of your pinkies. You let out a shaky breath before reaching your own out, intertwining it, fingers fitting around each others perfectly, his larger, a small tattoo at the base of his knuckle, and you stay like that longer than you both know is necessary.

“Promise”

—------------------------------------------------------------

Don’t ask any of the three men how they ended up here. They haven’t got a clue but what they do know is you sure can get bossy. They aren’t complaining- you’d like to say your precise and know what will look good rather than bossy.

They’d revealed in passing that they have a room filled with trinkets and furniture that they aren’t quite sure what to do with, and you’d stared at them in pure disbelief, refocusing on that balcony. Demanding to see said room was the first thing, and now where are they? Going back and forth, bringing things this way and that way according to your instructions.

The room was like a jackpot, filled with all sorts of pieces that had your eyes shining with ideas, with inspiration and while the three only saw a jumble of different things, you have a vision.

“So that balcony…” - You say, dragging out your words slyly and turning to them with your eyes shining bright, a silent question as you look between the contents of the room and them- who are they to say no?

If you’re going to spend the day here, not working, you might as well make yourself half-useful and help them make use of a space so so precious. The storage room goes from jumbled chaos to just having a few leftover pieces that didn’t quite make it into the final design, now that its pretty much empty you can notice the amazing natural light, it would make a great sunbathing room for a cat.

Anything particularly heavy - such as the large faux leather chair you’d dedicated to one particular corner—was assigned to Jungkook, who complained that his hyungs were perfectly capable of carrying them too; they did but anything they could went to Jungkook. Jungkook and Namjoon had already proved their strength over a month ago in the cafe- lifting the chairs so you have no doubt that they have the ability and Yoongi doesn’t make so much as a single grunt lifting things either, a very good bunch.

An XL outdoor rug, a leather chair, a large sofa-type thing, a wooden table and various small pieces and trinkets were brought out.

The boys simply did the heavy stuff, and without complaint. You would have done it yourself, but hey, what's the point when there are three muscled men there who could do it and argued to do it rather than you anyway? Simply saving yourself a job. You’re as independent as they come but what’s indulging once in a while anyway?

In the span of the time taken to bring it all out and place it where you want, you’ve made yourself a little more accustomed to their kitchen in between your instructions, making the hard-working boys a round of lemonade and fruit-filled smoothies. You can’t let them get dehydrated when they’re doing all the heavy lifting for you, each round being gulped down in seconds by the men.

The summer heat seems to be creeping up today, it’s manageable inside where it’s air-conditioned but with the three lifting and carrying and going back and forth outside, they end up pretty sweaty- determined- but sweaty and you have to force them to take a break after every few pieces. That does come with the rules of the break though- You shooed them away from the couches indoors because they were not getting them sweaty as if it was your own house and instead pushed them to the kitchen stools.

They don’t take their shirts off, but they might as fucking well- lifting them up to wipe their heads every two minutes, having to dart your eyes away because your omega- and you (don’t lie and say you dont) like that a bit too much. I will note what you notice though… Jungkook is built with a small waist and a full set of abs, not the kind that look like rocks, the kind that make you want to bite them. Namjoon has less defined abs, so visibly there but he’s like… thick in the best way- Like an effortless kind of fit. Once again, you’d definitely want to bite them. Unfortunately, you don’t get to see even a peak of Yoongi’s stomach- you think it would also be very biteable; there seems to be a pattern here… moving on.

What’s wrong with appreciating the view in front of you right?- Doesn’t mean anything- you can say someone’s attractive without it meaning too much more right?!- Okay enough-

When they are done, they’re all panting, and you push them onto the now outdoor couch, they can rest now while you begin your own part. Fairy lights and lanterns first. They had a box with a good variety and you best believe you’d tried out each and every set to find the warmest lighting and only picked those ones.

You’re going to hang the lanterns along the wall and weave the fairylights pretty much everywhere- you can already see how it’ll end up and its perfect-

The lights wont drape anywhere too close to the plants, you’ll make sre they have just enough distance, maybe go at it from multiple angles to distract anyone from seeing that- make it seem like they are wrapped around the plants too. Amongst all of your thoughts you kind of ignore the three looking at you curiously, ignore the way they watch your every twitch.

You don’t acknowledge them as you step up onto the armrest of the couch, right next to Yoongi and then from there, step up onto the back of it. You feel perfectly stable but they do not agree- in a singular moment all three let out small sounds of distress and Yoongi’s hands are shooting up to hold onto your legs, going hard and then tugging you straight back down. The pull down is far less stable and safe than you felt actually standing ontop of the couch and you turn with a questioning look on your face, wobbling as Yoongi stabilises you back on the ground, hands still holding just above your knees.

“You cannot climb up there like that-” - Yoongi fusses, the other two agreeing quickly and it only confuses you-

“Why not?” - Once again Yoongi is giving you the ‘are you for real?’ look and you are just about ready to brush off their silly protests to continue when Yoongi’s hands go firmer on your legs, keeping you exactly where you are

“Thats not safe- you’ll fall” - Namjoon stresses, clearly about to go into the thickness of the couch nd the height and all of the aspects that he thinks contribute to the lack of safety of your found stepping stool.

Their worries aren’t needed- you’ve done far worse to climb up things- okay maybe not on a balcony but you’re no where near the barrier anyway, you’re against the homes wall You laugh a little at their fretting, more like giggle in amusement and shake your head

“I won’t fall, it’s not that bad really” - You insist but they all kind of scramble to keep you in place, multiple sets of arms reaching to stop you from climbing again- panicked. As fast as they come, you swat them away with another laugh. You’ll humor them since they are so clearly against it.

“Okay so what do you suggest?” - Maybe you shouldn’t of asked that because what did they opt for instead of you climbing on absolutely anything? Sitting on one of their shoulders.

“Atleast that way you’re properly stabilised-” - Namjoon pushes, rubbing the back of his neck, hot and red with his awkwardness and embarrassment, especially when you’re standing there with your hands on your hips accusingly, eyebrows raised as you wait for their explanatio.

“You aren’t on a ledge, you’ll be sitting so you won’t fall” - Yoongi reasons and it still doesn’t convince you, definitely amused with a smile threatening to take over your lips but you refuse to give in to their - pointless - worrying so easily.

“And when I fall off your shoulders? Make you stumble and then both of us fall?” - You question and then all three of them return your confusion, clearly not believing that is even a relevant worry.

“We wouldn’t let you fall and why would we even stumble?” - Jungkook pushes, leaning in, head tilted and you laugh as you answer.

“You might and obviously you could stumble- a whole human on your shoulders would be hard to handle” - Its good reasoning, atleast you believe so- you believe its the logical answer, the logical thinking but they clearly don’t. Namjoon and Yoongi break into hugely amused smiles and Jungkook actually laughs, you stare at them confused at what is so funny.

“Any one of us could benchpress three of you Y/n, it’s definitely not going to be hard to handle” - Yoongi says smugly from behind his smile and you falter, face going blank to begin with and then processing his words- How can he just say that and expect you to know how to reply when theres some weird butterfly sort of feeling in your stomach and your omega suddenly perks up in your mind, chirping about how strong they are-

You don’t really have a chance to think of a reply anyway because through the three men’s amusement, Namjoon is standing up and gesturing for you to come closer, you just do it, accepting that you really don’t have a comeback to Yoongi’s words besides the attempt of ‘prove it’ and you don’t think that would really help your flustered case right now.

“How do i-” - You start, not knowing where to put your hands, your legs- how are you meant to climb onto someones shoulders anyway?!

Namjoon gets onto one knee, back towards you and leans down to make himself a little lower but you kind of just reach out and then pull back multiple times really having no idea how to climb onto him properly-

“Just climb on” - Yoongi says as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world, watching with amusement from besides you both

“What do you mean just climb on?! It’s not exactly an everyday thing climbing onto someones shoulders-” - You ramble and Namjoon has his head tilted down now, still waiting for you to get on but very amused, laughing a little.

You’re about to retort again and revert back to the original plan you had in mind- climbing the sofa not Namjoon’s body - when a sudden grip on your waist has you hoisted into the air, a yelp leaving your lips but you can’t think as you’re manhandled onto Namjoon’s shoulders, having to adjust your position to make this work, setting your legs around his neck, yelps leaving you one after the other at every movement, but you aren’t even in the air yet; you could stretch your toes and touch the floor from where you are, Namjoon still knelt down.

“Wait wait wait-” - You panic, Jungkook - who had lifted you onto Namjoon’s shoulders like you were a ragdoll, still has his hands on your waist, pretty much holding you up still and you grip onto his forearms hard, refusing to sit and put any weight on Namjoon’s shoulders, kind of in a weird bent diagonal position- trying to push your tiptoes on the floor to keep off his shoulders and balancing yourself but also not.

Yoongi’s laugh doesn’t make it any better; Namjoon holds so still so that he doesn’t spook you into losing balance and Jungkook has a very firm grip on you. Maybe it is a little funny, the boys’ amusement does bring a smile of your own to your face to be honest.

“I can’t sit on your shoulders Namjoon- i’ll be heav-” - You can’t even finish your sentence when Namjoon realises what you’re going to say, realising that is why you were saying wait and just takes it into his own hands, literally, reaching up, hands gripping onto your thighs and pulling you down firm until you are actually sitting on him. He doesn’t so much as twitch with your weight on him, no huff of air, nothing-

You can’t think as it all happens fast; no longer on your tip-toes, legs dangling over Namjoon’s chest now, sitting properly on his shoulders and Jungkook is pulling one of your hands off of his forearm to direct it towards Namjoon where your other hand follows, and you’re curling your body forward instinctually, hands grasping at his hair in panic; your eyes are wide at first and then squeezed shut.

Okay totally normal—just getting help hanging some fairy lights by sitting on his shoulders, totally normal, nothing to overthink about- nope not at all. Just focus-

“There we go, wasn’t so hard right?” - Namjoon asks, hands firm and secure on your thighs even if your feet are only dangling a bit off the ground so far, you slowly open your eyes and huff out, not answering that question because that was infact very hard. You’re soft in his hands, fingers dimpling into the soft flesh even through the pajama pants and he loves it.

“Am i hurting you” - Is what you say instead and Namjoon instantly denies, shaking his head, grip going a little firmer to keep you from trying to scramble off again and ultimately probably fall off. Then you notice your death grip on his hair and stumble over an apology, letting go and awkwardly petting his head better, the three alphas just laugh and Namjoon tells you it’s okay to hold on, you try not to but you have a feeling you probably will end up doing it anyway.

“Okay you ready for me to stand up? Just hold on, i promise i won’t drop you” - Namjoon tries to reassure you, you go tense where you’re sitting but nod even if he can’t see it, now or never and you’re half way there anyway-

He stands up in one fluid motion, as if you weren’t on his shoulders at all and at the sudden rise- hoisted high into the air and sitting a whole lot taller than you ever have the view of- you yelp and your legs cross in front of his chest where he still holds them, kind of going tight around his neck and you curl even more, your stomach pressed to the back of his head, holding onto his hair for dear life. You swear this whole ordeal has your life flashing before your eyes but… it is kind of exciting

Jungkook laughs where he sits, watching how it looks like your trying to do some sort of thigh chokehold on Namjoon and he doesn’t even complain, just holds you tighter but he does tap your thigh once, and you loosen just enough for it to be comfortable.

“Sorry- sorry… didn’t mean to choke you” - You scramble out, trying to slightly uncurl yourself and straighten up only to retreat from that mission for a moment because goddamn you are high up right now-

Yoongi stands next to both of you and then hands you the lights you need, string lanterns first and you hold them shakily at first, a bit reluctant to let go of Namjoon’s hair but when you do, you findt you don’t slip one bit, don’t even wobble, Namjoon is perfectly still as if you’re a part of his own body and his grip is grounding, reassuring, kind of relaxing even.

“Could you go to the corner if that’s okay?” - You ask, realising you can’t quite reach, and then Jungkook thinks of a solution rather than you verbally having to call out your directions each and every time.

“Have you ever watched Ratatouille, Y/n?” - You look over your shoulder at Jungkook, brows furrowed, but you nod and he perks up, leaning forward in his chair with a grin on his face.

“Just do what Remy does and tug a bit of his hair in the direction you need him to move” - Okay that is funny actually… Yoongi is nearly in tears; this whole situation has been far too amusing, even more so when you do actually pick up a section of hair in the middle of Namjoon’s head and tug it forward a little, a cheeky smile settling on your face when he just laughs and moves forward like you wanted him too.

Quickly, you realise you do actually have to straighten up though because where your curled over, Namjoons hair is tickling your sensitive stomach through the shirt you’re wearing and you keep twitching slightly, fearing that the more it swipes over you the harder you’ll twitch and then eventually fall so you straighten up and- okay this isn’t so bad…

A tug forward and Namjoon is walking even closer, okay maybe you can get used to this actually, it’s pretty fun.

You lean forward a little, thighs pressing further into Namjoon on impact and his grip tightens to keep you where you need to be whilst you begin to tie up the first string, fiddling a little but surprisingly, now that your up here, it’s not so scary.

Now that it’s actually happening the whole fact that you’re on his shoulders doesn’t really flash in your mind properly, you just kind of pull this way and that way and move how you need to, putting up all of the lights. To be honest, it is actually easier, you’re higher up and after a few minutes you’ve put all your trust in Namjoon, bending and turning freely despite being over 6ft in the air. You find that the closer you get to the balcony’s railing, the harder Namjoon’s grip gets and you joke a few times, reminding him that he said he wont drop you and such to ease the impending concern if there is any.

When you’re finished, you huff and relax in your new seat, Namjoon tilts his head back against your stomach to look up, which he has done quite a few times now and consequently has been rubbing his head on your stomach, scenting you a little there but you try to ignore the butterflies you get from it.

“Ready to get down?” - He asks, you nod, tellin him you are and then he steps into the middle where he picked you up before and once again you find yourself kind of curling over his fluffy head, holding on while he gets back down to the same position he did to pick you up and you think you could maybe awkwardly unhook one of your legs and try to slide down his back but you fear your other leg will get stuck. You can’t think too much about it anyway because Jungkook comes up behind you again and lifts you off easily, your legs kind of kick before they touch the floor, once again startled because how does he keep sneaking up on you like that-

Namjoon gets up once your off and your going to thank him when you see the mess you made of his hair, sticking in all kinds of directions. You smile sheepishly at it, reaching up.

“Sorry i messed up your hair” - You tell him and stand on your tiptoes to reach the top of his head, instinctively going to fix it

“Its okay” - Namjoon laughs out, dropping his head for you to reach, easily giving in to your desire to fix it, to care for him even the smallest bit. You run your hands through it over and over, brushing out the little tangles with your fingers and when you still can’t reach the very top of his head you walk a step closer, nearly toe to toe like you were outside of your apartment building in that hug that you will never forget.

Namjoon closes his eyes at the feeling, head drooping and when you step even closer, scent enveloping him more, his hands reach out before he consciously knows, resting on your waist. You freeze for a second, it shouldn’t stun you. You had Jungkook picking you up and down by your waist just moments ago, and Namjoon’s grip on your thighs, which were wrapped around his neck- it really shouldn’t stun you, but the warmth of his palms makes you shiver a little, skin prickling as a smile curls on your lips.

You don’t push him away; you don’t want to and your omega purrs within you at your acceptance, dragging it out just a little longer than necessary, fingers pushing his hair back over and over as if it really needs your untangling anymore, it doesn’t. Something in you is deeply satisfied by this kind of thing, by brushing through his hair, just like it was when you dried Jimin’s hair for him and did the same, it makes you want to purr.

Even when you take your hands away and Namjoon opens his eyes again, you can’t bring yourself to step back, bathing in the warmth of his hands covering your sides. It’s so gentle that it’s almost ticklish, you smile bashfully at him, cheeks definitely dusted in red and in that moment you can only focus on him, just him.

The only thing that snaps you both back to reality and has you taking a small, hesitant step back is the sound of the front door closing inside the home, echoing out and Yoongi gets up from his place to see who it is. Namjoon walks back and sits on the couch, relaxing back into it next to Jungkook and you quickly revisit your task- making this balcony perfect.

You dart around, tiny adjustments, everything seems to be in place but its missing something, you feel a deep kind of longing for something cozy, this could be cozy but it isnt yet and as you stare around, face scrunched almost angrily, you set sights of the pillows adorning the couch indoors. Thats what you need.

“Do you have any extra pillows and blankets?” - You turn to the two men, refocusing their attention on you and Jungkook perks up instantly, nodding

“I have a whole closet full in my room” - He’s immediately up and leading you back to it, theres no one in the hall or large living space that you can see so you aren’t sure who’s come home.

The said closet Jungkook was talking about is… heavenly. Eyes dilating to the max, you want to run and jump in the middle of the mountain of softness and fluff, you gulp hard, trying to refocus but it’s oh so tempting. Jungkook tells you to help yourself and oh you do. In seconds your sifting through each and every piece, filling your arms up with pillows of all kinds and blankets and then, turning around, hair a little askew because somehow you’d buried your head in the pile at some point, Jungkook laughs.

“Cute” - Is all he says and your so glad the pile you have covers near to your eyes because you flush right up to your ears, spinning on your foot and setting off back outside.

You only have one route in mind, one path to follow and honestly you couldnt really get distracted anyway because you’d drop the pile of softness or topple over so you hardly notice when Yoongi and Hoseok watch you from the kitchen, practically running back outside where Namjoon still is.

Namjoon stands up upon seeing your arms as to not get in your way and is aiming to move so you can begin but you dump the pile down and then push him back down too.

“I need a model to properly see” - You reason, urging him to stay there even if in reality you kind of just want him there to see whether he approves when you finish up…

Over the next few minutes you’ve placed countless pillows and blankets around, careful in your decisions on what types go where and such and when your finished, you spin to take it all in and realise the sun is beginning to set now, you’ve been here all day and now its actually dark. It makes you kind of sad, you don’t want this to end.

Namjoon catches on to the slight dulling of your scent and the way you look out almost longingly and sits up, you speak before he can say anything.

“I should probably get back now, the sun will set soon”

“You haven’t even had a chance to use the balcony you made so pretty”

“You can use it for me”

“I think you should stay for the sunset, it’s your favourite” - Namjoon tells you, you can hear that there is room for you to say no but he doesn’t want you too, and neither do you. But… You’ve never told him that this time of day is your favourite, never explicitly…

“I can drive you home whenever you want to go Y/n, you don’t have to rush” - Hoseok appears at the door and tells you and you jump, not having realised he was even back let alone basically right next to you.

“Just… a little longer?” - You say, almost asking and the two men nod, smiling and then the other two appear, Yoongi and Jungkook.

“Wah, look at it out here” - Hoseok gushes, looking over every detail, you wish it was a little darker actually so you could turn on the lights

The four men pour out compliments on your decorating until your beet red. Then they vow to make good use of it, all spreading out, Yoongi settles in the leather chair, the other three easily find their own spaces on the couch and then you are pulled down between Namjoon and Hoseok, a good amount of room on either side of you.

The air is starting to get colder but the two beacons of heat besides you shield you from the chill. They all continue to gush for a while, then things begin to settle, Namjoon plays some of his music and the other three scroll mindlessly through their phones, Yoongi occasionally taking time off of his to just look out at the view.

Namjoon knows you don’t mind the silence, doesn’t have to look over too many times at you to know you’re enjoying just looking out and watching. Theres a permanent smile on your face, a warmth settled deep within you and slowly you slump more and more, sinking into one of the many pillows behind you and your legs pull up just a little, half-curling up where you are.

It’s so beautiful; this feels so right, so calm and the sun is setting so beautifully from here that you simply want to freeze time. You welcome the gentle breeze, hardly noticing when Hoseok pulls a blanket from behind him and drapes it over your legs. A peeled tangerine ended up infront of you at some point, nudged into your hand while Yoongi had one of his own across the balcony, you absentmindly nibbled at the segments, the orange of them is similar to the sky’s.

Your eyes feel heavy, mind feels so slow in the best way, the playlist on flitters through until you perk up a little, recognising Fleetwood Mac’s ‘Dreams’, briefly muttering something about how you love this song and someone, one of the alphas, mutter something back ‘of course you do’, endearing enough for you to slump even more.

Maybe you should just close your eyes for a few seconds, everything feels so warm when your usually cold and maybe closing your eyes will rid them of the heaviness, maybe…

The moment you quietly drift off, Hoseok is the first to feel it, your head slowly falling onto his arm and your body curling up more under the blanket over you, he can see you kneading it in your sleep and loosely, he drapes his arm around you, feeling you melt into his side.

Your gentle huffs of breath against his arm confirm that you’re asleep, your colder body soothed by his warmth, seeking it out as your hands reach to hold onto his arm too and his phone is long forgotten, just watching you now. No one wakes you, not yet, they let you rest, let you nuzzle further and further into Hoseok’s warmth and mildly nest in your sleep.

Hoseok tells them he’ll take you home in maybe an hour or two, lets you sleep for a little while longer. The gazes they all give you are full of warmth, full of care and adoration, admiring your every tendency even in your sleep. It’s almost as if you can feel their stares, hear their thoughts because in the silence that’s fallen over them, you purr, your lips curled up happily and it wrecks them. Oh it absolutely destroys them. Any doubt of their growing feelings towards you was lost in the soft breeze of the impending night, there while you napped so easily, so warm when you always find yourself so cold, a new kind of satisfaction.

Thank you so much for reading! I really hope you enjoyed this chapter please let me know what you think of it, I try to get back to comments as soon as I see them!

My asks are open for comments, questions, character asks, feel free to send something 💖💖

Lmk if you’d like to be added to Taglist x

Mwah 💜💖

ཐི♡ཋྀ

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[gldrushh]

GUILTY AS SIN? | JJK | PART 𝐈𝐈𝐈 |

"After all lessons are learned. There's only one to live out in practicality. You're not sure how good you're at it —only that, this time, you won’t try alone."

→ Pairing brother in law! Jungkook x widowed fem!reader

→ Genre forbidden love! au, childhood friends to lovers, angst, fluff

→W.C 20k

→ Warnings lots of mentions of graveyards, loss, nostalgia, because you can scream and scratch and bite but you can never go back, minhos third death anniversary, he stays haunting everyone, jk being lovesick, what's new?,their dating era!!, kissing, self realization, they make it official, mentions of anxiety, soft family moments :(, mention of jk threatening someone, protective jk, mentions of alcohol, like a lot, jk manhandling oc, she's drunk and a menace, he is so in love, and so is she apparently, jks nose gets appreciated, nose kisses, fluff, jk is rich, dancing around, real chessy stuff im sorry haha but trust me when i say that it pained me too

→ Playlist You are in love by Taylor swift

→A/N hi! hello! It's definitely not been a while since I posted but it most definitely feels like I've lived a multiple lifes since. I'm sorry for not posting when I promised and I'm sorry that you had to see me falling for rage bait because i don't belive that was anything but. Like genuinely get a life my brother in christ. I write fanfiction for a hobby. A silly little hobby. It's not that deep and you don't have to lose your shit over that. Anyways, all that negativity aside I wanna thank you to all the majority of my readers who were nice enough to put up with me. You all are who I write for and will continue doing so though can't say for sure lol. I've had a great time with writing this fic and all the love it got. It will forever hold a special place. These characters will forever hold a special place. I will miss them and I really hope you understand from the word count why it took the time it did and enjoy reading <33 please comment or message your thoughts!! Love you!!

| PART ONE | PART TWO | PART THREE |

The graveyard was deadened in a way that empty places where bones met soil learned to be. In a way that they are belived they are. With a stillness so complete, it surmised like a hostaged breath.

You sat cross-legged before the headstone, coat draped around your shoulders, your fingers numb from the stone bench that did little to hold warmth or from holding the bundle of white lilies, their stems slick with dew. You hadn’t put them down yet. You had spent the better part of your time here, staring at another small bouquet resting at the base of the grave—white carnations and forget-me-nots, arranged with care, like they always were. Someone’s been here before you. Arranged these flowers with love. There's just no name in some card that gives away the beholder of the love.

You traced the curve of a petal with your gaze, not touching it. Not needing to.

You're not wary of them. It's a graveyeard. It's Jeon Minho's—beloved son, brilliant brother, best husband—grave. It's never empty. You recalled, absently,how on his first death anniversary the plot had been crowded. A forest of flowers so pretty and perplexing, letters folded into stones, paintings left by former students who still wrote emails to an address that no longer worked. One of them left a thumb drive with a digital portfolio and a note that simply read: “I only got in because of him.”

Even now—three years later—his name never stopped resounding in impertuable places because he had a way of staying with people, even long after he’d left the room. Had this laugh that would get stuck in your head. And somehow, that made it both easier and harder. That he was remembered in a love that he alone inspired. Gentle. that was earned without asking. The kind of love that was mourned in secret, in ritual, in color.

You placed your bouquet down next to the others, brushing a fallen leaf from the base of the headstone. The stone was smooth beneath your touch, cold. You traced the carved letters-his name, the dates-and swallowed the lump that always formed when you read them too slowly.

“I was going to bring tulips,” you said softly, not sure if you were speaking to the stone or the wind. “But you always said they looked sad. Too floppy.” A just as sad smile that would have mimicked the tulips curled at your mouth.

“Thought I’d bring lilies instead. Thought they might hold their shape better. I hope they do.”

The ache wasn’t sharp anymore. But it was deep. It was marrow-deep. Though it didn't weight like it used to. It hummed in your blood, a familiar frequency. Almost like a song you’d once loved but now couldn’t bear to hear past the first few notes. Like the sky that is a pale repose of overcast, streaked with gray, the kind that always made Minho grumble about "bad lighting" when he painted. The ground is damp but not cruel. Just enough to remind you that time moves here too. That even woe must learn to grow things again.

A breeze stirred, threading through your coat, pushing strands of hair across your cheek. You didn’t brush them away. You leaned forward, elbows on your knees, the grave in front of you, the silence beside you.

"Odd taste you had, min-min." You said after a while. "I wouldn't be suprised if you would find me sitting here, trying to make conversation with a slab of stone romantic. Probably say how so much effort for a guy who once mixed paint water into his cereal is good kind of weird."

Your voice cracked a little at that.

You don't cry.

You think that maybe you’ve used up all your tears on the wrong days—the regular ones, the grocery-list ones, the Tuesdays that came out of nowhere.

And then because the present can only be held for so long, you begin to remember.

The first time you were ever in a graveyard. Before you understood what death really was. Before it had touched you. When it was just a mystery. A place with names and flowers and questions no one could answer properly.

It had been years ago—childhood still clinging to your limbs like summer heat, with scraped knees and sticky palms and dreams that stretched further than your little world could hold. You and Jungkook couldn’t have been more than ten. Minho, already bordering on thirteen, had taken to pretending that his age made him wiser, even though he still laughed too loudly at fart jokes and left crayon smudges on his school notebooks.

You had been searching for this place for a while.

Not this graveyard, exactly, but the idea of it.

A name. A date. Something real to press against the fading edges of Jungkook’s memory.

He had come across a slip of paper one day in the back of a file, folded four times over, nearly forgotten in the drawer of father's study that nobody was allowed in. The handwriting had been unfamiliar—elegant but rushed—and it bore two names. His parents, he said. He thought.

And for weeks, the three of you had quietly tried to piece it together.

You’d used the school’s clunky computer lab—pretending to research for a social studies project while Minho furiously clicked through online directories and civic records. You whispered questions to the lunch lady, who knew someone who once worked in town hall. You even bribed the janitor with your entire sticker collection to let you sneak into the staff archives one afternoon.

No one said it was about sorrow.

No one had to.

You just wanted to help him find something—anything—that made him feel less like a shadow of someone else’s loss.

And finally, on a Thursday that still smelled like last night’s rain, you did.

You’d all skipped school that day.

The air still damp from last night’s rain, the sky overcast in a way that made the world look softer, quieter, like someone had pulled a cotton sheet over the sun.

It had been Minho’s idea, but Jungkook who needed it. You remember that part vividly, because he hadn’t asked out loud. Hadn’t needed to. He had stood in the courtyard with his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his too-big jacket, hair a mess, eyes darker than usual. And Minho had just looked at him, then at you, and nodded.

“We’re going,” he said. "Are you ready, Kook?"

He was holding a slip of paper in one hand and clutching the edge of his jacket with the other.

“Yes, hyung." He had nodded. "I want to find them."

The air around you had gone quiet then—not out of shock, but out of care. Like the air had thinned out so as not to crowd him.

“We’d get in trouble,” you had broke the silence, voice a sharp whisper, mind already thinking of all ways you could get in trouble, eyes darting to the teachers pacing the other side of the field.

“Yeah,” Minho agreed. “But it’s a good reason. I'm sure they will understand...right?" Taller than the both of you already. He looked between Jungkook’s face and the paper again, then over at you.

You’d rolled your eyes, half because you were nervous and half because that was your role in this trio—to be skeptical just enough for Minho to feel brave. That made minho provide reassurance to his own doubt. "They will." Minho had said, like it was that simple.

And it was.

It always was, with the three of you.

You were kids, but not careless ones. You planned it like it was a secret mission—packed snacks in the side pockets of Minho’s bag, let Milo tag along even though he wasn’t technically allowed out without a leash. The sun was high when you snuck out, the kind of early spring day that couldn’t decide if it was warm or not. As if it was playing a cruel game of hide and seek, peeking through clouds that weren’t sure if they wanted to rain again. You wore your favorite jacket—denim with a strawberry patch on the sleeve. Jungkook didn’t bring anything except the folded piece of paper. Milo sat at his feet, tail thumping occasionally against the metal floor of the bus.

You caught the bus by the corner near the florist’s shop, ducking low behind the seats in case any familiar faces passed. The journey was slow. Long bus ride—two transfers, three wrong stops. You sat tucked in the back row, heads down, laughing behind your hands when Milo licked a stranger’s elbow. You passed the time counting license plates and telling each other made-up stories about the people outside.

One old man at the third stop looked at you from under his hat and said, “That place? That place’s been forgotten.”

But then a woman at the vegetable stall a few streets over gave you better directions. Told you to follow the path lined with dogwoods until you saw the iron gates.

You wandered through the quiet neighborhoods of Daejun on foot, sneakers wet from the last puddles, stepping over cigarette butts and crushed petals, past shuttered stores and a shrine half-covered in ivy. The deeper you walked, the more the world thinned out into something older. Something that felt sacred and sad all at once.

The graveyard.

Wrought iron gates half rusted, vines crawling up the stone wall, the sign chipped but still legible.

There was no one there to greet you. Just wind. And quiet. And Milo’s soft panting.

You stepped inside together, slow. Reverent. As if you were entering a cathedral.

You didn’t speak much. Just looked.

Row after row of headstones, some cracked, some buried under moss. The names were unfamiliar. The silence, even more so.

“I think it’s this way,” Minho said, squinting at the map he’d drawn on notebook paper. “I printed a map. And I’m, like, really good at reading maps.”

“You got us lost last week trying to find that new ramen place,” you reminded him, turning around to walk backwards for emphasis.

Minho rolled his eyes. “That was one time."

"Was it?" You looked at Jungkook to back you up but he only cracked a tiny smile at that. You caught it—brief, barely there—but it warmed you anyway. It had been a long week leading up to this.

“They’re somewhere near the east wall,” Minho said, squinting at the faded directions. “Row 12, plot 33. I think we’re close.”

Your footsteps crunched over gravel and scattered leaves. Milo veered off occasionally, sniffing at corners and chasing insects, but always came back. The sun filtered through bare branches in patches, dappling your arms in faint light.

The wind picked up when they turned the final corner—soft, not cold, brushing past their jackets like a whisper. Row twelve stretched ahead in crooked lines, some stones older than others, names worn down by years of weather and forgetfulness.

Jungkook stopped walking.

Your eyes followed his gaze.

Two gravestones stood side by side, tucked beneath a slant of oak branches. The grass was longer here. The stones smaller than you expected.

They were side by side. Dates etched beneath them.Born years before any of you. Gone before Jungkook had learned what it meant to belong to anyone. No pictures. No flowers. Just names and silence. And that was all he had.

Jungkook stared at them like he didn’t know what he was supposed to feel. Like maybe he’d expected something different. Or maybe he didn’t know what he expected at all.

His hand crumpled the piece of paper still clutched in his fist.

You moved first, not touching him, just standing nearby, close enough that he’d know you were there if he needed you.

Minho lowered the backpack slowly to the ground, the usual jokes stalled on his tongue. Even Milo went still, sitting quietly at Jungkook’s feet, as if he understood the moment too.

Jungkook stepped forward, cautiously. His sneakers scuffed the grass. He crouched slowly in front of the grave, his knees pressing into the damp soil, fingertips hesitating above the stone.

“That’s them?” he asked, voice tight in his throat. “For real?”

Minho nodded. “Yeah. The names match.”

Jungkook didn’t speak again. He pressed his fingers lightly to the letters on the headstone—first his father’s, then his mother’s. They were cool from the shade, worn smooth at the edges.

You crouched beside him. He turned his head slightly, just enough for you to see the way his eyes were glossed, not quite crying, but close. “Do you think they were nice?”

Minho sat down cross-legged beside him, stretching his legs out like it was any other afternoon. “Your mom? Definitely. Anyone who names a baby Jungkook has to be at least kind of awesome.”

That earned the smallest laugh from you, and then from him.

Jungkook looked at the gravestones again. “Do you think they’d like me?”

You nudged his side with your elbow, gently. “Koo, it’s kinda hard not to like you.”

“I dunno,” he mumbled. “I cry sometimes. And I suck at spelling.”

