Ivy ~

Calling out my name, in the summer rain Ciao amore

[cupidsbling]

Best Mistake | J.JK ᴾᵃʳᵗ ²

Being the heirs of rival mafia families means that you and Jungkook are supposed to be sworn enemies. Yet, as much as you claim to hate each other – deep down, you both know that the feeling is so much more than that. A feeling you both act oblivious to and bury under a haze of lust.

pairing – jungkook x fem reader.

genre – enemies to lovers au, smut, denial,angst¿.

warnings – y/n's kinda emotional, mentions of period sex, possessive and kinda crazy jk, multiple rounds, multiple orgasms, mentions of oral, fingering, praising, jk makes out with her pussy, deep and rough sex, boob sucking, explicit language, i cannot mention a few things as it will spoil the story lol, but there's drama and a lot of cracking, etc...

wc – 11k

part one

You’re currently in a private fitting room of a bridal salon. Sitting, drained in what must be the twentieth dress you’ve tried on today. Finally getting a moment of peace, since your mother is distracted, you pull out your phone and type a simple message to Jungkook.

‘I want to see you.’

You send the message, your heart beating a bit too fast in your chest. After a few seconds, he’s typing.

Jungkook : I’m in the middle of a meeting with the old man. I’m gonna be busy today, but as soon as i’m done, i’m coming to you.

You okay, baby?

You stare at his message, thinking of what to say. You want to tell him the truth – you’re not okay. You want to tell him how you’re basically being forced into this arrangement, how you’re going to be marrying a man you don’t love and barely know.

But instead, you say nothing. Even if you tell Jungkook your situation, what would he do? You doubt he’d even care. Maybe he’d be bummed that he won’t get the opportunity to be intimate with you anymore, but at the end of the day, you could be replaced. You’re not a necessity to him, so you doubt he’d really care that you’re marrying another man.

A soft knock on the fitting room door startles you. “Sweetheart? Are you ready to show me  the next one?” your mother asks bright and lovingly.

You swallow the lump forming in your throat, switch off your phone and walk out the room, ready to show your mother the dress.

“Oh, darling… you look so, so beautiful.”

You force a smile and nod at her. You let the seamstress pick at the dress and examine how it fits you. The dress is beautiful, it’s exactly what you would’ve envisioned yourself wearing for your special day. But right now, it just feels suffocating. Your day isn’t going to be special, it’s not going to be the romantic story you always wanted it to be. It’s just a merger that you’re forced to comply with.

In two weeks, you’ll be tied to the man you do not love and there’s nothing you can do about it.

You look at yourself in the mirror. You see a beautiful bride, an unhappy one, but very, very beautiful. Your mother appears behind you with a bright smile on her face.

“Try the next ones too, sweetheart. We want to be sure.”

You try dress after dress, again. Until you’re wearing the perfect one. The top part accentuates your curves perfectly, showing a bit of cleavage. The bottom is big and poofy and flares out. It looks like it’s made for you, it’s so ethereal on you.

“This one,” your mother whispers with almost teary eyes. “This is the one.”

You stare at your reflection again, blinking away tears that threaten to fall. “I think so too”

Your mother claps joyfully. “Oh, darling. Taehyung is going to lose his breath when he sees you.”

Taehyung. The name causes your heart to race. Your hands ball into fists at your sides, nails digging into your palms. You offer your mother another fake, yet convincing smile as much as it pains you.

୨୧

The second you get into your penthouse, you start peeling off your clothes. You’re irritated and feeling miserable. Your stomach is cramping and your breasts are feeling tender – meaning you’re starting your period soon – maybe you’ve already started it.

You walk over to the fridge,grab a tub of yoghurt and eat it. Your phone buzzes on the counter next to you, but you ignore it. It’s probably your mother checking if you’re home safe, or maybe Taehyung checking up to see if you’re okay, if you’ve eaten or if you want anything. He’s been really sweet to you, seemingly the perfect fiance. He also seems really smitten with you already, as if he’s stoked to be your future husband. You don’t really trust him, it could just be an act to rope you in, to make sure you don’t attempt to flee from the arrangement.

Once you’ve eaten your yoghurt, you toss the container into the bin and lean on the counter, closing your eyes.  These past two days without Jungkook have felt rather torturous, you hated being away from him .You think about him. You miss him. Miss his voice, his smell, his kisses, his rough yet gentle touches.

With a sigh, you make your way to the bathroom. Once you’ve stripped, you notice that you have started your period, indeed. After leaving your clothes in the hamper, you step into the shower and turn on the water, washing yourself thoroughly and letting the hot water cascade over you.

When you finally turn off the water and step out of the shower, you wrap yourself in a towel and look for some pretty, comfortable pyjamas to wear. Tonight you plan on relaxing – having snacks and mindlessly watching a series, just to get your mind off everything.

Hours later, you head to your bedroom, deciding to sleep early. You turn off all the lights and get into bed. Time passes, you twist and turn in the sheets, but sleep doesn’t come easily – perhaps it’s the mild, yet annoying cramps caused by your period, or maybe it’s the nagging thoughts about your looming disastrous fate that’s to be sealed in two weeks. It’s definitely both, although, the second heavily contributes more to your misery.

Your heart skips a beat when you hear a signature knock against your window. You sit up, then get out of bed, excitement bubbling with the knowledge of who it is. You slide the window open and you’re met with the sight of Jungkook. You fight a smile as you let him climb down to get into your room.

He looks at you, examining your appearance. You look so cute in your thin pyjamas, he wants to bring you into his arms and kiss you dizzy. You stare up at him as well, noticing that he looks quite drained. Even though you want to – you don’t comment on it. You’re miserable yourself, at this moment you’re in no mood to offer comfort to him.

Feeling a bit chilly, you walk back to your bed and slide back under the covers. Jungkook follows you of course. He takes off his boots and hoodie before getting into bed with you with a satisfied hum. Your bed is so soft and warm, it’s definitely his favourite place to rest, he makes himself very comfortable.

Even though he can’t see you, since he’s got an arm over his eyes, you raise an eyebrow at him. “You’re just gonna lie there like you own the place?”

He opens an eye and looks over at you. “Pretty much.”

Before you can snap at him, he rolls onto his side, scoots closer and drops his head onto your chest, right between your boobs. As if they’re his pillow.

You scoff at his crude action. “Jeon. You cannot use my tits as a pillow.”

He lets out a bored groan and nuzzles in much deeper. “Love these tits,” he mumbles , his voice muffled against you. “So comfortable and perfect. Would nap here every time if you’d let me.”

He reaches up and gives one a gentle squeeze. You smack his hand immediately. “Hands to yourself, perv.”

He chuckles. He doesn’t move his head though, he just settles more comfortably. His cheek is squashed against you, one arm slides around your waist to keep you close.

“Was really busy today,” he says quietly after a minute. “Stressed out the fuck out. Couldn’t wait to get here.”

His last sentence definitely slipped out by accident. He freezes for a second, not sure why he said it out loud. You don’t call him out for it, neither do you tease him. Instead your hands slide through his hair, gently combing and scratching through the strands lightly. He lets out a long, content sigh, melting against you. The both of you stay like this for a long time, in silence, enjoying the peace you’re bringing to each other.

After a while, he presses his lips to your neck, leaving soft kisses. He does it a few times before he becomes bolder. He leaves open-mouthed kisses on your neck. Your breath hitches when his tongue flicks out to suck and lick on your skin. You tilt your head, giving him more access when he starts nibbling on you. He becomes more rough and passionate, leaving even more marks on you. His hands slide under your camisole, gliding over your stomach then going higher to cup your breast, kneading it gently.

You arch into his touch, making him groan against your neck. His other hand goes down to caress your thigh before making its way up to your ass to dig into the flesh, he kneads it possessively before sliding his hand between your legs. You jolt when his hand makes contact with your core.

“Jungkook, wait–”

Your hand goes down to grab his wrist, halting his movements. He lifts his head from your neck and looks at you.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, concerned.

“I’m on my period.” you admit.

He blinks before grinning at you. You narrow your eyes at him. “Are you laughing at me?”

He leans in and kisses the corner of your mouth before going back down to your neck to leave more open-mouthed kisses there. He finds one of the old marks he left on you and sucks on it to leave a new one.

“I don’t care,” he murmurs. “I’m not scared of a little blood, baby.”

His hand slides back under your camisole, up to your breast to knead it softly, causing your breath to hitch. 

“Jungkook–” 

He lifts his head to meet your eyes. “What?” he asks. “It’s just blood. I’m not gonna freak over it.”

You stare at him, a bit mortified. “It’s a lot… My flow is heavy.”

He shrugs then goes back to kissing your neck. “Still don’t mind.”

“That’s gross.” you huff out.

He sucks on your skin harder. “Not gross to me.”

You bite your lip, considering something rather odd. “Do you…like period sex or something? Is that a thing for you?”

“Nah,” he says, looking at you again. “Never done it before.”

You feel instantly relieved, glad to know your speculation is untrue. “Oh.”

He grins again. “I’d do it with you though. If you want.”

You shake your head quickly. “No… I don’t want to. I feel gross and bloated and I just… don’t.”

He nods, his expression becoming soft after seeing your discomfort. “Okay. We won’t do anything.”

He shifts so that he’s laying properly beside you. He faces you and wraps an arm around your waist to bring you closer to him.

“Come here,” he murmurs.

You let him pull you in, tucking your face into his neck and tangling your legs with his. He kisses your forehead, then your temple while his hand traces up and down your spine, comfortingly. You keep quiet, enjoying his warmth much more than you’d ever admit. 

Everything just feels right at this moment – Hearing Jungkook’s heartbeat, feeling his fingers caress you, smelling the scent of him. This might be the best feeling you’ve ever experienced.

Your throat tightens and you have the sudden urge to cry. In two weeks, you will never get to experience anything like this again. You’ll wake up next to someone else. You’ll have a husband – Kind, polite and gentle Kim Taehyung. You won’t have Jungkook climbing up your window anymore, no more stupid arguments that end in the most passionate sex, no more waking up sore and secretly happy that your supposed enemy stayed the night. You won’t have him anymore.

You swallow hard, forcing the lump back down your throat. You cannot simply tell Jungkook that you’re getting married in two weeks. What on Earth would he think? It’s so sudden and out of the blue. You have no idea how his reaction could be. Would he be angry or hurt? Would he even care at all?

You sigh and snuggle more against him, draping your arm over his stomach.

“You okay?” he asks gently. “Is it sore?”

You nod against his chest. “A little.”

“You should’ve told me you were on your period,” he murmurs as his lips brush your hair. “I would’ve gotten your meds, chocolate and whatever you wanted.”

You snort at that. “Shut up. Stop being so cheesy.”

He huffs out a laugh, but his hand slides down to deliver a playful smack to your ass. You gasp, shocked, immediately pinching above his hip. He groans and retaliates by pinching the soft skin under your ass. With a yelp, you pinch him again, this time on the side of his ribs. He grins, pinching you back, making you giggle and smack his chest.

He grabs your wrist to prevent you from attacking him again. “Brat.”

“Creep.”

He pinches you again causing you to let out another giggle. The both of you carry on messing around with each other for a while, laughing and giggling. Eventually the laughter dies down and you’re a little breathless and tangled up with him.

Jungkook moves the both of you, so now you’re on his chest with your legs slotted together. His hand cradles the back of your head, while the other rests on your waist. He presses another soft kiss to your forehead.

“Sleep, mad woman,” he says.

For once, you decide not to argue. You close your eyes, letting yourself relax on him. He caresses your lower back where the cramps worry you, while pressing kisses to your hair every few minutes.

You fall asleep like that, wrapped up in him and feeling so safe and satisfied. Soon, Jungkook falls asleep as well. Falling into one of the best sleeps he’s ever had, since you’re here, so close to him.

୨୧

In the morning, Jungkook wakes up first. He wishes he hadn’t, it’s too early and he’s way too comfortable. But his phone buzzes on the nightstand. He groans and reaches over, squinting his eyes at the screen. It’s only 6:19am, yet there are seven missed calls from his father’s assistant and quite a few text messages, complaining.

“Shit,” he mutters before leaving the phone back on the nightstand.

He turns to look at you, noticing that you’ve somehow managed to claim most of the space on the bed and 90% of the duvet, leaving him almost at the edge. He stares at you for a long moment. Even in your sleep, you look so annoyingly perfect. He scoots closer until his chest is pressed to your back, then puts his arm over your waist to pull you against him.

He wraps himself around you, his thigh going over both of yours, tucking his chin over your shoulder and caressing your bare stomach. He just lies there, listening to your breath and inhaling your scent.

He knows that he’s late. His phone vibrates again, probably another text from his father, but he ignores it to press his lips to the nape of your neck. After the first kiss, he goes down lower and starts leaving open-mouthed kisses on your neck until you’re stirring and making cute, grumpy sounds, trying to shrug him off. He grins against your skin and continues. He nibbles on your earlobe then sucks on it lightly.

You whine, sleepily. “Jungkook…stop…”

He hums, but moves down to your jaw instead. You gasp before finally cracking an eye open to glare at him over your shoulder. “If you don’t stop I’m gonna kick you in your balls.”

He laughs lowly. “If you do that, princess,” he speaks in a raspy voice near your ear, causing you to tense up. “I’ll put you over my knee and spank you.”

Your breath audibly hitches when he squeezes one of your ass cheeks. “Want that? Hmm?”

“N–no,” you try to sound annoyed, but it just comes out shaky.

He kisses your neck again, then leans over your shoulder to find your mouth and kiss you properly. One of his hands cups your jaw to caress it with his thumb while he keeps kissing you passionately. When he finally pulls back, he rests his forehead against yours.

“I gotta go.” he says reluctantly.

You blink at him. “Now?”

“Yeah,” he tilts your chin up with two fingers, gently, so you can look at him properly. “I’m gonna be busy as hell today, got a lot to do.” he pauses to glance at you while caressing your cheek. “But I’m gonna try and see you, okay?”

You notice the sincerity in his eyes, and the way he doesn’t want to go. He wants to stay here with you. It makes you feel bad, so bad. Because the one thought that’s been worrying you comes back – you only have two weeks left with him, two weeks before you lose him. And you can’t even tell him.

You nod, feeling saddened that he’s leaving you, but knowing that you have to accept it. “Okay.” 

He stares at you for a few more seconds before he leans in to kiss your forehead. Afterwards he stands up, stretches exposing his V-line and some of the marks you’ve been leaving on him. You watch him the whole time, until he’s got his shoes back on and is ready to go.

You get out of bed and walk over to him, stopping right in front of him. You look up at him and he gazes down at you curiously. You reach up, cup his jaw with both hands, rise to your toes and kiss him. 

When you pull back,you speak, “you better make a plan to see him,” you demand against his lips. “Or I’ll do something very bad to you.”

He huffs out an amused laugh. “Yeah?” he asks. “What’re you gonna do, princess? Knee me again?”

“Worse.” you say.

“Promise?”

You smack his chest playfully. “Get going, Jungkook.”

He smiles at you before turning to the window, opening it and making his way down…

────── · · ୨୧ · · ──────

The following days go by extremely fast. As if your wedding day cannot wait to be here. Your mother has been planning and sorting out most of the preparations. The invites have already been sent out to family, friends and allies from yours and Taehyung’s side.

Despite not wanting much involvement, you’ve seen the venue with Taehyung, tasted the cakes and decided on what decorations you want. Taehyung being so sweet and kind, made sure you’re happy with everything and got exactly what you wanted.

But now, there are only three days left. Three fucking days. You’re sick. You’ve barely been eating, drinking or even sleeping much. The only times you weren’t going crazy was when you were with Jungkook. You’ve managed to steal moments with him – quickies in his car, sex at hotels. He had told you so many times how perfect you are, how you’re his. All while fucking you passionately and having you come like crazy.

But it wasn’t enough for you. Every time, you felt a sense of guilt. He didn’t know that you were engaged and were to be another man’s. In just three days, you’ll have to stand in front of hundreds of people and promise forever to somebody else.

Tonight you miss and need him, so you type him a message informing him that you’re coming over. He replies telling you that he’s meeting his friends in the bar, but will be home in thirty minutes. You tell him that you’ll wait.

Across the city, Jungkook looks at your message with a smile forming on his lips. Happy that you want to see him already. He’s been planning to grab a drink with his friends Jimin and Hoseok, since they’ve been wanting to see him for two weeks straight, but he was always busy – either dealing with family business, or with you. So he figures that he can at least give them twenty minutes of his time.

On his way there, he decides to take a little detour. He drives to the expensive chocolatier, the best and most expensive one. Once he’s there, he parks his car and gets out. Inside the store is a woman standing behind the counter with a polite smile.

“Evening, sir. Looking for something special?”

Jungkook rubs the back of his neck awkwardly. “Yeah. uh…chocolate. The best ones you got. And…” he glances around and sees the prettiest bouquet of pink roses. “Those too.”

She retrieves his requested items and places them in a fancy looking bag. He pays for the items, not giving a single thought about the abnormally high price, thanks the lady and walks back out to his car.

He doesn’t know the fuck he’s doing. Doesn’t know why his heart is beating so fast or why’s so nervous. He doesn’t know why the thought of handing you chocolate and roses feels more terrifying than anything else he’s ever done.

But he wants to do it. He wants to give you nice things and so much more. Maybe even take you somewhere nice…somewhere nice that isn’t his bedroom of course. Something like a…date. A date? Jungkook sighs as he gets into his car. What on Earth is happening to him? 

He leaves the items in the passenger seat and takes a moment to stare at him, feeling something unusual in chest. He curses himself, starts his car and makes his way to the bar to his friends, although you’re his main thought the entire drive.

When he gets into the bar, Jimin spots him first. “About time. Thought you weren’t gonna show up again.”

Hoseok looks at him, offering a smile as he sits down next to them. After the greeting, they all order an expensive bottle of whiskey. Jungkook pours himself a shot and downs it all, welcoming the burn.

The three of them talk shit for a while, enjoying each other’s company while downing shots. They talk to each other about work and their weeks. And everything is good, until it isn’t. From further down, inside the bar, Kim Taehyung walks out. Looking calm and content. It makes Jungkook want to put a bullet between his eyes.

Jungkook cannot stand him. For years, they’ve been trying to sabotage and kill each other. Always trying to be ahead of each other as the heirs to their families, but up until now, they haven’t been able to do much damage.

Jungkook’s grip on his glass tightens. His friends notice and tense up as well. Taehyung, ever so unbothered – or perhaps pretending to be, walks right over to them.

“Evening, boys,” he greets warmly. “Mind if I join you?”

Jungkook does not answer him, just stares at him coldly, thinking of ways to end Taehyung. Taehyung doesn’t wait for their permission, he sits down on the empty chair across from Jungkook.

“Round for the table.” he tells the server. “Whatever they’re having.”

He gives his card to the server, she processes the payment and hands it back to him. Taehyung leans back in his chair before speaking again, despite the silence.

“Nice place. You guys come here often?”

Jimin scoffs. “You lost or something, Kim?”

“Just passing by.” Taehyung replies with an easy smile.

Jungkook finally speaks. “Get the fuck out.” he warns.

Taehyung looks at him, seemingly amused. The server comes with the round of drinks. Taehyung lifts his glass to his lips and takes a sip, before reaching into his suit jacket to pull out an envelope and placing it on the table. Hoseok, Jimin and Jungkook look at the envelope confused. 

Taehyung leans forward to speak to all of them, mainly to Jungkook. “I’m only here to be a gentleman and to extend a personal invitation...” He taps the envelope in front of Jungkook. “To the biggest, most important ceremony of the year.” he smiles, clearly thrilled for the upcoming day. “My wedding.”

Taehyung stands and smooths his jacket. “See you there.” Then he turns and walks out the exit.

Jungkook, curious now, reaches for the envelope and opens it. In what must be the fanciest invitation he’s seen, Jungkook reads the contents.

Kim Taehyung & L/N Y/N request the pleasure of your company… 

Jungkook barely reads the rest because he’s already getting up. Even as his friends call his name, he’s speed walking to the exit. As he walks, his hands tremble with rage. He cannot comprehend what he just read. Taehyung must be fucking around him. Once he’s outside, he looks around for Taehyung, needing to find him to confirm that the invite is bullshit. But he doesn’t see him anywhere. Fuck, he’s already left.

He runs a hand through his hair, frustrated before rushing back into his car and slamming the door shut. The chocolate and roses sit still on the passenger seat, like they’re mocking him. After tonight, he thought things would be a little different between the two of you. He thought that he could finally admit the true feelings he’s been harbouring for you. But what a fucking fool is he? Have you been playing with him and using him all this time, while engaged to another man?

Jungkook’s rage isn’t just because of Taehyung now, no, it’s because of you too.

He starts the car and pulls onto the road quickly. He doesn’t know what he wants more – to track Taehyung down, find him and beat him to death, or drive straight to you and ask you what the fuck is this. Why is your name on that card? Why are you getting married? Why didn’t you care enough to tell him?

He chooses the second option, wanting to hear it from you. Because what if Taehyung somehow found out about Jungkook’s situation with you and is deciding to use it to get under his skin? That would make far more sense. There’s no way you’re keeping the fact that you’re getting married in three days. You would never do that to him. But why would Taehyung make this up?

As he speeds, he fumbles for his phone and presses your contact number. You pick up after a few rings. “Jungkook?”

“Where are you?’ he asks, rough and urgent.

You pause before replying. “I’m…almost at your place. Like five minutes away. Why? You sound–”

“Wait at my place.” he hangs up, not wanting to hear you say anything else.

He races through the traffic, ignoring red lights and the fact that the road is getting slippery since it’s starting to drizzle. He makes it to his penthouse in record time, as he turns into the driveway, he sees your car already parked there. He parks his car, turns it off and gets out.

When you see him getting out of his car, you get out on your own with a small smile on your face, happy to see him. But the moment you see his face, your smile vanishes. 

You straighten, a bit nervous now. “Hey,” you greet. “What’s up your ass?”

He doesn’t answer at first, he just stares at you with angry eyes before stepping closer, so close that you have to tilt your head back to look at him.

“What the fuck is your problem?” he asks with a shaky yet rough voice. “How can you be so fucking despicable?”

Your eyebrows furrow, confusion taking over your features. “Excuse me?” you ask defensively.

“You heard me.”

He takes another step closer, crowding you against the car with one of his hands bracing on the roof of it above your head. The look on his face has your heart beating way too fast in your chest. You hate how small you feel right now. You hate how badly Jungkook is intimidating you.

But you’re obviously not about to let him know the effect he’s having on you. You inch forward, staring up at him. Even though the better options are to run away and flee, or do anything instead of standing toe to toe with Jeon Jungkook when he looks like this.

“Spit it out.” you say. “What’s your problem?”

Jungkook chuckles, dark and amused, the sound absent of any humour. “Don’t act fucking dumb.”

“Watch your mouth.” you warn.

He stares at you before huffing out a laugh in disbelief. “How?” he asks, his voice cracking. “How the fuck were you able to meet with me? To sleep with me? To let me do all those things to you when you’re getting married to another man?”

Oh… your breath audibly hitches and you unconsciously take a step back. You stare at him, your mouth slightly open, trying to speak but not knowing what to say exactly, not knowing how to not make it sound bad.

You think you see hurt flash across his face, but you don’t have time to decipher the emotion because he speaks again.

