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sketchguk · 1 year ago

Text

part time lover; jjk

➳ pairing: investigative journalist!jeongguk x daycare teacher!reader. alternatively, spy!jeongguk x assassin!reader

➳ genre: smut, fluff, angst, fake marriage au, dad au, spy x family au

➵ word count: 30.8k

➳ summary: there is no crime more perfect than marrying jeon jeongguk. your relationship is nothing more than a ruse - while your friends pester you for being perpetually single, jeongguk desperately needs a wife to complete the pristine image of a family, fooling his way through the parent interview at the nation’s most prestigious private school.

only time will tell how deep your lies will run as you find home in one another’s minds. because untangled in the moonlight, he is but a spy, exposing a secret world of corruption, and you, an assassin, ridding the streets of danger one hit at a time.

➳ warnings: themes of parenthood, raising a child, reader and jk were both orphans, reader has a past where she struggled with financially supporting her family, eldest daughter trauma, reader is insecure, fears of abandonment, mentions of violence and m*rder (but not explicit), mention of weapons (guns, knives, grenades, poison), jk has a bruise from boxing, descriptions of an explosion, blood is drawn twice (via kitchen knife and shrapnel from aforementioned explosion), (1) mention of weight loss, jk changes his appearance in an attempt to fit in, mention of a minor car crash, social drinking, scars (surgical/knife, bullet wounds), characters are liars for the sake of the plot, side characters are misogynists (satire), food descriptions, pet names (hers: angel, good girl, princess his: love).

➳ a/n: thank you for being so patient with me as i toiled through this fic. it wasn't an easy one! but i do think it's special because of how healing the journey was for me <3 please enjoy, let me know what you think. don't forget to check out the other fics from the "industry baby" collab hosted by the ever so lovely @jeonjcngkook and @mercurygguk !

➳ smut warnings: virgin reader, sexual tension, body worship, nipple play, marking, oral (f receiving), fingering, hair pulling, unprotected sex, jk has a big dick, praising, stomach bulge, spitting, use of the word slut, marriage kink(?) he loves his wife so much, reader wants to be bred, cumshot

Jeongguk, 26 Investigative journalist at Golden News Network Less than a mile away To whom it may concern, I am a single father looking for a wife (DM me for serious inquiries only).

“Your profile is dog shit,�� Seokjin deadpans. The cringe settles into the downward turn of his lips as he swipes through his best friend’s Tinder account. “You’d be bitchless if you weren’t hot.”

“Jin, watch your mouth.” Jeongguk shoots a deadly glare toward the older man. “There are children around.”

From the kitchen, Jeongguk cranes his neck to take a peek into the messy living room where his adopted daughter sits, criss-crossed, in front of the television. Minji is too distracted by her weekly cartoon updates to even notice the crude language.

“Minny, don’t sit too close to the TV,” he sends his daughter a stern yet gentle reminder. “Your eyeballs are gonna fall out of your head if you do.”

A frown etches itself onto Minji’s face as she scooches back on her knees.

Jeongguk returns his attention to the dinner he’s preparing tonight. A pot of homemade tomato sauce simmers on the stovetop.

In the back of his mind, he wonders if his dating profile is as terribly unappealing as Seokjin says it is. Otherwise he wouldn’t have so many notifications, right? ー Messages from girls, asking if he could be their daddy too. Jeongguk’s bio is short and straight to the point. He’s not that ugly, or so he thinks. Being a journalist is a respectable occupation with steady income. So what could be so bad about it?

Is it the fact that Jeongguk isn’t even his real name ー nothing but a fake persona to help him with his investigation? Maybe it’s because his adopted daughter doesn’t have a striking resemblance to him, and his pictures look like a shady scam.

But there’s no way that they can see through Jeongguk’s facade. After all, he’s the best spy in the agency. His specialty is deceit. It’s foolproof. There’s no reason not to believe him.

“I think they’re really into the whole dad thing,” Jeongguk nods, focusing on the sliced onions in front of him. The smell of garlic and fresh herbs permeate through the air.

“Really?” Seokjin says in feigned disbelief. He leans back against the couch, making himself comfortable. “It’s not because of the video where you’re deepthroating a deep dish pizza? Just for that, I would have gotten on my hands and knees to suck your di-.”

“Can you seriously watch your language?” Jeongguk cuts him off before pointing a knife in his direction.

Kim Seokjin may be his closest colleague, but that’s exactly where he draws the line. Seokjin is nothing more than Jeongguk’s informant. His job is to get the latest intel on all of his targets, and that’s it. He’s not here to fool around or make friends.

“We took that video in Chicago. Doesn’t it show that I’m well traveled?” Jeongguk asks with genuine curiosity. He remembers reading an article about how women love that sort of stuff.

Seokjin pinches the bridge of his nose. “It’s gonna be a long, long night,” he mutters to himself. His best friend is beyond the point of fixing, but at least he makes a good househusband.

Jeongguk wipes his hands against his frilly apron before dipping a wooden spoon into the pot. He inches the tomato sauce closer to his pursed lips as he blows on the piping hot confection. It could use more parsley.

Just when Jeongguk thought he could distract himself with cooking, he suddenly remembers the pressing problem that occupies all of his brain space: he is in desperate need of a wife. The constant reminder is taped to the front of the fridge 一 a letter from Minji’s prospective elementary school.

Dear Jeon family, Congratulations! Your child’s preliminary results indicate that he/she has passed the entrance exam at Hwa Yang Academy. Our institution carries a prestigious reputation, accepting only the nation’s brightest students. Due to your child’s outstanding academic score, we invite you to the second phase of admissions where a family interview will be conducted. Please have both parents and child present at Yeon Hwa Hall on the first of May, promptly at 10am. It is our good fortune that you chose to apply to Hwa Yang Academy. We look forward to welcoming you and your family to our renowned institution. Sincerely, Department of Admissions at Hwa Yang Academy

The fact that Minji received an interview at the top school in the nation is amazing beyond belief. Everything is going according to plan. The only problem is that Jeon Jeongguk is, in fact, bitchless.

“Remind me again, why do you need to get Minji into that school?” Seokjin furrows his brows. He’s never seen his best friend this stressed. The way that Jeongguk is willing to jump through hoops makes him feel as if he’s never wanted anything so bad in his life.

Jeongguk clenches the wooden spoon in his hand, threatening to give himself a splinter. “I have to get access to Hwa Yang,” he says, like it’s do or die. “There are families with infinite amounts of political power there, including the prime minister. The big boss suspects that they’re planning a rebellion, and I need to get close to them to expose their secrets. Obviously I can’t even touch the elite without pretending to be one myself. So I need this family to be as perfect as it can be.”

“You think you can prevent a whole rebellion and save the country if you go to a few parent association meetings? Bake a batch of cookies like a soccer mom?” Seokjin’s questions are sarcastic, but he’s not wrong. He needs to infiltrate the prime minister’s inner circle, befriend him, and uncover his government secrets. But doing so would be impossible without first securing a wife and earning acceptance into the school.

“If it comes down to making a paper mache volcano, I’ll do it.” The determination in Jeongguk’s eyes is unwavering.

“You really expect to get through the admission interview with a fake wife? I can’t even get a single date, but you think you can get married by the end of the month?” Seokjin laughs at the expense of his own heartache.

“Maybe the mommies would like you more if you weren’t so de-looshe-in-ull,” Minji chimes.

Has she been listening all along?

“Delusional?” Seokjin scoffs, fueled with exasperation. Lately, he’s had thoughts about being a kinder person, yet a part of him still believes that he deserves the last word in every conversation. “Where did you learn about that?” he queries, balling up his hands.

“Appa,” Minji replies, pointing at the man in question.

Seokjin winds his fist back as if he’s throwing a punch across the room, but he listens to the screaming voice in the back of his head. The one that tells him he’s much too pretty to get pummeled today ー that his face would look better if Jeongguk’s fist wasn’t imprinted on the surface of it. So instead of starting a fight with a five year old girl, Seokjin folds his knees against his chest, cursing under his breath. Maybe he can be the bigger person.

“So why can’t the agency send another spy operative to play house with you?” Seokjin asks, resorting to a life of civility under Jeongguk’s roof. He forces a smile through gritted teeth and returns his attention to the dating app in the palm of his hands, half-listening to his best friend.

“Well, a bunch of police officers arrested our agents. There’s only a few people left on the team. Haven’t you seen the news? The government is cracking down on espionage.” Jeongguk rolls his eyes, clenching his jaw. “They use women as their scapegoat, filling up some stupid quota for incarceration.” How can men be so ignorant and simple minded?

Ironically, Seokjin flashes his phone in front of Jeongguk’s face. “Swipe left or right, what do you think?” Yep, the minds of men are pretty simple, and Seokjin definitely didn’t hear a single word that came out of Jeongguk’s mouth.

Y/N Daycare teacher at children’s municipal library 1 mile away Critics review: ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ “Loves her emotional support characters, and will only ever love her emotional support characters” “Can’t cook to save her life, but she can top off your ramen with a fried egg” “Pros: loving and down to earth, great with kids. Cons: doesn’t know her own strength, hates mushrooms, has a quirky laugh”

“You know what? I’ll swipe right. You’ll get more matches if you do,” Seokjin suggests with a determined nod.

Jeongguk stares at his informant in disbelief, jaw slack. There’s no way this stupid app is going to land him a wife by the end of the month.

“What do you think about this guy?”

“Hard pass. I mean, look at his photos. His whole personality is about working out.”

“Okay, then what about this one?”

“Nah, he looks too stuck-up. I don’t think he can take a joke.”

“How about her? She’s pretty, right?”

“She doesn’t even have a bio! What if she’s a catfish?”

From the way your coworkers appraise these people, they act as if they’re the ones looking for a partner. Because as a matter of fact, it’s your phone in their hand, swiping away on your dating app.

It doesn’t matter if there are library books that need to be stowed away or paperwork to be filed. They pay no mind to the clock indicating that there’s 30 minutes left in the work day because finding you a significant other seems to be their only priority.

“Sujin, stop being so picky. At this rate, y/n isn’t going to get a date if you swipe left on everyone,” Yumi whines.

“Why did you make a profile for me anyways? I don’t need to be in a relationship.” The sound of your widely unpopular opinion makes the two girls look up with big, round eyes.

“Aren’t you ever lonely?” There’s a hint of pity that lingers in Yumi’s voice.

You find it quite offensive that she would think that. As much as you’d like to keep your job, you would also like to rip the rug out from beneath Yumi’s feet until she falls flat on her face. But the reality is, you really need this job. So all you do is shake your head and grit your teeth. “No, not really.”

“Life is soo much more romantic when you have someone to love.” Sujin’s unblinking eyes make you wonder if she’s being held hostage against her will. Is her boyfriend tapping into her phone, listening to all of her conversations?

“y/n, you’ve never been in a relationship before. Do you ever feel like you’re missing out on something?” There’s a pout that rests on Yumi’s lips. Her tone leaks with faux sympathy. “Hobi just got married, and Nari’s having a baby. We’re all grown up, and I don’t want you to feel left out, especially at my engagement party next weekend. It might bring out some… bitter feelings.”

You resist the urge to roll your eyes, reminding yourself that you should definitely not push Yumi down the stairs at the end of your shift. “I think I’ll be content on my own.”

“Here, look through the app for a little while. Maybe you’ll find someone that you like. Just give it a chance, okay?” Sujin hands the phone back to you. “You should really think about it. San tells me he’s been worried about you.”

Your expression falls upon hearing your younger brother’s name. Of all people, San should know that you value nothing more than your independence.

“He just wants you to be happy ー for someone to take care of you.”

Some part of you believes that Sujin is projecting her opinions and throwing your brother under the bus. “I don’t need anyone to take care of me,” you assure her. “I can be happy on my own.”

Nowadays, many people come to believe that a wedding ring is the solution to everyone’s misfortune. Supposedly, it’ll keep you safe from all things cruel in this world. They don’t seem to realize that there are problems that run much deeper than being single. It’s as if something must be inherently wrong with you if you’ve never had a partner, let alone a first kiss.

You have to admit that sometimes, their words can hurt like knives. It’s damaging to your self-esteem if you really think about it. Because surely, everyone wants to be loved and to be desired ー to be chosen. How nice would it be to lie in bed, held and comforted by something other than the warmth of your own body?

If you were to have a relationship, perhaps you could go to bookstores together and read for hours on end. The two of you could laugh and sing at the top of your lungs, dancing like fools in the dim light of the bathroom with toothbrushes tucked between molars. You could listen to ballads on the radio and finally resonate with the lyrics, plastering a goofy, lovestruck smile on your face. If you were in love, you could share childhood memories, and even the mundane details would be tucked away for safekeeping. You’d know one another's biggest fears and greatest vulnerabilities. Even when you reveal the ugliest parts of yourself, they would choose you over and over again.

If there was just one person to run their fingers across all of your curves, your dips, your scars, only to tell you that you are still the object of their affection, then perhaps you would give love a chance.

But having thought about love your entire life, and never yet to experience it, you’re certain that you’re better off on your own. Ever since you were a little kid, it’s always been you, yourself, and your grief. You’ve harbored yourself in your own bones for decades, so who knows you better than you know yourself ー truly and completely unfiltered? With your mind and wit so sharp, who will find you lovable when they discover there’s a blade where your heart is?

If you were to find a partner, there is simply no way that you can continue the life that you have. You could never return to them at the end of the night, bloodied and bruised, with no questions asked. Surely, it’s not an easy pill to swallow when you tell them that you're an assassin. There’s no sugar coating that.

Much like being a daycare teacher, being an assassin is just another job. You started living this secret identity because it earned enough money to take care of your younger brother after your parents had passed away. It put food on the table and cash toward your bills. Money would roll into your bank account by the thousands. At 18 years old, that type of money was unfathomable. But now that San is old enough to take care of himself, there’s really no need to continue this lifestyle.

Yet you pursue the chase because there’s a certain thrill that comes from seeking justice and vigilance. These monsters no longer hide beneath your brother’s bed. Instead, they lurk between the shadows ー among the alleyways and abandoned parts of town. They prey on those who are weak and exploit them for all that they are.

If the law enforcement team is never going to uphold their end of the social contract, you have to be the one to act first and eliminate them. So with every job completed, you can be certain that the world is safer one hit at a time.

But to continue being an assassin, you have to keep this secret under wraps. You’ll be forced to hide under a life of normalcy, as nothing more than a naive and innocent daycare teacher at the local library ー a background character in the story of others. In all honesty, you prefer to keep your secrets tucked away. Because to be loved is to be known, and you simply cannot let that happen.

Some people aren’t made for romance, and maybe you’re one of them. Nobody shall ever hold your heart in their hands without pricking their own flesh.

Despite all that is said and done, some part of you thinks that there’s no harm in checking out the unpromising dating app. Curiosity gets the best of you as you mindlessly swipe through all of the profiles. However, everyone you’ve come across is either too shallow, too arrogant, or too boring.

A defeated sigh slips past your lips until you come across a certain profile. You look closer at the photos, inspecting each one with great care. There are only so many pictures: one of him and his dog, a second one of him shoving a Chicago deep dish down his throat, and another with a young child. Tattoos litter across his sun-kissed skin, and piercings scatter his handsome face ー beautiful in the most unorthodox ways.

His bio reads: “To whom it may concern, I am a single father looking for a wife (DM me for serious inquiries only).”

Have you seen this man before? Could it be… him?

The longer that you stare at his profile, the more concerned you become. At this rate, you’ve created an entire fantasy about a relationship with this stranger, and now you’re planning the dinner menu for your wedding. But there’s no way that you’d actually consider swiping right and messaging him, right? You don’t even want a boyfriend! This man could be joking for all you know.

When the clock strikes the hour, a chime resounds through the air. You shake your head, finally coming to your senses. You slip your device into your pocket, forgetting about the man who lives in your phone.

Jeongguk. His name is Jeongguk.

“Appaaa!” There’s a piercing cry that slices through the air as the little girl begs for her father’s affection. From behind the bookshelves, the curious librarian pokes her head between the gaps to catch a glimpse of the commotion.

“Don’t let go, please, please, pleeease!” The young child slips her tiny hand into her father’s, shaking it back and forth with a sense of urgency.

Jeongguk stands frozen in place. The apples of his cheeks darken into a rosy hue. It’s a little embarrassing to be that parent ー the one who can’t control his child’s outbursts in the middle of a public space, let alone a library, an academic sanctuary that promises peace and quiet.

With a heavy, exhausted sigh, Jeongguk crouches down to meet his daughter’s innocent expression. “Minny, I promise you, I’m not going anywhere. I ask that you give me ten minutes, okay?” His voice is firm and assertive. It’s a little rough around the edges, but it can’t be helped. He speaks in a way that commands attention from the room. This is the only way he knows how to demand respect from his subordinates.

“I just need to pick up a few things. We can go home afterwards, so be a good girl until then,” Jeongguk bargains. “You can go to the playroom, and the nice librarian will take care of you.”

Minji squeezes her tiny hands into fists, and she dies on the inside. Tears form in the corner of her eyes. Even the slightest change in her father’s tone makes her believe that she’s done something wrong. Her worst nightmare flashes before her eyes.

Would her father abandon if she were to misbehave? Or worse, would he dare to return her to the orphanage she was adopted from? What if her biggest fear comes to fruition? After all, it’s not uncommon for parents to realize far too late that kids are too difficult to handle. Then, they’re left hoping and praying for some kind of return policy for their own flesh and blood.

Minji’s eyes become glossy at the thought of it, unlocking a hidden memory from the past, but she refuses to let herself falter underneath his piercing stare. Yet no matter how hard she tries to keep the tears at bay, her emotions get the best of her, and her resolve crumbles into smithereens. After all, she’s only five years old.

It appears that the authoritative approach only works in the combat room, but perhaps not with a five year old girl. So Jeongguk lowers his defenses and drops to his knees. He wipes the tears away with the pad of his thumb, and she sniffles even harder when he comforts her.

There’s something about the little girl’s demeanor that reminds Jeongguk of himself when he was younger. Perhaps it’s the need for her father’s approval ー the desire to please and put others above herself. Maybe it’s her tenacity for standing tall and strong despite the dull ache in her tender heart.

“You can let it all out,” he reaffirms. A beat of silence passes by while he caresses her cheek, allowing the tears to fall. “You ’kay now?”

Minji reluctantly agrees with the slow nod of her head, but she avoids her father’s strong gaze, staring down at her shoes, sullen. When the warmth of her father’s hand disappears, another sniffle racks through her body.

Normally, Minji is never one to throw a tantrum, but what does Jeongguk know? Just when he thought he had a hang of the whole “parenting” thing, he’s thrown into a loop. In spite of Jeongguk’s confident demeanor, he genuinely doesn’t know the first thing about raising a child, let alone a daughter.

In his past ten years of being an undercover spy, he has diffused nuclear bombs and hacked into government files, but nothing has ever prepared him for being a single parent. Yet as a man and a father, he needs to do better. He needs to be better. The least he can do is try.

Jeongguk raises a hand between their bodies, extending his pinky for her to interlock, pledging his vow. “I’ll be back for you in ten minutes, I swear.” He reassures his daughter before planting a kiss on the crown of her head. He crosses his fingers, silently praying that she won’t cry again.

A dribble of snot falls from Minji’s nose. Her eyelashes are soaked. A dramatic hiccup heaves through her tiny, five-year old body.

Jeongguk can feel the venomous judgment of everyone around him. They must think that he’s utterly unfit to be a father, and they would be right.

They would wonder: What kind of child causes a scene in public, screaming, crying, and begging her father not to abandon her? How can he send her to the playroom where there’s nothing but disgusting germs and snotty kids? Is he seriously going to hand off his responsibilities to a total stranger in an underfunded public institution?

They can easily write Jeongguk off as a villain ー a big, scary man with piercings and tattoos. They could hurl accusations at him with no regard as to where they land. All it takes is a quick glance and a first impression (a false one at that). Obviously, they would think he’s someone who’s not built for child rearing because of the slits in his eyebrows and the gel in his hair. There must not be a gentle bone that resides in his big, burly body, but for that, they would be wrong.

The worst part about this whole “father” situation is not necessarily the judgment of others. He is familiar with scrutiny, and he knows it all too well. Rather, it’s that Jeongguk was never particularly fond of having children of his own. Some people are not cut out for fatherhood, and that’s simply the truth of the matter. But that doesn’t mean he won't do his best. He can’t let Minji down. He won’t.

As if Minji could read his thoughts, she raises her arms, begging to be picked up. Her sniffles have long died down.

Jeongguk takes a deep breath before caving into her wishes and hooking an arm around her knees. Minji’s grimy, little hands cling around his neck, and an inaudible, celebratory noise escapes from her lips.

Minji nuzzles her head beneath her father’s chin. She chatters about the incomprehensible things that only five year olds would understand. She is an enigma beyond her father’s own understanding, but he is determined to learn the ins and outs of this child no matter what it takes, even if it kills him.

After Jeongguk had finally dropped Minji off at the library’s playroom, he peruses the non-fiction shelves in search of answers.

How the hell is he going to raise a child?

He thumbs through all of the top-rated parenting books available, skimming through the blurbs, trying to absorb enough information to pass judgment on them. Because if he’s going to follow parenting advice from someone else, they better be successful in their trials. Jeongguk doesn’t want to be the one to fuck up his own child’s brain chemistry.

There’s a sudden tap on his shoulder that helps Jeongguk to escape from the existential dread of fatherhood.

“Excuse me, sir.” A soft voice sounds from behind him. Your breath catches onto the nape of his neck.

“How did this woman sneak up on me without me noticing? Maybe I’m losing my touch.” Jeongguk wonders, shocked by his carelessness. Because from behind, he didn’t hear the fall of a single footstep. The air was still and undisturbed until he felt your presence a moment too late. Normally, he would have surveilled everyone within a mile radius before they could even think about approaching him. But you managed to do it so effortlessly. He’s never met a woman so stealthy.

“I think this belongs to you.” Your voice interrupts his stream of consciousness.

The man before you turns around, and surely, he is a sight for sore eyes 一 a little intimidating to say the least. There’s a silver ring that protrudes from his bottom lip, contrasting against the subtle pink. Even more metal resides against the surface of his skin, a piercing on either side of his eyebrow. There’s a scar that sits on his cheekbone, and you can’t help but wonder how it got there.

You’ve only ever admired this stranger from afar. Most days, he never fails to browse the children’s manhwa section with a talkative child latched onto his leg. Up close, he looks like a tough guy, but the moment he sees his adorable daughter clinging onto your dress, the hard look in his eyes softens. A dimple carves itself into the curve of his cheek.

“Who do we have here?” His typical inflection changes into something slightly more playful. But he uses it to mask his exhausted state.

“Appa, appa! Miss y/l/n is so pretty, don’t you think?” Minji says enthusiastically.

A flame ignites beneath the surface of Jeongguk’s skin. He grows flustered under the little girl’s stare.

Your eyes widen. You’ve never been considered “pretty” by conventional standards. It’s not often that you hear those words, if ever, really.

“Minji, everyone has their own opinions, but you shouldn’t push your beliefs onto someone else,” you begin as a form of damage control. “I’m so sorry, but she ran up to me, saying she lost her father. She seemed so distressed, and I thought she was going to burst into tears if she couldn’t find you.”

Jeon Jeongguk has never known peace before. Minji is just as sneaky and conniving as her father; she’s a filthy liar just like him.

“No, no, it’s okay, don’t apologize. Her attachment issues have grown by the day,” Jeongguk replies, shaking his head. He wears a bashful smile, cheeks tinged with pink. “Minny, do you remember what I taught you?” He crouches down to pick his daughter up by the waist, squeezing her sides.

“Don’t sleep with wet hair otherwise I might get hippo-pot-a-therm-ia?” Minji recalls, butchering the pronunciation.

Jeongguk bites the inside of his cheek, shaking his head. “No, the other thing.”

“Minny doesn’t have to eat anything that she doesn’t want to?”

“I never said that.” A look of disapproval crosses her father’s features.

“Drawing mustaches on sleepy people is wrong unless it’s Seokjin samchon?”

He scrunches his nose, nodding his head from side to side as though he’s contemplating. “Well… yes, but no. Try again. The thing about beauty.”

“Oh! Beauty is something that comes from the inside!” Minji’s eyes light up upon recognition.

“Exactly, it comes from inside.” Jeongguk reminds her. He presses his pointer finger against Minji’s sternum for emphasis. Upon his touch, a sweet giggle falls from her lips.

“But you do think it’s true, don’t you?” Minji asks once again, persistent. “Miss y/l/n is really pretty.”

The blush on his cheeks grow a shade darker. “Minny, of course I think she’s pretty. I thought we talked about this.” Although he lowers his voice like it’s a secret, you can still hear every single word.

Minji giggles to herself, hiding her face behind her hands.

Jeongguk has always known your face, but never your name. “Miss y/l/n, right?”

It sounds odd to hear your title from a grown man, but you laugh it off with a chuckle. “Yeah, that’s what the kids at the daycare call me. It’s just y/n though.”

Jeongguk readjusts his daughter in his arms before reaching for a handshake. “I’m just Jeongguk.” It doesn’t strike how little his name means to him. Of course it’s just an alias for the sake of the mission. He picked it on a whim, but it suits him more than he had thought. Jeon Jeongguk, pillar of the nation. The lie tumbles out of his lips so naturally, and he doesn't have to think twice.

His eyes lower into crescent moons as the corner of his lips curve into a smile, something akin to fondness. A shallow dimple finds its way onto his cheeks.

Dammit. He’s cute.

You reach forward, cupping your hand around his in a reverent greeting. He holds you gently as if there’s a butterfly that had landed on the tip of his fingers. It contrasts against your strong grip.

Observant as ever, Jeongguk notices that there’s no sign of a ring on your hand. He digs through the arsenal of intel that’s locked up inside his brain. Thanks to Seokjin’s sticky fingers, he managed to spend an entire weekend studying the most recent census information, getting to know the profiles of everyone in the city (just in case). There has to be some information about you stored in his head.

“y/n… Where did I see that name before?” He thinks to himself, mentally sifting through all the files he’s read. “Ah, I remember now. File #901: y/l/n, y/n. Never married, never divorced. Orphaned at the age of eighteen. She has one younger brother. Both of them have clean records ー never been in trouble with the police, never even received a speeding ticket.”

“Jeongguk…” you murmur his name as if you’re testing the waters. “I know. I’ve seen you around before.”

Minji might have accidentally let it slip that he’s the man who's been her appa ‘for a very long time.’ She never seemed to mention that she’s adopted. Instead, she continues to describe her father as someone super handsome and very single.

“Really?” Although he’s noticed you plenty of times before, he’s surprised that you recognize him. Jeongguk doesn’t like drawing attention. He supposes that lately, it’s been difficult when his daughter attracts a lot of eyes.

“Most of the time, you wander through the aisles, half-dead like a zombie, with a cup of coffee in your hand.” You lean forward, speaking in a hushed tone. “You really aren’t allowed to bring drinks into the library, but my coworkers let it slide because they think you’re handsome.”

Perhaps you’ve overshared because Jeongguk stares at you blankly, taken aback by the news.

“Here’s another secret.” You beckon him closer once again, speaking barely above a whisper. “You should be careful about reading parenting books. You’ll end up stressed about what to do if it doesn’t work, and you’ll feel like a failure by the end of it.”

His eyes widen in surprise. He had hoped that the parenting books would put an end to his sleepless nights. “What do you think I should do then? I don’t know how to deal with this monster right here.” He ruffles Minji’s hair in endearment.

“Hey!” Minji shouts in defense of herself.

“That’s not to say you shouldn’t read any parenting books. It’s just trial and error,” you shrug. “As much as you don’t want to hear it, there’s really no right answer.”

Jeongguk drops his shoulders, slightly disappointed. The defeated look on his face is a feeling you can sympathize with.

“But if it helps, I think it’s important that children need a little bit of softness every now and then, especially because the world is so cruel.” You flash him a gentle smile, urging him to lighten up on his daughter. He needs to stop pretending that raising a child is anything like the military or the spy academy.

Upon hearing your conversation, there’s a mischievous sparkle that appears in Minji’s eyes. “Miss y/l/n, do you wanna be my eomma?”

You stare blankly at her, blinking as though you are processing her question. The words die on your tongue, yet you cock your head to the side, meeting the little girl’s gaze. “Y- your eomma?” you reiterate, startled.

“Pleaseee? I’m so lonely with no eomma,” Minji pouts, melodramatic as ever. She puts her hand on her forehead as if she’s feigning an illness.

“Jeongguk, do you happen to be looking for a wife?”

“Is this your way of asking me out?” He leans forward, inclined to hear your proposal.

You wonder if this is a bad time to mention his Tinder profile. It could be a little awkward knowing that you’ve also made an account on that wretched app. There’s nothing inherently embarrassing about wanting to find love through modern dating, but why is it so hard to admit it?

You weigh your options in your head, but Jeongguk beats you to it.

“Because if you did 一 ya’ know 一 ask me out, I would have said-” His words are cut short.

“You know what? I’m sorry if I was being too forward-” Mentally, you want to smack yourself on the head.

Jeongguk didn’t mention anything about a girlfriend, let alone a wife. He has no idea that you’ve seen his Tinder before. You never even swiped. You never matched.

After you found his profile, you tucked your phone away and refused to open the app again. The blissful state of not knowing is better than playing the waiting game. Will he swipe, will he not? Will he message you and jumpstart some epic romance?

You decide to tell him the truth and swallow your pride before coming across as a complete weirdo wrapped up in her delusions.

“It’s just that… the other day, my friends made a dating profile for me because they’re worried I’ll be single for the rest of my life. I came across your account, and I thought you looked familiar. So I just wanted to know if you’re actually looking for a wife because I swear, I’ll do it.”

Jeongguk has never been this close to making a breakthrough, and he thinks he’s half in love with you. “Are you being serious?” he wonders as a precaution. “Don’t lie to me because I really need this to be a dream come true right now.”

His daughter reaches forward to pinch his cheeks. Jeongguk winces at the pain, and he’s certain that this moment is real.

“Do you want me to get down on one knee?” Your face is devoid of any banter, eyes fixed on Jeongguk as if you’re genuinely offering yourself to him. “Why do you need a wife? Tax money? Green card? Ex who won’t leave you alone?”

“It’s complicated,” Jeongguk begins.

“Trust me, I know it's complicated when I see it.” There’s a challenging look in your eyes, urging him to continue.

“Well, the other day, Minny passed the entrance exam for Hwa Yang Academy. Now, the board has to conduct an interview with the family, but they said they would want both parents to be there.”

“You can’t tell them that you’re a single father?”

“I think it’ll hurt her chances of getting accepted,” he explains. “I want my daughter to attend a good school. Her late mother would have wanted the same thing for her.”

“Appa said lying is wrong, but he’s so good at it,” Minji thinks to herself.

“Do you really think that I’m fit for the role?” You’ve never really had a penchant for acting or playing pretend. Lying, on the other hand, that is your strong suit.

“I don’t mean to be too forward, but I think you’re perfect.” Jeongguk speaks his truth without any hesitation. He looks at you with such sweet and delicate eyes. “You seem to be great with children, and Minny adores you already.”

You eye him as if you’re considering his offer, but you’ve already made up your mind. “I’ll do it, but only if you do a favor for me too. Are you free next weekend?”

“Next weekend?” Jeongguk raises an eyebrow. It’s starting to make sense why you agreed to do this in the first place. You need something in exchange, quid pro quo.

“My friends are throwing an engagement party. They’re worried about me all the time because I’m single, but I thought I would lay it to rest if I told them I finally had a boyfriend, or at least someone I’m talking to.” Your speech gets faster and faster with every word that comes out of your mouth. “I know it sounds crazy, Iー”

“I’ll do it.”

You stare blankly at him, unsure if you heard correctly, but a smile continues to creep onto the corners of your lips. “You will?”

Jeongguk reaches forward, gently taking your hand in his. “It would be an honor to be your boyfriend,” he says, even if it’s just pretend. “And an even bigger honor to be your husband.”

“y/n!”

You don’t hear your name being called relentlessly until your co-workers are shouting for your attention. Their words fall upon deaf ears.

As usual, they had been gossiping about their boyfriends and their weekend plans. You checked out of the conversation the moment Yumi opened her mouth and uttered her fiancé’s name, resisting the urge to gag.

You look up from your lap, slightly too distracted. There’s a small, maroon stain and a rip in the skirt of your dress. It’s not easy keeping your clothes in pristine condition when you’re constantly running toward danger. You’re lost in thought, wondering how much the tailor shop will charge you for sewing it back together.

“What are you doing this weekend? There’s a new episode of that drama you like, right? Are you going to order delivery again?” Yumi assumes. “You know, you should step outside from time to time. Maybe you’ll find a nice person to date if Tinder doesn’t pan out.”

“Actually, I have plans after work,” you announce before returning to inspect the damage on your dress.

“With who? Did you meet someone on the app?” The cadence of Sujin’s voice is airy, shocked in disbelief.

“I’m meeting up with some guy.” You try not to make it a big deal, but these girls always blow it out of proportion. “I didn’t meet him from the app though.”

“You’re seeing someone? Who?! You can’t just drop the news and expect us not to ask for the details!” Sujin shouts.

“He was at the library the other day, and he asked me out. He’s the one with the tattoos ー y’all would recognize him if you saw him,” you explain. “Minji is his daughter.”

“The guy with the coffee?” Everyone collectively gasps upon connecting the dots. “Him? How did you manage to pull that?!”

Ouch. That hurts.

“I would dump my fiancé in a heartbeat if the coffee guy could blow my back out,” Yumi confesses.

How could she be so shallow? She was just talking about how much she loved her fiancé. Is he really that disposable? Besides, is Jeongguk nothing more than the coffee guy? A pretty face who’s made for a one night stand? You’re starting to think that people don’t actually value their relationships. They just want a partner for the sake of having one.

There’s a sudden chime that resounds through the air, pulling you out of your thoughts. The service bell at the front desk had been struck. It’s odd considering most people exited the library by now, knowing that it closes in ten minutes.

You all poke your head through the doorway to catch a glimpse of the patron. Their eyes widen in surprise when they see the coffee guy standing at the front desk. He stands tall and proud with a military stance, a head above everyone else. There’s a bouquet of pink camellias resting in his hand in place of his typical americano.

“Jeongguk? I thought we were meeting at the cafe.” Perhaps you remembered the details of the conversation wrong.

When you speak his name out loud, all the girls shift their gaze to one another. Could it really be true that you’re seeing a man?

“I thought it would be nice if I could surprise you, and we’d walk there together.” He flashes a smile that sends an arrow straight through the heart (and through those of your coworkers). For a second, you think that Yumi might just faint.

He’s handsome as ever, just as you recall. But today, there’s something that’s slightly out of place. There’s a bandage that rests on the bridge of his nose. It’s pink with Sanrio characters plastered all over it ー Hello Kitty and My Melody. There’s something about it that makes him even more endearing.

You try to stifle a giggle as you shoot him an apology. “Sorry, can you hang around for a few more minutes? I have some things to do before closing.”

“Take your time, angel.” Jeongguk says. Crinkles begin to form at the corner of his eyes as the curve of his lips overtake him.

You have to admit that the pet name made your heart flutter. He plays into the role of a sweet boyfriend pretty accurately. It’s all part of the act.

Sujin closes the door to the office. The girls break into squeals. They playfully hit your shoulder in disbelief, elbowing your sides. “I can’t believe it! y/n is going out with a man?!”

“And he’s hot!”

You shake your head before returning to your work station, ignoring their cheers. But you can’t help the subtle smile that reaches your lips. Maybe the girls will finally leave you the fuck alone.

“I’m so sorry for the wait.” You apologize as you approach Jeongguk, looking like a disheveled mess after an 8 hour shift. Your blouse is slightly wrinkled, and you’re certain there’s residue left behind from all the marker stains the kids had carelessly drawn on you. Your arm is full of stickers, and you’ll have to remember to peel them off later.

In the daycare, Jeongguk is propped on top of a bean bag chair that is much too small for his body. There’s a manhwa that rests in his lap. It’s the one his daughter can’t stop talking about.

“I got here ten minutes early anyways.” He places the book on the table before clambering to his feet. “Oh yeah, and these are for you.” He passes the bouquet of camellias.

You raise your hands, not really sure how to accept the gift. You’re not the type of girl to receive flowers, love poems, or pretty things. Nobody has ever pursued you in that way. All you ever receive are cursory glances and awkward smiles, but never anything as beautiful as this.

He inches the flowers a little closer to you, urging you to take it.

You pull the bouquet to your nose, taking a whiff of the sweet scent. “These are really pretty. Thank you for that.” You motion for him to wait just a moment longer as you place the flowers into a vase.

Through the porthole of the office door, you can see the girls squeal and jump around in unison.

“Are you ready? Should we head out?” Jeongguk’s lips curl into a boyish smile.

You nod, sharply turning your heels in an attempt to hide the fluster of your face. Before you could take a step forward, you’re pulled to a halt. There’s a tug on your arm that spins you around. Jeongguk’s fingers wrap around your wrist, pulling you close.

“Wait one sec,” his breath fans across your face. “You have some chalk on your cheek. Can I-?” He raises his hand, tentatively learning forward.

Heat rushes to the surface of your skin, yet you nod your head, giving into his request. “Is this part of the act?” you wonder out loud, low enough for Jeongguk to hear.

“Only if you want it to be.” His deep voice sends a shiver down your spine.

As he leans forward to wipe the dust off your cheek, your throat dries. You freeze, attempting to avoid his gaze. You’re not certain whether you’ll explode upon gazing into his dark brown eyes.

Instead, you keep your sight locked straight ahead. It’s a terrible idea considering his strong chest is right in front of you. The top two buttons of his white collared shirt are undone, and the space between his pecs are exposed, a necklace dangling in between. There’s a chance that you might die staring at it, so you accept the risk of embarrassing yourself and glance at his visage instead.

“There’s my pretty girl,” Jeongguk says, dusting off the chalk.

A wave of butterflies swarm in the pit of your stomach, and your mind goes blank. You have no idea how to respond to such a compliment, and you’re unable to when your throat constricts. Your body warms, hyper aware of his palm on your cheek and the one wrapped around your wrist. Your one free hand that is not occupied by his clasp shoots up, hovering over the bandage plastered on his nose.

“What happened here?” The words splutter out of your mouth, trying to say something. Anything. Perhaps your anxiety would be less noticeable if you could just act natural ー If you could stop standing there without a single thought in your head.

“Bumped into a wall,” Jeongguk chuckles. It’s a blatant lie. He could never be this clumsy. In actuality, he had failed to duck during a sparring match with another spy at the agency. Fuck Kim Mingyu and his stupidly beefy arms. “Minny picked the bandage for me.”

“You mean you didn’t choose to wear the Hello Kitty? I think it suits you.” As soon as you graze the bridge of his nose, his laughter turns into a dramatic groan. Soft murmurs of ‘ow, ow’ fall from his lips.

“‘m sorry, ‘m sorry!” You apologize.

His other hand gently grasps your palm, pulling it away from his sprained injury. Maybe your dating profile was right when it mentioned you don’t know your own strength.

“Don’t worry, let’s just hope that Minny is okay,” Jeongguk remarks. “She insisted on wearing a matching bandaid because ‘if appa’s hurt, then Minny’s hurt.’ Kind of like a voodoo doll.”

Subconsciously, the thought of Minny wearing a matching bandage despite being perfectly fine forces your lips into a smile.

“Should we head out now?” Jeongguk leans closer, voice barely above a whisper. “Can I hold your hand? Give your friends a real show to watch?” It’s as if your hand wasn’t already in his.

You nod your head, suddenly remembering that this is all an act. You’re reminded of the girls crowded around the office door, peeking through the small window to catch a glimpse of the action.

Jeongguk’s hand glides down from your palm and between your fingers, lacing them together. A breath hitches in your throat, and you have to remind yourself to breathe. You can hear the high pitched screams from behind when the girls are convinced you’ve stepped far away enough. But it isn't as loud as the sound of your heart beating out of your chest.

The two of you make your way to the cafe, walking side by side, hand-in-hand, occasionally bumping shoulders when you walk a little too close.