Minho made a dramatic groan. "You’re the coolest. Smarter than me. And you always win at Mario Kart.”

Jungkook ducked his head, but you saw the way his shoulders loosened. He reached out then—hesitant—and brushed some dirt off the stone. You watched the movement, how careful it was. How reverent.

“I didn’t think I’d feel anything,” he murmured.

“But you do?” you asked.

He nodded, still not looking at either of you. “Yeah.”

You stayed there until the sun dipped lower behind the hills. Minho finished the sketch and tore the page from his book. He folded it carefully, handed it to Jungkook without a word.

Jungkook looked at it for a long moment, then tucked it into his hoodie pocket.

“Hey,” Minho said as you were walking back toward the gates. “Think they’ve got a vending machine nearby? I want strawberry milk.”

You laughed. “You always want strawberry milk.”

He smirked, tugging his cap lower. “Yeah, well. It’s a long walk home.”

You trace the rim of the headstone now, your fingertips ghosting. Lingering. Your voice is soft. Almost like a child's again.

“We never did find that vending machine.”

The wind stirs in the trees like it remembers too.

“But you’d be happy to know,” you continue softly, “that your paintings found their way anyway.”

You smile faintly, fingers brushing a small chip in the edge of the stone like you could smooth it out. “It’s finally happening. Really. The gallery. Jungkook’s opening it today.”

You glance up toward the stone, as if you might catch his reaction.

“I told him we should. After I saw it—I mean really saw it—I couldn’t not share it with the world. And you know me. I don’t say things like that unless I mean them. I think… I think you’d be proud of how much care he put into it. How many nights he stayed up figuring out framing and lighting and titles. Gosh."

Your voice thickens around the word proud.

“He asked me what kind of wine you’d want served at the opening,” you add, with a shaky laugh. “I said you’d just tell people to bring root beer instead and call it a day.”

You look at the lilies now, at the way their petals fold gently inward. You try to imagine the sound of Minho’s laughter if he were here. Try to imagine the way he’d tease you for crying without making you feel like crying was wrong.

“It looks beautiful, Min min. The gallery. I think it would’ve made you shy. All those people showing up just for you. Can you imagine?”

You pause.

A crow calls from a nearby tree. A leaf skitters across the gravel.

“And something else,” you say softly. “I think I should tell you.”

It’s not a secret, not really. Just something unspoken for a long, long time. Something you’ve carried carefully, like glass.

“I wasn’t sure at first,” you admit, a dry laugh slipping out. “I mean, of course I wasn’t. It felt impossible. Like… crossing a bridge I shouldn’t have even been near. I can't even think of anything else to describe it to you."

The words take time. But you don’t rush them.

"The very first it was the the little bakery near the university with the good tarts. The museum with the terrible lighting but the softest benches. He even took me to that rooftop bar that used to give you vertigo—remember? "

You chuckle, covering your face briefly with your hand.

You shift your weight slightly, stretching your legs in front of you. A leaf lands on your boot.

“And then last week,” you continue, “he took me to this little Korean BBQ place in Hongdae. Said the meat was just okay, but the company made it worth it. We stayed until the restaurant closed. Walked along the river. He kissed me beside the railing. It was cold, and I couldn’t feel my fingers."

The place wasn’t fancy. People probably didn’t dress up for here dressed up or made reservations two weeks in advance. It had plastic chairs that wobbled slightly, walls lined with signed polaroids and grease-stained menus, and a sliding glass door that stuck every time someone tried to open it too quickly.

You ordered too much, of course. He insisted on the samgyeopsal, you picked the bulgogi, and somehow you ended up with three side dishes neither of you remembered asking for. The grill sizzled between you, soft smoke curling toward the ceiling vents, and Jungkook poured you a glass of water like it was part of an accent only he knew how to follow.

And there was something about watching him like that—hair pushed back, head slightly tilted, tongs in hand while he laid down the marinated strips of meat that made something alter inside you. Something small but sure.

Something you didn’t feel with the with the accountant who wouldn’t stop talking about NFTs. The guy who took you to a food truck but only ordered for himself.

A soft breath escapes you. “And it’s not the same. It’s not like it was with you. But it’s not different in the wrong ways either.”

You glance at the grave again, hands resting in your lap. Your heart hurts and swells at once.

“I think you’d understand,” you whisper.

And you do. In some strange, marrow-deep way, you believe it. That he would. That Minho, the boy who used to kiss the corners of your eyes and name his paint colors after inside jokes, would know what this meant. That he’d want this for you.

That he’d forgive you.

You reach for the lilies again, adjusting them so the stems don’t bend. Your eyes flick back to the stone.

“I still miss you,” you whisper. “I still love you.”

The breeze quiets again.

"And I still think you're the best friend I've ever had. That's why I needed to tell this this to you first."

Your fingers press gently to your lips, then down to the stone.

Who else would you tell other than the boy who had orchastered the definition of fairytale love for you? Who would you tell that you're starting to realize that he loves you? Maybe he had a for a long time now. And maybe you-

Bzzzt.

Your phone vibrated in your coat pocket.

The sound was soft, almost reluctant against the hush of the graveyard, like it too didn’t want to interrupt.

You blinked, pulled it out with chilled fingers, and read the message lit dimly on the screen.

[Dad:]

Sweetheart, we’re parked outside, still. Just checking if you’re ready.

You turned your head slightly and spotted the vague outline of your father’s car just beyond the gate, tucked in the corner of the lot. You could imagine your mother in the passenger seat, fingers wrapped around a thermos of tea, eyes scanning the trees while she waited with the scarf minho brought her two christmas ago, letting you have this moment uninterrupted.

They’re in town, of course. They always are, on this day.

It started the first year—when the pain was still red and raw and too large for your chest. Back then, you couldn’t eat, couldn’t speak without choking on the spaces where Minho should’ve been. Your parents had shown up with soup and chamomile tea and enough patience to outlast a storm. They stayed even when you didn’t speak for hours.

And every year since, they’ve found new ways to not let you be alone.

This day always makes them softer with you. Or maybe just more afraid of saying the wrong thing. Hovering a little closer. Speaking in quieter tones.

You sigh, brushing your thumb across the message. You don’t reply yet. Instead, you turn back toward the headstone, heart still soft and cracked wide open.You smile faintly.

“I should probably go.”

You reach down, sweeping a fallen petal from the edge of the stone.

“I’ll come by tomorrow, okay? Tell you how it goes."

You gather your coat closer around your shoulders, standing slowly. Your knees creak from the cold stone bench, from sitting too long in one position. You stretch slightly, then glance once more at the flowers now clustered at the grave’s base.

The sky has begun to change—clouds pulling apart in slow, reluctant threads, letting in slivers of afternoon light. You press your fingers gently to the headstone one last time.

"Wish me luck, min min."

You imagine he does. Hands in his pockets. Smile tugging wide and lazy. Head tilted, like he knows you've got this.

Like he's urging you to go back to the part of the story where something finally begins.

You slipped into the backseat with a soft apology, the car door clicking shut behind you.

“Sorry,” you murmured, pulling your coat tighter around your shoulders. The fabric had gone cold against your skin, but the chill clinging to you wasn’t just from the graveyard. “I didn’t mean to keep you both waiting.”

Your mother turned in her seat, her eyes warm even beneath the slight crease of worry still lingering at her brow. “Don’t be silly,” she said gently, her hand reaching back to rest briefly on your knee, the kind of maternal touch that knew when to press and when to ease. “We figured you might want a few more minutes. We all do."

“We were just talking about how this town hasn’t changed a bit,” she added, shifting the topic without making a show of it.

“She was talking,” your father interjected from the driver’s seat, a faint smile playing at the corner of his mouth. “I was checking the parking meter.”

“You were checking your watch and pretending it was the parking meter,” your mother teased.

“I was,” he insisted. “City’s always been eager to ticket people in parked cars.”

You let the cadence of their conversation fold around you, like the comfort of a familiar quilt. Safe. Worn soft with time. The kind of talk you’d heard all your life, in road trips and kitchens and walks through grocery aisles.

The engine kicked into motion, pulling you away from the graveyard slowly. You turned once in your seat, watching the wrought iron fence fade into the distance, your eyes lingering on the tree line long after it disappeared.

Outside, the town blurred past—branches heavy with the early promise of spring, cafés setting out mismatched chairs, signs swinging in the breeze like the sighs of old shopkeepers.

Your parents started talking about the café near the roundabout—how it had changed hands again, how the new owners apparently served matcha pancakes now, how the inside had been repainted a strange, charming blue. You listened with half an ear, forehead resting against the cool glass, hands folded in your lap.

Bzzt. Your phone made the same noise again.

[Jungkook]:

Are you on your way yet?

Missing you.

You typed back quickly, thumbs moving faster than your thoughts:

[You]:

On the way now. In the backseat with my parents. Be there soon.

He replied instantly like he was waiting with his phone in his hand.

[Jungkook]:

Good. See you.

You could picture him now—standing in the middle of the gallery in those dark slacks and a shirt with his sleeves rolled to his elbows, brow furrowed as he scanned the placement of frames and fiddled with the lighting, making sure nothing was out of place. He’d probably refused help again. Probably hadn’t eaten yet. Probably had to be convinced into not polishing every glass display himself.

You scrolled up, letting your thumb drag slowly over the thread from this morning:

[Jungkook]:

Good morning, angel ❤️

[Y/N]:

Good morning 😊

[Jungkook]:

Did you eat?

[Y/N]:

Just coffee so far. Did you?

[Jungkook]:

Two bites of toast. Stress eating. Lights are temperamental again but I'll sort them out.

[You]:

Don't stress it too much, okay? And eat.

[Jungkook]:

Copy that, professor.

You had smiled when you read that. Still did. A quiet little curve of your lips you didn’t bother hiding. Then he had sent a photo—one of the larger canvases half-unwrapped, sunlight catching the ridges of Minho’s brushstrokes like gold embroidery.

[Jungkook]:

Look at this.

[Y/N]:

Looks so beautiful. Everyone's gonna love it. You've done so much.

The light turned red and your father hummed to the radio while your mother picked at invisible lint on her sleeve.

[Jungkook]:

I can come get you after you're done visiting the cemetery. Just say the word.

[You]:

It’s okay. My parents are in town. I’m coming with them.

You were still staring down at the screen when your mother spoke again.“You’ve looked miles away for the last five minutes. Who’s texting you?”

You didn’t look up from your phone, but you could hear the knowing in her voice. “Oh.. it's Jungkook.”

“Ah,” she said, like that explained everything.

“He’s there already, isn’t he?” Your father asked casually.

You nodded, surprised. “Yeah, he’s… there. He’s doing a lot.”

“He always did have a stubborn streak,” your dad added. “Good head on his shoulders though."

Your mother smiled to herself. “I remember how he used to follow Minho around. And it's so beautiful now that he’s carrying so much of him forward.”

You looked down at your lap, throat tightening. “Yeah,” you said quietly. “It is.”

The car turned left and began its slow crawl into a lane that was too familiar.

You sat straighter as the car slowed, heart pulling taut in your chest, held in place by something between magnetism and memory. You recognized the bend in the road before you saw the sign—the soft flicker of gold script in the window, the sharp white glow of the "Open" sign casting its light across the pavement.

Your mother leaned forward slightly. “Oh. We’re here.”

The tires crunched over the gravel as your father pulled into the side lot. There were already several cars here, clustered neatly in crooked rows—some you recognized, most you didn’t. The gallery looked different in this light. Not the mum, plagnent space Jungkook first brought you to, that secret place where ghosts had been allowed to breathe without interruption.

the same place pulsed now. Lived.

Soft warm light spilled out of the tall windows. Music, muffled by glass, carried on the wind in threads. A little cluster of people stood out front—hands curled around invitation slips, eyes lifted toward the lettering carved into the wooden sign overhead.

You inhaled slowly.

It was still the same place you saw a month ago.

But it had opened its doors.

People had come. People would see it. His art.

The same paintings that once cluttered the corners of your apartment. That leaned against your sofa while waiting to dry. That held pieces of him—his bursts of joy, his quiet grays, his wild blues. You wondered if anyone walking past those canvases today would feel it. Would know what it cost him to bare his soul in brushstrokes.

And what it cost you to let it go.

Your mother turned to you in her seat, her hand reaching for yours, gentle.

“You okay, sweetheart?”

You nodded before you even knew if it was true. “Yeah, eomma. I’m fine.”

Your father opened his door, stepping out and stretching a little. “We’ll head in first,” he said, not unkindly. “Give you a moment if you need it.”

You managed a grateful smile. “Thanks, appa.”

The doors shut gently behind them. And for a beat, you were alone in the car, staring at the front doors of a dream made real.

Minho should be here.

That thought burned sudden and sharp and then softened into something acheful and wide. No. If love made ghosts, he’d be here already.

You reached for your bag, tugging out your compact mirror. You checked your eyes, smoothed your mouth, and whispered something into your reflection you didn’t quite hear yourself.

You abode in the stillness of the car for a few more seconds.

The engine long silenced. The peal of your parents’ voices faded into the low thrum of background music filtering through the gallery windows, the kind that belonged to wine glasses and quiet awe. The kind you imagined would play behind moments people would remember long after they forgot the taste of the wine or the exact words said.

You stored at the open doors. Arms stretched out. Yet you couldn't find it in yourself to move.Your fingers fidgeted in your lap, tracing the stitching of your coat. The sleeves of your blouse itched slightly at the wrists where your nerves collected like water pooling before a storm. You weren’t sure why your hands trembled. Maybe it was the anticipation. Maybe it was memory. Whatever it was, you had to brush past it.

You finally opened the door.

The wind greeted you with the breath of spring—soft, cool, perfumed faintly by something blooming just out of sight. The air kissed your cheeks, lifted the ends of your coat, and whispered welcome in a language only the brave know how to answer.

Your boots landed on the pavement. One step after the another. surely you remember the movement. there's only so much a day can take away from you.

The closer you walked to the entrance, the quieter the outside world became. The street behind you faded. The city paused if it could even do that. All you could hear now was the creak of wood beneath your feet as you stepped through the front doors, the soft closing of them behind you.

You found yourself in the hallway.

Long. Polished. Narrow in the way old corridors are. lit warmly with sconces that cast golden glows on textured walls. The murmur of voices came from farther in, down toward the gallery proper. That’s where everyone must be. You imagined them standing in front of the paintings, glasses of wine held loosely, their faces tilted upward in soft admiration, eyes wet in that quiet way art sometimes invited. People standing in front of Minho’s canvases and murmured things like "alive" and "honest" and "brilliant" without ever knowing the sound of his laughter.

But this hallway was empty. Or you thought it was.

You had just reached the halfway point—right where the hallway curved inward—when arms slipped around your waist from behind.

A gasp left you before your body remembered the shape of his.The scent of cedar, lavender soap, and faint varnish clung to him like an afterthought. His arms locked around you with the ease of practice but the fervor of something still new, and for a moment, the world dipped, rearranged itself around this one small plantery motion.

“There you are,” Jungkook murmured, voice rough against your ear.

You turned in his arms, your hands finding the fabric of his shirt like they’d always known how. His sleeves were rolled, just as you imagined, the fine lines of stress still etched around his brow.

His eyes met yours.

And something in your chest loosened.

"Were you looking for me?" you asked quietly.

He replied just as. "I'm always looking for you, angel." There was no flourish in the way he said it. Your breath hitched, a tiniest of movement and Jungkook watched the subtle shift of your expression like a ripple breaking the surface of water.

Gods, he thought, how could he not?

Even now, here, when there was so much else demanding his attention—guests arriving in waves, wine being poured, lights flickering again in the east wing. And still, in every room he walked into, in every face he passed, he found himself searching.

It was ridiculous, really. The way his eyes would scan the corners of the gallery and mistake someone’s hair, the tilt of a shoulder, the sound of your laugh echoing in his head like phantom static. The way his pulse leapt anytime the door opened. The way he felt incomplete if he couldn't place you in the room.

And now you were here. And the world had stitched itself back together.

You didn’t speak at first.

Not because you didn’t want to. But because your heart felt like it was still catching up after it had been walking this hallway too, trying to find its way to him.

“Well, you're the host. I'm sure you must be needed elsewhere too.” you whispered, reaching to smooth the edge of his collar.

Jungkook shook his head gently. “I'm exactly where I want to be.” His hands tightened just slightly at your waist.

He reached up, brushing a strand of hair from your face, his fingertips lingering just a beat longer than necessary.

“You okay?” he asked.

You nodded.

“Really okay?”

You hesitated, then whispered, “Now I am.”

He held your gaze for another moment, then dipped his head forward, just enough to press his lips to your forehead, his hands resting warm by your side. The world dimmed in that moment—just the two of you, suspended in quiet, his breath a soft punctuation at the crown of your head. But even as warmth bloomed beneath your ribs, there was a tight, pulsing thread of awareness that curled around your spine.

You stole a glance over Jungkook’s shoulder, eyes flickering to the curve of the hallway behind him—the doorway just around the corner where voices hummed, where glasses clinked, where footsteps could echo down the tile at any moment. Anyone could walk past. People with eyes and mouths and memories. Guests who knew your name. Friends of Minho’s. Colleagues. Distant family.

Anyone could turn the corner and see this—see him with you like this, your bodies tucked into each other. Your hand clenched softly into the fabric at his side. The paranoia was subtle, but it was real. It had crept in somewhere between the second kiss and the third hidden touch.

The thought made you tense, just slightly. He felt it.

“Baby.” Jungkook said, voice low, his hand drifting to the small of your back. “It’s just us.”

“Yeah, but…” Your voice trailed, lips brushing the fabric near his collarbone, your fingers curling into the cotton at his chest. “Someone might come.”

His eyes softened, though there was something that tightened at the corners giving way to a flicker of frustration he didn’t bother to hide. Not at you, obviously. He does'nt think he's capable of ever directing that at you. But at the way the world demanded so much of your caution, your retreat.

He leaned in, his nose brushing yours. "I promise. No one will."

The words curled in your ears, low and purposeful, like he’d carved them for just you. His hand slid up your back, a warm, steady line from your waist to your shoulder. You hated that you thought that they kinda do. You hated the need for shadows and how it has been shaping your frustration. How it has been shaping it in a circle so big you couldn’t tell where it started anymore. Only that it kept coming back. That it always ended with your pulse too loud in your ears and your eyes darting over your shoulder. Like what you were committing to didn’t deserve a place in the daylight.

You have also started eliminating even the possibility of the thought that it maybe didn't. Still, the guilt was no longer clean. It was clouded now, smeared at the edges with longing and the slow, terrible truth that what you had with Jungkook didn’t feel borrowed. It didn’t feel like a thing you could press back into a drawer once the moment was gone. It was the impossibility of compartmentalizing love.

Because how do you mourn someone and move toward someone else, all in the same breath? How do you walk through a gallery built from one man’s art only to fall into the arms of the man who framed it all?

It felt like it had grown roots.

And the more you buried it, the more it pulled at you.

You looked at him now—really looked. His brow furrowed slightly, not from worry but from effort. Like he was thinking, measuring, holding back the words that always swam just below the surface when you were this close.

Instead of saying any of the things tugging at the threads of your mouth, you stepped back just enough to feel the air slip between your bodies. Not far. Just enough for your hand to find his.

His fingers curled around yours instinctively. Always ready.

You looked up at him. “Is it crowded in there?”

"A little." He said. "Some of our colleagues. A few critiques."

You nodded again, absorbing that.

"None of them need to matter, yeah?" he added, searching your face, thumb skimming just beneath your eye. His next words were gentler.

You looked up then, caught the sincerity in his eyes, fought the urge to lean into his touch. Managed another nod. "Yeah...Can we stay a minute more?" The latter come out smaller than you would have expected.

“Take your time,” he nodded. "They can all wait."

You didn’t dare think about the look on his face when he had to let go of your fingers fitted around his after you said you were ready. He only offered a squeeze to your fingers and then let go with a kind of quiet reluctance, like pulling his hand out of warm water. The touch lingered, even as you stepped aside to let him lead the way. You rounded the curve of the hallway together, the voices sharpening in clarity now, glass clinking against glass, the soft rustle of shoes on polished tile growing louder until the threshold broke open and the gallery revealed itself in full.

It was no longer the dim, sacred place. It breathed differently now. Alive with soft light and the lull of conversation, with coats slung over arms and programs curled in curious fingers. Warm gold spilled from fixtures in the ceiling, catching on frames that lined the walls like punctuation. Artwork stretching in long, thoughtful rows, each canvas dressed in celebration. Of someone's unfinished story? you doubted it cared.

You stood still for a moment, toes just brushing the edge of the gallery’s threshold, eyes skimming the room as your body remembered how to belong to this space. The floors had been polished to a mirror shine. Glasses reflected in the glass cases. Someone was laughing softly by the front corner near the sculpture series.Others stood near the windows, wine glasses held delicately, murmuring words like “devastating,” “formidable,” “alive.” It wasn’t performative in a sense that you made up in your head. At least not all of it. You recognized a few of them—students, former professors, one woman who had once hosted Minho’s university exhibit and had cried at his brushwork.

You darted your gaze to Jungkook then. The way he walked just ahead of you now, poised and solid in his dark dress shirt and pressed slacks, shoulders straight, head slightly tilted to catch bits of conversation from passing guests. He looked composed. You assumed or you'd like to think so that he only bared his nerves in front of you. As if the man who used to flinch at compliments and pretend his silence was indifference had taught himself to carry meaning with quiet precision.

But then a man stepped into his path. Tall, suited, carrying a drink and the kind of posture that belonged to someone who used the word “impressionist” a little too often. His smile was sharp and familiar, one of Jungkook’s gallery donors or colleagues, you assumed. Maybe from Seoul. Maybe further. Either way, it took only a moment for you to read the shift in Jungkook’s expression—the subtle recalibration of his shoulders.

He turned to you before the man could fully pull him into conversation, fingers brushing your wrist in a barely-there promise. “I won’t be long.”

You nodded, already letting go. “Of course,” you whispered, because it was all you could offer right now, and maybe all he needed.

The man clapped Jungkook on the shoulder and pulled him aside, voice too loud and smile too bright. You watched them for half a moment—Jungkook answering politely, gaze flickering every so often in your direction like a thread trying not to fray before you eased yourself into the soft tide of the room, letting the current pull you away.

You moved carefully, politely. Like someone trying not to be noticed but still present enough not to be rude. You paused by a small table draped in navy linen, where empty glasses sat beside a quiet arrangement of baby’s breath and ranunculus. Someone offered you a flute of sparkling wine, and you accepted with a quiet smile.

You turned toward one of the walls, drawn in by a piece you hadn’t seen before; one of the mid-sized ones, full of green and amber and soft streaks of silver. The color didn’t move, it shimmered. Softly. Like someone had taken the feeling of being loved quietly and turned it into oil and canvas.

The placard below it simply read:

“Until Then.”

Minho’s signature curled in the corner, the same familiar scrawl you’d once watched him sign onto birthday cards and tax forms and the back of the fridge note that read don’t drink the milk, I’m trying to paint with it.

You had just rounded the sculpture wing—Minho’s smallest works, done in smoothed resin and wire, quiet things that bloomed under light like secrets left in the sun—when you spotted her.

Your mother, standing near the northern alcove, a glass of wine untouched in her hand, fingers curled gently around the stem like she was trying not to leave prints. She looked beautiful beneath the high arch of the window, her coat tucked neatly at her elbow, hair pinned like it always had been like she hadn’t aged a day past the first time she walked into your kindergarten recital.

You slipped beside her, your hand brushing her arm in greeting.

“Hey,” you said quietly.

She turned, her face lighting up with that familiar mix of joy and worry, the kind only a mother could balance so well. “Here you are. I was wondering if you’d gotten swallowed by the hallway.”

“Almost,” you said, managing a faint smile. “But I escaped.”

"where's dad?" you added. 'making friends I think."

Before you could respond, a familiar voice laced into the air from behind.

"Found you."

Mrs. Jeon stood a few feet away, her posture regal even beneath the soft, flattering lights. She wore navy silk—understated but elegant—and her hair was pinned in place with simple pearl combs. Always the portrait of grace, always the kind of woman who held her sorrow like a folded note in the corner of her purse: private, creased, but always within reach. of her, atleast.

Her smile, though, was real. It warmed as she drew nearer.

"Mom." You muttered in muscle memory.“I was hoping to catch you before the crowd did,” she said, pulling you in for a quick, maternal sort of hug. “You look lovely.”

“So do you,” you said honestly, letting yourself be held for the brief second she allowed.

"You look exactly the same, you witch. Do you age backwards?”

Mrs. Jeon turned at the sound of the voice she hadn’t heard in a while—one that still carried the same quiet humor, tinged with a touch of fond exasperation. Her eyes widened slightly before softening, and her expression brightened into something looser, something more like the woman she might’ve been before grief gave her bones new weight.

“Oh, look who’s talking,” she replied with a smile, already moving forward. “Still glowing like you’ve got a secret no one else knows.”

Your mother laughed as they embraced, arms curling gently around each other’s shoulders in a way that spoke of familiarity—of years stitched loosely together with holiday dinners and shared glances from opposite ends of the table.

“It’s been so long,” your mother murmured as they pulled apart. “I’m sorry it took something like this.”

Mrs. Jeon shook her head, brushing it off with a small wave of her hand. “Don’t be. You’re here now. That’s what matters.”

"It's been a long time still. When was even the last time we saw each other properly?"

Mrs. Jeon tilted her head, eyes narrowing slightly in thought. “Hmm—wait, there was that awful fundraiser for the community garden. The one where everyone got food poisoning from the shrimp cocktail.”

Your mother gasped. “That’s right! I completely forgot about that.” Her eyes glittered with the memory. The laugh that followed was lighter than you expected it to be. “We left early and went to get hotteok from that little cart in the alley.”

“We did,” Mrs. Jeon smiled, and something softened in her gaze, her fingers brushing absently over the pearl comb in her hair. “You know, I don’t think I’ve had hotteok since.”

For a moment, it was easy to forget the reason for this gathering. Easy to forget the weight of what this day had always meant.

These were two women who had held time in their hands and offered it gently to each other across decades. You saw it now, plain as anything—in the crinkle of their eyes, in their voices when they leaned closer, speaking not just as in-laws, but as women who had once, maybe still, shared the same kind of heartbreak no parent should have to.

“Has he come?” your mother asked softly, her tone shifting as she scanned the room briefly, no longer talking about students or fashion or time but of something more specific.

Mrs. Jeon’s expression softened, her posture stilling in that way you’d learned to recognize—when something trembled just beneath the grace. She shook her head once. "No." she said, smoothing her hand down the front of her skirt. “He wanted to come. Really, he did. But I guess he had to sit this one out." She passed you a apologetic look and you nodded in reassurance.

Your mother didn’t press either. She simply nodded, and her hand found Mrs. Jeon’s again—a squeeze, not meant to comfort so much as to acknowledge. To say, I know.

“I’m glad you’re here,” she added, turning to you, her hand squeezing your elbow briefly. “I know today couldn’t have been easy.”

"Makes the two of us, mom." You said with crinkle of your eye that earned a acknowledging smile from her.

Reaching out to adjust the collar of your coat like it was second nature, she added. “He’d be proud of you, you know. Both of you.”

You didn’t trust yourself to respond to that with anything other than a quiet, "I hope so."

She let out a breath, slow and steady. “Oh, my dear. He would.”

And then, like all good women who’ve loved and lost and laughed too hard in small corners of too-large rooms, they both smiled again.

Then Mrs. Jeon tucked her arm into your mother’s. “Come on,” she said with a small lift of her chin. “You’ve got to tell me where you found that skirt. And I need wine before I start tearing up in front of a painting again.”

"Oh I've been out of loop for years. I've got to." Your mother said and offered a hand to you. "Would you like to join us, love?"

“You should.I have stories,” Mrs. Jeon promised, and you smiled. "You two should go. I'm gonna look around a bit and try to find Mira. She's here, right?"

“Oh, I saw her by the impressionist wall earlier,” Mrs. Jeon said, glancing over her shoulder. “She looked like she was interrogating someone about varnish techniques.”

“That sounds about right,” you replied with a smile. “I’ll catch up with you both in a bit.”

They nodded, already slipping back into their quiet conversation, and you watched the two of them disappear into the soft murmur of the gallery, heads tilted together like old friends caught mid-thread. You turned then, letting yourself exhale fully for what felt like the first time since you stepped through the door.

A cello murmured somewhere over the speakers, curling between the talking here and there, and the lights glowed honey-gold against the soft canvas walls. Every corner of the room breathed with pigment. you could'nt stop noticing that.

You wandered.

Your boots tread lightly over the polished floor, hands tucked loosely in front of you, eyes scanning the crowd—pausing now and then at paintings you remembered in their messier stages: taped along the kitchen wall, hanging crooked behind your sofa, still smelling of linseed and dust. It was surreal, this setting—so curated, so clean—when you remembered the life that birthed the art was anything but.

You caught a flash of Mira’s hair through the crowd, that soft copper tone that always helped you find her in a room. You lifted a hand slightly, already beginning to weave your way toward her. But before you could call out or lift a hand in greeting, someone stepped into your periphery.

“Excuse me��are you…?”

The voice was tentative, warm with a kind of hesitant reverence. You turned, expecting perhaps one of the donors or a distant family friend, only to find a young man—tall, soft-eyed, and maybe just a little older than Minho had been when he first started teaching.

He looked vaguely familiar, though you couldn’t place him immediately. He stood with a kind of earnestness that was hard to fake, his hands clasped in front of him, suit slightly rumpled like he’d run here from the train.

“Sorry,” he said quickly, offering an apologetic smile. “You probably don’t remember me. I was one of...uh..your husband's students.”

Something gentle shifted in your chest.

“I… didn’t want to intrude,” he added. “But when I saw you, I thought—well, I hoped I could say hello.”

Your throat tightened. You tilted your head and smiled softly, gesturing toward a nearby bench nestled between two hanging pieces—one of them a landscape Minho had once painted after a rainy drive through the mountains. “You’re not intruding,” you said. “Do you wanna sit?"

He seemed almost surprised at the offer, but nodded. You watched him ease into the seat beside you, clearly trying not to take up too much space.

“What’s your name?” you asked gently.

“Jihoon,” he said. “Lee Jihoon. I took one of his electives in my final year. Painting, beginner’s level. I was…awful at it.”

You laughed quietly, a real sound. “He’d argue there’s no such thing.”

“That’s exactly what he used to say.” Jihoon grinned. “Said ‘awful’ just meant you had somewhere to go. I always remembered that.”

There was a pause, full but comfortable.

“I didn’t really know him that well,” Jihoon admitted, his voice softening. “But he remembered my name. Every single week. Asked about my projects. My mood. Even told me once that the colors I picked made him think I saw the world kindly.”

You blinked.

“Not a lot of people say things like that,” Jihoon murmured. “Especially to someone like me. I was a chemistry major—out of place, anxious, tired. Had no idea what I was doing with my life. Until I came across his class, of course."

“That’s so beautiful, Jihoon." you said, the words catching slightly on the edge of your breath. “He always did have a gift for reminding people of their light.”

Jihoon nodded. “I don’t paint anymore. But I kept the last thing I made in that class. Just a mess of color on canvas, really. But sometimes I look at it and think—he saw something in it I didn’t.”

You smiled, blinking against the warmth flooding your eyes. “He had a habit of doing that.”

Another beat passed. The murmur of the gallery swelled around you like background music scored too gently for something so profound.

Jihoon looked over at you, his expression shifting into something fragile, more careful. “I’m really glad I got to meet you,” he said. “I don’t think he ever stopped talking about you in that class. Said if we ever wanted to get him any snacks, bring lemon bars." His face lit up with a quiet smile. “He said you liked lemon better than chocolate.”

You nodded, stunned by how clear the memory was now that it had been stirred. “I did.”

“Still do?”

You lifted a shoulder, the corner of your mouth tilting upward. “Some things never change.”

Jihoon smiled at that—wide and boyish. "That's nice to know." It was gentle, the way his presence sat beside you—like he wasn’t just honoring Minho, but also everything that had grown from knowing him.

Then Jihoon exhaled, slow and almost awed, eyes drifting back across the expanse of the gallery, gaze moving reverently from frame to frame, like each canvas demanded a certain kind of silence. “This gallery… it’s really something. And it’s a beautiful thing you’ve done, putting this together.”

Your heart flinched at that—touched, yes, but instinctively you shook your head.

“Oh—no. It wasn’t me.” You paused, glancing toward the crowd again. Your gaze moved past familiar faces, past wine glasses and framed brushstrokes, until it landed on the person you had, without realizing, been looking for since Jihoon sat down.

He stood just a few feet away, near the long window where the light curved in golden arcs across the floor. He was finishing a quiet exchange with someone in a charcoal suit—one of the critics, you guessed, or perhaps a gallery curator. His posture was easy but alert, as if one part of him remained in every corner of the room at once. His sleeves were still rolled, his collar slightly unbuttoned, and you could tell just by the slight shift of his brow that he was already scanning the crowd for you again.

Of course he was.

You raised a hand and waved, catching his eye. His face lit up—not in a bright, extravagant way, but in the way only people who’d been waiting to breathe could look when they finally did.

He made his way over without hesitation.

You turned back to Jihoon as Jungkook approached, gesturing gently. “That’s who did this,” you said. “That’s Minho’s younger brother. Jeon Jungkook. He’s the one who made all this happen.”

Jihoon blinked, clearly surprised. “That’s his brother? I didn’t know he had one.”

