short and intense escape @dark-muse-iris - Tumblr Blog

what happens in vegas pt. 1

You learn the hard way that what happens in Vegas never actually stays in Vegas.

pairing: jungkook x female!reader genre: childhood lovers, exes to lovers, accidental marriage, smut, lots of angst but a happy ending (eventually) warnings: excessive alcohol consumption that leads to impaired decision making, language, explicit sexual content, emotional pain, past childloss words: 6,526 authors note: this was originally published in 2018 and has been left in it's original state. All 6 chapters of the original fic will stay the same, and everything else afterwards is original content that I have written recently. I always regretted never finishing this fic and I think it's about time that I do. so this is for @dark-muse-iris and any of my readers who have stuck around during my long hiatus.

“Please tell me why we are going to the airport at 4 in the damn morning?” you groan, handing your suitcase over to your cab driver who is trying hard not to laugh at your current state of sweatpants wrapped in a denim jacket.

Irene rolls her eyes, “Y/N, we are only going to be in Vegas for 2 nights. We need to make the most of it. Plus, the tickets were like $100 less than if we left later in the afternoon. Just sleep on the plane.”

She gets in the back of the cab, hoping to close the door before your sharp tongue can come with a witty remark. But you aren’t about to let her off the hook that easily. You throw open the door, sliding into the seat next to her.

“Y/N, I don’t want to hear it. You are not going to ruin this for me! It’s my bachelorette party. I only get one” Irene snaps, holding her hand to your face as you buckle your seat belt.

“If you’re lucky,” you mutter under your breathe, making your best friend smack your thigh loudly.

The rest of the drive is spent in silence as both of you are too tired to try and make conversation, especially since you had been up almost the entire night watching Irene pick out her clothes for the next 2 nights. Two of you spent almost an hour picking out a black dress that looked identical to every other black dress she owned, but swore was different. As the dark purple circles settled under your eyes this morning, the only thing on your mind was getting through security and popping a Nyquil so that you could spend the rest of the flight in peace.

“We’re here,” Irene whispers, shaking your shoulder to wake you up after what felt like five minutes. Her eyes shift past you, focusing the on something behind you, “I should have probably told you sooner, but Jungkook is coming.”

“And you’re telling me this now?” pointing to the airport outside the window “You decide to inform me that my ex-boyfriend is coming on this trip right now? You told me two days ago that he wasn’t coming because of work.” you hiss, chasing your best friend out of the car and towards the trunk.

“And he wasn’t going to! But then he called Namjoon yesterday and told him that he had managed to get the time off.” Irene all but pleads for forgiveness, hiding behind the cab driver.

“You should’ve told him he wasn’t invited! That the plane was completely booked! The hotel was completely booked! Anything!”

She shrugs, “He’s Namjoon’s best friend, Y/N. And he had already bought his ticket, what was I supposed to do?”

You take your suitcase from the driver and make a beeline for the airport entrance, “I’m not speaking to you until we get to the gate.”

Irene knows better than to push you when you’re upset, that law school and your work had given you a short fuse. Your attitude worked in the courtroom, helping your clients leave feeling happy and content and divorced while they fill your pockets with the end of their marriage. But it didn’t always translate the same to your personal life and most of your loved ones knew to stay far away when you were upset, knowing that your emotional time bomb was slowly ticking away.

It isn’t until you’ve both winded your way around the security line that you turn your attention to your best friend and ask, “Is he on our flight?”

Irene chews on her lip before answering, “He and Namjoon are already waiting at the gate.”

You take a deep breath, trying your best to mentally prepare yourself for seeing your childhood sweetheart for the first time in almost a year.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, Y/N. I just panicked and thought that if you knew he was coming you wouldn’t come on this trip with me. You’re my best friend, and I would never intentionally try to hurt you, not when it comes to Jungkook. It wouldn’t feel right celebrating with everyone unless you were there. I’m sorry.”

You shrug, “It’s fine. I mean, I wish you would have told me so I could have at least brushed my teeth and put on some concealer so I could show him what he’s missing but it’s too late for that now. I checked all my makeup.”

She smiles as she takes your hand in hers, “I mean, the good thing about this weekend is that hopefully we’ll all be drinking so much that you won’t even realize he’s there!”