“You don’t even have the decency to look surprised. You just stand there like I’m the crazy one.”

He reaches in his pocket for the squashed envelope and holds it up between two fingers, showing it to you.

“What the fuck is this?” he asks, raising his voice. “Is this true?”

You stare at the card for a second, not being able to form any words. You can’t speak, you can’t even breathe properly. Jungkook watches your expression, sees how you aren’t doing what he hoped you would – deny this. Jungkook’s heart sinks, he turns away before you can see the pained look on his face.

“Fuck,” he mutters softly, making your heart sting.

You reach out for him, your fingers brushing his sleeve. “Jungkook–”

He yanks his arm away from you before turning back to look at you furiously.

“You played me,” he yells at you. “This whole time you were engaged, while you were with me, Y/N!”

Your own anger starts to surge now. “I didn’t have a choice!”

“You did! You could’ve told me. You could’ve said something!” He takes a breath before continuing. “You could’ve fucking told me you were with another man instead of fucking around with me as well. What? Was one not enough for you?”

You cannot believe he just said that. How could he think so lowly of you? Without giving it much thought, you slap him hard. His head snaps to the side, his cheek reddening from the impact. After that he doesn’t look at you, he just keeps his eyes on the ground.

“How could you even say that? You think I wanted this? I don’t, Jungkook. I don’t want to be handed to someone like a business merger. I didn’t want my life to be planned out without getting to say what it is I truly wanted.”

Tears form and fall down your cheeks. “I hate you,” you whisper. “I hate you for making me feel this way. I hate you for acting like I hurt you when we both knew this was never supposed to be anything more than sex.”

He looks at you now. “You hate me so much, huh? Then why did you let me stay?”

“Because even though I hate you, I don’t know how to stop wanting you.”

Jungkook just stands there, processing your confession. He watches you – the woman he’s spent years pretending to hate, cry because of him. It breaks him. You wipe your tears before pushing at his chest so you can reach for your car door. Jungkook blinks. He thinks that he might’ve fucked up. He holds your wrist before you open the door.

“Let go.” you whisper.

He makes you turn, until you’re facing him. You refuse to look into his eyes, knowing he’s staring into yours.

He exhales. “I’m sorry.”

The words come out rough and sincere, making you look up at him.

“I should’ve thought about it,” he says. “That you were forced into this. I just– I saw the invitation and lost my mind.”

He caresses your wrist with his thumb. “I should’ve asked, instead of screaming at you. I’m sorry.”

You nibble on your bottom lip, all the fight draining out of you as you look up at him with glassy eyes. “I’m sorry too. I should’ve told you the second I knew.”

Jungkook sighs, cups your face and wipes your tears away. “There are three days until your wedding. We can make the most of them. We can–”

You shake your head. “I’m going to be busy. Final preparations and things.”

Jungkook curses under his breath. Then he bends down to hook an arm under your thighs and lifts you off the ground. You squeak, startled, as he holds you over his shoulder.

“Jungkook–what the fuck– put me down!”

He grins. “Nope.”

You pound lightly on his back. “People are gonna see!”

“No one is even around.”

You curse him, but giggle when he pinches your thigh and walks into his penthouse. The sound of your giggles is music to Jungkook’s ears. The sound is so sweet, so warm, he’d want to hear it for the rest of his life. You pinch his other shoulder, making him smack your ass.

He carries you through the private lobby,  past the doorman who acts as if he hasn’t noticed you two, and then into the elevator. Only when the doors close behind you, does he set you down. He backs up against the wall and leans in to kiss you carefully. When you kiss him back, he becomes hungrier. 

“I’m so sorry, baby.” he mumbles against your lips before kissing you again, gripping your hips.

When the elevator reaches your destination, he walks you backward while keeping himself glued to you, guiding you down the hallway. He bites on your bottom lip and soothes it by licking it. As he walks his hands roam all over your body, his palms slide down your ass to pull you against him so you can feel how hard he is for you. You gasp into his mouth and tug on his hair, making him growl. You both make out desperately as if you’re trying to devour each other.

He fumbles for his house keys without breaking the kiss, and tries to unlock the door, he gets it opened on the third try, then kicks it shut behind you once you’re both inside. He presses you against the wall, his hips pinning yours as he takes off your coat, leaving it on the floor. You pull his shirt over his head and leave it next to your coat. Once he’s shirtless, you rake your nails down his back, making him groan into your mouth.

He picks you up and your legs wrap around his waist, arms going around his neck. He carries you through the dark living room, not bothering about the things he knocks over as he walks to his bedroom. Once you’re in his room, he lays you down on the bed, breaking the kiss to unbuckle his belt and undo the buttons of his jeans.

You prop yourself on your elbows, breathing hard as you watch him. When he leans back in to kiss you again, you let your fingers shamelessly explore his body. Feeling his chest, his abs and going down to the V line disappearing into his boxers.

He finally breaks away from the kiss to move to your neck. He kisses, licks and sucks hard enough to leave marks. Your arch into it, tugging on his hair, before stiffening.

“ Jungkook–” 

He doesn’t stop, he just carries on sucking harder on you. You tug his hair, pulling his mouth off of you. He lifts his head to look at you with dark eyes and red lips.

“Don’t leave marks,” you whisper pleadingly. “The wedding’s in three days. People will see.”

Jungkook stares at you before scoffing. “I don’t give a fuck who sees.”

He leans down to lick on your earlobe. “In fact,” he rasps. “I want them all to see. Especially Kim fucking Taehyung.”

You grip his shoulders, liking the possessiveness in his voice.”Jungkook…”

He kisses you to cut off whatever protest you were about to make. His hands find the zipper of your dress, pulling it down so he can take the dress off you. When your dress is discarded, he unhooks your bra and discards it as well. Jungkook groans at the sight of your bare chest. Before he raves at you, he makes sure to take his boxers off, so he’s completely naked. His cock is hard and throbbing as he settles between your thighs.

“I’m gonna fuck you so good tonight,” he promises. “Make sure you know I’m the only one you’ll ever want.”

Oh, he doesn’t know how well aware you are about that. You’re well aware of the fact that he’s the only man you truly want.

Jungkook fucks you hard and good, so perfect, making it feel like the world had narrowed down to just the two of you. He watched your face the whole time as he thrusted into you deep, hitting spots inside you that have you whimpering and screaming his name

Sex with Jungkook is always phenomenal, but tonight, is something else. You’ve never had such great sex before. Tonight feels different, instead of being fueled by anger and hate, it’s something much more tender. 

After the first intense round, you and him came hard together, but it wasn’t enough. It was nowhere near enough. You went on for so many more rounds. Round three he ate you out slow and filthy, spitting on your pussy and then making out with it before tongue and finger fucking you until you were dripping down his chin. Round four, he had you riding him while he kneaded your breasts and ass as he gave the dirtiest praise. Round five he had your legs dangling over his shoulders and he fucked you so hard, you could have sworn you felt him in your stomach. Round six, he had you against the wall with your thighs wrapped around his waist and his hands under your ass as you bounced on his cock. Round seven was slow, with the two of you face to face, foreheads pressed together and fingers intertwined as he pistoned into you, never wanting to stop.

By the end you were a mess and practically crying, because it all felt too much and way too good. Jungkook was in absolute ecstasy. His own eyes were glassy, his voice hoarse and his body trembling every time you clenched around him. He kept murmuring sweet things to you, reminding you how perfect you are. Telling you that you’re his girl.

When it finally ends, he half collapses on top of you, still buried deep inside, both of you shaking, panting and covered in sweat. He kisses you again slowly before pulling out of you, causing you to both hiss at the sensitivity. You cannot move, your body feels too sore and heavy right now. But Jungkook takes care of you. He holds you in the shower, washes you and changes you into one of his shirts before changing the ruined bedsheets.

He makes you lay against his chest, until you’re sound asleep in seconds. He stays awake, caressing your hair and leaving kisses on your forehead before he slips out of bed.

· · ୨୧ · ·

You wake up around 2AM, disorientated and sore. You blink into the darkness, realising that you’re spread out in the middle of Jungkook’s ginormous bed, hogging the blanket as usual. But he isn’t here, his space beside you is cool, meaning he probably hasn’t been in it for a  while.

You frown and sit up, “Jungkook?” No answer.

You wince as you swing your legs over the side of the bed, your body aching and core throbbing. Standing up, you limp toward the hallway, seeing light coming from under the door of his office. You push it open, finding him at his desk with his phone against his ear, speaking quietly to the person on the other end. He looks up when he realises you’re in the doorway. His eyes soften instantly.

“I’ll call you back later.” he says before hanging up the call and setting his phone down.

He looks at you, feeling so proud of himself that he’s got you looking so fucked and ruined. But even still, you’re still so beautiful. He opens his arms. “Come here.”

You limp over, slow and grumpy until you’re standing between his spread thighs. He gently tugs you down so you can sit sideways, across his lap. You curl into him, looping your arms around his neck. 

“Why’re you up, hmm?” he asks roughly, near your ear. “You’re supposed to be passed out.”

You grumble against his throat. “Woke up and you weren’t there.”

He chuckles before leaving a fond kiss on top of your head. “Had to uh… sort some things out. It won’t take long.”

“It’s cold without you.” you say before yawning.

He squeezes you tighter. “I’ll be there soon.” you stay there as he rubs circles onto your back. “Go back to bed. I’ll be right there.”

You whine. “I can’t…”

He pulls back to look at your face. “Can’t?”

“Too sore.”

He bites on the inside of his cheek, trying to stifle a laugh, “yeah?”

You nod. “It hurts..”

“Your pussy sore, baby?”

You nod, almost shy. He leans in to kiss the corner of your mouth. “Want me to kiss it better?”

Your eyes widen, even though a part of you knows that his offer sounds appealing. “Oh my God, Jungkook. Can you not be pervy for one second?”

“Pervy?” he laughs. “What’s pervy about offering to make my girl feel better?”

You roll your eyes at him, but smile anyway. He kisses the tip of your nose then gently eases you off his lap. “Go to bed. I’ll be there in ten, I promise.”

You stand on shaky legs, your hands flying to his desk to hold yourself up. Jungkook holds your hips and pulls back a step, so you’re slightly bending forward over the desk. Since you’re only wearing his oversized shirt, your ass and pussy is now exposed. He lifts up the shirt more and bunches it at your waist.

Your breath hitches, “Jungkook–”

He drops down to his knees behind you, caressing your thighs. He leans in and presses the softest, most tender kiss to your pussy. You gasp, fingers tightening around the edge of the desk. He kisses your pussy again and again. He kisses your clit then at your entrance. You moan his name softly as he gently makes out with your pussy. He leaves a long kiss on you before flicking his tongue out to taste you. He leaves one more deep kiss on your clit then he finally stands up and turns you gently to face him. He cups your  face with both hands.

“Go to bed. I’m coming now.”

You give him a sleepy and grumpy look, making his chest ache. “Don’t wanna go without you.”

He sighs, defeated before scooping you up in his arms, bridal style, walking back to his room. You smile, delighted. Once in his room, he kicks the door shut behind you. He lays you down on the bed and gets in beside you. He holds around your waist and brings you flush against him, your back to his chest.

“Goodnight, Jungkook.”

“Goodnight, baby,” he says, tightening his hold on you.

Soon you’re asleep again, and Jungkook follows soon after.

────── · · ୨୧ · · ──────

The day you’ve been dreading is finally here – your wedding day. You sit completely still in front of a massive mirror in your private bridal suite. You’re all ready and looking beautiful, you make the most beautiful bride. You look too perfect. Too perfect to be this sad.

Even as the stylists do their final touches, you pay no mind to them. You’re too busy wondering why you haven't gotten any messages from Jungkook. Nothing, not a single thing. Not asking how you are, checking if you’re okay. The whole day, since early in the morning, you’ve been obsessively checking your phone, hoping for anything really.

You want to cry, want to scream, run as far away from here as you possibly can. Does he not even care a little? He was so upset with you the other night, but now he isn’t bothered. Is he seriously just accepting this? 

You just stare at your reflection, holding back your tears that are threatening to fall. There is no use crying now. You have to be strong and marry a powerful man to strengthen your family’s legacy. That is all that matters.

Taehyung isn’t a bad guy anyways. He’s handsome, patient and respectful. You’ve seen it over the weeks you’ve been spending around him. He genuinely seems pleased and happy to marry you. It’s okay. You can learn to be his wife.

The door opens and Megan walks in, looking beautiful in her bridesmaid dress. She looks at you with a very fond expression, bewildered to see her best friend all ready for her wedding.

“Hey,” she says softly, crouching so she’s eye level with you. “Breathe, okay?”

You try, you inhale shakily. She reaches up and tucks a strand of hair behind your ear.

“You don’t really have to do this, you know?” she says.

“Yeah. I do.” you reply.

Megan squeezes your hand. “I’ll always be here for you, okay? If he’s bad to you, if he ever hurts you, I’ll kill him.”

You nod gratefully. The door then opens revealing your mother, looking blissful and radiant, smiling at you. “It’s time, sweetheart.”

You stand, the stylists adjust your dress. Megan gives you a squeeze on your arm, following you outside to the limousine. The drive to the venue is short. Once the limousine arrives, Megan steps out first so she can help you out, before she goes inside to take her place with the rest of the bridesmaids, leaving alone on the steps waiting for your father.

He appears moments later, looking proud and happy. “You look beautiful,” he compliments.

You nod and when he offers you his arm, you take it. Cameras flash as you and your dad walk slowly down the aisle. At the end Taehyung stands, waiting patiently with his hands clasped in front of you. He smiles when he sees you, as if you’re everything he’s ever wanted.

You keep your gaze down as you walk toward him with dread in your stomach. When you finally reach the end, your father leaves to take his seat and you place your hands in Taehyung’s. Taehyung’s thumbs caress your fingers as looks at you with a soft and tender expression. “You’re stunning.” he whispers for you to hear.

You can’t even form a fake smile. You just stand there with your heart hammering and tears threatening to fall again.

The officiant greets everyone before he starts the official ceremony. “Kim Taehyung, do you take L/N Y/N to be your lawfully wedded wife, to have and to hold, in sickness and in health, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, until death do you part?’

Taehyung’s eyes don’t leave you. He stares at you, thinking how lucky he is to have gotten you to be his. 

“I do.” he says without hesitation.

The officiant turns to you, repeating the vows. You feel every eye in the room on you. You open your mouth but nothing comes out. There’s just silence in the entire venue before you hear a few judgemental murmurs. Taehyung caresses your knuckles with his thumb, comfortingly.

You have to do it. You’re about to say the two words when you see a red dotted light on Taehyung’s forehead, like a laser pointer, the ones that come from rifles. Your breath hitches, you blink, thinking you might be imagining it, but it’s still there when you open your eyes again.

You look around seeing another red dotted light on the temple of your father’s advisor, then another on one of Taehyung’s family members. You realise that there are dots on all of the guests present. Some of the guests notice them and soon enough panic erupts, people scream and get up, terrified.

Taehyung’s grip on your hands tighten protectively as he takes notice of what's happening. Confusion takes over his face, along with slight panic. What is this? Everything’s supposed to be safe and secured. He had his men stationed at every entrance. They should have seen this coming, but they haven’t? It doesn’t even make sense.

The doors open again and dozens of armed men walk in, so many more than the ones Taehyung had. Even if he tried to call for back, it’d be way too risky and selfish to put everyone’s lives in danger. The guests scream and some try to run, but the exits are blocked.

Taehyung yanks you behind his back, trying to shield you as his eyes dart around. Your father stands, trying to calm everyone down even though his own security scrambles around. Your father, who also usually has everything under control, is stunned and regretful. He knew he should’ve gotten guards and much more security, but the Kims assured him that they’d have everything under control.

Even through the chaos, what really causes your brain to short-circuit is Jungkook. He walks past the armed men and terrified guests, dressed in a tailored suit with a gun in his hand. His eyes are locked straight on you. 

Taehyung freezes, your heart slams in your ribcage. He walks down the aisle slowly and stops close to the altar. He raises his gun and points it at Taehyung’s chest. You gasp softly, trying to comprehend what is actually happening.

“Step away from her.” Jungkook says to him.

Taehyung doesn’t move, but his hand holding you tightens possessively. Jungkook’s eyes dart down, looking at his hand on yours before looking back at Taehyung.

“I said step away.”

Jungkook’s armed men have their own guns pointed at Taehyung and his men. Taehyung still doesn’t move away from you. Jungkook’s finger flexes on the trigger, he should just pull it and end his life. If he was anywhere else, he’d certainly do it in a heart beat. But he’s in a church and there are families around. He can’t be that horrible, especially with you right here.

Instead, he uses the bottom of the gun to hit Taehyung across his temple. The hit makes him dizzy, he lets go of your hand and falls onto one knee as blood trickles down the injured area. Taehyung doesn’t fight, he just stares up at Jungkook, definitely plotting his murder.

Jungkook doesn’t spare him another glance because his full attention is now focused on you. He thinks you’re breath-taking, something out of the best dream he could ever have. Jungkook lowers his gun and gulps, suddenly very nervous. Him, nervous. Jeon Jungkook, the man who supposedly fears nothing, is nervous

His heart is beating way too fast now, but his eyes soften when you look at him. “Hey,” he greets, sheepish.

You blink twice before letting out a soft, disbelieving laugh. “Hi..”

Jungkook steps closer to you so you can hear him whisper. “You really thought I was gonna let this wedding happen?” he asks.

“I–” you don’t finish your sentence, noticing your parents looking at the pair of you with the most horrified look.

Jungkook ignores everyone and takes your hands in his, you notice that his hands are shaking even as he holds you tightly. He looks down at your intertwined hands before looking back into your eyes.

“This wasn’t really planned,” he says softly. “I just realised that I couldn’t let you go, Y/N…And now that I’m here, looking at you” 

His eyes search yours pleadingly. “I can’t help myself.”

He looks over at the small boy standing frozen near the altar, holding the ring pillow.

“Kid,” Jungkook calls him gently. “Come here.”

The little ring bearer looks around the rings then back at Jungkook. Jungkook crouches down so he’s eye level with the kid.

“It’s okay. I’m not gonna hurt you. Just bring the rings over here.”

The boy hesitates and then walks toward Jungkook. Jungkook takes both rings in his hand before turning to the officiant. The man is shaking and pale.

“You know my full name?”

The officiant gulps before answering, “Jeon Jungkook.”

Jungkook nods. “Then start over.” he looks at you softly. “All the vows. Me and her.”

You stare at Jungkook wide-eyed, your pulse racing. Jungkook stares back at you, like you’re the only thing in the whole room.

The officiant clears his throat and speaks in a slightly shaky voice, repeating the vows he said to Taehyung, using Jungkook’s full name this time.

“I do.” Jungkook says without hesitation, his eyes never leaving yours.

You feel the way his hands shake a bit more now, the way he swallows and the way he’s looking at you as if he’s begging you to agree to this as well when the officiant says the vows to you.

You take a deep breath before answering. “I do.”

“Then by the power vested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife… you may kiss the bride.”

Jungkook cups your face with both his hands and kisses you, a bit too inappropriately for a church. He kisses you hungrily, his hand sliding behind your waist to pull you closer. You gasp into his mouth but your hand tugs onto his tie to keep close.

Megan looks at the both of you stunned, not expecting Jungkook to be mad enough to pull this off. Your mother brings her hands up to cover her mouth, mortified whereas your dad curses but doesn’t make any move, not knowing what to do.

Jungkook kisses you until your knees become weak and he has to tighten his hold on you to keep you upright. When he finally pulls back, breathing just as heavily as you are, he smirks at you. You stare at him, lips swollen, your heart in your throat. 

Even though he seems to have things under control, you’re scared for him. Scared of what your father and Taehyung could still do to him. You’re about to tell him to get out of here, but he hooks an arm under your knee and the other around your back to lift you off the ground, carrying you bridal style.

“Jungkook–’ you squeak, clinging to him.

He walks down the steps and down the aisle. His men cover him as he walks out the venue and to a tinted, black limousine. He opens the back door, settles you inside and follows after, closing the door behind him. The driver speeds off once you’re both inside.

Neither of you say anything for a moment, you just sit on the leather seat in silence with your puffy dress taking up most of the large space. Jungkook doesn’t look at you again, he just stares straight ahead with his jaw clenched. 

You have so many questions, but don’t know where to start, so for now you start with the safest one. “What’s going to happen to my family and the guests?”

Jungkook turns his head to look at you. “I told my guys not to hurt them. No one’s getting hurt… they’re just contained until we’re clear.”

“You promise?”

Jungkook nods. “Promise.”

You believe him. After that there’s silence again. You glance down, looking at the ring on his finger that matches yours and your breath hitches. Wait. what the actual fuck? You just married Jeon Jungkook. In front of hundreds of people, in front of your parents and in front of Taehyung. Your head starts to spin. Jungkook is way too quiet for your liking. You’re about to speak and bombard him with questions when you suddenly feel his hand on yours, his interlacing with yours, squeezing tightly.

You look at him, but he’s still staring out the window. But after a moment he meets your eyes, he looks all nervous again and a bit uncertain.

“What now?” he asks.

You stare at him before huffing out a small laugh. “You ruined my wedding. Stormed in with a whole army and made me marry you instead and you’re asking me ‘what now’?”

Jungkook groans in distress and drops his head back against the seat. “I know.” he rubs a hand over his face “I didn’t… plan this part.”

“You didn’t plan past kidnapping me from my own wedding?”

He winces. “When you say it like that it sounds so bad.”

You tilt your head at him. “It is bad.” you say, but Jungkook misses the playful tone in your voice. “Really bad. You knocked out the man I was meant to marry and took his place.”

Jungkook’s jaw tightens. His hands find your hips, and he lifts you, pulling you onto his lap so you’re straddling him. Your dress balloons over both of you. You brace yourself by putting your hands on his hips. He looks up at you with narrowed eyes.

“You think I should’ve left you to marry Taehyung?” he asks dangerously. “That what you’re saying? Hmm?”

You open your mouth to speak, but realise that a wrong answer might genuinely get under his skin, considering how possessively he’s holding you. You lean forward until your nose brushes against his, causing Jungkook to swallow hard. 

You can’t resist teasing him. “Maybe.” you murmur softly. “I mean… he is polite, sweet. Doesn’t climb through windows like a criminal, doesn’t point guns and people during weddings. He seems… safe.”

Jungkook’s eyes darken. His hands slide under your dress, past all the fabric until he finds the bare skin of your ass. He squeezes hard, making you gasp. He leans closer, rasping near your ear. 

“I dare you to say shit like that again.”

You shiver at his tone. His fingers dig in deeper, kneading your skin.

“Tell me, would you have preferred to marry him? To be Kim Taehyung’s wife?” he repeats.

You can tell he’s jealous by the way his chest rises and falls quickly. You bite your lip, holding back a smile. You shake your head, “no.”

His grip loosens a bit. Your lips brush against the corner of his mouth when you speak, “I wouldn’t have preferred it.”

“Good answer,” he mutters. “Very good fucking answer.”

You huff out a laugh, glancing down at your ring finger, seeing the engagement ring Taehyung had gotten for you. It’s flawless, so beautiful with a large diamond. It must have cost him a fortune.

“Taehyung’s got good taste though.” you, teasing him once again.