“Not many did,” you murmured. “They were close. Complicated. But close.”

Jungkook reached your side just then, eyes flicking briefly from you to Jihoon before settling somewhere in between—calm, but attentive.

“Hey,” he said to you, his voice a quiet tether. "Everything okay?"

You smiled. “Yeah. Jungkook, this is Jihoon."

Jihoon stood up immediately, offering his hand. “Lee Jihoon, sir. I was one of Minho’s students—back in my undergrad days.”

Jungkook took the hand, gave it a firm shake. “Nice to meet you, Jihoon. I'm Jungkook."

“You too. I was just telling ma'am…” Jihoon glanced toward the paintings on the wall, his expression shifting to something a little more awed, a little more raw. “This place is really special. You’ve honored him in a way that… well, I think he would’ve loved it.”

Jungkook’s jaw tensed almost imperceptibly, but his nod was deep. “He gave us so much,” he said. “This was just… the least I could do. Thank you for coming."

You watched as they stood there, just the two of them for a moment—two people connected only through love for the same person. Different kinds of love. Different shapes. But still, deeply rooted in retention, in ache, in admiration.

Jihoon dwelled for a moment after the handshake, shifting slightly from foot to foot like there was something else he was holding on to, something not yet said. His eyes moved once more over the room—past the guests murmuring quietly before landscapes of borrowed light and rain-drenched rooftops, past the gleam of gallery sconces and the soft ripple of music weaving beneath it all. Then he turned back to you, gaze steadied by something freshly lit.

“Would it be alright,” he asked, voice tentative, “if we—if someone made a toast?”

You blinked at him, surprised.

Jihoon cleared his throat, not quite sheepish, but aware of the weight of what he was suggesting. “I know it’s not that kind of event,” he continued, “and maybe this is out of turn, but… it just feels like we should. I mean—everyone here came because they loved him. Or learned from him. Or knew someone who did. I feel like he deserves that much.”

You were quiet a moment, absorbing that. Your fingers brushed against the hem of your sleeve. Behind you, Jungkook stayed still, close but not pushing. Letting you hold this decision.

Then you smiled—softly, achingly—and looked to Jihoon. “I think he would’ve liked that.”

Jihoon let out a small breath, and for the first time since he introduced himself, his shoulders eased.

Jungkook stepped in then, his voice low as he looked between you both. “Let me get someone to quiet the room.” His hand grazed your lower back briefly before disappearing again as he made his way toward the center of the gallery, where the natural dip in sound could be coaxed into pause.

You and Jihoon watched him go.

Jihoon straightened, cheeks slightly flushed, suddenly shy. “Sorry—I didn’t mean to overstep. It was just a thought.”

“You didn’t,” you said quickly, reaching to squeeze his wrist with a gentle, grateful hand. “It was a good one.”

The lights dimmed ever so slightly in a way that pulled attention without demanding it. Conversations tapered. A curator tapped gently against the side of her glass. Heads turned.

Jihoon glanced at you again, seeking silent permission.

You gave a small nod.

And then he stepped forward, clearing his throat once. “Hi,” he said, voice steadier than you’d expected. “Sorry to interrupt.”

The small squleche that followed was expectant—not cold. Rather, waiting.

“My name’s Jihoon,” he continued, “and I was one of Professor Jeon’s students. I didn’t know him as well as some of you might have. But I think—I think that’s what made him so special. You didn’t have to know him long to feel like you did.”

A few murmurs of agreement. A rustle of someone dabbing their eye with a tissue.

“He taught one class,” Jihoon said, “and I carried the things he said with me for years after. He made you believe you were capable of softness. Of seeing the world differently. Of being part of something even when you didn’t feel like you belonged anywhere.”

You pressed your fingers lightly to your lips, blinking against the sudden sting at the corners of your eyes.

Jihoon looked down, then back up again. “So if no one minds, I’d like to raise a glass. To Professor Jeon Minho. For all the ways he made us see color in places we didn’t know to look.”

There was a quiet chorus of glasses being lifted.

“To Minho,” Jihoon said.

“To Minho,” came the soft, scattered reply.

There was a sereness after Jihoon’s final words. Not silence, exactly—but the kind of quiet that settles after something sacred has been said aloud. For one suspended moment, all you could hear was the soft creak of someone adjusting their stance, the distant clink of a glass set gently onto a tray. A man nodded solemnly, his gaze fixed on the frame nearest him—one of the softer pieces, all dusk and ripple.

And Jihoon just stood there, blinking slowly, like he was still surfacing from whatever place inside him those words had come from. And when he turned toward you, there was something unreadable in his expression. Not pressure. Not expectation.

Just… offering.

He held it out—gentle, like it might break if he wasn’t careful.

“Would you…?” he asked, voice low. “I mean—you don’t have to. But if anyone should…”

Your breath left you all at once.

A soft, dizzying rush.

As if the floor tilted beneath your shoes, and suddenly you were thirteen again, being called up to the front of a school assembly. Your palms itched. The back of your knees tensed. Your first instinct—your strongest—was to shake your head. To step away. To dissolve into the crowd and pretend you were just another guest, just another echo of Minho’s story, not the one who shared the ending.

You hadn’t spoken about him like this. Not out loud. Not in public. Not since—

Not since the funeral.

And even then, the words had been written on a crumpled sheet of notebook paper you never managed to unfold.

You swallowed, blinking past the sudden blur in your vision.

The gallery was full. Packed. Shoulders bumped. Wine was held, not sipped. People who knew you only in tangents were watching now—waiting, not rudely, but with a kind of esteem that made the room feel tighter than it was. Their gazes weren't demanding. But they were present. And that was somehow worse.

Your feet didn’t move.

Your spine stiffened instinctively, not out of pride, but fear. Fear that your mouth would open and nothing would come out. That your voice would catch on the years you spent trying to say his name without crumbling. That they would all look at you and see not a woman still grieving—but a woman trying too hard to prove she still was.

Jihoon seemed to realize it too late.

His hand faltered slightly, his brows lifting in the smallest, guilty apology.

You inhaled through your nose, sharp and steady, the sound of your own breath loud in your ears. Your heart was racing. Thundering. The edges of the room blurred just slightly, like the light had leaned in too far.

This wasn’t how you imagined tonight.

You didn’t imagine standing beneath spotlights with every gaze tipped toward you like glass waiting to crack. You didn’t imagine saying Minho's name aloud in a room full of strangers who only knew the brushstrokes, not the man.

He was yours once. That memory still felt private. Sacred. Could you really put it on display like this? Wasn’t the art enough?

Your eyes darted to the floor. To your palms. To anything but the sudden attention.

And you thought—how does one speak about a person who once turned their love into art and left you with the aftermath of their absence? How does a person speak of someone who still walks the halls of their memory like the floorboards remember his weight?

But eventually, the words would come. And they would be something like: Tentative. Threadbare. But real.

“Hi,” you'd say the word small, too soft for the space at first. You cleared your throat gently. “Um. Sorry. I—I wasn’t planning to speak tonight.”

That would get a quiet laugh from someone.

“Minho wasn’t someone you really planned things with, either,” you'd add, your lips pulling into the barest shape of a smile. “He was… spontaneous. Kind of a whirlwind, honestly. He’d forget his keys three days in a row, but remember a stranger’s birthday after overhearing it in a coffee shop.”

The room would shift slightly—leaning in.

You took a breath. Let it settle.

“My husband wasn’t just a man who painted,” you said. “He was someone who watched the world the way some people listen to music. Closely. Devotionally. He noticed things most people didn't. Messy things. Especially those, I think."

You'd managed a laugh, more breath than sound. And you'd admit, for the first time out loud that grief is messy. It’s changed shape every day. Some days it’s a stone. Some days it’s a fog. Some days it’s a balloon with a string you can’t catch.

You'd pause and you'd tell yourself it's obviously not for dramatic effect. "But tonight is different. Because of all of you. Because you came."

You looked out then, gaze landing softly on Jihoon, on your mother, on Mira’s coppery hair now stilled in the far corner. You saw faces that had once lived only on the edges of memory, now lit by gallery lamps and the weight of shared knowing.

Your eyes, though painted a picture perfect of one man alone in the crown. Found comfort when they found him only.

Standing just behind the crowd now. His hands folded calmly. His head tilted, watching you like you were the only voice in the world. And maybe, for him, you were.

"And this was possible only because of one person."

Your voice would shake—just a little. But not from fear now.

“This was made possible by someone who loved him too. Someone who saw what he meant, not just to me, but to the world. Someone who held my hand when I thought I’d never feel anything but the absence. Someone who…” A unconscious smike would tug at your lips—tired, grateful, breaking gently at the edges. “Who also happens to be my boyfriend.”

And that's the thing about adrenaline.

"Thank you, Jungkook."

Or maybe it was longing, maybe it was just exhaustion wearing a braver face. Maybe it was the ache of having stood on a ledge for so long that when your foot finally moved forward, you mistook the fall for flight.

You didn’t mean to say it.

It had curled out of your mouth before you even registered the gravity of it, like a word said often in thought but never aloud. A word with teeth and color and something terrifyingly irreversible to it. A word that had lived only in backseat glances and unspoken tendernesses, in private touches and the quietness of shared nights.

And for a moment, everything inside of you would go still.

You'd wait—rigid, breath tucked in your chest—for the ripple of it. For someone to count the months, do the math, raise an invisible hand and say what you’ve been saying to yourself every night. The inevitable shift. The stiffened gazes. The whisper sliding across someone’s tongue like a question dressed up in disapproval before they decided how to create into the dirtiest scandle.

No collective sound of gasps would come but the silence would skin you down anyways. It would echo in your blood like something impossible to take back, something that forced you to run from everyone.

You locked the stall door behind you with trembling fingers.

The click of the latch echoed too loudly in the tiled silence, as if the world wanted you to know—yes, you were alone now. Yes, you had done that. Yes, you had said it. Out loud. In a room full of Minho's memories and the people who used to call you his.

You braced your hands against the walls of the stall, palms flat against the cold tile, eyes squeezed shut.

Your breath came shallow.

God.

You were so stupid.

It played again in your head—your voice, too soft and yet entirely too clear, threading through the quell of the gallery like silk cut on glass.

Boyfriend.

You had said boyfriend.

You had said Jungkook’s name and attached boyfriend.

And though none of the terrible things you thought in your head made it out loud, silence, when it’s thick enough, is just another kind of thunder. And now it was echoing between your ribs like a bell toll.

You sank down onto the toilet lid, coat bunched beneath you, elbows on knees, forehead in your hands. Your fingers against your temples like you could keep the shame from spilling further down your face.

What had you done?

You could still feel the phantom warmth of the spotlight on your face. The taste of exhilaration clung to the back of your tongue, sharp and coppery, like you’d bitten into a secret and couldn’t spit it out fast enough.

Why hadn’t you stopped yourself?

Knowing everyone who had been there. Your parents were probably standing near the back, holding a flute of wine with both hands like they always did when trying not to look worried. fingers curled too tight, probably, lips pursesd in a expression you would recognize too well.

And Mrs. Jeon. God.

What must she be thinking?

You had loved her son. Loved him through every phase of boyhood and manhood and married years. You’d sat across from her at too many dinners to count, brought her lemon cakes on Sundays, once helped her fix her shoe in the middle of the grocery store.

And now she’d watched you turn toward the brother. Heard you name him something tender. Watched you stitch that word between your anguish and your present like you hadn’t torn anything in the process.

You had handled it fine up until then. You’d spoken about Minho. You had kept your voice steady, even when your hands had trembled. You had said the hard things—the soft things. The beautiful things. But that one word had been too much. Too fast. Too soon.

Why did you always go too far when it came to him?

And worse—why hadn’t he stopped you?

Why hadn’t he looked away when you’d looked at him?

Why had he stood there, taking it, breathing it, accepting the title like he’d been waiting for it all along?

You had thrown him into the light. You’d stepped outside the one rule you’d both kept tucked beneath your skin since this thing started.

You were so stupid.

You'd undone months of silence in one breath.

And you hated yourself for the part of you that didn't want to take it back.

Because that was the cruelest truth tucked beneath your chagrin. The real reason your stomach twisted and your heart beat so wildly it felt bruised from the inside out that maybe you hadn’t meant to say it. But you had meant it.

And now you couldn’t hide from either.

Did they think you moved on too quickly?

That you had let love grow again in the ruins?

You had wanted so badly for tonight to be about Minho.

About the way he painted loneliness like it was light filtering through stained glass. About the way he had lived—not just the way he had left.

And instead, you had made it about yourself.

About you and Jungkook and the impossible thing that bloomed between the wreckage.

You could already imagine it. The murmurs. Soft as oil and sharp as glass.

“Did you know?”

“So soon?”

“Well, he was her brother-in-law…”

Your hands curled into fists against your knees. You hated that you could hear them before they spoke. Hated even more that a part of you feared they were right. That some version of yourself had always been selfish enough to want to be held again, even if it came in a contours you weren’t supposed to take comfort in.

Even if it wore your husband’s last name.

You pressed your forehead to your palms and breathed in through your nose, sharp and careful.

You didn’t know how longer it would take for your breath to even out or more importantly, how long will it before you find the courage to step inside, face everyone.

Time slowed in the tile-slick silence. You could hear your own heartbeat in your ears, thudding out some rhythm of regret. Beneath the thin fabric of your blouse, sweat cooled over your spine, a second skin of discomfort. Your coat, wrinkled beneath you, smelled faintly of rosewater and nerves.

You stared at the hinge of the stall door like it might open on its own. Like someone would find you here and drag you gently into sense, or kindness, or forgetting.

But no one did.

Not for a while.

Not till there was a knock.

You froze instantly.

Just one. Light. Then another, softer this time, like maybe they realized what this was. A retreat. A rupture even.

You opened your mouth, voice caught in the wires of your throat, about to say—occupied—or sorry—or please go—but the voice that came next was not one you expected.

“Sweetheart?”

You blinked.

Your spine went taut, then loose, as if the air itself sighed through your bones. You pressed your palms flat against the stall wall again, steadying yourself against the name.

Not Jungkook’s. Not your mother’s.

Mrs Jeon. Oh Jesus.

You closed your eyes.

Her voice didn’t come again, but you heard the gentle scuff of her heel shift just once, as if she didn’t need to knock again. As if she already knew you were on the other side, already knew what you were doing in there. As if she had once stood exactly where you were, though not in a gallery bathroom, not in navy silk, but somewhere private and full of guilt of her own.

She didn’t rush you.

Didn’t tap her fingers against the wood or call your name again like some well-meaning warning.

Just asked for confirmation. "Are you in there?"

You lowered your hands slowly, tears unshed but dangerously close, and stared at the small strip of her shadow beneath the stall.

You wanted to bolt.

You wanted to speak.

You wanted to rewind time.

Instead you dared again and answered. "Yes."

Your voice ragged and small cracked through the silence like a thread fraying loose again.

“…Did you hear it?”

There was a long pause.

“Yes.”

Your stomach flipped.

Another breath drew.

“Do you think less of me now?”

It took her a moment. But when she answered, it was without hesitation.

“No.”

She didn’t say it’s okay. She didn’t say I understand. She didn’t reach for platitudes or soft versions of a dejection you both carried like broken mirrors. She simply answered what you’d asked. Somehow that was what made your throat cave in.

“I was twenty-four,” she said, almost conversationally. “When I said something like that."

You blinked.

“It was a dinner party. The first one I attended. I said it too easily. Laughed like it meant nothing. But it did.”

Another pause. Then:

“I threw up in the bathroom afterward. Swore I’d never go to another dinner again.”

You felt your lips twitch—wet with something like a laugh, but broken at the edges.

“Did you go to another one?”

She hummed softly. “Eventually. You do things again. Not because you stop feeling, but because feeling changes. Becomes something you live with, not something you live inside.”

The silence that followed didn’t hurt the same way anymore.

When she spoke again, her voice was nearer to the door, like she had leaned just slightly in.

“Come out when you’re ready, sweetheart. I’m right here.”

Then her heels clicked softly against the tile, retreating with the same grace she always wore.

And for the first time since stepping into the bathroom, your breath moved all the way through your chest.

You weren’t sure how long you sat there after her footsteps faded.

A minute? Five? The kind of silence that doesn't tick, but swells. It filled the corners of the room, the hollow just beneath your ribs. You listened to it. To your breathing. To the subtle shift of water in the pipes behind the wall. You focused on the small things, the mundane ones—just long enough to believe the larger ones might not crush you once you stood.

Eventually, your knees cracked softly as you rose.

Your coat shifted around your hips. Your hands reached for the lock. A breath before the click. Another after. You opened the door slowly, stepped into the stillness of the restroom like someone learning how to inhabit her own skin again.

The light outside the stall was unforgiving, but Mrs. Jeon was not.

She stood a few steps away, hands folded gently in front of her, her shoulders soft with patience. And when her eyes met yours, she didn’t search your face for shame or answers.

She only opened her arms.

And you stepped in like a child too old to be held, but still needing to be.

The smell of her perfume—something floral and faintly spiced—wrapped around you like memory. Her arms didn’t grip. They gathered. And somehow, the simple weight of that embrace unspooled something inside your chest that panic hadn’t quite broken yet.

“I didn’t mean for this to happen,” you whispered. “I didn’t mean any of it. I swear, I was trying so hard to be careful. I know how it must look. I know—”

She pulled back just enough to see your face, her hands still resting on your arms.

“Honey,” she said, voice quiet, eyes impossibly kind, “you’re talking like you’ve committed a crime.”

You flinched. “But I—God, I've been keeping this from you and everyone for so long. That doesn't feel fair."

“People who already knew,” she said gently.

You blinked. “What?”

She gave you a look—dry, fond, just the tiniest bit wry. “Darling, please. You think none of us noticed the way my son looks at you like he’s one second away from his heart bursting?” She squeezed your arms. “You said it. That’s all. You didn’t invent it tonight.”

You bit your lip. Shook your head like it might keep the tears from cresting again. “I thought I heard someone say something. A woman—by the back wall. She said something like… like it didn’t take me long.”

“Oh, that,” Mrs. Jeon said lightly, brushing your hair back as if to say not worth it. “You mean the one in the red shawl with the loud opinions and the knockoff purse?”

You blinked, stunned by the precision.

“She said something awful,” you whispered.

“I’m sure she did,” she said. “Right before Jungkook told her if she so much as muttered another syllable in his girlfriend's direction he’d personally make sure her husband’s antique store on Fifth lost its foot traffic forever.”

Your mouth parted. “He—what?”

Mrs. Jeon gave an elegant shrug, smoothing the sleeve of her jacket. “He was polite about it. But it was... unmistakable.”

You blinked again, and the breath that escaped you was half-laugh, half-sob. “Of course he did.”

“He’s terribly protective,” she said, glancing at you with a smile that was a little too knowing. “Gets that from his mother.”

It took you a moment to laugh—really laugh—but when you did, it broke through like sunlight behind thunderclouds.

“I just… I don’t want people to think I forgot Minho.”

She tilted her head, her hand coming up to smooth your hair behind your ear. “Sweetheart. No one who’s ever known you could think that. Least of all me.”

You looked down, voice low. “I didn’t want tonight to be about me.”

“It wasn’t.”

You met her eyes.

"What about my parents?" you asked quietly, your voice catching on the question like it had been waiting there all along. “Did they look mad? Disappointed?”

Mrs. Jeon gave a soft sigh, the kind that came from years of reading rooms, faces, silences. Her hand smoothed down your arm like she was pressing a wrinkle from cloth, calming you in increments.

“They’re planning to talk to Jungkook,” she said simply, brushing invisible lint from your shoulder. "Having a word with him, to be exact."

Your breath caught. “Oh god.”

Mrs. Jeon gave a small, amused shake of her head. “Don’t worry. I'm sure they're just making sure he treats their daughter right." She paused. “They’re not angry. I promise you that. A little surprised, perhaps. But not angry. No one's angry with you."

She staryed again.“I told her I’d beat her to it,” she said simply. “Can’t have him thinking he’s off the hook just because he's all grown up in a suit."

Your mouth opened, then closed. “You’re serious.”

“As a heart attack.”

You nodded slowly, absorbing it, but your hands still clutched the edge of the sink like they needed something real to tether you.

A silence passed between you, then two. You tried to swallow the knot forming at the base of your throat, but it was impossible to hide the flush rising in your cheeks. Your voice came small, hesitant. “You’re… really okay with this?”

Mrs. Jeon looked at you in that particular way only someone who’d known you through every winter and every spring could. She reached forward and took your hand. Held it firmly.

“You tell me something,” she said, and her voice was quieter now, careful in the way it stepped into the softest parts of you. “Are you happy?”

Your eyes met hers.

The word hovered in your chest, terrified and blooming all at once.

You bit your lip, shoulders curling in, and nodded—small at first, then a little more certain. “Yes,” you whispered.

Mrs. Jeon let out a slow breath, like she’d been waiting to hear it for longer than she let on.

“Then that’s all that matters.”

You looked at her, eyes glassy.

“It was about time,” she said, smoothing a strand of hair away from your face again. “About time you finally put that poor boy out of his misery.”

You groaned in exasperation. "Mom!"

She laughed, not cruelly, but full of something knowing and warm. "What? Not my fault he was so obvious before he even knew how to spell your name properly.”

You smiled again. Free and a little stunned by how light your chest suddenly felt.

“Come on,” she said, smoothing her skirt with one hand and tugging your arm with the other. “Let’s go rescue him from whatever emotional purgatory he’s pacing through in that hallway.”

You let her pull you forward but you don’t get to rescue your boyfriend. You're rather met with a very heartbroken Mira who demands answers and pulls you away before you can even get the chance too.

She stepped back, pulled out her phone, and dialed with the urgency of a 911 operator.

“Hobi?” she said when the line picked up. “Yeah, hi, I know you’re probably making out with your date or something, but this is an emergency.”

You blinked. “What are you doing?”

She gave you a look. “You said you needed a drink, right?”

“…I did, but—”

“Well then.” She turned slightly away. “You’re not going back anywhere tonight until you explain everything to me in the proper setting, which is clearly a bar with sticky menu. Hobi? Yeah. Bring your wallet."

You watched her hang up and start marching toward the coat check like a woman with a mission. And you followed because this was the girl who’d held your hair back and fed you soup in silence the first week after Minho died. The one who knew when to fight, when to joke, and exactly when to say nothing at all.

The bar Mira chose was exactly what you needed and absolutely what she promised: questionable neon signage, vinyl booths held together with decades of duct tape and bad decisions, and a jukebox that alternated between early 2000s heartbreak anthems and ABBA on repeat. The air smelled like lemon-scented cleaner that didn’t quite mask the ghost of spilled beer, and the lighting was so dim you could’ve sworn everyone wore built-in Instagram filters.

You slid into the corner booth, coat still damp from the walk over, cheeks raw from wind and embarrassment, and Mira slid in across from you like she was preparing for a high-stakes interrogation.

Hoseok arrived moments later, hair wind-swept and cheeks pink from the cold, looking far too good to be in a place with this much wallpaper peeling off the walls. He dropped into the booth beside Mira with the chaotic energy of someone who had just abandoned a very flirty date and wasn't over it.

“Boyfriend?" he said in lieu of hello. "Why am I not suprised that Mr firm hands is the boyfriend?"

You gave him a look. “Are you… judging me?”

“Oh no,” he said, lifting his hands in mock surrender. “Not judging. Just trying to understand how I didn’t know this was happening.”

“You were busy dating someone named Seulgi who calls you ‘sunbeam’ and posts about her salads on Instagram,” Mira shot back, flagging down a waiter with a sharp flick of her fingers. “Now respectfully shut up and let her talk.”

You stared down at the menu, even though it was mostly beer stains and crossed-out prices. Mira reached over and gently pulled it from your hands. “You don’t need this. You need fries, something fried, and probably a little tequila.”

“Tequila?” you murmured.

“Don’t argue with the doctor,” Hoseok added, even though Mira was most definitely not a doctor.

The drinks arrived fast—too fast, which meant they were going to taste like regret—and a bowl of over-salted fries landed in the middle of the table with a satisfying clatter.

You sipped your drink slowly, felt the warmth of it bloom at the back of your throat, and only then let yourself exhale.

“It wasn’t—God, it wasn’t like that,” you said, palms out now, defensive and pleading all at once. “I didn’t mean to keep it from you. It just happened. And then it kept happening. And then suddenly it felt like telling anyone would break it. Ruin everything.”

Mira stared at you, all righteous betrayal and mascara-smudged emotion. Her voice cracked just a little when she said, “But me?”

You let out a shaky exhale, your voice breaking into something small, something that couldn’t be smooth no matter how you tried. “I didn’t not trust you. Please don’t think that. I was scared.”

“Scared of me?”

“No,” you said softly, “of saying it out loud. Sorry, it sounds pitiful."

Mira studied you for a long breath. Then, like she’d squeezed all the anger out of her in one long sigh, she deflated a little. She still looked hurt, but her eyes softened.

“I should’ve told you,” you said quietly. “I just didn’t know how.”

She stared at you for a long moment, then slid her glass aside and reached across the table. “I’m still mad,” she said, “but I love you. And I’m glad you didn’t end up in a fling with those dates they used to send you on. Yikes! At least you picked Jungkook. Who clearly worships the ground you walk on.”

“Oh, I bet.” Hoseok added, “don't know him much but oh, I bet."

You winced or flushed but you wouldn't like to use that word. “That’s not—”

“He does,” Mira said, crossing her arms. “He did. Everyone saw it. Except you, apparently. Until now.”

“look,” you said defensively. “I just… I didn’t think it’d become anything.”

Mira made a sound that was equal parts sympathy and exasperation. “Yoongi told me years ago,” she said, picking up a mozzarella stick and pointing it at you like a weapon. “Said something like, ‘Your friend’s maybe as oblivious as she pretends. But my cousin’s a lost cause.’”

"Your husband speaks?" Hoseok snorted into his glass.

That earned him a punch to the side. He groaned so dramtically the five people in the space turned around. You wrapped your fingers around the base of your glass and stared into the fizzing surface. God, you loved them.

“I just didn’t want it to look like I was replacing him,” you murmured, not looking up. “Minho.”

Mira’s teasing stilled. Hoseok’s posture softened.

“You’re not,” Mira said, and her voice was quieter now. “And anyone who thinks you are can choke on their free gallery wine.”

“I’m serious,” you said, twisting the glass between your hands.

Mira tilted her head, one of her hands coming to rest gently over yours. "So am I. I almost dropped my canape when you said it. I even grabbed the old lady next to me.”

"That sounds very serious." Hoseok expressed.

You laughed, reluctantly. “I’m glad,” Mira said, serious again. “Even if I hate that you didn’t tell me, and I will absolutely be holding it over your head until the day we die. I’m glad. Because you’re here. Laughing. Smiling."

You reached for a napkin and dabbed at your eyes. “Thanks.”

And after that—after the napkin had soaked up the last streak of guilt, after Mira’s hand squeezed yours a little tighter, and Hoseok slid a second shot glass in your direction with all the pomp of a coronation—the night began to dissolve in that peculiar, beautiful way nights do when something heavy has been named and nobody lets go.

You drank.

And even that seemed like a understatement.

Not to forget anything but to remember yourself. The version of you that wasn’t shadowed by what you were afraid people would say. The one who dared to call someone hers in a room full of ghosts and memories and didn’t completely fall apart after.

It was baffling.

It was miraculous.

And, God, it was exhausting.

The drinks made everything blur—delightfully at first, then in a way that made your friends exchange glances. You heard Mira say something like “She’s cut off after this one,” and Hoseok immediately counter with “Let her live,” and then you couldn’t hear them anymore because the bar’s speakers erupted into some throaty love song.

Your cheek pressed against Mira’s shoulder for a while, though you couldn’t recall when it landed there. She’d draped your coat over your knees like a blanket and was scrolling through photos on her phone with Hoseok, both of them whisper-laughing, passing the screen back and forth like teenagers.

You looked at them, and something inside you melted—not from the alcohol, not from the bar’s molten heat though that was quiet unbearable too—but from the simple fact of being held.

A feeling you hadn’t known two nights ago, two years back. The universe hadn’t cracked open and swallowed you whole. The chandelier hadn’t fallen from the ceiling. No one had thrown wine at your face or cornered you near the shrimp cocktail with cruel questions about the morality of love.

Instead, the world pitched ever so slightly to the left every time you blinked. The jukebox had moved on to Fleetwood Mac now—some slow, melancholy guitar that wrapped around your temples like gauze. You couldn’t feel your legs. Or maybe you could. They just didn’t want to move.

The fry basket had long since turned cold, and your drink—whatever remained of it—sat abandoned in front of you, a wedge of lime floating like a lifeboat in stormy water. You blinked down at it and considered saying something. Couldn’t remember what.

“Okay,” Mira said, voice low but distinctly not subtle, “that’s enough for her.”

You lifted your head, eyes heavy-lidded. “Wha—? No. M’fine.”

“Sure you are,” she muttered, already pulling her phone out of her coat pocket. “And I’m the queen of France.”

“I am fine.” You sat up straighter, blinked hard at her, as if that proved something. The booth spun gently. “Mmmfine,” you mumbled. “Jus’ warm. Floor’s doing a little… wavy thing.”

Hoseok’s eyebrows shot up. “That’s not the floor. That’s your tequila tangoing with the bad decisions.”

Mira gave him a look before pulling her phone out of her purse.

“Noooo,” you groaned, pawing at her wrist with absolutely no coordination. “Don’t. I’m fine. I’m just… appreciating...”

“You’re appreciating everything too much,” Mira muttered, unlocking her phone with her thumb. “He deserves to know.”

You blinked blearily. “Who?”

She didn’t answer you. Thumbs tapping furiously. You tried to grab her wrist, missed by a margin you weren’t proud of. Just pressed the phone to her ear and stood from the booth, pressing one finger into her other ear to muffle the noise of the bar.

You slumped back, staring at your half-finished drink like it had betrayed you. Hoseok reached over and silently took it away.

“Miraaaa,” you called, dragging her name like a scarf behind you. “She’s being… dramatic. Over…reacting. I could walk home.”

Hoseok said, “you just mistook a fork for your phone.”

You stared at the table. “...Did I?”

He nodded solemnly. “Twice.”

“Jungkook,” Mira said sweetly into the phone now pressed to her ear, “hi. Yeah, she’s—no, no, she’s alright. We’re at that little dive near the station. You know the one with the broken neon cactus sign? Yeah. She’s, um…” A glance at you, hunched like a tragic poet over the tabletop. “She’s had a night.”

You sat up with all the indignation of a drenched cat. “A night?” you hissed.

Mira patted your shoulder. “Don’t worry. He said he’s on his way.”

You blinked, your voice in unison with Hoseok’s. “Already?”

"Already." Mira echoed.

You groaned and buried your face into her shoulder again. “Noooooo.”

“Yes,” she cooed. “Yes, ma’am."

You let out a slow, melodramatic exhale, sliding lower in the booth, your face half-buried in your coat. “This is humiliating.” You didn’t say anything after that. You couldn't and you didn't think you could even hear when the door to the bar creaked open. Not really.

The world had dulled to a low, sluggish hum, softened by liquor and dim light and the weight of your own mortification. But Hoseok glanced up, muttered something under his breath about “the cavalry,” Mira lifted her head, glanced over your shoulder, and then tilted her chin in that way that always meant: look sharp.

Not that you could.

You barely had time to blink before you caught the scent of him.

Jungkook’s cologne always managed to find you first—cedar and lavender, dusk and heat. Then the weight of his presence settled behind you like gravity, and before you could lift your head or find your voice, his shadow stretched over the booth.

His eyes found Mira first. A curt nod. Grateful. Barely spared Hoseok a glance. Hoseok looked almost grateful for it.

“Thanks for calling,” he murmured.

Mira didn’t flinch beneath his seriousness. “Thanks for coming,” she replied simply, standing up and gathering your coat like a reflex.

You stirred at that, blinking up at the blur of black shirt, rolled sleeves, and the soft fall of dark hair just slightly wind-tousled. He looked unfairly beautiful for someone who'd just found you curled into a booth like a regretful blanket. His jaw was set tight, you really hoped it was not anger.

He didn’t glance around. Didn’t blink against the tacky lighting or the low thrum of music. Just made a beeline toward your side of the booth, and for one breathless moment, you thought maybe he’d try to coax you out gently.

Instead, he looked down at you—your ridiculous half-hunched self curled in a coat that had long since become your second skin—and without preamble or ceremony, he scooped you up. Just like that.

Just a sure, practiced ease, like he’d been doing this for lifetimes. Like the world made more sense when you were in his arms and he didn’t have to guess where you were anymore.

You yelped.

He didn't say anything, just adjusted your weight slightly and wrapped his coat tighter around you.

But you felt the slow exhale he gave through his nose.

Not a sigh. Something closer to relief.

He tilted his head to Mira again when she spoke.

Mira’s expression had softened. “Don’t forget to make her eat something. And maybe—y’know—hydration?”

“I’ve got it.”

You were already half asleep against him.

Half awake.

All warmth and clumsy enegry, with your head tucked beneath his chin, the wind nipping at your cheeks while your fingers curled into the front of his shirt like some last-minute apology stitched into cotton. The air outside the bar was bitter enough to bite the inside of your lungs, and it sobered you in slivers—slow, fogged pieces of clarity threading through the haze like dawn slipping between window blinds.

But neither of you said anything.

He didn’t look down at you.

He didn’t speak.

Only the faint sound of his boots hitting pavement filled the space—cadenced, unbothered, maddening in its calm.