As soon as you reached the gate, your eyes landing on the muscular man who used to be the one you considered the love of your life sitting with his carry on, you knew that was going to be impossible. He looked exactly the same as he always did, his features still stuck in a time where things were easier. The remnants of your teenage years still clinging to his face. You remembered when he got that scar on his cheek after a fight with his brother. It wasn’t fair how he just the sight of him was enough to set you back several years, the feeling in your gut was the same one you felt the first day of high school when Jeon Jungkook walked into your home room class.

But that was years and several grey hairs ago.

Jungkook must have sensed your presence, the ice that hung in the air as soon as the two of you were in a room together making everyone around you shiver. He stared at you with a blank face, unsure how to handle you standing in front of him in sweatpants. His adam’s apple bobbed up and down his neck as he swallowed down his nerves, knowing better than to try to start a conversation before you had your first few cups of coffee.

You settle in a seat as far away from him as possible, there weren’t any open seats near him anyway, and try to distract yourself by scrolling through social media. You can’t help yourself but type in the username he has been using since high school into the search bar. The idiot still had his profile unprotected, allowing your eyes to scan through photos of the past 12 months you hadn’t been together. It was strange to a new face wrapped around his arms. The two of them looking cozy in the familiar backdrop of Jungkook’s favorite bar. At least someone had managed to move on.

It had been several weeks since he had posted anything about her, maybe they broken up. Maybe that’s why Jungkook changed his mind and suddenly wanted to join his best friend and his fiance and his ex-girlfriend on a trip to Vegas. You catch yourself, shaking your head as you remind your heart that Jungkook’s life is no longer any of your business, and it hadn’t been for a very long time.

“Flight 901 to Las Vegas is ready to board at gate 4E” a voice announces over the loud speaker, making everyone waiting at the gate stand up and slowly file over to line up one by one.

“Are you okay?” Irene whispers as you take your place in line several people behind your beanie clad ex.

“I don’t know,” you answer, watching him hand his boarding pass to the woman in a neatly pressed uniform.

As you walk down the aisle of plane you feel yourself getting nowhere, the narrow stretch somehow seeming like it was miles long as you make your way towards your seat. Jungkook was settled into a middle seat with no one around him, hoping that your aisle seat would not be the one next to him.

But that familiar smile appears on his face when you stop in front of his row which was now your own. The plane suddenly feeling four times as small. You slip the your carry on into the overhead compartment next to the dirty old gym bag you had bought him when you were 18. At least one thing seemed to make it over the years, you think to yourself as you hesitate to take the seat next to him.

“Just sit down, Y/N. You’re hovering and I’m already nervous enough as it is” are the first words he says to you in almost a year.

His eyes remain glued to the back of the seat in front of him, staring the television flashing welcome, as you occupy the aisle seat. Jungkook removes his arm from the armrest in order to put as much distance between the two of you as possible in the limited amount of space. It’s awkward to be sitting next to him, to smell his familiar cologne mixing with the smell of his shampoo. The fragrance stirring up years of memories that you shove to the back of your brain, chasing it down with a Nyquil in hopes you can sleep through the several hours long flight.

And you almost do until the smallest amount of turbulence jerks you awake. You head was resting not on the back of the seat, but to your right, and with the weight of someone else pressing against you. Jungkook. Immediately you straighten yourself out, pulling your body away from your ex boyfriend. He doesn’t move, his head slightly dropping but his mouth remained open, a glimmer of drool threatening the side of his mouth. Your hand reaches out, the small part of you that still cares, to wipe his mouth but as his eyes flutter open you drop your hand. Hoping that he didn’t see your attempted gesture.

“You’re drooling,” you tell him.

“You’re staring,” he scoffs, wiping the side of his mouth your fingers almost touched.

“How are we going to do this?” you ask bluntly, making Jungkook roll his eyes.

“How are we going to do what?” he asks sarcastically, knowing the answer to his question all too well.

You choose to ignore his indifference and carry on, “You know what I am talking about Jungkook. This is Namjoon and Irene’s weekend. We can’t get in the middle of that.”