Jungkook’s eyes flicker to the ring on your finger then back to your face. He hooks a finger under the band, pulling the ring off, it comes off your finger too easily, like it was never meant to be there in the first place. He opens the window with his other ring and tosses the ring out onto the street. 

You gasp in genuine shock. “Jungkook!”

He grabs your chin, tilts your face toward his and kisses you hard, swallowing your protest.

“I’ll get you a better one,” he promises. “Bigger. Prettier. A ring that signifies you’re mine.”

You stare at him with a fond expression. “You’re crazy.”

He hums before kissing you again, but deeper now. He pulls you even closer against him to make out with you as the limo continues to drive. 

You pull away from the kiss to curiously ask, “so where exactly are we going?’”

“My penthouse.” he says simply.

You make a funny face, making him tilt his head at you.

“What’s with that face? What’s wrong with my penthouse?” he asks, concerned.

You reach up and start playing with the ends of his hair. “Nothing’s wrong with it. It’s just… you know…” you shrug your shoulders, pretending to think. “Normal newlyweds usually celebrate their wedding day by going somewhere nice. Somewhere special.” you pause, letting the insinuation gang between you. “A honeymoon, maybe.”

Jungkook goes still, getting it now. His lips twitch into a small smile. 

“You want a honeymoon?” he asks.

You nod, a bit shy. Jungkook gaze drops to your lips for a second and then back up to your eyes. But then he sighs tiredly.

“I’ve got things to do,” he says reluctantly. “ People to handle… you know how it is.”

Your eyes narrow at him, then you poke him hard in the ribs. 

Jungkook yelps in surprise. “Ow–what the hell–”

You poke him again, harder. “How the hell,” you hiss, “can you be busy when you just got married to me? What the hell could be so important that you can’t take your brand new wife somewhere nice?”

You’re about to keep yelling at him when he cuts you off. “Okay.”

The word comes out fast. 

“Okay, I’m sorry.”

He looks chastised. Jeon Jungkook looks like a boy who’s just been scolded and knows he deserved it.

“I’ll take you wherever you wanna go,” he says earnestly. “I’ll book the best place. Whatever you want. We’ll fly out ASAP– tonight if I can make it happen, tomorrow morning at the latest.”

You smile at him, extremely pleased. You reward him by leaving a sweet peck on his lips and telling him that he’s a good boy. Jungkook huffs out a laugh, admiring you while thinking to himself that this is about to be really interesting…

────── · · ୨୧ · · ──────

You had been buzzing with excitement the entire ride to the airport, clinging to Jungkook, very pleased how quick he had found the perfect place and booked in record speed. The second you two were in the jet, you climbed straight onto his lap, despite you both still being in the wedding attire.

You had kissed him deep and passionately, tugging onto his hair and slowly grinding against him causing him to groan into your mouth as his slid under your dress and into your underwear to bury his fingers deep inside you, finger-fucking you until you were coming for him. After that he carried you to the room toward the end of the jet, not caring about the staff on board.

Now you’re both in the room with the door closed, horny and desperate for each other as usual. His jacket has been discarded, his tie loosened and hanging around his neck, his pants and boxers are down enough so his hard cock is free and glistening with you…

He’s fucking you with deep thrusts that make you jerk forward into the pillows. He has one hand braced on your hip and the other gripping the back of your neck. You whimper into the pillows, trying to talk between your pretty sounds.

“J–Jungkook– ah–”

Jungkook had lost control over himself the second he had sunk into you. He’s too overwhelmed. Fuck, he married you. He actually married you. The thought keeps playing in his head. He’s deep inside his wife. His wife. The realisation makes him thrust into you harder. You scream his name now, causing him to freeze, still buried deep inside you while breathing hard against your shoulder.

“Yes, baby?” 

Despite your face being pressed into the soft pillow, you manage to turn your head to speak. “Wouldn’t it be better… if you took my dress off?” you pant.

Jungkook groans, not a fan of the idea. He’s no idea why, but for some reason fucking you in your wedding dress is such a huge turn on for him.

“I was enjoying the sight so much,” he admits. “Fucking my wife while she’s still in her wedding dress. Looks so good.”

You let out a breathy laugh, but it immediately turns into a moan when Jungkook thrusts into you a bit more. “I’m hot,” you whine. “The dress is too much. I’m sweating.”

He sighs. “Fine.”

He pulls out, causing you both to hiss at the emptiness. You lay onto your back and Jungkook hovers over you. He leans down to kiss you, putting his hand under your back so you can arch into him, allowing him to find the dress’s zipper. The top half of the dress is tight, shaping your cleavage. It’s the very least of his concerns right now, but this was for Taehyung… he might’ve been the one to take it off for you. The thought of that pisses Jungkook off more than anything – the thought of you being with anyone else who isn’t him.

He pulls the zipper down and as he peels the dress off you, he kisses your exposed skin. You aren’t wearing a bra, since the dress doesn’t need one, Jungkook kisses and sucks on your exposed chest. He gets the rest of the dress off with your help, so now you’re only in a panty.

Jungkook pulls away and sits on his heels, smirking down at you as he unbuttons his shirt. You bite your lip, staring at him… staring at your husband. Oh, he’s got to be the finest man to exist. You don’t have time to really dwell on that because he comes back down to take one of your nipples into his mouth. While sucking onto you, his hand goes down to push your panty down to your ankles, so you can kick it off so he can rub your clit. You moan, raking your nails down his back and shoulders. Jungkook hisses at the sting, but it only makes him harder.

He stops rubbing your clit to wrap a hand around himself, stroking himself a few times before rubbing the tip of his cock against your entrance eagerly. He groans deeply and curses under his breath.

“F–fuck, Y/N,” He pants.

He keeps rubbing himself  against you, while leaving sloppy bites and kisses on your neck. He shakes and trembles with restraint. You wonder what’s going on in his head. He shakes a bit more as he enters you, pushing inside until he’s deep inside you. Once he’s in, he just stays there unmoving with his forehead pressed to yours.

For the first time ever, you use the nickname you’ve been dying to call him. “Kookie?”

He hums, lost in ecstasy, pulling to look at you hazily with glassy eyes. You wrap your arms around his neck to pull him closer.

“Are you okay?” you ask softly.

He pecks your lips once, then twice, then once again, desperately. 

“I’m okay.” he murmurs against your mouth.

You search his face. “Why are you shaking?”

He stays quiet but rocks his hips into you before answering your question. “Because I can’t believe you’re my wife.”

You moan into his neck. “Jeon–” you whimper.

He thrusts into you more passionately now, burying himself to the brim while biting marks onto your neck, one that he knows will stay for a very long time.

“You’re a Jeon now too.” he growls against your ear, possessively.

He grabs your jaw and tilts your head so you have no choice but to look at him. His other hand pins both of yours above your head, holding you against the mattress as he relentlessly thrusts into you while keeping eye contact with you the entire time.

“You’re Mrs Jeon now,” he says. “Mine. You’re my wife.”

He watches your face the whole time, your parted lips, your eyes almost rolling back because of the pleasure. He presses his thumb against your bottom lip, pushing it inside your mouth. You moan around it, eyes fluttering shut as he fucks you. After that, it doesn’t take long for the both of you to come.

When he calms down a bit, he props himself on his elbow so he can look at you. You’re staring back at him, beautifully ruined. He reaches out and brushes a damp strand of hair from your eyes, the urge to kiss your pretty lips almost overwhelming.

“I’d do more,”he says. “So much more. But I want you well rested for our trip. We’re gonna have a lot of fun.”

You hum, content and sleepy. Jungkook nods and lays down next to you, sliding an arm around your waist to pull you against his chest. He stares up at the ceiling while absent mindedly caressing your back.

After a while of silence, you push yourself up so that you’re hovering over him. You look down at him thoughtfully. “Why did you do it?” you ask softly. “Why did you take Taehyung’s place and marry me?

Jungkook gulps and looks away from your eyes, looking at the ceiling, at the wall, at anywhere but your eyes.

“I knew you didn’t want to marry him. I was trying to save you, that’s all.”

You smile, knowing he’s not telling you the true reason. “You accused me of being jealous of your girl at that event, but you were so jealous of Taehyung that you ruined my whole wedding and took his place instead.”

Jungkook scoffs defensively. “I wasn’t jealous.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Really?” 

He sighs dramatically, not really being able to lie to you. “...Fine. Yes, I was jealous. But jealousy wasn’t all that drove me to marry you.”

You tilt your head. “What was it then?”

Jungkook groans again, running a hand through his messy, damp hair. “Don’t make me say it.”

“I want to hear it.” you say.

He sighs again, scraping up all of the courage he can at this moment. “I’m in love with you.” he says in the softest voice you’ve heard him speak. “That’s why I did it. I love you.”

Your breath hitches and your heart flutters like crazy. But due to your endless love of teasing Jungkook, you don’t give him the expected reaction. Instead, you turn away from him and lay onto your side.

“Hm. Okay.” you say.

Jungkook’s face falls. Confusion and panic take over his features. He rolls you onto your back, so he’s hovering over you now.

“Say it back.” he demands desperately.

“No.”

“Say it.” he pleads.

“What if I don’t feel the same way?” you ask teasingly.

Hurt takes over his features now, so you can’t keep it up. You reach up to cup his jaw, caressing his cheeks.

“I’m only joking,” you whisper sincerely. “I feel the same about you. I love you too.”

Jungkook exhales, relieved. He closes his eyes and breathes you in. “You play too much, baby.” he mutters.

You smile and pull him down for another kiss he eagerly responds to

hi pookies, i hope you've enjoyed this one!! . i worked so hard on both parts. for now, it's my favourite story that i've written. so please do let me know your thoughts!!

also here's my patreon, if you guys would like to support me. one day i will be posting a oneshot or two about this fic. (about jk and yn in the future)

[inthelow]

── DROP DEAD | kim seokjin.

pairing: fashion pr! fem reader x idol! kim seokjin

summary: It all started as a silly joke between friends. One harmless unimportant conversation, one name thrown into the mix, and one boring late-night search that should’ve ended after a single Instagram post and not in thousand of hours stalking a famous idol. Looking back, maybe your feminine intuition already knew that the story wouldn’t stop there… because once Kim Seokjin crossed your mind, it seemed impossible for the universe to keep him out of your life.

genre: (fluff). acquaintances—friends-to-lovers. romantic comedy. idol au. lovesick idiots.

warning! ── reader is obsessively and stupidly in love makes you want to puke. mentions of stalking. mentions of anxiety. nonchalant jin era but not really. he’s very shy and cute. a real man. this is very much inspired by candace and jeremy’s relationship (phineas & ferb) — literally like she will gaslight you into thinking he doesn’t like her.

author’s note: okay so i had to delete the smut part because when i paste the story here i realized i reached the limit and i didn’t want to make it a two-part one shot (i do love the smut and the original final i wrote so if u ever wanna see it lmk) i hope u still fuck with it tho i’ve been really excited about this one and i really like how it turned out without the smut too so i hope u enjoy it:( HI guys let’s pretend is the first of august okay?? happy first of the month yay!!!!!!

word count: +20k words.

──── pretty sad for a girl so in love (series)

The first thing you noticed when you stepped into Mina’s apartment was that she had definitely invited more people than her dining table could fit.

There were already six pairs of shoes scattered by the front door, music playing quietly from a speaker somewhere in the living room, and at least three different conversations happening before you’d even taken your jacket off. Someone waved at you from the kitchen, another person you vaguely recognized from college smiled in your direction before going back to whatever story they were telling, and the smell of garlic and takeout filled the apartment.

“She’s here!” Mina called the second she spotted you. She was balancing two bowls in her hands, somehow managing not to drop either of them as she crossed the room. “Finally. I was about to tell everyone you bailed.”

“I said I’d be late,” you laughed, slipping your shoes off. “Some people have actual jobs.”

“So do I.”

“Then act like it,” you joked harshly. “I have you at 10am on a Wednesday asking me to bring ice cream. Sounds very unemployed to me.”

“It was an emergency.” You raised an eyebrow. “The convenience store only had one tub left and you know I need to host perfect hangouts, okay?”

“Yeah, I know you’re a control freak.”

“See?” Mina pointed at you before turning to the rest of the room. “She gets me.”

Haeun looked up from where she was sitting on the floor beside the coffee table, her legs crossed underneath her. “No,” she said, completely unimpressed. “She enables you.”

You laughed as you walked over, dropping onto the empty spot beside her before kissing her cheek.

“That’s what real love means,” Mina said like it was obvious.

“It’s definitely not what it means.” Haeun rolled her yes. Mina disappeared back into the kitchen, already distracted by someone asking where the serving spoons were. “You came empty-handed?” Haeun asked.

“I brought dessert.”

“Where?”

You reached into your tote bag and pulled out two tubs of ice cream, probably already melted. Mina immediately reappeared. “I KNEW I invited the right people.”

“You invited everyone,” you looked around to your friends who all raised an eyebrow. “What? It’s true, I love you guys but really I can’t believe everyone agreed to hangout a Wednesday night. Do you guys need a job or a reference? I can help you with…”

“This is why we leave early when you come to the hangouts.”

“Hey!”

“Agreed.”

An hour later, dinner had turned int a bit of a mess. Half the food and dessert were empty and every plate on the table was being shared whether the person who ordered it liked it or not. You’d barely managed to keep more than three fries on your own plate before Mina reached over to steal another one. She had always being a pain in the ass, specially the days you met her in college together with Haeun— at least the one was more generous and didn’t steal your fries.

“I don’t know why I even bother ordering food for myself.”

“You don’t,” she answered easily, popping the fry into her mouth. “You order food for the community.”

“The community can buy its own.”

“It could.”

“It should.”

“It won’t.” Haeun smiled into her drink. “You promised once you’d became rich you were always going to invite dinner.”

“I’m not rich, even Mina makes more money than me.”

“Doubtful,” your friend smiled.

“You manage the biggest singer in Korea right now, I know you’re making bank.” You pointed at her accusatory.

“I’ve never said I wasn’t making bank,” she said immediately. “I’m just saying probably not as much as you. You had been making big deals later.”

“That’s true,” Jiho said— another close friends of yours— suddenly everyone was having interest in the same conversation. He leaned back in his chair, “how’s work? The glamorous fashion world.”

You laughed. “Doesn’t feel glamorous at all. I spend more time looking at calendars than clothes.”

“What were you working on this week?” Haeun asked.

“A campaign for a luxury brand. I’m working now with some actor I’m not legally allowed to tell yet.”

Mina immediately leaned forward with interest. “I love hearing about celebrity gossip.”

“You literally work for IU. That’s the biggest it can get.”

“She’s too nice, she never reveals anything,” she pouted.

“Maybe because there’s no actual gossip going around,” you tried again.

“You work with more celebrities than me you have to have some.” She insisted.

“I work with their managers,” you corrected. “Literally I’m mostly coordinating schedules between the brand, photographers, stylists, management… making sure everyone’s available on the same day.”

“That sounds significantly less fun.” One of your other friends said. “I thought you just picked pretty outfits.”

“I wish.”

“You don’t even get free clothes?”

“I get emails.”

“I’d rather have the clothes.”

“So would I,” you sighed dramatically and everyone laughed. “But it’s still fun,” you admitted after a moment. “I get to see campaigns come together from the beginning, and when everything actually works it’s really satisfying.”

“You always sound happier talking about work than dating,” Mina pointed at you.

“Maybe because work doesn’t suck as much as dating,” you stated.

“I don’t know what that says about you.”

“Probably something concerning,” Haeun nodded.

Before you could answer, Soomin let out the longest sigh you’d ever heard. “Speaking of dating…” Everyone turned toward her. “I finally went out with that guy from Hinge.”

“The accountant?”

“The accountant.”

“And?”

Soomin stared into the distance for a second. “I don’t think he asked me a single question.”

Haeun frowned. “What do you mean?”

“I mean he spent an hour talking about himself.”

“That’s annoying,” you commented.

“He showed me a spreadsheet.”

There was a beat of silence. “A what?”

“A spreadsheet.”

“For work?”

“No. He tracks every restaurant he’s ever been to.”

Mina blinked and you tried not to laughed with Haeun “Actually…”

“No,” Soomin interrupted before she could finish. “Don’t even start.”

“I was going to say that’s kind of organized.”

“There was a section for him to rate the lighting!” she exclaimed frustrated.

“…Never mind.”

“I spent forty minutes pretending I cared about overhead lighting.”

You couldn’t help laughing. “I’m sorry.”

“No, you’re not.”

“It’s a good story.”

The table dissolved into laughter, and once everyone had recovered, the stories started coming one after another. One date had ended with someone accidentally running into their ex halfway through dinner. Another had spent the entire evening talking about cryptocurrency. Someone else admitted they’d been ghosted after what they thought had been the most amazing date ever.

“It feels impossible lately,” Soomin complained, reaching for another slice of pizza. “Either they’re creepy, they just wanna fuck or they’re trying to use you to make their ex jealous.”

“Usually all at once,” Jiho added.

“What about you?” Mina looked over at you. “Any exciting romantic developments?”

You looked up from your plate. “Not really.”

“None?”

“I’ve been on exactly one date this year.”

“The guy from the bookstore?” You nodded. “What happened to him?”

“He was nice but… I don’t know,” you thought about it for a second before shrugging. “He didn’t made me nervous or excited. I guess… he just wasn’t my person.”

“How do you know after one date?” Jiho asked.

“I don’t know.” You smiled a little. “You can usually tell if you actually want to see someone again and I didn’t.”

“So you’re taking a break from dating?” Haeun asked.

“I think so.”

“For how long?” she asked curious.

“I don’t know,” you said simply.

Mina rested her chin in her hand. “I’ve been saying this for years.”

“What?”

“You expect too much for a first date.”

You laughed. “I really don’t.”

“You do.”

“I have standards.”

“You have requirements.”

“I have normal requirements.”

“You eliminated a guy because you thought he was checking his reflection in every window you walked past.”

“He was.”

“You eliminated another one because he called every woman ‘female.’”

“That one was justified.”

“Okay, fair.” She frowned. “But one time you left a date because he was too perfect.”

“He was. He could definitely do better,” you nodded thoughtful.

“You know what?” Haeun grinned. “I support you for that one.”

“But,” Mina continued, refusing to give up, “my point still stands.”

“What point?”

“You’ve built this perfect imaginary man in your head,” she pointed at you. “After your ex boyfriend you’ve just put excuses for every new guy.”

“Not true and I really haven’t.”

“You have.”

“I just don’t want to date someone for the sake of dating.” The room quieted a little, everyone listening now. “I’ve done that before,” you admitted. “You convince yourself maybe the attraction will grow or maybe you’ll eventually have more in common, and then three months later you’re wondering why you stayed. I’d rather be single than settle because everyone thinks I should have a boyfriend.”

Haeun nodded. “I actually agree.”

“You always agree with her.”

“Because she’s right.”

Mina rolled her eyes dramatically. “Fine. I support healthy standards.”

“Thank you.”

“But you need to be a little more open,” she accused you.

“Sure, I’ll try.” You said without making it a big deal.

“I can help if you want me to. I can put you out with some friends.” Her smile started getting bigger.

You already knew where this was going. “No, thank you.”

“I absolutely can. I’m great at matchmaking...”

“Mina.”

“I know a lot of people who would be perfect for you,” she insisted.

“You know people who you think would be perfect for me.” You corrected her.

She ignored you completely. “What about my coworker?”

“No.”

“My cousin’s friend?”

“No.”

“The photographer I met last month?”

“You’ve run out of people already?”

She frowned, pretending to think. “Hm…” Then her face lit up. “Oh.”

“No.”

“What about Jin?”

You looked at her blankly. “…Which Jin?”

“Kim Seokjin.”

You stared at her for a second before laughing. “The idol?”

“Yes, the idol.” She said obvious.

“Mina,” you looked at her incredulous.

“What?”

“I’ve said hello to him, like… three times.”

“So you’ve met,” Mina took it as a win.

“I’ve greeted him.”

“Close enough.”

“It’s really not.”

“You literally worked with Taehyung,” she reminded you.

“I work with brands that hire Taehyung,” you corrected. “Those are two very different things.”

“But you’ve met Jin.”

“I’ve been in the same room as Seokjin.”

“And?”

“And that’s it.”

Haeun smiled, shaking her head. “I don’t even think he’s spoken more than five words to her.”

“He made me show him where the coffee station was once,” you told her. “And I think one time I probably bumped into him accidentally.”

“There you go,” Mina replied triumphantly. “You’re basically family.”

You laughed so hard you nearly spilled your drink. “I don’t even think he’d recognize me if we crossed paths tomorrow.”

“He might.”

“He absolutely would not.”

Mina insisted. “He’s a really nice person. Very shy but I know he would be perfect for you!. Ugh, I need to find an excuse to invite him to some hangouts now…”

“I’ll pass. Thank you.”

Your friend sighed dramatically. Like she had lost the war. “Fine. I tried.”

“You really did,” you said sarcastically.

“I’ll keep looking.”

“Please don’t.”

“Too late.”

By the time someone suggested opening another bottle of wine, the conversation had already moved on to something completely different. Jin’s name disappeared from the room as quickly as it’d come up, buried beneath complaints about work, arguments over which movie they should watch after finishing the dinner and if the next hangout would be this same month or the next one, trying to match schedules.

You didn’t think about him again that night. There wasn’t any reason to. After all, he was just someone you’d crossed paths with a handful of times through work— a polite face attached to brief greetings backstage or at brand events before you both disappeared back into your own schedules. The joke was exactly that: a joke. One of dozens exchanged over dinner that evening, forgotten almost as quickly as it had been said.

At least, that’s what you thought then.

——————————

Your apartment was completely dead by the time you arrived there. You dropped your keys into the ceramic bowl by the front door out of habit, kicked your shoes off somewhere behind you, and stood there for a second, stretching and feeling the weight of the day finally catching up to your body. After spending the last five hours surrounded by people talking over one another, laughing across the dinner table and arguing about movies nobody was actually going to watch, your own apartment almost felt unnaturally still. But you weren’t tired yet. Comfortably full, maybe. Socially exhausted definitely.

You changed into an oversized T-shirt, took your makeup off, tied your hair into a messy bun and wandered into the kitchen for a glass of water, your phone tucked underneath one arm. There were already three new messages in the group chat but you were too lazy to check, maybe it was just Mina planning the next hangout already.

By the time you crawled into bed, the digital clock on your nightstand had already slipped past one in the morning. You should definitely needed to sleep, however, sleep didn’t seem nearly as interested in finding you. You rolled onto your back, staring at the ceiling, thinking about some words that didn’t left your mind the entirely night after the conversation. Mina wasn’t entirely wrong, probably that was the most annoying part.

You really hadn’t been trying. For a while, you’d blamed it on work. Luxury fashion PR wasn’t exactly a nine-to-five job, especially once campaign season picked up. Some weeks you barely had time to eat lunch before someone called to tell you a fitting had been moved, a photographer had cancelled, or a celebrity’s schedule had changed for the third time in two days. It was easier to tell people you were busy than admit dating had quietly slipped to the bottom of your priorities.

But work wasn’t the real reason… or at least not completely. If you were honest with yourself, it had started long before your calendar became impossible. Your last relationship had ended almost two years ago. It didn’t really end in a dramatic way, nobody cheated and nobody threw plates across the room or begged anyone to stay, it had simply stopped working. Between different priorities, missed conversations and the slow realization spending time with someone was actually a big part for it to work, the relationship had quietly unraveled until one day you both admitted what you’d been avoiding for months.