You let your cheek fall heavier against his chest, where his heart should’ve been louder. But it wasn’t. It was steady. Frustratingly so.

Your lips brushed against the fabric of his collar. You felt his heartbeat pick up. It felt charged now, as if both of you had bad thoughts trying to form, pushing through the quiet in crooked shapes and half-decisions.

You wanted to say something.

You wanted not to say something.

Your mouth tastes like tequila and fear and bad timing. God, you were all about bad timings today, weren't you?

You turned your head slightly, breath catching on the scent of him. The movement made your stomach sway, but you managed.

You swallowed. "Koo?" You asked in a voice barely above the wind. The nickname slipping out thick and syrupy from your mouth. The sober you would have winced at yourself the second it did.

Good thing you were not.

Before there was an audible response, you heard the sound of his breath catching. Muttering a incohered curse under his breath. "Yes, angel?"

You fiddled with the fabric of his shirt where your fingers rested. “Y-You mad at me?”

He didn't answer at first. His jaw tensed once, twice, the movement as familiar as the sound of your voice laced with slur and shame.

His eyes stayed forward. Watching the parked cars blur past like it mattered more than the conversation pressing in the air between you. Watching the lines in the concrete like they might give him something to focus on other than the pounding of his pulse.

Because your question so slurred and soft and soaked in all the wrong kinds of courage had landed somewhere sharp in him. Not painful, exactly. But startling. Like someone tapping on glass that had long since been sealed shut.

“Are you asking me that because you got drunk?"

"I'm not too drunk-" You mumbled, trying to line your spine straighter and immediately regretting it when your vision swans. "I mean, yeah, okay, I'm a bit- I mean I drank but that's not what I meant.

"What did you mean?" He asked, not unkindly. Voice low, like he already knew but needed you to say it again anyway. Needed to hear it from your own clumsy, slurred lips.

“I meant—fuck.” You groaned, dropping your forehead against his collar. "for what I did. Back there. At the gallery.”

It had rung through him with the violence of something gentle. And that was the worst kind, wasn’t it? The soft truths. The ones you didn’t brace for.

He had spent so long keeping this thing quiet; out of respect, out of fear, out of the twisted need to protect what didn’t yet have a name. He had convinced himself it was better that way. That if he never said it out loud, he couldn’t lose it. That the world couldn’t break what the world didn’t know existed.

And then you’d just carved him into your life liturgy. The only that he'd felt was unhooked.

God, how were you still scared of that? How could you not see it still?

Your hair smelled like lemon shampoo and something warm. sugar, maybe. Your breath still carried the ghost of tequila and lime and the kind of boldness people only conjure up when they don’t think they’ll remember it later.

He felt you pick nervously at the seam of his collar, like maybe that was safer than looking at his face.

You didn’t know that he’d replayed your voice a hundred times already.

Didn’t know that when you said it. His entire body had stilled. Had gone hot, then cold, then weightless.

You didn’t know that it had taken everything in him not to walk across that gallery and kiss you in front of everyone. The urge was so strong, the relief was so overwhelming that it had nearly leveled him.

And still, here you were fearing the thing he had dreamed of.

He finally spoke.

“Angel,” he said, voice low, careful, “I have been yours for a long time. I thought about it. Dreamed of hearing you call me that for longer than I’ll ever admit. Over dinner maybe. But I don't care where it happened."

You went still in his arms.

He tilted his head, just enough to brush his cheek against your hair.

“I’m not mad,” he said again, softer now. "I'm fucking elated." He rasped low, one hand tightening on your thigh, the other cradling your back like a secret. "And I'm just trying not mess it up."

Before you could make more of the latter, his parked car came in view.

The door clicked open, leather and warmth spilling into the night. He placed you into the passenger seat like you were made of glass—though that was nothing new. He always held you like that. As if the ache in you had a physical symmetry, and he was the only one allowed to carry it.

And maybe it was the night, or the alcohol still warm in your veins, or the sheer disbelief that your world hadn’t crumbled after your confession. But you believed him.

You slumped into the seat, curling into the warmth of his coat that he hung around your shoulders, the hem pooled at your lap like a blanket.

“so…you still wanna be my boyfriend?”

He laughed—really laughed this time, soft and low, one hand bracing on the top of the car door. Then he leaned in, pressed a kiss to your temple, and whispered.

“Forever, if you’ll have me.”

When he finally closed the door and climbed into the driver’s side, the cabin filled with that muted, in-between silence. The kind where things weren't okay yet—but maybe on their way.

The heater came on with a soft whir, chasing off the cold from your knees. You barely noticed it, half curled beneath his coat, one boot unbuckled and heel slipping off as your foot tucked up against the seat like you had no intention of looking composed.

Outside, the streetlights blurred through the window. Pale yellow and blinking, like they couldn’t quite keep their eyes open either. The windshield fogged a little from your breath, everything smudging into something dreamlike and quietly unreal.

You didn’t speak for a moment. Just watched the haze of the window, your cheek nestled into the fleece of his coat collar. But your chest was loud. Restless.

Because for all the softness he wrapped you in, for all the peace you should’ve felt, you couldn’t stop thinking about the fact that if tonight hadn’t gone like it did, you might still be pretending you were just shadows again. That this wasn’t real.

Your fingers clenched gently at the hem of his sleeve where it had fallen across your lap. You sat there like that for a while, quiet and too full of all the wrong questions. Only to repeat.

"Koo?"

Your voice, thick with exhaustion and treacly from the weight of everything you’d drunk and everything you hadn’t said.

He hummed, fingers flexing against the steering wheel, gaze flicking toward you but not quite leaving the road yet.

You turned your head slowly toward him, your forehead creasing a little as the warmth from the heater tangled too hot against your cheek. “I… I don’t wanna go home.”

The words were blurry. Fumbling. Like they’d been handed to you in pieces and you hadn’t had time to stitch them back together.

But they were true. That they were.

He didn’t say anything at first.

Just glanced at you from the corner of his eye. A muscle in his jaw ticked, and you watched the careful tension in his knuckles where they wrapped around the wheel.

You bit your lip. “Not—not forever. Just. Y’know. Just not… tonight."

You sniffled once, rubbing at your nose like a child, embarrassed by the confession but too drunk to walk it back. “Please don’t take me home.”

Jungkook exhaled softly. A sound that felt too much like relief for someone being asked for something so heavy.

“Good thing,” he said at last, turning the car down a different street, his voice curling warm and dry like smoke in your ear, “I’ve got a habit of taking you anywhere but.”

You sighed, relaxing deeper into the seat. “You’re not real,” you murmured. “You're… like. A fever dream. With like really... good cologne.”

Jungkook chuckled lowly, eyes flicking to your profile again, this time longer. “Drunk you’s a menace.”

“I'm sensitive,” you corrected, slurring. “Be nice.”

He reached across the console and found your hand without even looking. Threaded his fingers through yours and held it there like it was always meant to be.

“I am,” he said. “Always.”

“Your nose,” you whispered, studying him like you were discovering the shape of him for the first time. “It’s really pretty. Like. Like you paid someone. But you didn’t, did you? That’s just you.”

He bit back a laugh. “That’s just me, angel.”

You poked the tip of it with the gentleness of a feather. “Insulting.”

“Deeply.”

And then you kissed it.

Quick. Clumsy. The faintest press of lips to the slope of bone. Like you were branding him with your approval.

“Drunk,” he murmured, but he didn’t sound annoyed. If anything, he sounded like he was retaining you.

You nestled your face into his neck again, legs wrapped tight around his torso with his palms supporting your weight hanging off of him. Docking you to him the moment he slipped the car into some underground garage and stepped out without a word, circling to your side. Didn’t even wait for permission. Apparently when you flinched with a tiny sound, then whined when your limbs refused to cooperate was reason enough. You were up in his arms again before the cold could touch your ankles, the world tilting briefly before settling against his chest. You had blinked, dazed, then turned your face upward. “Warm,” you replied.

Jungkook made a noise that was halfway between a laugh and a sigh, the kind of sound someone makes when they’re trying not to fall even deeper in love than they already have.

You hummed a note of agreement, then leaned forward and pecked the tip of his nose again like it was the most natural thing in the world. “Boop.”

“Jesus Christ,” he muttered, and kept walking, a little faster now.

The lobby was sleek and quiet, lit low with ambient light that glittered off the marble floor. A sleepy doorman nodded as Jungkook passed. You didn’t even ask where you were until the elevator opened directly into a hallway with only one door, black, modern, heavy. You blinked as he shifted you gently in his arms and pressed the keypad. The soft chime of the lock sliding open echoed too loudly in your ears.

“Where…” You blinked again as he nudged the door open with his shoulder. “Where are we?” This wasn’t your apartment. This wasn’t his parent's place. Did'nt exactly look like a hotel or if it was it was a really expensive one. This wasn’t anything you knew.

He set you down slowly—like a ribbon being untied—and turned on the light with a quiet flick of his fingers. Warm, dim lighting spilled into the room, softening everything to velvet edges. The floor beneath your boots was heated tile. The couch in the center of the room was oversized, draped in soft gray throws. There were no bright colors. No screaming art. Just low lines of furniture, oak and ash tones, clean details that whispered instead of shouted. You could see hints of habit: a stack of books with bookmarks poking out crookedly near the couch. A worn mug sitting on the edge of a console table. A leather jacket flung across a chair like it belonged there. Which it probably did.

There was a piano by the floor-to-ceiling windows.

Of course there was a piano.

You stood still, swaying gently in your own boots, the air too warm against your skin now after the chill of the street. You stared across the space with wide eyes, lips parted, trying to absorb the fact that you’d never stepped foot in this place, and yet… there was something terribly intimate about it. About all of it.

It looked like somewhere important people lived. Or people who wanted to be left alone.

You moved forward carefully, shrugging out of his coat and draping it over the arm of the couch like you were afraid to wrinkle anything. The floors were silent beneath your boots, and the air had the clean scent of lemon balm and something else you couldn’t name something earthy. Sage, maybe.

You turned toward the open kitchen across the loft just in time to catch the warm flick of the fridge light opening. Jungkook stood there sockedfeet now, sleeves still rolled, a glass in one hand and the other pushing aside a cabinet door.

And your eyes stuttered. Not at him. (You’d long since gotten used to the way he looked like sin and salvation in dim light.)

But at the contents of the cabinet. You swear you just got a peak of dozens of tea boxes. Not just one brand or two—but everything from supermarket bags to specialty tins, chamomile to lavender to citrus blends. Lined like he’d been collecting them, like someone who maybe didn’t even drink tea but wanted to be prepared in case someone who did ever stayed the night.

He poured the water.

Set the glass down.

And only then turned to you.

You were still staring.

His brow lifted slightly, but he didn’t speak.

You felt suddenly too sober. Or maybe just drunk in a different way now. “What… is this place?”

Jungkook stilled.

It was a half-second pause small, almost imperceptible but you caught it. The way his hands slowed, the way his eyes darted once toward the far window before coming back to you.

He wiped his palm on a dish towel, came around the counter, and set the glass gently in your hands. You took it, grateful for something to focus on. It was cool and smooth and anchored you just enough.

"it’s… it’s really…” You looked around again. “Expensive-looking.”

Jungkook ran a hand through his hair, fingers catching in the strands at the back then the same hand reached out to steady your elbows like he didn’t trust you not to float away. His voice, when it came, was low. Soft in that Jungkook way like gravel dragged through silk.

“I bought it,” he said. “Next day after the night at Kim's."

Your brows pulled together slowly.

“It was impulsive,” he admitted. “Probably stupid. But I couldn’t sleep. I felt like I needed to make space for something that might never happen." He needed to make space for the possibility of you. Because who was Jeon Jungkook if not the most hopless of case when it comes to you.

You opened your mouth, but nothing came out.

“I didn’t know if I’d ever get to bring you here,” he said, eyes not quite meeting yours. “But I bought it anyway.”

You blinked slowly, piecing the words together. Your fingers lifted to press against your lips, as if trying to feel the echo of what you’d confessed there.

“This is yours?” you asked, like it still didn’t quite make sense.

He only said the simplest of truths. "It can be ours."

It felt too big for the room and too small at the same time.

“ours?” you repeated, tasting it.

He gave you a crooked smile, faint and self-conscious. “Well. That was the hope.”

Your heart tripped somewhere in your chest.

You looked around again, slower this time. Noticed the wine glasses above the sink, still drying. A photo frame faced down on the side table like it hadn’t been ready to be displayed yet. A stack of takeout menus in the corner, one with a smudge of sauce on it. A blanket draped over the back of the couch, creased like someone had slept there recently.

“Have you… stayed here?”

He nodded once. “Sometimes. When I needed to breathe." When he wanted to imagine you in here.

He didn't plan to tell you that part.

The truth of how often he came here, and you were in every corner of it.

He watched you now, standing there in the soft yellow glow of pendant lights, barefoot on the tile with your hair a little wild, your eyes flicking from one piece of furniture to the next like they were giving away secrets. And Jungkook—God, Jungkook had never known what it meant to wrench quietly until he imagined you here for the first time. Until he watched you exist in a space he had once only filled with feasibility.

He had picked that couch because it looked like it could hold two people who didn't mind tangling legs. Had stood in the kitchen and wondered if you'd drink your coffee by the window. Had stared at the second drawer by the bathroom sink and thought, that’s where she could keep her earrings.

He didn’t say any of that.

Didn’t confess the way he’d lain on that very couch more than once, staring at the ceiling and trying to imagine what your laugh would sound like bouncing off these walls.

He hadn’t wanted to jinx it. But he’d wanted it.

He still did.

“Were you gonna tell me? About this place?”

He smiled a little—wry, sheepish. “Eventually.”

“Why wait?”

“Because,” he said, stepping closer, “I didn’t want to give you something you didn’t ask for. Not unless you were ready to want it, too. Was'nt that right?"

Then, without meaning to, you took a small step forward and wrapped your arms around his waist. Clung. He didn’t hesitate. His arms were around you in a second. One hand cupped the back of your head, the other pressing gently against your spine.

You buried your face into the soft black cotton of his shirt. “I feel… dizzy.”

“From the alcohol?” he asked, a barely restrained urgency in his voice.

“No.” You turned your cheek against him. "This is just..really dreamy. Yeah. Really dreamy."

He heaved out a breath and started started rocking you back and forth against him in an missable motion. "Sure, angel? You like it?" He asked for confirmation. He didn't bother hiding his need for reassurance in front of you. And you don't mind giving him so. You nod with confidence.

He huffs a soft chuckle. "You haven't seen the half of it. Maybe you won't like the colors. We can change them if that's what you'd like. Add plants." His voice spilled low against the crown of your head. An offering disguised as a list of design choices. But you knew what he meant. You heard it tucked between every carefully placed word.

Let’s make a life here.

Let’s try. Together.

Your face pressed to the slope of his chest, listening to his heartbeat carry the words he didn’t yet say aloud. Your arms looped tighter around his waist, fingers bunching the back of his shirt like you might fall through the floor otherwise.

"We can do whatever we want." he murmured, then exhaled like something eased in him. "All the little, big things. Do you ever wanna get a pet?"

You bobbed your head with far too much enthusiasm. "Absolutely! We could get a dobermoon! You once said you always wanted that!"

"I did." He smiled gently.

Your mouth twitched, and you didn’t mean to smile—but you did. It bloomed slow and sleepy across your face, the kind of smile that couldn’t be helped. “And what else?”

He was still swaying you—slow, steady movements, his hands warm at the small of your back. It took you a moment to realize what he was doing, what the motion even was. You blinked, nose brushing the side of his neck. “Wait,” you whispered, a soft snort cracking loose. “What are you doing?”

Jungkook tilted his head down, eyes meeting yours, glittering a little under the golden pendant light. “I just realized,” he said, and his voice was so low, so unbearably soft, you almost didn’t catch it, “I never got to dance with you at your wedding.”

You blinked, cheeks flushed, eyes bright with that dizzy kind of drunk only heartbreak and hope could cause. “You left before the music started.” You pouted against his chest.

“I know.” His hand found hers. “Can I have one now?”

You burst out laughing, giddy and golden. The thought of so that's how your laugh sounds bounching around the walls came paired with If he could have bathe in the sound of it he would for the rest of his life. “There’s no music.”

He tilted his head. “There’s you.” With a theatrical sigh, you let him slip all around you. It was unsteady, like gravity had forgotten you tonight, yet just like gravity; the way you fit against was a contradiction. All too well. All too comforting.

He moved you slowly, in wide, meandering arcs, like your bodies weren’t bound to tempo or beat, just to each other. You stepped on his toes once. Maybe twice. Your sock slipped on the smooth floor and you cursed under your breath. He caught you, hands tightening with the kind of tenderness that made you want to cry.

“Oops,” you muttered.

“You're Graceful,” he murmured, voice fond.

“You love it,” you countered.

“I do.”

He twirled you then. Not properly God, no, but with that not so perfect grin that made your ribs ache and your stomach flip. You stumbled a bit, laughing into the fabric of his shirt, and he caught you again like he’d been born to. You buried your face in his shoulder. The air around you felt velvet-rich, the heat of his skin, the soft whirr of the heater, the scent of coffee grounds faint from the sink and your perfume still lingering on his collar. The world felt like something you could carry in your palm tonight.

Your cheek pressed right above his heart, where it thudded steady, solid, yours.

Your cheek pressed on right above his heart. “We’re not very good at this,”

“I don’t care,” he murmured into your hair.

You sighed. “My feet hurt.”

“We can stop,” he offered, easing to a gentle halt.

“Mhm." You leaned back to look at him, blinking up through your lashes, voice cotton-soft. You pressed your hand against it absentmindedly, right over the steady beat of his heart, fingers splayed like you could read it in Braille.

He watched you.

Watched the curve of your mouth. The warm glassiness in your eyes. The way your thumb moved without rhythm against his shirt.

You sighed out a thought. “Thank you,” you said.

He tilted his head, brushing a piece of your hair back behind your ear. “For what?”

“For this.” You squinted a little, like you were trying to remember something and only barely catching the edge of it. “For everything. I love you."

You hadn’t even flinched when you said it. You were smiling. Loose-limbed and lidded and not the least bit rattled, still swaying in place like the words had meant nothing more than a sweet note scribbled in a thank-you card.

He couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe for a second. Could only feel the way his heart kicked against his ribs so hard he thought maybe you could hear it. hear the sound of it clawing toward your name.

His mouth opened slightly, but no sound from that came. The function of his body when he was around you, especially, this you was beyond him.

You just looked at him, lashes heavy, lips curved soft. “Hmm?”

“What did you just say?” he asked, voice rough around the edges.

You blinked. Tilted your head. “Thank you?”

“No, not that—fuck, angel." A deep chuckle rumbled out of chest. "Fuck."

But you were already pressing your cheek back to his chest, humming something tuneless, eyes drifting shut.

He swallowed hard. Tugged you closer to him and pressed his lips hard against your head. "I love you too."

Because what had once started with a love so rooted will end with a love that will survive an eternity.

It would always end in "I love yous."

SERIES TAGLIST: @ashslight @wannaghostbts @amatun28 @tteokbokibyjk @kelsyx33 @rexana19

[dumpywrites]

Knocked Out - Jeon Jungkook

Prompt: Watching a concert is fun, until you get knocked out by the idol's mic.

Prompt request: HERE

Genre/tags: Fluff, idol Jungkook, fan reader, drabble-ish, they have language barrier

Pairing: Jungkook x reader

a/n: After watching "Are you sure?!" I can't help but to make this. Jungkook trying to talk in english is just the most precious :')

The long awaited 2025 reunion. It was finally time to attend your dream concert. You had been saving enough money and the time was now for you to see BTS live right before your eyes. 

The first time seeing your favorite group had to be special. You were dressed up in light purple colored tee and a frilly white bottoms. You even had some cute Tata and Cooky plush charms hanging on your bag. You didn’t spend that huge stack of front line festival just to not look fun and eye catching. Even though your friend kept telling you that dolling up wouldn’t get your bias to notice you, you couldn’t care any less. Today was not the day to pretend and being a pick-me trying to not act like you were not an army. 

The gates were finally open, waiting for hours and not buying that one cool looking shoes you saw at the mall finally paid off. Your heart was racing at the view of the stage so up and close to you. Just imagining finally seeing seven of them in 3D was making you go crazy. Pun intended. 

The concert went fantastically great. You were singing, jumping, and dancing along to each and every song they performed. You cried during Spring Day and shouted your lungs out during Fire. Your friend was right though, it was almost their last song and so far, you had zero major interactions besides them waving to your direction, which could be directed to you and many people in your area. 

Dynamite was playing and the show had reached its final list, an encore. Confetti was everywhere, the members could be seen having fun, teasing each other. Jimin and Hobi were having a dance off, while Taehyung and Suga hyped them up from behind. You could see RM still rapping his verse, while Jin was busy taking fans’ phones to give them selfies. 

Then there came Jungkook, he somehow was running in full speed to the front of the stage, before jumping down to greet the fans bellow. Everyone was going mad, trying to get his attention. At this point, you were squeezed since he was in fact, right in front of you, but you were too busy getting lost in his eyes. You still could not believe this man was real and he was performing this close to you. 

You had always knew that Jungkook was a strong guy. You had watched enough of his random lives to know that the man loved working out. That was why you were not so surprised that you got knocked out when he wanted to point his mic to the crowd’s direction, but instead, accidentally battered you right in your forehead.

The next thing was quite a blur. You recalled seeing Jungkook’s eyes went even bigger than it already was, which you did not know was even possible, and then everyone around you shouting, the world was spinning before it faded to black. 

You expected to wake up in your house, but instead, you woke up to an all white room, obviously a hospital. You could see your friend running to your direction with a worried expression, as soon as she saw you getting your consciousness back. 

“Oh my god! How are you feeling?! Anything hurt? How’s your head? Can you remember me???” 

“Girl, relax…” You chuckled. “I’m fine, just a bit dizzy. What happened though?”

“Jungkook knocked you out cold with his mic.” She couldn’t hide the grin on her face. “I’d say you’re lucky, but on second thought, maybe not.” 

“Geez…” You held your head with your palm. “How did I get here?”

“You were immediately taken to hospital. One of the staff told me that Jungkook insisted this, because apparently, the management originally only wanted you to get checked by their medic team.” She said with admiration in her face. “That’s so kind of him, don’t you think?”

“I guess…” You couldn’t help but to feel giddy, even though you knew it was normal for him to react that way considering the situation. “I’m glad it happened during encore though, if not I would’ve ruined the show.” 

Your friend chuckled. “I’m just glad you’re okay. I’ll let the doctor know, wait just for a second…”

Not long after your friend left the room, you could hear a knocking sound from the door. Thinking it was your friend and the doctor, you quickly told them to come in. 

Lo and behold, Jeon Jungkook himself. 

To say you were shocked would be such an understatement. Were you dreaming? Maybe he hit your head too hard and made you hallucinating. Also, that white t-shirt was definitely emphasizing his wide shoulders. You could be biased but he looked way way way better in his casual attire.

“H-Hi!” 

Lord have mercy the man just spoke. 

“Am I dreaming???” You impulsively said, still looking at him in disbelief. 

Jungkook chuckled, shaking his head. “No.”

He fidgeted his fingers together, before moving closer to your bed, making sure to have an appropriate distance between the two of you. “I was gonna ask for translator, but it don’t feel right… I want to uh… apologize alone.”

Your heart melted at how sincere he looked. Despite the slight language barrier, he still tried his best. 

“It’s okay, I forgive you.”

“But I hit you very hard…” He looked down. “That’s not okay.”

“It was an accident.” You smiled. 

“Not okay.” He shook his head. “I’m really sorry!” 

He bowed his head to you. Knowing a bit about Korean culture, you knew what a ninety degrees bow was and what it meant. 

“Jungkook! It’s fine!” 

He lifted his head and sighed. “But you’re like this…” 

“I am perfectly fine right now.” You giggled. Funny how you could feel the nervousness slowly getting lifted.

He suddenly offered you his hand. You froze for a second, just processing on why you could see your idol’s hands near you let alone he himself offering it to you. 

“Jeon Jeongguk.” 

Oh? “No offense, but I already know. I’m quite literally your fan.” You giggled, but then offered your hand back for a handshake, after mentioning your name to him. 

He laughed. Honestly, what a sight. You almost wished to get hospitalized forever if that meant this view being a regular occurring thing. 

“Thank you for coming, you really don’t have to.” You said after he let go of your hand. “I might never get the chance again, so I’m just gonna say this now. Thank you for existing, you really don’t know the impact of you and your music in my life. BTS basically helped me get through the worst moments of my life, and to that I’m forever grateful…”

“I’m glad.” He flashed you a genuine smile. 

You knew the language made him reply in such short sentence, but he didn’t need to say more as his eyes and smile could already tell you how happy he looked hearing your words. 

“I have a request.” You suddenly said. 

He tilted his head at you and voiced a small “huh”. 

“Can I hold your hand?” You quickly reasoned as soon as the sentence left your mouth. “I’m not taking advantage of the situation, I swear! It’s just… your hands are shaking.” You looked at him with worry. 

“Oh!” He nervously laughed. “Sure, you can.”

Although anxious, you carefully placed your hand above his, patting it softly. He gave you a smile again before surprising you by holding your hand. You started wondering what country did you safe in your past life for this to happen. 

“Better?” Obviously, you were blushing like crazy at this point. 

He nodded. “Yup.” 

“Alright.” As much as you didn’t want to, you then withdrew your hand. 

“I have to go now, staff is waiting…”

“Right.” You quickly replied. “Send them my thanks too, okay?”

He nodded vigorously, before giving you a salute, which made you laugh. 

Although sad, you had to see him exited the door. You were lucky enough anyway for that to even happened. 

Just a few minutes later, your friend finally came back with the doctor. You get checked, and after they declared you healthy, you were good to go. You didn’t leave the room before rubbing in your friend’s face on how unlucky of her that Jungkook himself just showed up while she was away. She got you back with mentioning the blue-ish bump on your forehead, and now you could never erase it from your memory that Jungkook had to see you like that. 

You were ready to leave the hospital before someone stopped you at the door. 

“I was told to give this to you.” A nurse handed you a piece of folded paper, before politely bowing her head and left. 

The shock you felt upon reading the note almost sent you back to the hospital room. 

Let’s keep in touch! Please? :)

—Jungkook <3

Both of you and your friend shriek in excitement, especially after seeing the small phone number written on the down corner of the paper. It was confirmed. You had officially used up all your luck for the rest of the year. Maybe five or ten because how unreal this was. 

It was a beginning of something exciting and you couldn’t wait to see what was stored for you in this journey. 

Thank you for reading! 💜💜💜

[divinelyparkjimin]

— one of your girls [m] | jjk.

◦ summary ↠ when a fuckboy finds himself alone in a kitchen with you, it seems nothing innocent could ever come out of it.

◦ pairing ↠ jungkook x reader

◦ word count ↠ 3k

◦ genre ↠ smut

◦ content warning(s) ↠ fuckboy!jungkook, almost pwp, dom! jungkook, sub!reader, suggestive/explicit content, cream-pie, dirty talk, praise kink, size kink, degradation, penetrative sex, ejaculation, f. and m. orgasm, spanking, rough sex

a/n: i’ve returned yet again :D

masterlist

The night air was crisp as you and your friend, Mina, made your way toward the house towering before you. A mansion, almost, yet somehow the perfect place for a little unsupervised fun. You could hear a distant thump of bass, guiding you to the entrance of the place.

Mina’s boyfriend, Jimin, was a major party freak and was hosting a party — one that you’d be attending with her.

As you reached the front door, Mina squeezed your hand, her eyes twinkling with excitement.

“Are you ready for some fun? Jimin said this one was going to be wild.”

You smiled and nodded before the muffled sounds of laughter and chatter spilled out into the streets with the abrupt opening of the front door. Jimin greeted you both with a wide grin. He pulled Mina into a hug and quick kiss, before turning to you.

“Glad you could make it! Come on in, grab a drink, and enjoy.”

You stepped inside, the warmth and energy of the party enveloping you. The living room was packed with people, a mix of laughter and music creating an intoxicating atmosphere. You could see clusters of friends chatting, a group dancing in the corner, and others getting their early shots in.

“Hey, where’s Jungkook? Wasn’t he supposed to be coming tonight?” Mina nudged her boyfriend as if to signal something.

“Just the usual.” Jimin pointed towards the living room. You followed his finger to see Jungkook sprawled out on the couch, making out with some girl, his hand casually resting on her thigh. You quickly turned away, feeling like you were intruding on an intimate moment.

“You know, that could be you one day.” Mina teased, playfully. You roll your eyes but can't deny the rush of excitement at the thought. You've told her about your attraction to Jungkook, though you wouldn't call it a crush. It's pure, unadulterated lust. The man exuded sex, from the way he walked to the way he ran his fingers through his hair. Even the way he drank a glass of water seemed intentionally seductive.

“Yeah right,” you said. “Besides, we’ve barely spoken. It would be weird.”

“Come on, I could hook you up. Just say the word,” your best friend replied, shooting a wink at you. You shook your head, though the thought was tempting. Your interactions with Jungkook had been minimal, limited to polite small talk at best. Yet you still found yourself gravitating toward his energy.

Later in the evening, you found yourself alone in the kitchen, pouring yourself a drink. The party was in full swing, and you decided to take a moment to collect your thoughts. As you sipped your drink, you felt a presence behind you. Turning around, you saw Jungkook standing there, his dark eyes fixed on you with an intensity that made your heart race.

“Mind if I join you?” his deep voice shocked you out of your thoughts. You found yourself biting your lip as his figure approached you, quickly bringing yourself to nod. He moved closer, the proximity making the air feel charged. He leaned against the counter, his gaze never leaving yours.

“Having a good time?” you asked, unsure of how you were meant to start a conversation with the dude you’ve been lusting over all night.

“I was, but I think it just got better.” Jungkook’s lips curled into a smirk, his eyes lowering down to your body. You felt your cheeks flush, a mixture of embarrassment and excitement. He took a step closer and his body was almost brushing against yours.

“You know, I’ve seen you around at these parties. We never really got to talk.” Jungkook started again.

“Yeah, I guess we’re always just… around.” you replied, licking your lips. Jungkook’s hand creeped up your side as his fingertips lightly trailed down the skin of your arm. The slight touch sent tingles through your body, making you throb beneath your panties.

“We should change that though, don’t you think? I’ve been wanting to get to know you a little better.” With his gaze piercing into your being, you suddenly averted your eyes. When your eyes returned to him, you found yourself ogling his built figure. His arms were decorated with a sleeve of tattoos, the art perfectly enhancing his shape. It wasn’t long before your eyes traveled even lower to see a bulge in his pants. Your eyes widened slightly as you took a deep breath at the sight.

“Looks pretty, doesn’t it?” he caught you staring, but didn’t seem to mind it. If anything, his luring stare seemed to be pulling you in even more. “Why don’t you be a good girl and touch it for me, Y/N?”

You were caught off guard by the request, but couldn’t help but want to give in.

“R-Right here?” you looked around at the empty kitchen the two of you were standing in. The air was tense. You felt like you could almost smell how aroused you were. Despite the sound of music booming in the background, it felt like you two were the only ones there.

Jungkook pulled you from your thoughts by gently lifting your chin with his fingers, guiding your gaze back to him. His hand then lowered to wrap around yours, the weight of your hand disappearing as he lifted it, guiding it towards his pulsating lower region.

The room somehow felt still and silent, despite the multitude of noise present beyond the thin walls of the kitchen. You could hear and feel his warm breaths on your skin.

Your eyes looked back up to meet his, before taking control of your hand. You pressed your hand against the length in his pants, cupping it to better feel its girth. Your hand trailed up and down the cloth surrounding his crotch to feel its entirety, feeling it twitch against your palm.

It was big.

A low groan escaped his mouth as you applied more pressure, his eyes locked onto your every movement. You began to inch lower down his crotch, but were abruptly interrupted by the loud voices of a couple of people approaching the kitchen. Both of you, startled, scrambled to look normal.

"Quick," he whispered urgently, his voice still husky with desire.

You hastily adjusted yourself and tried to calm your racing heart. The voices grew louder, and just as the door swung open, you both managed to compose yourselves, leaning casually against the counter as if nothing had happened.

You turned to the door to see Jimin bursting in with a bottle of soju in one hand and a silly grin on his face, definitely a few too many drinks in. Mina followed closely behind him, her hands placed on each of his shoulders as if to direct him during the sloppy state he was in.

"Hey Kook, I was just looking for you!” Jimin exclaimed, clearly oblivious to the tension that had filled the room moments before. Mina looked at you with an eyebrow raised, a smile creeping up at her lips. “What have you two been up to in here?” Jimin continued, nearly tripping as he stepped through the doorway.

"I was just getting a drink and ran into Jungkook here.” you replied, forcing a smile and hoping they wouldn't notice the flush on your cheeks or the slight tremor in your hands. “So yeah, we’ve just been… talking.”

"Well, we're about to play some beer pong, so you should come join unless you're off to go have some orgy or whatever else you do," Jimin said, crossing his arms as if to wait for Jungkook to come.

Jungkook turned to you, his voice still carrying a trace of that earlier huskiness as he said softly, "I'll see you around," before following his friend out of the kitchen. You reconnected with your best friend Mina, who seemed to have the “tell-me-everything” eyes.

You waited for the boys to leave before spilling everything to her.

A couple days later, you decided to hang out with Mina and Jimin at your house. The plan was simple: bake cookies and watch a movie together.