He scoffs, “First of all, there is no ‘we’. You made that pretty clear the night we broke up. And as far as I’m concerned, that’s old news. If I wanted to fight with you I could do that at home and not spend too much money on watered down alcohol in Las Vegas. I’ll stay out of your way as long as you stay out of mine, okay?”

The tone in his voice is catches you off guard and all you can do is nod and mutter, “Okay.”

“Can’t I just stay in the room?” you ask dramatically as you flop down on the hotel room bed several hours of champagne later.

“No!” Irene slurred as the alcohol was already starting to take a hold of her, “You promised you would go out with me! Y/N!”

“Are you a child?” you ask, throwing your suitcase open to find the dress your best friend had made you pack.

Your best friend peeks her head out of the bathroom door with her head of hair half curled, “I am not a child, I am a bride!”

“Okay, princess” you tease, rolling your eyes as you start to undress, replacing the sweatpants from this morning with the snug black fabric.

“I look ridiculous,” you mutter as you take in your reflection of the hotel closet door. The dress clung to your body, highlighting areas you only really paid attention to when someone else’s hands were on you.

“Holy shit, look at you!” Irene shrieks, walking into the main room of the lavish hotel room, “Jungkook is going to die when he sees you!”

“Please, can we not talk about Jungkook? I just want to get wasted and make out with someone I will never have to see again.”

Irene giggles as she returns to the bathroom to finish her make up, “What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas!”

“Never say that again,” you warned as your phone starts to vibrate in your bag.

Even though you had told the firm you would be out of office and unreachable, they still insisted on forwarding every single message to your inbox. The small device in your hand was one of the many reasons why you were still single. After becoming a partner at one of the top divorce and family law firms in the city, you had very little time for other people or yourself for that matter. You try to type your response quickly, knowing that Irene would give you a lecture about not working if she caught you.

“Are you ready?” she asks, making you jump from your place on the bed. Her eyes narrow, “You were working! Weren’t you?”

“Irene, you can’t expect me to not check my e-mail this entire weekend. I just took on a new case,” you sling your bag over your shoulder, giving yourself one last check for lipstick on your teeth in the mirror before making your way to the hotel room door.

Your best friend grabs you by the wrist before you can leave the room, “You promised me! No work for the entire weekend! You’re hot and young and it’s time you start acting like it or you’re going to get wrinkles!”

“You’re the one giving me grey hairs!” you retort, letting her drag you down the hallway.

It only took 30 minutes and several terrible rounds of small talk that you wished you had stayed in the hotel room. The rest of the group invited to celebrate Namjoon and Irene’s impending nuptials were people you had nothing in common with. They were the creative types, working in music like Namjoon or members of the art world with Irene. You could see how their eyes glazed over when you responded to their questions about your work, choosing instead to nurse on your overpriced and watered down drink at the end of the bar instead.

Out of the corner of your eye you could see him pushing through the crowd. Sweat kept his bangs pushed to his forehead and there was a panting in his chest, he must have just come off the dance floor. Quickly, you turn your gaze to the cocktail napkin in front of you, hoping he didn’t catch you staring. But when you gave yourself permission to look, he was gone.

“Looking for me?” He whispers in your ear from behind, making you choke on the drink you had just started to drink from.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you wipe the spilled alcohol from the corners of your mouth.

Jungkook reaches out a finger, swiping his callused hands along the bottom of your chin, “You missed a spot.”

The two of you stare at each other with locked eyes, unsure if this interaction is going to turn into a battle that neither of you would win.

“What are you doing Jungkook?” you finally ask, “I thought we agreed to stay away from each other.”

He shrugs, “Yeah, but that was until I met all of Namjoon’s friends. It looks like you and I are both in the same situation. I know you hate Irene’s friends”

“I don’t hate anyone,” you snort, rolling your eyes at Jungkook’s words.

He leans against the bar, “Then why are you sitting at the bar, alone?”

“It’s none of your business.”

“You’re miserable.”

You glare at him, “You’re an asshole.”

Jungkook smiles, “At least I can admit it.”

The bottom of your jaw becomes unhinged as you stare at him. He wasn’t normally like this, but there was a fire in his eyes that burned brighter as he winked, slowly disappearing into the crowd and leaving you alone. You sink the rest of your drink down in one shot and it’s quickly replaced by a full one, the dark liquor promising a night you would probably regret in the morning. But you weren’t about to let your ex-boyfriend get the last word in.You weren’t miserable, you were just married to your job.