Of course it hurt but the worst part hadn’t even been the breakup itself, it was everything that came after. Friends insisting you “just needed to get back out there,” blind dates, dating apps, conversations that felt more like interviews than actual conversations. Men who spent the entire evening talking about themselves. Men who seemed offended that you actually liked your career. Men who confused confidence with arrogance… Eventually, somewhere along the way, you’d stopped opening the apps, stopped agreeing to dates, stopped looking altogether.

It wasn’t that you’d decided to stay single forever. You’d simply gotten… comfortable in your own world, comfortable with your own routines, comfortable with dinners by yourself, comfortable enough that dating started feeling like another task to squeeze into an already busy week…. But Mina had been right, maybe you had checked out.

You reached for your phone on the bedside table and almost without thinking, you opened Hinge. Your profile was still there with the same pictures of months ago, the same prompts and a handful of likes waiting from weeks ago. You stared at the screen for maybe ten seconds before quietly laughing to yourself.

“Fuck no.” You closed the app.

You turned your phone over in your hands before another thought floated back into your head.

What about Jin? You actually laughed out loud this time. Mina’s ridiculous, you thought.

Of all the people she could’ve named… It wasn’t even that the suggestion was impossible— although it obviously was— it was just… random. You’d met him before… technically. The same way you’d “met” dozens of celebrities through work. A greeting backstage before a fitting, a polite nod while waiting for a meeting room to open, someone introducing you in passing before both of you were immediately pulled in opposite directions.

If you passed each other on the street tomorrow, you doubted he’d recognize you. You weren’t even sure you’d recognize him immediately either. Celebrities always looked different once they were standing three feet away instead of behind professionally edited photos.

Still… Why Seokjin?

You frowned slightly, unlocking your phone again. Purely out of curiosity you typed his name into Instagram. His account appeared immediately. Millions of followers and likes. Well, you couldn’t exactly say Mina had terrible taste. He was ridiculously handsome, that much was obvious.

You spent a minute absentmindedly scrolling through his feed, expecting to lose interest almost immediately. Instead… there wasn’t actually that much to see. A few campaign photos, brand collaborations, professional shoots, some travel and some silly pictures on tour. He looked exactly how you’d expect someone like Kim Seokjin to look. Polished, expensive and almost intimidatingly good-looking.

You were just about to close the app when your thumb drifted to the side to see his tagged posts. There were dozens of pictures and videos he was tagged from fans… One clip couldn’t hurt. It was only twenty seconds. A compilation of him throwing flower petals over him in award shows. You chuckled at his confidence and attitude, he was pretty funny.

“Cute,” you mumbled before catching yourself.

No, not cure. Funny. Endearing. There was a difference.

You scrolled a bit and another reel played. One that looked like it came from some variety show. He was laughing so hard he had both hands over his face, shoulders shaking as someone off-camera kept teasing him about something you didn’t understand. But he was so red and he laughed so loud it was really annoying.

You smiled. Then watched another… and another. One where he was stubbornly refusing to lose a game. One edit where he was winning a game and looked really hot. Another where he somehow managed to make everyone around him laugh within thirty seconds. One where he was confidently explaining something before immediately proving himself wrong.

Your eyebrows lifted slightly. He was… really funny. Not in the polished, media-trained way celebrities sometimes were, just naturally funny, comfortable in his own skin, a little too dramatic. The kind of person who didn’t seem embarrassed about laughing at himself or do something cringe just for the fun of it.

Later you were lying in the exact same position, phone balanced against your knees, smiling at a man you’d exchanged maybe three greetings with over the course of your entire career. You hadn’t even noticed how much time had passed until Instagram reminded you you’d reached your three hours of the day. Your thumb hovered over the screen.

“Holy shit.” You’ve spent three hours watching videos of Kim Seokjin. You lowered the phone onto your chest and stared at the ceiling. “Ah, fuck.”

Now you understood why Mina had said it. Not because he was famous or because he was objectively attractive. From the little you’d seen… He actually seemed exactly like the kind of person you would’ve liked if he’d been anyone else.

Shit.

——————————

The next time you saw Seokjin was not really your doing. It was, for once, the universe deciding to be surprisingly generous. Well… generous was probably a strong word. Convenient, that sounded way better.

The invitation had landed in your inbox earlier that week, forwarded by one of the stylists your agency worked with every few months. It wasn’t a launch party or a brand event, nothing that required speeches, photographers or carefully prepared guest lists. Someone had wrapped up a successful campaign, someone else had just gotten back from a tour overseas, and somewhere along the way the excuse had turned into come over, bring whoever you want and let’s have a drink. Half the people attending knew each other from the entertainment industry, the other half from fashion, and after working in luxury fashion PR for long enough, you’d realized the two worlds overlapped far more than most people imagined. So you decided to attend for once since Mina was going too.

By the time you arrived, the apartment was already buzzing with conversation. Music drifted through the open balcony doors, low enough that people didn’t have to raise their voices over it, and every surface seemed to be covered in bottles, half-empty glasses and small plates of food that everyone kept picking at without remembering what was theirs. Someone from a magazine you occasionally coordinated shoots with greeted you on your way in, another stylist pulled you into a quick conversation about Paris Fashion Week before disappearing again, and not five minutes later you spotted Mina standing near the dining table with a wine glass in one hand, laughing at something a singer beside her had just said.

She noticed you almost immediately. “There you are,” she said, reaching over to squeeze your arm as you walked up. “I was starting to think you weren’t coming.”

“I almost didn’t,” you admitted with a smile. “I spent all afternoon fixing a schedule because one actor suddenly decided he’d rather shoot in Milan than Seoul.”

Mina winced sympathetically. “Please don’t remind me what was working with actors. I still have PTSD.”

“You’re lucky you got yourself a nice boss.”

“Still stressful sometimes,” she grimaced. “Today I’ve answered twenty-five phone calls since six o’clock.”

“You counted?” You raised your eyebrows, not really surprised.

“I was angry enough to.”

You laughed, taking the glass she silently offered you.“Everything okay?”

She nodded. “Fine now. Everyone was losing their minds because they thought she wasn’t making it in time to a big event after a rehearsal fit. Bitch, I did her schedule, she was going to make it on time.”

“Only took twenty calls.”

“Twenty-five,” she corrected, like it was something it needed to be remembered.

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” she sighed dramatically before taking a sip of her wine. “I’ve accepted that this is my life now.”

The two of you stayed where you were for a while, talking about work the way people only could when they understood each other’s jobs. Mina complained about artists changing their minds at the last minute, you complained about luxury brands insisting every campaign was somehow the most important project of the year, and somewhere between those conversations someone joined in to tell a story about a photographer who’d accidentally shown up to a shoot in the wrong country. You weren’t sure if he was joking. With this industry, it was genuinely difficult to tell.

At some point your conversation broke apart naturally as people wandered off into smaller groups, and you found yourself listening more than talking, occasionally adding a comment before someone else picked up the thread. It was comfortable, you liked those kinds of gatherings, nobody expected anything from anyone. People drifted between conversations, disappeared onto the balcony, returned twenty minutes later carrying dessert as if they’d never left. People knew each other.

You were halfway through listening to a stylist passionately explain why silver jewelry was making a comeback when the front door opened again. Someone greeted the newcomers loudly enough for half the apartment to glance over.

You looked up too. And there he was.

Kim Seokjin stepped inside with an easy smile, greeting the host before taking a moment to shake hands with someone near the entrance. He looked almost exactly the way you remembered him from the handful of events where your paths had crossed over the years, except this time your brain supplied far more information than it had any right to.

He really giggles like that. The thought appeared before you could stop it… But he really did.

The laugh you’d heard through your phone speakers more times that you would ever admit out loud, it was unmistakable, warm enough that it carried across the room for being too loud. It was strangely disorienting, recognizing something so familiar about someone you barely knew.

You looked away almost immediately. Not because you’d been caught staring— he hadn’t even looked in your direction yet— but because it suddenly felt ridiculous that your first instinct had been to compare him to internet clips.

Get a grip.

You took another sip of your drink and forced yourself back into the conversation happening beside you, although it lasted all of three minutes before your attention wandered again. It wasn’t intentional, not that you would admit anyway. You simply… noticed him more this time.

You noticed that he never interrupted people when they were speaking, even if they were telling a story that was clearly going nowhere. That when someone walked over to say hello, he turned his whole body toward them instead of trying to keep talking to someone else at the same time. Every now and then someone would laugh at something he’d said, but he never seemed interested in becoming the center of the room. If anything, he looked happiest standing slightly off to the side, listening.

It was odd. A month ago you probably wouldn’t have registered any of it. Now every little habit felt strangely familiar, as though you’d skipped several chapters of a book and were only now catching up.

You were still mentally scolding yourself for finding this amusing when someone asked if anybody wanted another drink. You looked down at your empty glass. “I’ll grab one,” you said.

The kitchen was thankfully quieter than the living room. Someone had left the balcony door open just enough for the cool evening air to drift inside, carrying the faint sound of conversation from outside. You set your empty glass beside the sink and reached for one of the bottles lined up along the counter, only realizing someone else was doing exactly the same thing from the opposite side. Your hands bumping into each other a little hard.

You looked up. “So you finally find you way to the beverage station without any help?.”

The words slipped out before you thought about them. For a second Jin looked almost confused. Then recognition settled across his face and he laughed softly as he blushed slightly.

“I did it all alone.”

“So I’m not imagining it.”

“No,” he smiled, reaching for another glass. “The fist time was over coffee, right?.”

“Oh.” You pointed at him. “You asked where it was and then your manager made me guide you to the station.”

“Yeah… that happened.” He chuckled nervously.

“Don’t worry, I know the importance of coffee in the morning.”

Jin nodded in complete agreement. “Thank you. Coffee is the most important thing to survive.”

“And now alcohol. We’re upgrading.” You joked and he smiled.

For a brief moment the conversation settled into a comfortable silence while the two of you poured your drinks. It wasn’t really awkward, just a bit weird.

He glanced toward the living room before looking back at you. “You still work at Étoile?”

The question caught you pleasantly off guard. He knew that?. Maybe he remembered you working with Taehyung a lot. “I do.”

“I wasn’t sure. I thought I recognized you at the Cartier event a few months ago. I wasn’t completely certain.”

“I spend most of those events trying not to look stressed so I probably had a completely different face.” You said truthfully and Jin chuckled.

“You hide it well.”

“I absolutely don’t.”

“You do.”

“I promise I don’t.”

“I’ve only ever seen you looking very calm.”

You laughed. “That’s because if I panic, everyone else starts panicking.”

“So you’re secretly panicking,” he hummed.

“Almost constantly.”

“That actually makes me feel better. I thought everyone in fashion had their lives together.”

You stared at him for a second before bursting into laughter. “I’m sorry… Who told you that?”

“A lot of people?” He obviously lied.

“They lied.”

“So none of you know what you’re doing?” He asked jokingly.

“Oh, we know what we’re doing.” You leaned against the counter with an amused smile. “We just happen to be doing it while answering twelve phone calls, rewriting schedules and praying nobody changes their outfit thirty minutes before a campaign. So we are always panicking while making everything work.”

“That sounds exhausting.”

“It is.”

“What keeps you there then?”

You thought about it for a moment. “I like watching everything come together.”

“The campaigns?”

You nodded. “People only ever see the finished product, but there are so many people behind them. Stylists, assistants, lighting teams, producers, makeup artists… I like being part of that.” He listened without interrupting, his attention resting entirely on you in a way that felt unexpectedly rare. “I don’t know,” you continued with a small shrug. “When something goes well, it’s satisfying.”

“I get that.”

“I would thought so,” you smiled slightly. “Fashion it’s a performance so you should know about that.”

He smiled at that. You liked his smile. “I do. And I know the feeling when people assume performing is only the two hours you’re on stage.”

“But it isn’t.”

He shook his head. “It’s months before that. Rehearsals, meetings, recordings, planning… by the time people finally see something, you’ve been living with it for a long time.”

“I never really thought about it like that,” you hummed.

“I guess we’re both in jobs where everyone only notices the finished product.”

You smiled. “I like that.”

“So do I.”

The conversation wandered from there almost effortlessly. Somehow it turned into travel after he mentioned how often work had him living out of a suitcase, which became a debate over whether airport coffee was actually drinkable, which then led to food recommendations in different cities and also about what was the best dessert to have after a big dinner, and before either of you realized it, the glasses you’d filled at the beginning of the conversation were nearly empty.

You found yourself laughing far more than you’d expected to. Not because he was trying particularly hard to be funny, but because talking to him felt very easy and comfortable.

He listened just as much as he spoke, asked questions that made it obvious he was genuinely interested in the answers, and had a habit of smiling halfway through your stories that somehow encouraged you to keep talking. Every now and then he’d tell one of his own, usually ending it with an expression that suggested he still couldn’t believe it had happened, and you understood almost immediately why people seemed so comfortable around him.

“Hey.” Both of you turned at the sound of Mina’s voice. She was standing in the doorway with an amused smile, looking between the two of you before raising an eyebrow. “I’ve been looking for you,” she said, directing the comment at you. “Apparently someone wants to talk to you about a campaign you did last year. Hey Jin,” she greeted him with a smile he returned.

You blinked a bit confused. “How long have I been in here?”

“I don’t know.” Mina glanced at Jin before looking back at you. “Long enough that I assumed you’d gone home already.”

You laughed, setting your empty glass on the counter. “I should probably go save my professional reputation.”

“Probably.”

You looked back at Jin. “It was really nice talking to you.”

“You too,” he said with an easy smile. “Hopefully next time it won’t be around coffee or water.”

“I can’t promise anything. I like drinks.”

“I guess we’ll find out then.”

You smiled once before following Mina back toward the living room, already letting yourself get pulled into another conversation before you’d made it halfway across the apartment.

The rest of the evening passed with too many conversations happening at once, people arriving and leaving whenever they pleased, someone ordering late-night food nobody needed but everyone ate anyway. You spoke to Seokjin once more before leaving, nothing more than a quick goodbye as people gathered near the front door, and by the time you stepped into the elevator you were convinced that was all the night would become.

It wasn’t until you were driving home with the windows cracked open and the music playing quietly in the background that you realized something had changed. It wasn’t that you’d spent the evening talking to someone super famous, that part genuinely didn’t matter. It was that, somewhere between discussing airport coffee, impossible work schedules and the strange satisfaction of seeing a project finally come together, you’d completely lost track of time.

You couldn’t remember the last conversation you’d had with someone new that had felt so effortless.

And, much to your own surprise, you caught yourself wondering what the two of you would’ve talked about if someone hadn’t interrupted. That thought stayed with you all the way home, quietly settling into the back of your mind.

For the first time in a long while, you found yourself hoping your paths crossed again. And, for the first time ever, you just knew it will happen again.

——————————

You could dress it up however you wanted, tell yourself you were simply becoming more social or that it had been nice meeting new people outside of work, but somewhere between leaving that apartment three weeks ago and accepting yet another invitation you normally would’ve declined, you’d become painfully aware of one very embarrassing fact.

You were trying to see him again. Not in a creepy way, of course… At least, that’s what you insisted every time the thought crossed your mind.

It just so happened that after that night you’d kept in touch with a few of the people you’d met. One of the photographers had sent you a meme after discovering you shared the same hatred for some kind of food, a stylist had invited you to lunch with a couple of mutual friends, and before long you found yourself in a group chat that seemed to organize dinners, birthdays and last-minute gatherings every other weekend.

You said yes to all of them.

Was it because you’d genuinely enjoyed everyone’s company? Absolutely. Was it also because every invitation carried the tiny possibility that Jin might be there? …That part didn’t need to be examined too closely.

By the third invitation you had accepted, even Mina had started looking at you suspiciously. “You’ve become weirdly available lately.”

You looked up from where you were digging through your wardrobe. “I’ve always been available.”

“You canceled dinner with me two weeks ago,” she reminded you.

“I had work.”

“You left work at six.”

“Then I was tired.”

Mina crossed her arms, watching as you held two nearly identical sweaters up against yourself before putting one back on the hanger. “And yet,” she continued slowly, “you’re apparently not too tired to drive forty-five minutes across the city for a casual hangout hosted by people you’ve known for…” She pretended to count on her fingers. “…Roughly three weeks?”

You didn’t even bother turning around. “I’ve known them more time, silly. We just started talking more since the hangout. We connected.”

“Right. I’m sure you did.” She said suspiciously.

“They’re fun.”

“Mhm.”

“And it’s good to make new friends.”

“Mhm.”

You sighed, finally looking at her. “Okay, what? What are you implying?”

“I’m not implying anything.”

“You’re humming like a bitch, just say it.”

Mina smiled into her coffee before taking a sip. “I just think it’s interesting.”

“What is?”

“That you suddenly have a thriving social life.”

“I’ve always had a social life.”

“You absolutely have not.”

“I did.”

“You’ve spent the last year declining every invitation that wasn’t work-related.”

You opened your mouth to argue before stopping halfway through. “…Okay, you’re right. But I’m just trying something different now.”

“I think that’s great.”

“I knew you’d understand,” you pointed at her with a cheeky smiled, turning around to keep looking for an outfit.

“I do.” She smiled sweetly. “I also think it has absolutely nothing to do with the fact that a certain someone might be there tonight.”

You froze for a second before reaching for the nearest cushion and threw it at her. “Shut up.”

She caught it without much effort. “I knew it”

“You don’t know shit.”

You rolled your eyes, but the smile tugging at the corner of your mouth ruined whatever annoyance you were trying to perform. “I cant believe I was right. Do you like Seokjin?”

“Of course not!” You laughed despite yourself, dropping onto the edge of your bed. “I barely know him.”

“But you wanna see him again,” she pointed out.

“… Yeah.” You couldn’t lie. “I don’t even know him enough to know if I like him but… I don’t know. He’s cute.”

“I haven’t see you interested in someone in so long!” She said excitedly. “I’m so happy. I’m sure he’s interested in you too.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I can feel a vibe.”

“I bet he barely remembers our conversation. He was probably being just polite.” You shook your head.

“Nah, people usually remember conversations. At least he had to remember a word or something.”

You groaned dramatically, burying your face in your hands. “You’re the worst person to ask for reassurance.”

“I don’t think he dislikes you.”

“That’s not reassuring at all!.”

“Okay, okay. I’m serious.” She set her coffee down before looking at you properly. “From what I saw that night, he looked comfortable talking to you.”

“He also looked comfortable talking to literally everyone.”

“Thats true but because he knew everyone. Usually with new people he’s very shy. So the fact that he was talking to you comfortably I think it says a lot.”

“So?”

“So go and find out. Talk to him more, see if you actually like him.”

You chuckled. “Okay, sure. Whatever I’ll just go. Worst-case scenario, I spend an evening with nice people.”

“And best-case scenario?” She raised an eyebrow.

“I’ll tell you about it if it happens,” you said with a smirk.

Mina groaned so loudly that she nearly spilled her coffee laughing.

——————————

The gathering was even smaller than the last one. Someone had volunteered their apartment, someone else had ordered enough food to feed twice the number of guests, and by the time you arrived most people were already spread around the living room, talking over one another while music played quietly from the speakers. You recognized almost everyone this time. Not well enough to call them close friends, but enough that conversations started easily

The photographer from the previous party greeted you with a hug before immediately pulling you into a discussion about an impossible decision he had to make for his career, an stylist insisted you try whatever dessert she’d brought, and before long you found yourself laughing at stories from a recent campaign shoot that had apparently gone catastrophically wrong. It felt surprisingly natural and comfortable being with these people you never really had the chance to get closer to.

You were halfway through telling someone about a model who’d accidentally boarded the wrong train during Milan Fashion Week when the apartment door opened. You didn’t look immediately because you obviously weren’t waiting for anyone.

Then someone near the entrance said, “Jin!”

Your head turned so fast you almost broke your beck… Very subtle.

He stepped inside carrying a paper bag from a bakery, apologizing for being late before greeting the host. There was something oddly familiar about watching him move through the room now. A month ago he would’ve blended into the evening like everyone else. Now you found yourself recognizing little things almost unconsciously— the way he smiled before saying hello, the habit of slightly bowing his head when someone older greeted him, how he always seemed to listen before speaking.

You hated that your brain had memorized all of it.

He spotted you a few moments later. There was the smallest pause before recognition crossed his face, followed by an easy smile. “Hey.”

“Hi.”

“You made it.”

The words were so ordinary that you almost laughed. “So did you.”

“I almost didn’t. Work really keeps you busy.”

“Were you actually working, or is that the excuse everyone in our industry uses?”

He smiled, rubbing the back of his neck. “…Both.”

“Fair enough.”

Someone called his name before either of you could continue. “I’ll talk to you later,” he said apologetically, nodding toward the group waiting for him.

“Yeah, of course.”

He disappeared almost immediately and you watched him walk away before frowning slightly. You weren’t entirely convinced if he was just being nice of if he also felt that weird vibe going between you two. Maybe you were just too delusional.

Over the next hour your paths kept crossing in the strangest ways. Every time you thought maybe you should walk over, someone else was already talking to him. When he finally looked free, another friend dragged you into a conversation on the balcony. Then, just as you managed to excuse yourself, Jin was helping someone carry drinks into the kitchen.

It was becoming almost comical.

You couldn’t help smiling when he finally made his way over, balancing two glasses in one hand after what felt like an entire evening of narrowly missing each other. It had almost become a running joke in your own head; every time one of you looked free, someone else inevitably appeared to steal the other’s attention. By now it was honestly impressive.

“I was starting to think this apartment was cursed,” you said as he stopped beside you, accepting the glass he held out. “Every single time I thought about coming over to talk to you, somebody got there first.”

“You wanted to talk to me?”

“Of course,” you didn’t shy away, trying not to make the situation uncomfortable. “We had a nice chat last time.”

A laugh escaped him, quieter than the ones you’d heard from across the room but just as genuine, and he shook his head before taking a sip of his drink. “Me too. And I thought that was only happening to me,” he admitted. “Twice I walked over because I figured everyone was finally done talking to you, and then someone else started another conversation before I made it halfway across the room.”

“Seriously?”

“Mhm.” He smiled, looking almost sheepish. “At one point I thought maybe you were avoiding me.”

You looked at him for a second before laughing “I thought you were avoiding me.”

For a moment he simply stared at you, almost as if he was trying to decide whether you were joking, before the corners of his mouth lifted again. “So we’ve both spent the last hour being wrong.”

“I guess we have.”

Whatever awkwardness had followed you around since he’d arrived seemed to disappear with that exchange. It wasn’t some magical shift where suddenly everything became effortless, but the uncertainty you’d both apparently been carrying dissolved enough that the conversation no longer felt like something either of you had to force. Instead of wondering whether you were interrupting him or whether he was only being polite, you found yourselves walking toward the quieter side of the balcony almost without thinking, making room for another group squeezing through the doorway while continuing exactly where you’d left off.

“So, what do you do for work?” You said almost jokingly.

He looked genuinely caught off guard by the question. “What do you mean? You already know.”

“I don’t know,” you laughed. “Everybody always asks what you do for work, but work is only part of your life. So I don’t know, maybe tell me something you like to do that is not working.”

He thought about it for a second, absentmindedly turning his glass in his hands. “I sleep.”