Mina arrived first, her arms laden with shopping bags. "I got everything we need," she announced, setting the bags down with a flourish.

"Where's Jimin?" you asked, as you began unpacking the ingredients.

"He'll be here later," she replied with a casual wave of her hand.

You nodded, and the two of you set to work, chatting and laughing as you mixed and measured. Just as you were rolling the cookie dough into balls, the doorbell rang. You wiped your hands on a towel and hurried to answer it, surprised to find both Jimin and Jungkook standing there.

"Hey—uh, come on in," you said, eyes immediately darting to Jungkook’s figure in the doorway. He had a slight upturn of his lips as you stepped aside to let them pass.

As you walked back to the kitchen, you shot Mina a questioning look and mouthed, "What is he doing here?"

Mina just shrugged and grinned.

The two guys set bottles of soju on the table, and soon the room was filled with their laughter and banter. Mina leaned closer to you. "I figured you two wouldn't get to see each other much unless I butted in, so I brought him here for you," she whispered, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

Eventually, Mina clapped her hands together dramatically. "Oh no, I forgot the ice cream at the store. Babe, could you come with me to get it?" Her eyes turned to Jimin.

Jimin agreed, and Mina turned to you with a wink, yet again. "You two can prepare everything without us."

The thought of being alone with Jungkook sent a thrill through you. He caught your eye and smiled as Mina and Jimin left, their footsteps echoing down the hallway. You heard the front door slam shut, allowing the feelings of tension to fill the room.

Jungkook moved closer to the counter where you were working, his presence warm and reassuring. "Need any help?" he asked, his resonant voice echoing against the walls of the now empty kitchen.

"Sure," you replied, handing him a ball of cookie dough through shaky hands. "You can start rolling these."

The two of you worked side by side, the silence comfortable yet charged with unspoken words. The scent of vanilla and chocolate filled the air, mingling with the warmth of the oven and the sound of your quiet breaths.

After a few moments, the two of you were practically done rolling and placing the now-rounded cookie dough pieces onto the baking tray. You picked the metal tray into your hands and slipped it into the oven before shutting it closed.

It wasn’t long before Jungkook broke the silence. "About the other night," he began, his tone serious and eyes intense. “We never really got to finish what we started, huh?” As he spoke, he stepped closer and closer, the space between you diminishing by the second.

Your heart skipped a beat at his words, the memory of the moments between the two of you flooding back with startling clarity. You swallowed hard, searching for the right words to respond, unsure of where this conversation might lead.

“I’ve been wanting to play with you,” he said, a hint of desire lacing his words. His eyes sparkled with a mischievous glint as he leaned in closer, his breath warm against your skin. Your breaths matched his, growing heavier with anticipation as he drew nearer. “How’s that sound?”

“I-I think that sounds amazing,” you uttered, your voice barely a whisper, your nerves tingling with excitement. Jungkook's large hand cupped the side of your face, his touch sending shivers down your spine as he lifted your face to meet his.

As your lips met in a heated kiss, passion ignited between you, consuming every thought and sensation. His tongue danced with yours, each movement sending waves of pleasure through your body. Lost in the moment, you melted into his embrace, your hands instinctively tangling in his hair.

His touch became bolder, his hands exploring every inch of your skin with a hungry fervor. You gasped as his fingers trailed lower, grazing your inner thigh before teasingly moving closer to your center. With a sudden boldness, he pulled the band of your pants, sending a thrill of anticipation coursing through you. As his fingers slid across your clit, a sharp gasp escaped your lips, mingling with the heat of the moment. His movements were slow at first, but began to quicken as your moans increased in volume.

He seemed to be just missing your clit, as if he was intentionally circling around it. You bit down on your bottom lip as short, high-pitched whimpers spilled forth from your mouth, as if begging for him to touch you where you needed him.

“We’re getting needy now, I see,” Jungkook said with a seductive tone as his pace slowed down, as if to tease you even more. “Where do you need me, Y/N?” You could detect the smirk on Jungkook's lips, revealing his evident enjoyment as he watched you sink deeper into the state of desperation he'd induced.

“I-I need you to fucking rub my clit, p-please!” Your facial expressions contorted to match the sensations of ecstasy that surged through your body. You eagerly thrusted your hips, pressing your pounding heat against his fingers, seeking to amplify the pleasure.

“Fuck, keep doing that, Y/N.” He muttered between kisses, the encouragement merely heightening your arousal. “You like using my fingers to please yourself, don’t you, dirty whore?” You nodded enthusiastically. You could feel yourself reaching your climax as his pace increased.

“I-I’m gonna come!” You yelped before releasing, gripping tighter onto Jungkook’s figure. You let out a deep breath and were left panting from the overwhelming collection of feelings.

“God, you’re soaked,” Jungkook growled, pulling his fingers from your pants. Your wetness was apparent on his fingers, which were now held up to your face, glossed with your arousal. “See how tasty you are for me.” Your lips closed around Jungkook’s fingers as they entered your mouth, allowing the taste of your own secretion to melt onto your tongue.

He removed his fingers from your mouth, quickly lifting off his shirt to reveal his toned figure. Your eyes widened, surprised by the quality of his build. You knew he had a good body, but you’d never gotten the chance to see it for yourself, only heard things through what other girls have said about it.

“Strip.” he ordered, his voice carrying a distinct authority. Without hesitation, you complied, your hands reaching for the hem of your top and pulling it over your head. With no bra to hinder them, your breasts spilled forth, a sight that clearly pleased Jungkook. As you discarded your bottoms and panties, he removed his pants. He was left in his boxers, but you could see the outline of his manhood peeking through. You swallowed, unable to conceal your excitement. With a swift motion, he removed his gray boxers, allowing his thick, hard member to spring out.

It was the perfect size—not too big, not too small. It had a slight curve, and you were already imagining what it would feel like inside you.

"Your cock looks..." you licked your lips, "...really nice."

"Bend over," he commanded once more, his eyes directing you to the counter in front of you. You obeyed, feeling the cold surface against your skin as you leaned over. Jungkook swiftly positioned himself behind you, his hands gripping your waist firmly. His tip teased along your folds, slipping and sliding before finally plunging into your wet heat. You moaned loudly at the sudden penetration, feeling yourself clench tightly around his length.

"Fuck, you look so good like this," he groaned, his head falling back in delight. He withdrew slowly before thrusting back in, each movement growing rougher yet maintaining a deliberate pace. With every plunge into your depths, you couldn't help but let out a series of involuntary sounds.

"F-Faster,” you whined, desperate to feel more of him inside you. He complied, increasing his speed and force, pounding into you with a relentless rhythm. The intensity left you breathless, your mind unable to form a coherent thought as waves of pleasure washed over you.

“You take my cock like a filthy slut, don’t you?” His hand met your ass repeatedly, each spank eliciting a wince of pain that mixed with the pleasure coursing through you. You hummed in response, basking in the feeling that consumed your body.

He eventually decided to switch positions, flipping you over into missionary. Your hands propped you up from behind as his hands wrapped around your thighs. "Now I can see that pretty face of yours as I rail the fuck out of you." He resumed thrusting, his eyes fixated on your breasts as they jiggled with each powerful movement. The sight fueled his excitement even further.

One of his hands reached up to play with your tits, his fingers pinching and flicking your nipples. The soft, ticklish sensation added another layer of pleasure, intensifying the level of your already high arousal.

With each subsequent thrust, you found yourself growing closer to your climax yet again. "I-I’m close," you stammered.

"Fuck, me too. Cum with me, Y/N." You allowed your body to be directed by him, your release lingering at the brink of your core before unleashing itself. Simultaneously, Jungkook’s cock exploded into your crevice, the warm fluids mixing with your own.

"Ah, that felt so good," you said in relief as you got up and composed yourself. He helped you off the counter, assisting you in gathering your clothes and cleaning up.

As you finished dressing, Jungkook smirked. "We should do this more often," he teased, giving you a playful wink just as the doorbell rang. Your head shot up, startled by the sudden arrival of your friends

You shared a knowing look and a quick kiss before heading to the door. Opening it, you greeted Jimin and Mina, who walked in with a few shopping bags in hand.

"Hey, did we miss anything exciting?" Jimin asked with a grin.

You and Jungkook exchanged a secretive smile. "Oh, nothing much," Jungkook replied casually. "Just a bit of… redecorating."

And with that, you welcomed your friends inside, feeling a lingering thrill from your recent escapade.

a/n: unedited again but enjoy!

masterlist

[mrs-monaghan]

Tbh I'm a jikooker, but I find it incredibly difficult to fit a healthy long-term relationship into the same timeline as all of jimin's solo work. It's not the pronouns or taking one lyric very literally, its the entire thing, plus comments from him and his producers. To me, you'd have to do some serious olympic level mental gymnastics to make that make sense. I don't doubt that jikook have a special bond, I've definitely seen things between them that definitely look like sexual attraction to me and things that surpass friendship boundaries, but I can't in good faith say that they're together in some official long-term way if I actually listen to jimin and his work.

I've seen some jikookers think they broke up for a while, but I have to question if those people have ever been through a breakup because the little bit of distance/separation/awkwardness we did see from them during chapter 2 is nothing compared to the type of tension that would be there if a relationship that intimate and intertwined had separated, especially considering the dark feelings jimin was feeling. He wouldn't have been cutely commenting on jungkook's lives and jungkook wouldn't have been asking to hang-out or getting excited to see jimin in his comments.

Idk, I'm sure someone could twist everything a certain way and only take certain things at face-value and then make everything else abstract, etc. to make the case that they are together, but I don't really see it. You look at face-off, alone, and just his general dark feelings during Face, then look at the creation of Muse and how him and his producers said he couldn't relate to the love-dovey beginning songs, which is how they ended up making Who (despite the fact that jikookers try to distance him from the song since he doesn't have writing credits even though he sat in the recording room telling them what he wanted and saying it felt like reading his diary). I think jimin could have very well gone through a pretty awful breakup along with the inner turmoil he was going through post-covid, but I don't think it was with jungkook if he did. I still enjoy jikook's bond either way at the end of the day, but yeah I don't really get how anyone can take an honest look at jimin's work and his words and think he was in a long-term healthy love-of-his-life relationship during that time or into chapter 2.

Not trying to change your opinion or anything, honestly I don't really see it discussed much in jikooker spaces (besides bad-faith stuff like tkkers stirring up shit over pronouns in lyrics which is just dumb) and when it is, some jikookers are pretty pick-and-choose about what they deem to be true to jimin's feelings and what isn't. Which I get being nuanced, but sometimes it does feel like a "well this fits my beliefs so clearly this is true to jimin and this doesn't so it means nothing because he didn't write it" or whatever. I honestly get annoyed with the bad-faith arguers because it prevents being able to have actual discussions about some of this stuff in our little jikooker corner of tumblr. Like "he said her, he's clearly straight! he danced with a girl, straight!" stfu.

I don't have much to say to you anon. Not really. Not anything that hasn't been said anyway. Which you've seen and decided its jkkrs doing mental gymnastics. "I'm a Jikooker but..." its never a great way to start a sentence. It just gives major insecure jkkr vibes which i just 😬😬😬😬😬😬😬 you either believe in them or you don't. There is no if, and or buts.

I will leave you with this; over the years, antis and (insecure) jkkrs alike have always found a way to conclude Jkk aren't as close anymore or they broke up or some other bullshit. But what happens everytime Jikook resurface and we see them together again?

NOTHING HAS CHANGED!!!

Nothing ever changes with these 2! They come back closer, more in sync, happier, more in love and their relationship more established than ever. This happens every👏🏽damn👏🏽time👏🏽 Everytime!

Then the insecure jkkrs will be like "jkk is real" again.

And then we will go without content for a while and once again we are back here with the jkk aren't as close argument. Once again. It is an exhausting cycle that I refuse to be a part of.

You can try and nit pick various reasons as to why Jikook aren't in an established rlship, but I will chose to focus on reasons why they are definitely 130000000% in a relationship. Like the fact that they are enlisted together rn, the fact that they could have done AYS with other members but chose eo. Or the fact that Jimin wrote his name on JK's chest with sunscreen and I dont even want to imagine how he did that. What position they were in that would justify people calling them brothers 😂

You do you anon. I'mma just be over here enjoying Jimin promote the hell out of his favourite JK song.

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Look at him so proud of his man 🥺🥺

[ahgasegotarmy116]

Shut Up and Kiss Me | Jeon Jungkook | Epilogue

Summary: Jungkook let's you work on his second single 3D but although he's singing this to girls all over he reminds you that you're the only one he wants Pairing: Backup Dancer Reader x Idol Jungkook (f2l they're honestly crackheads I love them) Word Count: 4.7K~ (barely edited per usual lmao) Warnings: Explicit language and smuuttt (he's so hot ya'll I can't) a/n: Kay this took me ling enough to get out but I figured it was about time since the main story hit 1K notes!!! Like what??? Ya'll are actually insane! Thank you so much and I hope you like the epilogue as much as you liked the first part 🫣 p.s. This takes place partially during the 3D dance practice video so yeah I hope ya'll enjoy 🥰 Be sure to read Shut Up and Kiss Me first 💜

"Alright guys go ahead and take a break. Jungkook can you come here for a second?" the choreographer calls out.

"Y/n" Nari whispers, right in my ear scaring me half to death making me place my hand over my heart to ground myself. "Don't do that!" I whisper scream at her. "Not my fault you're staring girly I said your name like three times" she teases and I scoff before walking over to grab my water bottle.

"Am I not allowed to stare at my boyfriend?" I say cocking a brow at her after taking a drink of water. "You are but you also have to remember that your boyfriend is Jungkook and not everyone here knows that" she says, scolding me and bringing me back to reality.

"Hey" Jungkook says, jogging up to us. "What did he want?" I ask, nodding my head towards the head choreographer for this song. "Well..." he says rubbing the back of his neck. "Well what?" I ask, scared that theres something wrong.

"Well they wanted to tell me everyone is doing a great job and the formations are solid but..." he trails off again. "Jeon Jungkook if you trail off like that one more time I'm gonna have a heart attack now tell me what's wrong?" I scold, waiting for his answer.

"They said that we had good chemistry while we were dancing together" he starts off and I let out a breath, glad that it wasn't something major. "But maybe too much chemistry. They think it looks obvious that we're dating with the way we're interacting with each other verses the rest of the dancers" he says and grabs my water bottle out of my hand and starts chugging it nervously.

"Really?" I cringe, loving the fact that we show clear chemistry but also hating the fact that I haven't blended in like a background dancer should. "Yeah they kinda just told me to tone it down and asked me to tell you the same" he says, handing me my now empty water bottle, cringing as well at the notes that they had given.

"Well alright then I guess I'll try my best" I say, shaking my arms and legs real quick to physically shake off the pressure I had felt growing. "Yeah I will too" he says, nodding his head and smiling at my actions.

"What are you smiling at?" I ask, eyes narrowing, a playful scowl written all over my face. "You look cute when you're nervous" he compliments with a crooked smile and I roll my eyes, scoffing at his words.

Once I hear the choreographer call out to everyone to come back and I start to make my way over Jungkook grabs me by my wrist and pulls me back towards him making me fall on his chest. "What are yo-" I start but he kisses me right on the lips and dips me real quick causing all the dancers to gasp and cheer us on.

"Alright you two that's enough" the choreographer scold and Jungkook breaks the kiss and steadies me on my feet again. I take a deep breath, my breath literally being taken away from how sudden that was and how embarrassed I am on top of it.

He rests his forehead on mine and lets out a dry chuckle before I wack him on the bicep which happens to be on full display today with his white muscle shirt on. "Why did you do that?" I whisper scream to him, looking around at all the eyes that have started to trickle away from us and listen to the instructions for the next run through.

"Just because he said we couldn't show too much chemistry while we're dancing doesn't mean that we can't do it while we're not" he smirk, placing a kiss on the back of my hand before running over to the group that's gathered in the middle of the practice room.

I shake my head at him and make my way over on my own, wiping my lips to take away his messy saliva he left on them and when he sees me do so he pouts a bit before looking turning his attention to where it once was.

"What just happened?" Nari whispers when I walk up next to her. "Don't look at me, Jungkook did it. He said something about they said we were showing too much chemistry while dancing but we can when we're not. I don't know something like that" I mumble and she nods her head and goes quiet for a second to listen but breaks her silence again.

"You know all of us had to sign new NDAs today right?" she says and I turn to look at her, my brows scrunched together in confusion. "Really? But why didn't I have to?" I question and she laughs at the same time that the choreographer tells us to get in starting position.

"We signed them so that they made sure we would keep our mouths shut about you two" she winks and the two of us and two other of the girls line up behind Jungkook to get in formation, waiting for the music to start.

"You're kidding me right?" I whisper and she shakes her head, "Your name was on it and everything. They even highlighted it since you guys are the newest idol couple. Well a couple that includes an idol" she says, clarifying her wording unnecessarily.

"Okay I get it I get it" I say, and cover my face with both of my hands in embarrassment. No wonder everyone had been giving me weird looks today.

As Jungkook's voice blares through the speakers Nari and I compose ourselves and wait for our parts.

"I can't touch you through the phone" Jungkook starts, getting into his idol mindset and I get weak in the knees like I always do but take a deep breath and remember to maintain chemistry with him but not too much...

"When there's two dimensions..." he says and our eyes lock when we step into each other. 'He's so fucking hot' is the only thing I can process, my body on autopilot, following muscle memory and willing myself to stop thinking about him.

"So if you're ready, and if you let me" 'Trust me I've let him' I think, my mind wandering to the places I've let him- "See it, in motion, in 3D" he sings, his voice going in and out of my head as I follow the steps along with everyone else.

'Okay why don't I just focus on the other dancers? Yeah make sure our formations look well and our moves are in sync' I think to myself and go along with that.

"Body to body to body to body to body" comes through next and I push on his right shoulder while one of the others girls pushes on his left and I look at the way he's grabbing onto him, definitely a lot harder than she needs to me and I annoyingly take note of it.

"You give me brand new emotion, you got me drinkin' that potion" he says and I hold onto his shoulder while we all do this hip thrust thing. I don't know what the choreographer was thinking when he gave the girls this kind of a move but alright. Being next to him and holding onto his while he does it tho is um...well let's just say the flashbacks are a lot more vivid this time.

"I just wanna see you like that see you like that..." 'God I swear why did I start focusing on the other dancers? Now all I can think about are the girls and everything that goes along with this song and how Jungkook's voice and music dictates our every movement.

"'Cause you know how I like it girl" 'Yes Jungkook, I know how you like it, and you know how I like it. When is this song gonna be over? This is honestly some sick form of torture at this point. You know what, lemme just look at the staff, yeah the staff will be more or less harmless right?'.

When I look towards the staff though my eye catch Jungkook's in the mirror behind them and it takes everything in me to not stop dead in my tracks.

The look in his eyes is mesmerizing, promises of things we would never say aloud hidden behind that fiery stare and it brings me some form of comfort, knowing that although he's singing this song to women through out the world and with female dancers around him, I'm the only one he's got his eyes on. The one he's singing his song to.

I wonder if the reason he chose this song was because these might've been some of his thoughts and feeling for me when we weren't living in the same city, or weren't even on the same continent. Why do I have to keep on having these thoughts? I swear I'm just digging myself deeper.

"I had one girl, too boring" I hear Jack's voice come through and I roll my eyes, chancing a glare at Jungkook and I see him wince, remembering the scolding I gave him when he showed me the song for the first time.

"Am I not enough for you? Too boring?" I fumed. It was on a day when I had been feeling a little insecure to begin with and when he told me he had another song I had been excited to listen because he was excited to show me.

"Baby that Jack's verse, I swear I don't feel like that! You know I've loved you since I was little! I promise!" he pleads and I just end up giving him the silent treatment for the rest of the night but I let him cling to me and he apologized over and over again.

"We already asked him to rewrite his lyrics a few times and I felt bad asking him again" he says, placing his chin on my shoulder and arms wrapped around my waist, being positively attached to my hip.

I turn around to face him, still with his arms wrapped around my waist to make sure he's being honest with me.

"You sure you don't mean that?" I say, glaring up at him and he nods, the poutiest lips and the saddest doe eyes I've ever seen are granted to me along with his response. "Okay" I say, cupping his face and he closes his eyes leaning into my touch before I tap him twice on the cheek.

"Hey" he whines, scrunching his brows together, a new flavor of a pout on his face. "Just make sure that any more features you have on this album young man have to do with monogamy, you got that?" I say pointedly and he nods his head up and down violently.

"I promise! I'll make sure to tell the producers" he says and I hum in response, loving his panicked response. "Why couldn't his verse have been like Latto's?" I groan and try to walk away from him but he pulls me back.

"And what might you mean by that princess?" he says, taking on a whole new demeanor knowing exactly what I mean based off the explicit lyrics. "How they more or less kinda sorta are based off of a true story" I mumble, looking down at where he's pressed our bodies together and dying to get rid of these clothes already.

"Yeah? Which part? Maybe I should make sure it's completely based off of a true story hm?" he says, his hands slowly trailing his hands down from my waist grab my ass, pulling me even closer if possible.

I lean my head against his chest getting shy at the thought that he's keep his promise and he laughs at the cute gesture mixed with the explicit words that garnered this reaction.

"Is my girl getting embarrassed?" he taunts, placing a kiss on top of my head but still making no moves to take his hands off my ass. I whine and he laughs again and lets up, leaning back to try and catch my gaze.

"You know I love you right?" he asks and I hide my face even more, making sure he can't see how red it's gotten. I nod my head and mumble out a muffled 'love you too' but he's not satisfied by my answer and starts walking us backwards, the back of my knees hit the couch and as a result has me not so gracefully falling onto it.

"Since you're too embarrassed to say that you love me it guess I'll just have to make you scream it instead" he says leaving me biting my lip, my heart rate skyrocketing when he comes closer...

'So if you're ready, and if you let me, I wanna see it in motion in 3D' blares through the speaker one last time at the end of the song, all of the dancers going on with the choreography and Jungkook looking back at us, at me and he knows what's on my mind and smirks through the lyrics and I know I'm an absolute goner once we're alone together.

Why do all of these songs have to be so sexual? Every single time we're done with practice or he finishes up his own rehearsals it seems as though he can't wait to be alone with me. Not that I'm complaining but how can one man contain this much stamina.

When Latto said 'Seven days a week, Seven different sheets, Seven different angles I can be your fantasy' she really hit it right on the head.

'You know how I like it girl, 3D' finally closes out the song and everyone stops, panting in effort to catch our breaths can be heard throughout the room and a few of us dramatically fall to the floor in an effort to ground ourselves, including Jungkook.

"Alright everyone that's a wrap. We'll see you guys bright and early Monday morning with one last rehearsal before we fly out to film the music video. Thank you very much and get some rest because we've got a long week ahead of us" the choreographer says and we all clap for each other and get ready to grab our stuff to go.

Jungkook comes over and gives me a hand to help me up and I take it right away, not even having to put in any effort with him putting in all the work to get me back on my feet. "You done for the day?" I ask, seeing that look in his eye, knowing exactly what's bound to happen and as soon as he's about to open his mouth one of the staff members calls him over again.

"Meet me in my studio, this shouldn't take long" he whispers in my ear leaving me shuddering as he leaves me, not giving me even a second to answer before he's jogging over to said staff.

"I was gonna ask if you wanted to go home together but it looks like you've got other plans" Nari says, scaring me again for what is it the third time today? I look at her and she knows the answer already, rolling her eyes and placing a hand on my shoulder.

"Just don't get pregnant" she says, louder than I'd care to admit. "Nari!" I scold and she laughs, causing our little conversation to catch Jungkook's eye, granting me a wink in response but quickly switching back to a more professional demeanor.