But tonight, you weren’t going to work. Irene had dragged you to Vegas to have fun and that’s exactly what you were going to do.

The dance floor was crowded, full of swaying bodies clad in their best clothing. Strangers showing off their moves in hopes the person holding their hips ends up kissing their lips between sheets after last call. It’s been a long time, since law school, that you had gone to a club like this. You’re more likely to be seen in a swanky cocktail bar full of suits than a darkly lit dance floor. But you’re on vacation, you remind yourself, letting your body move to the music for the first time in too long.

It feels good, a welcome distraction from the fact the person you had once promised the rest of your life to was in the crowd. As your body swayed to the beat your mind went blank, pushing the files waiting on your desk to the back of your mind. Despite the thumping bass all you felt was quiet. You made a mental note to do this more often, to let yourself unwind.

The moments of blissful silence are interrupted when you feel his presence. His fingertips no longer having to touch your skin for you to feel him. Slowly, you open your eyes to the dark club, blinking several times in order for your eyes to adjust to the dim lights. Jungkook’s not far, standing only a few meters away, staring. You stand in the middle of the floor like a deer locked in headlights, unsure of where to go or what to do, but feeling incredibly vulnerable under his gaze.

He makes his way towards you, making it seem like everyone in the room is disappearing and its just the two of you left. But you know what comes next. You know how this all ends, and you can’t bring yourself to let him meet you in the center. Shaking your head, you back away, silently telling him that you can’t do this again. He freezes, letting the crowd surround him until he’s no longer in your line of sight.

It takes several attempts and one sharp jab of your shoulder into a man with too much cologne for you to reach the neon lit bar. You were not drunk enough to handle this, not by any means. The dance floor wasn’t safe. The table with Irene’s friends would surely put you to sleep. If you wanted to salvage any remaining part of the night you wanted to feel the tingle of a buzz. You order your favorite cocktail, but made sure to make it a double. The alcohol stings your lips as you swallow it done. The fire you’ve been craving slowly starts to burn with each sip.

“Easy tiger,” he warns, watching you turn your drink into nothing but a glass of ice.

“Don’t tell me what to do.,” you slur.

Jungkook nods in the bartender’s direction, “It looks like I have some catching up to do.”

You roll your eyes, “Do whatever you want, Jungkook. I don’t care.”

“Clearly,” he chuckles, taking his own glass into his hands.

You look at the dark colored glass, his standard order of whiskey and coke with a lime, “You’re predictable.”

“So are you!” he fires back, pointing to the only thing you ever order.

“What the hell did you think you were doing back there?” the blunt words rolling off your tongue with the ease of liquid courage.

He shakes his head, “You’re fully aware of what you do to me, Y/N. I don’t think I need to tell you that.”

“We can’t keep doing this Jungkook. You and I both know we’re not good for each other. We haven’t been in a very long time.”

You can see his hand tighten around the glass as he takes a long deep breath, “How did we end up here, Y/N? I thought I was going to marry you and now you’re looking at me like I have 12 heads.”

“We were young and naive when we made those promises, Jungkook. We’re not the same people we were back then.”

He nods his head, “You’re not the same.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you ask through narrowed eyes, “Are we really going to talk about this again? Here?”

“No, but I do have one question,” he tells you, a dark flicker spreading across his eyes, “Why is that I still hate you, but I still want nothing more than to kiss you right now?”

You stumble backwards, his words catching you off guard as 20 seconds ago the two of you were about to get into a yelling match. You tell him, “I have to pee,” before running to the safety of the bathroom.

The bathroom of the club is one of the nicest you had ever been too and you’re almost unsure if you should even be inside it. There is a lounge covered in cream and gold fabrics, making it look like the suite of a hotel room, not a place to touch up your makeup. The gold sinks lead to bathrooms the size of the one in your apartment. As soon as you latch the stall door behind you, you let out a sigh of frustration.

You hated him. You hated Jungkook and how his stupid bunny smile made you weak in the knees. You hated how your heart raced the second his eyes locked on yours. In the 10 years you had known him you would have thought that you were able to figure out how to defend yourself from his charms, but every time he looked at you you could feel yourself easing back to how it always was.