“How was your day? I realized I never asked you what you do for work, and I don’t really know much about you in general,” you chuckle, slightly embarrassed. “I thought we would at least have our first kiss by now if we were married.” There’s a hint of sarcasm in your tone, one that Jeongguk easily recognizes because his informant, Seokjin, is nothing but shits and giggles.

“We would have done more than kissing, but we can start slow.” The corners of his lips curl into a playful grin. His words make you freeze, but it doesn’t seem to faze him.

With your hands linked together, Jeongguk is pulled back by your halted movements. He turns to face you, displaying his pretty eye-smile. “I’m a journalist,” he says. “I write investigative articles when they don’t ask me to cover silly politics.”

Although it’s not completely true, it’s not totally false at the same time. He writes exposé articles based on the intel he uncovers from his spy missions. The articles that he writes are written under an anonymous name, obviously so he can’t be tracked for exposing highly classified information. Nobody should ever know that he’s digging into the lives of corrupt politicians. Jeongguk might never see the light of day if word gets out.

“My routine is pretty consistent,” he explains. “I did some research for my article, wrote a few thousand words in my drafts before deciding to scrap the entirety of it, and I picked up Minny from kindergarten. I asked my friend to babysit her while I’m away tonight.”

Jeongguk wants to scrub his tongue after admitting that Seokjin is his “friend.”

“What about you? How’s your life at the library?” Jeongguk asks.

You describe the events that spiraled today as the two of you head inside the coffee shop and place your orders. “Well, the girls seemed convinced that we’re on a date,” you chuckle.

Jeongguk gasps. His hand clenches against his chest as if he’s wounded by your words. “You mean to tell me this isn’t a date? I thought we had something special.” He feigns exasperation. “You are my wife, after all, aren’t you?”

You don’t care to admit how amusing it is to hear the word wife coming from him. Despite the smile that plays on your lips, you shake your head no.

“This isn’t a real date,” you explain in denial. Nobody has ever asked you out, and you’ll be damned if the first time is just pretend. “But I guess this is good practice, especially when the stakes are higher for the interview.”

“Hmm… practice.” A crinkle forms between Jeongguk’s brows, lost in thought.

“I have to admit that I don’t have a lot of experience with dating, and that’s why we have to practice.” You shake your head, flustered. “Actually, I’ve never even been in a relationship.”

“Why’s that?” He asks the age-old question.

“I’m not really the type that people fall for.” You tuck your head between your shoulders, offering a shrug. “I’m quiet ー Not really good with people. I’m a bit of a late bloomer. I spent a lot of my youth taking care of my younger brother.” That’s only the jist of it. You don’t bother getting into the nitty gritty details. Being a full-time assassin isn’t necessarily “first-date appropriate” conversation.

“How many partners have you had?” You bounce back, diverting the attention away from you.

“Just one, my wife who passed. We had been together since we were in high school.” The lie seeps through his teeth so easily. It’s terrifying. But the less you know, the better.

The thought of being Jeongguk’s first “girlfriend” since the passing of his wife makes you incredibly nervous. Upon seeing the sullen avoidance in his eyes, you don’t bring it up again. Instead, you try to lighten the mood.

The two of you fall into a routine of volleying questions back and forth. If you’re planning to convince everyone that you’re husband and wife, you’re going to have to know more than just one another’s (supposed) names and (supposed) professions.

You start with the easy stuff. “Where did you grow up?”

“Busan. I miss the sound of the ocean, but I don’t mind the city as long as Minny goes to the best school in the country. What about you?”

“I grew up in a town so small you wouldn’t be able to find it on the map, but it’s not far from the capital.”

“Cryptic, I like it.” A grin forms onto the corners of lips before he takes a sip of his coffee.

Over the next hour, you learn that Jeongguk, as robust and intimidating as he looks, is warm and gentle. His favorite thing about being a father is having someone to love and protect. To him, Minji is a bundle of joy who makes his day brighter despite the hurdles that come with being a parent. He would do anything in the world to give his child the life he never quite had.

Likewise, having lost his parents at a young age, he learned to lead a fulfilling life all on his own. Instead of letting it bog him down, he clings onto the simple things for respite, searching for happiness in every corner of the universe.

He loves the rain and how it fleetingly smells like the warm and muggy summers of his hometown. Although he doesn’t experience the monsoon season quite like he used to, he loves to watch Minji splash around in her yellow rain boots. His favorite time of day is golden hour, especially when the fluffy white clouds are tinted with orange hues, reminding him of his first dog, Gureum.

Jeongguk has a slight addiction to black coffee, even if it makes his stomach hurt on the odd occasions (and you suggest he tries tea instead). He likes his eggs scrambled, and he prefers waffles over pancakes. He has plenty of awful habits like singing karaoke at four in the morning followed by cooking a pot of instant ramen to satiate his brutal cravings (yes, his food preferences are vital to your understanding of who Jeongguk is as a person, down to his core).

He tells you about his trip to Chicago some months ago where he definitely deepthroated a deep dish pizza after being dared by Seokjin. As much as he loved traveling, he was easily home-sick and desperately missing his fix of samgyeopsal. In fact, he tells you he would love to invite you over one day so he can make you a meal. And thank God for that because you are not handy in the kitchen whatsoever.

You learn that not necessarily all of his tattoos have meaning. The tiger is an emblem of his country while the tiger lily is his birth flower, and it is a silent, desperate plea to be loved. There’s a silly emoji on his middle finger just because he thinks it’s funny. He hates having to cover it up when he goes to work (tattoos may not have been the smartest idea knowing that he has to keep his identity a secret, but the damage is already done), and he’s certain that everybody judges him for the ink on his arms.

“As long as you like your tattoos, it doesn’t matter what anyone else thinks.” You offer him a warm smile as though nothing could ever hurt him. God, how he wishes that was true.

For some reason, Jeongguk doesn’t know how to react to your words. He’s only ever been told to cover up his skin as if he has something to be ashamed of.

In exchange for his stories, you trade Jeongguk pieces of your life. How your favorite memory from youth was when you had taken the city bus an hour and a half down to the beach with your brother, San, where you’d build sand castles on the brink of collapse. Sometimes, the smell of salt air and the longing for August still lingers to this day.

You tell him about your attempt at joining the knitting club so you could make cute sweaters and vests. They were never perfect. But at least they kept your brother warm during the winters. Besides, you had fun playing dress-up with him. Jeongguk finds that perhaps the boldest thing you’ve ever done is bleach your hair strawberry blonde, only for it to turn out orange.

His laughter blooms through his chest when you tell him about the time you almost set the microwave on fire. Your mom never told you that aluminum foil doesn’t belong in there, and you had to learn that the hard way. That’s probably why you should never set foot in the kitchen again. Nevertheless, you made mistake after mistake just so that San could have food on the table everyday after school. At least you’ve perfected the art of cutting fruit at this point ー no cooking skills required.

Although the two of you talk for what seems like hours, you can’t help but think there’s so much more to this man, and he’s unwilling to share. It doesn’t necessarily bother you because you, too, have secrets of your own. You can’t expect him to reveal everything about his life, even if he never does.

It’s well into the evening when Jeongguk walks you home. The path is quiet. It’s illuminated by the dim light of the street lamps. It feels like a scene from a movie you’ve once watched ー the origin of all your teenage fantasies. But this is real. You’re just a girl, standing in front of a boy, and that’s where it all begins.

“y/n?” The way he says your name brings you to a halt. His voice, although usually confident, is timid and uncertain. “I’ll see you tomorrow, right? We still have a lot to talk about.” He looks at you with stars in his eyes, although none of them belong to you, and they could never be yours.

Your lips press together in a tight line, nodding your head in affirmation. As you bid your goodbyes, you wonder if it would be inappropriate to give him a hug. After all, you’ve only just met the day prior, and this is nothing but pretend. Yet how will you ever grow accustomed to the touch of your husband?

Your arms remain crossed over your chest. You look down at your shoes, kicking a loose pebble at the front of your door, contemplating.

But he reaches for your hand, lightly grasping around your fingers. You jolt back as if he set your nerves aflame. Your gaze lifts toward his eyes, but it quickly lowers as Jeongguk descends down to one knee.

Your heart pounds against your chest, and you pray that he cannot hear it.

“I’m sorry I don’t have a proper ring…” He begins. “I hope you can accept this for now, and I swear I’ll get a diamond on your hand one day ー As big as you want.”

Jeongguk carefully pulls a small metal band from his pocket. It can easily be confused for the end piece of a keychain ー perhaps it’s something that his daughter had left behind in his coat, never to be remembered. But for Jeongguk, he knows perfectly well that it’s the pin from a grenade he had tossed the week prior on an escape mission. He slides the ring onto your finger, and although it is slightly too large, you wouldn’t have it any other way.

“I may not have been your first choice of a partner, and for all I know, I could have been dead last, but thank you for sticking by me. I swear I’ll take care of you. I’ll hold your heart with gentle hands, and I won’t ever let it break.”

After all, this is just pretend.

But for some reason, his voice sounds so earnest, and you almost believe him. To be frank, you never really cared about lavish weddings and seven carat diamonds. If you were to ever look for a companion, all you could ask for is an honest partner.

Too bad Jeon Jeongguk is anything but that.

Throughout the next week, you spend more and more time getting to know your new “boyfriend.” Because of this, you have to put your side hustle on pause and constantly decline assignments on your burner phone. You certainly wouldn’t want Jeongguk to overhear your plans to murder while he sits pretty beside you, waiting to hear about your day ー your hopes, your dreams, and anything else that’s on your mind. But it would be a shame if you cut your dates early, only to spend less than a second to put a bullet through your enemies’ heads.

You’d have much more fun with Jeongguk instead. Because he tends to plan the cutest surprise dates, and they’re so incredibly thoughtful. Sometimes, Minji would accompany your dates when Seokjin can’t babysit (he’s too busy trying to find his own baby mama so he can prove Minji wrong). Nevertheless, Minji adores the time that you spend together because it feels like you’re a real family.

The three of you would drive to the movies, play boardgames, and eat ice cream for dinner. Jeongguk had even taken you both to the annual carnival that you desperately wanted to check out. He wasn’t fond of going because those claw machines and arcade games are absolute scams! Yet you caught the smug grin on his face when he finally won a stuffed bunny after downing fifty bucks. He was just so addicted to the thrill of nearly winning: “I could have gotten that!”

During your dates, you would laugh for hours on end, but by the end of the night, Minji would fall asleep on her father’s shoulder. That’s usually your cue to head home. Sometimes, you think that he might kiss you goodnight, but he never does. His lips only ever brush your knuckles like the gentleman that he is.

…

True to his word, Jeongguk invites you over for dinner the following Friday.

When you arrive at his apartment, you are instantly the worst houseguest known to mankind. Your umbrella is dripping wet from the pouring rain, effectively ruining Jeongguk’s wooden floors. However, that’s not the problem that Jeongguk has with you. The problem is that you’re unable to stop laughing at Jeongguk’s attire.

Surely, your parents had taught you to be kind, especially to your hosts. Well, when Jeongguk swings the door open, revealing a frilly apron, something akin to what your grandmother would wear, you couldn’t help it! A picture of My Melody is stamped onto the chest, staring straight into your soul.

It isn’t lost on you ー the irony of a big, strong man, no doubt subjected to dress up in his daughter’s choice of clothing.

“Don’t laugh at me,” Jeongguk pouts, tilting his head like a puppy.

You stifle your giggle behind a tight lipped smile, but you’re so close to bursting at the seams. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

After placing your shoes at the door, Jeongguk leads you into his humble abode. He takes the bottle of chardonnay from your hands, thanking you for the gift, and places it onto the dining table.

“Dinner should be ready in an hour,” he informs you.

“I know I’m not very useful in the kitchen, but if you need help-”

Before you can even think about lifting a finger, Jeongguk is quick to suggest an alternative. “No, don't worry, you’re my guest. Just relax, okay? Minny is in the living room. You should spend time with her.”

In the adjacent room, Minji is crouched over her study material. Her worksheets spread across the coffee table. Each question covers a different subject: basic biology, political science, religion and ethics, foreign language, etc. You never quite realized how much pressure children face in the education system.

After all, you were never really concerned with grades. You never thought about applying to the top school in the nation. In fact, your grades had fallen down a slippery slope by the time you were in high school. Rather, all of your time was dedicated to earning money and supporting your family.

When you sit beside Minji, she beckons you closer before you can even greet her. “I’m dying. Help me,” she pleads with wide eyes. You look down to see her math homework ー fractions, Minji’s sworn enemy.

“Appa wants me to study, but he won’t give me the answers,” Minji whines.

You can’t help but chuckle. “Minny, you have to figure out the answers on your own if you want to do well.”

The sound of your advice makes her drop her head on the table with a soft thump.

“Here, let’s do a few questions together,” you suggest.

Try as you might, you only manage to complete half of the assignment. Minji huffs, slightly frustrated when she doesn’t understand the concept.

You pat her back, consoling the small child. “Once you eat dinner, you’ll have more brain energy. Maybe you just need a break.”

A lightbulb goes off above her head, and she springs to her feet. “Appa! Can I give eomma a tour of the house?”

You tilt your head, amused by the sound of Minji calling you her mother.

“That sounds like a great idea!” Jeongguk cranes his neck to peek at his devious daughter. “Just make sure you study again when you’re done.”

Minji takes her father’s approval as a cue to grab your hand in hers, showing you every corner of the house ー all of her drawings taped to the fridge, her favorite stuffed animals lined up at the end of the bed, and the sparkly clean toilet where she poops every morning. After describing everything in excruciating detail, you could have sworn that Minji would run out of words to say. But she never does.

“What’s behind that door?” You point to the end of the hall.

“That’s appa’s bedroom. He told me I should never go in there unless he gives me permission.”

You suppose it’s healthy to set boundaries between you and your child. It’s not like Jeongguk has distasteful art hanging on his walls, and it’s not likely that he’s hiding a dead body in there. He doesn’t seem to be the type to store skeletons in the closet. You, on the other hand, now that’s a different story. Perhaps Jeongguk just needs a little privacy at the end of every night.

Minji’s voice breaks you out of your reverie. “Eomma! This is your room! Well, it’s a guest room, but appa says it’s basically yours if you ever want a place to stay.”

You step into the final room, glancing around the walls at a loss of words. Your eyes are drawn to the shelves. They’re brimming with so many novels. It’s like your own personal library. You could probably spend the entire day just browsing through each book.

As you slide open one of the drawers, you’re surprised to find an array of period products. There are also makeup wipes, an abundance of face masks, some sunscreen, and essential oils (apparently, women love that sort of stuff according to an article Jeongguk had bookmarked). There’s even a candle that’s labeled ‘ocean breeze.’

“Do you like it?” Minji looks up at you with wide, glimmering eyes as she uncaps the candle, shoving her entire nose against the wax with a hard whiff.

“I love it, Minny, thank you for the tour. I really appreciate it. You should get back to your studies. I’ll help your dad with dinner, but if you need my help, just call me, okay?”

Minji sniffles theatrically and drags her feet into the living room.

You head towards the kitchen to find Jeongguk slicing a daikon radish with military precision. There’s soft music playing in the background, accompanied by the pouring rain outside, occasionally interrupted by the soft huff of frustration when Jeongguk’s bangs cover his eyes. The sleeves of his shirt are rolled up to his elbows, revealing his strong forearms covered in tattoos.

Jeongguk finally looks up at you in the doorway. He flashes you a smile ー delighted, and very much enamored. “How was the tour?”

“Your home is so cozy. But I don’t know if I was supposed to look at the top secret file you forgot to put away.”

“I- WHAT?” He yelps. The shock on his face is quickly replaced with an acute pain. The knife had sliced through his palm upon one careless motion.

“Oh, fuck,” he mutters under his breath, ensuring that Minji won’t hear his foul language.

Jeongguk drops the radish onto the cutting board with a thud. He forces pressure onto the wound with the pad of his thumb to stop the bleeding. In actuality, he’s more concerned about the food than he is about his finger.

“Oh my god, are you okay?” You rush over to his side, reaching for his wrist. “Let’s run it under cold water.”

The two of you waddle towards the small sink, attached by the hip.

“I was kidding about the secret files. I’m sorry about the cut.” You’re ridden with guilt, seeing that your mindless joke had cost Jeongguk his hand.

“No, no, you don’t have to apologize. It was my fault. I was the one holding the knife.”

You shake your head. “Don’t blame yourself either. It happens. I get cuts all the time.” If there’s ever a blade against your skin, it’s usually by the hands of your enemies. You, on the other hand, are a pro when it comes to handling knives.

Jeongguk shuts the faucet off, examining the cut. It’s shallow. You could hardly see it.

“I’ll grab a bandaid for you,” you offer, already sprinting down the hallway.

“They’re in the bathroom! Medicine cabinet!” Jeongguk shouts.

“I know! Minny gave me a tour of everything,” you shout back. You pluck the ointment and the familiar Hello Kitty bandages off the shelf before shuffling back to the kitchen. “Minny shared way too much information about the inventory of your medicine cabinet. Apparently, you have two morphine capsules left. You should get a refill on those.”

Jeongguk hums in recognition, and you wonder why he would need a painkiller as strong as morphine.

Taking Jeongguk’s hand in yours, you assess the cut and gently blow on the appendages with the purse of your lips. You place the pink bandage onto his hand, and out of habit, you give him a quick kiss on the booboo.

When you pull back, you’re absolutely mortified. You avoid his gaze, trying to hide your own humiliation. “I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to do that. The kids at the daycare always ask for a kiss when they’re injured.”

“It’s okay, I understand.” A rosy hue dusts over Jeongguk’s cheeks. Why is he so shy when he’s usually the bold and courageous one? He’ll be sure to call Seokjin tonight to ask what this means ー to be so flustered and afflicted by your touch. Is his skin supposed to feel like it’s on fire?

With the look on his face, you’re not quite sure who’s more embarrassed. So you run towards the sink and nervously wash your hands, practically rubbing the skin raw.

“I’ll cut the radish for you.” You take his place by the cutting board.

When he asks if you’re sure, you just hum in response, having already started, and he succumbs to your offer. Typically, Jeongguk would not be willing to accept anyone’s help. But there’s warmth and sincerity in your tone.

“Let me tie this for you.” Jeongguk steps behind you, lightly brushing your hair back to keep it out of your eyes.

Heat rushes to your face, and you nod in agreement. Instantly, Jeongguk separates your hair into three different strands.

“You know how to braid?” you ask, chopping away at the radish. “You can just tie a simple ponytail if you want.”

“Minny said she wanted to go to school with a French braid. I didn’t know how to do it, so I looked at a video online. I’m not that good, but let me practice, okay?” He ties off your hair with the elastic that he keeps on his wrist for standby. “Tadaaa!” A proud grin sits on his pretty lips.

You can tell that the braid is a little too loose for your liking, but you’ll be sure to show him how to properly braid later. Perhaps after dinner. “How does it look?” You wonder.

“You’re perfect,” Jeongguk says affirmatively, sweet as ever. “Here, let me give you an apron.”

Before you know it, he loops a string of fabric over your head. It sits loosely on the back of your neck. Jeongguk’s hand rests on your shoulder blade, pushing your hips against the counter as he reaches to tie the string around the small of your back. He fixates on the knot that tethers around his thick fingers as he works on the fabric. His breath is hot against your neck. You can feel the heat radiate off of him.

When he pulls back, you swallow the lump in your throat, sighing a breath of relief. “Thanks,” you murmur.

The worst part is that Jeongguk doesn’t even realize the effect that he has on you. You wonder when he’ll put an end to this madness. Because at this rate, you think you might explode if he inches any closer to you.

As it seems, fate has other plans.

While he watches you cook, he hovers behind you; not because he’s controlling, but because he wants to make sure you’re safe. He has to admit that you’re skilled with a knife, but your cooking techniques aren’t quite there.

“When you cut, curl your fingers and tuck your knuckles underneath them.” Jeongguk inches closer and places his chin on the crown of your head. He slots himself against your back as his protective arms cage you against the marble counter. His hands slide down from your wrist, careful not to startle you, before cupping them around your fingers. He gently guides your hand, ensuring that you don’t cut yourself.

You don’t realize that you’ve been holding your breath until he steps away. Maybe cooking isn’t as bad as you make it out to be.

The heavy downpour of rain patters against the windows.

“It looks like the weather is getting worse. I didn’t realize it would storm tonight,” Jeongguk peeks between the blinds before lighting a few candles. The lamps had been flickering because of the torrential rain. “The roads aren’t very safe. If you want to stay over, you can take the guest room.”

You nearly drop the cutlery on the table in the midst of setting up dinner. “Ar- are you sure? I don’t want to be a bother.”

“Stop with that, you’re never a bother,” he reassures you. “If you want, I’ll drive you home first thing tomorrow morning.”

You think about the invitation before ultimately deciding to accept. “Thank you, Jeongguk. And by the way, I really appreciate how you set the room up for me.” You shoot him a grateful smile.

“Anything for my wife.” The warmth of his words makes your heart flutter.

When the table is finally set, the three of you settle down for dinner.

You bite the inside of your cheek as you stare at the beautiful arrangement of food you have yet to touch. There’s tender pork belly, fermented shrimp, spicy oyster radish, fresh garlic, and pickled cabbage among a bunch of other side dishes you can’t even put a name to.

“You said you were hungry, right?” Jeongguk picks up the cabbage leaf and stuffs the ingredients inside. He wraps it into a roll and places it on top of your fluffy white rice.

Watching the steam rise in front of you, you nearly bawl from how delicious it smells. The tears threaten to spill from the corners of your eyes.

Nobody has ever made you a home-cooked meal since your parents had passed.

“Are you- uhm,” Jeongguk lifts his hand, not knowing what to do with his own limbs. A set of chopsticks rests between his thumb and pointer finger, fish cake tucked between the silver metal. It hovers halfway across the table, abruptly stopping before he could reach your bowl. “You can cry, it’s okay-”

You don’t dare to move a single muscle when the tear falls down your cheeks.

Minji reaches over to wipe the droplet away. You can’t tell if she wants to comfort you, or rather, she’s just looking to steal a bite of your pork belly. But you’re inclined to believe it’s the former. Her father had already served a piece of meat in her bowl.

“It’s okay, eomma. You can cry. Just… don’t do it over the dishes. You don’t want your food to be salty,” Minji advises.

Jeongguk calls his daughter’s name, scolding. He plucks out a few tissues from the box and passes them across the table.

You wipe your eyes, praying that the tears will stop. “I’m sorry, I’m fine,” you shake your head. “I just don’t really remember the last time I had a home-cooked meal with anyone other than myself. I think my parents were the last people to ever cook for me.”

“What about your brother?” Jeongguk inquires.

“I’ve always made food for him growing up, and ever since he went to university, he’s been away from home. I really haven’t seen him in a while.” A sullen smile tugs on your lips. “We usually just talk on the phone.”

Jeongguk topples more food onto your bowl, filling it to the brim. “Whenever you come over, you can have any kind of food that you want. Just name it, and it’ll be yours. Even if I don’t know how to make it, I’ll learn. Now let’s eat up, okay?” He picks up a piece of pork belly, prepared to bribe you like a child who hasn’t stopped crying.

You open your mouth, allowing him to feed you, humming in satisfaction. You mutter a thank you before putting on your bravest smile as the rain pours outside.

It’s late in the night when you hear a soft sniffle that echoes from the other side of the bedroom door, followed by a dull strike against the wooden surface, a call for your attention.

“Eomma?”

It never takes you by surprise when a child who isn’t yours calls you their mother. It happens often enough at the daycare center. Tiny humans let the term of endearment slip from their loose lips �� some variation of “mom,” “mommy,” or “eomma.”

These children cry for you when they have trouble opening their chocolate milk, or when they get a “booboo” from their arts and crafts activity, nothing but a measly, barely-there papercut. These children have an understanding that they’re safe with you. That you’d take care of them like a mother would, opening their bottles, helping to clean their mess, kissing their pain away, and wiping the tears dry. Sometimes they don’t notice their honest mistake, having called you their mother. Other times, they’re apologetic and embarrassed. But what’s there to be embarrassed about?

The vocabulary of children is limited to only a few hundred words, but they always resort to the one thing they know. Whether it is, “mom,” “mommy,” “eomma,” or so on and so forth, they trust you in the purest form. They feel protected and comforted by you.

Although you’ve heard it a dozen times before, you’ve never seen a child mean it so earnestly, not like Minji, and definitely not at two in the morning.

You open the bedroom door, looking down to see her tear stained cheeks. The instinct to protect kicks in like second nature. “Minny, what’s wrong?”

Lightning flashes through the sky, followed by a loud crash of thunder. The little girl flinches with a yelp, squeezing her eyes shut, pressing her hands against her ears.

“It’s so loud, ‘m scared,” Minji pouts.

You crouch down to wrap your arms around her shoulders, whispering sweet nothings into her ear. She shivers in your hold, trying to calm down as you rub soothing circles onto her back.

“Don’t worry, Minny. The thunder can’t catch you while you’re in here,” you murmur, adjusting the nightcap on the top of her head. “You’re always safe with me.”

“Can I sleep with you and appa tonight?” Minji asks.

“Th- the both of us?” Your eyes widen. Perhaps Minji doesn’t quite understand the terms of your arrangement. You’re not actually her mom, and Jeongguk isn’t really your husband. Certainly, sleeping in the same bed as Jeongguk crosses some imaginary boundary. “I- I don’t know if appa would-”

“Can we ask him?” Minji pleads, and she looks like she’s about to burst. It doesn’t hurt to try, right?

So you relent, and the two of you tiptoe down the hall to Jeongguk’s bedroom, hand-in-hand. There’s a light that leaks from the bottom of the doorway. Could he possibly be awake this late in the night?

You motion at the door, encouraging Minji to knock. She has to be a big girl, expressing her needs, asking for help when she needs it.

“Appa!” Minji whacks the palm of her hand against the wooden surface, and you have to correct her form. You squeeze her hands into a fist, showing her how to properly knock and urge her to try again.

On the other side, you can hear the shuffle of papers and the sound of wheels scraping against the linoleum floor, followed by the pad of footsteps. The door swings open, revealing a set of sleepy eyes, shrouded behind a pair of glasses. Jeongguk’s hair is disheveled, having run his hands through his overgrown mane a million times (he’s been pondering whether he should cut it, but you’ve shyly expressed how he looks handsome either way, and right now is no exception).

“Appa, can I sleep with the both of you tonight?” Minji hiccups between sniffles, and a tear treads down her cheek. When a crash of thunder sounds through the air, she lurches forward to wrap her arms around her father’s legs, shaking like a leaf.

Jeongguk pats the top of Minji’s head to comfort her. “What’s wrong? What happened?”

“The sky,” Minji shakes her head, pressing her face deeper into her father’s thigh. “Too loud. It’s scary. Wanna sleep with you and eomma.”

Normally, Jeongguk would be stressed, weighing his options, trying to determine the best course of action for his child. But there’s a sigh of relief that slips from his lips when his gaze meets yours. There’s a deep blush that spreads across his cheeks. “Is this okay with you?” His lips move in silence, mouthing the words, only for you to see.

In response, you nod your head and flash him a concerned smile. “You?” You mouth the words right back.

Jeongguk’s answer is obvious when he wraps his arms around the little girl and lifts her into the air. “Let’s go to sleep, Minny.”

Jeongguk taps his chin, pondering, as he stares at the little girl sandwiched in the center of his bed. “Something doesn’t feel right.” But there’s an unmistakable glimmer in his eyes. As tired as he is, he doesn’t seem to let it show. “You know what we should do?”

Before you can respond, he’s already darting out of the bedroom. He stumbles into the living area, grabbing all the mismatched furniture that he can find. There’s a coat rack in one hand and a stool in another. He runs to grab a fishing pole from the closet, one that he had stolen from Seokjin and never returned.

“What’re you doing?” Your brows furrow, confused. But the smile on your face tells him that you’re thoroughly entertained.

“We’re building a fort! Come help me!” He takes hold of your hand and leads you into the living room. “Here, take as many pillows as you can.” Instantly, he holds out a stack of cushions. And who are you to say no?

With your inventory in hand, you run back to Jeongguk’s bedroom and plop them down onto the bed. “Minny, put the pillows wherever you want! Make it comfy for yourself.”

The three of you get to work, constructing a pillow fort, and suddenly, you’re five years old all over again.

Jeongguk returns with spare bed sheets and throw-blankets, tenting them over the makeshift poles. When you’re finally satisfied with your fort, the two of you climb onto the mattress on either side of Minji, huffing and puffing from all the energy exerted.

“That was fun,” you say, exasperated. A beat of silence passes by as you catch your breath. “Thank you again for letting me sleep over, by the way.”

There’s fondness in Jeongguk’s eyes as he turns to look at you. “I hope you know that you can stay as long as you want, and you’re always welcomed whenever.” His sentiment makes your heart beat a little faster. “I told you I’d take care of you.”

“You should know…” As you stare at the roof of the makeshift fort, you try to make sense of how you ended up here. It doesn’t feel real. It doesn’t feel like you deserve it. “Taking care of me is more trouble than it’s worth.”

Jeongguk’s voice is stern and relentless. “It’s not trouble. Not if it’s you. Do you really think I scare so easily?”

You think you might cry, but you’ve already used up more than enough tears from your daily allowance. So you turn to thank him, only to be met with Jeongguk’s half-lidded eyes. He only hums in response ー there’s no need to thank him.

His face is illuminated by the faint glow of the desk lamp on the other side of the room, the one he abandoned in favor of lulling his precious daughter to sleep. Minji holds her father’s hand while you stroke her hair. Within a few short minutes, she’s sound-asleep. The room is quiet, save for her soft snores.

“Poor Minny, I hope that this doesn’t ruin her sleep schedule,” you whisper into the night.

“She might need a nap tomorrow, but that’s okay. It happens sometimes.” Jeongguk lets out a yawn as he tugs the blankets up his shoulders.

You remind him with gentle caution, “What about you? You shouldn’t sleep so late.”

“I know, I know.” He presses his palms against his eyes, utterly exhausted. “I just wanted to squeeze one more chapter in.”

You peek out from the gap in the fort, scanning the mess that lies on top of Jeongguk’s desk. Books are stacked across two different piles, separated by genre ー One of them being social psychology books required for his research; “How to Win Friends and Influence People” sits on the very top.

Another stack is dedicated to the parenting books he often checks out from the library. There are Hello Kitty post-it notes that fill up nearly every page, bookmarked for future reference.

Your eyes return to Jeongguk’s figure, convinced that you can steal a glance, evaluating his exhausted state. But he already has his eyes trained on you, albeit very groggy. A dopey grin stretches across his lips. If he wasn’t already tired before, he definitely is now.

“You don’t have to do all this alone, Jeongguk. You need to rest.” You flash him a matching smile, hoping that the sentiment reaches him. “I don’t think that you scare easily, but I don’t think you’re immune to it either. And that’s perfectly okay. We’re all just people trying to get by.”

Jeongguk sinks deeper into the pillows, succumbing to his sleepy desires. “Thank you,” he murmurs, slurring his words. Another yawn slips from his lips. “I’m just used to it 一 being on my own.”

“Well, you’re not on your own anymore. You can count on me. We’re a team, remember?”

Jeongguk hums, reduced to non-verbal responses that don’t require much energy. Exhaustion tugs at his eyelids until they’re shut. He makes a mental note to talk about this with you another day.

You wave a hand in front of his face, convinced that he’s far gone from the state of consciousness. “If it makes you feel better, I can head back to my room now,” you whisper. You think it might be futile to warn him, considering he’s not awake. But as you peel the blanket back, one foot off the bed, there’s a warmth that envelops your wrist, and you halt in your tracks.

“Stay,” Jeongguk, as tired as he is, manages to mutter with conviction.

His grip doesn’t falter, and so, you relent. You crawl back beneath the sheets and let the night fade into dawn.

The sound of rain splashes against the window. The petrichor smells like childhood. It feels like home, and Jeongguk has never slept so soundlessly in his entire life.

Somehow, Jeongguk wakes up long before you, and you want to curse him for looking so handsome at the crack of dawn. His hair, although disheveled, looks perfectly imperfect. His shirt, as loose as it is, hugs his body in all the right places, sweatpants hanging low on his hips. His round specs perch on the bridge of his nose.

“What do you think about going on a family outing?” Jeongguk suggests over breakfast.

Minji’s eyes widen as excitement fills her tiny frame.

“That sounds like a fun idea,” you chime. “We should spend more time together so we can be perfect for the interview.” Because loving this man and his daughter is nothing more than a performance, right?

“Maybe we can stop at the convenience store and have a picnic in the park. What do you think?” In Jeongguk’s mind, he maps the layout of the market, pinpointing the food that the three of you would enjoy: kimbap, dried squid, potato chips, banana milk, and even fish shaped ice cream.

“The weather cleared up today. It’s beautiful outside.” You say, chowing down on a bite of strawberries.

Jeongguk raises a brow, questioning. “You want to go today? I thought you would want to go home after spending the night.”

“I don’t have much else planned on a Sunday. It gets kind of lonely at my house,” you shrug. “Are you sick of me already?”

But Jeongguk shakes his head. He’d be foolish to ever push you away.

…

In sync, both you and Minji enthusiastically bounce on your feet through the streets of Seoul. You could easily pass as a family from that simple action alone. It’s evident when elders cross paths with you, a fond smile sitting on their faces: “You have a beautiful family!” There’s no denying that. The three of you are picture perfect as you link hands on either side of Minji because she is, in fact, the center of your universe.

When you arrive at the convenience store, Jeongguk picks out a variety of nutritious food while Minji tries to slip cookies into the basket. She’s convinced that her father is not looking because he’s too busy sneaking glances at you from the other end of the snack aisle. He doesn’t think anyone would notice, but Minji surely does.

For some reason, he feels so content standing in a supermarket with his wife who picks the freshest fruit, and his daughter who tries to distract him from seeing the junk food in her hands. In fact, he could probably spend the entire day comparing vegetable prices, and he would still have the time of his life with you. He used to hate running errands, unless it was doing laundry. But now, he doesn’t seem to mind it. Perhaps it’s because he has two companions at his side, and it feels a little less lonely.

“Jeongguk?” You call his name from down the aisle. “Do you want me to grab coffee for you?” You reach for the top shelf on your tippy toes, struggling to grip your hands around the bottle.

Within an instant, Jeongguk is already at your side. He wraps an arm around your waist to prevent you from falling forward. A heat envelops your hand as he wraps his fingers around your palm. “I think I’ll skip on coffee for now. How about tea?”

Upon hearing his deep voice against the shell of your ear, you grow flustered. The heat of his body makes you freeze, and all you can do is nod your head, stunned. He reaches one shelf over to pluck a large bottle of tea, one that you can all share.

Although he’s dropped your hand, he keeps a strong arm around your waist. His shoulders are broad enough to simply devour you. Even his chest is so firm pressed against your back.

“By the way, angel, don’t you think we’ve moved on from the formalities?” There’s a pout that rests on his lips. “I’d like it if you could call me something other than Jeongguk. I think it’s more convincing that way.”

“But that’s your name. What do you want me to call you? Babe? Baby?”

He shakes his head as he rests his chin in the crook of your neck. His hair brushes against your cheek, and your breath hitches in your throat.

You stutter the words out of your mouth, trying to act unaffected. “H- how about darling? Honey? Sweetie? … Handsome?”

He doesn’t react to either of them, but handsome definitely makes him giggle.

You ponder for a moment more. “Then what about love?”

His arm squeezes your waist a little tighter as he presses an innocent kiss to your cheek. “That’s perfect, angel.”

He unravels himself from you as you stare blankly at the beverage aisle in complete awe. You brush your fingertips against your cheek where his warmth lingers.

This is still practice… right?

As you stroll through the park, you come across a live performance at the base of the fountain. There’s a man playing guitar, and he’s serenading the crowd as he busks for money. The three of you stand to admire just for a moment.

A few feet away, Minji is spinning and dancing to the soft melody. Meanwhile, Jeongguk moves his head to the beat of the song, singing the words, albeit faintly.

“You have a pretty voice.” You nudge your shoulders against his to catch his attention.

“Oh, it’s nothing.” He’s bashful.

“You should sing for me one day.” You raise your brows, trying to tempt him.

He contemplates your request, but he teases you with a soft “maybe.” He bumps his shoulder against yours like a high schooler with a crush.

You return the sentiment in a playful back and forth. His sweet action makes you squeal, but not for the reason that you think. Because the affectionate brush of skin against yours quickly transforms into Jeongguk hauling you into his arms. His thick biceps wrap beneath your thighs, and he lifts you into the air. You can’t stop yourself from giggling when he spins you around. There’s a combination of thrill and euphoria in your chest.

Jeongguk’s mind briefly wanders back to the conversation he had with Minji right before he tucked her into bed last night. “Appa, do you have a crush on eomma?”

He had scoffed at the question, brushing it off as if that was far from the truth. But Minji had thought otherwise. “When you have a crush on someone, you think about them all the time. You want them to be happy, and you would do anything to make them smile. Whenever you look at eomma, I can see your ears go red. I think you were shy when she kissed your booboo, and you probably want to kiss her back, right?” For some reason, Minji’s advice seemed to be more introspective than what he could ever pull out of Seokjin.

Jeongguk shakes his head, returning back to reality as he tucks the memory away. When he places you on the ground, you pant with adrenaline. “I thought I was going to fall.”

His gaze meets yours, and he playfully brushes his knuckles beneath your chin. The peak of sunset illuminates your eyes, and you look golden. An epiphany flashes through his mind, and Jeongguk mutters a curse that echoes through his thoughts. Fuck, fuck, fuck. He wants to kiss you.

But as usual, Jeongguk’s mind wins over his heart. He bites his tongue back and offers the next best thing: “Do you think I’d ever let you fall?” He grabs your hands as if nothing had happened ー as if he isn’t falling in love ー and you sway to the beat of the music, skipping to the lawn where you can enjoy your picnic.

…

The park is bustling with so many individuals going about their day, minding their own business. The city comes alive with all of the action that surrounds you.

“Eomma, what’s that over there?” Minji points at an art display at the other end of the fountain. There’s a throng of people, crowding around the small space. The three of you pack up your meal, making sure to toss all of your garbage, before heading over to catch sight of the action.

There are rows of copy paper attached to a fishing line. It strings across a makeshift perimeter, rooted with no rhyme or reason. Apparently, all the buzz is about an interactive exhibit. Anonymous letters from passersby are posted for you to view, and you may even contribute by submitting your own story. You could write about anything you want.

“That sounds like a fun idea,” Jeongguk suggests. So he grabs paper and markers for the three of you as you get to work.

Jeongguk tries to steal a glance at your story, but you throw your body over the paper.

“Hey, no peeking!” you shout. “These stories are supposed to belong to strangers, okay? Let’s keep it anonymous.”

On the other hand, Minji is enthusiastic to show her father the family portrait she’s drawn.

As the minutes pass, you finish jotting your thoughts. It’s not perfect by any means, but the sentiment is still there. When all is said and done, you’ve agreed that you wouldn’t read one another’s stories. One day, you both will disclose the contents of your letter, and you will finally know the truth, but today is not that day.

Dear reader, If I’m being honest, I’ve always felt undesirable. Nobody has ever confessed their feelings for me. I’ve never been in a relationship, nor have I had my first kiss. I’ve never been stopped in the middle of the street, only to be told that I have a beautiful smile. I’ve always been average at best. My friends are concerned that I’m lonely. They’re convinced that I need someone to take care of me, but I constantly tell them that I can do it on my own. I’ve done it my entire life. I’ve held my own hand, swallowed the heartache, and reminded myself “I can do this!” before doing the scary things I never wanted to do. I patted myself on the back when I finished school, earned my first job, and paid all my overdue bills. I raised my younger brother at the age of eighteen as if I was a single mother. I woke up to an empty bed every single day and fed myself scraps of food, even when I didn’t want to. Sometimes, it was burnt, charred, and a little too salty. But that’s what love tastes like, right? Through the smooth sailing and the rough patches, there was no boyfriend, no girlfriend, no partner or lover. Just me. But the more that I think about it, I am so, so tired. Perhaps I grew up too fast and burned too bright. Because now, I don’t know what to do. There’s a guy that I like, or at least I think I do. Nobody ever taught me how to sort out my feelings. I’ve always been told to give and give and give. I’ve had to sacrifice my life, my time, and all of my energy. I was never allowed to feel anger, sadness, or human connection. I never had anything for myself, and I feel empty. But lately, being with him brings me to life. Although I don’t know what it’s like to be in love, this is the closest thing I’ve ever felt to it. When I’m with him, my inner child wants to come out and play. That little girl has always lived in my imagination. I don’t know her very well, but she’s running around, laughing and dancing as if she knows no pain. With him, she is always reminded that she is beautiful and spectacular. That she is stronger than anyone he knows. She is safe. She is protected. Above all, she feels seen. She gets ice cream for dinner, and it’s sweet. It doesn’t quite taste like the love she once knew, but somehow, she thinks it’s even more delicious. Surely, yes, I can take care of myself. But maybe we can learn to take care of each other.