"I'll see you later" she sings and I groan before picking up my dance bag and heading towards the locker rooms to shower. I'm thankful that they have these for us because I would hate to have to deal with being disgustingly sweaty just waiting for him to come back.

~~~~~

Once I finish up I make my way to Jungkook's studio where I see him sitting at his desk, hair still dripping a bit while he towel dries it a bit more.

"Thought I told you to wait here for me" he teases, draping the small towel around his neck before getting up to walk towards me, placing a hand on my waist and pulling me in to kiss him. I hum into the kiss, loving moments like these where we can openly be ourselves again.

"Didn't know how long they were gonna keep you so I took my time in there" referring to said shower and he kisses me again before taking my bag off my shoulder and throwing his towel in the little laundry basket by the door.

"Looks like you're gonna need another one soon though" he says, turning around and stalking towards me leaving me walking backwards until I stupidly back into his desk. "Is that a threat?" I ask, taking us back to that morning after.

"Thought by now you would know that I always keep my promises" he says and places his hand on my jaw, putting me at just the right angle to kiss me.

He starts slow, full of the longing and desire he had shown me when he was looking at me through that mirror and deepening the kiss, making me fall further and further into him.

Trailing my hands up his chest I bring them up to wrap my arm around his neck, trapping him against my lips while I use the other to run my fingers through his hair, making my nails drag along his scalp and pull at his locks just how he likes it leaving him groaning into the kiss.

"Tell me what you were thinking about during rehearsal" he says, pulling away from my lips before kissing me one last time and the trailing his lips down my neck. "I wasn't thinking about anything" I gasp when he bites down on my collarbone in response.

"Don't lie to me, I saw the way your eyes glossed over and how flustered you got when I finally caught your eye. Baby was having flashbacks wasn't she?" he teases, trailing his hands under the shirt I'm wearing which happens to be his.

I whimper when his hands cup my breasts, the warmth of his skin seeping through the pitiful excuse for a bra and he pinches one of my nipples as a punishment for not telling him the truth.

"I was thinking about you" I gasp, feeling him smiling against my skin before leaning back and pulling up my shirt a little, waiting for me to give him the go ahead by lifting up my arms which I do right away, used to having done this time and time again in his studio.

"Care to elaborate?" he asks cocking a brow at me, leaving me rubbing my thighs together giving him clear answers as to what I had been thinking of.

"Remembering that you know how I like it? Perhaps the champagne confetti you know you give me every time? Rain rain rain you can't fake it?" he says, trailing his hand down and pressing a finger against my center, already feeling how wet I am for him.

"Seems like she's already soaking wet isn't she" he says, trailing his hand up towards the drawstring on my sweats and tugging them as a plea to take them off. I hop off the desk and he immediately helps me out of them, smiling at the small wet stain that's been left on them before setting me up on his desk again, totally bare with only my bra on which is new and incredibly sheer him having just noticed since it's the last thing that's keeping me from being fully exposed.

I bring hands to my back to unclasp it but he tells me to leave it on. "It looks so pretty on you. Wanna fuck you in it" he growls into my ear before leaning back and ridding himself of his clothing and smashing his lips up against mine, having become even more needy if possible while scanning my body and taking off his clothes.

"Been thinking about this all day. Wish I could fuck you in here all the time. Can't even work properly in here. Just thinking about how I've fucked you everywhere in this room" he says, driving me to insanity while he drags his dick up and down my slit, making me dizzy from the stimulating but needing more to satiate this hunger he's built up in me.

"Jungkook please, do something" I plead, remembering the fact that this room is soundproof meaning I can be as loud as I want in here which is another reason why he loves having sex in here. He tells me he that sometimes he wishes it wasn't though. Says he wants the whole company to know how he makes good on his word and is fucking me right.

"Needy little thing now aren't you" he says, holding back his need to be buried balls deep in me in favor of making me beg some more. I scoot my hips forward and pull him closer in an effort to do it myself but he gives me absolutely no power over the situation.

"Gotta stretch you out" he mumbles against my lips and replaces his dick with his fingers, dragging it along my folds to get some of my slick on it to make it easier to slide in and after playing why clit a little and gaining breathy whimpers from me in response he slides a finger in, drawing circles along my clit in an effort to help me relax.

He does a quick job of it but makes sure to be gentle nonetheless while prepping me for him, needing to me inside me now. As a result he's soon pulling his fingers out of me and placing them in my mouth, distracting me from the fact that seconds later he's pushing into me, leaving me moaning around his fingers.

When I bite down on them from the surprise of him putting it in he hisses from feeling my walls clench around him along with the pain from the bite.

He pulls his fingers out of my mouth and places both hands on my hips and pull me towards him, slamming the rest of his length inside of me leaving me arching my back and choking out a sob.

He snaps his hips into me over and over again at a fast pace he only settles for in times where he's extremely needy or feeling a need to remind me of who I belong to. The first being the case for this situation.

"Shouldn't have let you work on this project" he grunts while his hands grip my hips even harder, dimpling my skin, bound to leave marks tomorrow.

"Drives me fucking insane seeing you move like that, you know that? Makes it so hard for me to not pop a boner right then and there. Fuck how did I get so lucky?" he growls in my ear, leaving me drowning in the sound of his voice, hearing all the thoughts he's been having this whole time.

"You're lucky I took a chance on the loner" I slur out leaving him slowing his pace so he could look at me properly. "Loner huh?" he smirks and I nod, smirking right back at him. He rolls his eyes and picks up the pace again, leaving me giggling at his reaction but soon I'm moaning his name with ever snap of his hips, all my coherent thought long gone when I'm close to tipping over.

"You've got a smart mouth on you today huh? Just begging to get ruined like always, my girl is never satisfied until she's begging for me to stop. Telling me it's too much. You're so fucking adorable when you cry like that. Fuck I wish I cou-" "Shut Up" I choke out, cutting him off by smashing my lips against his, not being able to handle his dirty mouth anymore.

Although I know it's almost impossible for someone to hear us I can't help but want to muffle my moans with his mouth when I cum, making his swallow all of them as his hips stutter and my orgasm triggers him leaving his slowing down, changing his pace to one that more lazy but just as deep, fucking us both through our highs before he pulls out making me whine as the loss of contact.

Maybe I am insatiable, maybe I'm completely lost in him. Not just because of who he is or what he does to me but just because he's him. Someone that I want to spend my life with and although I've felt like that for a long time I'm sure the freshly fucked mindset I have right now is the reason these feelings have come to the front again. 

He rests his forehead against mine and focuses on cleaning me up with a clean towel he had somehow gotten when I was lost in a daze and walks away, cleaning himself up quickly and throwing some sweats on.  

Once he's done and throws yet another towel in the basket he walks back over to me and kisses me. Over and over and over again whispering sweet nothings between every kiss and I swear I could never ask for someone more perfect in my entire life. 

"You okay?" he asks, pulling me off the desk and holding onto my hips, keeping me on my feet when my knees buckle once I make contact with the floor. "Yeah I'm, yeah I'm fine" I say, embarrassed by stumbling even though for the most part I always end up like this after we fuck. 

"Did a number on you huh?" he smirks, guiding me over to the couch to rest after having helped me into thankfully another fresh change of clothes I had in my dance bag with me. "Shut up" I grumble and flop down onto it, laying down and he chuckles before laying down and putting his full weight on top of me. 

I groan and hit him on the shoulders, hoping to get him off of me but he just laughs in response. "I swear you're trying to kill me" I say through labored breaths, but he thankfully alters his position so he's still on top of me but distributes some of his weight elsewhere. 

"No, I just love you that's all" he says, propping his chin on my chest and looking at me as if I hung the stars for him. "I love you too weirdo" I say, ruffling his hair when he pouts at me words, feigning offense.

 "First I'm a loner and now I'm a weirdo? You hurt me with your words" he whines, placing his hands on his chest right over where his heart is. "You are a weirdo" I say, sitting back up and cupping his face turning it towards me. "But you're my weirdo" I whisper, placing my forehead against his and rubbing my nose up against his, giving him eskimo kisses. 

"We need to get home" he says standing up and grabbing my hand to hoist me up as well. "Wait, why?" I ask, questioning his urgency and also getting a fluttering feeling when he call his place home as if we lived there together. 

"You're too cute to fuck just once today and I wanna spoil you" he says, kissing me and making me lose myself in him again. When he pulls away I laugh as I watch him clean up everything and grab both of our bags to carry out and when I try to reach to take mine from him he refuses. 

"Least I can do for my girl after that champagne confetti is carry her bag" he teases and drags me out of the studio before I'm able to scold him properly. "Jeon Jungkook you better watch yourself" I growl and he laughs, thoroughly pleased with himself. 

"I'd rather see you, in motion, in 3D" he says pulling me into the elevator and pressing G for garage while I push him against the wall once the doors close. "Feisty are we? Thought I took care of that back there" he taunts. 

"Just shut up and kiss me" I mumble against his lips and he switches roles, turning me around and pressing me against it instead. "You're gonna get yourself into trouble you know that?" he says between kisses, gripping onto my hips and pulling them flush up against his, showing me how hard he still is. 

"I counting on it" I say and we laugh before he kisses me breathless, the elevator taking us, down down down, each moment bringing us closer to my demise. Knowing tonight will leave me completely shattered, but luckily I've got him to pick up the pieces.

The End

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[jksmilkshake]

The Space Between Us - Jeon Jungkook

pairing - jeon jungkook x (f) reader

genre - established relationship, slight fluff, angst

summary - university is currently kicking y/n’s ass. battling higher education along side adulthood was not the ‘simple life’ she had always wanted to live. but atleast she had jungkook.

word count - 1155

warnings - mention of death, angst

notes - wrote something similar to this around 2 and a half years ago and just couldn’t stop thinking about it, so i thought to modify it and post it here!! hope you all enjoy!!

masterlist

y/n rested her back against the wall, as she sat down before the school’s courtyard. university was tough. lectures would last anywhere between an hour to 2 hours, assignments were given every other day, you would need to find time to study, get a job to earn some money, all while trying to maintain a social life. university was not for the weak.

her knees rested up against her chest, the cool breeze of mid-may kissing her cheeks, making her locks dance around in the wind. jungkook looked at her in awe, ‘hey baby,’ , he said softly, making y/n look up at him. her eyes were soft, tired almost, but relieved to see him. ‘hi babe.’ , she said with a soft smile on her face as jungkook sat down beside her.

he placed a kiss on the top of her head, gently pushing her head towards his chest. ‘you tired?’ , he asked, running his fingers through her soft locks. she simply nodded in response, leaning into his touch. ‘education sucks absolute dick.’ , she said, making jungkook stifle a laugh. ‘tell me about it.’ , he said quietly.

the courtyard was empty by this time. it was around 4:30pm, everyone was either studying for exams or sitting their exams. ah mid-may, what a time to be alive. exams on top of exams, the rude awaking of summer’s ridiculous heat slowly approaching, the even ruder awakening of adulthood hitting. what a time to be alive.

‘how’s your final project going?’ , jungkook asked gently. y/n was an english literature major, she had always adored writing, she felt that it allowed her to express her true emotions and be as creatively free as possible. her final project was to write a book or novel about the greatest love in life, may it be through a person, an experience or even a set of objects. a gentle smile spread across her face as he mentioned her project, ‘it’s going well, i’m excited for you to read it.’ , she lifted her body up from him, ‘it’s not due until the 18th of june but you can read it whenever i finish it. i want you to be the first person to read it.’ , her voice was like honey, jungkook could just listen to her speak for hours, her tone was always so kind and soft, her words were so meaningful, full of intent, so perfectly articulated. she would never say or write anything she never meant. ‘i can’t wait.’ , jungkook always looked at y/n with ‘googly eyes’ as y/n would call them. in this moment, he sat with his knees to his chest, chin in palm, making ‘googly eyes’ at y/n.

oh how in-love jungkook was with her.

days like this were the best. a simple walk around a park, followed by sitting down on the grass, talking about absolute randomness. jungkook and y/n had been dating for 4 and half years and have known eachother since they were 15. in all their years of knowing each other, it was all simple. nothing with jungkook was ever complicated. sure sometimes getting dressed up and going to a fancy restaurant was fantastic, but the simplicity of their relationship was one of y/n’s favourite things. everything with him was just, natural, easy almost. days like this where they would simply walk around and just enjoy the presence of each-other were the best.

the simple life, that’s what y/n craved most.

‘mmh, i’ve got a little present for you.’ , she reached into her bag, bringing out a box, maybe the size of a shoebox. as she placed it down on the grass, jungkook reached for it instinctively. y/n placed her hand on top of his, stopping him from opening it. ‘you can’t open it until the 5th of june. i mean it kook, you can’t open it until then.’ , jungkook’s head tilted, ‘isn’t the 5th our anniversary?’ , he questioned, taking his hand off of the box. ‘exactly.’ , a smile was placed on her lips. ‘little early to be giving your gift now, but much appreciated baby.’ , they giggled together.

the morning of the 5th of june. jungkook woke up with a bright smile, reaching over for his phone. he opened up his messages, pulling up y/n’s chat.

jungkook: happy anniversary baby 💗

he put his phone back on the nightstand by his bed. his eyes landed on the box y/n had given a few weeks ago. he chuckled at the thought of her, picking up the box. he took a picture, sending it to y/n. he lifted the lid of the box, looking down upon 2 books with pictures of y/n and jungkook scattered around the box. his brows furrowed, face scrunching up with confusion, as he gently picked up the book on top. the cover was a simple emerald green, with the words ‘jungkook’s version’ written in gold. he opened the cover, reading the first page.

‘hi jungkook, happy anniversary. it’s the 5th of june 2025, if you’re reading this, i’m no longer here. and i know you may think that this is just some kind of prank, but it really isn’t. in september of 2024, i found out that i had a terminal illness and only had a limited amount of time on this earth. i wanted to be able to spend the rest of my days with you. i wanted to be able to write with every last bit of strength my fingers had left, before it would be time for me to take my leave. i wanted to leave you with the writing i was most proud of, the writing i adored most. so here, i present to you, my final project. a book filled with you, my greatest love. i leave you with this book, which is only for you, hence the ‘jungkook’s version’ on the front, this book is written for you and your eyes only. this book is filled with all my favourite moments on this earth, which were all with you, it’s filled with all the words that stayed unspoken while i was here but now, i want to clear the air and let it all be known. and i know i promised you’d be the first to read my actual final project, which is why i left that with you too. i love you jungkook, thank you for being my greatest love.’

jungkook didn’t realise when the tears started flowing out. just as y/n poured her heart out onto the pages, jungkook’s physical tears dripped down his face, dampening her words, in pure and utter denial. ‘no…no, god please no.’ , he could barely whisper out. he looked back into the box, his eyes meeting the other book, her final project. he gently picked up the book, brushing his fingers over the cover.

‘the space between us’

[minisugakoobies]

Paradise | JJK - Fifteen

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

Genre: smut, neighbors to lovers (not quite friends but not quite strangers), slow burn, love triangle, Stripper!AU

Rating: M (18+)

Warnings: we finally get a JinKook showdown in the most ridiculous way possible, the tiniest bit of angst, CONFESSIONS!!, followed by post-confession sex, JK hits it raw, OC in lingerie, fingering, oral sex (f receiving), lots of talking about feelings, I'm sorry but this gets a little soft because I love these two

Word Count: 6.3k

Disclaimers: NSFW, obviously I don’t own BTS - they just inspire me

Summary: That sexy man on stage - the one currently giving your friend the lap dance of her LIFE - is your super shy neighbor, Jeon Jungkook?!

A/N: We're back and we're nearing the end! Thank you to everyone who has been waiting patiently for the next chapter - I didn't mean for it to take so long, but, well, life 🤷‍♀️ Anyway, I'm very excited to share this chapter with you finally - I hope you enjoy!

Unbeta’d as usual. Please don’t be a silent reader, I’d love to hear from you!  💕

Previous Chapter ♦️ Paradise Masterlist ♦️ Next Chapter

Despite his words earlier, Jungkook is in fact one of the first people on the dance floor when it opens. And of course, you’re right there with him. How could you say no when he holds his hand out and smiles at you like that - like nothing else would make him happier right now than you in his arms?

After all the time you’ve spent admiring Jungkook’s moves when he dances for you, it’s a whole new perspective to get to experience them when you’re dancing with him. Part of that difference is due to the deejay keeping it wholesome with the song selections, since Jennie and Yoongi’s family members are the majority of the revelers surrounding you. So there’s a lot less grinding and a lot more distance between the two of you.

You don’t really try to keep up with him - it’s not that you’re a terrible dancer, it’s just that he’s so fucking good. His every movement is so natural, like he’s not even trying. He does show off just a little bit, when Jisoo eggs him on, slipping into a freakishly accurate robot that has a small ring of guests gathering around to cheer him on. The giant grin on his face tells you he’s enjoying the attention just as much as the faint blush on the tips of his ears tells you he’s just a little bashful about it. 

After a few songs, the music finally slows a little, the crowd thinning as only couples are left. Jungkook draws you close, one arm sliding around your back as the other clasps your hand, holding it to his chest. The room around you falls away as he takes the lead, swaying with you around the floor.

“Are you having a good time, jagi?” he murmurs after a moment. 

“I am, Kookie.” Lifting your head from his shoulder, you gaze into his eyes, feeling that familiar warmth overtake you when he returns your smile. “Thanks for coming with me today.”

“Like I’d turn down the chance for free food and drinks,” he teases, laughing when you huff and try to pull away, tightening his grip to keep you locked in place. “What? I’m just being honest.” 

“Ass,” you mutter, but you can’t stop smiling, and neither can he. He lifts his arm, hand pressing lightly on your back to guide you in a spin, then brings you back into his embrace. You spot Rosé across the room, watching you and Jungkook dance, and she politely claps as you shake your head, grinning. 

The beat picks up again, and your friends surround you and Jungkook. Rosé, Jisoo, and Jin all dance together as Lisa introduces Yi-Jeong to the group. Even Jennie and Yoongi join in, and it’s true what Jennie told you yesterday - her man definitely has moves. Everyone’s happy and laughing, and you’re so full of joy you could just burst.

Jin suddenly twirls, facing Jungkook with an intense look on his face. The younger man takes a step back in surprise as Jin starts to rock his body back and forth, like he’s about to bust out a breakdance move. Is he seriously about to - 

“Ooh, dance battle!” Jisoo cups her hands around her mouth, yelling. Your other friends start whooping, forming a circle around Jungkook and Jin. Jisoo pulls you next to her from where you’ve been standing, so you’re not between them anymore. “Get it, Bambi!” 

While the others around you are shouting encouragement, you just gaze silently between the two men, unsure if you should be joining in. Unsure if this is a friendly competition or if the tense vibes you feel radiating between them is something more. From the expressions on their faces, it’s clear that they’re going to do this, so you just sigh, bobbing along to the beat, waiting for the show. 

Jungkook stops gawking at Jin and begins bedrocking, swinging his hands as he faces Jin with a fierce look. Jin glares back, sticking his arms out as he undulates in a rather impressive wave, rolling his long limbs from left to right. 

It’s not until you hear clapping behind you that you realize that more people have joined the circle, crowding in behind you, shouting Jin’s name. Jungkook hears it too, his brow furrowing slightly. It’s clear his competitive nature’s kicked in when he peels his suit jacket off. You hold your hand out for it automatically, feeling a swoop of heat in your stomach as he gives it to you with a wink. 

The tip of his tongue slips out as Jungkook suddenly throws himself towards the ground, landing on one hand like he’s doing a handstand, and then kicks his legs out in a cartwheel kick. He’s so smooth with it, inverting himself like it’s nothing, that you actually gasp.

It’s like he cranked the volume up on the crowd, and someone - Rosé, maybe? - starts chanting Jungkook’s name. You can’t help but add your voice to the mix. 

Jungkook lands back on his feet and motions for Jin to go. Jin also takes his jacket off, jaw clenching firmly. He rolls his body a few times before bouncing into the Roger Rabbit, feet stepping quickly, arms flapping at his side like wings. It’s surprisingly loose and funky, two words you don’t typically associate with Jin. 

Lisa yells, “Go chef!” and the crowd divides itself into two chants. Jin ends his turn with a little flourish, dusting imaginary dirt from his broad shoulders. But you know from Jungkook’s smirk that he’s undaunted, and without a second’s hesitation, he swiftly dives to the floor, launching himself into a windmill.

Your friends explode into cheers, watching Jungkook roll round and round the floor. As he picks up speed, he tucks his arms up onto his stomach, doing the trick with no hands. Then he comes to a stop with a freeze, legs hanging in the air. 

The crowd chants Jungkook’s name only as he rises to his feet. He straightens his tie, then gestures to Jin. Jin rocks for a few beats, a strange look in his eye. 

Then he throws his hands out in front of him, holding one steady while the other mimics winding a reel. 

“Is he - is he fishing for Jungkook?” 

You don’t answer Rosé as there’s no need to. Jin’s clearly doing the fishing pole move. One by one, the voices around you grow quieter. Jungkook blinks at Jin for a few seconds, obviously thrown by this decision.

Then he grins, flapping his hands by his face like fins.

“Oh, wow, they share a brain cell,” Lisa says. “Did not see that coming.” 

Jisoo groans. “Well, this is anticlimactic. I was promised bloodshed.” 

“Who promised you that?” you ask, laughing. Feeling a tiny bit relieved. 

The crowd departs, but the two men keep dancing. Jungkook pretends he’s been hooked, thrashing from side-to-side before dropping to the ground in his signature dolphin kick. Always a performer to the end, you think, as he hops back to his feet, and he and Jin take turns bowing to one another. 

The smile on his face gets wider when Jungkook sees you clapping for him. He reaches for his jacket, and you impulsively press a kiss to his cheek, biting back a laugh as his eyes widen slightly.

“If those are the moves you pull out for a dance-off, I can’t wait to see what you’ve got planned for later,” you whisper. Jungkook’s arm grips your side as he tilts his head to look at you. His touch is warm, but it can’t match the heat in his eyes. 

“Careful what you ask for, jagiya,” he replies, gaze dropping to your mouth so briefly that you almost miss it. “I need some water. Do you want anything?” 

You shake your head, and he disappears towards the tables. As soon as he’s gone, you feel someone brush your arm. 

“Okay, I’ll give it to the kid - he’s got moves,” Jin declares, holding his hand out in an offer to dance. You silently take it, letting him pull you close as the deejay cues up a ballad. 

Jin’s quiet for a few beats, leading you in small circles around the dance floor. It strikes you that this is the first time the two of you have really been face-to-face since yesterday, that weird standoff in the hallway earlier notwithstanding. You haven’t had a chance to talk to him alone since - 

“So what’s up with your boy?” 

You meet Jin’s gaze with a raised eyebrow. “Jungkook? What do you mean?”

Jin shrugs, the movement jostling your hand where it rests on his shoulder. “I mean, he looked like he was ready to throw hands when he introduced himself earlier. Like he was just itching for a fight.” 

“And you’re not?” You snort when he blinks in exaggerated confusion. “Oh, come on, all those snide little comments you were making at the table? Arguing with him about who has it worse? What was that all about?” 

Jin maintains his affronted expression for half a minute longer before he starts to laugh. “Okay, fine, I admit I was just pushing his buttons at dinner. In my defense, he made it too easy!” He laughs harder when you roll your eyes and start to pull away. “Okay, okay, I’m sorry. But I had to do something to cheer myself up. It wasn’t easy for me to sit there and watch the two of you together, to see the way you look at him.” 

Your curiosity tampers down your annoyance for a moment. “How do I look at him?” 

Jin smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “Like there’s no one else in the world.” 

You glance away, unsure what to say to that. Your gaze flits around the room until it lands on Jungkook, finding him at one of the tables, chatting with Lisa and Yi-jeong. His nose crinkles as he laughs with your friend, tattooed hand coming up to swipe away the hair that falls into his face, and you hear Jin sigh. 

“Yeah, that’s the look,” he says, shaking his head. He shifts his arm from your back, leading you into a gentle spin. “I was honestly surprised at how easy it was to antagonize him. Figured nothing I could do or say would bother him, knowing he won your heart.”

When you don’t respond to that, staring at Jin’s bowtie instead of meeting his eye, he hums. 

“Oh, I see. You haven’t told him yet.” 

Without warning, Jin dips you. You gasp, clutching his bicep to steady yourself.

“Are you having second thoughts?” he murmurs. His hand grips yours tightly, arm cradles your back, keeping you in place while his face hovers a mere breath above yours. 

It’s an intimate pose, the way he holds you now, yet just like yesterday, you feel nothing.

“No. No second thoughts.” You’ve recovered from your momentary shock, voice steady as you reply. “I’m sorry, Jin, but like I told you yesterday, it’s Jungkook I want.” 

Immediately, you’re back on your feet. 

“Yeah, I didn’t think so.” Jin grins a crooked grin. “Had to ask, though.” 

You roll your eyes. “I’m starting to regret this whole ‘let’s be friends’ idea.” 

He ignores your jibe. “Can I ask you a serious question?” 

You take a moment to study his face before answering. All traces of humor have vanished as he waits for your response. Slowly, you nod. 

“What are you waiting for?” 

The rooftop garden glows softly in the night air, lit by tiny lights strung along the trees and flowering plants. Hidden speakers strewn around the open space bring the music from the reception outside, providing a gentle soundtrack for a beautiful summer evening. 

“Where are we going?” Jungkook asks, hand clasped firmly in yours as you lead him out of the reception and across the garden. 

In the corner of the roof, there’s a small nook carved out between two potted cherry blossoms, their branches obscuring the two of you from any of the other guests milling about. Right now, you need a little privacy.

You also need a moment to gather your thoughts. Your stomach’s jumped into your throat at the thought of what you’re about to do, and your anxiousness makes it hard to think straight. It doesn’t help that you’re slightly distracted by the sight in front of you. 

Although the sun’s long since set, the air is still warm. Jungkook’s shed his jacket, has his tie loosened, sleeves rolled to his elbows, hand still in yours as he looks at you expectantly, patiently waiting for you to speak. You can see the moon reflecting in his bright eyes, and for a moment, you’re back in the elevator at your apartment, staring at your handsome neighbor, that shy man with the sweet smile.

It wasn’t that long ago that he was a total stranger. Someone you saw occasionally at the mailboxes, someone who regularly ran away when you tried to talk to him. You didn’t know anything about him back then - what he did, what he liked, what made him laugh. What his kisses felt like. 

It wasn’t that long ago, yet it already feels like a distant memory. One that you never want to return to. Knowing everything you know about him now, feeling everything you feel - you can’t go back. There’s only one thing you need to do now - tell him. 

No reason to wait a second longer. 

Taking a deep breath, you squeeze his hand. “Jungkook, I brought you out here because I wanted to tell you something. I’m… ah, I’m not very good at this kind of thing, but I’m gonna try because I don’t want to drag this out when I don’t need to.” 

Jungkook’s eyebrows twitch slightly, but he doesn’t say anything, so you go on. 

“You know how I went to Jennie’s yesterday? Um, Jin was also there, with Yoongi. He pulled me aside and told me that the job Wendy asked me to interview for is actually his show for Nosh. And then he started talking about the two of us working together and traveling and -”

“Choose me, jagiya.” 

“Huh?” 

His interruption throws you off from the rambly mess you were attempting to say. Jungkook reaches for your other hand, holding both against his chest, and gives you a shaky smile. 

“Choose me, jagi. I know I don’t have a career like Seokjin does, or his money, or - or even a guarantee that I’ll ever have either of those things. I probably can’t promise you most of the things he can.” He pauses to draw a long breath, like he’s trying to slow himself down and not rush over his words, and oh, you want to kiss him so much right now. Even if this isn’t how it’s supposed to go. “But I can promise y-”

“No no!” It’s his turn to look surprised as you raise your hands to his mouth, muffling his speech. “Jungkook, stop! I was trying to tell you that I ended things with Jin yesterday. You don’t have to say another word because it’s over.” 

“Mmt’s omer?” he mumbles against your fingers, eyes widening. 

“Yes, it’s over,” you giggle, uncovering his mouth, and suddenly all of your nervousness floats away on the evening breeze. “Come on, Kookie. Don’t you know? I’ve already chosen. It’s you. It’s always been you.” 

Jungkook continues to stare at you with those big doe eyes as your words slowly sink in, and you can’t help but smile, fondly, so, so fondly, that familiar sensation of warmth surging up from your chest, and you know now that it has a name, that buzz, that elation, that euphoria, and it’s on the tip of your tongue, just waiting for you to breathe it to life. 

So you exhale. 

“I think I’m falling in love with you.” 

For just the slightest of moments - a fraction of a second, a single heartbeat - when he doesn’t do anything, doesn’t so much as blink or breathe, you’re scared you’ve said too much. It’s too soon, too fast, too everything. 

But then he wraps his arms around you, holding you close enough that you can feel his own heart thumping wildly within his chest, and puts your fears to rest with four simple words, whispered softly against your lips.  

“Jagi, I’ve already fallen.” 

He kisses you, soft and slow, every touch so full of tenderness that you could cry. You tangle your fingers in his hair, desperately seeking something to hold onto, to keep you from floating right off the roof. He’s fallen for you. Jungkook’s fallen for you. 

You never knew your heart could hold so much. 

All your nervousness from before has dissipated. Now the only reason your pulse races is the nearness of him.

“Are you in any hurry to get back in there?” he asks, tipping his head towards the party.

You shake your head. 

He smiles. “Good.” 

He takes your hand again, locking his other arm around your back. You lay your head on his shoulder and close your eyes, listening to him sing along lightly with the music drifting across the rooftop. Even when the song changes to something more uptempo, he doesn’t let go, just laces his fingers through yours and continues to sway with you beneath the stars. 

Many songs later, when the two of you finally return to the party, you find that it’s already winding down. Jennie and Yoongi are making their rounds to say goodbye, needing to go home  and pack for their trip to Jeju Island in the morning. 

Jennie grabs your arm and pulls you away from Jungkook, waving the other bridesmaids over. “I’m gonna do it tonight!” 

Jisoo pinches her cheek. “Babe, you’ve already done it. That’s why you’re late, remember?” 

“Ha, ha.” Jennie smacks her hand away. “I mean I’m gonna tell Yoongi I’m pregnant, smartass.” 

“Ah, I’m so excited for you!” Lisa gives her a hug, and then you’re all hugging. 

“Have you all had a good time tonight?” Jennie asks, not waiting for an answer. “This has been the most amazing day! Thank you for everything, I couldn’t have done this without you.” 

“Yes, you could have,” you grin. 

“Okay, true, I could have. But it wouldn’t have been as much fun without you all. I love you so much!” 

“We love you too. Now go celebrate with your husband!” Rosé giggles, emphasizing the last word with an energetic wiggle of her eyebrows. 

“Yeah, get out of here. Some of us have plans tonight but we can’t leave until you do.” Jisoo declares. 

“She makes a good point,” Lisa chimes in, glancing over her shoulder at where Yi-jeong sits alone, clearly waiting. 

“Wow, okay,” Jennie laughs, but she’s flying too high to really be mad. “I’ll see you all in a week!” 

It’s as you turn to walk back to Jungkook that you remember. 

“Oh! Lisa!” 

Your friend glances at you as you back away with a giant grin. 

“Pay Rosé her fifty bucks.” 

“Why are your friends screaming like that?” Jungkook asks when you rejoin him. 

You just smile and press a soft kiss to his cheek. “Ready to get out of here?” 

Riding Jungkook’s motorcycle is a much more pleasant experience tonight than it was on your way home from your first date. The sky is clear above you as Jungkook expertly weaves through traffic, and you’re warm and dry sitting behind him, wearing his suit jacket, arms tight around his waist. You spend most of the ride hugging more than holding on to him. 

Every few blocks, he releases the hand grip to let his palm rest on your thigh for a moment, squeezing gently. You think he means it as a reassuring touch, knowing how shaky you are with the entire concept of motorcycles to begin with, how just the thought of riding one still makes you nervous, but the actual effect he's having on you is far from comforting. It’s driving you insane.

By the time you reach your apartment door, you’re feral with need. You toss Jungkook’s jacket onto the floor and Jungkook lets out a surprised yelp when you tug on his arm as he’s closing the door. He barely has a chance to turn the lock before you’re pulling him down, passionately kissing away his confused noise. 

“B-baby,” he finally manages to stammer out after a few minutes of intense making out, “baby, do you wanna move to the couch?” 

You shake your head. “Need you now.” 

“Yeah?” His eyes are so dark that it makes you shudder when he catches your gaze. “Always so needy for me, huh? Just like the first time?” 

You remember that night, the way he’d fucked you against the hallway wall, both of you too desperate to even make it another ten feet to your bed. That same greedy desire burns through you now. 

Thank god for the slit in your dress. Hitching your leg up, you wrap it around his back, guiding him back down on top of you. 

“Just like that,” your voice trembles, back arching as Junghook’s hand snakes between you, rubbing at you through your dress. “Ahh, fuck, just like that!” 

You grasp at the side zipper on the dress, fingers fumbling too much to yank it down as quickly as you want. Jungkook has to do it for you, helping you sit up long enough to shed the entire gown. 

He sucks in a sharp breath. “Jagi.” 

If you weren’t already dying for him, the expression on his face when he sees you in the lingerie you’re wearing beneath your dress would do it. 

“Does it look better in person?” you ask, running your fingers over your chest, thumbs pressing in slow circles to wake your nipples, feeling them swell beneath the lace. 

With a pained groan, Jungkook starts hurriedly tearing at his suit, throwing the items nearly halfway across the open space of your living room in his urgency, not stopping until he’s completely naked, cock already hardening between his legs. 

“Yeah,” he grunts, biting his lip to let his hands do the talking. They travel over your torso, up across your breasts, squeezing your hands so you grip yourself harder. He laughs at your little gasp, and then he’s swallowing your sounds with his eager mouth, knocking your legs apart with his knee so he can press his body to yours. 

Your own impatience has you hooking your calves the backs of his thighs, bending your knees to urge him nearer. But no matter how close he is to you, it’s not enough, an itch you can’t scratch no matter how much you try. 

“I think this is going to have to come off now,” you frown, tugging at your bodice. You need to feel him, skin-to-skin. 

“Oh, not yet,” Jungkook says, voice near enough to be a growl. “Please, jagi, keep it on a little longer. For me.” He looks at you with such a lustful gaze that you find yourself nodding, immediately caving to his wish. If he wants to fuck you in your lingerie, fine. There will be more time to feel him later. 

There will be more time for everything you want with Jungkook. 

His mouth reconnects with yours. You sigh into him as his fingers find the snaps at the crotch of the teddy. He’s not gentle with them, practically ripping them open, but he’s more delicate as he slides his finger into you, finding you just as wet as always. He plunges two fingers in, and you know he’s trying to take his time and make sure you’re ready, but you’re too impatient for his consideration right now. 

“Come on, Kookie,” you plead, cupping his chin to draw his gaze away from his work, “I’m ready. I need you now.” 

“Shit,” he mutters, clearly reading your frustration. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah. I wanna feel you.” 

He reaches for his pants, which have been flung over the back of the couch, and you stop him.

“No, I mean, I want to feel you.”

Jungkook swallows hard, his Adam’s apple visibly bobbing. “Jesus Christ, jagiya, you’re going to kill me.” He kisses you again, before his expression turns serious. “Can we? I mean, are you on something -” 

Laughing, you grab his face again, pulling him back to you for another kiss. 

“I have an implant. And I haven’t been with anyone since you and I have been…” you trail off, unsure what to call it. Dating? “Not since the last time I was tested.” 

“No one?” He doesn’t say the name, but you know what he’s asking. 

“No one.” You and Seokjin never got that far.

“I haven’t been with anyone either.” Jungkook strokes his thumb along your cheek. “It’s just been you. You’re the only one I want.” 

“Then have me.” With another sigh, you lift your hips, rolling against him. 

Jungkook groans, and you barely have a second to breathe before his lips take yours again. There’s some shifting, you spreading your legs while he’s propping himself up on one elbow and lining himself up with his other hand, and then he’s sinking in, slowly, filling you up hot inch by hot inch, until he’s completely sheathed. 

You got your wish. You can feel all of him. It’s a new sensation, and it’s intense, but you can tell it’s even more so for him. 

“Oh, goddamn, jagi.” Jungkook presses his forehead to yours. His chest heaves as he holds himself completely still. “You’re so - fuck.” 

“Yeah? Is it that good?” 

He nods a little, eyes squeezing shut, and you run your fingers through his hair, trying to impart some comfort. As much as you want him to rail you through the floor right now, you don’t want to rush him anymore. 

“Does it really feel that different?”

Jungkook shakes his head. “It’s not that. That’s part of it - you feel so fucking good, baby - but it’s - it’s…” He huffs out a short breath, shaking his head again. “I don’t know how to say it. It’s everything.” 

And you understand exactly what he means, not by whatever he’s trying and failing to say, but by the look in his eyes. 