It would be good for a while, your relationship. The two of you would get back together and act like whatever fight happened between the two of you didn’t exist. But it wouldn’t take long for the shine to rub off, the cracks hiding beneath the surface unable to be held together by the glue the two of you applied sloppily. It was a vicious cycle that the two of you had spent years trying to break and for the first time in over a year it seemed like you had, until tonight.

The zipper on your dress was easy to get down, but after you finish breaking the seal far too early, you can feel it catch on the fabric unable to move even a millimeter.

“Fuck,” you mutter after a particularly hard yank results in the sound of fabric ripping. You were stuck and with a completely exposed back.

You knew that texting Irene would be pointless, there is so way she was sober enough to feel her phone vibrate in the loud atmosphere of the club. For as busy as the place was, there was no one else in the bathroom. No one to help you get out of the mess you mad. You had no choice but to adjust yourself, hoping that if you didn’t make any swift movements that your dress would remain in place.

“Y/N!” you hear Jungkook shout over the music. He had been waiting for you.

“Not now, Jungkook!” you hiss, not wanting to risk exposing yourself in front of your ex-boyfriend.

“What’s going on with your dress?”

Your hands fly to the back, trying your best to hide the snagged zipper but it was already too late. Jungkook’s hands were swatting at yours, trying to pry your fingers off the pull.

“I don’t need your help,” you hiss as his callused hands succeed in taking yours over.

“How the fuck did you manage this?” he struggles with the zipper, trying his best to undo the mess you had made like he always did.

“I had to pee!” you whine.

He grabs you by the shoulders, “Will you please just stay still and let me help you?”

You let out a sigh, “Fine.”

Jungkook doesn’t say a word, his rough hands fixated on untangling the metal from fabric, but you can feel the tension rising between the two of you. You curse yourself for not wearing a bra, leaving your entire back exposed and Jungkook’s mind open to wander. His hands barely touch your skin, only for a few seconds, but it is enough to send your body into flames. Your body’s automatic response after years.

“All done,” he whispers, letting his fingers hover over the freed zipper, “Do you want me to zip you up?”

“Y-y-yes,” you manage to choke out, holding your breath as you feel his fingertips make contact with your spine.

He slowly drags them down the center of your back, leaving a trail of goosebumps soon to be covered by fabric. Each vertebrae he passes hums, the joints of your spine having missed his hands. Your lower back twitches as his fingers pass one of your most sensitive areas, your Achilles heel located in your back. The pads of his fingers hover, unsure if he wants to zip you back up or take off your dress completely. You can hear him swallow nervously, tugging the metal upwards, covering the areas he set ablaze with your black dress.

He clears his throat and mumbles, “You’re all good.”

He’s about to leave before you stop him, grabbing him by the wrist and pulling him back to face you. Jungkook stares at you, knowing that if something is going to happen between the two of you that it’s going to be on your terms. He waits for your decision that you’re unsure if you should be making in your condition.

But you make one anyway.

“What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas, right?” you ask, waiting patiently for him to respond.

Jungkook’s pupils blow, eyes darkening as he realizes what you’re asking. He nods a yes, closing the distance between you in seconds. His hands grip your face, fingertips settling perfectly along your cheekbones. He’s cautious, still waiting for you to make the first move, worried that you’re going to change your mind the second he advances.

It only takes two kisses before Jungkook has you pinned between the wall and his chest, your lips eagerly making up for the past 12 months you went without physical or emotional contact. The motions come easy, having memorized the steps to make him go crazy years ago. You’re too caught up in the scent of the cologne he has been wearing since you bought it for him when you got in law school and how his hands fill the spaces on your hips to care who sees you. The dimly lit hallway to the bathroom isn’t crowded, but you know that neither one of you will be able to control yourself for much longer.

“The bathroom,” you breathe in the moment he lets you come up for air, his lips taking place in the spot where your jaw meets your neck, kissing along raised skin.

“You sure take me to the best places,” he taunts.

“Stop talking,” you warn, grabbing your ex boyfriend by the wrist and dragging him into the room you just came out of.