Hi. I don’t know who cares to read this, but if you do, welcome. Where do I even begin? I know this sounds pathetic, but… I don’t think anyone has ever truly understood me for who I am. Perhaps that’s my fault. I constantly reinvent myself to be the person that they want me to be. Society has so many expectations as to how I should look, how I should act, and how I should feel. Let me paint you a picture. I’m big ー horribly buff. I have tattoos and long hair. All the neighborhood grandmas tell me I should cut it because I’d be more handsome. They even tell their grandchildren not to look up to me because I’m far from being an aspiration. Even if I’m the most charming person in the room… if I change my appearance ー if I lose weight, cover my tattoos, and buzz off my hair, they’d find another reason to hate me. It’ll never be enough. They’ll always perceive me as the bad guy and villainize me for everything I do. They say it’s better to be feared than to be loved if I cannot be both. But… I think I want to be loved. I want to be loved so bad that I would do anything to make people look at me. Yet they all shove their unwanted opinions down my throat, and I have nothing left to swallow but my own pride. I have no choice but to be exactly what they want. Most people assume that I’m indestructible. Fortified. That I don’t have a single worry in this world. They think that I can shoulder all of these burdens, and nothing could possibly hurt me. Supposedly, I don’t ever cry ー I never break or bend or shatter because showing emotion is a sign that I’ve already lost. But it’s not true. I’m softer than I look. I worry that I’m not good enough. I feel like I suck at my job, and I constantly make mistakes. I don’t know how to be a good father, but I try. I don’t really know what I want to say. I just wish that people didn’t feel entitled to my body. My body is my own except when it isn’t. It happens more often than not. Maybe then, I could finally be myself, whoever that may be. It sounds like my life is awful, but I promise it isn’t that bad. Recently, I’ve found a small glimmer of hope. There’s one person who accepts me for who I am. She doesn’t expect me to be anyone but myself. She looks at me like I’m human ー as if I’m someone who’s worth it. Like I’m more than just an idea. She showed me that there’s kindness in this world ー that there’s bravery in being soft. She sees me, and scary enough, I think she can even see right through me. I’ve told her so many vulnerable things about myself, and she could probably stab me in the back with all that she knows. I think it would be worth it though. There’s still so much I have to tell her. She may not know the whole truth, but one day, she will. I hope she doesn’t leave me when she finds out. Until then, I will take care of her. I will keep her safe and protect her with every inch of my life. I promise.

By the end of the week, you and Jeongguk have amped yourselves up for Yumi’s engagement party. But there’s one problem.

Jeongguk is late.

He’s never late. When he needs to pick up his daughter from school, he always shows up thirty minutes before dismissal. On date nights, he knocks on your door while you’re in the midst of putting on makeup, and he gladly watches you doll yourself up for the entire hour. For Jeongguk to be late, something must be terribly wrong.

The two of you had agreed to meet up at Yumi’s party seeing that Jeongguk was running behind from work. But where could he possibly be when you need him the most?

Outside of Yumi’s apartment complex, you pace anxiously, twiddling with the engagement present in your hands ー a cast iron skillet that you and Jeongguk had both bought at the department store. From the sidewalk, you can hear the sound of music streaming from the open windows. Endless chatter filters between each beat. You glance at your watch for what feels like the hundredth time.

“Jeongguk, where are you?” You groan, ready to accept defeat.

A nervous sigh falls from your lips. Your shoulders slump. If you have to wait any longer, you might just head into the party all on your own and lose face in front of your friends.

Suddenly, you hear the echo of your name from down the street. Jeongguk is sprinting towards you. He’s a blur of motion. Before you realize it, the air is knocked out of your lungs. Jeongguk had overestimated his speed, missed his landing, and he is colliding into you with open arms.

“Angel, I’m so sorry I’m late.” He tucks his head against your shoulder, panting. His cheeks are hot, and his hair is disheveled. He murmurs apologies against your skin. The scratch of his voice etches a frown onto your face.

Between the two of you, Jeongguk is the more composed one. You’ve always known him to be calm, collected, a little silly, but lovely nevertheless. You’ve never seen him quite like this. He’s shaking.

You squeeze his shoulders in an attempt to peel his body away from yours. But his arms wrap around your waist even tighter, unwilling to part ways. This scene is rather familiar, something akin to a little child seeking comfort. You pat his back, hushing him, as to tell him that everything will be okay.

So you start counting to ten, reminding him to breathe in and out. You place your hand on his chest, strong and reliable, right over the beat of his heart. His eyes close, concentrating all of his energy on the blooming feeling inside of his ribcage. So you paint a pretty picture for him as you dwell in a little puddle of grief together.

“My mom used to tell me that if you transport yourself to a happy place, then all your worries will melt away.”

Jeongguk doesn’t respond, but he hums against your collarbone. He wants nothing more but to hear you talk. He loves the sound of your voice. What is your happy place?

“These days, I picture myself with you in your house. We’re baking a cake with Minny, and it’s going terribly wrong.” You let out a chuckle, and it’s the sweetest thing Jeongguk has ever heard. “Well, actually, the taste is perfect. You’re the head chef after all, and you’re so talented. You know better than me.”

You interrupt your own story with something that will definitely make him laugh. “Did you know that I’ve been borrowing cookbooks from the library? I know it sounds ridiculous. I want to get better so you don’t have to cook all the time. It’d be such a shame if I accidentally poisoned you and the cops would swarm in, charging me with second degree murder.” You can feel his smile against your neck. “I found a recipe for buckwheat noodles, and maybe we should try it out next weekend.”

He nods against your neck, sniffling. He doesn’t want to break it to you, but all you need is a boiling pot of water to cook the noodles.

“Well anyways, in my happy place, the kitchen is a disaster because there’s icing everywhere. Sprinkles are in your hair. I think I have flour in my bra and butter on my cheek. But we’re having fun, singing along to the radio with all of the wrong lyrics. I’d ask you to dance, and when you’re too scared of looking stupid, Minny would pull out a dance move that’s even sillier than what you could ever imagine. Because even if we can’t do it perfectly, whether it is cooking or dancing or singing, we’re still trying.”

There’s a wet tear that falls onto your collarbone. You trace a circle against Jeongguk’s chest, reminding him to concentrate all of his feelings right there. His shoulders relax and his breath evens out.

“When we’re in our happy place, we never go hungry. So if you ever feel sad or anxious, then just meet me right here. I’ll bring the cake ー sorry, just the ingredients, actually, but I’ll get better at cooking. I swear! Minny will bring her cute attitude. And you can just bring yourself.”

There’s a soft breeze that surrounds you. The moonlight conspires with the flight of the fireflies, illuminating the dim sidewalk. The party is long forgotten as you hold onto Jeongguk for just another moment. Reluctantly, he steps back with his head down. His eyes train on the pavement.

“How do you feel, love? Look at me.” You cup his cheeks, and he leans into your touch, nuzzling into your embrace.

After taking a deep sigh, he lifts his head to reveal a bruised cheek and a gash above his eye, right on the brow bone. The blood runs dry.

Shock runs through your body. “What happened? Did someone hurt you?” You gently move his head from side to side, examining every inch of his skin to check for more injuries. But your eyes are frantic. Your hands run through his hair, feeling for bumps and bruises. The search comes up empty, but your throat constricts at the thought of someone hurting your husband.

You grab the cast iron skillet, wielding it like a weapon with the force of a grip so tight that it threatens to bend beneath your fingers. Your other hand clenches his palm, stomping in the direction he came from so he could lead you towards the perpetrator.

Whoever did this to Jeongguk is going to pay, and you’re willing to kill whoever it is. Because for him, you would wage a full on war, running straight into your demise if it meant fighting for him. You would barrel through fire, load your rifles, and draw your daggers no matter what it takes. If they ask you to rip your heart out and put it in his hands, you would have considered the deal done long ago.

Jeongguk is quick to extinguish the fiery passion that fuels your anger, reminding you to not make any rash decisions. The flash of his doe eyes is enough to soothe your worries, and all you want to do is hold him.

The truth is, Jeongguk had already taken care of the situation. As the story goes, he had accepted a side mission to stop the smuggling of antiques from a museum ー gifts from a billionaire tycoon who had long passed. His heirs had sent the treasures to be appraised in the city before it was quickly intercepted by a smuggling ring.

Jeongguk managed to save original art from dynasties past (no doubt stolen), rare coins, china sets, and clusters of intricate jewelry. He stopped the ploy before the thieves had even left the warehouse. However, being the best of the best does not mean he is able to escape unscathed every time.

Jeongguk did not account for the hidden explosives on the agenda. A shrapnel had grazed his skin, forming a deep gash above his brow bone. Had he not been more careful, he would have been in much worse shape.

Although Jeongguk had completed his mission, barely injured, he can’t help but feel guilty for showing up late. If his wound was much more serious, or perhaps he was left for dead, he would not have made it to Yumi’s engagement party. The last thing Jeongguk wants is to keep you waiting.

While he zipped through the streets of Seoul, he didn’t even have a chance to think of a lie. All he could think about was running to you. So he says the first thing that comes to mind. “The airbags in my car set off.”

“You were in a crash? Was Minny with you? What are you doing here? You should go to a hospital!” The words splutter out of your mouth.

His hand cups yours as they rest on his cheeks. “Minny’s with Seokjin today, so don’t worry. The collision was really minor, I swear. I already went to the emergency room, and they said I’ll be good as new.” His voice is eerily calm.

He laces his fingers with yours and presses his lips against your knuckles before promptly taking the iron skillet from your hands. “I don’t want you to worry, let’s just go to the party, okay?”

You’re too concerned to even dwell on that tender moment of intimacy. “You worry me too much, you know?”

“I know, angel. I’m sorry. I’ll make it up to you, I swear.”

You squeeze his hand a little tighter as you shake your head. “I don’t need anything. I’m just glad that you’re here.”

But little do you know, there’s a diamond ring worth millions burning a hole in Jeongguk’s pocket. Some dead billionaire isn’t going to miss it.

Everyone at the event is captivated by Jeongguk. Of course they would. It’s easy when Jeongguk is so charming in such a deceitful way. He can easily spin different versions of himself after each new greeting, creating a hundred nuances to his personality in an instant. He could tell everyone that he’s the prince of Joseon, and they would easily fall for his lies because of the charisma that he oozes.

Your friends see him as the best boyfriend in the world, someone who’s the total package and simply put, he’s way out of your league. He’s romantic in every aspect of the word, he’s open about his feelings, and he’s the purest definition of a “girl dad.” What more could you possibly ask for? Whatever it is, Jeongguk is exactly that.

Even when Jeongguk has no need to impress the men at the party, he has dozens of conversation topics up his sleeve. It’s impressive when he knows basically everything about everything. You name it: video games, boxing, and the federal reserve. This arsenal of information is stored in his mind simply because he’ll never know when he needs to strike up a conversation about camping, barbecuing, or fishing (despite never having an interest to sit and stare at the water with Seokjin for hours on end). Men are so simple minded. They’re absolute fools.

Thankfully, your brother, San, is just another man who falls for the thinly veiled ruse. He seems to approve of your relationship with Jeongguk. Mostly because he can talk about their passion for different cuts of meat. But also because he sees the way that your “boyfriend” takes care of you in the most subtle ways ー by virtue, it’s the act of noticing.

Jeongguk walks you through the crowds of people with a guiding hand on your lower back. He fixes your hair when it falls loose in front of your face. He refills your cup with your favorite drink without ever having to ask. He can’t stop talking about how grateful he is to have a chance with you ー how you’re so beautiful and smart and the only thing he ever wants. There’s obviously love and intention in Jeongguk’s eyes whenever he looks at you. Anyone could see that. To be loved is to be known, and Jeongguk knows you like the back of his hand.

You can feel the pressure of having to prove your relationship when all of the girls gather around, asking invasive questions. How did you convince y/n to go out with you? We almost lost hope for the poor girl. Have you all hung out as a family yet? What does Minji think of your relationship?

For some reason, it feels like you’re back in high school, listening to locker room gossip. It feels as if they’re judging you. They’re laughing at you. But time and time again, Jeongguk defends you and your honor. Not because you need his help, but because you love the safety and security of his words.

“I don’t appreciate you being passive aggressive. Because to me, y/n is the most precious person in the world. If you have something you want to say, then just say it to my face.” He bites back without ever breaking eye contact. He rolls up the sleeves of his shirt. It’s equal parts intimidating and the most attractive thing you have ever seen.

All the girls seem to agree when they swallow a trace of spit and nod their heads in obedience. “Sorry, we just wanted to say that you’re both so lucky to find one another.” They drop the subject, but only for a little while.

Throughout the party, Jeongguk holds you close because he knows how nervous you were to come, and rightfully so. You told him how scared you were to introduce him to all of your friends (he doesn’t see why they deserve that title when they’re nothing but mean girls). Nevertheless, you’re frightened because your relationship with Jeongguk is sacred. Untainted. Unconventional, yes. But it’s protected because only you know about the depths of your bond. After tonight, everything will change. Having your “friends” witness your love so openly feels as if you have to give up another piece of yourself. After making this public knowledge, nothing could ever fully be yours.

But this moment right here is yours to keep, yours to hold, and yours to cherish. Jeon Jeongguk is in your arms, and all you can do is make it known that you are in love.

“Whatever they say, ignore them, okay? Just look at me.” His arm wraps around your waist, and you relax in his hold. The stars in his eyes keep you captivated, and everything else is long forgotten. He whispers sweet nothings in your ear, scared that if he were to go up one decibel, it would burst the little bubble that you’ve created for yourselves. Perhaps you would disappear if he says your name any louder, and he would wake up to realize that his dream girl is nothing but a figment of his imagination.

But there’s nothing about this relationship that’s fake. Your brother can see it all. Although you haven’t hung out with him in ages, he’s very intrigued with the man hanging off of your arm. “Jeongguk, when did you realize that y/n was the one?”

“Stop, we just started dating.” You smack the back of San’s head. But Jeongguk isn’t one to shy away from the question.

“Well, it’s a funny story. The first time I saw her, I thought I had to talk to her. A few months ago, I dropped my daughter off at the daycare. When I walked past the door, I tripped on my own two feet. I saw y/n reading a story at the front of the class. She was so elegant, graceful, and just so, so gorgeous. My first thought was that she is the most incredible person I’ve ever seen.” Jeongguk tells the story without ever taking his eyes off of you. It’s as if you’re the only person in the whole world. There’s a beaming smile stretched across his face. His dimples are carved into his cheeks.

“Minji, my daughter, she has a tendency to cry when I’m not there. So when she bursted into tears, y/n asked if she wanted to sit with her and help her read. She put my daughter on her lap, and instantly, Minny stopped crying.

“For weeks, I tried to work up the courage to approach her. I visited as much as I could. I borrowed more materials than I could even finish, and eventually, I had a pile of overdue books sitting in my apartment. When y/n wasn’t busy with the daycare, she worked at the front desk. I thought she might say something about my outstanding charges, but she never did. At that point, I wanted to talk to her so bad, but I was so foolish. I started bringing cups of coffee into the library, thinking that she would yell at me for breaking the rules.”

“Did it work? Why didn’t you just say something?” San wonders.

“I wasn’t sure what to say. I didn’t think she was interested. She barely looked at me. Never tried to initiate small talk,” Jeongguk shrugs.

Avoiding eye contact is exactly how you show interest in someone. Is there any other way to do it? You had been so nervous to even glance in his general direction! Men don’t ever give you affection, especially not men as gorgeous as Jeongguk. It just felt so wrong to even think about crushing on him.

“But one day, y/n approached me first by some miracle, and I was so shocked. I- I just thought she was an angel. My daughter was at her side. We talked. One thing led to another. The next thing I knew, I was stressing about what outfit to wear and buying flowers so I could pick her up for a coffee date. I don’t even know how to explain it. Everything just fell into place.”

You were convinced that Jeongguk had never noticed you before you approached him that fateful day in the non-fiction aisle. But it rings true that Minji had cried some months ago during reading time. You recall all of the details, albeit vaguely. Had Jeongguk been watching all this time? Did he really borrow an excessive amount of books and purposely buy illicit coffee just to get your attention?

There’s a soft smile that plays on your lips, and Jeongguk is certain that you’re a real life angel. “I hope you know that I waived your overdue fees every single time,” you confess.

…

At some point in the night, you and Jeongguk ended up separating in the most nightmarish of ways. Your coworkers had looped their arms around yours and pulled you away for some girl talk.

Meanwhile Jeongguk is at the other end of the hall, playing billiards with all of the other men. He socializes with them as if it’s effortless. He tells them jokes and makes them chuckle, but of course, his laugh is the one that stands out to you the most. He’s enchanting, and you are all but a moth drawn to a flame. He lights up every room he walks into, shining brighter than anything you’ve ever seen.

As you watch Jeongguk have his own fun, you check out of the conversation, barely listening to what Yumi has to say. You couldn’t quite relate to the stories that they’ve shared about their partners ー being engaged, moving in together, trying for children, having sex.

“y/n, how big is your boyfriend?”

You ponder the question. “Uhm, I don’t know his weight exactly…”

“No, no, sweetie, I mean how big is his dick?”

Your eyes widen in surprise as you shake your head. “We haven’t actually done anything yet. Our relationship is new, y’know. Also, I don’t think that’s any of your business-”

“You mean you haven’t even seen him naked? Surely you’ve touched him when you’ve made out, right?” Their eyes widen when you shake your head no, trying to sputter a retort.

“Even if you’re taking it slow, you must know what he likes in bed, right? Spitting? Choking? Spanking? A little bit of roleplay? Does he like to be called daddy?”

You, yourself, nearly choke on your own drink.

“Most couples get intimate because- I hate to break it to you-” Yumi leans closer to you until her voice is all but a whisper. “All men have needs. If they aren’t met, then he might break up with you and look for satisfaction elsewhere.”

You don’t know why you would believe Yumi’s words despite Jeongguk’s constant reassurance of how much you mean to him. She’s so fucking infuriating, but could she be right? Does Jeongguk see other women when you’re not around? Does he ever tell you that you’re pretty just for the performance of being a married couple? Has everything he said in the past few weeks been an act? Surely, you don’t know everything about this man, but would he ever lie to you? You bite the inside of your cheek as you anxiously pick on the skin around your nails, thinking about her advice.

Seemingly, Jeongguk doesn’t know what the conversation is about. But he doesn’t need to be familiar with the details to know that you’re growing anxious. He can see it from the way you fiddle with your hands. From the way you furrow your brows and chew on your lips. From down the hall, he can pick up on your breathing. He can practically hear the hurricane of thoughts swirling around your head.

Before you can drown in your thoughts, Jeongguk makes his way over to you, nursing a glass of champagne in his hand. “Hi, angel.” He whispers against your jaw. His cheeks are flushed pink as his head rests against the crook of your neck, slotting together like two pieces of a puzzle. “Do you want to get out of here? You can stay over at my place tonight if you want,” he offers.

“What’s wrong? Does it hurt?” You shift your gaze to the gash on his brow. Even when you don’t feel your best, you’re still concerned for those around you. That’s just the person you are. You’re so used to giving yourself away.

“Kind of,” he says. But it hurts more knowing that you’re not okay.

You ruffle your hands through his hair, trying to soothe his ache. “Do you want your painkillers?”

“Just want you.” His deep voice rumbles against your collarbone as he presses a shy kiss to your shoulder. “Come on, let’s go home.” He gently grabs your hand in his and leads you out the front door. You don’t even have a chance to say goodbye to all the guests. Quite frankly, you don’t even care.

The moment you return to Jeongguk’s apartment, you dart to the medicine cabinet, filling a glass of water and instructing him to swallow the morphine pill. To soothe the pain, you apply some ointment onto his injury and gently blow on his gash, hoping that it doesn’t leave a scar to mar his beautiful face. But you avoid eye contact with him as much as you can. All while Jeongguk stares at your pretty lips and your glittery eyes. You look so cute when you’re concerned. A pout rests on your face, and he wants nothing more than to kiss it better.

But then you bid him goodnight, rushing into the guest room, pacing back and forth behind closed doors.

Jeongguk sits in the living room, stunned, wondering if he’s done something wrong. Whether his breath smells, or maybe he’s come on too strong. Is it obvious how much he cares for you? Yet a part of him wants you to know, even if you don’t reciprocate. To love you so freely is enough for him.

For you, the problem is not Jeongguk. It’s the fact that you can’t stop thinking about the conversation from earlier in the night. Yumi’s voice echoes through your thoughts. All men have needs. If they aren’t met, then he might break up with you and look for satisfaction elsewhere.

A part of you needs Jeongguk to tell you that this isn’t true. Your heart and mind may not be able to rest otherwise. So for the sake of your fake relationship, you put on a brave face and patter down the hall to his room.

…

The soft knock on Jeongguk’s door draws his attention away from the vanity. As soon as he tells you to come in, you hesitantly enter his bedroom.

His back is turned as he faces the mirror, heedlessly applying his skincare. “What’s up? Do you need anything?” He spins around to meet you with curiosity written on his face.

You catch a glimpse of his exposed chest, and your cheeks heats up in recognition. The top three buttons of his shirt are undone, seeing that he’s getting ready for bed. He removes his rings and the silver watch from his wrist.

“Sorry, I- I didn’t know you were indecent.” You turn your head away, avoiding his strong build ー the biceps that bulge beneath his shirt and the muscles that flex with every movement. Your hand shoots up to hide your face in embarrassment.

He finds it adorable how flustered you get upon seeing a little bit of skin. Still, he makes no effort to button up his shirt. Because that’s all that it is ー just skin.

You swallow the lump in your throat, and your eyes flicker to the floor as if the rug is the most interesting thing in the world. “Can we talk about something?”

“Talk?” He approaches the bed, patting the spot beside him. “Come here, what do you want to talk about?”

You perch yourself onto the mattress bouncing up and down from the weight of the springs. Jeongguk sidles closer to you. His knees knock against yours. He smells like jasmine and musk, and it’s divine.

“At the party, the girls were talking about relationships,” you begin.

He hums with a nod, attentive as ever. Jeongguk looks at you as if you’re the only person in the world, but you don’t seem to notice, too preoccupied with anything else but the intensity of his eyes.

“What did they say?” He wonders, readjusting your necklace so the pendant sits pretty on your neck.

“Y’know.” You tug on your fingers, finding something to fiddle with. “The usual stuff.”

He reaches for your hands, instantly halting your movements. Soothing your nerves, he rubs his thumb over your knuckles. He knows that you must have mustered a lot of courage to come over and bring this up. “Angel, you have to use your words if you want to tell me what’s on your mind.”

You grow bashful under his touch, but that’s exactly the problem. “They talked about stuff like this.” You squeeze his palms for emphasis. “Holding hands. Touching. Skinship.” You mumble the last part, too shy to say it out loud: “Kissing.” Turning your cheek towards him, you murmur an apology. “Sorry. You make me nervous.”

Jeongguk doesn’t fail to notice the way your tongue licks the plump of your lips or the way your throat constricts after swallowing a trace of spit. “Nervous? C’mere- look at me.”

His deep voice sends a shiver down your spine. It’s authoritative, and you can’t help but follow his orders.

“I’m not familiar with being this close to someone,” you motion at the lack of space between his body and yours. “I wouldn’t want you to be upset with me if I’m not very affectionate.”

“Angel, I’d never be upset with you. We can do whatever you want at your own pace.”

“Are you sure you’d never leave me if-”

Jeongguk stops your train of thought before allowing your mind to wander to a dark place. His voice hardens upon hearing such a suggestion. “I never want to even think about that possibility because I’m not letting you go. I’m yours no matter what. You’ll actually have to fight me if you want to push me away. Even then, I’d crawl right back to you.” He truly means every single word that he utters.

There’s a hint of a smile on your lips. “Sorry. Intimacy is really scary for me,” you confess, hesitating. Jeongguk gives you another moment to collect your thoughts. He’d give you as long as you need, even if it’s a lifetime and all the stars in the night sky have burnt out.

“But another reason I want to talk to you is because I’m concerned this won’t come across as a real marriage if we’re physically distant, y’know? The girls said that it’s normal for couples to be… intimate.”

Jeongguk doesn’t say anything, at least not immediately. He doesn’t react. His eyes are distracted by your mouth ー the way your gloss clings onto your lips and the way it moves so languidly with every word you articulate.

“Jeongguk- Love?”

The sound of his name never really meant much to him. After all, it’s just an alias. Yet nothing sets him aflame more than the claim that you have on him ー the way that your lips purse when you call him your love.

“I know this sounds silly-” you begin.

He shakes his head, brows furrowed, effectively wiping away all of your insecurities. “Never.”

A naive grin spreads across your face. How could you be so foolish to believe that Jeongguk would make you feel anything less than important? Time and time again, he makes you feel heard. He makes you feel seen.

“Go on,” he urges. “Tell me.”

“Well, I read an article about how looking into your partner’s eyes for a long period of time increases intimacy. It also builds trust and helps to recognize emotion.” It’s ironic how you explain all of this while avoiding his eyes. Instead, you keep them trained on the scar sitting pretty and kissable on his cheek.

A dimpled smile spreads across Jeongguk’s face. “Okay, we can try,” he agrees. He reaches to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, and you think you might pass away. “But angel, you have to face me if we’re going to do this. I want you to be comfortable.”

“Right, yeah,” you mumble. “Of course.” Shuffling from the edge of the bed, you turn to face your husband. You tuck your feet beneath your butt and sit on your knees.

“Relax, okay? There’s no need to be nervous around me.” His voice is reassuring. It’s heartwarming.

You nod your head as you will yourself to meet his gaze. “I can do this. I can do this,” you think to yourself.

Jeongguk’s pupils glimmer in the lowlight, warm and comforting, and you wonder how anyone could be so handsome. You try to focus on the task at hand, but it’s difficult when he, himself, is so distracting. There’s a beauty mark on his cheek. His jaw. His nose. Beneath his lip. You could trace them all day and night, if only he’d let you.

Jeongguk’s deep voice cuts through the night. “Is there anything else that you want to try?”

“M- maybe we could hold hands?”

“We’ve held hands before.” He laces his fingers between yours so effortlessly, his hand engulfing.

Your breath hitches in your throat.

“Does it still make you nervous?” He wonders.

“A little bit,” you glance at how small your hand looks in his. “But I can get used to it.”

“Can I suggest something?”

You nod, agreeing. “Anything.”

He tilts his head to the side, raising a brow, unconvinced. “Anything? Are you sure?”

You nod with more confidence. “I’ll tell you if I don’t like it.”

“Then can I hold you?”

You hesitate for a second, unsure of what that entails. A beat goes by when Jeongguk is prepared to tell you that you’re free to say no. But you wipe that thought away, giving him your full consent.

Not a second passes by before he wraps his tattooed arms around your waist, tugging you onto his lap. Your thighs rest on either side of his hips, straddling him.

A squeak ー a fucking squeak. God, how much cuter can you get? ー slips past your lips. They’re swollen from how you nervously tug on the flesh, tethering it between your teeth.

“Does this feel better?” There’s a sense of longing that drips from Jeongguk’s honeyed voice.

“It’s… nice.” Your brain is on the verge of malfunctioning and shutting down upon feeling the heat of his skin against yours. “Better.” Your voice is breathy. It’s self preservation. You exhale deeply in an attempt to calm the flutter of your heart.

To keep yourself occupied, you trace your fingers across your bare thighs, unsure of what to do with them. Jeongguk had let go of your hands in favor of holding your hips. So you play with the hem of your dress that’s currently riding up your legs. Suddenly, you’re very aware of how little you’re wearing. How your skin is burning beneath his fingertips.

Jeongguk’s body is radiating, and you can feel the heat between your legs grow, the dampness in your underwear spreading.

“You can touch me if you want,” he offers.

You’re not as confident as Jeongguk, but oh, how you wish you were.

“Do you want to?” He senses your hesitation, yet you nod your head, affirming.

“I do,” you bite the inside of your cheek. “I want to touch you- feel you.”

Jeongguk wraps his fingers around your wrists, bringing your hands to rest on his broad shoulders. They’re muscular beneath your touch. You curse yourself for letting your mind wander and for letting your panties soak with arousal ー neither of which you can control.

Somehow, you resist the urge to look down at his physique. The sleeves of his shirt are rolled up to the elbows, revealing his strong forearms, adorned by the dark tattoos that coil up his muscles. Your gaze darts across his features, struggling to focus on the starlight in his eyes. You switch between the edge of his jaw, the dip of his neck, and the plump of his lips.

“My eyes are up here, angel.” The corner of his mouth draws into a smile ー so bright and devastatingly beautiful. He hooks a gentle hand beneath your chin, guiding you to meet his stare. “Tell me what you’re thinking about. What’s going on in that pretty head of yours?”

Your voice is soft, just barely above a whisper. It’s nearly inaudible. “Thinking about what it would be like to kiss you.”

The innocence of your words makes Jeongguk blush. He’s never been the type to be so easily affected. After all, he’s the bold one in the relationship ー confident, decisive, dominant. But you make him weak in the knees.

“You don’t have to ask permission to kiss me.” Jeongguk inches closer, considerate hands squeezing around your waist. “You’re my wife.”

Why does the thought of belonging to Jeongguk make your heart stutter? You’re certain that this is nothing but pretend, yet the only thing that makes you believe this could be real is the soothing circles that Jeongguk draws onto your skin. He’s present. He’s willing. His lips are right there, right in front of you. You could take the leap of faith and close the distance, leaning forward to kiss him.

So you do.

When your lips meet, it’s as if the rest of the world has gone silent. Time has stopped, and nothing else matters but the two of you at this moment.

His lips are pillowy soft against yours. He tastes like champagne and mint. He’s gentle, only applying as much pressure as you do. You melt into his touch, feeling featherlight in his hold. His hands grip your waist so delicately, with love and intention, as if you are the most precious thing in his eyes.

You pull apart to catch your breath, allowing the air to fill your lungs, regretfully so. If you were to drown, you would want to drown in Jeon Jeongguk. Your eyes flutter open, but you can’t seem to look at anything but his cherry lips.

“Love…” The term of endearment leaves your lips in a pant, and he grows harder beneath you. “This is going to sound so embarrassing…” Your voice trails off as the heat engulfs your entire body. Your head lowers, feeling self-conscious of your actions.

Jeongguk nuzzles his nose against your neck as he presses tender kisses on your collarbone. “What is it? You can tell me anything.”

Your fingernails dig into his strong shoulders, squeezing his taut muscles as you muster the courage to tell him the truth. “That was my first kiss.”

He peers up at you from beneath his long eyelashes. “That’s nothing to be embarrassed about.” Jeongguk shakes his head, squeezing your waist with reassurance.

Your eyes are half lidded as you murmur a quiet confession, “I want to kiss you again.” Normally, you wouldn’t dare to be so bold, but you feel drunk on his taste.

“You can do whatever you want to me.” Jeongguk draws you closer, dragging your core onto the apex of his thighs, thick and sturdy. “I like anything that you like. Kissing you. Holding you. Just looking at you,” he shrugs. “And if it wasn’t obvious enough… I like you.”

Jeon Jeongguk makes you absolutely breathless. “Ar- are we still pretending?”

“Never.” Leaning forward, he brushes his mouth against yours. “I have never once pretended with you.”

You kiss him back with more fervor, desperate and wanting. You’re more confident now, fully knowing that Jeongguk wants this as much as you do.

“When you said I could do whatever…” You pull back, thinking about Jeongguk’s previous statement.

He nods his head with the most innocent beam on his face. “I mean it.”

God, you feel like such a pervert. You’ve shared your first kiss with him, something so sweet and innocent. Why couldn’t that be enough for you? You’re sitting on his lap, feeling the broad planes of his chest, and you can’t stop thinking about what it would be like to do more. To feel more.

You’re ridden with guilt, drowning in your own arousal, but Jeongguk is so kind. He’s understanding. He’s staring at you as if you’re his whole world. He would never dare to objectify you because he’s a gentleman. But… What if you want him to?

“The girls at the party were also talking about…” Your words begin to trail.

“About what?” You subconsciously trace circles onto his shoulders, distracting yourself from the conversation, not knowing that Jeongguk’s eyes flutter close because he adores the drag of your nails and the subtle warmth of your fingertips.

“About… doing it.” Your words come out in a hushed whisper. It feels too inappropriate to say it out loud. Yet you don’t dare to mention how your panties are absolutely ruined.

“Angel, what did we talk about?” His lips press against your shoulder, at any inch of skin that he can reach. “You have to be more specific.”

Jeongguk has never once made you feel ashamed or embarrassed. He has never laughed at you or told you that you’re being silly. So why is it so difficult to tell him that you want him ー Need him?

You take the leap of faith because this is your partner ー in life, in death, and in crime. This is Jeongguk. Your one and only lover who never fails to remind you that you are the strongest woman in the world. He who delivers nutritious lunch boxes to you and tucks cute notes into the lid because he knows that they make you smile. Jeon Jeongguk who massages the knots out of your shoulders after a secret night of combat. He who gets pouty when you call him anything other than ‘love.’

There’s no need to hide anything from this man. He’s your home, just as you are his.

“They talked about sex… You know… making love. ” The crude word sounds so wrong leaving your lips. So out of place. It’s dirty, and it’s naughty. “They said all couples do it, but we’ve never…”

“Do you want to do it because you want to, or is it because your friends told you to?” Jeongguk searches your eyes for clarification. “Because if you feel pressured when you’re not ready-”

“No! I do!” You cling onto his shirt with more urgency. “I want to do it ー with you. I trust you.” You lean closer, brushing your lips against his ear. “You’re my husband.”

Jeongguk groans at the sound of your words. At the way your fingernails scratch down his chest. At the way you sit so pretty and perfect on top of his lap, pressing your weight into his erection.

He gulps as if this is the first time he’s ever been nervous in his life. “Why don’t you take off my shirt?”

“C- can I?” you stutter.

“Like I said, you can do whatever you want to me. You’re my wife, and I’m yours.” He presses his lips against your brow. “Yours to hold. To kiss. To love.” He kisses your nose. Your chin. Your jaw. He tucks your hair behind your ears and whispers. “I’m yours to make love to.”

With trembling fingers, you reach for the button that barely holds Jeongguk’s shirt together.

His hand engulfs yours. “Don’t forget to breathe, in and out, okay?” Jeongguk, patient as ever, waits for your respiration to steady. “You’re safe with me. If you want to stop, just say the word.”

With each button undone, his shirt falls apart, revealing Jeongguk’s toned abs. As glorious as he is, your eyes are drawn to the scar on the side of his stomach, barely covered by the fabric that hangs off his back. The scar is jagged, and the skin is raised, the tissue is puckered at the edges.

“Wha- what happened here?” Your fingertips reach down to trace over the scar, but before you make contact, you pull away.

“You can touch it-” Jeongguk reaffirms. “Wherever you want. I’m yours.”

Jeongguk’s breath hitches in his throat when your cold hands lightly graze the rough texture, feeling the ghost of his past. But he knows how you’ll respect his boundaries no matter what, and he relaxes, fully knowing that you’ll take care of him.

“I had surgery when I was younger.” Jeongguk lies. “They took out my appendix.”

Your brows furrow. There’s no reason not to believe him, but why is the scar so jagged and uneven? Certain parts are wider than others as if the surgeon had twisted a large blade into his abdomen, and not simply sliced to gain access to his organs.

As usual, Jeongguk can read the concern written on your face. “It’s okay, it didn’t hurt much.” The curve of his lips settle into a warm and reassuring smile. “I promise.”

Jeongguk doesn’t express any discomfort about his scar, yet you can’t help but wonder what kind of horrors he had to live through.

To ease your mind, Jeongguk pulls you into his body and presses his hands beneath your thighs.

A yelp escapes from your lips as he lifts you up. You’re chest to chest with him, legs wrapping around his waist. He presses your back down to the mattress, settling your head onto one of the pillows at the bedpost.

He hovers above you, a hair's breadth away.

“Hi,” he whispers against your lips. “You look so stunning.”

You grow shy with all the attention that Jeongguk feeds you. “Hi,” you whisper back. Your legs wrap tighter around his waist.

“Can I take this off?” Jeongguk glides a finger beneath the strap of your dress.

There’s a rush in your head, feeling dizzy upon nodding your head with so much vigor.

His lips pair with yours in a quick kiss before calling you a good girl. He shifts his weight off of you so that he can tug you into an upright position and peel the dress off.

Jeongguk’s eyes widen at your bare chest, having omitted a bra so as to not ruin the outfit. His throat goes dry, and he’s having trouble forming words in his head. You’ve never seen him so speechless.

Subconsciously, you raise your arms to cover your chest.

“No, no, no, don’t do that.” Jeongguk wraps his fingers around your wrists, pressing a smooch to your delicate skin. “You’re so pretty like this. Don’t ever hide from me, okay?”

His words make you shiver. Having someone dote on you as much as Jeongguk is something you’re not used to. But that’s exactly why you’re here, right? So you nod your head and let him pin your hands to the mattress before leading a trail of kisses down your body.

Curious fingers speak freely against your skin, exploring every inch of you. He takes note of every gasp, giggle, and moan that escapes your lips. He presses his swollen lips to your sensitive spots until you keen louder for him, desperately begging for more. His lips wrap around your nipple, sucking on the bud until you whimper. He’s a drooling mess over your tits as he leaves a trail of saliva, marking your skin and claiming you as his.

Jeongguk furthers his descent down your tummy, placing sweet kisses against the waistband of your panties. He reaches down to feel the leather strap around your upper thigh. It’s the holster that you use to sheathe your knife, and thank God you disarmed before stepping into Jeongguk’s bedroom.

“I use it to hold my pepper spray,” you murmur a half-ass excuse. “Some of my clothes have shallow pockets.”

Jeongguk smiles against your skin as he ghosts his lips against your soft thighs. He doesn’t think much of it, but he does think it’s really hot. So he doesn’t bother to unstrap as he continues to worship your body.

What catches his attention is not the way you’ve soaked through your underwear, as arousing as it is. But rather, he’s intrigued by the faint mark on the outside of your thigh. It’s not a regular, old scar. To Jeongguk, it’s oddly familiar because it’s what appears to be an old bullet wound.

Jeongguk stutters in disbelief, eyes wide. “What’s this? W- were you sho-” He tries to mentally collect himself as he settles on a choice of words. “Were you hurt? Who hurt you?”

You look down, noticing the circular scar on your outer thigh before shaking it off. “It’s nothing. It was from an injection.”

“Are you sure? It looks li- It looked serious.” His voice trembles with concern, hands fisting at his sides.

You pull him up by the collar of his undone shirt, hanging off his broad shoulders. Your lips meet his in a delicate, comforting kiss. Jeongguk visibly relaxes in your hold.

“I’m fine, really. I just want you.” You claw his shoulders in an attempt to peel the rest of the fabric off.

Jeongguk sighs, trying to forget about what he had seen. But he’s certain that his mind will wander back to the scar at another point in time. He strips the shirt off his back, carelessly tossing the fabric onto the floor.

Jeon Jeongguk is mesmerizing. You’ve never seen the entirety of his sleeve, but there it is, in all its glory. There’s a faint beauty mark on his chest, one that you did not account for when tracing all of the scars and marks on his upper body.

“Tell me you want me,” his breath is hot and heavy against yours.

Subconsciously, you clench at the sound of his words. “Guk- I want you more than anything.” Your hands float down to the buckle of his jeans as you unclasp the button. “You’re wearing too much. Take it off.” The plea that falls from your lips is breathy and desperate.