You looked at him. “That cannot be your final answer.”

“I’m serious.”

“I believe you. I just refuse to accept it.”

“It takes up a surprising amount of my free time.”

“I’m trying to discover your hobbies, Seokjin.”

Jin smiled to himself before giving in. “I play video-games.”

“You play video games?”

“I do,” he nodded confidently even when his neck started getting red. “And I’m really good at them. Computer games, play station. Everything.”

“That’s nice,” you nodded with a little chuckle trying to scape out of your lips. “I don’t know anything about that.”

“It’s pretty fun.”

“Yeah, I can tell by the way you talk about it.”

He laughed quietly, and there was something strangely endearing about how easily he laughed at himself. Most people, especially in your line of work, had a habit of polishing every story until they sounded impressive. Jin seemed to do the opposite. Every time he talked about something he’d done well, he somehow ended up mentioning the part that had gone wrong too, as though he didn’t really see the point in pretending otherwise.

“So what about you?” he asked. “What do you like to do?”

You smiled. “I like to read.”

“What kind of books?”

“Anything that makes me forget to check my phone.”

He nodded thoughtfully. “I like movies like that.”

“The ones where you forget you’re watching one?”

“Exactly.”

“Oh my god. I actually have a section in my Letterbox like that. ‘Movies that feel like movies.’” You said excited.

“I’m gonna need you to send me your account then,” he said seriously.

The two of you ended up lingering near the balcony more minutes, just talking. Around you, people drifted in and out of the apartment with the same relaxed rhythm the evening had carried from the beginning. Someone stepped outside to answer a phone call, another group squeezed past on their way to refill drinks, music floated faintly from the living room, but none of it seemed to interrupt the conversation anymore. It simply became part of the background.

“I know this is going to sounds ridiculous.” He looked almost embarrassed. “But I’m not great with new people,” he admitted. “So I’m glad you’re easy to talk to.”

“Really? You said, shaking your head as you leaned against the railing. “You seem so in ease.”

“Nah. Two years ago you probably would’ve had to carry the conversation by yourself.”

“I feel like I already do that sometimes.”

He looked at you, amused. “You?”

“I overshare when I’m nervous.”

“I would’ve never guessed.”

“Exactly. That’s the problem, I just talk to much.”

Jin smiled to himself before taking another sip of his drink. “I get quieter.”

“So we’re opposites.”

“Maybe.”

“I fill every silence.”

“I wait for the other person to.”

“So we are a match made in heaven.”

“Exactly.”

You both laughed, and for a second you simply watched the people inside the apartment. Someone had convinced half the room to play some card game that looked increasingly chaotic with every passing minute. A girl was already arguing about the rules despite the game having barely started.

“You know,” you said, “It’s kind of funny. I would’ve guessed the complete opposite.”

“About me?”

You nodded. “I don’t know… I think because you’re around people all the time, I just assumed talking to strangers came naturally.”

“It doesn’t, at all.” He shook his head. “I still overthink almost every conversation.”

You frowned. “Seriously?”

“Mhm.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“It’s true.”

“But you seem…” You searched for the right word. “…Comfortable.”

“I pretend.”

“So you’re acting?”

He laughed. “I don’t know if I’d call it acting.”

“What would you call it?”

“I just… remind myself that nobody else knows I’m nervous.”

You looked at him for a moment, surprised by how simple the answer was. “I’ve never thought about it like that.

“It helps.”

“I usually assume everyone can tell.”

“I think everyone assumes that.”

You smiled. “I’ve spent half my career convinced people can see me panicking.”

He looked genuinely confused. “I thought you were one of those people who had everything under control.”

You laughed so suddenly you nearly spilled your drink. “I don’t think anyone who’s worked with me would describe me that way.”

“They would.”

“They absolutely wouldn’t.”

“They would.”

“Seokjin.”

“I’m serious.”

You raised an eyebrow. “You’ve only talked to me like twice.”

“I would say more.”

“Mm, not really.”

He nodded. “There was a campaign dinner last winter where we talked a bit.”

You blinked a little taken aback. “You remember that?”

“You were trying to find someone’s assistant. I remember because in that event you were working with Taehyung too.”

“Ah, yes. I was trying to find a missing garment bag.” You couldn’t stop yourself from laughing. “I can’t believe you remember that.”

He shrugged almost apologetically. “I remember weird things.”

“Apparently.”

There was something about that answer that stayed with you. Not because he’d remembered the event itself— that wasn’t impossible— but because he’d remembered you in it. You hadn’t been the client, you hadn’t been the center of the evening. You’d simply been another person running around making sure everything worked. Most people never noticed those things.

“You know what’s strange?” you asked after a moment. “I’ve spent years assuming nobody notices the people behind events.”

Jin tilted his head. “Some do.”

“You do.”

“People behind the scene make everything happen. It’s impossible not to notice.”

You smiled, a little uncertainly. “Most people only remember the face wearing the clothes.”

“I think that’s normal.”

“I know.”

“But…” He paused for a second, as though trying to explain something he hadn’t really put into words before. “I think once you’ve worked around enough productions, you start noticing the people who keep everything moving. You can usually tell who’s solving problems. I guess that’s why I noticed you.”

You looked down at your glass for a second before smiling. “I don’t think anyone’s ever complimented me like that.”

He looked almost surprised. “It was a compliment?”

“Yeah. For me it is.”

“I was just telling the truth.”

The conversation wandered somewhere else after that, not because either of you tried to change the subject but because that seemed to be how talking to him worked. One thought naturally led to another. You ended up discussing the strange satisfaction of crossing things off handwritten to-do lists, the fact that both of you still preferred carrying notebooks despite having every reminder imaginable on your phones, how much you hated the smell of beer, how much he loved snowboarding and the ridiculous amount of time people spent pretending to enjoy networking events.

“So you don’t like them either?” you asked.

“I like leaving them.”

You laughed out loud. “That’s such an honest answer.”

“I always tell myself I’ll stay for an hour. Then I look at the time and it’s three hours later.” He shook his head. “Every time.”

“Why don’t you leave?”

Jin smiled. “Because then I meet someone interesting.”

You felt your heart give one annoyingly noticeable beat. “Does that happen often to you?.”

“It doesn’t.” Before you could think of a response, someone called his name from inside. He turned instinctively. “What?”

“Your food is getting cold! Are you eating?”

“I’ll be there!” He looked back at you almost immediately. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

“You were saying?”

The fact that he’d come back to the conversation instead of letting it die made something warm settle somewhere in your chest.

“I honestly don’t even remember.”

“You were probably making fun of me.”

“I probably was.”

“I think you were.”

“I’ll continue after you get food.”

He smiled. “Deal.”

And he did.

Five minutes later, after grabbing two slices of pizza and somehow convincing someone else to stop stealing olives off his plate, he walked right back over and picked up the conversation as though nobody had interrupted it in the first place. It happened again later. Someone asked him to settle an argument in the kitchen, another friend pulled him into a group photo. Every single time, he came back. Not tired or with some grand excuse, just quietly returning to where you’d been standing before asking, “Where were we?”

By the end of the night you realized you’d talked about almost everything and almost nothing. Childhood hobbies, the fact that both of you hated talking on the phone but would happily send ten-minute voice notes, how neither of you understood people who enjoyed going out every weekend to party, the weird satisfaction of grocery shopping late at night. You talked about the best convenience store snacks, whether pineapple belonged on pizza and more. The conversation never felt like it needed to impress the other person, it just kept going.

When people finally started putting on their jackets, you were genuinely surprised to see the apartment had emptied without you noticing. “I should head out too,” you said, slipping your phone into your bag.

Seokjin nodded. “Me too.” For a second neither of you moved. “I had a really good time,” he said, smiling in that same quiet way he always seemed to.

“Me too.” You stayed in your place, waiting for him to ask for your number.

“I’ll…” He hesitated just enough for you to notice it. “…I’m sure we’ll see each other again.”

“Right,” you said, almost disappointed. “Yeah, I hope so.”

He smiled once more before following his friends toward the door. You watched him leave, waiting until the apartment had almost emptied before saying your own goodbyes.

The drive home was spent replaying conversations you hadn’t meant to memorize. Not because anything extraordinary had happened. He hadn’t flirted with you, he hadn’t asked for your goddamn number. Seokjin hadn’t looked at you in some life-changing, movie-worthy way. If anything, the evening had been remarkably ordinary. And maybe that was exactly why you couldn’t stop thinking about it.

You liked talking to him, like a lot. There had been no awkward pauses to fill, no pressure to sound clever, no moments where you found yourself wondering what you should say next. Somehow the two of you had managed to spend hours discussing the most ridiculous, everyday things, and you’d still walked away feeling like there were another hundred conversations left to have. That should have been exciting. Instead, it left you hopelessly confused. Because Jin was nice. Painfully, consistently nice. He listened to everyone, he smiled at everyone, he remembered details about people that most would’ve forgotten. So how were you supposed to tell whether any of tonight had actually meant something?

Maybe he talked to everybody like that, maybe every person who left one of his conversations went home thinking they’d been understood, maybe this was just who he was. You couldn’t read him. Every time you thought he’d given you a sign, your brain immediately found another explanation for it, and by the time you pulled into your apartment building you were somehow even more confused than when the evening had started.

The only thing that wasn’t confusing anymore was yourself. There wasn’t any point pretending this was simple curiosity, that excuse had expired somewhere around the conversation about how much you loved strawberry cheesecake.

You liked him. Entirely, inconveniently and undeniably.

You smiled all the way upstairs because the realization was somehow equal parts embarrassing and exciting. And later, before you’d even finished getting ready for bed, you found yourself opening the group chat from the party. Your thumb hovered over the upcoming plans someone had mentioned earlier. A birthday dinner next week. A movie night the weekend after. A barbecue if the weather stayed nice. You stared at the messages for a moment before smiling to yourself. A month ago, you would’ve checked your calendar first or invent another excuse to not show up. Tonight, you were already trying to figure out how to make sure you didn’t have any plans at all so you could see him again.

——————————

Monday mornings at HYBE building looked exactly the way you imagined a music company would. Stylists hurried down the hall balancing garment bags over one shoulder while trying to answer phone calls at the same time, assistants walked briskly between meeting rooms carrying stacks of documents that somehow looked urgent regardless of what was inside them, and every few minutes someone you vaguely recognized from a campaign, a magazine shoot or an awards show passed by with a polite nod before disappearing around another corner. It was organized chaos, the kind that somehow managed to function despite looking as though everything was happening at once.

You’d been there often enough over the years that the receptionist greeted you by name before you’d even reached the desk. “Good morning.”

“Morning,” you smiled, accepting the visitor’s badge she handed over. “I’m here for the ten o’clock.”

“They’re already waiting for you.”

“Perfect. Thank you.”

Luxury fashion PR had a funny way of making every company building start to feel familiar. One month you were spending every afternoon at a magazine headquarters preparing a campaign, the next you were coordinating fittings at a fashion house, and then suddenly you were sitting in entertainment agencies discussing contracts between artists and brands. It meant learning hundreds of names, remembering dozens of schedules and somehow keeping track of who was available on which side of the world.

By the time you reached the conference room, three people from HYBE’s partnership team were already seated around the table, laptops open and coffees untouched.

The meeting itself was surprisingly straightforward. The agency had recently signed a new rookie group whose first luxury campaign was already attracting attention from several international brands, and your company had been hired to coordinate the negotiations and oversee the campaign schedule. Most of the creative decisions had already been approved weeks earlier, which meant your morning was spent going over travel dates, confirming fitting appointments, discussing possible magazine covers and making sure nobody had accidentally scheduled three different events in three different countries on the same day… It happened more often than people realized.

“I’ll send over the updated timeline this afternoon,” you said, closing your notebook once everyone seemed satisfied. “As long as the group’s comeback date doesn’t move again, everything should stay on schedule.”

One of the managers laughed. “Please don’t say that out loud.”

“I’m choosing optimism.”

“We’ve learned not to.”

You smiled. “Fair enough.”

Another hour disappeared into emails and final revisions before the meeting finally wrapped up. By the time you stepped back into the hallway, your shoulders already felt lighter. There were still a dozen things waiting for you back at the office, but the most complicated part of your week had gone considerably smoother than you’d expected.

You had just slipped your notebook and laptop into your bag when a familiar voice called your name from the other end of the corridor. You turned just in time to see Taehyung walking toward you, sunglasses hooked onto the collar of his T-shirt despite being indoors. For a second you simply stared.

“Well, that’s a face I haven’t seen in forever.”

He laughed. “I was about to say the same thing.” The two of you met halfway down the hallway, exchanging a quick hug before stepping back. “What are you doing here?” he asked. “I thought your office was like 3 hours away.”

“It is. We were meeting with the partnership team.”

“For the rookie group?” You nodded. “Please tell me they’re behaving.”

“So far.”

“So they haven’t started changing schedules every six hours yet?”

“It’s only Monday.”

“There’s still time to run.”

You laughed. “You sound like you’ve been traumatized.”

“I’ve worked in this building long enough. Rookie groups are starting to be a nightmare.”

“That’s fair. I’ve seen some news.”

The conversation slipped back into familiarity almost immediately. You hadn’t worked together in nearly two years, but spending months coordinating the promotional aesthetic campaign for his first solo album had a way of making people remember each other. After that there had been fashion events, magazine dinners, a handful of award shows and enough passing greetings over the years that seeing him now felt less like bumping into an old client and more like running into an old coworker.

“So,” he asked, leaning casually against the wall, “how’s life?”

“Busy.”

“I expected a more exciting answer.”

“I coordinate luxury campaigns.”

“So… busy.”

“Exactly.” You chuckled. “What about you?”

Taehyung sighed dramatically. “We start rehearsals again next week.”

“For the tour?” He hummed in agreement. “I saw the dates.” You mentioned. “They look impossible. You have, what…” You frowned, trying to remember. “Three countries in a week and then another one next week in another continent?”

“Yeah.. I’ve stopped looking.”

“I don’t blame you.”

“You learn not to pay attention,” he smiled cheekily.

Before either of you could continue, another voice joined the conversation.

“I had a feeling I’d find you here hiding.” You looked up instinctively. Jin had just stepped out of one of the rehearsal studios further down the hallway, a black hoodie thrown over his shoulders. He slowed as he reached the two of you, smiling in quiet surprise when he noticed you standing there. “Oh.” His smile widened just slightly. “Hi.”

“Hi,” you smiled slightly, heart starting to beat a little faster.

“What are you doing here?” he asked.

You lifted the visitor’s badge hanging around your neck. “Work.”

“That makes more sense.” He nodded knowingly.

“Lucky for her,” Taehyung interrupted, “she gets to leave.”

You smiled. “I do.”

“I’ve still got vocal rehearsal.”

Jin looked at him. “I thought you were eating first.”

“I was.” Taehyung glanced down at his phone before groaning. “…Actually, no, apparently I’m not. They just moved my reservation.”

“Again?”

He held up his screen dramatically. “I’ve officially given up questioning management.”

You laughed. “Some things never change.”

“They really don’t.”

He pushed himself away from the wall before pointing between the two of you. “I’m leaving you to catch up because if I’m late one more time they’ll start pretending I’m difficult.”

“You are difficult,” Jin said.

“But you love me anyway”

“Ew, don’t say that.”

“You do!” Taehyung looked back at you. “It was good seeing you again.”

“You too.”

“Don’t disappear for another two years.”

“I’ll do my best.” With one last wave, he disappeared around the corner, leaving the hallway noticeably quieter. For a moment you and Jin simply watched him go. “He hasn’t changed,” you said eventually.

“Not even a little.”

“I think that’s impressive.”

“I think it’s exhausting.”

You laughed. “I can imagine.”

The two of you started walking almost without discussing it, heading slowly toward the elevators at the end of the hallway. Neither of you seemed particularly rushed, and after the last few times you’d talked, it no longer felt strange to fall into conversation so easily.

“So,” he asked, glancing over at you, “how did the meeting go?”

“Better than I expected. I was preparing for at least one scheduling disaster but everything went well.”

“You sound disappointed.”

“Nah. I like being pleasantly surprised. You shrugged. “What about you?” you asked. “Taehyung mentioned rehearsals.”

He nodded. “We leave in a few weeks.”

“You excited?”

“I am.” He smiled to himself before looking ahead again. “I think the rehearsals are always the hardest part.”

“Really?”

“I like performing but I don’t like preparing to perform.”

You laughed softly. “I don’t know why that makes perfect sense.”

“I spend weeks wondering if we’re ready. And then the first show starts and I stop worrying for about two hours.” He told you, a little exhausted. “Then I start worrying about the next one.”

You smiled. “I feel like that’s every job.”

“It probably is.”

By the time you reached the elevators, the conversation had wandered somewhere entirely different. Somehow you’d ended up talking about travel again, comparing favorite cities from work trips, complaining about airports, laughing over the fact that neither of you had figured out how people managed to sleep comfortably on planes.

The elevator arrived with a quiet chime. You both stepped inside. “Oh, I forgot to ask,” he said as the doors closed. “What are you doing this weekend?”

You looked at him, a little excited. “This weekend? I don’t really have plans. Why?”

“You wanna have dinner?.” He hesitated for a second before clarifying. “Everyone’s getting together on Saturday. Some close friends, Taehyung is also included. We’re going to a nice restaurant. I thought maybe you would like to come.”

“Oh.” You smiled. An invitation, as friends. Great. “Yeah, of course. I’ll be there.”

“Great,” he said with a smile. “Nice.” There was a small pause, comfortable rather than awkward, before he looked at you again with the same thoughtful expression you’d started recognizing over the past few weeks. “Actually…” He rubbed the back of his neck almost absentmindedly. “I just realized I don’t have your number.”

You hummed. “Yeah… You don’t.”

“I probably should.”

“That would make things easier. You know, for the address of the restaurant and all.”

“It would. Yes.”

You unlocked your phone and handed it to him. “Here.”

Seokjin smiled as he typed his contact into it before giving it back. “I’ll text you,” he said simply. “To let you know it’s me and send you the address”

You nodded. “Right.” The elevator doors opened onto the lobby. You stepped out together before stopping near the entrance, where your paths naturally split in opposite directions. “I should let you get back to work,” you said before smiling. “I’ll see you Saturday.”

He nodded. “See you Saturday.”

You watched him disappear back toward the elevators before pushing through the glass doors into the afternoon sun. Halfway across the parking lot, your phone vibrated.

Unknown Number. You opened the message before you’d even reached your car.

Seokjin: Just proving it’s actually me.

A second message appeared almost immediately.

Seokjin: Don’t be late on Saturday. Taehyung will absolutely blame someone else if he is, and I’d rather it not be you.

Seokjin: [address]

You: Noted. I’ll arrive early just to preserve my reputation.

His reply came less than a minute later.

Seokjin: Smart girl

Okay, that was hot.

You know it wasn’t flirtatious, it wasn’t even particularly memorable. But as you slid your phone back into your bag, you couldn’t stop smiling. In all the times you had spent talking for hours at a friend’s apartment and now exchanging numbers in an elevator, things had quietly become very comfortable with him. You still had absolutely no idea whether Jin saw you as anything more than someone he enjoyed talking to. If anything, getting to know him had only made him harder to read. He was attentive with everyone, kind without making a performance of it, and thoughtful in a way that could easily be mistaken for interest if you weren’t careful.

Which was exactly the problem. You couldn’t tell whether he liked you like that. The uncertainty was still there, lingering in the back of your mind every time you replayed one of your conversations, but it didn’t bother you quite as much anymore. Because one thing, at least, had become impossible to deny. He liked spending time with you.

Saturday suddenly felt very, very far away.

——————————

The restaurant wasn’t particularly fancy, which somehow suited the group better than any upscale place ever could have. It was tucked away on a quiet street a little outside the city center, the kind of place people only seemed to know about through recommendations rather than advertisements. Warm lights hung above the terrace, the windows were thrown open to let the late summer air drift inside, and the steady murmur of conversations mixed with clinking glasses and the occasional burst of laughter from another table.

You spotted everyone almost immediately. There couldn’t have been more than ten people, already gathered around a long wooden table near the back of the restaurant. Someone waved the second you stepped through the door, and within moments three different voices were greeting you at once.

“There she is.”

“I told you she’d be late.”

“I am three minutes early,” you protested, laughing as you slipped your bag off your shoulder.

“You’re ten minutes late.”

“That’s early for her.”

You smiled, making your way around the table to greet everyone properly. A couple of faces were still relatively new, people you’d only met once or twice over the last month, while others already felt strangely familiar despite how recently they’d come into your life. It was funny how quickly comfort formed when everyone shared the same chaotic industry. Then your eyes found Jin. He was already seated halfway down the table, listening to something Taehyung was saying with that small smile you were becoming increasingly familiar with. When he noticed you looking over, he gave you an easy wave.

“Hey.” He smiled. “You finally found the place.”

“Barely,” you admitted. “Your directions were significantly better than my navigation.”

“I knew I should’ve sent more landmarks.”

“I still would’ve gotten lost.”

“I believe that.”

You caught yourself smiling at the quick exchange before you’d even reached your chair. When you looked around for somewhere to sit you noticed there was only one empty seat left. To the other corner of the table, directly across from him, not close at all. You stared at it for a second. “…Seriously?”

Someone looked up. “What?”

“Nothing.” You smiled, sliding into the chair. “I just thought I’d made it before everyone else.”

“Why?”

“No reason.”

You reached for the menu before anyone could ask another question. Across the table, Jin looked briefly amused, though he didn’t comment, instead returning to whatever story Taehyung had been telling before you’d arrived. You tried very hard not to let the tiny disappointment bother you. It was ridiculous, really ridiculous. You weren’t in middle school. You weren’t twelve years old trying to sit beside your crush in class. You were a grown woman who coordinated campaigns worth more money than most people made in a year. You could survive sitting far from this guy …Probably.

Dinner started slowly, with everyone ordering drinks while waiting for the last two people to arrive. Once they did, the conversation settled into that familiar rhythm you’d started associating with this group. Nobody stuck to one topic for very long. One person would mention work, someone else would remember a completely unrelated story, and twenty minutes later everyone would somehow be debating whether overnight flights were worse than six a.m. call times.

Laughter rippled around the table. You found yourself joining in easily, adding comments here and there whenever the conversation naturally drifted your way. It felt comfortable, and yet every now and then your attention wandered somewhere it probably shouldn’t. Across from you, Jin was talking to one of the producers about the upcoming tour. You couldn’t hear everything they were saying, but every so often he’d laugh quietly or shake his head at something someone else had said, and despite telling yourself not to, your eyes kept finding him. Once and then again. Then another time. It was becoming embarrassingly automatic. At one point he happened to glance up while reaching for his water. Your eyes met for barely a second and he gave you just a small smile. Then the conversation beside him continued, and he turned back toward it. You did the same.

See? He’s talking to everyone.

You forced yourself to pay attention to the conversation happening on your side of the table instead. For the next hour that became the pattern of the evening. Whenever everyone spoke together, it felt easy. You’d catch each other’s eye occasionally across the table, laugh at the same stories, tease Taehyung whenever he exaggerated something, but there wasn’t really an opportunity for the kind of conversation you’d secretly been hoping for.