The elegant bathroom you’re about to defile with moans and pleasure is still completely empty, but you don’t want to take any chances. You drag Jungkook into the very last stall, slamming the door with a little too much force, making it rattle on its hinges. He stares at you with pupils blown so widely you can no longer see the dark brown eyes you had loved so much.

“Are you just going to stand there or are you going to touch me?” you quip, reaching out to flick the buckle of his belt.

“What do you want me to do” he asks, sending a wicked smile across your face.

“Kiss me”

He smirks in return, “Where?”

The liquid courage has the words tumbling from your mouth, letting out a side of you that you rarely showed, “You choose.”

“Alright,” he murmurs, slowly sinking down to his knees in front of you.

The sight catches you off guard, maybe Jungkook had changed. Your selfish ex-boyfriend hardly ever returned the favor but you can’t contain your excitement as you look at the head of messy brown hair between your thighs. Your hands gain a mind of their own as they lace themselves in his soft locks, waiting for the moment you need to brace yourself with their help. Jungkook bites and licks a trail up your thighs, pushing your dress further up your waist until the lace is completely exposed.

“These are nice,” he purrs, dragging his finger between the silky band and your skin.

“Take them off,” you breathe knowing that the overpriced material was already ruined with how wet you were. It would have been embarrassing if it had been anyone else, but Jungkook was no stranger to how you reacted to his touch and slipped the damp underwear down to your ankles without as much as blinking.

“Spread your legs for me baby,” he encourages, using his palms to guide your shaky legs open.

“No pet names,” you warn, tugging on the long locks in your fingers.

He responds by spreading open your lips and sharply swiping his tongue across your extremely deprived clit. The jolt of pleasure makes you jerk, rolling your head back against the wooden bathroom stall door. His warm hands find your folds, spreading them open so he can to flick along you slit. The slurred moan that escapes your lips encourages him to strike again, his tongue swiftly moves back and forth, running against your heat from top to bottom.

Jungkook knows what you like and purposefully avoids the hood of your clit, knowing that as soon as his makes contact you’ll be cuming all over him. It had been months since you last lay, a lousy one night stand with a lawyer you had seen around the courthouse, and every single swipe of his tongue makes you quiver, your legs threatening to buckle as your thighs want to close around his head.

“I think someone likes that,” he smirks, pushing your thighs back to their original position and using the opportunity to slip a finger inside of you.

You tighten the hold on his hair as he syncs the pumping of his finger with the flick of his tongue. The newly added pressure making your go completely blank. The small of your back arches off the wood door as the pads of his finger tip finds the right spot. He teases you slowly by dragging his fingertip up and down that small patch of nerves and you don’t think you can take it anymore. He gets the hint, wasting no time to press his tongue flat against the hood of your clit while continuing to pump his finger in your walls.

“Oh fuck,” you gasp as he takes your overly sensitive bud in his mouth, flicking his tongue back and forth repeatedly, gaining speed with every motion.

It doesn’t take long before your hands press into his hair, holding your shaking legs up against the stall as you feel your orgasm starting to spread across your body. Jungkook licks up your juices, not letting a single drop go to waste as his tongue encourages you to cum on his lips.

“I’m going to fucking cum,” you cry, unable to hold back as your ex-boyfriend takes your entire clit in his mouth and tugs. He doesn’t stop until the shaking in your legs settles and your body hums in relief and pleasure.

He wipes your orgasm off his lips, proud of his accomplishments as he stands up to meet your gaze. He bites his lips as he takes your face into his palm, swiping his tongue against his bottom lip and swallowing anything that lingered. There was a smug look on his face that would have made you angry if you didn’t want him to take you back to the hotel.

“What now?” he asks. His hands finding your clothed nipples, sending shock waves down your stimulated system.

“I want you to fuck me,” you tell him, reaching forward to grab onto his belt.

“Are you sure?” he asks slyly before pressing a kiss against your neck, “If you let me take you back to my room we can rack up the mini bar bill on Namjoon’s credit card. And I’ll fuck you any way you like.”

The sound of the bathroom door makes you jump, reminding you of the reality of the situation you had put yourself in. You had just let your ex-boyfriend go down on you in a Las Vegas club bathroom, making you think for a split second that you had lost your mind. But there was something in the way Jungkook was staring at you that made you not want the night to end, knowing that in the morning you each of you would file this into the memory bank of mistakes.