“Fuck-” Jeongguk curses, trying to restrain himself.

Jeongguk has slept with plenty of women before, but never like this. He’s always had one night stands with an ulterior motive, whether it is for leverage or intel or for the sole purpose of converting an innocent woman into a whistleblower. He’s fucked with media journalists, cabinet members, and even the wives of politicians. He isn’t proud of it, but women, just like everyone else, are more likely to say things they don’t mean when their desires are fulfilled. They’re willing to trust him and spill their secrets when they’re lost in the throes of pleasure ー when he hands over his lust and his attention. It’s transactional.

Jeongguk has always thought that love is cheap. But not with you.

With you, Jeongguk has the innate need to take his time. He wants to show you what it means to make love.

He hooks his hand beneath your panties, pulling them down your legs. There’s a string of arousal that breaks when he tugs the fabric off. It’s absolutely soaked in your arousal. Jeongguk’s lips press against every inch of your skin, leaving no spot untouched.

You shudder when his hot breath meets your inner thighs, threatening to close them. He wraps his thick arms around your legs, digging his fingers into your hips, pinning you to the mattress.

He keeps his eyes trained on your face as you tremble beneath his touch. He kitten licks your clit, careful as to not overwhelm you. But you quickly melt into the pillows, gripping his hair between your fingers.

Jeongguk wants to commit this to memory. The way that you look so angelic in this light.

Quiet whimpers escape from your parted lips. “You don’t have to hold back,” he reminds you. “Be as loud as you want. Nobody’s home. We have all the time in the world, and I want you to feel good.”

He wraps his lips around your clit, sucking softly on the bundle of nerves until you’re writhing against his mouth. Soon enough, you grind your hips, practically riding his face like a needy slut, desperate and wanting.

The moans slip out of your mouth freely, and Jeongguk grows harder at how pretty you are, lost in pleasure. He begins to rut his hips against the mattress, seeking some kind of relief for his aching cock.

His tongue slips between your walls, licking up the arousal that seeps down your thighs. His chin is coated in your wetness, and he’s utterly obsessed with your taste.

Your nails dig into his hair, pulling on the roots. He elicits a moan against your core, and you’re muttering apologies, “sorry, ‘m sorry.” Yet you continue to grind your cunt against his tongue, proving that you’re not sorry at all.

Your grip loosens, but Jeongguk whines at the loss of tension. “Feels good, angel, don’t stop.”

He quickly grabs your hands and places them on the top of his head, encouraging you to tug as hard as you want. He’s obsessed with your taste, but he’s also addicted to the pain that you inflict on him.

He dips his tongue between your walls, reaching as far as he can go. He smiles against your core as if he’s the one enjoying himself ー and truly, he is. He can’t get enough of you. Jeongguk loves to bury his face into your sweet pussy, making out with your cunt. His chin is doused in your essence, and he wants more. He needs to see you dripping in cum so he can taste you straight from the source.

“Guk, it feels weird,” you choke on your words, pressing your hands against your tummy. The tears cascade down your cheeks as your high builds in the pit of your stomach.

“Shh, shh, angel,” he hushes before dropping a thick glob of spit onto your entrance. He can’t believe that you’ve never come in your life. Have you never played with your cute little cunt before?

Jeongguk laps your clit while he works a finger into you, gliding between your tight walls. He pushes another one in, watching you stretch around his digits. In the back of his mind, he wonders how you’ll be able to take his cock when you can hardly take his fingers. He curls them inside of you, slowly adding a third.

You will yourself to pick your head up, allowing your gaze to meet his. The sight before you is filthy beyond belief. You can’t believe that Jeongguk is making out with your naughty pussy, and you love it. His fingers are gliding inside of you, reaching places you’ve never reached before. He’s humping the mattress, trying to satiate his throbbing cock that’s leaking through his boxers.

“Guk- love, I-”

“Just let go. Come for me,” his husky voice vibrates against your cunt.

At the sound of his command, you unravel on his tongue, shuddering beneath his strong hold. Your cunt pulses as waves of pleasure rip through you. Soft moans flow through your parted lips, and it’s suddenly Jeongguk’s new favorite melody.

He watches you fall apart with hearts in his eyes. His hands wrap around your thighs, holding you in place as he fucks you through your climax. You’ve never felt a sensation this strong before. It doesn’t even compare when you’re high on adrenaline.

Yet Jeongguk laps your pussy as if he’s a puppy, so eager to please you as he collects all of your cum on his tongue. He wants you as much as you’ll allow. Before the overstimulation sets in, you have to weakly tap his shoulder, pushing him away as your thighs close around his head.

He presses a smooch to your clit before finally pulling back. “How did that feel?”

“Never felt anything like that before,” you gasp, trying to catch your breath. “C- can you show me how to touch you too?” The innocent look in your eyes drives him absolutely mad. “Wanna make you feel good.” You palm him through his boxers, and he groans at your touch.

Fuck. “Tonight’s about you, angel.” Jeongguk curses at himself because you look so pretty batting your eyelashes at him. You’re practically begging to suck him off, and he can’t bring himself to say yes. Your hands dip beneath his underwear, gliding your hands up and down his throbbing cock.

Jeongguk thinks that he might be in heaven. “Aren’t you too tired? I’ve already made you come once.”

But you shake your head, “I want more, please? I can take it. Will you please give it to me?”

“I- I don’t have a condom,” he confesses.

“Don’t care, I need you.” Your hands roam across the planes of his chest before settling on the back of his neck. You pull him closer until your lips brush against his. “Need you so bad…” You subconsciously roll your hips, grinding your bare cunt against his thigh, pleading ー begging for him to sink his cock inside of you to relieve the ache. “It hurts,” you murmur.

What else is Jeongguk supposed to do when his baby is aching, begging and pleading for his help? So he pulls his cock out of his boxers, tossing the offensive material out of the way. Your mouth waters as your eyes meet his length.

“It’s not gonna fit,” you shake your head. Surely, he could split you open with his sheer girth. “You’re too big.”

Jeongguk wraps his hand around his length, jerking himself off before pressing the length of his thick cock onto your stomach, measuring how deep he could possibly go. The pretty tip rests against your belly button. Jeon Jeongguk could actually break you, and you would let him.

“Are you sure you want to do this? We can stop-”

You shake your head with desperate vigor, and your imploring hands reach for his broad shoulders. “Just- just go slow, okay?”

Jeongguk pairs his lips with yours in a sweet kiss, “I’ll take care of you. I promise.” He releases a thick glob of spit onto your cunt before rubbing the tip of his cock against your core, spreading the sloppy mess across your mound. He drags his tip against your lips before slowly pushing into your soaked cunt.

You gasp upon feeling the intrusion, squeezing your eyes shut.

Jeongguk nibbles the column of your neck, whispering quiet praises against your skin to distract you from the discomfort. He looks down to see barely half of his length tucked inside of you, yet your walls are stretched to accommodate him. At the pit of your stomach, there’s a bulge where the tip of his cock prods against your cunt. It protrudes against your tummy, leaving an indentation. He can quite literally watch his dick plow into you.

“Angel, look at how well you take me,” he groans.

You will yourself to open your eyes, seeing how he stuffs you to the brim. The visual is so filthy.

“God, I’ve been dreaming of this.” Jeongguk drops another glob of spit where his length meets your cunt, allowing the glide to be more effortless. The way that your pretty pussy struggles to make room for him is the hottest thing he’s ever seen. His eyes roll back as he squeezes your waist, trying to regain an ounce of composure.

“You’ve been thinking about this? About us?” You clench upon hearing his deepest desires.

He curses under his breath, not knowing how much longer he’d last if you’re already this tight wrapped around his cock. “You have no idea-” When he rests his head against your shoulder, panting, another inch sinks inside of you. “Sorry, ‘m sorry. You just feel so fucking good.”

His rough hands wander across your body, mapping every inch of your skin, committing it to memory. Jeongguk taps his fingers against your lips as he requests you to ‘open up.’ As obedient as you are, you part your lips, allowing him to slip his digits inside.

“Suck on my fingers,” he coos as he pushes himself further into your sweet pussy. “That’s my good girl.” He pulls his calloused fingers out of your mouth, and they find home onto your clit as he rubs figure eights onto your bundle of nerves. It serves as a distraction from the slight sting of resistance where his cock stretches your walls.

But for Jeongguk, this feels like heaven. He resists the urge to sheathe himself into your virgin cunt, down to the hilt. “Can’t believe that I get to see you like this.”

Jeongguk seriously can’t believe how fortunate he is that he’s your first. Nobody has ever touched you the way that Jeongguk does. Nobody will ever fuck you or make you come the way that he will. And certainly, nobody will ever get to see you act like a desperate little slut. You belong to Jeongguk just as he belongs to you. And this is the privilege he gets when you’re his wife.

You watch his face twist in concentration as he works himself into you. His biceps bulge, and his skin dimples beneath the pressure of your fingers when you squeeze his arm. They feel so rock solid beneath your touch. So strong and so, so reliable like the Jeongguk you know and love. You whimper simply because he’s hot, and you could never resist him.

“S- something wrong?” He stills his hips inside of you, and his cock pulses.

“N- no,” you whine, shaking your head. “Just wanna hold your hand.” You scratch down his biceps as you paw at his chest. Even when he’s buried inside of you, it’s still not enough. You need him, and you need all of him.

He grabs both of your hands, softly squeezing them as he pins them on either side of your head. Jeongguk cages you against the mattress as he presses his body weight against yours, plunging his cock deeper and deeper between your walls, inch by inch.

Your chest heaves when his hips press against yours, completely buried inside of you, and a silent cry slips past your lips. Tears begin to form in the corner of your eyes.

“Just breathe for me, angel, okay? Relax, ease up for me. I know it’s uncomfortable now, but you’ll feel so good, I swear.”

You nod your head, and you can’t help but cry. You just feel so full. Two twin tears trail down your cheeks, and Jeongguk is quick to kiss them away.

He soothes his thumb over the back of your hand as he praises you. “You’re doing so well for me. Such a good girl. You can take it, right? You can take it all for me.”

You nod your head, letting the tears fall down like summer rain. “I can take it, I swear-” You sound so choked up, and it’s probably due to the fact that Jeongguk is so fucking deep, you can practically feel him in your throat.

“Move, please, I need you so bad.” The broken sob rips out of your throat as you cry in desperation.

He pulls out with a shallow thrust, wanting to be as close to you as possible. Looking down, he can see where his cock fucks into you, where there’s a bulge that shadows every single one of his thrusts. He takes your hand down to rub over the protrusion.

“Can you feel me? Right here?” He quickly slides out of you before pressing his hips flush against yours in one swift motion.

A deep groan rumbles through his chest, sending a deep vibration through your body. His breath is hot against your lips, and you can actually feel him in your tummy. You can feel him everywhere.

“How’s it, angel?”

“Feels full-” you manage to choke the words out of your mouth.

“Too much?” Jeongguk asks. His breath is shaky as he plows his hips against yours. His cock twitches inside of you, and he really doesn’t want to pull out. But if you had asked, he wouldn’t hesitate to do so.

Thank God for your insatiability because you shake your head as you bring your intertwined hand to your lips, pressing a kiss to his skin. “Feels good- keep going, please,” you beg.

“See? I knew you could take it like a good girl.”

Soon enough, the discomfort subsides, and all you can feel is pleasure in the pit of your stomach. Jeongguk fucks into you until he bottoms out, prodding at the spot that has you seeing stars. Your eyes begin to cross, obsessed with the way he fills you up, turning you into a stuttering mess.

“Oh my god, feels s’ good, Guk- Don’t stop,” you cry, wrapping your legs tightly around his waist to keep him close.

Your mouth falls open and drool begins to slip from the corner of your lips. Jeongguk wedges his tongue into your mouth, swirling your spit and saliva together into one hungry mess.

He shifts his attention to your sensitive neck as he sucks on the column of your throat. A mark begins to bloom above your collarbone. If anyone were to doubt your marriage and the fact that you belonged to Jeongguk, there would be no reason to do so now.

The only thing you can focus on is the way that Jeongguk pokes your cervix, and you want nothing more but for him to flood your womb. Your heavy lidded eyes fall shut, your head lolls, and your cheek rests against the pillow.

But Jeongguk refuses to let you look away. His hand hooks around your jaw, and his fingers dig into your cheek. “Look at me,” he demands. “Want to see you when you come.” He lifts your face off the pillow and presses his lips against yours.

Jeongguk gives deep and pointed thrusts into your cunt. He grips your hands so tightly, but you welcome the embrace. His hips snap against yours, rutting into your battered hole as you desperately chase your high.

“‘m sorry, princess, am I too rough?” He mouths against your lips. “Just f- feels so good around me. So tight n’ warm. You’re s’ perfect.”

You shake your head in desperation. “N- no, I love it-” You love him. “I’m close,” you cry, overwhelmed with emotions.

“Come for me, angel,” he groans into your ear, pressing kisses against your nose, your cheek, your lips. He squeezes your hands, never letting you go.

He pounds into you once, twice, three-four times, bullying his cock into you, and you come undone with the rough snap of his hips. You tremble in his arms, feeling this orgasm tenfold compared to the last. Cum begins to seep out of your cunt, drenching Jeongguk’s cock until there’s a ring of cream at the base of his length.

You tight little cunt clenches around him as if you never want him to leave. He finds it hard to breathe when you look so beautiful, so pretty, and just so cute caged beneath him. As much as he wants to come inside of you and stuff you full, Jeongguk is quick to pull out when he feels his climax approach. He glides his cock against your cunt, rutting against your lips. He paints your stomach with ribbons of white cum, groaning at the lewdness of it all.

Thoughts of Jeongguk breeding your cunt flashes through your mind ー having him flood you with cum round after round until you can have a happy little family of four.

Obscene images of you doing this again and again in different positions send your mind racing. You want him to bury himself to the hilt with your knees pinned against your chest. If only he could flood your womb as he holds you by the back of your thighs in a mating press. Maybe you can come when you’re on all fours, on your hands and knees. Or you could take him down your throat as deep as you can go, choking and gagging on his length with saliva dribbling out of your lips. Although you’re certain that you could barely take half of him considering his size and your inexperience. But Jeongguk can teach you, and you can practice night after night until he absolutely ruins you.

“So much cum,” you murmur, admiring the liquid that rests on your tummy. You swipe your fingers across your stomach before sticking them in your mouth. Jeongguk’s cock twitches at the sight of you so desperate for a taste.

He presses a kiss to your forehead, “How was it?”��

“Can we do it again?” Your eyes glimmer with wishful thinking. It’s safe to say that you had the best night of your life.

Jeongguk sputters a laugh, shaking his head. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

He carries you to the bathroom, making sure you use the toilet to prevent UTIs. Meanwhile, he runs a bath for you where he lathers lavender shampoo in your hair and rubs the knots from your sore shoulders, down to your hips and legs. Between soft giggles and splashes of water, you share sweet kisses and loving stares. Before your fingers can prune, Jeongguk lifts you out of the tub and dries you off with a warm towel.

The two of you tangle beneath the sheets. But before you fall asleep to the sound of one another’s heartbeat, you ask Jeongguk the question that’s been on your mind.

“I was just wondering… Do you like to be called daddy?”

His lips meet your forehead before tucking you closer to his chest. “Go to sleep, angel. We’ll talk about it tomorrow.”

Jeongguk, in fact, does like to be called daddy among a plethora of other vulgar words. This vital piece of information is not necessary for the Hwa Yang interview, but you tuck that specific fact into the recesses of your brain for future reference.

Because the truth is, you don’t have enough time to memorize Jeongguk’s life story. You can save that for another day. The Hwa Yang interview is in less than a week, and you have to save all of your brain space for relevant ー appropriate information. Such as the values of your family and the importance of education in your lives.

Thankfully, as Jeongguk’s informant, Seokjin managed to snag sample questions that the interviewers are likely to ask: What type of person do you want your child to grow up to be? What is your child’s school experience like thus far? What are some habits you practice to help your child acclimate to the academic rigor of this school?

So Jeongguk, Minji, and you work tirelessly to come up with the perfect answers that give the impression that you are a family exuding elegance. In the eyes of the admissions director, it basically means that you have to rival the royal family.

Minji should have interests beyond her plushies and her manhwas, something along the lines of tennis, horseback riding, or crossword puzzles. She has to continue with her studies ー global history, foreign affairs, music theory, and yes, even her sworn enemy, mathematics. At the mere age of five, she should obtain fluency in a second language (which is apparently really impressive if you’re the royal heir to the British empire).

All of this preparation proves to be handy because at the academy, the board of interviewers ask about Minji’s interests and her hobbies. They want to know what type of learner she is and how she can contribute to the fast paced learning environment.

Although Minji is exceptional as she is, you can’t help but wonder why a child has to be a prodigy to be deemed as someone worthy of a good education. What’s wrong with simply existing? What’s wrong with being average? Because if the price of being average is being a decent human being, you would rather take your chances at a different school.

The sound of the headmaster’s voice breaks you out of your reverie. “I want to ask Minji what a typical day in the household looks like.”

She straightens her posture upon hearing her name. “I start the day when eomma wakes me up and helps me get ready for kindergarten. She double checks to make sure my homework and my school supplies are in my bag. She also packs extra clothes for me just in case. Appa makes breakfast in the kitchen, and when we finish eating, they walk me to school-”

The headmaster crinkles his brows. A look of confusion crosses his features. “Does your father always cook for the family?”

“Yes, appa usually cooks because eomma works really hard. Sometimes, she comes home with aches and pains because of all the energy she uses.” Minji shifts her gaze to her father, trying to gauge whether her answer is acceptable. Meanwhile, your eyes are filled with concern, worried she’ll somehow expose your criminal history. “But eomma always helps when she can. She goes to the market, and she does the laundry. She also makes tea for appa and hot chocolate for me. She helps me with my homework even if I don’t like fractions.” Minji says the last part in a hushed whisper.

“Really? Is your mother someone you aspire to be? Despite your father being the one to prepare your meals? It’s rather untraditional.”

“I don’t believe that question is pertinent to the interview. It’s quite leading,” Jeongguk states. His voice doesn’t falter, but there’s animosity in every breath that he takes. “I can assure you that my wife is a wonderful mother and role model to our daughter. Now may we please refocus our attention on Minji and her academics?” Jeongguk’s eyebrows furrow, and he is seething. He balls his hands into fists, resisting the urge to throw a right hook at the man across the table.

Instinctually, your fingers inch across the settee, reaching for Jeongguk’s hand in order to soothe his nerves. His shoulders relax upon feeling the heat of your skin as if to quietly remind him that everything is okay.

“Of course, I apologize.” The headmaster says diplomatically before jotting down a few words into his notebook. He raises his nose in the air as if he’s on some high horse.

The interview persists until the end of the hour, and Jeongguk remains at the edge of his seat. He holds his hand in yours to keep his composure intact. Thankfully, the dean of admissions and the executive advisor have more tasteful questions to ask.

However, it doesn’t last long. The headmaster intercepts once again. “Mrs. Jeon, I noticed that your documents indicate you are Minji’s stepmother, correct? Do you ever feel some kind of disconnect considering that you are not her biological mother?”

You’re taken aback by this impromptu question. You didn’t prepare an answer for this, although your natural response would be to wrap your hands around this man’s bare neck, wringing it dry. Yet you remain composed for the sake of Jeongguk and Minji. You can feel Jeongguk hold your hand tighter in his. But you pat his wrist, serving as both a warning and a comforting acknowledgement.

“I love Minji as a daughter, just as any other mother. To me, it doesn’t matter if she’s not my blood relative. We’ve grown really close ever since we’ve met. I admit that I have never been a mom myself, and I’m faced with a new learning curve every single day. But isn’t that what motherhood is? It’s nothing I’m not used to. Growing up, I raised my younger brother. At work, I take care of children from all different backgrounds. Surely, I make mistakes, but I think every parent leaves a mark on their child no matter what they do. Sometimes it’s a stain. Other times it’s a break, a bend, or a crack. Other parents can splinter their kids, but I hope that I never get to that point. I’m not perfect, but I’m constantly trying to be better. I love Minji more than anything.”

“So you never feel any sense of inadequacy or resentment?” The headmaster has the audacity to question your parenting skills.

Jeongguk cannot stand to hear the headmaster criticize you anymore. In a blink of an eye, he slams his fist against the coffee table. The wood splits in half beneath the brute force of his hand, and you’re quite impressed by the display of action.

“This is wildly inappropriate for an interview. This entire time, you’ve done nothing but berate my wife because we do not have a conventional family. We’re not wealthy people. We work hard for what we do. We take care of one another in a way that only we know and understand. If you can’t accept that, then maybe this is not the school that we want our child to be enrolled in.” Jeongguk’s chest heaves as he says his peace.

He doesn’t even take another moment to listen to the headmaster. There’s nothing he could say that could warrant forgiveness. So Jeongguk picks up his daughter, and he grabs your hand before storming out of the interview room.

Jeongguk is going to have a difficult time explaining to his boss why he’s failed his mission.

“I’m sorry I messed up Minji’s chance of going to Hwa Yang.” You tug at the sleeves of your dress as you stare at the floor.

Back at Jeongguk’s apartment, you sink into the couch, allowing the weight of the situation to finally settle.

Jeongguk rests his hand on your shoulders, turning you so that you can meet his gaze. “You didn’t mess up anything.” His eyes are filled with warmth, but you feel as if you don’t deserve it.

“We worked so hard for this, and it was all for nothing.”

There’s still residual rage that flows through his veins. “Nothing? Don’t say that. Don’t you know that I lo-”

Your heart lurches out of your chest as you stare at him in awe. He loves you?

Jeongguk’s hands shift to hold your cheeks, running his calloused thumb against the edge of your jaw. He sighs, trying to collect his thoughts. “We have each other, and that’s all that matters at the end of the day, okay? We couldn’t anticipate that they’d be so cruel. I would defend you over anything in this world. So don’t you dare say that this was all for nothing.”

He pulls you into a tight hug, tucking your head beneath his chin. You can hear the sound of his heart beat, beating only for you. It’s distracting enough for you to miss his whispered declaration: “I’m seriously gonna marry you someday.”

Minji climbs onto the couch, wedging herself between her parents. “If I don’t get accepted, I don’t have to go to school, right?”

The two of you peel away from the embrace, glaring at Minji, shaking your heads. “No, you have to go,” you simultaneously declare with stern conviction.

Minji huffs a sigh, looking downcast. But when her stomach grumbles, you effectively put an end to your pity party. You and Jeongguk drop everything, scurrying into the kitchen to prepare dinner for your precious daughter. She worked hard, and she did her very best. You all did.

…

Tucked away into the busy streets of Seoul, there’s a tiny little apartment on the second story filled with music and laughter.

While the water boils for the buckwheat noodles, Jeongguk watches over his precious family, reading the instructions for the sauce. All you need is a mixture of perilla oil, cham sauce, buldak sauce, buldak mayo, egg yolk, and a generous amount of furikake. But when you and Minji measure out everything to perfection, you cheer for one another as if you’ve made a meal worthy of praise from the world renown Gordon Ramsey.

When the noodles are ready, you all gather around the table and laugh to your heart's content. You fill your stomachs with starch, a heavy amount of spice, and plenty of love. You dote on one another, too distracted with the loving family you’ve created to notice anything outside of your little bubble.

This moment is yours, and yours alone. This is your happy place, and nobody can take it away from you. Not even the sound of the answering machine, echoing from the quaint living room.

“Due to your family’s impressive display of integrity at the institution’s interview, I would like to extend an offer to enroll Jeon Minji into the prestigious Hwa Yang Academy. Congratulations, and we hope to hear from you soon.”

#jungkook smut #jungkook angst #jungkook fluff #bts smut #bts angst #bts fluff #jungkook x reader #jungkook scenario #jungkook imagine #jungkook #jeon jungkook #bts scenario #bts imagine #bts x reader #bts fan fic #bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #bts fan fiction

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jungkookstatts · 2 years ago

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I love university superstar you are so talented I was picturing a drabble of Jungkook with the yn students maybe teaching them how to play lacrosse would be so cute ��

University Superstar Drabble 1

[Summary]: You’ve invited Jungkook to substitute teach for your kindergarteners gym class. Watching your boyfriend teach your students the art of his favorite sport makes you swoon. It also makes you forget that you’re not supposed to let the younger ones know that you two are dating.

[Theme]: Jock!Jk, LacrossePlayer!JK x TeacherIntern!Y/N, Lovers!AU, UniversitySuperstar!AU UniversitySuperstarCouple!AU

[Rating]: fluff

[Word Count]: 1,469

[A/n to Anon]: Omg? This is crazy bc I was literally just about to ask if y'all would like to send University Superstar requests for drabbles?? This confirms my hunch. Anyways, I am so glad you liked University Superstar! I honestly did not expect it to get so popular and I feel so grateful that it's gotten such positive feedback.

Your drabble request has been written, and I have turned to dust at the pure cuteness of this situation.

[Masterlist] [Drabble (2), (3)]

Your students are going absolutely ape shit. They're screaming and jumping and breaking crayons and tripping over their 2-foot high desk chairs. It's absolute chaos.

"Guys!" you yell, trying your best not to laugh at the little humans sprawling around your classroom. "Jungkook isn't going to show up during gym class if you don't behave and form a single-file line," you warn them. It's a total lie, but things like that work all the time with Kindergartners.

Your students look at you as if they just saw a ghost, some of them already running towards the door to form a line.

You press your hand to the back of some of your students, politely motioning them towards the almost formed single-filed line.

"Okay," you clap your hands together, a giant smile forming on your face. "Are you guys ready to learn how to play lacrosse?"

Some of your students nearly fall to the ground in excitement, all of them nodding their heads or verbally telling you that, yes, they are so fucking ready to play lacrosse.

Opening your art-covered door to your kindergarten classroom, you file them out as you guide them toward the gym. There's a pep in your step as you walk over. You can't lie that you're maybe just as excited as your students. Seeing your boyfriend and watching him teach? Please. Talk about a fantasy turning into reality.

The doors to the gym are heavy as you open them, the immediate smell of rubber and floor cleaner hitting your nostrils as you enter the gym.

In the middle stands your god of a boyfriend, Jeon Jungkook. He's wearing his jersey, showing off the famous number "07” he claimed when he made the team. One of his hands twists his lacrosse stick in his palm, the other coming up to run his fingers through his messy locks.

Jungkook flashes you a smile, his chest filling with excitement from seeing you at work. I mean, he's seen you at work, but not in this kind of way. Most of his visits to your workplace consist of him barging into your office and stealing all the candy on your desk.

But this is different. He's seeing you actually deal with the faces of those projects he accidentally destroyed not too long ago. He's seeing you conduct and guide and care for them as if they were your own. It's something he didn't know if he could ever really prepare for. But his heart nearly explodes as the crowd of children you brought behind you runs up to him, arms wide, engulfing him in a million tiny hugs.

"Woah!" Jungkook chuckles as they tackle him. "You guys are pros at defense."

You laugh before clapping your hands three times. Like little minions, they all stop their actions, repeating your three claps.

"Okay, everyone," you smile, coming next to Jungkook. "Criss-cross-apple-sauce against the bleachers, please."

"You're hot when you're working," Jungkook mumbles low to you. You smirk, jabbing at his side in warning to be careful with his mouth.

"I'm sure you all know who this is, yes?" you ask your students as you clap Jungkook's shoulder. They all nod, the verbal energy they had completely gone as they stare up at their idol. It's funny because they're all blushing, their little cheeks all red and eyes wide. It makes you smile knowing that Jungkook's completely won everyone's heart over...as well as your own.

"Okay, Jungkook is going to teach you, but I expect nothing but fair game and practicing safety rules, alright?" you warn them, mainly directing your words toward Jungkook, though. You've never seen him train or teach bodies under 5'11. This is just your little warning to him that if he dares to hurt a single hair on their head, he will burn in the 8th most painful ring of hell for the rest of his life. "I will be on the bleachers if anyone needs me," you smile, leaving Jungkook to the kids.

Jungkook gulps as you leave his side. This is more nerve-wracking than he thought. They're so tiny; their hands the size of his pinky. But they look up at him in complete infatuation as they wait for his instruction.

Jungkook clears his throat. "I'm gonna explain the rules, and whichever team wins gets to wear my jersey."

Your kindergarteners almost piss their pants out of excitement, impatiently waiting to be divided into teams to compete for the amazing prize. You flash a smile at Jungkook as he gives each kid either a number 1 or a number 2 as an assignment to either Team 1 or Team 2. Jungkook blushes as you wave at him from the bleachers.

You can feel the slight nervousness scrolling through his body. You wish you could go up to him and tell him he has nothing to worry about, that he's already won the hearts of your students a long time ago. But you stick with your distanced non-verbal communication until he's ready to teach them the rules of his beloved game.

----

The rest of the class is spent with a 'competitive' game that was scored at about 0-0 for nearly 45 minutes. Lacrosse is tricky, and Jungkook's explanations also suck. But given that he explains like a kindergartner, they eventually get it and the game ends with Team 2 scoring 2-3.

Your Team 2 students are berzerk, all of them running up to Jungkook like titans, waiting for him to give them the most 'valuable' prize they could ever receive.

Meanwhile, your Team 1 students are sobbing on the floor where they lost. You watch as Jungkook's concern immediately turns to the upset students, feeling bad for their loss. He's about to make his way over toward them, but you're already on your way. You nod at him, telling him that you've got it and that he should focus his attention on the group pulling at his sleeves.

"K-Kookie doesn't li-like me," one of your students, SeoYeon, screams into your chest after kneeling down to console her. You fight the urge to plug your ears as she wails into your embrace. A little something did catch your attention in her midst of a temper tantrum, however. Has your class started calling him Kookie?

Your thoughts are confirmed as DongHyun, another Team 1 contestant, comes to you and tugs at your shirt. His eyes are teary, but you want to squish his cheeks at the fact that he's trying hard not to let any of them fall. However, his nose gives his hurt away, as a big line of snot flows from his nostril to his upper lip.

DongHyung sniffs his obnoxiously long booger back into his nose as he speaks, "Ms. L/n? D-Do you think Kookie will let us wear his jersey? E-Even though we...lost?"

You want to explode at the fact that your students started calling him Kookie. Can this day get any cuter?

"Of course, DongHyun," you smile, wiping a tear from his eye. "Don't be upset. Kookie is a really fair person. He will give you a turn. You just have to be patient, okay?"

DongHyun nods before shaking his head aggressively, shaking away the tears filling his eyes. He then waddles off to comfort his other wailing friends, probably telling them exactly what you told him.

You let go of SeoYeon, telling her to go take a drink of water before making your way over to Jungkook. The man delicately places his jersey over the figures of your student's small bodies, taking a picture of each student as they pose in its oversized glory.

"I thought it would be a good idea to capture it so that they could remember this day in the future," he smiles, crouching down to take another picture of one of your students in his large jersey.

Your heart has done enough exploding today. But this? This made your heart burst into a million pieces out of pure endearment. The goal of the "What I Love About Me" project was for them to capture what they love about themselves as kindergarteners so that they can be reminded of their infatuation in the future. Jungkook creating a moment of the same intention pulls on your heartstrings to such a great extent, you find yourself pressing a small kiss to the crown of his head.

And then you realized you completely indulged. Jungkook's actions made you forget that he's not supposed to be your boyfriend in front of your students. You're stunned, and so is Jungkook.

Suddenly, the room is silent. There's no wailing, there's no cheering, there is nothing. For the next few seconds, all you hear is silence until one of your students points at you and screams,

"Ms. Y/n is dating Kookie!"

----

[End. Do not copy. Original work of @jungkookstatts , 2023]

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sage-lights · 5 months ago

Text

smoshblr tag game 💗💫🫂

tagged by: @babychosen

rules: copy and paste the questions below into a text post and write in your answers, then tag as many people as you want!

1. how long have you been watching smosh? about 9 years, but i did take a 2 year break from 2021 to 2023 where i didn't watch smosh at all (just wasn't interested in that era)

2. favourite smosh cast member(s)? i have what i call my "core six," which is amanda, angela, shayne, courtney, chanse, and arasha 🫶

3. favourite pairing? amanda + angela (*gasp!*) (what a shocker!)

4. favourite recurring character? ooooo, i've got a couple! aunt carolyn and the chosen are so damn good. but my all time fav will always be my boyfriend, dominic!

5. favourite smosh video? right now, it's got to be the last video in the baf legacy series with criss darren, brenda "final girl" poppy, mr grub, the chosen, and regina o'brien 🤗

6. first video that got you into smosh? don't remember which one really got me hooked, but i know the first one i ever watched was the boogie-boarding video from the first ever smosh summer games

7. favourite picture of the cast? forever in love with this shoot. have i mentioned that i wrote an entire paper on the costuming alone? (yes, and i won't shut up about it)

8. favourite picture of your fav? her face card is lethal 😭 and this photoshoot is so elite, she looks INCREDIBLE here!!! (i've posted these pics here sooooo many times i'm obsessed with them)

9. what smosh series do you want to see more of? praying for the return of "let's do this" fr 😔

10. dream guest on smosh mouth? oh my god, i don't know! i mean, angela. that was already a dream and that happened A LOT and now i don't want her on. now it's too much. (jk my real answer is matpat. they HAVE TO make it happen!)

i'm tagging: @unknownteapot, @mynephewmarriedajaguar, @smoshimonsters, @vangoghschair, and @poppyfamily 💌

#smosh #tag game

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joonslfttiddie · 6 months ago

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Home

Chapter 49: Completion...

💜Fic Pairing: OT7 x OFC

💜AU/Genre: Reverse Harem/Polyfidelity/Ghosts/AMBW

💜Warnings: Adult Language/Adult Content/Murder/Blood/Attack by stalker/Strangulation/Magik/Spells/Rituals

💜Rating: MA

💜Word Count: 4,280

Jin’s POV

“WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT?! Noona! NOONA!”

“It’s okay, Jungkook...she’s okay,” I try to reassure him.

“She’s not moving. Is she breathing? HOW IS SHE OKAY?!” Hoseok is obviously in a panic, and understandably so.

“Hoseok, she is okay. She seems to just be resting. I’m sure she’s exhausted after exerting so much energy fighting against whatever that was,” I try to reassure the men who are all gathered around us on the floor. “Y’all, please try to stay calm. This isn’t the time to freak out. We still have work to do. Could someone grab the remaining incense on the counter and the palo santo sticks from that drawer?” I ask no one in particular and realize that I have information in mind that I shouldn’t. I know nothing about this stuff. Hell, I shouldn’t know where Tia keeps her things or each of these men by name, but I do. “Burn it and smudge each room, especially upstairs.”

“Smudge?”

I don’t consider that the guys don’t know much about this stuff either so I look up to Namjoon and say, “I’m sorry. Burn the tip until it produces a good amount of smoke, then blow out the flame. Allow the smoke to move around each room. Get in every corner and closet. Make sure to open windows up there, too.” He nods his head in understanding, then grabs the mentioned items and jogs out of the kitchen. “JK and Hobi, could you go help Namjoon, please?”

“But-,” Jungkook starts. I already know he prefers to stay here with Tia, but I need him and Hoseok to occupy themselves, to help keep them composed. I can’t imagine what they are going through mentally right now, but I feel the desire to somehow lessen their load and their stress.

“I have her; I promise. Go.” This seems to appease him and, reluctantly, he and Hoseok follow behind Namjoon.

“How are you so sure that she’s okay?” The man next to me, with his piercing eyes, stares into mine as if searching for the truth in them.

“Honestly, I’m not sure, Tae, but I just know. I’m noticing I know a lot that I shouldn’t right now. I’m only assuming Tia gave me this information somehow before she lost consciousness.”

“What do you mean? What information?” Yoongi is kneeling behind me, I’m assuming, looking at Tia over my shoulder.

“Well, I know all of your names. We didn’t get an opportunity for introductions yesterday with all that was happening and then having to go to the station. She instructed me on what to do about that spirit thing, directed me to where the salt was, and gave me the spell, word for word. Also, the directions for smudging the house. I didn’t know what that was until a few moments ago, like, I had no knowledge of it, then I suddenly did.”

“She is truly amazing,” Jimin says, coming to sit in front of me as I’m still seated on the floor with Tia between my legs, her body draped across my thigh. “What is burning the incense and wood going to do?” He leans over his criss-crossed legs to caress her face with the back of his fingers, and then he pinches her cheek tenderly. The love he has for her is obvious, beautiful, and pure, so much so it nearly brings tears to my eyes.

“Basically, it will cleanse the space and us of any negative or evil energies. It’s for our protection and to balance the energies in the house,” I share my newfound knowledge. “Opening the windows allows the negative energy to escape.”

Despite the situation, this is the most whole I’ve felt in my entire life. I feel safe, understood, and seen. I’ve been going through the motions in life, just doing what I felt was expected of me. But here, with them, I feel that I have a purpose. I feel wanted. Needed.

Yoongi, still behind me, says with a quivering voice, “You’ve saved her twice within 24 hours. I don’t know how we can ever repay you.”

“Well, Yoongi, I have a feeling that we’ll have plenty of time to repay him,” Jimin says as he continues to pet her and watch her sleeping face lovingly.

I guess I wasn’t able to get a good look at him yesterday at the station, but now I can appreciate his ethereal features. He’s so beautiful, I catch myself staring as if attempting to sear every detail into my mind.

“What do you mean, Mini? Is that what this is?”

“What, what is?” I ask Yoongi without looking back but before he can answer, Tia begins to stir.

“Jagiya!”

“Oh my God…beautiful!”

“T, are you okay?”

We all worry over her, trying to make sure she’s not hurt. Before she can answer, Namjoon, Jungkook, and Hoseok return and rush to our side.

“Little!” Namjoon comes over, holding his arm wrapped in a colorful fabric.

“I’m okay,” she says as she sits up slowly as if not entirely sure of her own words herself. Then, she looks at me and smiles. At this moment, I would climb up to gather the stars from the sky for her if she asked me to. I melt inside and the familiar feeling I’ve been feeling since I approached the house earlier today intensifies.

“Jin,” she says excitedly and reaches out to cup my cheek. “How I’ve missed you, my love.”

My love?

Namjoon’s POV

I’m not sure why but I feel that I can put all of my trust in Jin, even though we’ve only just met yesterday. Under his direction, I grab the incense and palo santo sticks, then rush to the foyer to grab the matches I’d seen on the side table. Just as I’m trying to strike the match with shaky hands, I’m joined by Jungkook and Hoseok.

“Here. Let me do it for you,” Hoseok offers and I give him the box. His face looks distraught but his hands are steady enough to produce a flame and light the sticks. When smoke begins to swirl, he distributes the stems between us. He then heads into the living area and I go into the library, sweeping each room thoroughly before meeting Jungkook upstairs where we do the same in each of the spare bedrooms, bathrooms, closets, everywhere. We save our bedroom and bath for last and when I cross the threshold, there’s an immediate heaviness in the air. A thickness that makes me feel like I’m doing something I shouldn’t and will get caught any second now. Nevertheless, we move forward, wafting the fragrant cloud through the murky energy.

Finally, I make it to the far corner of the room to let up the first window, where I’m met with resistance. I’m literally having to push with all my might, noticeably more compared to the others in the other rooms. I eventually get it all the way up and move to the next one only for the first one to slam shut on its own.

“What the fuck?!”

Jungkook is just as floored as I am and rushes over to assist me by reopening and holding the first window. I open the third, the second slams shut, and I see that Jungkook is visibly straining to keep his window open. By this time, Hoseok comes out of the bathroom and rushes over to us and follows suit by opening and holding the second one; I hold the third. Whatever doesn’t want us doing this is strong as fuck, causing my muscles and veins to pop, showing through my skin.

“Shiiiiiiiiiit!” Jungkook yells, using every ounce of strength he has left. Just then, something heavy seems to shoulder check me hard, pushing me into the glass before crashing through itself, sending glass to shatter on the ground below along with pieces of wood and window trim. With my hand on the window sill, I catch myself before I can fall head first out the second story.

“Namjoon! Are you okay?”

The entity is gone, allowing the other men to leave their windows unmanned. Hoseok rushes to check me over, frantically taking in every inch of my skin that he can see. Jungkook does the same, touching and squeezing here and there.