The distance of a table suddenly felt much larger than it actually was. You hated yourself a little for caring. There were at least eight other people there and you liked all of them. You were having a genuinely good time. And yet some stubborn, irritating part of your brain kept thinking… I haven’t actually talked to him. Every now and then someone beside him would ask him something directly, another person would join in, and before long he’d be caught in another conversation while you were doing exactly the same thing at your end of the table.

Maybe this was normal, maybe you’d built up the last few weeks too much in your own head. Maybe they had felt significant because they’d happened one-on-one and your brain had made the situations feel extra intimate only becuase you liked him like that. Here, surrounded by everyone else, he seemed exactly the way he always had. Kind, relaxed and happy to talk to whoever happened to be nearby.

It occurred to you, not for the first time, that maybe this was simply who he was.

You were halfway through telling the photographer beside you about a campaign that had nearly fallen apart because a shipment had been sent to the wrong country when another burst of laughter echoed from Jin’s side of the table. Almost instinctively, you looked over. He was smiling at something a friend had just said. Nothing unusual, nothing you hadn’t already seen a hundred times. Still… A tiny, childish part of you felt oddly deflated.

You took another sip of your drink. Get over yourself. The evening wasn’t about you. You’d barely known him for a month. There was no reason to expect him to spend the entire dinner talking to you. Honestly, if someone else described this situation to you, you’d probably tell them they were overthinking it. Which, unfortunately, meant you were almost certainly overthinking it.

“You’ve gone quiet.”

You looked back toward the woman sitting beside you. “Hm?”

“I was asking if you’re coming to Milan next month.”

“Oh.” You laughed softly. “Sorry. I got distracted.”

“I noticed.”

“I probably am.”

“You probably?”

“My calendar changes every three days.”

“That’s the most PR answer I’ve ever heard.”

“It’s also the only honest one.”

The conversation picked back up, and eventually you stopped checking the other end of the table quite so often. Or at least, you convinced yourself you had.

Dinner stretched comfortably into the evening. Plates gradually disappeared, dessert menus appeared almost without anyone noticing, and one by one people started glancing at their phones, remembering early schedules or long drives home.

“I should probably go,” one of the producers sighed eventually, pushing his chair back. “I have a seven a.m. meeting tomorrow.”

“On a Sunday?”

“I know.”

“My condolences.”

Another person stood and some of them followed. Goodbyes started overlapping with fresh conversations, people lingering by the table while putting on jackets because nobody ever managed to leave immediately. You’d barely noticed how many people had already gone when the friend beside you launched into a story about their parents divorce.

By the time she’d finally reached the end of the story, probably regretting saying too much, the restaurant had become noticeably quieter. You looked around almost absentmindedly. The table that had been full less than fifteen minutes earlier was almost empty. Taehyung had already left, your photographer friend was gone, one stylist had disappeared after hugging everyone goodbye. Only one chair across from you was still occupied.

Jin looked up from the beer he’d been absentmindedly nursing for the better part of an hour and smiled. “I think everyone abandoned us.”

You blinked before looking around once more. “They actually did.”

He laughed quietly. “I didn’t even notice.” Neither had you. Jin glanced toward the front of the restaurant, where the last of your friends were saying their goodbyes near the entrance, then looked back at you with an expression that suggested he was just as surprised as you were. “I guess we were really invested in our conversations.”

You laughed, still looking around as if someone else might suddenly reappear. “I feel like there were ten people here five minutes ago.”

“There were. But I think they slowly escaped while we weren’t paying attention.”

“So we’re the last ones here.”

“I don’t think the staff minds.”

As if on cue, one of the waiters walked past carrying a stack of empty plates, offering the two of you a polite smile before disappearing into the kitchen. You glanced back toward the entrance. “I should probably head out too.”

Jin looked down at the beer still sitting in front of him before looking back up. “I mean…” He hesitated for a second, almost like he was debating whether to ask. “Would you mind staying for a bit? I haven’t finished this yet.”

You followed his gaze to the glass. It was still almost half full. “…Of course.”

“I don’t want to keep you if you have plans.”

“I don’t.”

“You sure?”

You smiled. “I’m sure.”

He smiled back, a little relieved. “Okay.”

Neither of you spoke for a moment, but unlike before, the silence wasn’t searching for a conversation. It simply existed while the restaurant slowly emptied around you. Someone in the kitchen dropped a tray, a waiter laughed at something another employee had said, and outside the windows the street had grown noticeably quieter than it had been when everyone first arrived.

Jin took another sip of his beer. You were almost certain it had to be warm by now. “So,” he said eventually, moving to seat next to you before resting his forearms against the table, “did you have a good time tonight?”

“I did.” You smiled. “I actually like this group a lot.” You thought about it for a second. “I feel like everyone already knows everyone else’s schedules are a mess.” He laughed. “So nobody gets offended when someone cancels.”

“They know what life is like this.”

“What about you?”

Seokjin shrugged. “I like that they remember you’re also a person.”

You looked at him curiously. “What do you mean?”

He smiled as he said it, but there was something thoughtful underneath the smile that made you think he wasn’t entirely joking. “I think when people see someone whose job is public, they forget that the rest of your life still exists.”

You nodded slowly. “That makes sense.”

“They just assume you’re always in your performing mood.”

You rested your chin lightly against your hand. “I prefer the honest side of people.”

“That’s even better then.”

The conversation drifted naturally from there, taking the same shape all of your conversations seemed to take. One topic quietly became another without either of you trying to steer it anywhere in particular. Somehow you ended up talking about childhood, about the strange jobs you’d imagined yourselves having when you were ten years old, laughing when he admitted he’d once been absolutely convinced he’d become a veterinarian despite fainting the first time he watched blood being drawn.

“You fainted?”

“I was twelve.”

“I don’t think age helps your case.” You laughed silently. “So what happened to becoming a veterinarian?”

“I realized animals deserved someone much braver.”

“I think that’s fair.”

“What about you?”

“I wanted to be a librarian or own a bookstore.”

His eyebrows lifted. “Really?” You hummed. “I can actually picture that. I feel like you’re the kind of person who probably organize everything alphabetically.”

You gasped dramatically. “I’m not. I’d organize them by genre!”

He snorted, blinking a little slow before biting his lower lip to not smile. You thought he was really handsome like that. “Of course you would.”

“Shut up, you don’t know me.” You said like a kid.

Seokjin looked down at his beer with the faintest hint of a smile before quietly saying, “I’m getting there.”

A waiter stopped beside the table before you could say anything. “Can I get you two anything else? Dessert, maybe?”

You instinctively shook your head. “I’m okay.” You glanced at Jin and he looked at you.

“You sure?”

“I don’t really have a sweet tooth.”

“I do.” He looked back at the waiter. “We’ll share one.”

You blinked. “You don’t have to—”

“I know.” He smiled. “But I want cheesecake. You said you like the strawberry one, right?”

“Yeah, but—”

“I think dessert is always better with company.”

You laughed, accepting defeat. “I can’t argue with that.”

“Good.”

The cheesecake arrived a few minutes later with two forks. Seokjin ended up stealing exactly two small bites while you finished the rest while he insisted that if he was ordering dessert anyway, someone should help him justify it.

And by the time the plates had been cleared away, neither of you had noticed that the music inside the restaurant had grown quieter. It wasn’t until a chair scraped across the floor nearby that you looked around. The staff had started stacking the empty tables near the windows. Someone was wiping down the counter, another waiter was rolling silverware into napkins. You checked your phone. 10:54 p.m.

“We’ve been here for a while.”

Seokjin followed your gaze before looking down at the beer still sitting in front of him. He laughed. “I don’t think I’ve touched this in twenty minutes.”

You looked at the glass. “Longer. It’s definitely warm.”

“It probably is.”

“You should finish it.”

“I probably should.” Instead, he took the smallest sip imaginable before setting it back down exactly where it’d been.

You smiled to yourself. He wasn’t trying very hard but you weren’t about to complain. You were hoping he never finished that beer. You wanted to stay longer with him either way. Even if the restaurant closed at 11pm…. But the fantasy broke because few minutes later one of the waiters approached with the bill tucked neatly inside a black folder.

Seokjin reached for it before you even realized it had been set on the table. “I’ve got it.”

You looked up. “I took most of the dessert so I definitely should—” You reached for your wallet.

He shook his head. “You can get the next one.” The words came out so naturally that neither of you reacted immediately. He paid quickly with his card before looking at you with a small smile. “Although I’ll fight you again next time.”

Something warm settled somewhere beneath your ribs. “I can live with that.”

As you walked toward the door together, he stopped briefly near the counter where a small glass bowl filled with individually wrapped mints sat beside the register. He picked one up, unwrapped it as the two of you stepped outside and laughed quietly when he caught you watching him. “What?”

“Nothing.”

He smiled, shaking his head as he popped it into his mouth. “I just don’t like leaving restaurants smelling like beer.”

You stared at him for a second. “That’s oddly considerate.”

Did he really remember all you said? You were definitely making him up. He couldn’t be real.

“I’ve always done it.” He slipped his hands into the pockets of his jacket as the two of you started walking down the quiet street. “Which way are you parked?”

“I’m not.”

“You took a taxi?”

“I walked. Its only about twenty minutes.”

Jin looked ahead for a second before nodding once. “Then I’ll walk you.”

“You don’t have to.”

“I know,” he shrugged. His answer was immediate, almost matter-of-fact. “I’d like to. I live close this neighborhood anyway.”

You smiled despite yourself. “Okay.”

The streets had quieted considerably by then, the warmth of the evening lingering even as the city settled into the slower rhythm that only seemed to exist after ten o’clock. You walked side by side without rushing, continuing the same conversation you’d been having inside as though leaving the restaurant hadn’t interrupted it at all. You realized, somewhere between laughing about the worst movies either of you had ever paid to see and debating whether breakfast food should be acceptable at any hour of the day, that talking to him never felt like work.

By the time your apartment building came into view, you almost wished it were another ten minutes away. “So…” you said, slowing to a stop outside the entrance. “Thanks for walking me home.”

“Of course.”

“And thanks for dinner.”

“Don’t even mention it.” For a brief second, neither of you moved. Then he smiled. “I’ll see you soon.”

“I hope so.”

“You will.”

He said it with such quiet certainty that it didn’t even occur to you to question it. You watched him disappear back down the street before finally heading upstairs. It wasn’t until you were brushing your teeth later that night that the entire evening replayed itself in your mind.

The conversation. The strawberry cheesecake, the warm beer he’d barely touched because he’d been too busy talking to you. The mint he took after. The way he’d said the next one as though another dinner between the two of you was already the most obvious thing in the world.

You still couldn’t tell if Jin liked you. Not in the way you wanted him to. He was still frustratingly impossible to read, still so effortlessly kind that every thoughtful gesture came with another explanation you could use to convince yourself not to overthink it. Maybe he walked everyone home, maybe he paid for everyone when he was feeling generous. Maybe he remembered everyone’s favorite dessert, maybe he was gentle enough to know what the other person dislike. Maybe this was simply who he was. But lying in bed that night, staring at the ceiling with a smile you couldn’t quite get rid of, you admitted something to yourself that you hadn’t been brave enough to say out loud before.

Whether he liked you or not had almost become secondary. Because somewhere along the way, without even noticing exactly when it had happened, you’d stopped looking forward to seeing him but you started missing him.

——————————

By the time May rolled around, seeing Jin had stopped feeling like an event. It had happened so gradually that neither of you could have pointed to the exact moment things changed. One dinner became another, then someone suggested drinks after work one Thursday, a birthday turned into brunch the following weekend, and before long your names simply started appearing together in plans without either of you having to ask. If someone created a group chat to organize something, you already knew there was a good chance the other person’s profile picture would be somewhere near the top.

Somewhere in between all of that, phone calls had quietly become part of your routine too. It had started innocently enough. One evening he’d called because he couldn’t remember the name of a restaurant you’d recommended a few weeks earlier. Another time you rang him while walking home because you’d spent twenty minutes trying to decide between two birthday gifts for a friend and wanted a second opinion. Then, somehow, those practical conversations turned into hour-long calls that had very little to do with why either of you had picked up the phone in the first place.

You’d tell yourself you only had five minutes. An hour later you were somehow debating whether cereal counted as dinner, arguing over which city had the worst airports in Europe or listening to Jin explain, in alarming detail, why he believed every household should own at least three different frying pans.

“You don’t need three,” you’d laughed one night, curled up on your sofa with your laptop forgotten beside you. “No normal person owns three.”

“You own twelve mugs,” he fought back.

“Mugs are different.”

“How?”

“Each one has a purpose. They hold memories.”

He’d been quiet for exactly two seconds before laughing so hard you could barely understand what he was trying to say. “They hold coffee.”

“And memories.”

“I’ll pray for whoever has to move house with you one day.”

“I’ll make them carry the mugs.”

“You’ll have to marry someone very patient.”

“I know.”

There had been a tiny pause after that, neither of you had acknowledged it. Then the conversation had simply moved on. Moments like that happened more often now, little sentences that accidentally wandered somewhere dangerously close to something bigger before one of you quietly steered them back toward safer ground.

It was strangely comfortable, enough that, when one of your friends suggested meeting for drinks after work on Friday, you didn’t even think twice before sending Jin the details.

You: we’re at Kaqwi bar around 8 if ur free

Jin: I’ll be there :)

The smiley face shouldn’t have made your heart react the way it did.

The bar wasn’t particularly busy when you arrived, but it filled quickly as the evening went on. Music hummed softly beneath conversations, the terrace outside was crowded with people escaping the lingering starting of summer heat, and inside your group had somehow managed to claim one of the larger booths before anyone else could steal it.

You were already halfway through telling a story about one of your clients showing up to a fitting wearing two completely different shoes when Jin finally appeared. He apologized to everyone for being late before sliding into the empty space beside you like it was second nature. “Traffic?”

You looked at him. He nodded dramatically. “And one very determined taxi driver.”

“Well, you survived.”

“Barely.”

“You look alright.”

“I’ve been through a lot.”

“Oh, please.” You rolled your eyes. “You texted me from the car saying you were buying chips because you were hungry.”

Jin looked genuinely offended. “I can have two problems at once.”

The people sitting across from you laughed. You glanced at Jin, unable to stop smiling. Three months ago you would’ve hesitated before teasing him. Now it came naturally. He teased you back just as easily too. He looked at everyone else. “Do you see what I deal with?”

One of your friends laughed. “You two sound married.”

You nearly choked on your drink, trying really miserably not to blush. Jin, somehow, stayed completely composed. “I think married people argue less.”

“Oh, definitely less,” you agreed.

“They eventually get tired.”

“We’re nowhere near that stage.”

“I wasn’t aware there were stages.”

“There are.” You nodded thoughtfully. Nobody took the conversation seriously and neither did you, moving to the next subject and pretending that you haven’t been daydreaming about him for the last couple weeks…. At least until you noticed that he’d stolen three fries from your plate while arguing. “You’ve been eating my fries this entire time?!”

“…Have I?” He said while grabbing another one.

“Yes. You’ve eaten half my fries. You didn’t even order anything!.”

“I genuinely didn’t notice,” he lied. “I thought they were ours.”

“There is no ‘ours. You owe me fries.”

“I’ll buy you fries.”

“I don’t want replacement fries.”

“Do you want me to throw up and give them to you then?”

“You’re disgusting.”

He smiled to himself. “I know.”

You stared at him for a second. It was becoming a problem. A genuine, actual problem. Because somewhere over the last few weeks you’d become frighteningly good at recognizing all the tiny expressions nobody else seemed to notice. The smile he did when he was trying not to laugh, the one where he ducked his head slightly whenever someone complimented him. The way he’d absentmindedly roll up the sleeves of his shirt whenever he got comfortable somewhere. How he listened with his entire attention, never looking over someone’s shoulder to see if another conversation was more interesting.

None of those things should’ve been attractive. And yet your brain had apparently decided they were the most charming habits any human being had ever possessed. It was honestly becoming ridiculous. You caught yourself watching him while someone else spoke, noticing the way he laughed with his whole face, the little crease that appeared beside one eye, the way he always pushed his empty glass a few centimeters away before leaning forward whenever he got interested in a conversation.

He wasn’t even doing anything, he was just existing. There were moments— small, completely insignificant moments— when you’d look at him and genuinely wonder if your body was capable of handling much more of this before simply giving up altogether. He was just so handsome and he got more prettier everytime you looked at him. He’d looked at you across a crowded table while stealing your fries and smiled like he already knew you’d forgive him. It was embarrassing, you’d never been this gone over anyone before.

The worst part was that nothing about it felt obsessive in the loud, dramatic way people usually described crushes. It was quieter than that. It lived in all the little things. You wanted to see him everyday, you wanted to spend time with him and talk to him almost every second. You liked seeing him even if your body went immediately into an intolerable nervous breakdown because he was so annoyingly handsome. It was frustrating.

As the evening stretched on, people naturally split into smaller conversations, the table growing louder without ever becoming chaotic. Someone suggested another round of drinks, someone else started planning a weekend trip that would almost certainly never happen, and at some point you found yourself sitting slightly turned toward Jin, the two of you talking while the rest of the table carried on around you.

“So…” you said, tracing absentminded circles through the condensation on your glass, “next month.”

He nodded slowly. “Next month.”

“The tour.”

“Yeah.”

“You finally sound excited.” You pushed him slightly with your shoulder. “How’s it going?”

He let out a quiet breath through his nose. “My legs hurt.”

You laughed. “That’s your review? I expected something more profound, Seokjin.”

“I’ll save the profound thoughts for next week.”

“You don’t have any.”

“I probably don’t.” For a moment, he watched the people around the table before looking back at you. “I am looking forward to it, though. I just…” He searched for the words. “It’s strange.”

“What is?”

“I’ve gotten used to being here.”

You tilted your head slightly. “Home?”

He nodded. “And…” He smiled. “…To seeing everyone.”

You knew he meant the group, even if he was only looking at you. So why did your stomach still flip? Well, you couldn’t control your reaction very easily. “Well,” you said lightly, “we’ll survive. You’ll be back before you know it.”

“I hope so.”

“You’ll call?”

“I will.”

“You better.”

“I was planning to.”

“You can tell me all about your glamorous airport meals.”

“They’re never glamorous.”

“I know.”

“And you can complain about work.”

“I always complain about work.”

“I know.”

You smiled. “See? Nothing changes.”

He smiled back, though there was something softer about it this time. “I guess not.”

Even surrounded by everyone else, the thought settled quietly between you. Next month would be different. And for the first time since meeting him, you realized there would soon be weeks where seeing Jin wouldn’t simply be a matter of waiting until the next weekend hangout. You’d actually have to miss him. The realization sat surprisingly heavy in your chest. You hid it behind another joke, another laugh, another stolen fry from his plate this time, but as you watched him throw his head back laughing because you’d finally managed to get revenge, one completely unhelpful thought echoed through your mind.

You’re in so much trouble. Because if you already felt like this now… You couldn’t imagine what a month apart was going to do to you.

——————————

The strange thing about missing someone wasn’t that one dramatic morning you woke up and suddenly realized two months had felt unbearably long. Instead, it settled quietly into your routine until one day you noticed you were reaching for your phone before anything interesting happened because you already knew who you’d want to tell first.

The first week after Jin left for tour had been easier than you’d expected. You’d both been busy enough that the time difference and impossible schedules almost worked in your favor. If he finished a show just as you were leaving the office, you’d call while walking home. If you happened to be awake when he landed somewhere new, he’d send you a blurry photo from the airport with a single complaint about the coffee. There were days when your conversations lasted forty minutes and others when they barely stretched past five, but somehow neither of you seemed bothered by it. The expectation wasn’t that you’d always have time; it was simply that, sooner or later, one of you would hear from the other.

Then Fashion Week arrived with its usual lack of mercy.

Your calendar became a wall of color-coded appointments, garment fittings, showroom visits and dinners with clients that somehow always ran longer than anyone intended. You spent more time inside black cars than in your own apartment, learned to survive on coffee and protein bars tucked into your handbag, and answered emails in elevators because they were sometimes the only quiet place you could find.

One evening, somewhere between a fitting that had overrun by an hour and a last-minute venue change for a presentation, your phone buzzed in the pocket of your blazer.

Jin: Are you alive?

You: Debatable.

His reply came almost immediately.

Jin: That’s not very reassuring.

You: Fashion Week.

Jin: Good point.

You laughed softly to yourself while stepping into the back of a waiting car.

You: What are you doing awake?

Jin: Airport

You: Again?

Jin: Again

The conversation drifted from there, as it always seemed to. He complained about delayed boarding, you complained about a designer deciding fifteen minutes before a campaign shoot that he no longer liked the original styling direction, and somehow twenty minutes disappeared before either of you realized you’d both reached your destinations.

That became the rhythm of the following weeks. He called from hotel rooms that all looked vaguely identical no matter which country he happened to be in. You answered from backstage corridors, quiet taxis or empty office kitchens long after everyone else had gone home. Sometimes you talked about work. More often you talked about absolutely nothing.

One night he spent almost fifteen minutes trying to convince you that cereal counted as a perfectly acceptable dinner after ten o’clock. “It absolutely doesn’t,” you insisted, balancing your phone between your shoulder and your ear while searching your apartment for clean pajamas.

“It does if you’re tired.”

“That’s not how nutrition works.”

“It does for me.”

There was something strangely comforting about those conversations. You’d never imagined that spending so much time talking to someone who wasn’t physically there could make them feel even more present in your everyday life. You started recognizing the sounds in the background before he mentioned where he was, could tell whether he was tired just from the way he said hello, and without consciously trying, both of you began remembering the smallest details about each other’s days.

By the middle of the second month, it felt unusual not to hear his voice. Which was precisely why your eyebrows lifted when his name appeared on your screen one Tuesday afternoon while you were standing outside a showroom in Paris. You answered almost immediately. “Hi.”

“Hi.” There was a pause. “Are you busy?.”

“I little.”

“So am I.”

You smiled. “Then why did you call?”

“Why did you answer?”

“Touché,” you giggled a little. “I’ve been working nonstop for this fashion week events. But I don’t know what’s worse the people or the heat in Paris—”

“Wait, wait…” His voice changed completely, a little hurried and surprised. “You’re where?”

“Paris.”

“Right now?”

You frowned. “…Yes?”

He stumbled into his words. “I’m in Paris.”

You stopped walking. “…No, you’re not.” You blinked at absolutely nothing. “I thought you were in Amsterdam.”

“That was yesterday.”

“I’ve completely lost track of your schedule.”

“I think I have too.”

You laughed. “So you’re actually here?”

“I’m literally looking at the Eiffel Tower.”

“No way.”

“What about you?”

“I’m near Place Vendôme.”

He laughed, he sounded happy. “I can’t believe we didn’t know. How long are you going to be here?”

“I leave the night after tomorrow.”

“So do I.” There was a small pause, one that somehow felt different. “Do you have any free time?”

You smiled before he had even finished asking. “I actually do.” You checked your calendar. “I’ve got one meeting tomorrow morning, then I’m free after lunch.”

“So am I.”

“…Seriously?” You laughed. “That’s almost suspicious.”

“I know.” He hesitated for just a second. “So… Do you want to hang out?”

Your answer came so quickly that it surprised even you. “Yeah.”

“I was thinking maybe Versailles?”

You looked down the street, smiling to yourself. “I haven’t been since I was seventeen.”

“Perfect. I’ll meet you there then

The rest of the afternoon disappeared in a blur of meetings you barely remembered.