“Oh,” is all you can say, feeling your own words slipping away from you, as he starts to move. 

His cock drags slowly, so slowly at first, his head bowing as he concentrates on the feeling of you, the way your cunt seems to suck him back in eagerly, walls clenching when he snaps his hips experimentally. He observes every breath that escapes you, every mewl and whimper, and adjusts his pace, the strength of his thrusts, all the while drowning in his own perception, the tight heat and wetness of your core making his eyes roll back in his head with each pump. 

Neither of you speak after that, but you don’t need to. Your bodies communicate everything you’re feeling, punctuated by the unrestrained noises you both make. Your nails rake down Jungkook’s back as he fucks into you, drawing whine after whine from him, broken cries of desire, of wanting you to hold him, claim him, just as he’s claiming you. Mine, your fingernails declare, inscribing his skin with scratches. Yours, his hips answer in return, powerfully driving into yours, connecting you again and again, faster and faster. 

His hand clutches at the thigh you’ve wrapped around his waist, fingers twisting around the garter straps, and you can tell from his unsteady panting that he’s close. Your own pleasure is nearing the precipice, but you know he’s going to reach his first. Which he confirms with a strangled whimper.

“Jagi, I’m - I’m gonna come,” he grits through his teeth, brow furrowed, like he’s focusing all his energy on not coming right then and there. “‘M sorry, I can’t stop, I can’t - “

“Don’t stop, Kookie, don’t stop!” You don’t care if he finishes first. This isn’t about just sex anymore. All you want is for him to feel as good as he makes you feel, all the time. “Come on, cum inside me. Give me everything, fill me up!” 

“Fuck!” he grunts, moaning your name, and with only a few more thrusts, he follows your command. His hips jerk wildly as he gives in to the burning need beneath his skin and fills you with his hot release. It seems to go on and on, until he’s gasping, sagging against you weakly, too wrung out to hold himself up any longer. “Holy shit.”

You just hum, stroking his sweat-soaked hair, until he finally lifts his head. 

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I got caught up in the moment. Too much going on in my head and - and, fuck, you felt too good.” He gives you a sheepish smile.

You shush his apologies with a laugh, wrapping your arms around him again, urging him to lay down, so his head rests on your chest. “You don’t have to explain. It’s been… it’s been a long time since I’ve felt anything like this.” 

He sighs, moving slightly so he can leave light kisses over your covered chest. “Me too.” His hand trails lazily down your torso, following the swirls in the lace’s pattern. “I’m glad you said what you did. On the roof. I wanted to tell you before how I felt, but I was afraid you’d think I was rushing things.” His voice gets quieter. “It wouldn’t be the first time.” 

There’s a sadness in his tone, a naked vulnerability that makes your heart ache, so you squeeze him a little tighter. You know exactly what he means. 

He raises his head a little, starts kissing his way down your stomach. “Are you still…”

“Am I still what?” You bite your lip as he reaches the apex of your thighs, gently nudging them further apart so he can lie in between. 

Jungkook presses soft kisses to your inner thighs, one side, then the other, before he looks up at you. “Was that enough for you or are you still wanting more? You were so needy earlier, jagiya.” 

Of course you still want more. You don’t think you’ll ever get enough of him. 

“Yeah,” you say, your fingers combing his hair out of his face so there’s nothing hiding him from you, just as there’s nothing hiding you from him, “I want more. Please, Kookie.” 

The smirk that spreads across his lovestruck face sends your heart racing. Your back arches off the floor when he coaxes the first orgasm from you with his tongue, feels like it might snap in half by the time he pulls the second one with his fingers. 

You melt into his embrace afterward, so thoroughly satiated, so utterly content, that you nearly fall asleep. But Jungkook coaxes you off the floor and into the bathroom, to wash his back in the shower before he tenderly scrubs yours, and then into bed, where the last thing you see before closing your eyes is the smile on his face as he whispers good night. 

“What does this one mean?” 

It’s late. Very late, sometime between midnight and early morning, when you should be asleep. You’d awoken in need of some water, slipping out carefully, trying not to wake Jungkook, only to come back to find him up and waiting for you to return to bed. He wasn’t just awake but up up, and you couldn’t resist, climbing directly into his lap for a slow, lazy ride. 

Now, you’re lying together, back pressed to Jungkook’s chest, with his arm draped beneath your breasts, as he gives you a tour of his tattoos. He tells you that most are symbolic, but a few have stories behind them, and you listen raptly to each one. Even though he’s probably tired, he’s indulging you, answering all your questions without so much as a single yawn.

He tilts his head to look at where you’re tapping on a striped snake. “That one? That’s supposed to represent growth. You know, shedding my skin, like a snake.” He flexes his forearm and the snake moves as if undulating on its own. “Do you like snakes?” 

“I like them a lot more than spiders, I can tell you that,” you reply, giggling. 

He laughs, watching silently as your fingers roam over his skin. There’s so much ink covering him, and you’re dying to know about all of it, filled with a buzzing curiosity despite the late hour. 

“What about this one?” Gingerly, you trace over the orange tiger lily etched onto the inside of his forearm, as if afraid that pressing too harshly will cause the petals to crumple. It’s gorgeously vibrant, the glowing color popping vividly against his skin. 

“Ah, that’s my birth flower.” Jungkook laughs a quick laugh. “That one was actually Taehyung’s suggestion. Do you know what the flower is supposed to represent?” 

“Uh-uh.” 

“Self-confidence.” He laughs again, shaking you a little as his chest vibrates. “He said it’d be a good reminder when he’s not around, that I still need to be confident.”

“Taehyung’s a good friend,” you remark, and Jungkook hums in assent. He rubs mindlessly at the flower with his other hand, fingertips bumping against yours. 

“You know, there’s another reason I got this one. A hidden meaning that tiger lilies are meant to express.” 

“Ooh, a hidden meaning?” You tilt your head to peer at him. “And what’s that?” 

Even in the dim light from your bedside lamp, you can see the tips of Jungkook’s ears turning red as he smiles bashfully, his eyes crinkling when he answers. “Please love me.” 

It’s impossible to resist kissing him, kissing that shy bunny smile that you’ve adored all this time, so you don’t even try, cupping his cheeks gently while you brush his lips with yours. When you pull away, his face is flushed, and he laughs, dipping his head in embarrassment even as he whispers, “Keep going.” 

You giggle, and kiss him again, and then stop. “Oh! Wait a minute.” 

Jungkook lets out a small grunt of displeasure when you leave his embrace, but you return quickly, handing him a small frame from your desk. 

“Jagi, you framed this?” He stares through the glass at the tiger lily sketch he’d drawn for you, back when he asked you out on your first date.

“Well, yeah. It was too pretty not to.” 

You take your place between his legs again, his arm automatically sliding around your waist while he gazes at the picture. “But it was just a quick little drawing. It’s not my best work.” 

“So? I think it’s beautiful. And… it’s from you.” You can feel your neck warming as you speak. “I like to keep it on my desk when I’m working. Every time I get annoyed by something, I look at it, and it calms me down.” Your lips quirk in a little smile. “So you can imagine that I look at it a lot,” you say, half-joking, half-not. Because it’s true, you do stare at it a lot. The drawing always brings you peace. Because it reminds you of Jungkook. So fiery and bright, but also so lovely and delicate. 

“Jagi,” Jungkook says again, swallowing thickly. His arm squeezes you closer.

You take the frame from his hand, placing it on the nightstand, before shifting to face him, legs straddling his as you loop your arms around his neck. “Be honest - were you sending me a hidden message with this?” 

His ears are burning red again. “Maybe. Guess it worked.” 

You surge forward, kissing the cheeky smile right off his face. His hands settle on your hips, holding you tightly, as if right now there’s any danger of you leaving. There’s nowhere else you’d rather be, with no one else. 

But you’re also wondering something you’ve been wondering for a while now, and since he’s been so obliging so far, you decide to ask him one more question. “Can I ask you something?”

“Jagi, all you’ve been doing is asking me questions,” Jungkook grins. 

You roll your eyes at his teasing tone. “Yeah, okay, I just mean, can I ask about something that doesn’t have anything to do with your tattoos?” 

He nods. 

“If I hadn’t come to Paradise with my friends that night, would you ever have made a move?”

He clearly wasn’t expecting that question, judging by the look on his face. His eyes fall out of focus as they stare unseeing at you, and you know he’s lost in thought. You give him the time to find his way to an answer, running your fingers through his hair soothingly while you wait.

“I don’t know,” he finally admits. “I’d like to think that yes, I would’ve gotten up the nerve to talk to you. But it might’ve taken a while. Seeing you at Paradise kind of gave me an opening.”

“I think this still would’ve happened,” you tell him, suddenly filled with an unusual amount of confidence, bolstered by his hands on your waist, his eyes locked on yours, “all of this. I think we would’ve ended up just like this.” 

“How do you know that?”

“I would’ve worn you down at the mailboxes,” you grin. “At the rate we were going, it probably would’ve taken a decade, but we’d get there eventually.” 

He laughs, hands locking behind your back as he holds you close. “Or maybe I would’ve shown up at your door one night and danced for you. Maybe that’s what I did in another universe.” 

“I’m sure it worked,” you murmur, leaning closer to his lips. “I think in any universe, we end up like this. We’re just lucky that we got here so fast.” 

“The luckiest,” he agrees, closing the space between you. 

When you finally fall asleep again, you dream of falling through other universes, following the same dark eyes and wicked smirk through each.

If you liked this fic, please consider reblogging! Likes do not help it get seen by other readers. 💕

Masterlist 💜 Find me on AO3 💜 

© 2021-22-23-24 by sunshinerainbowsbts/minisugakoobies. Crossposted to AO3. Please do not copy or repost.

[bluelavendre]

Title: "Surviving Together"

Fandom: BTS

Pairing: BTS ot7 x reader

Major Genre: Survival, Zombie apocalypse.

Zombie Au inspired a bit by All of us are dead series.

Chapter 1: "The Beginning of the End"

--

The morning sun filters through your classroom window, casting a warm glow over the mundane chaos of school life. You sit at your desk, sketching absentmindedly in the corner of your notebook, trying to block out the chatter of your classmates. Jin, the class president, is arguing with the teacher about extending the lunch period, his dramatic gestures making the entire room laugh.

At the back, Suga has his headphones on, head tilted against the window, seemingly indifferent to everything. Jungkook, as usual, is surrounded by a group of boys, showing off his athletic prowess by flipping a pen perfectly into his friend’s pocket.

Jimin and J-Hope are goofing around, trying to get Taehyung (V) to join their impromptu dance session. RM sits beside you, his nose buried in a thick book.

It feels like just another day at school.

The bell rings for lunch. As you head toward the cafeteria with the group, a commotion in the hallway catches your attention. Two teachers are dragging a struggling student into the nurse's office. You catch a glimpse of their pale, bloodied face and red, glowing eyes before the door slams shut.

"What's going on?" you whisper to RM.

He shrugs, looking concerned. "Probably just a fight gone wrong."

You exchange uneasy glances with the others but dismiss it. After all, fights aren’t uncommon.

Lunch is interrupted by a blood-curdling scream from the hallway. Everyone freezes, trays clattering to the floor. The doors to the cafeteria burst open, and a swarm of infected students floods in, their growls echoing.

"RUN!" Jin shouts, pulling you and the others toward the nearest exit.

Jungkook grabs a metal tray, using it as a makeshift shield to fend off an infected student. J-Hope clutches your hand tightly, his face pale with terror. Together, you and the boys sprint through the chaos, dodging and weaving through the crowd.

The school has descended into madness. Teachers and students are being bitten and turning in seconds.

You and the boys manage to find refuge in a classroom, slamming the door shut and barricading it with desks and chairs. Everyone is panting, their faces etched with fear and confusion.

"What the hell is going on?" Jimin whispers, his voice trembling.

"It’s a virus," RM says, piecing things together. "Did you see how quickly they turned? It’s like something out of a movie."

"We’re trapped," Suga mutters, peering out the window. The courtyard is crawling with infected.

Jin takes a deep breath, his leadership instincts kicking in. "Okay, we need to stay calm. First, we need to secure this room. Then, we figure out how to survive."

Jungkook looks at you, his eyes filled with determination. "We’ll get through this. Together."

As night falls, the group sits in a circle, their faces illuminated by the faint glow of a phone flashlight. Despite the horror outside, a strange sense of unity begins to form.

J-Hope cracks a joke, trying to lighten the mood. "Well, if we survive this, at least we won’t have to take tomorrow’s math test."

The room erupts in nervous laughter.

For the first time that day, you feel a glimmer of hope.

The laughter fades as silence settles in, interrupted only by the distant groans and pounding on doors. The reality of your situation creeps back in, suffocating the temporary relief.

"We can’t just sit here forever," RM says, breaking the silence. "We need to figure out where it’s safe and find supplies. Food, water, anything we can use."

Jin nods, his jaw clenched. "And weapons. I don’t know what those things are, but we can’t fight them off with just our hands."

Jungkook stands and starts pacing, his fists clenching. "The gym storage room has baseball bats and stuff. We can try to get there."

"But how?" Jimin asks, hugging his knees. "The hallways are crawling with… them."

Everyone looks to RM, whose brows furrow as he starts sketching a rough map of the school on the back of a worksheet. "If we take the science lab hallway, it’s a shortcut. But…" He hesitates.

"But what?" you ask.

"That area was close to where the outbreak started," RM admits.

A heavy silence follows.

"Then we stick together," you say firmly, surprising even yourself. "If we stay here, we’ll starve. If we move, we might have a chance."

The boys exchange glances, your determination sparking something in them.

"She’s right," Suga mutters. "Better to die trying than rot in here."

As everyone prepares for the next step, Taehyung quietly approaches the window, his face unreadable. "Guys," he calls softly.

You all rush over, peering through the blinds. The school courtyard is bathed in moonlight, and for the first time, you notice people on the rooftop of the main building. They’re waving flashlights, trying to signal someone.

"Survivors," Jungkook says, his voice barely above a whisper.

"That means we’re not alone," J-Hope says, his voice tinged with hope.

Jin shakes his head. "It also means they’re stuck like us. We need to focus on getting to the gym and arming ourselves first."

"But if we can get to them, maybe we can escape together," Jimin adds.

"One step at a time," RM says. "First, the gym. Then we plan the next move."

With your makeshift plan in place, the group begins moving. Jin and Jungkook take the lead, armed with broken chair legs. RM carries a desk lid, ready to shield anyone if needed.

You’re at the center of the group, J-Hope clutching your arm as if letting go would mean losing you to the darkness.

The hallway is eerily silent at first, the fluorescent lights flickering above. Then, a low growl breaks the quiet.

"They’re here," Suga mutters, his voice taut.

A shadow darts across the far end of the hallway, and a figure stumbles into view—a former classmate, now one of the infected. Its head jerks toward your group, and it lets out an inhuman scream.

"RUN!" Jin shouts.

Chaos erupts as you sprint down the hallway. More infected appear, their growls echoing as they chase after you. Jungkook uses his makeshift weapon to knock one down, and Jimin pulls you out of the way just in time to avoid another.

You reach the science lab hallway, slamming the door behind you and barricading it with a nearby cabinet.

"Is… is everyone okay?" J-Hope pants, leaning against the wall.

"Yeah," you manage, though your heart feels like it might burst out of your chest.

"We can’t keep running like this," RM says, breathing heavily. "We need to move smarter, not faster."

While catching your breath, you notice something odd. The door to the science lab is ajar, and a faint blue glow emanates from inside.

"What is that?" you whisper.

"Don’t," Jin warns.

But curiosity gets the better of you. You step closer, and the others reluctantly follow. Inside the lab, shattered glass and overturned equipment litter the floor. A strange cage sits in the center of the room, its bars bent as if something broke free.

"Look at this," Taehyung says, picking up a notebook covered in blood smears. The pages are filled with diagrams of cells, labeled with terms like mutation, virus, and subject Z.

"This… this isn’t just an accident," RM says, flipping through the notes. "They were experimenting on something."

"On someone," Suga corrects, pointing to a picture in the notebook—a student’s ID photo.

It’s the same student you saw dragged into the nurse’s office earlier that day.

The weight of the discovery sinks in as you leave the lab and make your way toward the gym. The group is quieter now, each person lost in their thoughts.

"You think this is why it started?" Jimin asks, breaking the silence.

"Probably," RM replies. "But what matters now is surviving, not pointing fingers."

"But someone did this," Jungkook says, his voice filled with anger. "Someone caused all this."

"And if we don’t focus, we’ll die because of it," Jin snaps. "Stop thinking about revenge and start thinking about surviving."

The tension in the group rises, but you step in. "We’ll deal with the why later. Right now, we just have to trust each other."

For a moment, everyone looks at you. It’s a heavy responsibility, but you feel their silent agreement.

You finally reach the gym storage room, your heart pounding as Jin carefully pushes the door open. Inside, it’s dark and eerily quiet.

Jungkook steps in first, his makeshift weapon raised. The rest of you follow, scanning the room for any signs of danger.

Just as you start gathering supplies, a loud crash echoes from the other side of the room.

"Something’s in here," Taehyung whispers.

The door to the equipment closet bursts open, and a horde of infected pours out, their glowing eyes locking onto you.

"FIGHT!" Jin yells, and chaos erupts once again.

To be continued…

[kittyscupcakeandbunny]

Made by me

The Masterlist

My BFF is a Vampire 🩸

[SUPERNATURAL AU]

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬: 𝐨𝐭𝟕 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫.

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬 𝐧𝐬𝐟𝐰 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 (𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐩𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝, 𝐠𝐨𝐫𝐞, 𝐞𝐭𝐜.) 𝐚𝐬 𝐰𝐞𝐥𝐥 𝐚𝐬 𝐬𝐞𝐱𝐮𝐚𝐥 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭. 𝐌𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐦𝐚𝐲 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞 𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞, 𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐦, 𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐦𝐩𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐮𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐝𝐞, 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐚𝐥𝐜𝐨𝐡𝐨𝐥 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝, 𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐦𝐚��𝐞 𝐬𝐞𝐱𝐮𝐚𝐥 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭, 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐭 𝐬𝐞𝐱𝐮𝐚𝐥 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬, 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐩 𝐨𝐛𝐣𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐬, 𝐤𝐧𝐢𝐟𝐞 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲, 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲, 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡, 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐩𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐢𝐧𝐣𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬, 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐚𝐣𝐨𝐫 𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐫/𝐩𝐬𝐲𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐥 𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐚𝐥𝐬𝐨 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐥𝐨𝐫𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐛𝐬𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐝𝐞𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐲. 𝐌𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐲. 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐚𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐕𝐚𝐦𝐩𝐢𝐫𝐞 𝐃𝐢𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐁𝐓𝐒 𝐖𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐞𝐫𝐚.

>𝐈𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐬𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐜𝐞𝐞𝐝 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲.<

𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: 𝐬𝐮𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐚𝐥, 𝐟𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐬𝐲, 𝐯𝐚𝐦𝐩𝐢𝐫𝐞, 𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐦, 𝐛𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬.

𝐈𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐨

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐧𝐞 🩸 𝐂𝐫𝐢𝐦𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐄𝐲𝐞𝐬

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐰𝐨 🩸 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐒𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐬

𝐎𝐧 𝐠𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐠

CRAZY OVER YOU

[HYBRID AU]

[FINISHED]✅

Side Characters: Namjoon/doctor, Seokjin/doctor, Taehyung/Hybrid Tiger, Jungkook/Bunny Hybrid, Hoseok/assistant.

Warnings: Smut, mentions of blood, sharp objects, rut, beast behavior.

Genre: Fantasy, hybrids au, smut.

SUMMARY》 Yoongi is a black mamba hybrid one of rarest species of hybrids, who’s about to be put down due to his lack of interest in living. But everything changes after the new medical assistance (y/n) takes a liking to him. Meeting after meeting he realise his feelings for her are not the only thing growing.

INTRO - In the books they say

ONE - Love at first bite

TWO - Bath me with your love

THREE - Hungry for your love I

FOUR - The truth untold II

FIVE - Bitter taste, Jealousy and bites

SIX - Take Me Home

SEVEN - The last bite

SET ME FREE

[MAFIA AU]

On Going

Side Characters: Min Yoongi as Agust D/Mafia boss, Jung Hoseok as Jack/Concierge, Namjoon/Police detective, Jungkook/Police detective, Park Jimin/thief and gang leader, Taehyung/Mafia member FBI Mole, Paradise owner. Jin/unknown, Busan/Mafia boss.

Warnings: This story contains nsfw content (descriptive blood, gore, etc.) as well as sexual content. Mentions may include violence, consumption of alcohol, explicit sexual interactions, sharp objects, knife play, description of injuries, themes of major horror and also explores obsessive behaviors and codependency, robbery, killing, guns, torturing, fire, toxic yandere men, violence, possessive behaviour, unhealthy relationships.

SUMMARY: You made it. Now a police intern as you always promised to your father before he died, you were more than happy to finally be able to help people like he did. But the law was not what you expected to be like. You did not know how lonely it would be for a young woman to grow her career in this kingdom. Having to take care of your 18 year old brother wasn't easy too and things just got a lot worse when you've met Agust D. The king of the mafia Min. He sure knew how to make a life turn into a hell hole.

INTRO

ONE - Red Chopsticks

TWO - I’ll find you in a dark Paradise

THREE - A deal with the devil

FOUR - Welcome to my world

FIVE - Good girl gone MAD OUT NOW

Five - Spoiler

SIX - Dance with the devil COMING OUT 18/5

Six - Spoiler

FINAL DESTINATION - LILITH COMING SOON

BREATH OF FIRE

[HYBRID GODS AU]

On Going

Side characters: Park Jimin/White fox hybrid.

MAIN: YOONGI X Y/N

Warnings: Mentions of blood, death, violence, sharp objects, suggestive words, smut, alcohol, killing.

Genre: Fantasy, romance, strangers to lovers, R +18.

SUMMARY: Did you know a fox only mates once in their life? For almost 400 years Min Yoongi never mated before, all theses years of emptiness and loneliness. He had tried so many times to end with his own hands. Until one night a hint of sweet and fire blows towards his nose, the smell was something he never felt before. And blood. Running for your life you felt hopeless in front of a lake, two man following you behind. Their disgusting smiles and eyes savoring your female body, you knew what they would do but you'd rather die. It all started with fire.

INTRO - Run little girl

ONE - Wood, cinnamon and honey.

TWO - Please wash away this blood on my skin

THREE - A taste of honey and dreams

FOUR - A Rise From The Shadows (coming soon)

…

FINAL BREATH (coming soon)

BUNNY BUNS

[HYBRID AU]

DROPPED

SUMMARY: Jungkook needed to hide. He was on the run. And what better place for a bunny hybrid to hide then a Bunny coffee shop? How could he resist? You smelled sweet and looked nice. All it took was one smile of yours and a bunny bread and he was on all fours for you.

Bunny on the run

ONE SHOTS

Coming soon

YOONGI

My Best Friends Crush

Characters: Min Yoongi/music theory Teacher, Jung Hoseok/dance teacher, Jungkook/art and design student, Jimin/danc student, reader/art student.

Genre: strangers to lovers, forbidden love?

Warnings: mentions of explicit language, sexual references(smutty material), consumption of alcohol, age difference.

Summary: “my whole life I always hated rules and protocols, growing to fin comfort on art as I could express myself unapologetically and freely. But there was one rule I made with myself; never fall in love with your friend crush.

With my rebellious nature, it was bound to be broken but I just never meet someone who would take that seriously.”

[bonny-kookoo]

Jungkook

Princess | Short #1

There's something happening between you two.

Tags/Warnings: Wolfdog Hybrid!Jungkook, Showdog Hybrid!Reader, Enemies to lovers, Angst, Fluff?, Brat!Reader, Jungkook has major brat tamer energy, reader has some issues

Length: 1.6k words

A/N: I will force feed you this AU and you will like it 👿

There is no taglist for this fic.

-> Masterlist

♥━━━━━━━━━━•.♡.•━━━━━━━━━━━━♥

Despite Jungkook having agreed to help you, he still continues to work on that choreography the same way as before, ruthlessly pushing you further and further despite your very much constant complains.  

Apparently, according to him, it’s not about the whole contest anymore. But instead, to teach you ‘something’. What it is, he won’t say- but you’re sure that’s all just an excuse anyways to torture you.  

But you’re not going down so easily.  

“How many times do I need to tell you that you have your own snacks?!” Jungkook complains, showing the empty bag of crackers to you, at the sight of which you simply sit in the middle of the practice room, tail happily wagging as if you don’t even know what he’s talking about. “And I’m sure you drank my water too.” He accuses, and you just shrug.  

“Maybe.” You answer. “The crackers sucked though. Way too bland. Do you always just eat old people snacks?” You question, irritating him further. It’s clear that you’re testing your boundaries with him, and most of all his patience- because lets be real, its funny as hell to make him angry. Mostly because you know he’d never actually get too upset with you- if he was to ever do so, you’re sure he’d give you a fair warning way before that line has actually been stepped over.  

Though, clearly, you’ve not really realized yet that you two have actually become closer up until this point- and that also means that Jungkook no longer tries to stay as far away as he can from you.  

So when he returns to the practice room with new snacks of his own and a bottle of sweet electrolyte juice, you’re already up on your feet, happily looking what he’s got himself- before he suddenly takes off his hoodie, catching you entirely off guard and freezing you in place for a good second, because wow. 

He’s got an extensive collection of art beneath the skin of one of his arms up to his hand even, and his physique is definitely also not to be played around with. Years of serious dancing and working out have clearly created the man he is today-  

And suddenly, your world is dark for a good second, as he pushes his hoodie over your head.  

You’re confused, when he suddenly pulls on the sleeves your arms are not yet pulled through, as he instead ties them behind your back, successfully immobilizing you. He picks you up and sits you in one of the chairs after he's done, leaning in close once you're seated, summoning the audacity to smirk at you.  

“Timeout, you gremlin.” He tells you, before he sits down next to you to eat his food, all while you can’t do anything but watch, wide eyed and completely confused.  

And instead of arguing, you just pull in your legs after toeing off your shoes, pouting to yourself while enjoying his scent. You’d never openly admit it, but he does smell nice- both the laundry detergent he uses for his clothes, and, well, his own scent. You blame it on the fact that throughout your career until now, you’ve barely had any close interaction with another male hybrid like this- so it’s probably just the fact that you’re not used to this.  

“Take it off.” You demand, and he shakes his head.  

“Nop.” He denies, and you swing your legs on the chair as you’ve let them fall down again.  

“I need to go pee.” You tell him, and at that he sighs, before he unravels the sleeves- 

Just for you to slip your hands through them, and steal his bottle of juice as you run into the hallway, hearing his footsteps loudly right behind you, hand having slapped against the door you’d tried to swing close behind you. You don’t get very far when he suddenly grabs the back of the sweater, pulling you closer again to try and lift you. “No- No no, I really need to go pee!” You deny, standing in front of him now after having avoided his grip.  

“Alright, let’s go then.” He says, grabbing the hood of the sweater to drag you to the restrooms, taking the bottle away from you. “Go pee.” 

“I don’t have to anymore.” You say, and he narrows his eyes at you.  

“Too bad.” He denies. “Go squeeze something out, I’m not gonna take you again.” He threatens, and you reluctantly go anyways, before you re-emerge, glaring at him, until you have an idea. He watches as you stand in front of him, putting on your best puppy-dog eyes, and holding your arms out upwards to him. “What.” He asks, arms crossed.  

“Carry me?” You ask, and he thinks about it for a good second, before he agrees.  

“Alright.” He nods. 

“Wait, really?!” You ask, surprised- when suddenly, your world is upside-down, with him carrying you over his shoulder, one arm holding onto your legs so you don’t tip over and fall off his back. And he hears you laugh about it most of all, your fluffy, curled tail wagging right into his face if it wasn't for his other hand holding it down as well, his own lips turned into a smile.  

Because honestly, this is what your life is supposed to be like. Happy, fun, and most of all, normal.  

It’s clear to him that you’ve simply never really had any proper interactions before that could’ve taught you how to socialize and get used to general manners- if anything, you most likely always got what you wanted just to have you shut up and be quiet. And eventually, when you grew up into an adult that you are now, things simply had gotten stuck like this. 

The reason why he thinks this, is just how.. Helpless you seem at the simplest of interactions. From simple questions about your hobbies, to normal touches like a hug for a greeting, everything appears to be foreign to you. And you mask that insecurity and lack of understanding with attitude- because up until now, most likely, this must’ve been your best defense. Everyone would leave you alone if you got cranky, and so, these days, you must feel extremely confused and without any direction, considering that this doesn’t work with him.  

But you’ve got to learn. Not just basic manners, but also the fact that not everyone in the world is out to get you.  

Especially not him.  

Back in the practice room, you’re now on his lap, where he’s got your hands behind your back, held by your wrists in his hand, grip strong. “We gotta practice.” You whine, but he knows that’s not what you’re going to do once he lets go.  

“We do.” He agrees. “And we will, once you’ve finished your tantrum.” He tells oyu, and you scoff.  

“I’m not having a tantrum. You’re being an asshole!” You tell him. “Who cares if I eat your snacks? You can just get new one’s!” You complain, and he shakes his head at that.  

“It’s not about that. What’s mine is mine, and what’s yours is yours. If I want to take something from you, I’ll ask. If you want something from me, you’ll have to ask as well.” He explains, and you kick out your legs, trying to get off- but he’s got a strong hold on you, so you’re stuck in place.  

“I’m not a child!” You bark, slipping off of his legs to instead lay on the floor now. He raises a brow.  

“You’re sure acting like one.” He says, crossing his arms. “Don’t you have boundaries that you’d like respected?” He asks, looking down at where you’re laying on the floor at his feet, and you stare at him for a second with an unsure gaze, before you slowly sit up, eyes glossy. It’s obvious that sentence must’ve hit a sore spot for you, because you’re visibly fighting another emotional outburst as you try and swallow down any tears that want to escape.  

It’s quiet. Mostly because you don’t want to break down, and he doesn’t want to say anything that might set you off. He hates seeing you like this- but he knows that one way or another, you’ll have to face these things.  

“I’ll respect any boundary you give me.” He tells you. “I promise you that. But you’ll have to do the same for me, because that’s fair, right?” He asks, and you take in a deep breath, before you lean against his leg, head resting against his thigh.  

“I’m sorry.” You mumble quietly, and he reaches out to out a comforting hand on your head. “I’ll be more fair.” You say, and he smiles.  

“Thank you.” He offers, before you look up at him.  

“Can we practice more now?” You ask, and he shrugs.  

“If you want to.” He says, and you nod.  

“It’s.. Actually fun. If you don’t nag all the time.” You playfully argue, making him roll his eyes.  

“I’m just trying to get you to do your best.” He denies, and you smile brightly at that, tail wagging on the floor, a sight he’s come to really like.  

“Thank you.” You say, and for the first time, he has to admit- 

You can actually be really fucking cute, if you want to be. 

[bangtanhoneys]

BANGTAN BABY: IN THE SOOP

ARMY had been surprised and delighted when it had been announced that a new series of In the Soop was ready to be released in a matter of weeks. There had been talks for ages about doing another series or at least, something similar to the original that took place all those years ago. 

However, there would be a slight change this year. Grace was nowhere to be seen on any of the promotional videos that had been released in the weeks to the premiere date and she hadn’t been seen on the official posters either. It had been expected though as Grace had only given birth to her and Seokjin’s only daughter, Bora, a month ago. 

But ARMY should have realised that what you see on trailers and photos, isn’t what you normally get. 

The first episode was pure BTS chaos. 

The third episode came with major surprises.

As the camera panned along the various rooms, there were signs that maybe the boys weren’t alone as the viewers thought. There was a box of nappies, freshly opened, near the bathroom and in the hallway, there was a brand-new baby stroller and various other items dotted around. 

However, when the camera switched to the living area, there was no baby to be seen. 

“Waa? What the fuck?” Yoongi yelled at the TV, where the LA Lakers had just lost a crucial point. 

“Hyung,” Hobi shushed him from the end of the couch but the basketball player paid him no mind.

No one paid Hobi any attention, their eyes either on the TV screen or on their phones. While they weren’t exactly big basketball fans, they could enjoy the sport and Yoongi’s reactions at the same time so it all equalled great entertainment. 

The room became silent when the small monitor on the coffee table came to life.

“Looks like someone is awake,” Seokjin grinned as he pushed himself off the couch and shuffled towards the stairs, straight to the room that he had commandeered for himself, Grace and their little one.

“See,” Hobi warned as he pushed at Yoongi’s good shoulder. “Told you that you were being too loud.”

“I don’t think hyung going ‘what the fuck?’ would have woken up Bora,” Namjoon grinned as he checked the small monitor himself. “Looks like she needed to be changed,” he added as he turned the monitor around to show the rest of them.

All went silent as they watched Seokjin change his daughter and pick her up, holding her close to his chest as he left the bedroom. They could hear his footsteps along the landing, down the stairs and the shuffle as he headed towards the living room.

“Jungkook, take her for me while I get a bottle sorted.”

The young man didn’t need much encouragement as he all but jumped over the back of the couch, and landed without falling over. Quite impressive for a young man who had downed a bottle of soju already and had eaten his weight in pizza. Large hands cradled the small body and Jungkook held his baby sister to his chest, sensibly walking around the couch this time to where he had originally been lounging between Yoongi and Taehyung. 

 “Was Hyung too loud?” Taehyung teased, reaching out to take a little hand. 

Yoongi frowned as he had already turned down the noise from the TV the moment Seokjin had disappeared upstairs and had turned on the subtitles so he could read what was happening instead. If anything, he had been a considerate drunk uncle. 

“Who wants to feed her?” Seokjin asked, coming in with a fresh bottle.

Four hands shot up immediately.

Jungkook was more than happy to have Bora in his arms and Yoongi didn’t dare take her in case something happened on the TV that made him jump which left Namjoon, Hobi, Jimin and Taehyung.

“Here you go,” Seokjin said as he handed the bottle to the winner.

Hobi wiggled in his seat in a mini happy dance as he took the warm bottle and with ease, took Bora into his arms and gave her the midnight snack. Jimin, not to be left out of the bonding experience with Bora, sat next to Hobi and quietly asked her how her meal was, and did it taste nice.

“Hopefully Gigi will be up to joining us tomorrow,” Namjoon commented as he stole the last slice of pizza and ignored Jungkook’s narrowed gaze. “It’s been odd not hearing her nag at us.”

“We had to wait for this little one to be ready to join us,” Hobi grinned as he put the empty bottle on the coffee table and Jimin stole her away, a towel over his shoulder to help her burp. 

“I’ll for one be happy to have her back, looking after you six is a right pain in the ass,” Seokjin commented as he finally sat back down, content in the knowledge his daughter was in the right hands.

He did, however, ignore the complaints coming from his brothers. 

[buryhny]

One Night Stand ; 23

➥ rundown ; as if the unexpected twist of a one-night stand turning out to be your CEO boss wasn't surreal enough, the situation takes a more challenging turn when both of you discover that you're expecting his child.

→ genre ; enemies to lovers | CEO au | pregnancy trope | slowburn

→ Jungkook x y/n → contains smut, fluff and angst → chapter twenty three ; wc | 3k

primarily on Wattpad

index ⇢ next chapter

It took a good 15 mins for you both to stop your laughter, it eventually did, leaving the both of you in an elated mood, Jungkook's got his wide bunny smile and so do you, you've got your fairly visible gummy smile. the walk to the maternity store was pretty long, strolling by the other fashion stores.

your eyes didn't leave the gorgeous dresses and casuals that the mannequins wore. If it looked amazing on the dolls, it would look fire on you. now is not the time to think about the impossible when you've got a little someone inside you, now is the time to look for clothes that would fit the small one more perfectly as the clothes that live inside your closet do not match your current measurements. as you two enter the store,

it's decorated with multiple photographs of moms and their babies, the vibrant pastel colors that brighten the little shop with the rainbow shades so light and elegant looking. Jungkook feels slightly shy, leave maternity shopping, he's never gone to a normal ladies' store so this makes him feel embarrassed?

he does not know what this feeling is but he's hiding his face behind his palm, looking around and meeting eyes with other men who he assumes to be the pregnant ladies' husbands or boyfriends, he looks over and overhead a man seeking gift boxes for his to-be-wife who is over 7 months pregnant with their son, whose already named 'Nam Hyuk.' Jungkook smiled to himself, he found this amusing. he's in the pregnancy wear section before the lingerie section.

you looked around for a couple of seconds and then were greeted by a sales associate who asked you if you needed any help, which you gladly accepted. "I'm almost six months and I'm looking for casual wear." "Sure ma'am, let me guide you." you followed the lady inside and Jungkook accompanied you. the range of styles made you want to do a happy dance because the clothes look so adorable, you would've never imagined they existed! at least not this cute! it's currently summer but fall is around the corner so the latest fall collection looks like a dream.