“You good, bro?”

I am fine, that is until he checks my right shoulder. “Ah! Fuck, that hurts,” I let him know.

“Can you move it?” His expression mirrors the concern in his voice.

I try to raise my arm up, and I’m able to a little, but it hurts like a motherfucker. “Ah!”

“Joon,” Hoseok says in alarm.

“Damn. Okay, you can relax. It’s not broken but may be dislocated,” Jungkook informs us, then goes over to one of the nightstands, returning with one of Tia’s satin scarves. He creates a makeshift sling to take some of the strain off my shoulder, which helps a lot.

“Let’s get you to a doctor,” Hoseok announces.

“I will go later, I promise. I just need to make sure Tia is okay first.”

We hear raised voices coming from downstairs and rush down, hoping everyone is okay.

Jimin’s POV

I love the connection that we all share and that it’s so strong and pure, there is no mistaking when we feel it. At the station, as soon as Jin was within ten feet, the pull was undeniable. I couldn’t wait to get home and tell everyone but I haven’t had the chance to, only being able to share the news with Taehyung thus far. I’m assuming that everyone has noticed it now that things have settled down, and Tia just confirms it when she gazes at Jin lovingly, addressing him as ‘my love’.

“Beautiful, are you sure you’re fine?”

“Oh, Jimin, darlin’. I am right as rain, especially now,” Tia says. While I am happy that she is unharmed, I’m taken aback by her voice. And, ‘right as rain’? What the fuck does that even mean? I look at the guys, who all seem just as confused as I am.

Her eyes. They look…different.

When she looks at me, her usual chocolate brown eyes are now speckled with hints of honey and hazel. She stretches her arms above her head, then reaches up to Jungkook. “Well, Koo, don’t just stand there looking handsome. Help a lady up.”

Jungkook takes Tia’s hands, pulling her to her feet and into his chest and just holds her there for a moment. When he releases her, just far enough to look into her eyes which must have flickered back to normal. Jungkook doesn’t seem to notice, barely able to hold her eye contact. Maybe I’m just tweaking. I’m probably just stressed, these past two days have been quite eventful.

“Noona, I’m so sorry,” he says into her hair before kissing the top of her head. “I’m so sorry for how I acted earlier, for not wanting to listen to you. I was so angry, both at you and at myself, but more so because I couldn’t protect you. I would die if he’d taken you from me. Baby, I can’t live without you. I won’t. I should have been here for you.”

He kisses her passionately, eyes closed as one singular tear escapes to trail down his cheek. When he pulls away, releasing her lips, and opens his eyes, opening the dam that was containing the rest of his tears.

“Oh, JK,” her voice is raspy again as she wipes his face, her own tears threatening to fall. “I know that I upset you, I upset you all,” she looks around at the rest of us, “but I couldn’t tell you because things would have ended terribly. I saw it. I saw each of you hurt, killed, imprisoned…I couldn’t allow that to come to fruition, to see that again. I know you all are pissed, and I get it. But I don’t care. I rather have you all here, living, breathing, and mad, than any alternative.”

“Jagiya, you could have given us some type of heads up. Please, try to see it from our perspective,” Taehyung adds.

“Babe, I get what you’re saying, but I would die a million times if it meant you’d be safe,” I add.

“Tae. Jiminie. I hear you, but this may just be a topic we just have to agree to disagree on. If I were put in this situation again, I wouldn’t hesitate to do it again this way. Because if something happened to you guys,” her voice trails off, and the tears spring from her eyes.

“Tia,” Yoongi says, reaching out to take her hand.

Still squeezing his hand, she places it over her heart as the tears trail down her cheeks and continues, “Fuck safety, fuck everything. I wouldn’t want to live if you guys weren’t here. Period!”

“Okay, okay,” Jin chimes in. “I know that I shouldn’t even have a say, but to offer an objective viewpoint, you all are saying the same thing, just in different ways. It’s beautiful, really, that you all would risk your own lives to spare the other’s and that only hints at how deep your love is. There is no true resolution here so try focusing on that love and empathize with each other. I’m sure Tia saw her decision as the best option for the well-being of everyone and you guys would do anything to guarantee her safety.”

“That’s exactly right,” she agrees. “I knew that I would get hurt but I would live. And you all would live. I swear my intentions were just that.”

“We understand that, Little. Like Jin said, we just want to protect you. We don’t want to see you hurting or suffering,” Namjoon says. “But you played us. You played me, and I walked right into it, trusting you blindly, only to be put in a position where I couldn’t get to you in time. I couldn’t help you when you were literally being attacked in our own home. Don’t do this shit again! Don’t put yourself in harm's way to save us. That’s what we are here for; to keep YOU safe.”

“Joonie, what’s the point of being safe if I’m unhappy,” she says weakly. “I wouldn't want to live without you all.”

“Okay, guys. That’s enough,” Yoongi says. “I can see both sides of this but arguing about who’s right or wrong is pointless. Everyone has made their points and each one is valid.”

“I agree. Let’s just focus on what’s important. We are all here, blessed to see another day with each other,” Hoseok says, ending the spat.

We all stop, taking a breather so as not to allow tensions to rise any further, not wanting to risk saying something we can’t take back.

“What happened to your arm?” Jin looks over to Namjoon and my eyes follow to see his arm hanging in the fabric sling.

“Whatever that thing was, when we were forcing the windows open, it slammed his shoulder against the glass. Speaking of, Tae, we’re going to need another window repaired,” Jungkook says, describing the events that happened upstairs.

“Oh my God, baby, are you okay?” Tia reaches out to touch his shoulder, arm, and hand gently, caressing him with care.

“Yes, Little, I’m fine. It may just be dislocated. I’ll get it checked out in a little while, I just wanted to make sure you are okay before I go,” he says and leans down to kiss her forehead.

“That was him, wasn’t it? That darkness. It was Jason,” I ask.

“Yes, it was. I could see his deformed face in my mind’s eye, the way he looked after being shot. It was so gory and his smile…it was haunting. He was enjoying torturing us one last time.”

“Mind’s eye? Like, a vision?”

Jin is fitting in so well, I nearly forgot that he is unaware of what Tia is and the powers she wields.

“Yes. She has many supernatural abilities, including the ability to see visions of the past and future,” I summarize.

“Yea, and evidently, she can fly, too,” Taehyung teases, which seems to lighten the mood even more.

“Supernatural abilities? That is amazing. So, is that how I suddenly had the knowledge of things that I previously had no idea of?”

Tia turns to answer Jin.

“Yes. I was able to telecommunicate with you so that you could finish the job. I have communicated with the others as well, but this time, it had to be you,” she says with a twang in her voice.

“What does that mean?” Jin is just as clueless as we all are.

“Completion.”

While we are not quite sure what she’s trying to explain, there's comfort in the word. A feeling of finality has filled the house since Jin came. It has me wondering if he may be the last puzzle piece.

“Wait,” Yoongi says, holding his hands up. “Is no one going to address how her voice keeps changing? Even her accent is different.”

“Beautiful,” I grab her by her shoulders and pull her to face me so that I can look into her brown eyes. “You’re not alone in there, are you?”

“No,” she says with a smile, “I’m not. She’s here, too.”

“Who the fuck is ‘she’?” Yoongi questions Tia, obviously on edge.

“Well, it’s an honor to officially meet you, fine gentlemen,” she says as her eyes switch, letting me know that I’m not tripping. “My name is Tilly.” She looks around at all of us, then reaches for Yoongi. “Are you okay, Suga’? Why, you look more nervous than a cat in a room full of rocking chairs. I swear, I don’t bite.”

Her voice is now smooth as velvet and her southern drawl sounds sweet as honey.

“Tilly…Tilly…Tilly,” Yoongi says, seeming to search the database that is his memory. “That name sounds so familiar for some reason! Where have I heard that name?”

“Tia has filled me in and let me know that the energy in the house is so high and we’re all vibrating at a crazy frequency right now which is allowing us to witness things we usually can’t,” Jin mentions. “But you used to know Tilly very well. Much like you now know Tia. Is that right?” Tilly just smiles, validating his statement.

“Well, yes and no, hun,” Tilly corrects him. “Tia and I are connected in a mighty special way. My time here on earth was many moons ago, but God saw fit to reunite me with my loves. You see, their lives were taken much too soon and we all suffered at the hands of a Burton, just like y’all. Because of that, the males in that family were cursed, having to wear a scar, a mark to symbolize their transgressions and they never find true love in their lifetimes. My soul was reincarnated in Tia and my loves are within you, which is why you may have fragments of memories, information, and may even dream of things you’ve never seen or experienced. Whenever a little voice has tried to redirect you or keep you out of harm’s way, sometimes it was us. We have protected you your whole lives and in return we have been blessed with a second chance through y’all. I’ve been able to tag along with Tia since she was born and can now communicate with her and you like this because of her familial gifts. I’m so grateful, darlin’, for you allowing me to ride along and for allowing me to tell my story in hopes of explaining some of yours,” Tilly says, with her hand over her heart as if speaking inwardly.

“That explains what I saw earlier! I saw them, like, inside of you two,” Yoongi says, pointing at Hoseok and Jungkook. “It’s like we were moving in slow motion, trying to get to Tia, when I saw you guys split into two people. Like a twin, but I could feel that they weren’t you.”

“I saw it, too! My arm split when I was throwing the salt, just like you’re describing. Jason was glitching as well, but it didn’t look like a twin,” Jin recalls. “Was that his reincarnated version?”

“No, that was his great-great-grandpa, the man that murdered my guys. The anger and entitlement in them two was so strong. They were able to manifest that creature in an attempt to claim us, Tia and me.”

“Oh my God, that is horrible. What happened to them?” The empathy and genuine concern in Namjoon’s eyes is comforting, even for me.

“Well, we were upstairs, asleep in this very house, when he came over here drunk as a skunk. It wasn’t uncommon for him and his flunkies to come by some nights, yelling and screaming profanities and racist remarks. They even vandalized our property and tried to antagonize the guys, but that night was different. Long story short, he threw a homemade bomb through the living room window and the fuel he used lit the house up like Sunday morning.”

“Wait! That’s what Tony did with that boulder,” Jungkook adds.

“Yep. It was the same window,” Tilly verified before continuing. “When the fire started, it all happened so fast and the house was engulfed before we knew it. We tried our best to escape but only I made it out. Jin was the one to push me out of the window to safety after realizing we all couldn’t get out in time,” she says with fat tears in her eyes as if she’s reliving that day all over again. She looks at him and says, “That’s why it had to be you to finish all this.”

“I’m so sorry to hear that all of that happened to you,” I say, feeling so sad for her. For them.

“Thank you, baby, but it ain’t nothing to sit down and holler about now. It is right sad, but what’s done is done. Plus, I’ve been able to reunite with my hunnies. We’ve been able to watch over y’all as you grew up, matured, and came back together, which has been an utter delight to see.” Her smile warms my heart and I find comfort in knowing they have been looking out for us. “Now that everyone is here, we can all go in peace. I reckon our work here is done for now. We don’t have much time before we’re called home to glory,” she says.

“No, you can’t go so soon. We’ve just gotten a chance to talk to you,” Hoseok says to her.

“Bless your sweet heart,” she says, now holding his hand. “But with my girl on your side, we won’t be too far away.”

We watch as she steps out of Tia’s body, wearing a tan dress with beige kitten heels, and her natural hair is twisted to the back with a side part like Tia wears sometimes. Now, seeing her individually, I can make out subtle differences between her and Tia besides her eye color, which I'm sure most are due to the evolution of fashion over the centuries, though she is still just as beautiful, inside and out. She begins to walk away, holding Tia’s hand until the last second until only their fingertips are touching. They are smiling at each other like two sisters, not saying ‘goodbye’, but ‘see you later’ to each other.

Tilly walks through our huddle, stopping to embrace each of us along the way, and once on the other side she says, “Come on fellas, let’s hit the road.”

We all gasp loudly while watching our counterparts pull apart from us and, much like watching Tia and Tilly, I’m able to take in their true features. Looking at myself in awe, I notice his outfit and his hairstyle, and I must admit, I’m fly. Well, he’s fly. We’re fly? Whatever, but I would definitely rock this fit even today! I look around at everyone else’s partner, and I’m thoroughly entertained. I wouldn’t believe this shit if I wasn’t witnessing it with my own eyes.

“You’ve worked hard, brother. Please know that we are always here watching over you all as your spirit guides. If you ever need us, just give us a holler.” I can feel the weight of his hand when he rests it on my shoulder and then gives it an encouraging squeeze before he floats over to hug Tia. He makes his way around the group, as they all do, spreading love, genuine care, and motivating words.

Not gonna lie. I’m sad to see them all go and watch as they leave the kitchen with arms linked, holding hands, or arms draped across shoulders. We all curiously follow them and watch when they travel into the library, heading straight for the far wall. I’m trying not to blink, not wanting to miss a second and watch as they dematerialize, abandoning their physical forms for a lavender-looking billow of smoke. It moves to slip under the bottom shelf of the bookcase with Jungkook and Hoseok following close behind.

“There’s something under here,” Hoseok says.

The guys come back over to us, Hoseok with what looks like a small, lilac-dyed, leather-bound journal and Jungkook with photos. “Holy shit,” he says, looking down at the pictures and then handing them to Jin.

We all huddle around, trying to get a better look at what looks like Tia wearing a flower crown. Then a picture of all of us.

“Wait a minute, is this-,” Namjoon starts.

“-their wedding portrait!” Yoongi finishes.

“Wow, this is so wild! They look just like us and are all dressed so nicely for their special day,” Jin adds.

“We should frame these!”

“And hang them in here!”

Taehyung and Namjoon speak in unison as if sharing a brain cell.

“Damn, this is so beautiful,” I say. “We should recreate these if we decide to have a wedding one day.”

Tia’s scruffy voice has returned when she agrees with me and says,“Oh, Jiminie, I love that idea. We absolutely should!”

A/N:

Y’all…have you heard/seen the TikTok where a lady says, “What fucking lady?!” after someone has her believing that a ghost is in the room? That’s what I thought about when I wrote Yoongi’s reaction to Tilly 🤣 Special thanks to @yoongiobsessed for beta reading this chapter for me! 💜

#joonslfttiddie #bangtanwhq #ambw #bts fanfction #bts fanfic #bts smut #reincarnation #reincarnated lovers #reverse harem #kim namjoon #kim seokjin #min yoongi #jung hoesok #park jimin #kim taehyung #jeon jungkook #bts

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aajjks · 11 months ago

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BC!JK

“i’m sorry” you say as you bite your bottom lip and you feel like you’re already causing jungkook trouble. he probably thinks you’re a drama queen and maybe you are but you genuinely are afraid of dogs. if it weren’t for your growling stomach you probably would have been in bed yet here you are slowly walking to the theatre-looking living. you take a seat on the couch and after a few minutes of jungkook surfing the catalogue of movies, he finally finds one for the both of you to watch called ‘clueless’ a rather popular movie in the states and danielle’s favorite movie growing up.

at first, you’re a bit awkward with jungkook. you sit on the furthest side of the couch with your legs up to your chest but 40 minutes into the movie, you’re criss-crossed on the couch, happily munching the seasoned meat, and a little closer to jungkook than before.

you won’t lie, when you see the two main characters kiss and flirt with each other, it reminds you of eunwoo. you both were so awkward with each at first and although that was mainly your fault, you eventually warmed up to him. you loved him unconditionally and you still do.

“eunwoo! stooop~”

“you’re such a butthole sometimes. you’re lucky i love you”

“did you say you love me? i-i love you too!!!”

but look at you now…

without startling jungkook who seems to be focused on the television screen, you use your arm to wipe your brewing tears and just suck them up. it’s all in the past now and you can move past this.

like ariana said, thank you next right? you can do that because you are fucking grateful for your ex. you miss him, but you’re grateful and you’re going to move on. you know you will.

“i think i’m going to go to bed. it’s getting late and i have work tomorrow” you say “do you want me to clean my plate?” but jungkook takes it from you and tells you he’ll do it himself.

you tell jungkook ‘goodnight’ before going to your bedroom and falling face first into your pillows so your crying could be muffled.

see? you’re doing great!

Last night he knows it was a little- no it was really hard for you because your asshole of an ex broke up with you and as much as he’s glad that eunwoo broke your heart in the worst way possible, but… you didn’t deserve that.

Today is a new day, so he just wants to make it worth it for you, and Jungkook isn’t exactly the best at thinking of ways to make people get over their heart breaks… he never got over his, so how is he going to help you get over yours?

And yes, he did get up early today, just so he could make you breakfast and make sure that you actually eat, and to be fair, he had the greatest sleep of his life last night because of the knowledge that you are literally in his home with him.

And for the first time he didn’t feel alone. Quite literally. And that was a really good feeling.

“Ahhh yn? Are you awake?” he’s knocking at your door.- with a tray full of food in his hands. he would love to do these little things for you and he doesn’t mind cooking for you at all.

“I brought food.” he says once again, in a slightly louder tone just so you can really hear him. He stares at his wrist watch, it’s 8 AM and you do not strike him as the type to be a night owl, but maybe just cried yourself to sleep last night.

There is a possibility of that.

He wants to kill eunwoo for making you go through this- jungkook honestly thought that he would enjoy seeing you suffer in your heartbreak, but he is not enjoying this at all.

It’s so clear that you’re not over him at all and he knows that it’s gonna take you a lot of time and he doesn’t know that if he’s patient enough to deal with that without snapping at you and forcing you to love him…

The thought of doing that to you is scary and he does not think he’s capable of that but he hopes that you won’t make him come to doing that.

“Yn sweetheart please open the door.”

Yeah, and he has to get to the company at nine am. And also, didn’t you mention that you have also had work? so you should be awake by now.

#ask: bc!jk

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special-bc-ur-part-of-it · 1 year ago

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Fun question!

As a fan of chris colfer and/or Darren criss and you get into break into their house, what would be one thing that you would steal?

oh hi thanks

Chris's house I'm stealing books. either his own or ones he reads, doesn't matter, I wanna know what's on his bookshelves

Darren's... can I steal Darren himself? jk, jk. I'm stealing jackets, I love that man's wardrobe

#asks #answered #anna shame-is-a-wasted-emotion

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ramyaknox · 1 year ago

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I've just started Tom Felton's autobiography beyond the wand. I'd been putting it off because thinking about Harry Potter tends to upset me nowadays because of the stuff with JK Rowling. But I really ran out of stuff to read and I thought I'd start it and it got me thinking a lot again.

I am no longer supporting JK Rowling monetarily but for me the lines are blurred on what is seen as support for her and what is engagement with a fandom that I love. Emma Watson writes in the introduction of the book that the core message of the potter books is friendship and I belive by extension acceptance. I have read so many analyses of everything wrong with the books, but despite that, the core message of friendship and kindness and acceptance and a need for systemic change is one I still value and there are characters I related to that I still love.

And I feel guilty about this, I know that the best thing to do in many peoples eyes is to let harry potter fade away and I do not want to be perceived as transphobic or a threat to others. But despite all this, I still care about harry potter and what happens to it in the future. It breaks my heart to see the fandom filled with people spouting transphobia and people who once felt safe now afraid. But I don't want the fandom to be left to these people because honestly at the end of the day I feel hurt that my special interest, something that has allowed me to make friends and to learn about myself and has offered me comfort throughout every significant moment of my life has been tainted by the person who created it and that this is hurting innocent people.

But then I listen to a very potter sequal and I hear Darren criss say hogwarts is bigger than us, it's bigger than any of its founders. And I wonder if there's people out there who are unsure like me what to do and who are trying their best to let go of something that means so much, who question why this is so difficult and whether it's even the right thing to do or whether there's a way forward that can support trans people and make the hp fandom a safe place again.

I want to support trans people, if you are following me and trans I hope you have read this far and that you understand how overwhelmed this all makes me feel and that this situation is something I take very seriously. I had to post about it because I want to be honest and because I think about it often.

I'm not tagging anything because I don't want this to get to people who don't want to hear about this, I just want to put it out somewhere.

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datshitrandom · 3 years ago

Photo

Darren Criss attends the Dior Homme show, during Paris Men's Fashion Week Spring/Summer 2019 | June 23, 2018

#Darren Criss #Darren x Dior #Paris Men's Fashion Week 2018 #June 2018 #Dior T-shirt with Bee Embroidery #Dior Black Wool Jogging Bottoms #stupid darren looking like a freaking model in the first pic i hate you #jk I love him very much #Pink 💕#random events #please do not repost

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thedoctorisinlove · 2 years ago

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could you possibly do eddie munson x reader where he lets them braid his hair? :) it'll all just be cute & fluff

eddie munson ; playing with his hair headcanons

genre : fluff & slightly suggestive

pairing : eddie munson x gender neutral reader

disclaimer : mentions of sexual tension, mentions of making out

author's note : hello anon! thank you so much for the request. i wasn't sure how to write this all out as headcanons but i tried my best and i hope you enjoyed it! :)

⋆ as well can tell, eddie's hair is a literal mess that's easily comparable to a bird's nest. braiding his mess of a hair is like taking literal clumps of hair and smushing them up. even if you straighten his hair with a straightener, it's impossible for it to be straight.

⋆ but you make do with it. if you're braiding his hair, your go-to braids for eddie are bubble braids.

⋆ he loves how funky they look, and he'd constantly beg for you to use those funky hair ties instead of the plain black ones. he says they're too boring for his taste and he'd much prefer hair ties with those big, ruffly frilly bows of neon colors. he's a big child at heart and also just wants to get some laughs out of it.

⋆ he'd literally go to school the next day with it. when he gets back, you just see a shitton of random shit on his hair now. glitter everywhere, stickers that're dangling out of his hair, a missing bow on a hair tie. and you're just like how tf did this happen 😭.

⋆ the entire time, eddie, being the little annoying shit he is (jk he isn't i love him sm), he'll be like "so did you know what fucking jessica did today?" and literally would just gossip and ramble on and on about his schoolday or stupid shit like "if i had 9 toes, would you still love me?"

⋆ eddie refuses to have you braid his hair anywhere except on the floor. he's the type of mf that criss cross applesauce. you literally can't do his hair unless you both are on the ground. if you're doing his hair in his room on his bed, his mind'll wonder off and his head will keep moving. if you're doing it on his lap or vice versa, just forget doing his hair at all at that point. he'll be making out with you the entire night.

⋆ now, if you accidentally tug his hair, a low groan slips out of eddie's lips. and you pause and notice a dent on his jeans and you're like "dude are you s r s or slash j". just tease the fuck out of him, he'll go quiet instantly. his face will be pale in from forcing himself not to go red from your words. that or he'll tease back and the entire place will be filled with sexual tension.

⋆ if you're doing his hair late at night, man's on the brink of falling asleep but he's pulling through for you. you can feel his cheek nudging slightly towards more to your fingers that're working on his sides. he's trying to warm his own face up with the warmth of your finger.

⋆ if you're just simply playing with his hair, especially during nighttime and you guys are just on his bed together, he'll instantly fall asleep with your hands in his hair. he craves your touch every second of the day, he's the most at peace with you like this. once he's drifting off to sleep, you can notice even notice a small smile make its' way on his face. not his regular snarky smiles, but a smile that's genuinely at peace.

⋆ once you take off eddie's hair ties, his will be a big ass mess, messier than his normal hair. ruffle his hair a bit please, he loves it when you do that everytime you take off the hair ties. he'll be planting several small kisses on your lips after, i promise.

#stranger things #stranger things season 4 #stranger things s4 #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things eddie #stranger things eddie x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x reader hcs #eddie munson x reader headcanon #eddie munson x reader headcanons #stranger things eddie munson #eddie munson x reader fanfic #eddie munson x reader fanfiction #eddie munson x reader fic

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joheunsaram · 3 years ago

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glitter and disquiet (jjk) - final

Part of the Sons of Midas Collab

Part 1 | Part 2 | Drabble

Summary- Poised to inherit Korea’s largest gaming company in a few months, the world looks at Jeon Jungkook as a symbol of envy. Why wouldn’t they? He has everything, riches, power, and according to the rumour mill, endless women. Little do they know that his father’s company is on the verge of downfall, he barely has respect of his employees, and regardless of the rumours, he’s just a virgin saving himself for true love.

word count - 17.6k

pairing- ceo!Jungkook x youtuber!Reader

rating- R

genre- angst, smut, fluff, chaebol!au

warnings- virgin!Jungkook, mentions of cheating, divorce, open relationships, descriptions of anxiety and panic attacks, car accident, hospitals, alcoholism, depression, vanilla smut including unprotected sex, oral (f receiving), lots and lots of crying and misunderstandings, Jungkook a lowkey asshole in this, Jungkooks also a big Dawson’s Creek fanboy (see his boat lol)

a.n- And we’re finally at the end of this story! It took a while but there were a lot of strings to tie in this story. I hope you enjoy the ending and that I did justice to this version of our overly-romantic jk.

A big warm thank you to @oftenderweapons @hobiandsprite for beta reading this and helping me plan it out! ily guys you keep me sane and happy 💕

As always feedback appreciated, a reblog and a like goes a far way. Send me an ask! 💌

It’s a funny thing, trust. We give it away so easily, almost on the daily. We trust that drivers racing past us on a highway are capable enough not to crash into us. We trust that the high school student making our coffee wouldn’t tamper with it. We trust the coworkers we are paired with for a big project not to sabotage our efforts for a promotion. But most of all, we trust strangers we have only spent mere months with not to break our hearts.

You trusted Jungkook, laying naked in bed in a random room on that yacht, with a giddy smile on your face. You stared at the opulent ceiling, decorated with ornate designs carved into the pale oak. It was beautiful — a criss-cross of vines that overlapped each other, but regardless of the intricacies it was an odd optical illusion of sorts, leaving you a little uneasy. The vines seemed as if they were moving, the slight rocking of the river making it vividly overwhelming.

Taking a deep breath you averted your gaze, burrowing into the sheets, suddenly cold. Perhaps it was sea sickness, but suddenly you felt a little anxious. You laid there for a while, waiting for Jungkook to return but when half an hour passed and his phone kept going to voicemail, you decided to change back into your dress.

You bit your lip as you texted him while fixing your hair in the mirror attached to one of the walls near the door. As the minutes ticked by without a response, you felt worry settle in the pit of your stomach. Jungkook wasn’t someone who would abandon you like that, without a word — especially after the intimate moment you had just shared.

Walking into the hallway, you decided to go look for your boyfriend. It felt odd thinking about him as your boyfriend. In fact, it felt odd thinking about Jungkook as anything other than the cold playboy from your class that you loved to bicker with. You couldn’t help the giddy smile on your face as a montage of your month together played in your head. They way he had gone from the reserved quiet man to the doting one who never shut up about the latest game he was playing.

The party was still in full swing when you reached the deck, and when after a few rounds around the dance floor and bar you still hadn’t seen Jungkook, you felt your worry return. You didn’t even see his friends, and you couldn’t help the chill that climbed up your spine at the realization. Something had to be wrong.

Before you could dwell too much on worst case scenarios you heard your name being called.

Hoseok stood behind you when you turned, face pale, hair dishevelled from running his fingers through it as he spoke in flurried words that were hard to understand. He seemed panicked, fidgeting with his tie as he loosened it in an attempt to breathe more easily.

“Hoseok, calm down. What’s wrong?” you asked, bracing your hands on his shoulders and breathing deeply, encouraging him to mimic your movements.

“Candy was in an accident. Jungkook too. Hospital. Let’s go.” His words were still rapid, but the moment you heard your boyfriend’s name you felt your heart drop, your ears ringing with static.

You followed Hoseok to the water taxis, the two of you almost sprinting and thanking your luck that there was one already waiting. It was a quick drive to the hospital, with Hoseok breaking almost every single traffic law to arrive faster while you sat, willing your heart to slow down. He couldn’t leave you. Not after a month. Not after just asking you to be his girlfriend.

You tried not to tear up, but Hoseok was mute from the moment he started driving, jaw set and a hand playing with his ear for comfort. He never elaborated on either person’s condition, and all you could think of was how fleeting everything seemed. You thought of Jungkook on top of you, leaning on his forearm as he nuzzled your nose with his, his eyes shining brightly, cheeks blushed as he asked you to be his girlfriend. Of his stupid wink as he told you to stay naked that you rolled your eyes at. The more the scene looped in your head, the harder the lump in your throat became, heart pounding. Don’t be negative. He’s fine. He’s going to be absolutely fine.

You repeated the mantra, forcing your eyes to remain dry, as Hoseok and you raced through the doors of the hospital. The same one where you had kept Jungkook company as he stayed with his mother. You held back the tears, all through Hoseok’s questioning of the head nurse on duty. Held them back while she informed the two of you of how they had been t-boned on the highway into the city, how Candy was rushed into surgery, and how Jungkook was still getting his MRIs done. You even held them back when the nurse directed you to a private waiting room, an empty room with a few tables and couches, snacks and a large television. A television that was displaying a news report about the accident.

Candy and Jungkook’s photographs covered the screen, the reporter informing the audience of how their condition was unknown. When the scene changed to show the wreckage, it was the last straw. A loud sob escaped your throat as you watched a black Mercedes almost flattened from the side, glass glittering on the asphalt as the truck that had hit them looked almost unscathed in comparison.

You clutched your mouth as the television became blurry behind your tears. Next to you, you could hear Hoseok’s breath catch as he scrambled for the remote to turn off the gore. The silence was deafening, only broken by your anguished cries.

You didn’t realize you were kneeling till Hoseok joined you on the floor, pulling your body into his in a tight embrace. The rocking of your bodies seemed almost automatic, and amidst the panic you wondered why humans rocked themselves for comfort. It was soothing, burying your face in Hoseok’s chest as you tried to convince each other that the people you had given your hearts to were going to be safe.

It might have been minutes or hours, you didn’t know, all you knew was that your tears had run dry, their existence now painted onto Hoseok’s shirt and your puffy eyes. Walking to the table with snacks, you made two coffees, handing one to Hoseok who still had tears running down his face. He took it, making no effort to take a sip as his fingers drummed on the table.

“I think it’s my fault,” Hoseok said quietly after a moment, his face hallowed in realization as he looked at you with wide eyes.

“Don’t say that,” you chastised, holding his hand. He squeezed back, explaining that he had been calling and messaging Candy nonstop, that she probably got distracted. He seemed to be talking himself into another panic, but you held both of his hands trying to distract him from his overthinking.

“They are going to be okay, Hoseok,” you said, voice more stable and determined than you anticipated. “Repeat after me, they are going to be okay.”

You waited for him to clear his throat before he repeated your mantra, voice waterlogged. He followed your instructions a few times, before prying his hands from yours and running them through his hair in frustration.

“I love her, Y/N. I don’t know what I’m going to do… if…” He trailed off, face scrunched in an effort to control his sobs.

“They are going to be okay,” you repeated, no other words bringing you comfort in the moment. Hoseok was practically a stranger, but you wanted to help him. You let him bury his head in your neck, returning the favour, as the two of you sat at the table, waiting for some news - any news.

Much more put together than you were earlier, you comforted Hoseok with optimistic words, even though your chest was aching with uncertainty. When the door opened you both jumped, hoping for a nurse with an update, but it was only Seokjin and Yoongi, walking in with equally worried expressions. Expressions that turned cold once they landed on you.

“No. What the fuck is she doing here?” Yoongi sneered, almost stomping over to where you were sitting, eyes boring into a confused Hoseok. When Hoseok didn’t reply in the thirty seconds Yoongi had patience for, he turned to you, his gaze making you feel the smallest you had ever felt.

“Get. Out.” He gritted. You didn’t understand where this malice was coming from, all you wanted was to wait for news about Jungkook. Regardless of how intimidating Yoongi was, you were not leaving without seeing your boyfriend.

“No,” you replied, matching his icy tone. You stood up, crossing your arms in defiance as you continued to stare down the man in front of you. Although you were sure on the outside you seemed collected, calm even, inside you were terrified. You were scared for Jungkook, and you were scared of the powerful men in the room who seemed to suddenly have it out for you.

Unlike Jungkook and his friends that celebrated birthdays on anchored yachts in the middle of the Han river, you had never even seen a yacht until that day. You didn’t grow up in fancy private schools, with luxury at your beck and call. You supported yourself through terrible part time jobs, from working in a convenience store to a disgusting factory just to scrape by until your hobby somehow paid off and you could pursue the graduate degree you wanted. You were older than everyone in your class, often looked down upon for being a ‘mature’ student, but you were proud. You were proud that your life had given you the strength to survive on your own two feet and to stand up to Yoongi at that moment.

Walking away from the man towering over you, you sat on the other end of the room, claiming your right to be there for your boyfriend. Yoongi just laughed at that; a harsh, almost manic cackle, before leaving to call security.

You still held your ground when two burly men arrived to escort you out, but despite your protests and pleas for at least an update on Jungkook’s condition, Yoongi won. He smirked at you as you left, while Seokjin and Hoseok stood back awkwardly, not meeting your eyes. It took everything in you not to break down, but you were not going to give them the satisfaction.

Your head hurt, heart even more so, when you finally reached the entrance of the hospital. You couldn’t believe the treatment Jungkook’s best friends had given you — a bitterness carving into your chest. Your only way of knowing if he was okay was through social media and the news.

You didn’t sleep that night, the inescapable image of the totalled Mercedes invading your thoughts, leaving your limbs heavy and your mind a wreck, till you had no choice but to return to the hospital.

----------

It was pretty fitting the way the rain fell upon the large windows, the droplets leaving trails that refracted the lights of passing cars into glimmers of rainbows before disappearing into nothing. Jungkook’s pinky twitched in his cast, and he finally understood why everyone made fun of him for his stupid theories. He rolled his eyes at his past self — he had been so naive. Soulmates weren’t real. They only appeared in myths and movies because they were fictional.

The past eighteen hours had taught Jungkook that he was no longer that boy believing in fairytales and true love. In fact the past month had been nothing but a glaring reminder of how fictional love really was. From his parents to his closest friends, everyone was broken because they decided to chase it. Love wasn’t attainable, it was lore spun by people to fall into the comfort of another; to stave off loneliness. Love was a trap.

Well, Jungkook was no longer going to fall for it. Fuck love. All it did was put him in a state of complacency where he had not only left himself vulnerable, but his father’s legacy as well. He chuckled bitterly at the thought. He truly was a cliche of those noir films — the gullible victim of corporate espionage.

He tapped at the glass, trying to see if it would affect the raindrops. It didn’t, much like how his anger and disdain for you did nothing to erase the way he still felt about you. He buried the feeling. It was useless to him now, after all.

The beep of Candy’s heart monitor rang through the empty ICU room and he made it his focus. When she had initially been brought back after her surgery, the room had been full of relief, but now it was eerily quiet, no one having the strength to talk anymore. It was oddly reminiscent of when his mother was laying in the same bed, and he loathed how, despite hating you, he missed how you calmed him, erasing his worst thoughts. He missed you.

He could see the sun starting to rise over the skyscrapers that surrounded the hospital, the morning sun bleary behind the dark clouds that hid it from view, painting the landscape grey. He sniffled, twin tear tracks painting his cheeks as visions of you danced behind his eyelids. Jungkook felt weak. What did it say about him, when out of the two women he’d ever loved, one was fighting for her life after saving his, and the other had made him believe she was doing the same, only to destroy everything he believed in?

With an unnecessary excuse to the room, he left, hoping a cup of coffee would clear his thoughts. Of course his stupid card didn’t work in the vending machine. God, he felt like shit.

He adjusted his neck brace, walking towards the cafeteria, but the whiplash from the accident was nothing compared to the one he felt when he saw you in the main lobby, hands crossed in your lap as you stared seemingly at nothing. You were still wearing the same dress you wore to his birthday, and he had an instant urge to run down the two flights of stairs into your arms, to hold you tight. It was like a reflex, overwhelming but natural, and he was almost at the staircase before his mind caught up with him. He shook his head, ignoring the sudden shooting pain, and changed directions.

The sun was shining brightly through the large windows when he reached the cafeteria. The coffee was bitter, and when he contemplated texting you back, he came across the group chat where all his friends were talking of your betrayal.

He locked his phone, and decided to wait in the cafeteria till Candy woke up.

----------

You sat in the lobby of the hospital for three days, hoping that someone would give you an update, but Jungkook was pretty much a celebrity and no one had an ounce of sympathy for you. Perhaps you were being excessive, but with all your messages and his phone always going to voicemail, you were hoping someone would let you know if he was at least alive. The news had forgotten the story in light of a celebrity dating scandal. The only reason you knew he was still there was because of the familiar faces that you would spy walking in during visiting hours and rushing to the elevator leading to the private wings.

One of those familiar faces was Jimin, the only one who noticed you sitting there. The frown on his face deepened when he reached you. Despite his cold posture, ramrod straight with a hand in his pocket, his face showed confusion.

“What are you doing here?” he asked in a hushed tone, as if he feared people questioning him if he were any louder.

“What do you think, Jimin?” You matched his tone, standing up, wanting to be as indifferent as he was, but your resolve lasted mere seconds before you were greedy for answers. “Is he okay?”

Jimin sighed, his face softening, before he placed a hand on your shoulder.

“He’s fine, Y/N. Just a broken wrist and a little whiplash. He’s going to be okay.” He squeezed your shoulder reassuringly.

Although Jimin’s words were meant to be reassuring, they only confused you further. If Jungkook was okay, why were you left in the dark? Why hadn’t he reached out? As if on instinct, you reached for your phone, brows furrowed as you tried to see if you had somehow missed his messages. Before you could express your confusion, Jimin sensed it, demeanour changing instantly as he crossed his arms.

“He’s not going to message you,” he said plainly.

“What? But why?” you asked softly, your heart feeling as if it had lodged itself in your throat.

“You seriously think he’s going to want to be with someone who was using him?” Jimin sneered with an eye roll, and suddenly your mind cleared. You searched your name and Saga Games, devastated to find the press release. When you looked up from your phone, Jimin was walking away.

“Wait! That’s not true!”

You ran after him, desperately wanting to explain yourself, only to get ignored as the elevator doors closed in your face.

----------

“Next time you almost kill yourself, please don’t profess your love for me.” Jungkook said sarcastically as Candy giggled over her jello cup. Blankets were pooled around her waist, hiding the large cast on her leg from view. Her face was bright, as always, despite the large bruises on her face, and Jungkook thought she looked as beautiful as ever. He wondered why he had stopped loving her. It had been almost ten years since his little crush started, and he didn’t understand himself. How could he yell at his father for giving up on love, when he himself gave up on his first love?

“I did that to save you, you ungrateful brat,” she retorted with a roll of her eyes, and Jungkook couldn’t help but be endeared, his nose scrunching as he smiled widely. After roaming the halls of the hospital for days and sneaking glances at you, always sitting in the same spot, he had felt a heavy weight on his chest. It seemed that no matter how much he wanted to, he couldn’t face you. He wanted to confront you, but he was a coward. Wasn’t he always?

When Candy had finally awoken, he felt lighter, the relief easing his heartbreak a little. She had spent so long away from him, even when she had returned to Seoul, that finally having her back in his life felt like a ray of sunlight breaking through the dark expanse of a forest. Perhaps that’s why her little giggles and jokes were making him confused.

She was barely even looking at him, her attention mostly on her phone as she continued listing things that she had done for him over their decade long friendship, and Jungkook felt stupid for letting her go. Why did he have to get over her and fall for you instead? If he could fall out of love with her, he could also fall back in love, right? Sure, she may be in love with Hoseok, but he could convince her otherwise, right?

Without another thought, he leaned forward, calling her name instead of the usual ‘noona’, and when she looked up at him, annoyed at his lack of respect, he couldn’t help himself. With a deep breath in, he closed the distance, molding his lips to hers. They were soft, lingering with the vanilla of her lip balm, but all he could feel was how they weren’t yours.

He had been dreaming of kissing Candy since he was fifteen. He expected it to feel like the movies, fireworks and pounding hearts, but all he felt was unease, a hollowness that only reminded him of how different this kiss was from the ones he had shared with you. With you he felt as if he was floating, like if he didn’t have your touch his heart would gallop out of his chest, but with Candy it felt clinical, like he was rehearsing lines for a play that would never open.