The following day was one of those rare Paris afternoons where the sky seemed almost impossibly blue, the late summer sun soft enough that walking outside actually felt pleasant instead of exhausting. By the time your train pulled into Versailles, you had changed out of your work clothes and into something far more comfortable— a simple summer dress, comfortable enough for hours of walking but still presentable enough that your professional instincts didn’t entirely panic.

You arrived first, for the first time ever. You wandered toward the entrance, watching groups of tourists gather beneath colorful umbrellas held high by guides speaking half a dozen different languages. Families posed for photos in front of the gates, children complained about the heat, and somewhere nearby someone was playing violin badly enough that it somehow added to the charm rather than taking away from it. You checked your phone.

Jin: Two minutes.

You smiled. Exactly three minutes later, you spotted him. He was walking across the courtyard with one hand tucked into the pocket of a pair o white summer linen pants, an oversized white linen shirt shifting gently in the breeze as he looked around searching for you. A pair of sunglasses rested on top of his head, pushing his dark hair back from his forehead, and for one completely unfair moment you simply stood there watching him weave through the crowd. He was just so pretty you wanted to eat him whole.

It wasn’t until he caught sight of you that you started walking again. His face brightened immediately.

“There you are.” You both laughed at saying exactly the same thing.

For a second, neither of you seemed entirely sure what people who had spent two months talking almost every day but hadn’t actually seen each other in person were supposed to do. Then you stepped forward first and hug him, he held you back with easy, his hands wrapping around your shoulders and pushing you a little too hard to his chest. You giggle a little from the action, his broad shoulders and back feeling too good against your body and arms.

The hug lasted just a fraction longer than a polite greeting without either of you acknowledging it. “You look tired,” he said as you pulled away, taking his time to look at your face without fully taking his arms off of you.

“I was going to say the same thing.”

“I’ve been rehearsing.”

“I’ve been surviving Fashion Week.”

“So we’re both victims.”

“I think we are.”

You smiled. “I’ve missed you.”

The words were so simple that they slipped past you very easily. Your heart gave one completely unreasonable thud when he answered immediately. “I’ve missed you too.” For a second, all the noise around you seemed to fade into the background. Then someone brushed past with a stroller, breaking whatever strange little bubble you’d accidentally stepped into. Jin cleared his throat lightly. “So…” He held up two tickets. “I may have already bought the audio guides with translation.”

You laughed. “You came prepared”

“You said one time that you actually like listening to museum tours.”

“I do,” you smiled softly, your heart beating so loud you almost thought he would be able to hear it. “Thanks for remembering.”

“Of course.” He handed you one of the devices. “Although I figured we’d probably spend half the time talking anyway.”

“You know us surprisingly well.”

He rubbed the back of his neck, smiling sheepishly. “I would hope so.”

And somehow, within less than five minutes of seeing each other, it already felt like no time had passed at all.

The palace unfolded around you one room at a time, each grander than the last, but after the first few minutes you realized you were paying remarkably little attention to the gold ceilings or painted frescoes the audio guide seemed so determined to explain. Not because they weren’t beautiful, they absolutely were. It was simply difficult to concentrate on eighteenth-century French history when Jin was walking beside you after two months apart, occasionally stopping to look at a painting with the kind of genuine curiosity that always made him tilt his head ever so slightly, as though he was trying to understand not just what he was looking at, but why someone had chosen to create it in the first place. He looked like an angel every time your eyes wandered to his figure.

“Do you understand what they’re saying or I’m just that bad at the language?” he asked after removing one side of his headset.

You looked at him with amusement. “I’ve listened to several words… I heard ‘Louis.’”

He laughed. “I don’t think that narrows it down.”

“There were numbers too.”

“You’ve learned nothing.”

“I’ve learned the ceilings are expensive.”

You smiled to yourself. Talking to him still felt exactly the way it had over the phone, except somehow easier. There was no delay before one of you answered, no crackling signal, no wondering whether the other person had gotten distracted by work or simply lost reception. Every joke landed immediately, every smile came without having to imagine it on the other end of the line, and every now and then one of you would point at something entirely ridiculous just to hear what the other would say about it.

“I think I’d get lost in here,” you said as you stepped into another enormous gallery.

“You absolutely would.”

“You agreed with that a little too quickly.”

He laughed at you but didn’t say anything else, and the sound echoed faintly through the room before dissolving beneath the quiet voices of the other visitors. The more you walked, the more obvious it became that something had shifted between you over the last two months. The conversation no longer needed a beginning. There was no catching up in the traditional sense because neither of you had really disappeared from the other’s life. You already knew how rehearsals had been going, which city had unexpectedly become his favorite stop on tour, how exhausted you’d been during Milan Fashion Week and even what you ate last week. Instead, you filled in the little gaps. The expressions that texts couldn’t capture, the stories that were funnier in person, the tiny details that somehow never made it into phone calls. And at one time you laughed so hard you had to steady yourself against his arm for a second before realizing what you’d done. Your hand lingered for the briefest moment against the fabric of his sleeve. His bicep was surprisingly strong and warm. You pulled it back almost immediately.

“Sorry.”

“For what?”

“I practically used you as furniture.”

“I don’t mind.”

He said it so casually that it almost made it worse. You nodded once, pretending to be far more interested in the next doorway than in the fact your pulse had suddenly become embarrassingly noticeable.

The palace gradually gave way to the gardens, where the afternoon sun spread across endless stretches of perfectly trimmed hedges and fountains that glittered beneath the light. Compared to the crowded galleries inside, everything outside felt slower. There was more space between people, more room to wander without constantly stepping aside for another tour group. You fell into step beside him and somewhere along the gravel path your shoulders brushed. Neither of you moved away. You kept talking and he did too. It happened again a few minutes later when the path narrowed between two rows of hedges, your fingers moved a little trying weakly to catch his so he would take the hint. But again, nobody acknowledged it.

It was ridiculous how aware you had become of every tiny point of contact. You wondered if he noticed, and you also wondered if he didn’t. He had made time for you despite living on the opposite side of the world half the year. He called, he listened, he laughed at jokes that weren’t particularly funny simply because you were the one telling them. And yet… He’d never crossed that invisible line, not once. Which left you trapped in the world’s most exhausting guessing game. Maybe he was just wonderful and charming with all people... which, honestly, you didn’t like.

As you rounded another corner, he reached out without thinking and lightly touched the middle of your back, guiding you aside as a large tour group swept past in the opposite direction. “There you go.”His hand disappeared almost as quickly as it had arrived. You tried not to think about the fact you could still feel it. You thought how his fingers would feel around your waist or touching your bare skin.

“This place is busier than I remembered,” you managed.

“It’s because everyone had the same idea we did and decided to come on the nicest afternoon of the week.”

“This was poor planning.”

“It was.”

You smiled. “I’d still choose today.”

He looked at you. “Me too.”

You looked away before your face had the chance to betray you.

By late afternoon the palace had begun to empty, the crowds thinning just enough that you could finally stop lingering behind slower groups. You’d walked for hours without really noticing it, your conversations interrupted only occasionally by the audio guide insisting on explaining another room or another portrait neither of you had been paying enough attention to appreciate.

Your feet, however, had started protesting. “I need five minutes,” you admitted with a laugh as you sat down on a stone bench overlooking one of the fountains.

“Tired?”

“I’ve been standing in heels for all week.”

“You’re wearing sandals.”

“For the first time all week.” Jin smiled quietly before sitting beside you. For a few moments neither of you said anything. Not because there wasn’t anything left to say, quite the opposite, the silence had simply stopped needing to be filled. You watched families wander through the gardens, children racing one another across the paths while parents unsuccessfully attempted to keep up. “I forgot how nice this is,” you said. “I’m glad we came.”

He turned slightly toward you. “So am I.”

Something about the way he said it settled softly in your chest. He looked at you for a second longer in silence and you wondered if he was really thinking the same as you. Eventually you stood again, deciding to make your way back through the palace before heading toward the station. But halfway there you stopped abruptly.

“I need the bathroom.”

He nodded immediately. “I think there was one near the entrance.”

“There was.” You looked ahead. “Okay seemed like everyone else also wanted to use the bathroom.” The line stretched embarrassingly far down the corridor. You sighed. “Of course.”

“I’ll wait.”

You glanced at the queue again before groaning. “This is going to take forever.” Jin looked around thoughtfully, his eyes wandering down a quieter side hallway. “What?”

“I might know another one.”

“You do?”

“I saw a staff sign earlier.”

“You think you saw one?”

He smiled. “Come on.”

Before you had the chance to question him further, he reached for your hand almost absentmindedly, weaving your fingers together with his as he led you down the quieter corridor. Your entire brain stopped functioning. He was holding your hand. Just like that. As though it were the most natural thing in the world. As if you hadn’t been throwing hints all those hours so he would do it.

You stared at your joined hands for half a second before looking back up, praying he couldn’t somehow hear your heartbeat. “You realize,” you said, trying very hard to sound normal, “if we get caught wandering through staff corridors, we’ll be in big problems.”

“Isn’t that more fun?”

You both started giggling out of nowhere, trying —and failing— to keep your voices down as you wandered through the quiet hallway. He checked one door that was locked. Then another one that was a storage. “This is going well.”

“Just trust me.” He looked at you with a grin that made it impossible not smile. A few steps later he stopped in front of another door. “This has to be it.”

“You’ve said that twice.”

“I feel better about this one.”

“You’ve become overconfident.” He reached for the handle, still locked. You shook your head before laying back in the door. “I would be already in the front of the line.”

“I was close with this one.”

“You were nowhere near.”

You were still smiling when he looked back at you. His smile slowly fading as he saw you against that door. Suddenly you were seeing a face of him that you haven’t seen ever. Your smile slowly faded too as he took a step closer. The hallway around you had gone unexpectedly quiet, the distant sounds of the palace reduced to little more than an indistinct murmur somewhere beyond the walls. Neither of you spoke. “I’ve missed your face,” Seokjin admitted in a low voice.

The words were so quiet that, for a second, you almost wondered if you’d imagined them. You looked up at him, and for the first time since you’d met him, you weren’t trying to figure him out anymore. It was all there, written across his face so plainly that you almost laughed at yourself for every hour you’d spent wondering whether he liked you or whether he was simply the nicest man alive. He looked at you the way you’d been looking at him for months. Like you were the only person in the room, like he couldn’t quite believe you were standing there. His thumb absentmindedly brushed against the back of your hand, still intertwined with his, as he took another small step closer until there was barely any space left between you. “I’ve…” He smiled to himself, almost embarrassed by what he was about to admit. “I’ve been dreaming about doing something all day after months of not seeing you.”

You tilted your head. “What?”

His eyes dropped, just for a second, to your mouth. Then back to your eyes. Your entire body forgot how to function. “…This.” Your heart lurched so violently you were convinced he had to hear it. It wasn’t beating anymore, it was galloping. Somewhere in the back of your mind you thought, completely irrationally, this is it. This is actually how you’re gonna die. You’re gonna drop dead if he kissed you.

He hesitated for only a heartbeat, giving you every opportunity to move away. Instead, you found yourself closing the last inch between you. His lips met yours softly, almost carefully, as though he’d imagined this moment so many times that he was afraid reality wouldn’t live up to it. But it did, it definitely did. The second you kissed him, every thought that had been racing through your head for the last two months simply… disappeared. There was no overthinking, no wondering if he liked you anymore, not trying to read between the lines of every text message or every smile. There was only him, his warm hands sliding from your cheeks to every part of your body until they settled on your waist. The man you’d spent months convincing yourself not to fall too hard for was kissing you back with the same certainty, pressing you against a bathroom door that couldn’t be open. Like he wanted nothing else to do that for the rest of his life.

When you finally pulled away, it was only enough to catch your breath before he smiled— that same shy smile you’d loved from the very beginning. You didn’t say much, you giggled into each others mouth, the sound echoing softly through the empty corridor, before he kissed you again. This one was slower and less hesitant. As though the first kiss had answered every question either of you had been too afraid to ask.

Your fingers found the front of his linen shirt almost without thinking, bunching the fabric lightly as he smiled against your lips. His hand romearirng around your body like he couldn’t push you any closer to him. “I think,” you whispered while he kissed your jaw, “we should— we should probably leave before someone catches us.”

“Probably.” Neither of you moved. “…Definitely.” Still neither of you moved. Seokjin laughed quietly. “I don’t really want to.”

“Neither do I.”

He bit down your neck and your hands sinked into his hair to push him a little so you could see his pretty face. You gave him little pecks on his big lips as his eyes narrowed, dark pupils looking at you brightly. But he still looked at you with that same soft expression he’d been wearing all afternoon.

“You should come back to the hotel with me.” Your stomach immediately filled with butterflies. He continued before you had the chance to answer. “You don’t have to leave tonight if you don’t want to.” His smile widened just a little. “Honestly… you should spend the night there.” He paused, looking almost amused by his own train of thought. “And the next hotel if you want.” You raised an eyebrow. “And the one after that.”

You couldn’t help laughing. “Jin…”

“I’m serious.” He kissed your lips again. “I like having you around.” He shrugged as though that explained everything. “I think I’d like having you around in every city.”

For a moment, you simply stared at him. If he kept talking like that, you really were going to end up following him across Europe and staying with him… well, forever. You forced yourself to recover just enough to tease him. “Hm…” You pretended to think about it. “I don’t know.”

He frowned slightly. “No? Too fast?”

“I think…” You smiled innocently. “you’d have to ask me on a date first.”

He looked genuinely confused. “…A date?” You hummed and for the first time he took a little step back to looked better at your face, hands still over your sides. There was a beat of silence before he blinked, really unsure. “I thought we were dating.”

You stared at him confused. “What?”

“I mean…” He rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly looking adorably uncertain. “We call each other every day.”

“I call all my friends.”

“We’ve been having dinner together.”

“With friends.”

“I walked you home.”

“I thought you liked to walked.”

“I really don’t.” He looked at you as though the conclusion was obvious. “I thought we’d been dating for weeks… Or, at least, I don’t know, seeing each other.”

You looked at him so deadpan your face almost froze. “Are you stupid?”

His expression softened into a grin. He took your hand again, squeezing it gently. “Okay, okay. My bad. Let me start again… Would you like to go on a date with me?”

You looked at him, at the man who had somehow turned months of stolen conversations and phone calls into the easiest love you’d ever known, even when distance could have been an end. So you just smiled so widely your cheeks already hurt.

He was actually really stupid. “I thought we already were in one.”

series taglist — @tina-20 @anabeatrizal-blog1 @yawnzshit @jksusawife @djcaughtnamjooning @crimsonp3ak @nestarasikila @lovingkoalaface @iamsodonewithlemons @motheraiya55 @elodieous

[inthelow]

permanent taglist (1): @lovingkoalaface @dna-black-and-blue @hoemeprazole @deedeeps @taegiekookk @gukihoney @sftlrmin @libbieminie @savorghost @moonprincesskoo @yooforeaa @kelsyx33 @jjkszn @st4rbbg @senaqsstuff @connnn @rpwprpwprpwprw @llallaaa @lovelye79 @jjkkkk15 @nellbyy @jkmommymilkies @chaerinmin @albascardigan @wvndkoo @pradaheeseung @annyeongbitch7 @tastykookoonut @whoa-jo @zsazshiiing @taylorluvation @parapiop7 @j0cgr0c @elinaki92 @osakis-gf @mar-lo-pap @angeleclipsey @jkayy-prodian @bjoriis @sweetnspicyworld @sadiayn @kookdollia @jcnggukie @imjustcrabby

[bratkook]

two point five. (m) jjk.

pairing. handyman!jungkook x reader genre. smut word count. 21.3k warnings. jungkook is very charming and very sweet, oral sex, face riding, slight size kink, unprotected sex, lotsa messy kisses, multiple orgasms summary. who would have thought booking a handyman from an app would lead to this. sure, you wish he’d mount you instead of just your television, but you could totally be friends. right? note. this story was born from an ask game (a long time ago im so sorry) so thank you to the angel that gave me the fic title and all you cuties for helping me flesh out our handyman through asks hehe i hope you like the introduction to him™ because i’m sure there will be more of him soon hehe. also thank you to my angel bby loml @kithtaehyung​ for making the most beautiful banner ever ily!!<3

The sound of your power drill fills up the space of your apartment, the whirring coming to a quick stop only for the laughter of your friend to follow. There’s a brief moment where you forget she’s not in the room with you, actually watching you attempt to drill holes into your new apartment instead of in her home in a completely different state. The small ache in your chest is still felt when you remember this, not yet accustomed to being so far from home, but you push it away as you stare down at your device and see her face on the screen propped up a few inches away from you. 

“I don’t think you know what you’re doing,” she laughs, and although you agree you simply wave her off with a smile. 

“I hung up that tiny mirror the other day—oh, and that shelf!” You point to the side, staring at the shelf you had placed near the kitchen. Sure it was a little crooked, and you’re not exactly sure how much weight you could get away with placing on it, but it was only meant for cute decorations so really, you didn’t do a bad job. 

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[zetaares]

summer love | j.jk

during a trip with your friends in brazil, you decide to go out to a nightclub, but who would have thought you’d meet the hottest man out there?

pairing: musician!jungkook x law student!reader

genre: smut with plot, strangers to friends, friends to lovers, part 1???

warnings: explicit sexual content, rough & passionate sex, dom!jk, light choking, fingering, shower sex, female oral sex (eating out), squirting, standing/bench sex, riding, pull-out method (mention of condoms!!), size difference, jk has got a curved veiny dick, mentions of an ex-boyfriend, emotional confusion, eventual love confession.

summary: while staying in rio de janeiro, a girls' night out leads you straight into the hands of a hot stranger who wrecks you for the night. what started as a wild vacation hookup turns into something neither of you can walk away from when fate brings you back together in LA a year later.

part 2: here

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“i don’t know about this dress,” your friend sophie said, checking herself out in the mirror.

“i like it. it looks good on you, soph,” andrea replied as she fixed her makeup, sitting in front of the shiny mirror in the hotel room.

you were having the holiday of your life in brazil with your best friends, what else could you ask for? after your ex-boyfriend broke up with you months before this trip, it had messed with your head. you weren’t even sure if you could get out of your house, let alone travel outside the country. he had confessed that he wasn’t sure about the two of you and that he hated himself for it, that he didn’t want to break up, blah blah. truth is? he cheated on you. no wonder he was so unsure!

“y/n,” sophie said, snapping you out of your thoughts. “girl, you look stunning! why don’t you try on my necklace?”

she walked toward you as she sat on the edge of one of the matrimonial beds, handing you a beautiful golden necklace that shone against your sunkissed skin. brazil’s sun was no joke.

“oh wow,” you started, looking at yourself in the mirror where andrea was doing her makeup. “it’s really beautiful, soph. thank you!”

“oh, it’s nothing! come on, ready to take some photos?” she asked, turning up the volume on the speaker as loud music resonated through the large hotel room.

“yeeees!” andrea squealed, jumping out of her seat and pulling you all into a group hug, everyone bouncing with excitement to be there.

you took some photos and posted them to your instagram story, just like your friends did. once you were all ready, you spritzed on some perfume and headed outside where your uber was waiting.

the ride made you feel like you were in a movie, windows rolled down, your straightened hair a mess in the strong wind, but it was perfect. you could even smell the ocean from copacabana’s beautiful beach. it amazed you how many people were still out at 1:30 am. you had eaten dinner at the hotel lounge before leaving.

the driver was hilarious, trying to talk to the three of you in broken english, but thankfully you knew how to speak the language. he even let andrea connect her bluetooth to the car stereo and blast loud music. you were so thankful for your life and your friends in that moment, and for once, you could let go of the heavy thoughts.

⊹⋰𓇼⋆⸝·⸝⋆꙳⊹⋰ ⊹⋰𓇼⋆⸝·⸝⋆꙳⊹⋰

there was a long queue to get into the club, with people chatting everywhere, but luckily the line moved fast and in less than ten minutes you were inside. the place was huge, a three-story building. sophie had managed to get vip tickets so it wouldn't be too crowded. the weather was insanely hot, so paying a bit extra for your own booths to dance and enjoy freely was worth it.

you went up the stairs and settled down in the area one of the hosts guided you to: two black leather couches facing a low table with a bucket filled to the brim with ice and vodka in the center. you looked at each other, and as if the music held some sort of magic, you automatically started moving your bodies to the brazilian rhythm. you swore those instruments awoke something inside you. you were dancing like crazy while andrea and sophie danced alongside you with big smiles.

at some point in the night, you couldn't even tell where you were standing. you took your sweet time taking in your surroundings. every single guy was so hot. andrea was already gone, probably making out with a handsome local, while sophie danced next to you, holding your hips while you both sipped on caipirinhas. you kept looking around, feeling like an absolute goddess. plenty of men were already staring and smiling at you, and you smiled right back.

you decided to turn all the way around and that’s when you caught sight of a tall guy over your shoulder. his face was full of piercings, and he clearly wasn't a local, he looked foreign, probably asian, and ridiculously hot. before you even had time to think, he was already walking your way with a bottle of beer in hand. you smiled, and he smiled back.

“heeey,” he said, joining you and sophie, moving his shoulders to the rhythm as he took a sip from his bottle.

you gave a nervous smile, but the alcohol in your system was already working its magic. you took your last sip of the night, leaned your back against his chest, and rolled your hips to the music. he reacted instantly, wrapping one hand around your hip and leaning down into the crook of your neck.

one thing was clear: he was bold, and you loved it.

“i like the way you move,” he murmured softly in your ear with a velvety voice that made you feel like you’d go crazy. the way he smelled didn't help either.

you didn't say a word as you felt his lips press against the back of your neck while you kept moving. you loved the way a single kiss from him made you feel.

sophie quietly left the two of you alone under the guise of going to the restroom. you had tuned out your surroundings long ago, this man was driving you insane, or maybe it was just the alcohol.

turning around, you took the beer bottle from his hand and set it on the table. you ran your hands through his hair, leaned up on tiptoes, and pulled him into a kiss. his reaction was instant, he kissed you back, pulling your body flush against his in a way that drove you wild.

when you pulled apart to catch your breath, he asked, “wanna go somewhere else?”

you nodded. “yeah.”

the moment the word left your lips, he laced his fingers through yours, and you grabbed your small handbag to head out.

he led you to his car. if you were sober, you never would have gotten into a stranger’s car, especially knowing he had been drinking!

you could barely walk straight, smiling at nothing in particular, just letting things happen. he opened the passenger door of a black audi and buckled you in. you watched him walk around the front toward the driver's side. he was wearing a burgundy shirt with several buttons undone, he’d probably opened them inside the club to beat the heat.

he drove quickly, and the next thing you knew, you were in an elevator riding up to the 20th something floor of a massive hotel.

“do you live here?” you asked mid-kiss, completely lightheaded.

he chuckled and shook his head, pulling you into another deep, steamy kiss.

the elevator doors chimed open, and he guided you to his room. a massive floor-to-ceiling window overlooked the city lights below.

as soon as he shut the door behind you, he pinned you against the wall and kissed you deeply, his large hand gripping your ass under your dress. you smiled, and he grinned back.

“cm’ere,” he said, unbuckling his belt, unzipping his jeans, and sitting down on the edge of the bed.

you followed him over and straddled his lap, a leg on either side of him. your dress had hitched up, revealing your legs and the black lace underneath.