“Let’s go before I change my mind,” you tell him, leading him out of the bathroom as soon as the sound of the lock in the stall several feet down clicked into place.

The morning sun hits you like a ton of bricks, the normally happy sunshine making the pounding in your head triple with every second your eyes are open. The room blurs into focus and you soon realize that you’re not in your hotel room and there is someone who is not Irene holding you closely to their naked chest.

You squeeze your eyes shut, hoping that some sort of last minute prayer was enough for the person next to you to not be who you thought it was. But it was too late as your hungover eyes focused on Jungkook. You stare at the man sleeping next to you. By the drool pooling near the corner of his mouth you knew that the lack of your body weight next to him wouldn’t be enough to wake him. It wouldn’t be hard to sneak out of the room.

Each pulse of your temples alerted you that you had made a terrible mistake last night. One you would not be looking forward to explaining to Irene when you finally got back to the room. You start to wipe the sleep from your eyes when you feel it, the foreign object on the ring finger of your left hand. You never wore rings so the presence of a band of gold wrapped around your finger set your body into a panic.

You quickly slip off the bed to search for any sort of evidence that this was all a joke. That the ring on you finger was something from a quarter machine the two of you had found when you went to get something to fill your stomachs that wasn’t alcohol. There is no way that the two of you had managed to get married in one of Las Vegas’s drive-thru chapels. You might have been drunk, but you certainly weren’t that dumb.

The crumpled manila folder you didn’t know you were searching for was resting on the hotel desk under a pile of empty bottles from the hotel mini bar and you head straight for it.

“Fuck,” you whisper as the glass bottles hit the floor and turn to look to see if the noise had disturbed Jungkook but your ex-boyfriend was sleeping like a baby.

You had seen hundreds of marriage certificates as you made a living off making them no longer exist between an unhappy couple but seeing your name printed next to Jungkook’s was something you never thought you would see. Sure, years ago you had imagined that one day he would call you his wife, but things had changed. The two of you had changed. Marrying Jungkook was something of that past, but now it was very much your present.

“What the fuck am I doing to do?” you whisper to yourself. You think quickly, if you snuck out of the room now you could run to the hotel room and get your laptop and research the marriage laws of Nevada. There was no possible way this marriage could actually be legal as you didn’t even remember it happening in the first place.

“Please don’t tell me you started round two without me,” Jungkook’s sleepy words call out from where he was tangled in the sheets.

The sudden sound of his voice makes you jump out of your skin, one hand gripping onto the back of the desk chair while the other sends the papers in your hand flying across the room.

“Easy tiger, I didn’t mean to scare you. Come back to bed,” he taunts, completely unaware that what happened last night would be enough to squash his morning wood.

“No, I really don’t think that’s a good idea,” you shake your head furiously while your hands pick up your drunken marriage license.

The bed sheets rustle and the mattress squeaks as Jungkook pushes his weight off the queen size pillow top. He can sense something is wrong as he makes his way towards you. The warmth of his hand of his hand used to be comforting, but all you could see was the cheap gold band on his fourth finger, the twin to the one on yours.

“Y/N, it’s okay. We don’t have to figure out what it is going on between us right now. I know last night was a lot,” he smiles, “And I sure as hell don’t remember a lot of it, but we can talk about it when we get back home. Let’s just order room service and fuck all morning in denial”

He places a kiss on your lips but you stay frozen like a statue made of ice and he quickly realizes that you aren’t playing a game, “What’s going on, Y/N?”

You don’t know how to tell him, how to speak the words, “We got married last night while we were blackout drunk and according to the documents in your hand it was very much legal” so you shove the manila folder into his and and blurt out, “Read this.”

Jungkook furrows his brows as you watch him read, chewing on his bottom lip to help his hungover brain focus on the text in front of him. You watch as all the color drain slowly drains from his face as he reads the marriage certificate. When he finally has the courage to look at you the whites of his eyes are blinding, like a deer caught in the headlights of rush hour traffic.

“W-w-w-hat does this mean?” he asks, pointing to the paper in his hands.

“Legally,” you hold up your left hand, “You’re my husband.”

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short and intense escape