Despite his overthinking, the kiss was short lived; a quick meeting of their lips, and when he pulled away he couldn’t help how misty his eyes got. Nothing felt right. Would it ever feel right again? Perhaps you really were his soulmate, and it would make sense if he wasn’t yours. His life had been too easy, it would make sense that he couldn’t get everything he wanted. Perhaps he was meant to live in isolation — an island inhabited.

“Bunny… what?” Candy asked, shock written all over her face, and Jungkook felt even sadder. Had he also ruined his relationship with his best friend? Why were you doing this to him?

He apologized quickly, and when her face softened in what looked akin to pity, he couldn’t help the way his tears fell. He hadn’t cried since the night of the accident, and now he couldn’t stop. She cradled him in her arms, consoling him and it only made him sob harder. He didn’t even know why he was sad anymore. He was supposed to be mad at you, angry that you used him only to get intel on his company, but he had never felt more distraught in his entire life.

“Why didn’t it feel good?” he asked, his voice meek, betraying his inexperience and Candy sighed, her fingers running through his hair.

“Because you don’t love me like that, bunny. Sometimes… sometimes people are better as friends, and that’s okay. We’re okay, you know that right?”

“I shouldn’t miss her right? I shouldn’t love her,” he said, looking at her with tear filled eyes, and she smiled softly.

“It’s okay to miss her. It’s okay to feel what you’re feeling,” she reassured softly.

“Love is fucking stupid,” he lamented, leaning his head against her shoulder.

“That it is,” she chuckled. “Stupid, but worth it.”

Although he stayed silent, the ache in his heart disagreed. Perhaps if he saw you again, perhaps if you were sitting in the lobby like you had all those days, it would clear up the agony in his veins and treat his symptoms of heartbreak without curing the cause.

With just that thought rattling through him, he left his best friend’s embrace without a word, almost sprinting towards the lobby. He had hoped you’d still be there, but seeing you sitting in the uncomfortable plastic chair, half asleep, made his hands clammy with nerves.

You were dressed in an oversized hoodie, your frame almost swallowed by the black material, and with your feet folded under you, you looked almost tiny, timid unlike the animal your nickname had originated from. He had never seen you look so frail. He was the one supposed to be recovering from an accident, but all he could see was your hair carelessly tied in a bun, your eyes weighed down by dark rings around them.

He had told himself that he only had to see you once, just look at you and his anger would be back, but it was like he was on autopilot, and soon he was standing in front of you softly calling your name.

You jumped off the chair, unable to stop yourself from engulfing him in your arms. When you looked up at him, tears were streaming down your face, and when you cupped Jungkook’s face between your hands, he felt his heartbeat stutter, his hands mirroring your actions as if all on their own.

“You’re okay,” you whispered, as if in awe.

“I’m okay,” Jungkook answered, resisting the overwhelming urge to kiss you. Why did you look so sad? Why couldn’t you be cold and heartless like he had portrayed you in his head these past few days?

“Why didn’t you tell me?” you asked, wiping your tears with the sleeve of your sweater, something that made Jungkook want to do it for you instead. He wanted to make sure you were okay regardless of the fact that you had broken him. Instead, he stepped away from you, the distance feeling like miles instead of inches.

“I don’t want to see you anymore, Y/N,” Jungkook replied with a heavy sigh. He had to be rational about this, he couldn’t let his rose-coloured glasses warp his view of reality. Not again.

“Is this about Saga?”

“It’s about you lying to me and using me, Y/N,” Jungkook said coldly, and you couldn’t help the way your chest ached at his words. You never meant to hide this from him, in fact, the offer had pretty much slipped your mind. However, before you could reply, Jungkook was continuing, his words flurried.

“You lied to me. You made me think what we had was special — that it was something that mattered. But it never mattered, did it?” He scoffed, chuckling bitterly, before putting his hands on your shoulder. “I don’t need you. I don’t want you. Please leave,” he sighed before starting to walk away.

“But Jungkook, if you let me explain, I can fix us,” you started, almost sprinting after him to keep up with his pace.

“There is no us,” he replied, tone harsh and final. and you couldn’t help the way it cut deep within you. “I kissed Candy, by the way,” he added nonchalantly, despite knowing he was just trying to hurt you as much as you hurt him.

“That’s okay,” you said weakly, head downturned. You didn’t care who he kissed, as long as he gave you a chance to explain. You missed the way he faltered in his steps before continuing walking, too focused on the icy goodbye he tossed your way before he disappeared up the staircase.

You knew he was hurting, that you had unintentionally broken his trust, but you needed him to understand. You needed him back, because that month with Jungkook had probably been the best month of your life. You were never one to give up, and so standing in the lobby of the hospital, you decided just that.

You were going to win Jeon Jungkook back.

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Y/N: how’s my fav ta? Aaron: im great! how’s my fav ex? Y/N: oppa we dated for two months in high school. please get over me. Aaron: the utter disrespect smh. what you want? Aaron: and no im not changing your grade a 94 is good enough! Y/N: you know i deserved a 98 on that paper Aaron: yeaaaaaah right. your paper was pedantic and superfluous Y/N: jeez… i get it you’re a ta Y/N: but that’s not what i want Y/N: pair up me and jungkook for the next assignment Aaron: eww i dont wanna play matchmaker Y/N: come on pleaseeeee! Aaron: what do i get in return? Y/N: anything! Aaron: shout me out in your stream Y/N: that is the stupidest thing ive ever heard Aaron: do it Aaron: and you gotta say aaron is the best champcon player of all time Y/N: … Y/N: sure whatever ill lie for you Aaron: hell yeah Aaron: consider me bribed Aaron: and do remind jungkook this is how you bribe not with a wad of cash in a stupid handshake Y/N: i still cant believe he did that to yuna Aaron: shes straight up scarred dude lol

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Jungkook hated being discharged from the hospital. He had delayed his stay but after one week, he was essentially kicked out. It had been almost a month since he had been home, and although he should be happy that he was back, he despised the silence. It left him alone with his thoughts for too long. What was worse was that he could no longer disappear into work. Work used to help him drown out any silly thoughts, it was a reprieve from his overactive mind, but now working on the game reminded him of you.

As he coded the prototype, all he could see was your handwriting; the way you curved your c’s, and the way your w’s always had a little circle between them. It was stupid, but he could spend hours looking at your cursive — it was just so you, the letters engraved into the paper from your determined strokes, yet looking soft as if you wrote them down as an afterthought.

He groaned, tipping his head back, catching the attention of Namjoon’s puppy who took it as a sign to come nuzzle his legs. He couldn’t help the little smile that came over his lips and he picked up Gureum, letting him cuddle into him. The only bright thing about the past month had been Namjoon. For so long his hyung had been in this black hole of self-destruction that when he had asked to move in with him, Jungkook couldn’t open up his home fast enough.

When Namjoon moved in two weeks ago, it was a little heartbreaking. He could see the deep sadness rooted in the older man’s eyes and Jungkook felt helpless. He didn’t know how he could comfort his friend without breaking down himself, so the conversations remained surface-level. Jungkook tried to show him love by throwing away all alcohol in his house and making sure Namjoon ate and exercised. Once he adopted Gureum, Namjoon seemed a little lighter, but every week when he returned from therapy, he could see how burdened his soul was.

Jungkook sometimes saw him crying when he thought he wasn’t looking, silently wiping his tears as he stared out into the city, but he didn’t know how to make it better. What did Jungkook know about the depth of love Namjoon held for Princess, when all he had done was swim in the kiddie pool, too afraid to dive in, held back by his ideals. Maybe if he had more experience, it wouldn’t have hurt as much when you betrayed him and left him reeling. Perhaps it would hurt less. Maybe he should start being more adventurous, stop guarding his virginity like some trophy to present to his future wife.

And so Jungkook decided to download Tinder, trying to wrap his mind around the concept of one night stands. Even if he was terrible, he would never have to see that person again so there shouldn’t be any harm to venturing out. He had just set up his profile and was starting to swipe, when he involuntarily started imagining you doing the same. He hated it. What would he do if he came across your profile?

The thought sent chills down his spine as he tossed the phone to the side, groaning loudly yet again, startling a sleeping Gureum.

“Hey JK, want some food? I ordered pizza,” Namjoon said, walking into Jungkook’s bedroom, chuckling at his younger friend sprawled on the chair. He picked up the puppy from his lap, cooing at him, before asking Jungkook to come to the living room.

The smell of pepperoni and hot cheese permeated the room, making Jungkook’s stomach grumble as he sat on the couch, ready to devour. Dinner was fairly quiet, both men talking about their days. Namjoon had seen his therapist today, and although usually he was pretty guarded about what he shared during his sessions, he was forthcoming today.

“Eunho and I are working on a strategy,” Namjoon said, a little carefully, and Jungkook sat up at attention, swallowing his last bite. He felt honoured that his hyung was sharing something so personal with him. “Recognizing my patterns, you know, doing things that are terrible for me, to help me avoid dealing with things head on.”

Jungkook nodded, even though he didn’t understand the pointed stare Namjoon was giving him. His friend just shook his head, taking another bite before speaking, “Are there things that you do that are terrible for you?”

Jungkook looked at him, big eyes blinking in response. Deciding it would be better to share than let the novel conversation die out, he contributed. “Oh yeah totally. I tend to work a lot.”

“Yeah. I’ve noticed,” Namjoon said with an amused smile. “You haven’t left your room other than for work all of last week. Wanna talk about it?”

“Oh…” Jungkook said, realization dawning on him that Namjoon had just expertly got him to admit that he was avoiding something. With Namjoon’s recluse phase, Jungkook had almost forgotten how smart his friend was. Perhaps he could actually help him with his recent dilemma.

“Well, hyung, now that you bring it up… Should I get laid?” Jungkook asked, a little hesitant and internally cringing at his own weird comment. Namjoon just chuckled, shaking his head.

“I mean… Do you want to get laid?” Namjoon asked.

“I don’t know. Maybe I can forget about Y/N if I sleep with someone else? Like, I should be free, y’know? I feel like I’m stuck and I don’t wanna love her anymore but I can’t help it!” Jungkook grew exceedingly frustrated as he spoke, Namjoon staring at him with raised eyebrows.

Namjoon sighed before speaking, “You know, Jungkook, you can sleep with everyone in the world and it wouldn’t make it hurt less. Trust me, I know.”

He placed a hand on Jungkook’s knee, patting him slightly before standing up to clear the dishes while Jungkook contemplated his words. Namjoon was probably right. He had a few years of experience over him. But then again, shouldn’t Jungkook be free to make his own mistakes? To sleep around and find out for himself if it hurts less or not?

As Namjoon sat back down to play with the puppy, Jungkook unlocked his phone again. Swiping on Tinder seemed like a great way to forget about you all of a sudden.

----------

It turned out embarrassing yourself on stream by giving your TA a shout out wasn’t worth anything since Jungkook refused to correspond with you on anything other than emails — very well written, polite emails that were probably composed by his assistant. Jungkook was not only good at ghosting you over messages, but it seemed he had disappeared off the face of the planet.

Citing his very publicized accident, he had taken a leave of absence from school, opting to finish the second half of his final semester from home, completing his assignments and only showing up for tests. The professors didn’t care much — he was almost at the top of your class — but you did. You hated that you were relegated from someone he wanted to see everyday to a mere email, a colleague.

You were almost about to give up, forget all about the doe-eyed boy that brightened your life for a moment only to fade away like a momentary shooting star. You never expected to see him again, least of all here.

After over two months of dwelling over a one-day boyfriend, your friends had forced you to get out of your shell. Yugyeom’s party was supposed to be a reset, a way for you to let loose before letting go of Jungkook. A way to drink and maybe meet someone new to distract yourself.

You had put in more effort than you usually would, breaking out your lace bustier and expensive jeans that you saved only for when you went to snobby clubs downtown. It was your get-laid outfit, highlighting your curves in a way that would make any straight man’s mouth water, and you were proud of the makeup that accompanied your all black outfit. You were feeling confident and, with the two shots you had downed in your apartment, you felt light. All of which came to a standstill the moment you walked in and saw Jungkook standing between a girl’s legs as she sat on the kitchen counter.

You hated how your heart dropped at the view. While he barely noticed you, the way his hands were gripping her hips and his lips caressed her jaw as he spoke would be forever etched in your mind. You had spent months trying to get in touch with him, crying over him, worrying over his health, but he seemed content in forgetting about you. You never thought a man would have reduced you to a shell of yourself, but Jeon Jungkook seemed to excel at everything — even breaking hearts.

Grabbing a bottle of tequila from the counter, you solidified your resolve to forget about the heartbreaker in the leather jacket, and focused on finding someone you could take home. If idealistic virgin Jungkook had no problem moving on from your short-lived romance, then why should you pay him any more mind?

Fuck Jungkook, you thought as your eyes met those of the cute host from across the room. You were going to have fun.

You took a big, burning sip straight from the bottle before making your way over to Yugyeom, missing the way Jungkook stared at your retreating figure.

----------

Jungkook really wanted to pay attention to his date. He really wanted to be the person Jimin had coached him to be while chatting to Jisoo over Tinder. It was going well so far. He was the epitome of the suave playboy that all the tabloids painted him as. He was calm and collected, not even batting an eyelash at how forward Jisoo got after the two of them had shared a few things. She was pulling at his shirt, kissing his neck, and Jungkook wasn’t scared of letting her down because he truly didn’t care if she thought he was good in bed or not. Why should he when he was never going to see her again?

But then he turned around.

And there you were giggling at some joke a guy was making, your arms around his neck as you sat in his lap. All he could do was watch the way his hands massaged your thigh and how you bit your lip in response, eyes half lidded. It was like watching a gruesome car crash, his stomach turning but his body frozen as you leaned into the dark haired man, pulling his lips to yours.

It was as if his legs moved on their own, marching him to where you sat. He didn’t know what came over him, he wasn’t usually one for confrontation, but suddenly he was pulling you up dragging you across the house, trying doors till he found one that was open. He hated that he was being this way, still pining for you when your actions had made it clear that he wasn’t anyone to you, but he blamed the tequila in his veins. Why else would his heart be leaping out of his chest at you scowling at him?

“What the fuck, Jeon?” you yelled, pulling your arm from his grip as he closed the door behind him.

“What are you doing?” he retorted, his voice thankfully not betraying how he was quaking inside.

“Why do you care?” you asked, and he could see how your fists were balled, your arms shaking slightly. He couldn’t help stepping closer to you, a hand gently placed on your elbow in an attempt to stop the quiver.

“Because,” he answered, a little petulant but he was stubborn and he didn’t even know why he had done what he did. Because I still love you like an idiot, a voice said at the back of his head, but he ignored it, opting to finish his sentence there. He had told you himself that he never wanted to see you again, but still he dragged you here. He hated himself, but looking at your fiery gaze and alcohol-reddened cheeks, he realized he could never hate you. No matter how much he wanted to.

“Because what?” you screamed in frustration, your hands pulling at your hair. “Why are you doing this to me? Why are you making this so hard?”

“Because,” he said, moving closer to you, his heart leaping at how you didn’t step back. He could see the tears lining your eyes, just on the edge of falling and with the music muffled through the door, he moved even closer. Maybe it was the alcohol or maybe it was that for the first time in months he’d felt a semblance of an emotion, but his hands were cupping your face as he stared in your eyes. Your hands grasped his wrists, searing the skin, and he couldn’t hide the truth anymore.

“Because I don’t want to keep kissing people and pretending they’re you anymore,” he whispered, his lips meeting yours.

You and him had shared kisses that felt like fireworks, explosions of wonders, but kissing you now was calming, almost serene; like he was finally home. Your lips slotted perfectly against his and it made him lose his breath. Behind the taste of liquor you’d been drinking was the familiar taste of your cherry lip tint, and the even more familiar taste of just simply you. He could never forget the perfect medley that was embedded in his head, the one he had been searching fruitlessly for a month with nameless Tinder dates.

When you put your arms around him, he pulled you closer and it was as if nothing had changed. As if the two of you were still in his apartment kissing without reservations and it was always August 31st. But it wasn’t and as he refamiliarized himself with your mouth, his father’s voice from this morning rang inside his head, sobering him.

“Son, is this true?”

Jungkook could see that one vein popping in his father’s forehead, the one he remembered from whenever he got a bad grade in high school or stayed out too late. He hadn’t seen it in a while but it took him back, his eyes widening in fear of a scolding.

“Is Y/N really the enemy? I thought she was on our side? What’s this about Saga?”

The enemy. He hadn’t thought of you like that but his father’s venom-filled words made sense. How else would he describe someone who strung him along, fed him lies, made him fall in love to take it all away for something as megre as monetary gain?

It was when his father decided to scrap the game you helped him build, the one that he had been meticulously coding for months that he realized how much you took from him. His father benched him from his plans of a takeover till further notice, and Jungkook was left with nothing, no work to distract him any more. Just bitter pain.

“I can’t do this,” he breathed, pulling back, hating how his tongue came out to taste you on his lips one last time. “I can’t… I can’t be with the enemy.”

It was stupid, it was impulsive, but when the dazed look in your eyes turned into rage, Jungkook couldn’t stay in the room anymore. Turning around, he walked away. Out of the bedroom, out of the house, aimlessly roaming the street, trying to stop the way his lip wobbled.

It was what he was supposed to do, but he couldn’t help missing you all the same.

----------

The steam from the two cups of coffee flitted in the air, the smell invigorating after a sleepless night. The bleached white of the cups, tainted by a drop of the spilled beverage, matched the small table with its checkered red pattern. It was quiet except for the chatter of a few customers who rushed to grab their orders before leaving. The small cafe was almost empty because who else would be sitting and enjoying breakfast at 8am on a Tuesday?

Jungkook almost regretted agreeing to come meet you, but after how he had acted at the party, his guilt wouldn’t let him rest, forcing him to read and reread the text you had sent him. It was a little scary how he knew how you took your coffee in the morning, but hadn’t known that you were going to stab him in the back. He bit back the bitterness, however.

Hi. I would like to meet up face to face to finish off our project. You can send your assistant if you want, but after how you treated me on Saturday, I think I deserve a meeting, don’t you think so?

He read over your message again as he waited. He had contemplated sending Seungwon in his stead, but something about your tone made him rethink it. He didn’t appreciate being called out, although he was fully aware what an ass he had been, alcohol or not. The utter embarrassment he faced when he walked into his apartment to see Namjoon staring at him was enough for him to agree. He hadn’t disclosed to his friend why he was so torn up, but Namjoon was smart and didn’t need a memo to catch on. Jungkook shuddered imagining the scolding he would receive if the older man was made privy to the real reason he was so shaken up.

He took a sip of his coffee, enjoying the way the warm liquid soothed him, and then his pinkie twitched. He glared at the digit, his romanticized thoughts bothering him once again, but his reprieve was cut short by a gust of wind that cut his cheeks as the door opened.

He couldn’t help but be a little endeared at your appearance, your figure swallowed under a large puffy coat, the fur trimmed hood atop your head and face almost hidden under the woolen scarf around your neck. He couldn’t help remembering how cold your hands always were. He wondered if your feet got cold too — if you would warm them up against his in bed. Not that he would allow himself to ever know for sure.

Schooling his forlorn expression into a smile, he stood up, pulling the chair out for you, only to be stopped by you raising your hand towards him.

“Don’t bother, this won’t take long,” you said, your tone colder than the snowy weather outside as you took off the hood to reveal your face, nose a bright red from the cold. Before he could say anything you were slamming a large stack of dog eared papers on the table. You handed him a few sheets of paper, the assignment topic written at the top in bolded letters. Corporate Espionage: The Grey Morality in a Digital World.

Ironic how the two of you were assigned the reason for your decoupling, as if fate was mocking you for your choices, mocking Jungkook.

“I finished it. Feel free to edit it as you like when you submit it. I trust your judgement.”

I trust your judgement. Did you even realize how fucking stupid Jungkook felt hearing that? Maybe he should return the favour. Listen to Namjoon’s sage words and let you explain your side of the story. Perhaps it wasn’t as bad as Jungkook thought.

“Listen Y/N, can you sit down? We can talk?”

“No,” you replied harshly, pushing another, heavier stack of papers towards him. He didn’t have time to look at much other than the heading. Transfer of IP Rights. “I had my lawyer draw these up. You don’t need to worry about me being the enemy anymore, Jeon. There it is. Signed and notarized. You can have all the stupid rights for your stupid game. I’m done.”

And with that bombshell, you turned away, walking back into the cold morning, and leaving Jungkook scrambling for his thoughts. As he sat down, defeated, he read the document. You had given him the copyright to everything, from your research to the random character sketches you doodled in the margins. Even mechanics that didn’t end up in the game. Everything.

Jungkook’s chest felt heavy, his thoughts swirling like the bile in his stomach. Someone who was using him wouldn’t do this, wouldn’t give up their claim on their idea. He stared at the mug in front of him, one with the caramel macchiato you enjoyed now cold to the touch, and realized that his ego had taken away his chance at happiness.

The cafe filled with people as he sat frozen. People laughed around him, giggling at jokes as they sipped their coffees, carefree, going in and out, but all Jungkook felt was the chills from the cold air everytime the door opened.

----------

Driving always calmed you down. The feel of the steering wheel vibrating slightly under your grip as the world passed you by made you feel invincible. As if all the troubles in the world couldn’t touch you, fading away like scenery in the periphery. But no matter how many miles you drove on the snowy highway, leaving the cafe you walked out of just now miles behind, it didn’t settle the disquiet brewing in your head.

You had imagined the scenario of giving Jungkook those papers multiple times in the weeks they were being drafted. At first it was visions of a teary reunion and forgiven miscommunications; however, after Saturday night, those happy moments morphed into seeing Jungkook eat his words. You imagined him just as he was at the cafe — speechless and shocked, but seeing it in real life didn’t give you the satisfaction you desired.

His face was embedded in your head as you drove the sleek empty roads. His eyes wide and lips pulled in a frown that betrayed his hurt manifested on your pupils, but it didn’t make you feel smug like you thought you would be. It hurt you to hurt him, to throw his words back at you. No matter how many times he had abandoned you, leaving him behind felt like you were stabbing your own heart and tossing it on the ground.

It was painful. It was unsatisfying. And it was what made you immediately block him on all platforms lest your heart decide to take another hit of the cocky man who stuttered nervously when he told you he was a virgin.

You didn’t need him. You had to do this for your own protection. If he wanted to talk to you, he had your email. It didn’t seem like he was interested in contacting you any other way anyways.

----------

Over the last few weeks, Jungkook had poured over the detailed documents you had provided him countless times, reading them before bed like some sort of masochistic bedtime story. His father had approved the game after seeing it, handing over Jungkook’s rough prototype to the developers after a quick short meeting. He had praised him for managing to acquire such a comprehensive transfer of ownership for free, and proudly used it as an example of his leadership, and Jungkook accepted it. He accepted it because he was a coward, too scared to admit that the price was losing you.

When he showed Namjoon what you had done, he was scolded. Namjoon rarely ever got angry with him but to see his jaw ticking as he berated Jungkook’s choices would be forever imprinted in him.

“You have to apologize, Jungkook,” Namjoon advised sternly after skimming the elaborate set of papers. The way his eyebrows knitted made Jungkook uneasy, on edge as if he was witnessing a ticking bomb. The guilt that had started swirling in his gut was flamed by the older man’s response. He had expected Namjoon to offer his life philosophies to him, maybe some insightful words, but this blunt demand didn’t help the way Jungkook’s heart kept splintering everytime he remembered your words.

I’m done.

“She said she was done hyung… It doesn’t matter anymore. I can’t—” Jungkook’s defeated tone didn’t help quell Namjoon’s exasperation, instead making him interrupt his excuses with a flurried tongue, shaking his head with disappointment.

“Of course it fucking matters! The game’s going to be worth what? Millions? So why would she give up her share? Who the fuck would give up millions just to clear a misunderstanding?”

“I don’t know…” He did know. He knew no one would do that. He knew that the only reason you had done so was because your hate for him surpassed anything you could tangibly gain. There was a tiny voice in his head that told him that maybe the reason you had signed everything over wasn’t because you hated him. Maybe it was for the opposite reason, but then your voice would smother that thought.

I’m done.

“Yes, you do. You can’t keep running away when things get hard. You say you love her? You want to be at her side? Then you need to earn it, put your pride aside and actually listen to her.”

It seemed that those were the last words Namjoon would impart on him as he left the room. He didn’t even leave him Gureum for comfort and Jungkook couldn’t help wondering if perhaps that signified how upset he was with his decisions. But sitting in his living room, courage had never felt as elusive.

Jungkook sighed, rubbing his temples as he tried to comprehend the dry notes on the strategy some overpriced consultant had presented him in order to help Jaunty Games “cut the fat”, but no matter how hard he tried, the words blurred together and swirled, indecipherable. He groaned loudly as he tried to wrestle his focus away from you and back on to the page in front of him. It didn’t matter much since the only one to hear him would be himself as they echoed back through his empty office.

Defeated, he stood up, walking to the window and peering into the bustling streets. He watched the people below scatter to and from Samseong Station like little ants racing to their nests, feeling a little claustrophobic suddenly despite his extremely large, minimally decorated office. He unbuttoned his collar, the familiar rush of adrenaline shortening his breaths before he followed his usual routine. Staring at his hands, he counted his breaths, willing them to slow down and deepen. He flexed his hands to stop the shaking, his tattoos acting as an anchor as he felt himself start to calm down.

Walking to his desk, he sat down, finally catching his bearings a little, and just in time too.

“Mr Jeon, I have the reports from the analysis department you asked for,” Seungwon announced as he breezed into the space after two quick knocks. Jungkook only hummed in response, not trusting his voice to not waver after such a close call with his demons. But Seungwon had practically raised Jungkook, and for him it was easy to recognize the signs - the beads of sweat on his forehead, the empty gaze, the overly controlled breathing, and the hands, clenching and unclenching.

He made his way around the desk, squatting in front of the younger man despite the way he averted his gaze, his cheeks flushed. He reached for the Newton’s Cradle on his desk, pulling the first metal sphere and watching carefully as Jungkook started concentrating on the movement and the sound emanating from the toy.

Jungkook felt a wave of calm rush over him as he timed his breaths to the sounds, finally feeling fully in control of himself, even though he hated his helper.

“Jungkook, you’re okay,” Seungwon assured, repeating the phrase again and again, peppering it with praises for doing well. Jungkook couldn’t help softening at the attention from the former fatherly figure.

“I’m fine now. Thank you unc- Mr. Cha,” Jungkook quickly corrected himself. Although he had patched things up with his mother after the big reveal months ago, he still held a grudge against her boyfriend, his betrayal much larger in his mind. But he saw Seungwon’s face fall at the cold formal tone he had adopted as he started to walk away, and Jungkook realized that perhaps that was his biggest fault — shutting people out. Unlike Namjoon who did the same, Jungkook didn’t physically run away. He did it by building an impenetrable wall around himself. A wall embedded with sharp icicles and jagged razors, refusing to let anyone but a selected few cross, and easily tossing away those who wronged him.

So for the first time he decided to change his patterns, not by letting the wall fall, but by opening a door. It was about time he heard Seungwon’s side of the story.

“Why did you do it?” he asked, a little too blunt, his thoughts still taking a moment to restart. Seungwon smiled warmly at him, making his way back towards the desk, taking a seat opposite the CEO in training.

“It wasn’t malicious, Jungkook. You know that right?” he explained, the wrinkles next to his eyes becoming prominent as he looked at him softly. Seungwon didn’t know where to begin but he didn’t want to lose the opportunity he was provided. “My whole life I thought I would end up alone. I was ready for it… to love from afar… to catch glimpses of moments that would never be mine. I never thought your mother would ever return the flame I held for her.”

“I had given up but fate had other plans. Sometimes love fades, and sometimes it perseveres. I have loved Kyungsoo for thirty years, but somehow after all that time she found her way to me,” he said, his voice softly carrying through the quiet of the room. His eyes met Jungkook’s widened ones before he continued. “We never planned it, you know? It just happened. And I’m so sorry I hurt you… I’m sorry, Jungkookie.”

Jungkook may be someone who held grudges, but he couldn’t help empathizing with the man. He could choose to paint him as a villain, waiting and watching for cracks in his parent’s relationship for thirty years, but despite all his efforts over the past few months, he was still a hopeless romantic at heart. He thought about you and wondered if he could do the same, agonizingly watch you from afar for decades. It must have felt like torture, each smile and exchange like little droplets landing on same spot on his forehead, an innocuous but unrelenting pain with no end in sight.

His eyes watered without his consent, and before he knew it he was standing up and making his way to Seungwon, hugging him, the walls once again toppling to welcome him inside. He missed the way Seungwon teared up as well, grinning as he returned his embrace. Jungkook didn’t have many qualms about cancelling the rest of his afternoon to repair his relationship with Seungwon as he shared his love story, decades in the making.

It’s odd when we learn that our parents and parent figures are flawed, perhaps even more so than ourselves. It is a cognitive dissonance that shatters the reality we had relied on to be true. We idolize our caregivers, often putting them on a pedestal, never really seeing them as humans capable of making human mistakes.

When Jungkook listened to the stories Seungwon shared, it was like watching his memories from a perspective he didn’t fathom before, going from first person to third. He remembered the times Seungwon would take care of him as a kid. He never felt like his father was absent from his life because he always had his beloved uncle Seungwon to battle him in Mario Kart and attend his baseball games, but as an adult he finally removed the rose-coloured lenses and realized that he wasn’t just absent from his life, he was absent from his mother’s too. A new, exponentially growing company demands all the attention of its leader, and he imagined how his mother felt being left alone all those years.

To Jungkook, Kyungsoo was warm, nurturing, and encouraging, but in Seungwon’s eyes she was resilient, strong, and brave — brave enough to step away from the seesaw of a relationship where the highs never felt enough and where the momentum needed to escape the lows required an immeasurable amount of effort. Jungkook liked that description of his mother. Liked hearing about how smart she was, and how capable of greatness she was from the man in love with her — the man who did nothing but appreciate her from afar.

It led to a smile on his face. He had been bitter for so long that the purity of their connection warmed his heart, shedding light on the seed of hope planted there. Jungkook had thought he was naive for believing that love was everlasting, but hearing Seungwon’s words he thought his present self was even more naive. How could love be a lie when it was the only thing worth fighting for? Only thing worth watching for decades?

After three cups of coffee, Jungkook left the office with a strategy much better than any he had read all day — a strategy to ask for your forgiveness, even if he didn’t deserve it. Seungwon had somehow nonchalantly shared the most important piece of advice he had ever heard. Advice that chased away his cowardice and left only hope.

People make mistakes. People are flawed, but people are real. Whatever idea of you he had developed through his overthinking wasn’t worth not trying to fight for you. He could spend thirty years watching your life, or he could take his chances.

He grinned as his pinky twitched against the steering wheel.

—————

You steeled yourself with a deep breath, your heartbeat thrumming in your ears. You could feel the nerves shaking your legs, and if it weren’t for the fact that you were sitting, your knees would’ve surely buckled. Plastering a smile on your face, you squinted in the bright lights illuminating you, the din of the room becoming an afterthought.

“So, Y/N, we know you started off as a streamer for ChampCon, how did you end up where you are now? Head of Strategy at Saga. That’s big! Did you always want to be creating games?”

You chuckled into the mic the way your public speaking classes had taught you to gauge the volume of the microphone. You were happy for the lights because they hid the audience. Speaking to a thousand people was daunting, but the setup of the panel had the feel of being in someone’s living room. The little plant on the round table was calming, even distracting the fact that it was actually a camera that was projecting the view on the large screen behind you.

“Thanks, Brianna. Honestly, this might sound a bit odd but I think I just stumbled onto this field. I started Twitch to learn how to play ChampCon. Before that I was very much a console only person,” you chuckled as the crowd laughed and jokingly booed. You waved your hands, trying to seem confident despite your nerves. “I know. I know! You’ve converted me! But yeah, once I started playing I kind of fell in love with the game and I just got obsessed with knowing all the mechanics, the artwork, how everything worked. For the first time, I was passionate about an industry. After years of searching, I think game development just found me. Like fate.”

You smiled amicably at the invisible crowd as the host asked other women on the panel about their journey. It felt odd sitting at a table of women who had launched their own games independently, or had competed in worldwide championships. By comparison, you had only created a Youtube channel where you sat in your room commenting on games someone else created. You hadn’t even started working at Saga yet!

However, you bit back your imposter syndrome, reminding yourself that you deserved to be there — that you were handpicked to share your views on gaming culture. The hour passed by in a blur and when the crowd applauded you could finally breathe. Your group was led off stage to a holding area, essentially a comfortable room in the back where lunch was served and the conference main stage played on a giant television.

If someone had told you even two months ago that you would be in Los Angeles at E3, one of the world’s largest gaming conventions, in a room full of amazing women from Jade Raymond to Geguri, you would’ve laughed in their face and asked them to take their medication. But here you were, not as a spectator or a mere attendee, but a speaker, starstruck by people knowing your name and your job. It felt as if you’d been thrust into a daydream, waiting to wake up any moment.

Settling onto one of the tables with some of the other speakers, you dug into the meal, conversation flowing seamlessly. Until your attention was diverted to the television when you heard your name. The whole table followed you, turning to pay attention to the screen, where no one other than Jeon Jungkook was speaking on stage.

Dressed in casual ripped jeans and a t-shirt with his company’s logo, he seemed to effortlessly command the large stage. He held the microphone easily as he gestured to the large screens behind him that were now displaying the game the two of you had worked to develop.

“Guys let me tell you, Y/N Y/L/N might seem like a casual streamer, but she is an absolute genius among us mere folks!” The crowd laughed roaringly at his joke and your face heated up. What was he doing? Why was he up there giving you credit? You gave him all the rights!

While Jungkook continued joking on stage, showing off the mobile game, and assuring people that it would be launched at the end of the year, you were barely paying attention. All you could see was the logos at the bottom of the name of the game. Rise of the Guardian, a JauntyxSaga collaboration.

You hadn’t spoken to Jungkook in three months, and it seemed that in that short amount of time Jungkook had not only managed to get the game developed, marketed and announced, but had also somehow managed to have his biggest rival come on board as a collaborator. It made you a little dizzy to think about how he had managed to take what was essentially doodles and scribbles and turned them into a real life video game. And although you heard him clearly give you much more credit than you deserved, you kind of wished you had been a part of the process. Another smaller voice in your head reminded you that you wished you had been with him during the process.

Before you could dwell too much, your eyes fell on Jungkook, in the flesh, as he was ushered in after his presentation.

You’ve always hated the dramatics in the movies where the music would muffle and lights would dim to show the lead staring at their love interest, but in that moment it was exactly like that. As if time had decided to stand still so the two of you could have a moment to yourselves. So your eyes could roam his features and get reacquainted with the sharpness of his jaw, the softness of his big eyes, the little mole under his lip.

He smiled at you, a little bashful, as he scratched the side of his cheek, picking at an invisible hair. When you didn’t make a move, he made himself a plate from the buffet before hesitating a little, eyeing the open chair next to you.

The past three months were hard. It was stupid how much you missed him even though you had been apart longer than you had been together. You had blocked him on everything and that helped keep your sanity a little. Being away from him, you had forgotten the hold his cute buck toothed smile had on you and before long you were forgoing all the promises you made to yourself and motioning to the chair next to him.

He eagerly jumped at the opportunity, making himself comfortable, his eyes crinkled in glee.

“Hi,” he said, his eyes never leaving yours, taking your breath away a little.

“Hi,” you replied with a smile.

The two of you didn’t exchange any other words, only stealing glances as you ate.

—————

There was a little speck on the pristine hotel elevator doors that was bothering Jungkook. He could see his entire reflection, from the too big trunks he had stolen from Namjoon to the towel he had draped over his shoulder, but right on his forehead there was a smudge. It seemed like a watermark, and it was a little jarring to look at so he decided to fiddle with his phone instead, checking the chaos that had ensued on Twitter after his announcement that afternoon.

There were at least three hashtags relating to the announcement trending, but only one caught his eye - JungkookxTiger??? - where users were speculating and quoting Jungkook’s earlier gushing over his ex. Perhaps he had been a little heavy handed with his grand gesture… perhaps that was why you didn’t really make an effort to talk to him at lunch.

Jungkook shook his head as the elevator doors opened to the pool, trying to shake out the negative thoughts, reminding himself that reconciliation wasn’t his aim, just an apology. He wanted to redeem himself in your eyes, and three months of self-reflection and three appointments with Namjoon’s therapist had taught him to be open to the possibility of you never giving him another chance. He was okay with that, even if he knew he would always regret losing you. But if that’s what made you happy, he would gladly take the heartbreak.

He was lost in his thoughts when he reached the pool, dropping his towel on a chaise lounge, but all those thoughts froze when he reached the whirlpools at the end of the pool. He wanted to strip away the exhaustion of the day by relaxing in the steaming water. It seemed that you had the same idea.

“Umm… hi,” Jungkook floundered, not knowing if the awkwardness was in his head or not, but feeling an intense need to rectify it. “Sorry! I’m not following you I swear! I can leave if you want,” he added, kicking himself internally for being so nervous. The fact that you were sitting in the hot tub in a red bikini with your skin flushed from the heat didn’t help his nerves at all.

“It’s a public space, Jeon,” you waved, smiling a little as you leaned back and closed your eyes. Your smile did nothing to quell his racing pulse as he tentatively got in the pool and settled across from you.

“So JauntyxSaga, huh?” you commented casually, Jungkook’s gaze snapping from where it was fixated on his hands to your face. Your expression was neutral and it made him uneasy, wanting so badly to rewind time back to when the two of you easily laughed together.

“Um.. yeah. Is that okay?”

“You don’t need to ask me, Jeon. It’s your company,” you shrugged, and your nonchalance made him want to explain himself. He felt as if the window of opportunity to get into your good graces was quickly closing.

“Yeah. But are you okay with me saying it was your idea… I wanted to reach out to you, but I also kind of wanted it to be a surprise?”

“Consider me surprised,” you chuckled and he didn’t know if he should be relieved or worried, worrying his lip with his teeth.

“I’m sorry. I should’ve asked right? I just wanted to give you credit…”

“Why? Ideas don’t matter… execution does. I just came up with the concept, you made it happen.”

“Because you matter,” he muttered, apologizing when you responded with a sigh of his name. He didn’t know what to say, so he just sat there, stewing in his regrets.

“I’m going to go,” you said, and he watched you get out and wrap a towel around you, months of pep talks going down the drain as his throat closed around any words his brain could muster. However, it seemed that he didn’t need the courage, because before you left you turned around.

“Wanna get some coffee when we’re back in Seoul?”

“Yes,” Jungkook’s voice cracked and he cleared his throat. “I’d like that… a lot.”

“Cool. I’ll text you sometime.”

You waved, turning away from him, and he couldn’t help but grin like an idiot.

----------

You didn’t know why you had asked Jungkook for coffee that night and why five days later you were fidgeting with the mug of black coffee in front of you in a small cafe near campus. Call it an impulse or longing, but as you waited for Jungkook to arrive, the nerves you felt in the pool were back, swirling in your belly and erupting into butterflies when you saw him walk through the door.

It wasn’t a reunion that songs would be written about — it was stilted, painfully awkward. But it was real. After chasing him down all that time, it was bizarre that after what seemed like a lifetime of radio silence, he was there. Right in front of you, sitting in a distractingly well-fitted suit.

Two people could have a lot in common, but when so much miscommunication had overshadowed those similarities, was it even possible to partake in a normal conversation? While you sipped your coffee, you wished you could erase the past, go back to when it was easy, when all he had to do was give you one of his brilliant smiles and you would return it with a kiss.

“How’s work?” Jungkook asked, clearing his throat before beginning, as if the question he had asked required much deliberation, and you wished he would just get to the point. That you could skip all the small talk, and move on to the apologies. A voice in your head reminded you of the way you felt when you sat on those plastic chairs in the hospital, the way it seemed your heart was being slowly carved out of your chest while he chose to ghost you. And just like that, you didn’t want to be there anymore despite it being your own idea.

“Haven’t started yet. I start after graduation next month,” you replied, the chill in your voice complementing your stormy thoughts.