from hem dresses to jumpsuits, there are so many lovely-looking outfits and you're fully aware that you're gonna have the hardest time choosing from them all. the kind lady allowed you to take your time to look around and even told you to try them out before purchasing, said the majority of the moms had to come back again the next day because it wasn't fitting. you noted that and continued to flip through the rack of clothes. you were certain that you're gonna get yourself a dress. it didn't matter if it was a hem dress, sun dress, or even a bodycon dress.

your eyes widen when you notice the most beautiful set of dresses your eyes have ever seen. you were quick to grab them by their best color. Even though there were a variety of shades, you had to go white, peach and yellow for the sun dress. then you see a black bodycon dress that looks as sexy as a pin-up. your eyes jump from your left to your right, cute or hot. Jungkook stood behind you, unable to see your face of confusion right then you turned to face him. "help me choose, please! I'm going crazy."

you mumble while you hold up the dresses high so he can have a clear look at the whole thing. he looks at you, then away and back at your face. 'why do you have to choose?' he thinks to himself. "which one?" you ask him again and he frowns. "why are you choosing one? get both." you sighed and put the dresses down, giving him a nooooo look. "I can't get both, maternity clothes are so pricey."

Jungkook shakes his head while you look at the two of them and hang the bodycon back to the rack, you wouldn't need a black tight dress as a casual, rather go with the cute sun dress. the man takes back the dress and puts it on his arm. "what are you doing?" "Just get what you want, we don't look at the price tag." "but I do! it's not nice Jungkook, keep that back. it isn't even that great-" "We are not arguing here, get all the dresses you want, princess."

you look him in the eye, and you're kinda annoyed by the fact that he doesn't even stop and look at where it's going. the damn dress is $65, and that's just for one? "Jung-" "This dress will look amazing on you." he grabs a ruffle hem cami pastel pink dress, holds it high, and looks down at you, nodding he places it around his arm. you sulk and look at him. At this point, you're not really mad at him, but you're just sorry that he's got to do so much, and he never complains.

"This denim dress, mmm, I think you would like this? do you?" he turns to look at you and sees that little pout on your face and eyes of guilt. He wishes you wouldn't do this. he thinks that maybe if this situation was a little different, maybe if you both weren't on a one-night stand, maybe if this was an outcome of a different circumstance,

then maybe you wouldn't act this way, maybe you would be the one who wouldn't think too much, just grab anything to your liking and be satisfied. it's all the situation, and he won't blame you for feeling this way.

Jungkook takes slow steps toward you, removes his beanie, and pushes it inside his pocket. standing right in front of you, he lets out a breath and looks at your face, displaying a canvas of blue and white conveying guilt, regret, and apology. he knows exactly what you're thinking, that he's spending so much for you, he doesn't have to, even if he wants to, why is he doing this, and much more. "Stop running that mind."

he uses his index finger to tap on your head, gesturing you to pause that hundred thoughts inside you. one thing that he finds interesting is how your hormones work and have changed. you've been feeling so down lately, feeling emotional and much more quiet. it's the quietest he's seen you in a while. He blames it on your hormones because he knows you're on a ride of that emotional roller coaster. he would be lying if he said it's not cute. "we came here to shop for you, so what's with all that choosing?"

"but don't you think I look like a-" "I don't think about anything else except how beautiful you look today." You could feel your heart skip a beat, and you wanted to let out a gasp, but you didn't. he's so good with his words. You don't realize how he made you feel calm in just these 10 words. "I want you to get anything and everything that you need, so just tell me which dress, and we'll get it. Look at the dress, not the price tag.

okay?"

you don't say a word. You continue to look at the ground while he waits for your response. he places his fingers under your chin and raises your head up so you can meet his eyes. "okay?" he whisper-asks you the second time for which you reply to him with a slow nod. "good." his fingers let go of your chin, and you feel so empty without them, his fingers are warm, so so warm and they feel so good on your skin. "Now tell me, do you like this one that I picked. I'm not very good at this, I have not done it be-" "Yeah, it's pretty."

you say, and he smiles. "Look for more." he mutters, and you both check out each rack. there were flare dresses to your liking and even maternity sets with oversized tees, shorts as well as long cotton pants so you could wear them anytime, anywhere. you wore a wide smile on your lips, and so did Jungkook. He could visualize you in each outfit that you picked, especially the dresses. "How many did we get-"

"No counting, shouldn't you try them on?" You nodded immediately, and he asked for the fitting room. while walking towards it, he noticed a denim jumpsuit with patterns of bunnies, this made him want to choke himself because it was the cutest thing he'd ever seen, so he grabbed it and handed it over to you. "what's this?" "It's a jumpsuit, I think it looks nice. you should try it on." you looked at him suspiciously and took the bag so you could try every piece.

he stayed outside and looked around while you checked if everything fits you. he felt someone eyeing him but chose to ignore the feeling. you try each piece, and it leaves you giggling. the bump looks visible. It's looking so lovable! you're unsure if some of the dresses fit you as they've got zips or buttons at the back of it, so you need some help. poking your head out of the curtain, you're met with Jungkook's shoulder.

"All good?" he asks, and you nod. "I just need help with the zip." he looks around and finds no one, as he's about to leave to call for a staff you grip his shoulder. "You don't have to take the trouble, it's fine-" "no I'll call the-" "could you zip it up? it's not a big deal." you mumble. "if you're okay-" "yeah of course." he hums as an okay and walks inside. you stand in front of him with your back open. He looks at it for a while and gulps, remembering the night he zipped up your club dress when you were about to leave.

you look at the man's reflection in the mirror in front of you and try not to make the atmosphere more uncomfortable. the both of you can feel the tension, and when he soon zips it up, he gulps and looks at your face to avoid seeing anything more. "Is that okay?" "I think it's slightly tight, maybe one size bigger." "yeah, you need to be comfortable." "mm." Your back faces his chest, and he pulls the zip down for you and turns around so you can change. you push down the dress as it pools around your ankle. You bend down to pick it up and then put the next dress on which has buttons.

"help me, please." you say, and he turns to you, buttoning up the next dress. he looks at you and thinks that red really suits you. this one has a deep neck, too, and he's got no words. he just doesn't want to stop looking at you. "I'm unsure of this dre-" "it's gorgeous, you look really beautiful." he's quick to comment which made you flustered, so was he. his ears turned red and he blinked multiple times before coughing.

you smile secretly and hum, Jungkook turns away and closes his eyes. 'why did I say that so fast? like so fucking fast?' he feels embarrassed but thankful for you, for not making it more obvious.

he advised you to be at the exit while he paid for the clothing, which was a little fuss but you eventually agreed. he didn't want you to panic when you see the $875 bill. it's a branded maternity store, and this is the least he would pay. he doesn't allow you to carry the bags, and wants you to walk freely.

"what else do you wanna get? Or are you tired?" "I am tired." you mumble under your breath, it's almost 11 pm and you're feeling sleepy, maybe even hungry. "anything to eat?" "no, I have the leftovers." "Sure?"

"yes." he gets the car to the exit so you don't have to walk all the way. As soon as you sit, you feel so relieved. he glances over at you from time to time, seeing you with your eyes closed. you're hugging yourself as you relax. he wants to ask you if you would want to come back to his place, he misses having you around. Jungkook isn't sure if he's being paranoid but he feels as if someone is around him. he looks through each mirror but doesn't find anything to be highly suspicious of. so he lets it be.

As he arrives at your apartment, he sees that you're asleep, so beautiful and peaceful he doesn't want to wake you up but he has to, you'll sleep better with your PJs than your current outfit. "hey?" he whispers. "y/n?" he calls your name softly and you hum. "we're here." "mmm." you hum and open your eyes halfway and then close it back to blink a couple of times. "let's get you inside." he gets out of his side and walks over to you, holding your hand so you don't lose balance as you're still sleepy.

he finds your keys and opens up the doors for you, pushing them with his foot. he locks the door just in case and takes you to your bedroom. you sit on your bed and immediately fall back. "hey, change into something comfy." he smiles and takes off your shoes and socks. "y/n, come on." "you're so annoying!!" you complained which made him let out a laugh. you sit up with your eyes closed as he stands in front of you, looking down, thinking what you're up to.

"I'll stay out while you cha-" You hold his wrist and pull him to you. he frowns and comes up closer to you as you keep pulling him further towards you. you look up at him and pout. "stay the night, please." you softly speak under your breath, almost inaudible since you're afraid he could possibly reject you. your eyes still remain closed, you feel exhausted after walking and of course, the heavy meal makes you bloated too so all you wanna do is sleep the night off.

Jungkook looks at your face and then his hand, holding onto his index and middle finger with your hold palm like a little kid. he smiles, happy that you asked him for this. he can never say no to sleepy y/n. "Are you sure?" he asks for confirmation and you're quick to answer him with a nod. "let me turn off the lights, until then maybe you could change into a t-shirt? yeah?" "Okay."

you say without leaving his fingers, he doesn't want you to let them go either but you do. he walks back to the living room, puts the leftover packed food in the refrigerator, and turns off all the lights. he stops in his tracks when he realizes that there is no extra room for him. he walks back to you, confused, and then notices you changed into an oversized tee and shorts. "hey? I'll be sleeping on the couch-" "Why?" you ask him, your eyes slightly get bigger, like you've been woken up by his words. "y/n, I think you've forgotten that you've got no extra room." "Sleep with me."

he tilts his head and thinks about it for some time, he didn't think you would want to sleep with him again. The more he talks, the more you're woken up so he doesn't want that. he walks towards you and questions again, "You've got no problem?" "just get on." he gets on the right side of the bed as you move to the left. he lays down with his arm on his forehead and looks up at the ceiling, biting on his lower lip, he's feeling slightly uncomfortable because he knows you're awake too unlike the morning.

the air conditioner blows out cold air so he pulls the blanket on top of him. he tries to not glance at you as he keeps looking around your bedroom. he's thankful that your bed is queen-sized and leaves the perfect gap between the two of you but then he feels the mattress push down near him so he turns to have a look and sees you looking at him with your eyes wide open. his eyebrows furrow as he looks at you,"why is she fully awake?' he thinks to himself.

he continues to look at you, his eyes move from yours left to right and then your lips. you look at him from his eyes to his nose, you wanna just- the more you admire the man's features the more you wanna let your intrusive thoughts come to action. the bedside lamp glows with a dim light but he can still count each eyelash you hold, each freckle that sits on your nose and cheeks and he knows that he hasn't seen anyone as beautiful as you before. "can't sleep?"

you nod and continue to look at him like the world's gonna end. the time seems like it has stopped like nothing is ticking. it feels cold, and the air keeps hitting but colder as time passes. you can hear the drizzling of the rain as it's just about to fall but you both don't stop with the staring. it's like you're waiting for him to ask you something. "sleep." he says quietly and you shake your head, gesturing to him a no that you can't sleep now. he bites his inner cheek and looks at your features again. "c'mere."

he whispers and you're quick to get into his arms that leave him giggling. you hear the sounds of his soft sniggering and smile secretly as your face meets his chest. he's so warm. he's so comfortable. "better?" he asks and you hum. his fingers play with your hair, and he can feel your bump on his stomach,

there's a gap between the two of you, and in order to get closer to him you sleep sideways so your face can be on his chest. your right hand lies on his chest and the other on your bump, caressing it as it's getting difficult to sleep in different sides now that your belly is growing.

Jungkook looks at you and you look up at him, you feel so cozy in his embrace, it's something you've never felt before. this feeling is by far the best. you still look at him, he smiles at you, raising his eyebrows like he's asking what's wrong. "I'm so glad you're here." you speak in hushed tones, the man pulls himself lower so he can hear you better. maybe that was just an excuse but he wanted to get closer to your face as much as it's possible. you now face his neck but you didn't hesitate to push your face inside, to feel the skin of his neck. "Mm?" he wants you to repeat what you said.

"I'm so glad you're here, I don't think I would be able to handle myself if you weren't there for me." you speak. somehow you want him to know today. what's in your mind. you've seen a completely new side of him after he put you to sleep this morning, you like this, and you like now. so does he, he likes how you feel in his arms, he likes how you talk to him so quietly, and he likes it now. "and I'm glad you let me be there for you." he utters in a soft tone to you while he brushes your hair in his fingertips.

"you make me feel safe." you let him know in a subdued whisper, his heart stops to replay what you said and when he realized that you said, safe, that he makes you feel secure. he held your face so he could see you, so you would stop hiding inside him.

"what more?" he asks and you heave a breath and get inside his neck again. "lot more." you say inaudibly and caress your bump, feeling euphoric in his comfort and how you can feel flutters inside your belly, that your baby makes. he/she is starting to move and you're thankful that during this stage of pregnancy, you have support and someone there for you.

Jungkook pulls your face again and grows closer to you. His forehead touches yours, and he looks at your closed eyes as he whispers,

"I'll always be there when you need me, baby. I'll always be there when you want me."

next chapter ⇢

[dumpywrites]

Osculate - Jung Hoseok / J-Hope

Prompt: You kissed someone at the party last night… but who?

Prompt request: HERE

Genre/tags: Fluff, friends to lovers, producer! Hobi, slight drama, slow burn(?), mentions of cheating ex

Pairing: Hoseok x she/her reader

Word count: 5k

a/n: Welcome back Hobi <3 this is my first time writing about him! Also this turns to be longer than expected but we love the drama hehe

The gentle touch. 

The soft feel of a pair of lips touching yours for a brief moment. 

You kissed someone at the party last night… but who?

The thoughts were going on circles in your head. 

The first thing you realized when you woke up was a pang of headache. Of course, you were supposed to listen to your friends. Maybe drinking gin straight from the bottle wasn’t such a good idea. Of course it was not, but your ex was in the function.

The worse part was that he couldn’t even be considered as an ex. It had been a little over six months since the whole drama with Jaehyun. You went through somewhat of a situationship with him. Honestly, you liked the guy, couldn’t exactly say you had strong feelings for him, but you both agreed to enjoy the flow and get to know each other at a slow pace. For two months you both did all things couples do without any label, but it was not the main problem cause you had a conversation before about it… right? WRONG. He had a girlfriend the whole time. What a joke. 

Truth to be told, you were not that upset to see his face there. To you, even though he had basically ruined your perspective of men forever, it was all in the past. You couldn’t forgive him but there was nothing you could really do, life was just like that sometimes. What disheartened you was your friends inviting him in the first place. 

You had only ever told the whole story to two of them, that being Namjoon and Jungkook. Namjoon was the one who you called the first second you found out, and Jungkook the next day since you knew Jaehyun from him after all. You hoped that telling him would at least make him consider their friendship and to not trust him anymore, but you continued to see him occasionally in the photos of their stories.

Maybe Namjoon and Jungkook never told the others about it, it wasn’t their fault that Taehyung didn’t know and decided to invite him to his birthday party. Who knows, who cares. You were on your sixth shot of the night and you were feeling emotional. Fuck your friends for being insensitive really. 

Soon after the shots turned into drinking directly from the bottle, the memories were quick to fade away in a blur. 

“How did I even get here…” You mumbled to yourself. You still had the mini dress from last night on, but you were wearing your hoodie on top of it. You wondered if this happened because the person who helped you knew where you kept your hoodies. Coming from the party, the only people who could possibly knew that information were probably Namjoon, but that man couldn’t drive to safe his life. Was it Jin? After all he also had been to your place a few times before to play some video games, at least he knew where your bedroom was. 

The noise coming from your kitchen did sound suspicious though. 

“Hoseok?!”

You were very surprised to find him, considering he had never been to your place before and you couldn’t remember any major interaction with him the night before. 

“Finally!” His smile almost blinded you. “You alright? Sorry I had to use your kitchen, but I made us some pancakes.”

“I’m fine, thank you… I uh… what happened?” You said, sitting down on your dining table. 

“You got super drunk last night, long story short I got you here. Namjoon helped but he had to leave. We were worried to leave you alone, so that's why I'm here. Thank God you got your keys on a carabiner on your belt, or else we wouldn’t be here.”

“Gosh, what happened in between?”

“Nothing much, you were just dancing around, spilled drink on Taehyung and his girlfriend, not sure it was an accident though, and unfortunately you couldn’t make it to the ladies restroom so you puked right in front of the door.”

“Shit…” You facepalmed. “I’m so sorry you had to see that.”

“Come on, I’ve seen you drunk before it’s fine.” He said while placing the pancakes on two different plates. 

“But it wasn’t like this.” You shook your head. 

“It’s fine.” He smiled, somehow the look in his eyes softened. “After what happened with Jaehyun, honestly… I get it.” 

“Oh.” You looked down to your lap. “Did Namjoon tell you?” 

He paused, finally taking a seat next to you on your small dining table. “You kinda told me last night…”

“Of course I did.” You chuckled, rolling your eyes. “Sorry for trauma dumping, I guess.” 

“You don’t remember anything?!” 

“I don’t remember anything after I finished that bottle of Bombay Sapphire.” You shrugged, bitting your inner cheek. 

“That’s… unfortunate.” He flashed a disappointed grin. “Although I must say, I’ve always secretly disliked that guy for no reason, glad to finally have one.” He sneered. 

You looked at him amusingly. “Why didn’t you tell me before?!”

“Dunno, I just feel like I don’t have anything to backup my opinion and I saw how you looked at him. I just knew you wouldn’t listen to me anyway.”

“Fair.” You said with a spoonful of pancake in your mouth. 

“Hey, I’ve told you this yesterday but I’m gonna repeat myself again since you don’t remember anything,” He smiled, moving his body to face your direction. “It’s not your fault. He did that because he’s a bad person and that has nothing to do with your quality as a human being.”

You sighed. “Seems like I done told you my insecurities as well.” You threw a sad smile. “Thanks, I appreciate that.”

“If you ever need validation again, come to me. But I’ll be charging you next time.” He grinned and proudly opened his arms. 

You laughed. “The pancake’s lowkey fire though, I must say. I’ll treat you a meal next time.”

You ended up ordering some Chinese food while watching old Harry Potter movies in the background. Somehow the conversation just kept going and you didn’t know before that hanging with Hoseok was this much of fun. You even let him borrow an oversized T-shirt of yours before going home, since you felt bad that he was still with what he wore yesterday. 

You had fun and the question of a faint memory soon left your mind. Why bother? It was probably just a stranger that you would rather not know about. 

From later getting the meal you promised him, the friendship only continued to blossom more from there. 

**

It was a random day after work when you decided to join Yoongi and Namjoon in their studio. Hoseok was supposed to join later after visiting his parents. The cool thing about having producer friends was that you could basically get free early listen to various singers’ songs. And their studio being very cozy and spacious was also a plus point. The company they worked for was also quite chill about visitors. 

“Jimin just texted me, he said he wants to join just for the preview of the song I’m writing for Megan Thee Stallion.” Namjoon said after reading his text. 

“Isn’t his dance class not done until eight or something?” You asked. 

“He recently switched to morning shift, I heard. Something about being too old to teach in that hour.” Yoongi chuckled. 

“He always say that, but I just know he’s gonna be the healthiest when we are old, cause all of us have jobs that requires multiple hours of sitting down. Unlike him.” You said. 

“Ain’t that right.” Yoongi groaned, suddenly fixing his posture. “By the way, where’s Hobi?” 

“Didn’t he tell you? He’s visiting his parents so he’ll be a little late.” You replied. 

“Just found out about that now.” Namjoon replied, suddenly eyeing Yoongi suspiciously. 

“Well, he’ll probably just be an hour late so don’t worry.”

“You’ve been hanging out with him a lot, I see.” Namjoon said. “Even heard you calling him Hobi now too.”

“All thanks to that drunk accident, I found out over trauma dumping that I actually like hanging out with him.” You shrugged.

“Geez, don’t remind me. It was so hard to convince you to come home that day.” Joon complained. 

“Wait, speaking of that day…”

You had heard the story about when you got drunk and what happened in between. But none of their stories ever mentioned about you kissing someone, which was ironic considering that was actually the only part that you faintly remembered about that night. You were sure you were not dreaming, fantasizing even. You knew it was real. You just needed to know with whom it happened, if any chance your friend witnessed the scene. 

“Did you guys see me kissing anyone that night?” You looked at the guys back and forth. 

“You kissed someone?!” Namjoon gaped. “This is another news to me.”

“I didn’t even see you half of the party cause you were mostly at the dance floor and I never even left the table.” Yoongi said. 

You sighed. “I guess it’s probably just some stranger then. I just hope it’s not Jaehyun, because hell no.” You scrunched your nose in disgust. 

“Can’t be him, he was also mostly at our table. Only left after you spilled drink all over Tae and his girl. We got you home right after that.” Namjoon explained. 

“I need to thank you for that, cause heaven knows that fucker wouldn’t stop talking about his new job and how much pay he gets now. Like dude, shut up.” Yoongi rolled his eyes. 

“I don’t know if Joon or Jungkook ever told you but… something horrible happened between me and Jaehyun.” You looked at Yoongi. 

“I never told them, neither did Jungkook. We thought it wasn’t our place to say so. Looking back at what happened though, we should’ve said something. I’m sorry.” The taller guy said, looking at you with concern in his eyes. 

“It’s fine, I totally get it.” You assured Namjoon. “Me and Jaehyun used to have this situationship thing going on, until I found out that he has a girlfriend.” You said to Yoongi. 

“He has a girlfriend?!” Yoongi asked with widened eyes. You knew it was serious when he started to show a big reaction. 

“Yeah, I don’t think he intends to tell you guys about it too, to maintain his image and all.” 

“That shithead told us he only has two exes and barely go on dates.” Yoongi gritted his teeth. “Why are we still friends with him??? This is fucked up!”

“Jungkook didn’t know the whole story, it’s my fault.” Namjoon spoke again. 

“Guys, it’s fine… I don’t expect you to stop hanging out with someone just because they wronged me.” 

“Uh, you should???” Yoongi protested. “You are our friend too.” 

Your heart softened at the reaction. “I don’t want you guys to fight though…”

“We could just stop inviting him to our hangout.” Yoongi shrugged. 

“We need to tell the others about this, are you sure you’re okay with that?” Namjoon asked, his right hand patting your shoulder. 

“I guess it’s about time.” You sighed. “Just please promise me you’ll hold Jin down in case he wants to throw hands.” You folded your arms, holding back a smile. 

Namjoon laughed. “I’ll make sure of that.”

Just seconds later, you heard the door cracked open. 

“You guys are gossiping without me???” 

Hobi spoke as he entered the studio. He was wearing a jacket, which he took off right upon entering the room, revealing his black T-shirt that now seemed to be slowly transforming into a compression tee with him going to the gym lately. 

“Does he know?” Yoongi asked. 

You nodded. 

“What? What are you talking abou— Oh… don’t tell me it’s about that loser…”

Yoongi’s lips popped a “yup” while Namjoon just sighed. 

“We can finally agree that we should never invite him ever again now, right?” Hoseok said as he took his designated chair. 

“One hundred percent.” Namjoon said, nodding. “By the way, have you asked Hobi if he saw?” The guy pointed at Hoseok while looking at you. 

“Oh.” Your eyebrows raised. “Actually no, I haven’t. Hobi, did you see me kiss anyone at the party?”

Suddenly, the said guy choked on nothing. He quickly fixed his tinted sunglasses, only to then awkwardly take them off, putting them on the table next to his keyboard. 

“I’m sorry, what?!” Hoseok straightened his posture. 

“I’m sure it’s not that much of a surprise, you’re overreacting.” You chuckled. 

“I don’t know… maybe? Who knows. Do you even remember where it happened?” 

You looked at the guy with slight skepticism. “I don’t know. I can’t even remember the face. I remember the feeling??? If that’s not TMI.” You faked a cartoonish shiver. 

“Did you not… like it?”

“I wouldn’t say that.” You tilted your head slightly, pondering. “I remember feeling really soft lips, and I actually don’t remember disliking it in any way. But I don’t even know if I was the one who initiated the kiss.” 

“I see.” The guy turned away to face his computer screen. “At least you liked it.” 

“I guess so.” You shrugged. 

Jimin later joined as promised. Both of you quietly listened as the three producers continued on their work. You went out for dinner afterwards and Hobi offered to drive you home, since you used public transport.

There was a bit of oddity in his action’s that night towards you but you couldn’t put a finger on what. He just seemed a like he was holding back something and you didn’t know why. 

You also wondered since when did you start to notice how attractive Hoseok was. Had he always been this way? You were sure he did not change that much from the first day you got to know him. Because lately, he had been glowing, his smile looked extra bright, and the hair looked extra fluffy. 

Sure his fashion taste had developed over the years but he still looked pretty much the same. Maybe you were just dumb not to realize it sooner. Or maybe it’s the new workout routine. Yes, it must be that.

**

You found yourself hanging out yet again at the three’s studio. This time with only Hoseok, since he got something he needed to revise. You were nearby and decided to drop by with some pizzas, knowing how often these guys forgot to eat while working. After texting the group chat, you found out Hobi was the only one there, but the pizza had been bought anyway so you wouldn’t want it to go to waste. 

“Man, remember when you used to be such a fanboy for J.cole? Can’t believe you’re producing for him now. I’m so proud of you, man.” You took a bite of the slice of pepperoni pizza in your hand. 

“I know right? I can’t believe he randomly came across my SoundCloud archive.” He grinned happily. 

“You should try, you know… being an artist? You even dance well. Jimin’s words not mine.” 

“Nah, I don’t think I can handle the fame.” He shooed. “Besides, I don’t think I look good enough to be an idol.” He laughed. 

“Are you kidding me?!”

That sounded way too loud from what you intended. 

“Why? You actually think I look handsome or something???” He said with a judgy expression, almost as if he couldn’t believe you. 

“Hasn’t anyone actually told you that?”

“Uh… no, I don’t think so— why though???” He seemed truly curious. His eyes visibly widened and he scoffed closer with his chair. 

“Don’t fucking ask why!” You retrieved, actually moving away slightly on the couch. “It just crossed my mind, okay?”

He chuckled. “Are you actually being shy right now?” 

“No, I’m not!” You widened your eyes in horror when he got up from his seat, seemingly moving to sit next to you. 

“It’s fine, I get that you don’t actually wanna admit that I’m hot.” He smirked. 

“Aren’t you the same person who literally seconds ago said that he isn’t good looking enough???” You rolled your eyes. 

He took a slice and munched a big bite. He shrugged at you with a downturned smirk. 

“Forget I ever said that.” You scoffed. 

“You too.” He said after swallowing the food. “I think you’re attractive as well.”

You paused. The atmosphere had now suddenly turned thick. Your lips went tiny bit ajar, starring at him with an unbelievable look. 

“It hasn’t changed since the first time I met you. I’ve always thought you’re attractive.”

“Do not say stuff like that.” You looked away, feeling your body burning up, stomach roamed with butterflies. “You’re making me feel weird.” 

You didn’t know what you did but something changed in his eyes after you said that. His face was now only inches away from you. You didn’t think you had seen him looking this serious before ever in the whole time knowing him. 

It felt too weird, so weird that the back of your mind was quietly suggesting to claim his lips. The idea sounded odd but somehow not unheard at the same time. Should you be weirded out that you were thinking of kissing your friend or should you be weirded out by the fact that the thought of kissing him didn’t sound that preposterous to you? Your silly little brain could only handle so much. 

The sound of door knob turning saved you, or maybe not. Both of you instantly jolted and faced the direction of the entrance. 

“Am I interrupting?” Namjoon peeked. 

“N-No.” You awkwardly scooted away from Hoseok. “I thought you won’t be coming?”

“I left my hard drive.” The tall guy said as he moved towards his desk and grabbing the said item. 

“I see… Uh, do you want pizza? We still have some.”  

“Nah, just had dinner at home. You guys have fun though!” He gave a thumb up before exiting through the door. 

“Yeah, that’s weird.” Hoseok said, putting down his unfinished slice of pizza that he still had in his hand the whole time. “I’m sorry.” He giggled awkwardly. 

“I know right?” You laughed as well, but it sounded so fake that you internally gagged. 

That night the thought of his eyes looking at yours sent electricity down your spine. The butterflies in your belly kept you awake. 

**

After that, the mystery kiss never really crossed your mind again. At the end of the day, you were just glad it was not he who shall not be named. 

Just when your mental state was heading towards a better direction, your luck decided that you had to bump into the said guy, Voldemort himself, Jaehyun. God forbid a woman just wanted to grab herself some snack at a nearby convince store. Of course his new job was near your home, because why wouldn’t it be. The universe just loved to toy with you like that. 

“Y/N? Here let me get that for you…”

“No, thank you.” You forced a smile and shook your head at the cashier, signaling the lady to take your card. 

“It’s fine, they’re just biscuits anyway.”

“And I can pay them myself.” You said and quickly stormed away, hoping you would be left alone. 

“Wait!” He called, but you continued to walk out the store, unbothered. 

You squirmed in disgust when you felt his hand stopping you by your wrist. You stopped but shook his hand off immediately. “What?”

“Can we talk? I’ll be quick I promise.” He said, sounding almost begging. 

“No, there’s literally nothing in this world that can excuse what you did to me so I don’t want any further explanation.” 

“I… I feel so guilty. The past few months I’ve been so grossed out about myself…” He spoke out anyway. He looked at you with a pathetic expression. 

“You did something bad so of course you were supposed to feel awful about it. What part of this is my problem?” 

“I think you deserve a proper apology. So… I’m sorry.” 

“Are you still dating that girl?” You asked sternly. 

“No, we broke up due to distance.”

“Good. That innocent woman doesn’t deserve a lying and cheating fucker like you.” You folded your arms. “Is that it?! I would like to leave now.”

“Are you with Hoseok now?”

“What do you mean??? Are you out of your mind?! What made you thi—”

“I saw both of you kissing at Taehyung’s party.”

A few circuits in your brain just snapped because what in the fresh hell was that. All this time, the mystery man was Hoseok all along??? But he never once told you anything about it, even after you mentioned it. Is it embarrassing for him? Did he regret it? And worse, did you force yourself on him??? There were so many questions pilling up in your head. 

Seeing your zero response, he spoke again. “So, you’re not dating him then?”

“It’s literally none of your business.” You simply said before moving your feet to leave him in a flash. 

You were walking, running maybe? You couldn’t even think straight. You had not even reached your apartment complex yet, but you already took your phone out, calling Hoseok without giving it a second thought. 

“What’s up?” You heard the man picking up the call. “You don’t usually call…”

“I kissed you.”

The line went silent for some good second, before you heard him clearing his throat. “You finally remember?”

“Why didn’t you tell me???” You raised your voice. “I even asked you before!”

“It’s a lot more complicated than what you think.” He sighed. “And correction, we kissed. I kissed you back so you weren’t the only one doing the kissing here.”

Your heart skipped a beat. Maybe two. 

“Are you home? Can I come over?” You heard him sighing again. 

“Uh, yeah I am.” You bit your lips, feeling extremely nervous all of the sudden. “Sure, I guess…”

“Okay.” Was all he said before hanging up the call. 

You were now pacing back and forth at your apartment lobby. The security was already giving you funny looks and so did some of the passerby. You couldn’t care less though, because truthfully, your mind was filled with endless possibilities of what happened and how it happened. Deep down you were glad it was him, but the real question was did he feel the same?

By the time Hoseok arrived you were already sitting on the lobby sofa, clasping your hands together out of cold. The aircon and night air were not such a big help with your nervous sweaty palms. Not to mentioned Hobi in his casual clothes… you might be biased but still!

The walk to the lift and to your room was silent. You wanted so badly to make a small talk, but you couldn’t make yourself to open your lips. And the man who you knew as one of the most cheerful person out there, was dead silent as well, which was killing you. 

“Do you want to drink something?” You finally said after a few minutes of unwieldy silence between the two of you. 

“N-No need!” He shook his head. Did he just stutter?

“Okay.” You took a seat on your couch, in which he followed shortly. 

He took a deep breath and exhaled loudly. “At first I saw you crying silently near the toilet. You just left after the whole drink-spill accident and clearly were not walking straight. I was worried so I followed you there. By the time I reached you, you had already puked…”

“I’m sorry.” You cringed at the thought of him seeing you puke. 

“It’s alright. Fortunately, you didn’t dirty your clothes from it.” He smiled. “I helped you walk out from the club, and that was when you started telling me everything. I feel so bad that I couldn’t do anything about it other than listening to your cries. But a few minutes later, Jaehyun showed up.”

Your eyes widened. “What did he do?”

“Apparently he was looking to talk with you privately but never got the chance.”

“And what happened?”

“I told him to scram.” He chuckled. “Honestly, I’m proud of myself for not punching him in the face that day. How dare he appear right in front of me just minutes after I found out how much of an ass he is?!!” He said in disbelief. “But he refused to leave.”

“Oh…” You began to see where this was going. 

“He was saying a bunch of nonsense I couldn’t even recall, and just out of the blue, you grabbed me by the collar and just… kissed me.”

You blushed upon hearing the words coming out from Hoseok’s mouth. 

There seemed to be a light shade of pink on his cheeks. “I was so taken aback I didn’t know what to do. I mean… I couldn’t believe the girl I’ve been secretly crushing on just kissed me!”

Wait, what?

**FLASHBACK**

“I just want to talk to her!!!” Jaehyun insists. 

“She’s too drunk right now, so fuck off.” Hoseok spat out. 

“Then I’ll take her home.”

“Over my dead body.” 

And that was when you suddenly pulled him for a kiss. It all happened so quick, that even Jaehyun was also at loss for words, but Hoseok kissed you back, eagerly. That of course made Jaehyun even more uncomfortable, enough to make him finally leave the scene. 

The two of you didn’t stop kissing though. Not for a while. Despite being the sober one, Hoseok lost track of time by the touch of your lips. For a moment it was just you, and your friend, making out in front of a club entrance. The club was at the fifth floor of a building, so you were just kissing each other intensely, next to the elevator, against the glass window, like a couple of hormonal teenagers hungry for each other.

Anyone could see you, in fact, one of your friends might caught you on the act, but that did not stop Hoseok. What stopped him was the thought of you being heavily intoxicated. He did not want to take advantage of you, and clearly did not want you to think about him that way in any shape or form. And so he pulled away. 

“I’m sorry… that shouldn’t have happened.”

Your eyes looked glistening, cheeks red, and your lips were swollen. It took Hoseok almost everything in him to not just grab you and go back to kissing you like crazy. 

You looked up, staring at him with droppy eyes and started tearing up again. You just looked so helpless in his eyes. He was so desperate to ease your pain, but he had no idea how, or even if he were allowed to in the first place. 

“Hey, it’s not your fault… you know.” He sighed and took your right hand, intertwining it with his. “He’s a horrible person and that has nothing to do with you. You’re wonderful. You’re one of the most amazing person I’ve ever met.”

You only continued to sob, so he pulled you in and hugged you softly. He let you cry for a while before Namjoon and Jimin found both of you outside. They decided it was best if he took her home so Namjoon told him your address and followed Hoseok to his car. 

It was quite the struggle, supporting you and helping you walk to your apartment unit. By this time you were passed out already, so Namjoon offered to carry you, in which Hoseok volunteered in instant. 

Thankfully, your keys were attached to your belt, dangling by a hook carabiner you always liked to use, so it wasn’t hard opening the door. Namjoon opened the door and Hoseok laid you down on the sofa. He took off your shoes carefully before setting them aside. It didn’t seem right to just leave you like that so both of them thought it would be best if someone stayed. 

Long story short, Hoseok carried you to your bedroom. Saw your hoodie laying around and decided to put it on you and leave you in your room. The tiredness then caught up to him, so he crashed out on your couch. 

**

“And that’s all!” The man smiled at you. 

“Hobi, I…” You were speechless. “Thank you… first of all.”

“Don’t mention it. I was happy to help.”

“I didn’t know you have a crush on me…” You said while awkwardly avoiding eye contact. 

“At this point I don’t think it’s still a crush anymore…” He breathed out. “I like you, like a lot now.” He grinned happily.

You were once again too stunned to speak. 

“Well, now that it’s out of the bag, I hope it won’t make things weird between us…” He scratched the back of his head. 

“Jung Hoseok, I literally like you too.” You finally said, making you flushed so red that it reached your ears. 

“You do??? Forreal???” He grabbed both of your hands. 

“Yes, for real.” You giggled, still blushing. “Should we kiss again to seal the deal?” 

“Say no more!”

He stood up, which made you raised your eyebrow at him. But a yelp soon escaped your mouth when he suddenly lift you up, twirling you around before kissing you on your lips passionately. You smiled through it, kissing him back with equal devotion. His lips felt so familiar, but not because you had kissed him before. In fact, you barely remembered how it happened. It was because his touch made you felt secured, so safe, like you were finally at home. 

Thank you for reading! 🪩