“Oh, that makes sense.” He fidgeted with the mug. He moved it from one hand to the other, the liquid splashing but not yet spilling. It made you anxious. He bit his lip, eyebrows furrowed, eyes on the table, when he asked you the next question. “You excited to be done with school?”

“Sure. You?” Why was this so hard? Why was just conversing like humans so taxing? Perhaps it was inevitable. Maybe you had fallen into this weird whirlwind of a short-lived romance, one that wasn’t meant to last. Maybe it was for the best that things had fallen apart before they got too serious. But if they weren’t serious, why were you still agonizing over it months later? Why was it taking you longer to forget him than it took you to get over relationships that lasted years?

“Umm… yes. Yeah! Finally in the real world you know… Real people, real problems,” Jungkook said, his volume almost a little too low to be heard over the din of the cafe.

He kept moving his mug. Back and forth. Back and forth. Back and forth. From the tattooed hand that would hold yours to the bare one that would caress your jaw when he kissed you. You couldn’t concentrate on whatever canned question he asked you, couldn’t even hear it, your eyes following the brilliant white dishware, like you were watching a tennis match. Till you couldn’t help yourself, your hand reaching out and stopping the mug, spilling the coffee.

You didn’t even feel the few drops that landed on your fingers, still around the mug, but Jungkook was in a sudden frenzy, grabbing napkins and stopping the liquid from reaching the edge of the table. He tended to you next, taking your hand before you could pull it back and wiping it clean, examining it intensely for any injuries.

You wanted to tell yourself it was uncomfortable — that him holding your hand once again made you want anything other than wanting to grasp it tighter. But you were never too good at lying to yourself, so you let him linger longer than your rationality would have allowed you. Let him gaze at you pleadingly, wordlessly asking for the same thing you wanted. Don’t let go, please.

“I miss you,” he murmured, a little anguished, his hand shaking in yours, his eyes on your fingers as they twitched subconsciously.

“I miss you, too,” you dared to reply despite the walls around your heart. His gaze snapped to yours at your words and you could read the battle within them. “But I don’t know if we can ever go back.”

“I… I don’t want to go back,” Jungkook said, suddenly determined, his hand confidently grasping yours tighter. “I want to be better. Make us better. Please?”

“Jungkook… I don’t know.”

“We can be friends again? That can work right?” His tone didn’t seem like he was begging, but you knew he was, his body stiff in anticipation. Could you survive giving him another chance?

“We were never really friends,” you remarked, a small smile stretching your lips, as you thought about the stupid arguments the two of you would have in class, almost a lifetime ago. “Frenemies at best.”

He smiled at that, relaxing a little at your joke, squeezing your fingers in his palm before letting go.

The conversation after was still a little awkward, but you didn’t overthink it, refusing to settle the blush that decorated your cheekbones every time his knee brushed against yours. And when he asked you if you would like to grab dinner together, you agreed. Maybe you could’ve been better to him too. Maybe the two of you could be better to each other.

After all, you wouldn’t know unless you tried.

----------

Jungkook kept glancing at you, despite telling himself to keep his eyes on the road. He couldn’t help it, not when the sun fading over the horizon bathed you in a glow that he wished he could memorize. Not when you softly sang to the radio, nodding your head to the mellow beat and smiling at the cheesy lyrics proclaiming love everlasting. Not when all he wanted to do was hold your hand again.

He hadn’t even dared to touch you after the day you got coffee, but after three decidedly less uncomfortable hangouts, he had finally asked you on a date. A date you had agreed to, despite all his demons reminding him that he was too unworthy to even ask.

The first hangout was dinner at a small diner where you told him about your parents and your childhood. He didn’t know much about your life. Somehow in the month the two of you had been together, it had been glazed over. But he was happy to hear about it, ecstatic to learn what shaped you. He always knew you were determined, headstrong, but hearing about how you were bullied as a child over thrifted clothes till you decided to take up Taekwondo to fight back, made him gain more insight into you. You were always a fighter, fighting for yourself, your beliefs, even him when he treated you worse than all those bullies.

On your second hangout, he told you about Candy — an unrequited love that he realized was never a love at all, not the way it should be. You cut him off when he started to apologize about kissing her, telling him that it was okay. He bit away his guilt, letting you distract him with a game of Mario Kart. He would try to apologize again today. He would try to apologize for everything today.

For your last hangout, the two of you went to an amusement park, and between the laughs and cotton candy he felt a lump in his throat. Your hair flew in the wind when you drove the bumper car towards him, glee lighting up your face, your giggles loud and carefree as your car collided with his. If he was a cartoon his eyes would have turned into hearts at that moment. He thought he loved you, but it seemed that every little moment he spent with you increased his feelings tenfold, like before he was only exploring the surface of Marianas Trench. He couldn’t wait to dive deeper, turn his lungs to dust if needed. It was the courage he needed to ask you on date.

“Our first date’s on a boat?” you asked, mirth lacing your skepticism, and he couldn’t help but chuckle as he pulled into the marina.

“I thought it’d be nice to talk somewhere new,” he replied, his voice not betraying the sudden anxiety that invaded his thoughts. Perhaps taking you on a boat to make amends was too on the nose. “I got you those sandwiches you like from Hongdae.”

The times Jungkook and you had met before this date were amazing, but they were still tinged with guilt. Fear that the delicate thread that held your moments together would perish at the lightest mention of the past was ingrained in you. You didn’t want to think about the Jungkook who you hurt and who hurt you, you just wanted to exist in this precarious bubble of friends that ignored the tension in the room for longer. Because even if it was uncomfortable at times, at least it was there. You didn’t know if you were brave enough to test whether it would pop once the two of you really talked. You weren’t brave enough to reflect on how you’d react if your days went back to being void of his presence.

But when Jungkook smiled, his upper lip disappearing to bare his teeth and his eyes squinting from how high his cheeks got, you found the courage to smile back, to step out of the car and onto a sailboat, sappily named SS True Love.

The boat seemed much lower than what Jungkook’s social status would predict, a simple navy blue hull with white trimmings. The hardwood deck only had room enough for a blanket at the bow, the rest taken up by the cockpit. As Jungkook set up the sails, you set up the late afternoon lunch, the wind caressing you once you had settled to watch Jungkook move around with ease.

It seemed that Thursday afternoon wasn’t a popular time for a boat ride, your boat the only one rippling the calm river. The Seoul skyline never looked better than it did from the deck of Jungkook’s sailboat, the scent of freshwater making the crowded city look almost serene. As the sun dipped closer to the horizon behind you, the city was already coming alive, the mismash of lights visible even if it wasn’t dark yet. It looked almost fragile, a line of silver icicles reaching to the skies and vibrating with fireflies, capturing the remaining rays of the sun.

Jungkook anchored in the middle of the river and settled next to you after turning on some music. The melodies carried on the wind, embellishing the silence between the two of you as you ate, soaking in the remaining sun as it set. That’s when you noticed the lines of fairy lights on the railing, their fluorescent glow warming you, melting the lead from your tongue.

“Do you want some more wine?” Jungkook asked, holding the bottle of red he had procured to go with the prosciutto sandwiches you adored, ones that were out of the way for him but he had bought anyways. Just because you mentioned once you liked them. Watching him pour the wine carefully in his glass, his hair falling into his eyes, you felt your heart flutter. You didn’t want to let him go. You wanted to hold on to him, to hold him so tight your muscles would quiver with fatigue.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about Saga,” you blurted out, cursing yourself for your lack of finesse. Jungkook froze, his eyebrows disappearing behind his bangs as he stared at you open-mouthed. However, now that you had started, the word vomit continued, your hands flailing in front of you.

“To be honest, I got interviewed before we even started talking and when it became official I was under an NDA and so I couldn’t tell you and to be honest I totally completely forgot about it. Wait, that sounds like an excuse! I didn’t forget forget, I just didn’t pay attention to it because I was scared about a big change and so my brain decided to not think about it and-”

“You didn’t have to tell me anything. I should’ve trusted you,” he interrupted, his fingers pulling at the thread poking from the rip on his jeans. He could feel his heart pounding against his chest, barrelling at a speed unfathomable as he recalled how he made every wrong decision, from leaving you on his birthday to ghosting you to being a drunken asshole. But most of all he recalled the broken way you looked at him at the hospital when he spat venom into your wounds. He would’ve never talked to himself after that but you did, because much like your username, you were a tiger, fighting for what’s yours. He belonged to you after all, had since the first time you crashed into him, seamlessly falling into his arms as if he was made to catch you.

His regret lined his eyes, cascading slowly to his jaw in a single stream that clogged his sinuses and cracked his voice as he spoke. “I should’ve trusted you. I’m so, so sorry, Y/N.”

Like all the times you had mirrored his smiles, you mirrored his tears too.

“I think I ruined us,” you sniffled, fingers wiping at his cheekbones, and the sparks your touch left powered his arms to cling around you and pull you to his chest. You could hear the hammering of his heart, your mind reintroduced to the scent you had almost forgotten, despite craving.

“No, I did,” he replied, adamant even through his whispers. “I was so mean to you. I’m so sorry, Tiger. I don’t deserve you.”

“You were a little mean,” you joked, pulling away from where you were buried in his chest and cupping his face in your hands, smiling at his bashful, melancholic whine. “But it’s okay. No one deserves anyone, we choose.”

“You shouldn’t choose me,” Jungkook lamented, his glassy eyes reflecting the light around you, even larger than usual as they stared into yours. His hands on your waist gripped you tighter, regardless. “No matter how much I want you to,” he added in a whisper, barely audible over the sounds of the water.

“But that’s why I do,” you replied simply, wiping his tears once again, only for more to appear as he hid from you, his face finding its home in the crook of your neck. You held him tight and Jungkook wished he never had to leave your embrace, to never know a world where your warmth didn’t surround him. He knew he was going to wear his heart on his sleeve this evening, but he never imagined that you would accept it, keep it safe next to yours and drown his senses with your comfort.

He didn’t dare move from your arms as you stroked his hair and the two of you talked about your times apart. Till the pain you had caused each other didn’t feel as fresh anymore, till it faded into a throb that reminded you of your mistakes but didn’t hinder you. There was a certain poetry to being in your arms, and Jungkook wished he could immortalize it. It was the moment where his soul finally felt at ease, the dark sky of the evening a blanket tucking him into a dream that he thought he’d never achieve.

He left your arms to guide the boat back to the docks, but couldn’t bring himself to let go of your hand as he drove you home. He never wanted to let go, afraid that he would wake up back in his empty room, cold and alone. That bitter fear manifested in a plea, overlapping with one of yours as he walked you to your apartment.

“Can I stay for a bit?”

“Come over?”

The two of you stared at each other before bursting into laughter, the tension dissolving in your combined joy, effervescent. When the laughter faded, the stare remained, his eyes looking into yours with the gentleness you had come to rediscover, like his pupils were melting with every photon bouncing off your skin. It erased your hesitation as you leaned up on your toes to place your lips on his for a quick fleeting second, before giggling.

Jungkook felt his entire body blush from the simple brush of your lips, and he wanted to cry again, his reservoir far from empty. His fingers touched his lips, almost in disbelief, but the tingles that radiated from them made him believe it was real. Your chuckles brought him out of his haze and before you even knew it was happening, he pulled you towards him with the hand still attached to yours, landing his lips on yours.

He knew he was being a little too needy, his mouth a little too sloppy as it molded to yours, but when he gently laid his hand on your neck, he could feel your pulse galloping in time with his, and it made a whimper escape his lips. You captured it with yours, caressing it with your tongue, coaxing more of its friends to build a symphony you adored, till the grin on your face made kissing him difficult.

“You whimpered first,” you whispered, your nose scrunching at his groan, and you pinched his cheek before turning around to unlock the door. But Jungkook had gotten a taste of the paradise he thought he would never see again so his arms wrapped around your waist, his chest to your back and his nose buried in your hair. He inhaled the jasmine, his eyes closing in content, as you all but dragged him inside the apartment.

“It’s not fair,” he complained, shutting the door with his foot, his lips kissing anywhere he could reach, your cheek, your eyebrow, your jaw, your neck. “You’re a goddess and I’m helpless.”

Your giggles gave birth to the butterflies that fluttered in his stomach and turned to confetti in his chest, and soon he was turning you around, kissing your lips, tasting the cherry tint that adorned them. It was muscle memory, the way his tongue caressed yours, gentle and hungry in equal measure, the way his hands grabbed your thighs till your legs were around his waist, their warmth fanning the fire growing within him. He held you tight, grateful for his strength because in that moment he wanted nothing more than you wrapping yourself around him, your chest against his, your arms around his neck, locking his lips to yours.

He blindly followed your instructions to your bed, his lips never leaving your skin, even when they migrated to your neck, where they suckled. He knew he reached your bed when it hit his shin, the pain radiating from the bone a mere afterthought to how you looked lying in front of him, flushed and breathless.

He climbed on top of you, slotting himself between your legs and devouring your lips once again. “I missed you,” he murmured between kisses, his voice just a vehicle for his heavy breaths. “I missed you so much.”

He kissed you again, but you held his face between your hands, stopping him momentarily. You wanted him, wanted him more than anything, but your heart needed a little more assurance, more than his searing kisses and the adoration dripping from his eyes.

“Promise me you won’t leave again,” you pleaded, words a little too weak for your liking, but it was the best you could with the way you felt, as if you were on the edge of floating away.

The tears that Jungkook’s lust had hidden away returned as his lip quivered. He hated the little wobble in your voice, the desperation dripping from your words, but it was ‘again’ that echoed in his head, reminding him of the mistakes he had made. How he had broken your trust under the guise of revenge. Reminded him that he had screamed at his father for abandoning his love, for not fighting for it, when he had done the same based on a headline. He didn’t know if words would ever be able to convey his regret, to convey his gratitude for another chance with you.

He whined your name, as he fell next to you, landing on his back and covering his face in shame, mumbled apologies breaking your heart.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, refusing you to let you pull his hands away from his face. You didn’t want his regret, his sorrow, you had only wanted assurance, just a few words to push your insecurities back into the dark. Straddling his waist, you ran your hands up his shirt, till they were over his, and bent down to kiss them, pecking the skin again and again till you coaxed away the palms covering his features.

“No more crying, Kookie,” you cooed, the nickname foreign on your tongue but something you’d been resisting from calling him ever since he ate the horrendous cookies you had baked from him. You should’ve used it earlier because the way Jungkook’s face lit up made you warm. His eyes peered at you from behind his dewy lashes, and his mouth pulled in a shy pout that made you want to put him in your pocket.

“Kookie?” he sniffled.

“Can’t I have a cute name for my boyfriend?” You forgot your earlier fears, your mind fixated on how you had never felt affection like this for someone, wanting to challenge them and protect them, all at the same moment.

“Boyfriend?” he asked, awe lacing his words with wonder.

“Want to be my boyfriend, Kookie?” you giggled, pulling his hands fully away from his face, lacing your fingers with his as they landed next to his head.

“Yes please,” he said softly, his jaw tipping upwards, lips meeting yours halfway in a languid kiss that seemed to go on forever. His hands squeezed yours as you extended them above his head to lay your chest against his, deepening the kiss till it stole your breath and kept it hostage next to Jungkook’s.

When your lips parted, your forehead remained glued with his, as did your eyes, crossing as they memorized each speck in his irises, the rich dark chocolate melting into the ebony of his pupils. He nuzzled his nose against yours, stealing a few kisses.

He didn’t know if it was the lights in the room or the glow in the chest that made you look so ethereal, your hands warm in his as your hair cocooned the two of you in a moment he thought would never come. He never liked crying, especially in front of others, but it was like all his emotions were on the surface bubbling up till they had no choice but to escape as moisture from his lids.

When you kissed him again it felt like the first time, when he lost the concept of time and space, his world shifting to a slate bursting in bright colours. The pink of the blush of his cheeks, the blue of the bed sheets below him, the orange of the specks behind his eyes, the red of the blood rushing through his veins at breakneck speed, the purple of his love bursting through his soul. An amalgam of shades that launched the little moans from his lips to yours and captured the sounds you reciprocated. He couldn’t hold it back anymore when your hands left his to cradle his face, to pull at his hair, to unbutton his shirt.

“I love you,” he moaned when your kisses left his mouth on their journey to his jaw to his neck. “I love you so much, Y/N. Is that okay?”

You were taken aback by his timid confession, by the way his lip quivered with emotion, the way his glassy eyes looked at you with expectation. Whenever any man had uttered the same phrase to you in the past, it had been laced with confidence, with an expectation of gratitude, but Jungkook was pure — an innocent exclamation of love, spoken just because he couldn’t hold it anymore. It was brave — he was brave — and it made you the same, putting words to an emotion you were too afraid to even think about.

“I love you too,” you whispered and Jungkook grinned wide before promptly breaking into a sob, holding you close and burying his nose in your chest as he sat up. You held his head, stroking this hair till his grip around your waist loosened a little and he looked at you.

“Thank you,” he muttered against your skin, his tone painted with reverence, looking small despite being much larger than you, his arms clinging to you tighter. “I never thought I’d ever find you.”

“What do you mean?”

“Thought I wouldn’t ever find anyone who’d love me back,” he giggled a little deliriously and you couldn’t help but kiss him, spilling your affection into him, and Jungkook thought he was the luckiest man to ever exist when you told him you loved him again and again.

With each kiss, you loosened one of his buttons till his shirt was hanging only on his arms and your lips were painting mosaics of roses on his collarbones, his chest. He could feel his breaths getting heavier, but his desire for you was stronger than his need to breathe, and so he was unzipping your dress and pulling it off your body, silently congratulating himself for figuring out that it zipped from the side.

When he saw you sitting on him in just your panties, he felt like he was going short-circuit, like the two of you were in an abyss that housed only your bodies floating through infinity. He captured your lips again, harder than ever before, his hands grasping any and everywhere, till you were rolling your hips against him in time with how he rolled his tongue against yours. With every swivel of your hips he grew needier, needier for you to consume him, to carve him under your skin, till he was spinning you to the bed and hovering above you.

It felt like ecstasy in your veins to have Jungkook above you, but you were greedy for more. Your hands traced down his back, feeling each muscle as he shivered against you, nipping at your neck. When you reached his belt, you made quick work of undoing it, unbuttoning his pants, and cupping him over his underwear. He moaned against you before latching on to your nipple, his tongue flicking the bud as he suckled, eliciting loud moans of your own.

Before long, you had him naked, your hands working the precum down his length so slowly Jungkook thought he would lose his mind. He told you as much as he moved lower down your body, removing your panties as well as your hand from his cock so he could lift your legs to his shoulders and devour you.

He had only tasted you once before, but he had been dreaming about it since — the musky scent clouding his senses and the sweet sour taste exploding on his taste buds. He thought he would cum just from the first lick but he held on, egged on by your mewls as your fingers gripped his hair and your hips rode his face. When he sucked on your clit, you yelled a chorus of his name and he got brave enough to slide a finger in, his eyes rolling back at the warmth.

You couldn’t help the way your legs shook next to his head, your brain unable to comprehend how amazing he felt, and when his one finger became two you were almost at the end of your control, your walls spasming as he increased his pace at your request. Unlike the first time, Jungkook was focused on your clit, and it was the quick flicking of his tongue that made you come undone with loud expletives and bursts of orange behind your eyes. When you pulled at his hair, he quickly got the cue, his lips moving to your thigh where he gently made the skin bloom with the edge of his teeth before travelling up your body till he was kissing you.

“Can I...?” he asked, his voice airy and eyes pleading, grinding against your thigh in a way that seemed entirely unintentional, and you couldn’t help the giddiness that exploded through you, making your heart blossom florals.

“Are you sure you want to?”

“I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life,” Jungkook answered, determined, kissing your breath away before a softer “Please?” escaped his lips. You had no choice but to oblige because you too, like him, hadn’t been more sure of anything else in your life.

Guiding him to slowly fill you up, you held his hand as you enveloped him. He couldn’t help the cry of your name that bubbled from deep within his chest when he was fully within you. Nothing had ever felt so extraordinary, so indescribably perfect, as he buried his face in your neck, the soothing scent of your perfume, jasmine and lilies, calming him and making him feral all at once. He knew he was shaking, his senses lighting up with every slow caress you granted him, and when you finally gave him permission to move he let his instincts take over.

He always thought he’d be bad at this, that he would lose it the moment he entered you, but his desire to never let this moment end was stronger. Tasting the salt on your skin he moved his hips faster so he wouldn’t have to leave you for too long. You kissed the side of his head and whispered adorations, and it was nothing short of heavenly, like the cosmos had worked together to ensure that the two of you melded perfectly. This moment, this bed, was the singularity pulling him into you, leaving him helpless and happy to become a part of you, now and forever. He never wanted this to end.

“Cum for me, Kookie,” you whispered, your voice chocolate smooth and all too enticing as he lost himself, spilling inside you with a groan that reverberated through the room. He didn’t dare leave your comfort, collapsing on top of you, relishing the way your legs crossed behind his back and your free hand slowly soothed him by tracing warm patterns on his back.

“I love you,” he murmured yet again, wishing he was a poet that could arrange words in a way that was less generic, but when you said the same words back to him, he realized there was nothing else he’d rather hear.

----------

“Kookie! I cannot believe you want us to marathon this whole thing. It’s six seasons!” you exclaimed, turning your nose up at the teen show from the nineties currently playing its seventh episode on his obscenely large television. He grinned at you in that endearingly cute way that scrunched his nose as he walked in from the kitchen with a bowl of popcorn, plopping onto the couch next to you, his arm easily pulling you in to cuddle into him.

“Dawson’s Creek is the best show ever written,” he said cooly, popping a kernel in his mouth and cooing at your glare, before relenting, albeit with faux disappointment. “But I guess since it's our one month anniversary, I’ll let you pick.”

“I told you we’re not doing monthly anniversaries!” Your protest turned into giggles when he pouted at you, making you push his face away. He whined, grabbing your hand and kissing it, making you stupidly flustered. Even though Jungkook and you had been together for a bit, his romantic side always made you shy.

Instead of teasing you like he usually would, he smiled, letting go of your hand to kiss your lips instead, once, twice, three times. He loved the way you whined cutely before grabbing the remote and moving to sit between his legs so he could perch his head on your shoulder the way he liked to.

Jungkook relaxed back on the couch, his arms tightening around you as you scrolled through Netflix, and somehow he had never felt more relaxed. He nuzzled into you with a grin, feeling warm and content, breathing in your scent. It was then that he felt his pinky twitch where his hand rested on your waist, and he couldn’t help his eyes as they zeroed on to your hand around the remote, watching as yours did the same.

Jungkook had always believed in the old myths, and as he saw the subtle movement of your finger, he knew that his belief wasn’t in vain.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Drabble

I hope you enjoyed the angst! For more fics of mine check out my masterlist

taglist- @ressjeon, @joonights, @mwitsmejk, @daggerbeneathmygown, @moonchild1, @drumsofheaven, @thisartemisnevermisses, @kaepjjangiya, @bbydoejk, @emsuzz, @crewzie-chan, @cheesecakes-randomshitz, @aroseforyoongi, @awhnamjoon, @agustdjoon, @codeinebelle, @hobiandsprite, @bbydoejk, @kaepjjangiya, @thisartemisnevermisses, @drumsofheaven, @moonchild1, @daggersandicedcoffee, @mwitsmejk, @hisunshiine, @wearenot7withu, @btsrapline9, @jalexad

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whatifyoulivelikethat · 3 years ago

Text

twelve hours, m | jjk | ... and now

pairing(s): jungkook x reader

summary: You have twelve hours to make Jeon Jungkook fall in love with you. He's about to get married. You're the entertainment at his bachelor party - a burlesque dancer. Long ago, he used to be the class representative and you used to be the class delinquent. Nothing has changed and, yet, everything has.

this is part ii | click here for part i | total wc: 23k

warnings: rated M (18+) for language; this story contains parental child abuse and graphic violence, including the reader becoming physically scarred and having panic attacks; rich, this bachelor party is on a fuckin' YACHT, the best man is LOADED; JK and reader interacted in high school; angst and fluff and feels; cheating; this is mostly smut XD; (in part i) high school smut + intense adult smut (fem reader, striptease, semi-public sex at school, nipple play (he's a bit obsessed with them), dry humping, m-masturbation, handjob, cumming on tits (and diamonds), cum-eating, mirror kink, spitting, tit fucking, m-receiving oral, scratching / biting / marking, penetrative sex, doggy); shifts back and forth between Jungkook’s POV and your POV

non-idol!AU; film director!Jungkook x wealthy, burlesque dancer!reader — ft best man, art trader!Kim Taehyung; dancer's bodyguard!Kim Namjoon and bodyguard!Kim Seokjin

> eyebrow pierced, tattooed, and long black-haired JK (with undercut) in a black suit because that's what we need in this life > look for TXT's 'you and me and the sky at 5:53' :)

time left: 06:49

No.

Don’t leave me.

It was the same then as it was now.

Jungkook reached out and grabbed her arm, pulling her back to him. Her eyes widened, pivoting quickly on her toe, snapping her heel down and cutting the turn short, black skirt flaring out. The swift glimpse of her legs in the high slit, the gentle bounce of her breasts in the slinky fabric. Her manicured hair bounced, dyed blue-black and giving her skin a surreal quality.

He held on.

Please don’t disappear.

“What?”

Her brows knitted together. She didn’t pull her arm away, but she was steadfast in her posture, not letting him push her around. Not that he ever could.

“He asked me to escort you back,” Jungkook found himself saying. “If not for your sake, then for his peace of mind. I don’t want to be a liar.”

Her features softened.

His fingers around her arm, touching that soft skin once more.

I care. I care a lot.

Jungkook realized that, in a way, he had never moved past those classrooms, those touches, those kisses, those moments.

“You can let go now.”

She said it patiently. Always patient with him despite his overzealous and sometimes clumsy antics, putting up with it even when she didn’t have to. He looked into those eyes and found those walls were falling away, little by little. Winged liner, red lipstick, it didn’t matter, it was the same expression, defiant eyes and hint of a scowl on those lips. Ready to fight, but not him.

She was always a fighter and the opponent was always life itself.

“I don’t want to let go.”

He didn’t expect himself to say the truth, but he did.

She smirked, reaching up, her fingers covering his tattoos for a moment, placing them on the back of his hand. This warmth. This feeling. It was not the same as the rest, and he knew that now.

“Hm, well, you must realize this looks a bit awkward. You wouldn’t want to give anyone the wrong impression, would you?”

Wouldn't want someone to see you talking to me, right?

“You will let me escort you?” he insisted.

She pried his hand from her arm and lowered it, turning the other way.

“You are welcome to do as you like. I won’t stop you, golden boy.”

time left: 06:41

He followed you, surrounded by moonlight reflecting off water.

It streamed through the windows, lighting the red carpeted hall along with the dim sconces. You found yourself stepping in each lighted square, avoiding the thin dark beams of the windows, a little game for yourself, like how children avoided the cracks in the concrete sidewalks, except you were on a lavish yacht wearing Louboutins with a handsome man in step behind you.

It was quiet and yet it wasn’t. Small sounds, footsteps, distant muffles of talking through the walls, the faint sound of bass as you walked away from the party, the sound of the ocean ever present, your own breathing.

Jungkook’s breathing.

Familiar.

Once yours.

You looked to your right, to the window, seeing his reflection. His profile, hands in his pockets, tattooed arm standing out against the black background of his clothes, dressed formally but always a bit sheepish about it, as if he wasn’t sure if it looked good on him, but it always did, even the school uniform. He still had the youthfulness about him, even as a man.

Your eyes found his and he was watching your face in the glass of the window.

You stopped abruptly, pivoting on one heel to face him.

Impulse.

Your younger self would have bristled, glaring, accusing the eyes and snapping, what are you looking at?

Jungkook started, realizing you had noticed, and tripped, his black hair suddenly disturbed and tumbling over his eyes as he struggled to catch himself, hands flying out of his pockets.

You caught one, lacing your fingers with his, and gripped tightly, yanking up.

He righted himself, gasping. Looking up, bent over and long legs awkward, somewhat like a fawn trying to get on its legs for the first time. Those big brown eyes, parted pink lips. Familiar.

Your joined hands fell exactly where the window beam was, shrouded in shadow.

“Something on your mind?” you chuckled, shaking your head.

He straightened. You loosened your grip on his hand, but he held on. You frowned slightly, raising your brows.

He swallowed hard.

“Can I hold your hand? Please.”

Back then, you would hold his hand, hiding behind corners and dashing past, holding your breath, light steps, leaping from shadow to shadow, bodies close, breath mixing. Showing him all the secrets of the school that you had found while wandering, a fun little game with a reward at the end, school uniform being shed, skin to skin, his body against yours, his heartbeat in time with yours, his lips on yours.

You shrugged and turned back around, his hand tightly around yours.

time left: 06:35

Jungkook held her hand.

In an instant, he looked down, staring at their joined hands.

This was different.

And then he saw them.

Scars, all over the back of her hand. He could feel the scar tissue on her palms too, lines on her fingers even though she was holding him loosely. He had memorized every centimeter of her beautiful hands from back then, and these lines were not here before. These were not scars from living life. These had been cuts, healed now, unseen from far away and even up close. Perhaps they had been filled in with tattoo ink in a color to match her skin tone so they were less noticeable.

No one would know unless they were holding her hand or looking for it.

Without knowing it, Jungkook clutched her hand tighter, a sudden ache in his chest.

He had found bruises on her sometimes.

I fell down the stairs. It's nothing.

He had found welts.

Stupid fight with some dumbass.

He had found a criss-cross pattern of cuts on her leg.

I tried to jump over a fence and fucked up.

He glanced at her other hand loosely by her side. The same. He could even see her palm and there were many, many lines, all over her palm, healed cuts. Drugs? But he knew it wasn’t. Not because he had a romanticized idea of who she would be in his head, but because that was the nice answer.

That was the reasonable answer.

“Oh!”

“Excuse me, miss.”

His eyes flickered upward to see a young woman in a short midnight blue dress pausing, looking from her to him, cheeks flushed, not being subtle about it. The glittery fabric picked up the moonlight, accenting her curves and long legs. Pretty.

But not sensual.

Not immaculate.

Not teasing and sculptural.

The grip on his hand tightened so much that he inhaled sharply, fingers nearly crushed by her hold.

“Have a nice evening,” the woman in black purred, edge of ice indicating the stranger to move along, or, more accurately, fuck right off.

Jungkook knew he shouldn’t, and yet.

His heart skipped two beats as she dragged him along.

He had no problem looking away from the other woman and fixate on the back of that neatly pinned, blue-black hair, graceful shoulders, corseted waist, swaying hips.

And her hand in his, not letting go.

time left: 06:22

“This is it.”

You turned to see Jungkook looking around, mouth open, gawking at the entrance of the intricately carved wooden door. It was one of the grander, first-class rooms. The red doors were much farther apart and the sconces here were glided with glass-blown lampshades, casting swirls of orange across the white walls, dimmed now from the late night.

“It was nice to see you again.”

It was, even with the bitter taste in your mouth that seemed to linger.

His eyes came back to you, dark brown and clear, focused on only your face, long black strands framing his cheeks, the small mole underneath his lower lip trembling.

“I hope you have your happiness now, Jungkook.”

You did.

You felt a strange, unmovable pressure on your chest. The time wasn’t up yet. You could still try. You could keep your hold on his hand and drag him into the room and hold him close to you, skin to skin, lips on his, and show him all you’ve learned. You could. You could see it in those eyes. He would follow you now, maybe because of the alcohol, maybe for old times sake, maybe out of impulse and bad choices.

You let go.

You let go, because you didn’t want to be a bad choice.

Not to him, Jeon Jungkook.

“You were my small happiness, back then,” you said softly, feeling yourself smile.

It was better not to have regrets. At the time, even you didn’t know how important he had been. The thought of being withdrawn from that school and not being able to see him again made you fight back for once, and it ended in the very thing you didn’t want. It fucked up your hands, it fucked up your life, but somehow you found yourself here now, in expensive clothes on an expensive boat with expensive tastes, able to make a choice between selfishness or selflessness.

Maybe you hadn’t changed much after all, since you found yourself choosing the latter.

You turned away and pulled your hand out of his.

Or would have, if Jungkook hadn’t grasped your hand tighter, yanking you back and shoving you against the door of your suite. Your hand automatically raised to push him back, but he put his whole weight on your body, sandwiching you between the door and himself, making you gasp, trapped between dead timber and muscular hardness.

Now his face was in your face, breathing hard, dark brown orbs shaking and shining with wetness.

You froze, lips parting.

“You were my happiness too.”

He was panting, warm exhale on your lips.

“Not a small happiness. The happiness.”

He squeezed your hand like you were going to disappear.

“I didn’t know then, but I do now,” Jungkook shuddered, towering over you even in your heels. He stared into your eyes. “Your smile.”

You blinked slowly, confused.

“Your smile. I’ve never seen it reach your eyes.”

Heart racing, suddenly breathless.

“Except when you thought I couldn’t see, like when my back was turned or my face was turned away from you,” he whispered, leaning his forehead against yours, long black hair curtaining your faces, sending you back to the shadows. “I saw it though, in reflections. In windows. In mirrors. In those beakers in the science room.”

Was that so? Had that been you? You made it a point not to smile back then, because there had been nothing to smile about. But maybe… maybe when eyes weren’t on you, maybe when you yourself didn’t notice, but, somehow, Jungkook had noticed.

You realized that your introspection had diverted your attention from him, so you made eye contact again, airless at his closeness. Your eyes and his, lost in sweet dreams.

“I want to kiss you.”

He tilted his head and hesitated.

“I want to kiss you all the time,” he said to your lips.

His expression was clouded with shame. It was ugly. It made his handsome features ugly and you didn’t like that. You wanted to make it go away. You closed more distance, fingers pressing down on the back of his hand, your other hand raising and resting on his hip, lashes lowering.

“Then kiss me,” you said to his lips.

time left: 06:13

Jungkook kissed her.

From then and now, it was the same.

Euphoria.

But this time, it wasn’t clumsy with colliding teeth and too much tongue that did nothing, sloppy with no purpose. This time, his lips were soft at first and so were hers, breathing in each other’s scent. She smelled warm and musky, like blackberry and evergreens, expensive and lush, but somehow still her, still that girl from back then, comforting and intense, sometimes with the hint of metallic blood, but that never bothered him. Her hand on his hip, stroking it under the layers of fabric, making him shiver, caressing the back of his hand with her fingertips, delicate sigh in his mouth.

The faintest flicker of tongue on the edge of her upper lip, swiping down into his open mouth.

He moaned, feeling the strong wet muscle thrust into his lips, coaxing his tongue, teasing, pressing her body to his, breasts against his chest, their deep open necklines exchanging heat in the air between their skin but not quite touching, and he found himself letting go of her hand, reaching up to grab her breasts.

Her fingers closed around his wrists, forcing him to stop.

He gasped in her mouth, eyes opening.

“They’re not stress balls, Jungkook,” she snickered.

He was breathing hard, ribcage shuddering, heartbeat thundering in his ears, getting louder as he realized her red lipstick was a little messed up, feeling the stickiness on his own lips.

“You need to slow down. You can’t just grope me out in the open.”

His impatience spoke for him.

“Why not?”

His voice was low, octave deepened from lust.

Her lips curved into an amused smirk. “Oh? You have changed. You used to be so worried about someone seeing us. If anything, you should be more worried now, considering your beloved.”

“She’s not my beloved.”

She was still holding his wrists, but her head tilted, watching his eyes carefully. He sucked in a shuddering breath, feeling the guilt.

“We… we thought it would be a good idea. Because our friends told us we look nice together. It would help her career. I wouldn’t have to invest too much into it.”

He felt ashamed, but he didn’t look away because he didn’t want her to think he was lying.

“I never found a smile like yours. I accepted that I never would.”

Her eyes darkened.

“It’s dangerous, Jungkook. Ill-advised.”

He smiled and he didn’t know if it reached his eyes because his vision was blurry.

But he knew it wasn’t a lie.

“You always were. I should have chased you to the ends of the earth, even if you were only a ghost.”

He lifted his hands, hers with his, and cupped her face, running his fingertips over her cheeks, smooth and soft skin, transported back to that moment in the abandoned literature club room, her face cast in an orange glow, actually swirls from glass-blown sconces, but the past and present connected, turning it into rays from the setting sun that lit up her features, and he said what he had said then, because it was the truth.

“You’re really pretty.”

She raised an eyebrow.

“You are.”

He leaned forward and kissed the side of her lips gently.

She chuckled.

“You really are something, Jeon Jungkook.”

Her hands let go and she reached into the deep neckline of her dress, plucking something from the corset. His eyes widened as she pulled out the key card from between her breasts, smirk dancing on her lips. She winked at him.

“A lady has many hiding places.”

She flicked her wrist and inserted it into the door, unlocking it without looking.

The door opened and they stepped into her room.

time left: 06:02

“Hnnnnnnngh…”

“Dude can snore.”

“Help me turn him to his side. Don’t want him to vomit in his mouth and asphyxiate,” Kim Namjoon grunted, helped by Kim Seokjin, jerking Kim Taehyung’s body to the side. They backed up and Taehyung immediately flopped to his back, snoring away.

Seokjin thinned his mouth into a line. “Seriously?”

“Ah, here, let’s roll up the towels and use them to prop him up.”

“He’s not as cute as she is.”

“Well, she also doesn’t get piss drunk... ever.”

“Still a better cuddle buddy. Comes with built-in pillows.”

Namjoon blinked at Seokjin and shook his head, letting the odd comment slide. They managed to jam the bath towels next to Taehyung and force him to lay on his side, placing a pillow in his arms that he immediately hugged, squeezing it tightly. The snoring lessened as well.

“Guess we should go back,” Namjoon sighed, rubbing the back of his short hair.

Seokjin scoffed. “No, we shouldn’t. They’re probably all over each other as we speak.”

Namjoon frowned, raised an eyebrow at the other man. “Really? I don’t know. She seemed very hesitant about it. She said she didn’t love him.”

Seokjin snorted, somehow still elegant with his handsome face. “You really believe that?”

“That’s what she said.”

Seokjin rolled his eyes. “That’s what everybody says when they don’t want to admit they’re in love with someone.”

“That’s also what people say when they are, factually, not in love with someone.”

The black-haired man raised his hands and held up his index fingers, wriggling them in the air and bending them ninety-degrees, squiggling them around each other and poking the tips together repeatedly. Namjoon blinked at him.

“What are you doing?”

Seokjin rolled his eyes as if it was despairingly obvious what he was doing. “A visual representation of what they’re doing right now.”

Namjoon contorted his face in confusion, raising an eyebrow.

“… Becoming worms…?”

Seokjin groaned. “Having sex, Namjoon.”

“… How is that…?”

time left: 05:53

The door to his dreams unsealed and they tumbled inside.

The orange glow of the hallway lights spilled into the room, bleeding into the cool glow that came from the open windows, curtains pulled back to reveal the shimmering sea and bright moon, a contrast of artificial dusk and true nightfall. She pulled him in by his belt, hooking two fingers under the leather, step by sweeping step, grace that made him breathless, orange and silver and shadow, all mixing together, and then the door closed and then the sea and the moon replaced the sunset dreams.

It was a heavy thunk, closing with finality.

The room had many ornate mirrors in it to make the room seem bigger. The had gold vintage frames of different shapes and sizes, reflecting the contents of the room, the large bed and red silk sheets, the black leather chairs and black marble table bolted down to the floor, the matching marble vanity laid out with several black leather cosmetic bags, all zipped up neatly. The had small details on them – red zippers, silver locks, the designer logo engraved into the leather. The suitcases leaning against the wall matched the cosmetic bags, three of them, one larger than the first two.

Jungkook breathed her name, raising his hand, fingers spread.

Her fingertips touched his, halting him.

“Let me do it.”

He spied his expression in one of the mirrors.

The silver moonlight lit up his face and his eyes, reflecting the lust and trust in them.

He looked back to her and nodded.

“Okay.”

Glamour. Fantasy. Descent.

That was the only way he could describe the way she moved, glamour in the way her hand slowly retreated from his, a steady wave and sweep, clearly deliberate. Even in smeared lipstick, the small smirk was present on those lips, stepping around him with a swing of her hips and gentle clicks of her black patent leather heels, the slinky fabric flowing with her actions and also clinging to her body at the same time, using the arc of her stride to spread open the high slit. Letting him watch. He almost turned to follow but she placed a few fingers on his arm, purring softly.

“Don’t move.”

Fantasy, the way she slipped behind him like a shadow, and then Jungkook had to look up into the mirrors, catching glimpses of her behind him. There was no music, but she moved as if there was. If anything, the sound of the waves seemed to form its own music, and he was suddenly more aware of it, the splashes against the hull of the boat mixing with the bass of his heartbeat and the wispiness of her breath, stepping up behind him, body heat making him gasp, looking into a mirror to his left, a window illuminating his right, her hands slipping between the space of his ribs and upper arms, fingers spread like wings, warm exhale on his neck.

No words.

Just a simple kiss to the base of his head and her lips murmuring his name on his skin.

Descent.

One by one, teasing the buttons apart, her fingers ghosting the exposed skin, his heart racing as he watched those hands, peeling apart the button placket, unwrapping him like a decadent sweet. He watched his own expression framed by long curls of black, his teeth sinking into his lower lip, small mole below quivering, seeing more and more of his chest being exposed, somewhat self-conscious, but there was something spellbinding about only being able to see her hands and forearms, pointed black nails decorated with crystals that caught the light, undoing all the buttons until she reached his pants.

“I can–”

“Shh. Don’t let your impatience prevent you from enjoying your own striptease.”

His cheeks heated a little and he lowered his hands, breath hiking as she firmly gripped the bottom of his shirt and pulled it out. Jungkook took a step back, his back hitting her chest, and gasped again, feeling the softness, but she adjusted her position so her body wasn’t touching his anymore, chiding him playfully.

“Never had someone take off your clothes, Jungkook?” she chuckled against his neck, making his hairs stand on end.

“Ah, well…”

He watched those deft fingers undo the last two buttons. Then they spread apart his black shirt, reaching in, fingertips spreading out over his abs and pecs, tracing the contours of his muscles, switching between her nails and the pads of her fingertips, prickling and dainty. He couldn’t sure her face, but he saw his, and only now registered his own moans, so absorbed by her sensual movement and her touch that he didn’t even realize the embarrassing sounds falling from his lips.

“Not… since you…”

She snickered. “Seriously? What fool wouldn’t want to tear the clothes off this lovely body?”

He could feel and see his flush in the mirror. He looked away quickly, down to her hands exploring his body. “Well, I just… figured it’s easier if I do it. No one has ever been like you.”

“Hmm.”

His hands raised. He traced her knuckles, causing her to pause, caressing small circles on his sternum.

“You want to tear the clothes off my body?” he breathed, not daring to see his own reflection and know his reaction to whatever her answer was.

“I do.”

He placed his left hand on hers, heart beating faster and faster.

“Not tonight though.”

He pulled her palm away from his racing heart, not wanting her to know her effect on him, letting it linger beside his ribcage.

“Tonight, I will show you all I’ve learned, because I was always a better student than you, class representative.”

He found himself laughing a little, suddenly sheepish. “Yeah. Your name was always in the top five percent. I was pretty bad at school. I don’t know why everyone voted for–oooh…”

Her fingers touched his nipples, rubbing delicately, sending strange shivers all over him, shallowing his breath, making him look up and see his dark nipples being teased by expert hands. Her nails nicked them lightly and he whined in his throat, feeling them harden against her fingertips, surprised at the arousal from the simple touch, something he never paid attention to or cared about. His hair was covering part of his face.

Jungkook reached up and pushed his hair back, pressing his chest into those hands.

Saw one of her eyes behind his head, sharp and sultry with winged liner, twinkling as she watched him.

“I voted for you because I thought it would be funny since you weren’t even trying.”

He didn’t really have a response for that, too busy looking at his own face and body, shivering as she tweaked his nipples and pushed them in slow circles, his arms descending to lower the shadows, letting them suspend by his sides.

She shifted beside him and half of her lips appeared, on the toes of her heels, whispering close to his ear, seductive and dark.

“You were good-looking then, and you’re even more handsome now, Jungkook.”

The sound of the ocean, the silver moonlight shining off her blue-black hair giving her skin a surreal quality, almost doll-like, the mirror reflecting his expression, desire and anticipation.

She removed her hands and grabbed the collar of his shirt, yanking it down.

He inhaled sharply and her face disappeared.

Dress shirt stripped from his body and flung away, the crisp black fabric flaring out, a shadow cast aside.

Jungkook spun around.

Does this man know the meaning of calm the fuck down?

You rolled your eyes inwardly as you witnessed Jungkook turn around, facing you again even though you told him not to the move. He had always been like this, overzealous, but he didn’t seem as clumsy as before, although…

He grabbed your tits.

Hah.

He blinked rapidly, surprised. “Huh?”

You shook your head and knocked his hands away, sighing. “Pasties, Jungkook. To cover my nipples.”

You reached into your dress and scooped your breasts out, trapping them between the v-neckline. His eyes bulged slightly when he saw the smooth black satin circles flush to the apex of your breasts. They fit perfectly, seamless so they were unseen even under the slinky fabric of the black gown.

“W-Whoa…”

“What? I’m a burlesque dancer. Of course, I have fancy nipple covers. This is basic wardrobe.”

He tilted his head. “I’ve never seen any like these. They look like they’re part of your body.”

You tutted. “Obviously, they aren’t. You know I have nipples.”

And you reached up and peeled them off, flinging them aside carelessly.

Jungkook gasped, staring at your nipples with wide eyes.

“Don’t act like you haven’t seen nipples,” you scowled. “You better not be a virgin with how hot you’ve become.”

His hands shot up and you grabbed his wrists again, forcing them back down.

Jungkook whined, eyes shifting back up to you, begging to touch them.

You stiffened slightly. What kind of reaction was that?

“They’re so big,” he whispered huskily, visibly shuddering, shaking with the craving to touch them. “I remember they were soft. And…” His breathing hitched, trembling in your hands. “I remember they tasted so good. Amazing. No one has ever tasted as good as you.”

His eyes flickered back down, biting his lip. He tried to break free, but you held. A single glance exchanged and you let go, realizing he was going to do something other than attack them. Instead, he collected the straps of your dress and pulled them back up, slowly, moaning as the slinky black fabric skimmed over your breasts, your prominent nipples sticking out, hardening from the light friction.

“Fuck, that’s so fucking sexy.”

Well, maybe he did have some appreciation for the visual after all.

“You see why I need the pasties.”

He pulled the straps up, whimpering as he watched your nipples strain against your dress, lifting your breasts in the confines of the fabric and lowering them, lifting, lowering, repeating the gesture.

You raised an eyebrow.

“Jungkook… are you bouncing my tits on purpose?”

His dark brown orbs darted to you. Guilty.

“Um… y-you won’t let me touch them…”

You weren’t sure whether to sigh or to laugh. You just shook your head, backing up out of his grasp. His hands were still outstretched, lips forming a small pout. You almost regretted it, but his expression quickly changed as you casually flicked down the straps, freeing your breasts again, dropping his hands and linking them together under his waist, waiting, now invested in what you had in store.

Oh.

He chewed on his lip and gave you an expectant look.

A flutter in your chest.

The side of your lips curved upward, tongue sliding out to graze the edge of your upper lip before disappearing.

You reached back, leisurely undoing the fastenings of the corset, sweeping your legs so the high slit flared apart, turning around, letting him witness the slow undress. Every action was deliberate, the wide arc of your leg moving the skirt aside to prevent you from tripping as you turned without using your hands, the wide stance of your feet to relieve pressure on your heels and to prevent the dress from sliding down too soon, and even the position of your fingers, poised so you could run a nail down your spine as two of them pinched the hook-and-eye and separated them, traveling down to the top of your ass. Every movement was thought out, details that made up the bigger picture, constructing your ultimate goal.

A sensual striptease.

You caught his reaction in a mirror to your right.

His sparkling brown eyes were wide, jaw dropped.

A lot of people had seen you take off your clothes, but no one made you feel as satisfied as Jeon Jungkook, then in his school uniform and now shirtless in his slacks, hands twisting in front of his crotch.

Then you saw your face.

You were smiling.

You really did smile when you thought he wasn’t looking.

Another glimpse at his face and you found him staring at you, silver moonlight glinting off his eyebrow piercing and flooding into his eyes, bringing out the stars within.

You released your hand and your dress tumbled to the ground.

He sucked in a shuddering breath, your name drifting from his lips.

“H… Holy shit…”

You did have an amazing waist-to-ass ratio.

Proper corset training and specific hit workouts to perfect your craft contributed. You couldn’t simply be pretty. You had to be strong and flexible to do the stunts and to walk in your red bottoms for the entire performance. Christian Louboutin didn’t make his shoes to be comfy. He made heels to make feet look enticing and sexy.

The price to pay for glamour and vanity.

It did give you some powerful calves though.

You lifted one shoe, flashing that blazingly red sole of your heel, balancing on one leg for a second.

This was to prevent you from getting tangled on your now fallen dress. You tightened your core, shifting your weight, knowing it would give Jungkook an irresistible view of your plump derriere in your high French-cut black satin panties, the particular style adding illusion to the already stark proportion.

In short, your ass looked fucking fabulous.

You stepped out of your dress, one leg, then the other, taking care not to step on it, adding a little flourish of your hands to create those body lines, ever the performer. You glanced at the mirror and was pleased to find Jungkook hadn’t moved, although his hands were now firmly open, palms down on his crotch, whimpering in his throat.

“Soon,” you promised, and you would keep it.

He nodded, swallowing hard.

You turned your fingers inward, hooking each index finger on the sides of your panties, rocking your hips slowly, lowering your lashes, following the beat of the sea, tugging down the right side a few centimeters and then the left, listening to his breathing and controlling yours. You bent over slowly at the hips, sticking your ass out, listening to his low moan as your glistening slit was revealed, sliding your undergarments down your thighs and calves, placing them carefully onto the floor.

You gradually straightened, breathing out, keeping it as one smooth motion.

You stepped out of your panties.

Now you were clad in only your black patent Louboutins and black diamond choker.

This time, you found your reflection in the mirror to delicately correct your smeared red lipstick with your fingertips. Good enough. You nodded at your reflection. The corners of your mouth curved upwards.

You turned to face him, showing Jungkook your smile.

This smile was real.

The smile she only showed when she was with him. He didn’t know if that was a valid thought or not, but he liked to think so. Besides, no smile meant as much as this one. That he was sure of, because he had been chasing this smile for all these years before finally accepting that he would never find another one like it. It was too precious to belong to anyone else.

His smile.

If his dick wasn’t trying to rip open his pants, Jungkook might have cried seeing it for the first time.

He couldn’t speak, too afraid he was going to lose it right then and there.

She walked towards him.

No, walk wasn’t the correct word. Strode, strut, glided, fuck, he didn’t know, she just moved as fluidly as a shadow and water combined, silver moonlight glistening off her skin and her diamonds, and he knew he would never love the mere act of walking more than when he watched her move.

She stilled.

He stopped breathing.

Her foot raised, toes tracing the inside of the heel, raising the pointed toe, balancing it on the stiletto, and she flicked it backward, causing it to tumble and somersault backward, falling to its side.

Fuck.

She thought of everything.

She balanced on tiptoe and did the same to the other shoe, discarding it with a swift tick.

He made a less-than-elegant noise of her name mixed with a needy whine.

“P… Please…”

Jungkook was quite sure he was a hair’s breath away from ripping off his pants to get some relief.

She finally made her way to stand in front of him. Smile so close now, emphasized by painted lips.

Her hands closed over his, peeling them away from his crotch, holding them loosely. She leaned forward, placing a delicate kiss on his lips. Deep, meaningful, nothing flashy. Drew back, still smiling.

This smile.

He wanted to protect it forever.

“I should have told you that I love you, but I didn’t know it then,” he whispered.

She chuckled.

“I know now.”

She was lowering herself as he spoke, tilting her head at him, inviting him to continue. Getting to her knees, positioning her feet right under her ass, neat and orderly. His hands dropped, leaving hers on his belt, undoing the buckle, her gaze still on him. Looking up at him with amusement, diamonds glittering on her throat, perky tits and nipples, thighs on display, kneeling in front of his crotch.

“I love you.”

Jungkook meant it, every syllable.

He never meant it more in her life.

“I know.”

What?

She casually undid his belt and slid the closure open, unzipping his slacks.

“Wait… what?” he sputtered, blinking rapidly.

“I know you love me,” she repeated calmly.

Jungkook had time for a single blink before his pants were yanked down to his knees. He started, almost falling over, but her hands came up behind his legs and gripped them, keeping him upright.

“Careful,” she purred, stroking the backs of his thighs.

He jerked his head down, hardly able to breathe, shock blossoming as she leaned forward, hot breath warming his black boxer briefs. Eyes on his face, pink tongue extending.

“O-Oh, fuuuck…”

She planted her tongue over his hardness and soaked it with saliva, wetting the fabric and tracing the outline, molding his underwear to his length, sending him into gasping shivers, heat from her tongue and then her lips closing, blowing a cool stream over it, hot and cold, sensation and deprivation, too much and not enough, placing kisses all over and he flinched with every one, savoring the feeling, the touch that was familiar and unfamiliar, everything he wanted.

“W-Wait… that’s dirty…”

“Not as dirty as the things I want to do to you.”

Not as dirty as the things I want to do to you.

Pants racking his torso, looking down, and it was the same but different, her lips kissing up his abs, his chest, back to his face, holding him to her, lipstick smeared and now on his skin. Open mouth to elegantly parted lips, gasping as she collected her breasts and pressed her nipples to his chest, squashing the softness to his pecs.

“Spit on my cleavage,” she breathed.

“W-What?”

She raised an eyebrow, knowing that he heard her perfectly well, squeezing her breasts together and rubbing them on his chest, sending the electric sensation of her large nipples dragging across his heartbeat, rolling her shoulders to the beat of the sea, bathed in silver moonlight.

“Spit on my tits, Jungkook.”

“I… c-couldn’t… do that to you…” he moaned, pitch hiking with pleasure.

She didn’t chide him to cover his mouth this time, instead smirking wider, licking her teeth. “Sure, you can. Do it, golden boy. Spit on me.”

She hooked a leg over his hip and grinded her crotch to his wet one, causing him to whine, knowing his cock was so close to her pussy but not yet skin to skin, the soaked fabric barrier driving him insane, his hands coming up to grip her waist and press her down on him, staring into her eyes, inhale shaky and erratic.

She smiled, teasing, sculptural, his.

“You trust me?”

Jungkook was drunk on something he didn’t understand and it was love.

“Yeah…”

He leaned forward, capturing her lips, an intense, burning kiss. She smiled into his kiss, and he knew she was aware of his nervousness, but she remained patient as she always was, pressing back daintily, taking his breath away. He broke apart, trembling.

She nodded, telling him it was okay.

He collected saliva at the tip of his tongue and looked down, spitting into her cleavage.

It shot out of his mouth, splattering over the swell of her breasts and onto his own chest. His ears burned, self-conscious at the dirty act, but she moaned deliciously, backing up, his saliva dripping down and stuck to the inside curve of her breasts. He had a moment to appreciate the image, the most beautiful woman in the world with her diamond choker and his spit on her tits glistening in the moonlight reflected by the sea.

“Wow.”

That was all he could say as the image burned into his memory.

She smirked, falling to her knees, tugging his black boxer briefs down his thighs, his stiff cock popping out, bobbing in the air at the suddenness of its release, and then trapped once more, except this time not in drenched fabric but in her soft, saliva-covered breasts – or his saliva, depending on how he thought about it – but he couldn’t think about it, abrupt pleasure shooting up his spine, throwing his head back in a moan, eyes darting everywhere, surrounded by mirrors, reflections of his face, his long black hair a wild mess, his facial features consumed by wanton lust, his throbbing cock jammed between her breasts and her body sliding up and down, her large nipples rubbing against his crotch and thighs, oh, fuck, the sensation insane, soft and rough and wet, her perfectly pinned hair leaving only the curls at the ends bouncing from her effort.

She spit down his length, adding to the lubrication and her name burst out of his mouth in an erratic groan.

“F-Fuck…!”

She pushed his cock up, almost uncomfortable, but then her mouth closed around the tip, tongue swirling, and he was lost again, ecstasy as she switched to blowing him, pressing her breasts to his thighs, smearing the saliva on them too, covering his cock in red lipstick, soaking every centimeter with saliva, running her tongue over the veins and the head, his hands clenching into fists, close, so close, and then she popped her mouth off, leaving him near tears and in whines.

“P-Please, let me cum, please…”

“I want you to cum on my necklace,” she panted, planting his cock in her cleavage again, lacing her fingers over it, pressing the head down into the slick skin, shock of her words and the escalating pleasure, his chin lowering and staring down at glittering black diamonds and the engorged tip of his length popping in and out of her breasts.

“You want me to… cum on your necklace…?” he echoed hollowly, in utter disbelief.

“Fuck yes, I do,” she grinned, tip of her tongue flickering at the edge of her lips. “Cum on my diamonds, Jungkook.”

Well, fuck.

This was the worst surreal and hottest moment of his life.

He clenched his jaw and thrust his hips into her chest, adding to the stimulation, chasing it, seeing her grin grow, devilish and devious, squeezing him tighter, faster, faster, faster, his hands and his body shaking, gripped by pleasure and her hold, panting her name over and over, his prayer, his drug, his lifeline, trying to hold out, the line inside him pulled taut, thinner and thinner, snapping.

“F-Fuck, I’m gonna cum!”

His hips jolted and he forced them upward, her head tipping back as the thick red tip popped out, twitching and splattering thick streams of white, painting the black diamonds with his white orgasm, clinging to the jewels and her collarbones, dripping down, covering her with his strong and masculine scent. She lifted her body, trapping his jolting cock in her breasts, and he moaned helplessly, rutting against her skin, sparks of pleasure shooting through his veins, uncontrollable flinching and shuddering as more dribbled out, milked out by the tightness.

“Oooooooh, f-fuck… fuck, I’m s-so sorry…” he gasped out, wincing at the mess he made.

“Ah, shut up, Jungkook.”

In awe, he watched her back up slightly, strings of his orgasm all over her breasts, chest, and diamonds.

She smiled and dipped her fingers in it, coating them with his cum and bringing them to her smeared red lips, licking them off one by one, pink tongue slipping between her elegant digits, moaning as she drank up his taste.

Eyes on his, drunk on him.

time left: --:--

Kim Namjoon leaned against Kim Seokjin’s shoulder, listening to the other man’s deep breathing.

They were sitting on the plush green couch in Kim Taehyung’s room.

The night was quiet, nothing but the sound of the waves coming through the open window, a light breeze as Namjoon watched the moon reflect off the ocean. Seokjin had already fallen asleep, head resting against the back of the sofa, tired from the day’s events and needing the rest. Namjoon felt the drowsiness beginning to weigh on him too, using Seokjin’s wide shoulder as his headrest. He had opened the window to prevent the room from getting too stuffy.

It would have been more comfortable to be in that giant bed with the one he was paid to protect, but he hoped she was in good hands now.

He smiled to himself, watching the silver moonlight dance off the choppy waters.

His mind went back to those moments, moments when he had to hold her shoulders and remind her of who and where she was, moments when he sat and waited as she clenched her teeth and a skilled medical tattoo artist filled in those white scars all over her hands, moments of when she finally sat him and Seokjin down and told them why she sometimes woke up at night, screaming and crying, yelling the names of past demons.

She had told them she was sorry, sorry for being weak, sorry for not taking responsibility.

Seokjin had scoffed, smacking her lightly on the head. “Are you an idiot? You have been through enough. Stop it with that nonsense. It’s part of our job, so let us do our job.”

After that, Namjoon would make it a point to check up on her at night, reaching over to soothe her brow as she slept, relaxing her face with gentle touches. He wanted to be there in case she woke up from a nightmare, and it became a habit, until Seokjin too elbowed himself in the bed, muttering that she always got the best digs anyway, so why shouldn’t he? He was handsome enough, after all.

They only accompanied her to events or appearances.

It bothered Namjoon to think that sometimes she was alone in her own home, waking up screaming and crying, and that he couldn’t be there.

He wondered what would come of this.

Jeon Jungkook.

Did he know that if he broke her heart that two ‘big-scary-dudes-with-massive-shoulders’ were going to find his ass and rearrange it?

Hm.

Namjoon closed his eyes, letting the night take him under its wing.

time left: error

The black diamond choker was on the vanity, covered in Jungkook’s cum.

Both of your clothes were on the floor, shoes, pants, dress, undergarments, strewn all over, a mess, along with a now cold, wet, white bath towel that smelled like semen and saliva. It had what was left of your red lipstick on it.

One of the designer cosmetic bags was open.

There were condoms scattered on the bed now, thrown over the red silk sheets.

Jungkook was holding your hands, palms up, tenderly kissing them.

It felt strange, his soft lips on your scars.

Most people didn’t realize it. It wasn’t something they looked for or thought to think twice about, because to them, your hands had always been like that. It would be rude to comment or mention it even if they had noticed.

But Jungkook had known your hands before they became like this.

“It’s why I stopped going to school.”

He kissed the pads of your fingertips, looking at you with those dark brown orbs.

“Did something bad happen?”

You smiled, somewhere between sad and apologetic.

“I wanted to make sure that I could still see you, but unfortunately I ended up doing the exact opposite.”

He squeezed your hands tightly, giving you his own smile. “Still, you came back to me.”

You chuckled ruefully. “Not with the best intentions.”

The silver moonlight highlighted all your favorite features, the cupid’s bow of his lips, the tiny mole underneath, the wrinkle of his nose with his smile, the stars in his eyes.

“You’ve always been dangerous and ill-advised for me, but I always liked that about you.”

You arched a brow. “Hm, you were a shitty class representative, huh?”

Jungkook shrugged. “You weren’t really a class delinquent either.”

You shook your head, pulling your hands out of his. “Look at you. What kind of class presentative gets all these tattoos?” you teased, dancing your fingers up his right forearm and elbow, tracing the outlines of the script and graphics, following the swirls of the clouds and flower petals with your nails, listening to his shallow breath at your touch. “And an eyebrow piercing? Are you trying to tell everyone you’re one of the cool kids now?”

His lips twisted into a small frown. “Am I cool?”

You shrugged. “Every time I hear about the cool kids in our grade, it’s just about how they got knocked up too early or how they dropped out of university, so you tell me.”

“I haven’t gotten knocked up.”

You gave him a look, bordering on impatience.

“Wait, I mean–”

You raised a hand and planted it on his chest, pushing him down on the bed.

“Enough. Stop talking, please.”

You crawled over his body, placing your hands by his head, looking down at him. Jungkook stared up at you, long black hair splayed over the pillows. He was definitely a man now, sharp jawline, manicured brows, slight dark circles from long nights, and, as you leaned down, expensive cologne now, still light and clean but with a twist of sharpness and sweet fruit, still with the same warmth. Your lips pressed against his jaw, leaving kisses, sinking your weight onto him, skin to skin, his gasps under you, and now it seemed like you were back in that time, his teenage self and your teenage self, the same eagerness as his arms surrounded you, running his hands down your back, but now he added his nails, making you hum in approval. He did it more, scratching his nails over your spine as you kissed his jaw, his throat, his ear, jingling his earrings with your tongue, whispering against his skin.

“No one has ever been what you are to me.”

You didn’t bother using past tense, because it wasn’t.

You sat down on his thigh, his semi-hard cock twitching against your skin, turned on by your kisses and your tongue toying with his ear.

“You weren’t even very good, you know. You were kinda shit. Too impatient.”

He shuddered, tensing his forearms against your sides.

“I’m b-better now…” he whimpered, turning into a moan as you bit his ear and rubbed your wetness on his thigh, painting it with your juices. You kept it slow, leisurely, with even pressure.

“Still…”

You lifted your head, bringing your fingers inward, slipping them into his hair, pushing it back, caressing his temple with your thumbs.

“I have loved you all this time, Jungkook, even back then when I didn’t know what love was, when I was only chasing a feeling that was different from all the others.”

His eyes widened, stunned by your words.

“Ah, nevertheless, I came back too late.”

“No.”

His hands on your back, holding you tightly to him.

“I want to kiss you all the time,” he whispered, words from long ago, bringing them back. “And I will.”

He raised his forehead and touched yours.

“I know it’s not fair, I know it’s bad, I know it’s terrible, but I’ll be fucked up if you can’t be right here, with me.”

His lips to yours, small kisses and closed eyes, hiding his tears behind his lashes.

“You are the happiness, and if you continue to love me, I will never let you go.”

That’s what Jungkook said, but the sentiment was slightly interrupted by his cock being so hard that it was actually raising your thigh up into the air.

You smiled against his lips, chuckling.

“I guess I’ll bring a towel when you get her cocktail splashed into your face.”

“Maybe two. She has a lot of internet friends.”

“Hm.”

You lifted your head, smirking.

“Well, I can’t say it would be the first relationship I’ve ruined, although those were far more indirect.”

Jungkook tried to make the moment romantic, but her naked body was on top of him with her wet pussy rubbing on his thigh and his dick was coming back to life right in the middle of his speech.

Still, he couldn’t really complain, because at the moment he was ripping open a condom, on his knees between her legs, rolling it down, eyes roaming over her body lines, poised and elegant and sexy, her hair flared out on the pillows, still neatly pinned up, some kind of sorcery, but that didn’t surprise Jungkook, for she had always had her spell on him and he was better for it.

“You want missionary?” she teased.

He bit his lip, nodding.

“I want to watch your face.”

Her tongue flickered out on the edge of her upper lip, accenting the high point of her smirk.

“Good, then I can watch yours.”

He positioned himself in front of her, pausing for a second, unsure now, but she simply grinned and reached between her legs, one hand on his length and the other on his hip, digging her nails into his ass and shoving him inside her.

“Oh, fuck!”

She seemed highly amused, but he was gone, sudden tightness and wetness enveloping him, pitching forward and catching himself on his palms, sinking into red silk, the intensity bursting from his core and washing over him, shuddering and gasping as she gripped his ass with both hands and sank him down into her pussy, down, down, drowning in the feeling, diving into the depths of pleasure, fuck, he felt it everywhere, her walls clenching and wrapped around his length, the sensitive head rubbing against the ridges, and the emotions that rushed through him as he looked into her eyes, a little humiliated that it affected him so much, a little shocked at how good it felt even with the condom, and a lot of lust and trust and love, all rolling into one, and she purred his name, smooth and silky and gentle, and he couldn’t help himself, slowly rolling his hips and smacking down hard, burying himself to the base, eyelids fluttering, feeling it radiate over his body.

“Too... hard?” he choked out, trying to be considerate, desperate not to fuck up.

She shook her head, snickering.

“Not even close.”

“How can I–?”

But she didn’t let him finish, tapping the mandala flower tattoo on his right elbow and he raised his arms, at loss for words and breath when she raised her legs to his shoulders and tugged his forearms back down, his hands landing on the bed once more.

Oh no.

This was tighter.

“Fuck me, Jungkook, and make it rough.”

I can’t talk or I will blow my load in two seconds.

He nodded, tensing his jaw, and smacked his crotch down, her thighs smacking against his chest.

Oh, fuck me.

He wished he could sound less desperate and less ruined, but he simply didn’t have the capacity for that any longer, tumbling into a series of wild moans as he built up the pace, wave after wave of pleasure crashing into him, too much sensation, soft thighs, wet tightness squeezing his throbbing length, her hands on his upper arms, holding on tightly, his name falling from her mouth along with her erotic exhale. He loved every sound she made, every single one, her moan, her hiss, her growl, fuck me, fuck me, fuck me, that’s it, give it to me, Jungkook, loved the way she looked at him, a mixture of bliss and slyness, loved the sound their bodies made, a harsh rhythmic smack, louder and louder, messing up the sheets, her head tipping back, eyes closing, fuck, yes, gonna cum if you keep going like that, so he did, hard, firm, powerful slaps of skin-to-skin, feeling so good but holding himself back, biting his lip hard and moaning in his throat, not willing to orgasm until he made her do so, at least twice.

Jungkook was being ridiculous, he knew, but he wouldn’t forgive himself if he lost it too soon during his first time inside her.

“Mmm, fuck, Jungkook, fuck!”

A sharp throb and then a cascading effect, brutal massages of his length, and he didn’t even realize it, pausing for a second from the strength of her orgasm, his cock clenched all over and squeezed, shocking pleasure that made his eyes roll back, struggling with every fiber of his being to not explode, edging himself by ceasing his thrust, and then he drew back and rammed back into her, clawing up the sheets to press her further down into the bed, nearly bending her in half, but she didn’t seem to mind, gripping his arms and raising her hips to meet him, deeper now, the head being constricted even tighter by this changed angle, him sucking in a deep inhale, smelling blackberry, evergreen, and sex, the sweet smell of her pussy, reminding him of sitting on the bus on his way home and catching that scent on his hands and clothes, not regretting it, loving her mark on him.

It was better now.

Better because he was actually in her pussy.

And better because her teeth caught the side of her lower lip, a second of lost control, lashes lowering, moan in her mouth, his name, his name, his name leaking from her lips.

“Oh, Jungkook…”

He would never tire of it.

Never.

It burst again, a lewd squelch, and the insides of his thighs were soaked with viscous honey, clinging to his balls, violent throbs around his jerking length and Jungkook was gone, gone, everything accumulating at the peak and shattering down, his deep moan flooding the room, shooting his orgasm into the condom as his quivering cock was clenched all around, unbearable euphoria that he welcomed, letting it consume every nerve and vibrate through him, a feeling he never wanted to end.

He let it swallow him, her ocean, her moonlight, her night, and he promised himself that he would never leave.

All in all, Jeon Jungkook hadn’t changed much. That was alright. It was clear that you both had unfinished business in the past that was being hashed out right now.

Through sex, because how else?

He was behind you, both of you kneeling on the bed, his breath on your skin, murmuring your name, wonderment and desire, leaving a trail of kisses on your shoulders and neck.

“You can bite me, you know.”

He nipped at your skin experimentally. You pinched his finger on your upper arm, the little sheepish emoji on his middle right. He squeaked and bit harder. You hummed approvingly, lowering your hand.

“You’re turning me into a crazy person,” Jungkook mumbled to the curve of your neck.

“You were already a crazy person. You just pretend you’re not.”

“That’s not true…”

You gently peeled his right hand from your arm and yanked him forward. He inhaled sharply, hard chest hitting your back as you tugged his arm forward, curving it around you.

“What non-crazy person blacks out the inner part of their elbow and tattoos the bone on the outer part as well?” you accused, rubbing his muscular forearm against your nipples, smirking at his moan, his shiver traveling through your back and to the sparks of pleasure radiating from your breasts at the lovely friction.

“Um…”

That was as far as he gave you as an answer because he had no good answers.

“Mhm.”

His hand curved around your left breast and he ran his fingers over it, tugging at your nipple. You leaned into his touch, sighing softly. Well, maybe you had been a bit harsh. He had changed. Less clumsy now, attaining his own irresistible sensuality that he probably wasn’t even aware of, considering the wavering in his tone.

“You’ve probably had better than me, huh…”

“You would be surprised at the complete inadequacy of the human race when it comes to sex, Jungkook. Most people don’t give two shits about listening to their partner’s wants.”

He pinched your nipple and you moaned, rubbing your ass against his crotch.

“You always do everything I want and even things I didn’t even know I wanted,” he mumbled.

His cock was getting the hint with every rock of your hips, rousing at the soft friction. You listened to his rapid breathing, amused, the amusement turning into fond irritation as you felt his free hand slide between your bodies, tucking his hardening length between your ass cheeks, now slowly and non-discreetly humping you.

Well.

Can’t say you were surprised.

“You’re not that hard to read, Jungkook.”

He was leaking all over the top of your ass, ramming the head into your tailbone, now both hands on your chest, forgetting to answer, too absorbed in touching you, tugging at your nipples in time with his rocking hips, lips back to your neck, biting down and sucking hard, leaving marks. There was power in his hold, passion and desperation, a needy whine vibrating in his throat, faster, harder, pinching your nipples and rubbing the tips, pulling slightly, pleasure from his lips and his hands, your own reaching back and clawing at the small of his back, leaving scratches, yes, please, harder, mark me, make me yours, and you chuckled at his declaration, you were always mine, Jungkook, and he moaned your name in affirmation, licking up your neck, hot shaking breath ghosting your ear.

“Wanna fuck you from behind.”

You sunk your nails into his skin and brought your fingers outward, flicking your wrists to leave sharp lines of lust, his moan in your wake.

“Do it,” you drawled, voice saturated with need.

He pushed you down and your caught yourself with your hands, clutching fistfuls of red silk. You heard the rip of another condom and his groan as he encased his aching length, one hand on your ass, and you spread your legs, his knees fitting between them, the head grazing your wet opening and he slid in with a shudder, filling you up and stretching you out, a little pain that dissipated as he squeezed your ass with two hands, sighing with satisfaction with you.

“I know I said I want to kiss you all the time, and I do,” he panted, stalling.

You smiled, turning your head to look over your shoulder. Jungkook looked back at you and he reached forward, driving deeper into you, making you mewl for him. He plucked the pins from your hair, one by one, undoing the perfection, tossing them aside as he spoke, shrouding your shoulders and face with cool-toned black, surreal and glamorous.

“But I think I’ve decided I also want to fuck you all the time.”

You smirked. “You don’t take much convincing, I must say.”

He eased the last pin from your hair and flicked it aside.

You heard it fall to the floor.

That one wouldn’t be found in the morning.

He grinned. “Maybe I already knew you would be amazing.”

Instead of replying, you leaned forward and then smacked your ass back into his crotch.

Jungkook reeled, hand flying back to your hip, grabbing it tightly as you roughly pushed back into him, his natural response being to thrust forward, compounding the pleasure for you and for him, looking forward again and tipping your head back, letting go, moaning for him, his hardness twitching with your sound, loud and getting louder, bodies tangled, bed creaking, clutching your ass for dear life. You lifted one hand and brought beside your hip and Jungkook gripped your forearm, your body naturally dropping lower, deepening each thrust, and that was it, the uncontrollable need resonating in his deep voice, forcefully pounding you into the mattress, thighs, crotch, balls slapping into your lower half, carnal and wild and visceral, his name and your name mixing together, filling the room with the sight, sound, and smell of sex, so strong, fuck, he was so fucking strong, and so were you, a shock every time your bodies connected, until you were wailing with the ferocity of orgasm, squirming and clutching his forearm as he held yours, clenching around his length, but this time he didn’t stop, fucking you through it, gasping for air.

“Oh fuck, yes, fuck, do it again, cum for me again, fuck, feels so fucking good, feels like you’re choking my cock…”

And he brought it out of you again, your right hand punched into the sheets, your left in his hold, moaning for him, Jungkook, fuck, Jungkook, for him then, him now, him forever, ecstasy and elation, hitting a high you thought didn’t even exist, lust and trust and love, raising your torso and slamming your palm onto the headboard, rattling the whole damn bed.

“Fuck!”

Slamming back onto his cock and squeezing hard, Jungkook gasping at the suddenness of the harsh throbs around his length, jolting inside you and spilling another into the condom, your head whipping to the side, spotting a mirror and there he was, head thrown back, long black hair touching his shoulders, open mouth, eyes rolled back, chest shuddering, your name a shaky moan, holding you tight, his right arm travelling, wrapping around you and lifting you up, and then it was you in the mirror, your body against his, skin to skin, his dark brown orbs shifting down, feeling your eyes on him, and then he was watching your reflections, seeing your joined bodies, panting in unison, both sweaty and spent.

You smiled at him, lit up by moonlight and mirrors.

He smiled back.

And then his hand was on your chin and he turned your head to face him, tilting his head and kissing your smile, seeing it not its reflection but the real thing, no longer only when you thought he wasn’t looking.

time left: 00:00

“Oi.”

Jungkook didn’t recognize that voice at all. He concluded must still be dreaming.

A finger podded his temple.

“Oi!”

He started, but the arms encircling him pinned him in place, not letting him and his naked body leave the bed. Softness pressed against his back, bare nipples rubbing against his skin. He froze.

His dick was rock-hard.

A black-haired man in a black suit with a disturbingly handsome face was glaring at him.

“You animals made a fucking mess.”

“Go away, Seokjin.”

Jungkook squeaked, unable to talk because one of the hands holding him was dancing downwards under the covers, wrapping around his impossibly stiff length. He prayed it wouldn’t start moving up and down, but it did. Slowly. Not enough, but still too much, because he didn’t really want to get jacked off first thing in the morning while someone was very clearly assessing whether or not to cause extreme bodily harm to him.

Well, he did want to get jacked off first thing in the morning.

It was the bodily harm he was less enthused about.

The man named Seokjin squinted at him and it took every fiber of Jungkook’s being to not make a goddamn peep as her fingers ghosted the head, smearing slick pre-cum over the slit.

“I want to take a shower.”

“Then go take a shower. I left towels for you,” she mumbled behind Jungkook’s back.

“Namjoon’s in the shower right now.”

“Then order us some breakfast.”

“I sent Taehyung to do that. Also, it’s noon.”

“Couldn’t you order room service?”

Seokjin shrugged and Jungkook realized his shoulders were huge. “He said he had a friend who worked in the kitchen and was going to reserve us a table.”

She raised her head, resting her chin on Jungkook’s right shoulder and pulsing his cock with her right hand under the sheets. “Taehyung has a lot of friends, doesn’t he?”

Seokjin looked at Jungkook pointedly.

“Er… yeah. T-Tons…”

Those brown eyes narrowed, scrutinizing Jungkook suspiciously. “He seems like a dork.”

“I like dorks. That’s why I keep you around.”

Seokjin stuck his tongue out childishly and yelled at the top of his lungs. “Namjoon!”

“I’m done!”

“Finally,” Seokjin grumbled, walking off and yanking the bathroom door open, barging in unceremoniously.

“Gah!”

“Gah!!!”

“Oh, fuck, please, d-don’t…”

“It’ll only take me a second.”

You dove under the covers and Jungkook clapped his hands over his mouth, your grip on his twitching length moving fast and tight, rubbing your tongue on the hot head, and you were right, it only took a few seconds, and then Jungkook was hissing through his fingers, now, fuck, now, and your mouth swallowed his cock, not a moment too soon as thick spurts of his orgasm shot into your throat, coating the back of your tongue, savoring his smell and his thighs under your breasts, rubbing your nipples on the muscle.

“N-No, stop, stop,” Jungkook whimpered desperately, grabbing you by the shoulders and yanking you up, your head popping out, smirk on your lips.

You opened your mouth and showed him your tongue covered in his cum.

“Shit, you’re going to be the death of me…”

He hurriedly nudged your chin and you closed it, grinning.

Dangerous.

Ill-advised.

Jungkook grinned back at you helplessly, holding your smiling face in his hands.

---

some time later

“I have two towels.”

“She didn’t throw her drink at me.”

“Damn. I even seduced the bartender a little bit to get those plush cotton ones.”

“She asked if she could keep the ring so she could sell it and give the money to her secret, less good-looking boyfriend so he could buy her a new ring.”

“Oh. Wait, what?”

He shrugged, rubbing the back of his head. “I said sure, because it wasn’t like the love of my life couldn’t afford her own diamonds.”

“Ah, true, true.”

“I might be slandered for a little while on the internet.”

“Nah, you won’t. Maybe for like, six hours. Then everyone’s attention span will be somewhere else. Also, your taste upgraded in their eyes, from social media influencer to burlesque dancer.”

You grinned, raising your hands to create a finger frame of your index fingers and thumbs, enclosing the handsome face of Jeon Jungkook, long black hair, silver brow piercing, dark sculpted eyebrows, big brown eyes, defined jawline, shapely pink lips, mole of his nose and cheek, and finally that perfect mole underneath his lower lip, appearing as he smiled at you, confused at what you were doing.

“Even though we all know you’re just a hopeless sucker for the class delinquent. Tsk tsk.”

His grin grew mischievous, walking over to you as you lowered your hands.

“Well, I was a shit class representative anyway.”

He leaned down to kiss you, smile to smile.

Twelve hours.

Sunset to night.

fin.

masterpost

#jungkook x reader #jungkook smut #bts smut #jungkook x you #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x you

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