“fuck, do you feel that?” he asked. truthfully, you couldn't miss how hard he was beneath you, and it was turning you on fast.

“mhm,” you hummed, kissing his neck as you unbuttoned the rest of his shirt. in one smooth motion, he discarded it, showing off a toned torso covered in tattoos and abs.

“fuck,” you breathed out.

he grinned. “like what you see?” he laughed and lifted you effortlessly to your feet. he found the side zipper of your black dress and slowly slid it down, helping you step out of it. he took you in like a piece of art, biting his lip. stripping off the rest of his clothing, he pulled you back onto the bed with him lying on his back, leaving you on top with your chest exposed to him. “you’re so hot,” he murmured, making your mind spin.

you smiled and decided to take charge, kissing him hungrily while your hands explored his body. you could feel his hard length twitching between your folds. you grinded down against him, back and forth, your natural slickness making every slide hot and effortless.

“yeah, come on, grind on me,” he encouraged, guiding your hips with his hands.

he leaned his head back with his mouth slightly open and eyes closed, taking in every single movement. then, grabbing hold of you, he flipped you beneath him, pinning you to the mattress. he trailed kisses down from your neck to your torso, licking your nipples until you squirmed beneath him. sliding lower down your stomach, he finally reached where you were aching for him most.

you bent your knees, and he settled between your thighs. he took hold of your legs, giving you a wicked glance with his dark eyes before leaning in to suck on your clit.

“oh, fuck yeah,” you gasped, gripping his hair to guide his movement.

“you like that?” he asked, sliding his tongue inside you with long, deliberate strokes.

“y-yes, so much,” you managed to choke out.

he shifted his weight onto one arm, using his free hand to stroke your body before sliding his fingers down to join his tongue, circling your clit. how was he this good at it? it was driving you completely wild.

“fuck yes,” you whimpered, lost in the sensation.

opening your eyes briefly, you saw him smirking down at you. he worked his fingers so well that your whole body was writhing on the bed beneath him, his strength and presence were driving you crazy. he circled his fingers faster, making you shiver and cry out.

“so beautiful,” he breathed out.

when you opened your eyes again, you saw him reaching toward the nightstand for a condom. you rolled onto all fours for him, just how you liked it. hard and fast from behind.

“damn baby, already on all fours?” he chuckled, giving your rear a firm slap.

he took you right there, pounding into you until the sound of skin hitting skin filled the room, driving you out of your mind. he pulled your wrists behind your back, forcing your head down sideways onto the pillow, leaving you completely open to him.

“f-faster... hmmm,” you moaned loudly, certain the rest of the hotel guests were going to complain.

jungkook didn't hesitate. he tightened his grip on your wrists behind your back, driving into you with a relentless, punishing rhythm that made your knees tremble against the mattress. every thrust sent shockwaves through your entire body, the friction and heat mounting until you were completely breathless, clinging to the edge of the bed as the intense coil in your core finally snapped.

you let out a broken, breathless cry as your orgasm crashed over you, your inner muscles clamping down tight around him. hearing you break, jungkook growled low in his throat, his hips accelerating into a few final, deep, desperate thrusts before he came undone into the condom, buried deep inside you.

he held you tight for a moment, both of your bodies slick with sweat as your breathing slowed. pulling out, he sat on the edge of the bed to get rid of the condom before lying back down next to you and rolling onto his stomach. keeping a comfortable distance between you, you both drifted off to sleep.

⊹⋰𓇼⋆⸝·⸝⋆꙳⊹⋰ ⊹⋰𓇼⋆⸝·⸝⋆꙳⊹⋰

morning light was already streaming through the massive floor-to-ceiling windows when your eyes fluttered open. for a second, you were completely disoriented, the gentle hum of the air conditioner and the bright brazilian skyline reminding you that you weren't in your hotel room.

a quiet shift next to you brought it all rushing back.

you turned your head slowly to find him sleeping on his stomach. both of his arms were stretched up on either side of his head, his face buried deep into the plush pillow. the soft morning glare hit his back, highlighting the sharp dip of his spine, the defined muscle tone across his shoulders, and the dark ink of his tattoos sprawling over his skin. he looked impossibly relaxed, completely different from the intense, confident guy who had pinned you to the bed hours earlier.

careful not to make a sound, you slid your legs out from under the sheets. you wince smiled at the faint, dull ache between your thighs, a pleasant reminder of last night, and tip toed across the cool floor toward the bathroom, quietly shutting the door behind you.

after using the toilet, you turned on the faucet, letting the cool water wash away the lingering fog of sleep and makeup. you splashed your face, grabbed a hand towel, and began patting your skin dry.

when you looked up into the bathroom mirror, you caught his reflection standing in the doorway.

he was leaning against the frame, sleepy eyed, dark hair delightfully messy, his gray sweatpants hanging loosely on his hips.

“morning,” his voice came out deep and raspy with sleep, a small smirk playing on his lips as his dark eyes met yours in the glass.

you turned around, resting the back of your hands against the edge of the sink. “morning. sorry! did i wake you?”

“nah, but i noticed the bed was empty,” he chuckled softly, taking a slow, barefoot step into the bathroom.

you smiled, heat creeping up your neck as memories of the night before flooded back. watching him step closer, you realized something ridiculous. through all the loud music, caipirinhas, and wild heat in the club, one tiny detail had been completely skipped.

“you know...” you started, leaning back against the marble counter, “we never actually introduced ourselves. what’s your name, by the way?”

he paused, an amused glint flickering in his eyes as he closed the remaining distance between you.

“jungkook,” he said softly. he reached out, his hands naturally finding your waist, his thumbs rubbing small, warm circles against your skin. “and you?”

“y/n,” you replied, feeling an immediate spark reignite the moment his skin touched yours.

“y/n,” jungkook repeated, letting your name roll off his tongue with a low, slow cadence that made your chest tighten.

he glanced over your shoulder toward the large glass shower enclosure, then looked back down at you.

“well, y/n... i was just about to turn the shower on,” his grip on your waist tightened, pulling you an inch closer until your stomach brushed against his. “care to join me?” he said, smirking as he stepped away from you, showing off his toned, tattooed back as he turned on the shower. “i don't bite, baby,” he added, catching you running a hand over your neck as you debated his tempting offer.

fuck it, you thought. for once in your life, you were feeling free, feeling good about yourself. you felt wanted again. none of this was something you could have lived with your ex, he was trash those last few months, making you feel like you were nothing, when you were so much more. this trip was part of your journey toward loving yourself again.

you walked over to him, sliding both hands up to caress that beautiful back you were already obsessed with. leaning in, you gently rested your forehead against the warm skin between his shoulder blades. the contrast was crazy, here you were, completely bare and raw, clinging to a man whose last name you didn't even know, yet finding this weird sense of safety in his warmth. he went completely still under your touch, the steady stream of the shower filling the quiet space between you for a few seconds before he slowly turned around to face you.

“all good?” he asked softly, a bit of genuine concern in his eyes. he clearly hadn't expected something so quiet and intimate from a late-night hookup.

“yeah, yeah, it’s just...” you started, trailing off as your eyes dropped to the floor.

he reached out, his thumb gently tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear, “i think you’ve got some heavy stuff going through your head right now, am i right?”

the way he said it hit you right in the chest. he was reading you like an open book, seeing right through the brave face you’d been putting on all night. how could a complete stranger be this perceptive? it felt surreal how easily he seemed to get you without you having to explain a thing.

“i can make those thoughts go away,” he murmured, tilting your chin up until your eyes met his, searching your face for a reaction, a smile, anything.

you looked up, taking him in up close for the first time. his sleepy, hungover face was out of this world, his lips slightly parted, showing a glimpse of his teeth in a tender smile. you noticed the small moles on his skin and even his long eyelashes. you felt the warm tips of his fingers finding the hem of the oversized t-shirt he must have thrown on you last night.

you closed your eyes and slowly lifted your arms as he gently pulled the shirt over your head, the fabric smelling like him. your bare skin met the cool air of the bathroom until he closed the distance between you. you opened your eyes to find him staring down at you with an intensity that made your pulse race.

“you’re so beautiful,” he murmured, placing a hand behind your lower back to pull you flush against him.

he was being so gentle, so gentle it almost brought tears to your eyes. the way his lips traced your neck, your collarbones, and the shell of your ear made you fall for this feeling of being cared for, of being wanted. he brought his lips back to yours for a slow, unhurried kiss. there was no rush, just two strangers taking their time to feel everything.

taking a step back, he took off his grey sweatpants, revealing he had nothing on underneath. as he stepped into the shower, he held out a hand. you took it without hesitation, stepping into the warm stream as the room around you blurred, the heavy glass mirror fogging over completely.

he trapped you between his arms, your back pressed against the cool blue tiles as he kissed you again and again, the heat of the water mixing with the heat of your bodies. he slowly squatted down, trailing wet, hot kisses down your ribs and over your stomach, his lips brushing right against where you needed him most. all the thoughts in your head melted away, replaced by a desperate need. you wanted to fuck. you wanted him to fuck you.

“eat me out,” you demanded, your hands tangling in his wet hair as his grip on your ass tightened.

without wasting a single second, he parted your thighs, taking your clit into his mouth and circling it with his tongue. your body quivered against the tile. he slid two fingers inside you under the warm water, working you so sweet and deep that your knees buckled.

he stood back up, his chest heaving against yours as water slicked over his tattooed shoulders.

“turn around,” he rasped, his dark eyes fixed on yours. “let me fuck you real good.”

you obeyed, turning to rest your hands against the wide tiled ledge inside the shower, the built-in bench coming in ridiculously handy. bending your knees, you arched your back and lifted your hips for him, completely surrendered.

“ah fuck, let me grab a condom,” he muttered, his hand slipping from your hip as he prepared to step out, but you caught his forearm.

“don’t,” you said softly, a sudden flush of bashfulness hitting you because the only reason you were still on the pill was your ex. “i’m on the pill...”

he paused, his dark eyes locking onto yours through the steam. “you sure?”

you nodded.

he stepped back into the hot stream, positioning himself right behind you. you loved being taken from behind, feeling the raw strength of a man, of this man, working you so damn well. both of his hands gripped your hips as he aligned the head of his throbbing cock with your entrance. he slid all the way in with zero resistance, a dark smirk spreading across his face at how easily you took him.

“fuck, y/n, you’re so wet,” he groaned, pulling back slowly before driving back in. “hmm, yeah, so tight...” he spoke those magic words that hit your brain like a drug.

“hmm, god, i love it,” you gasped, taking the lead to roll your hips back against him, fucking yourself on his cock.

the wet slap of skin against skin camouflaged under the sound of the shower was driving you wild. you just wanted to soak in every single second, it was exactly what you needed. it was so dirty, so intoxicating that you swore you could feel yourself falling. and you were, your legs were literally giving up. sensing your knees weaken, he lifted you slightly, shifting you back onto that tiled bench. he gripped your shoulders, pounding you from behind.

“ah yeah,” he muffled, his hot breath hitting your neck as his chest pressed flush against your back. “you’re taking me so good, baby. go on,” he whispered, his hand reaching up to gather your wet hair into a messy makeshift ponytail. the pull tilted your head back, leaving your neck completely exposed as your soft whimpers echoed through the bathroom.

“hmm, harder,” you urged, and jungkook lost it. his movements became frantic, almost impossibly fast. his free hand found the front of your neck, resting there with just enough pressure to send a shockwave down your spine. “i’m close, i’m close, i’m—”

before you could finish, a wave hit you that you’d never felt in your entire life. your body buckled as you squirted, your inner muscles clamping around him in violent waves.

jungkook helped you sink fully onto the bench, letting you catch your breath as he gave himself a few quick, desperate strokes, coming with a low growl. he wiped the steam from his eyes and looked down at you, a genuine smile breaking across his face.

“that was... fucking hot y/n,” he breathed out, still trying to catch his own breath.

you felt dizzy sitting there. everything was spinning in the best way possible, that sensation was entirely new to you, so intense it barely felt real. you looked up at him and smiled, completely speechless.

“come here, let’s shower,” he said softly, washing his hands before popping open a bottle of shampoo.

you smiled, standing on shaky legs to join him under the water.

the whole thing felt crazy intimate. this was a total stranger you’d picked up at a club in a foreign country, yet here you were, sharing this quiet morning. you ended up laughing together when a bit of shampoo got into your eye, making you panic to rinse it out. jungkook laughed along, patiently helping you wash off under the stream, rubbing soap over your back and leaving a few tender kisses on your wet shoulders.

afterward, he managed to prepare you a quick breakfast. he’d picked up some fresh oranges during his stay in brazil, along with a loaf of bread from a local market. as you finished slipping into the oversized clothes he’d lent you again, you hopped up to sit on the kitchen counter and unlocked your phone for the first time since last night.

3:00 PM.

you had literally slept the entire day away. fucked in the shower, and now you were having breakfast, at 3:00 PM.

the second you dragged down your notification bar, your heart did a flip.

“oh no,” you gasped out loud.

jungkook turned around from the stove, a plate of warm toast with jam in his hands, looking at you with pure curiosity. “what?”

“15 missed calls...” you said nervously, rubbing your forehead as you quickly pulled up the group chat and typed out:

i'm alive!!!

i'm actually at a hotel

with a guy

jungkook grinned, hopping up to sit on the counter right next to you and taking a big sip from his glass of orange juice.

“i think you should probably call them, no?” he teased, his dark eyes sparkling.

“yeah, i definitely sho-,” you muttered.

the phone didn't even ring twice before the screen glitched and two panicked faces popped up at the exact same time.

“Y/N! WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU?!” sophie practically screamed into her microphone, her hair a wild mess as she held her phone way too close to her face.

“GIRL, WE WERE ABOUT TO CALL THE POLICE!” andrea chimed in right behind her, shoving sophie out of the frame so she could stare into the camera. “we came back to the table last night and you were completely gone! we thought you got kidnapped!”

you winced, pulling the phone an inch away from your face while jungkook muffled a laugh into his glass of juice, enjoying every single second.

“i'm fine! i'm so sorry, guys, i swear i'm okay,” you said quickly, trying to keep your voice down. “i... uh... left… with someone.”

dead silence hit the call. sophie and andrea exchanged a look on their side of the screen before both of them yelled in unison.

“AHHH, YOU LEFT WITH SOMEONE?!” sophie shrieked. “the asian guy with the piercings? the absurdly hot one?!”

“uhm, yeah,” you stammered, feeling heat rush all the way up to your ears. “we went back to his hotel.”

andrea’s jaw literally dropped. “wait... it’s 3:00 PM. y/n... did you just wake up?! did you spend the whole night and the whole day with him?!”

out of the corner of your eye, you saw jungkook leaning over, curiously trying to take a sneak peek at your screen. the second you noticed him hovering, you completely blocked him, pulling the phone flush against your chest and glaring at him. he just let out a quiet chuckle, shaking his head with a playful smirk on his face.

“andrea, shh! oh my god,” you hissed into the microphone, trying to regain control of the conversation.

“is he there right now? IS HE LISTENING?!” sophie whispered loudly into her mic, her eyes wide as she tried to inspect your background “HEEELLOOOO?!?!”

seeing his chance, jungkook suddenly leaned in close behind your shoulder, sneaking just half of his sleepy, messy haired face into the top corner of the frame.

“heeeey gir—”

you didn't even let him finish the sentence. instantly panicking, your thumb smashed the red button, cutting the audio off mid-word before he could even get the greeting out.

you dropped your phone onto the counter and buried your face in your hands, groaning out loud. jungkook burst into a full, hearty laugh, wrapping an arm around your waist to pull your flustered body against his side.

“you didn't even let me say hi,” he teased laughing while you sat there dying of embarrassment.

⊹⋰𓇼⋆⸝·⸝⋆꙳⊹⋰ ⊹⋰𓇼⋆⸝·⸝⋆꙳⊹⋰

that summer in brazil became a blurry, beautiful paradise. what started as a wild one-night stand melted into the best week of your entire life. you, sophie, and andrea ended up merging groups with jungkook and his friends who were also staying in rio.

you can still vividly picture that last sunset in copacabana. the sky was painted in deep pinks and gold as sophie splashed around in the warm ocean, screaming for everyone to get in. you remember jungkook grabbing your wrist with a toothy grin, his long fingers interlaced with yours as he dragged you laughing down the shoreline, both of you crashing into the waves. under the water, with the sun dipping below the horizon and nobody watching, he had pulled you flush against his chest to steal a few ocean-tasted kisses that made your heart ache before it was time to say goodbye.

one year later.

los angeles.

a lot had changed since rio. you were back in LA, grinding through your final year of law school, constantly buried under legal briefs and cases. jungkook had moved to the city too, pursuing his music career, his days spent in dark recording studios, his nights spent running around town.

and somehow, through the chaos, you two had stayed in each other's orbits.

you had his number saved in your phone, and what started as occasional text check-ins turned into routine hangouts. dinner, late night food runs, and eventual hookups. you weren't officially together, no labels, no promises… just two people who couldn't seem to untangle themselves from one another.

it was 11:00 pm on a friday night. the empty pizza box sat closed on the kitchen counter, and both of you had already washed up for bed. your 5th-floor apartment felt like a cozy sanctuary, high above the LA traffic. low, sultry rnb melted into smooth jazz from the bluetooth speaker on the shelf, filling the room with a warm, steady rhythm. mood lamps decored the living space in a soft gradient of warm purple and golden orange light, casting shadows against the walls.

jungkook was sitting back on your couch in his grey sweatpants and an oversized tee, his long legs spread casually as he waited for you.

“you’re staring,” you murmured, leaning against the doorframe of the bathroom with a hairbrush still held loosely in your hand. you were dressed for sleep in a matching baby pink velvet set, a soft cropped tank top and tiny velvet shorts that hugged your hips.

jungkook let out a low, raspy chuckle, running a hand through his dark hair as his eyes slowly dragged over your outfit. “can’t help it. you look ridiculously good in pink.”

setting your brush down, you walked across the warm floorboards, stepping right between his open knees to straddle his lap. jungkook’s large, warm hands immediately slid under the hem of your velvet shorts, resting flush against your bare thighs to pull you close.

“hmm...” you breathed, resting your hands against his chest.

“i missed you,” he whispered, leaning up so his lips brushed the shell of your ear over the gentle saxophone playing in the background. “spent all day in the studio thinking about you,”

the restraint snapped right there. you reached down, tangling your fingers in his hair, and pulled him into a heavy, bruising kiss. he groaned into your mouth, his tongue sliding past yours as his hands tightened on your waist. the kiss was raw, hungry, and entirely unhurried, perfectly timed to the slow music filling the room.

he slid your pink tank top over your head, tossing it onto the coffee table, before his mouth trailed down your jawline to your bare chest. he cupped your breast, taking one sensitive nipple into his mouth to suck on it gently, sending an electric shock straight down to your core. you gasped, arching your back into his mouth as his thumb hooked into your velvet shorts, pulling them off with practiced speed.

he pulled back just enough to look up at you, his dark eyes blown wide with desire as he shoved his sweatpants down his hips.

“ride me, baby,” he rasped, his voice heavy with command.

you didn't need to be told twice. gripping his broad shoulders for balance, you lifted yourself up, aligning your wet core over his hard length, and slowly sank all the way down onto him in one full, breathtaking movement.

“ah—fuck, jungkook—” the air completely left your lungs in a loud, shattered moan.

riding him was your absolute weakness, the absolute control, the deep friction, and the view of jungkook looking up at you with pleading eyes, through the purple and orange glow of the room drove you insane. you set a torturous pace, rolling your hips and grinding down against him before lifting yourself up to take him all the way in again.

“fuck, y/n,” he grunted, his tattoos flexing as his hands gripped your hips tightly, helping you set the rhythm. “you feel so fucking good... god, look at you...”

“mnh, harder, kook, d-deeper…” you whimpered, your head tilting back as you picked up the pace, the soft cushions of the couch taking every heavy impact as the music swirled around you.

he lifted his hips to meet yours, thrusting up into you with ruthless precision. “like that, baby? hmm? tell me how bad you need it.”

“yes fuck, right there,” you sobbed out, your voice echoing off the walls as your inner walls began to clamp desperately around him.

the sensation was completely overpowering. you threw your head back, riding him frantically until the intense pressure shattered into a full body orgasm. you cried out his name, your thighs trembling violently as the waves tore through you.

hearing you break was his absolute limit. with a guttural growl, jungkook gripped your waist, pulled himself out of you at the absolute last second, and came undone right across your stomach and thighs, his entire body shuddering beneath you as he held you tight against him.

for a long time, neither of you moved. you collapsed forward, resting your forehead against his chest as your breathing slowly synchronized with the low jazz fading out on the speaker. jungkook wrapped his arms tightly around you, rubbing slow, soothing circles into your back, his chin resting gently on top of your head.

as you lay there in the warm, ambient light of your apartment, the entire year flashed through your mind. you thought back to that chaotic, spontaneous night in Rio, how broken and lost you’d felt after your ex, and how this incredible man had casually walked into your life and helped you heal without even trying. from the Copacabana beaches to quiet Friday nights on your couch in LA, he’d made you feel so safe, so desired, and so deeply loved every single step of the way.

you were so overwhelmed with emotion that the words slipped out of your mouth before you could stop them.

“i love you,” you whispered softly against his skin.

the room went completely still for a split second. you froze, your heart hammering against your ribs as you realized what you’d just confessed out loud.

but jungkook didn't pull away. instead, a soft, breathless laugh escaped him. he tightened his hold around your waist and tilted your chin up with his thumb, forcing you to look at him. his dark eyes were shining with so much warmth it almost brought tears to your eyes.

“i love you even more,” he murmured softly, leaning in to press a tender kiss to your lips.

he pulled back just enough to look at you, a timid, slightly nervous smile softening his face.

“i know this might sound like a stupid question, considering...” he trailed off, gesturing vaguely between the two of you with a quiet chuckle, before his gaze locked back onto yours. “...but do you wanna make it official? i want to call you my girlfriend everywhere i go.”

you couldn't help the huge grin that spread across your face. leaning down, you kissed him again, sweet, slow, and full of absolute certainty.

“yes,” you whispered against his lips. “i’d love that.”

⊹⋰𓇼⋆⸝·⸝⋆꙳⊹⋰ ⊹⋰𓇼⋆⸝·⸝⋆꙳⊹⋰

HEY YALL, i had so much fun writing this, i just had to give them a plot, i’d love to write a pt2

let me knoooowww

[rpwprpwprpwprw]

excuse me? rio de janeiro aka my city mentioned? to read

[almatiarau]

Something just like this - Pt. 1 (Jungkook x y/n)

Summary: In the middle of adjusting your life to being a divorcee with a daughter, you are invited to your middle school reunion. There, you meet your ex-boyfriend, Jungkook, who also has his own struggle. Feeling nostalgic, both of you are involved in a journey of walking down memory lane. Between puppy love and friendship, will romance bloom for a second time? 

Word count: 9k

Warnings: Divorce trauma, being cheated on (not by JK), self-doubt, self-worth struggle, pretty much y/n is going through emotional thing caused by the divorce.

Genre: Angst, Fluff, possibility of Smut in later part.

Author’s Note: Hello! It’s been 3 years since I last wrote on Tumblr. Last week I got very inspired and was really into writing in full English (also pls forgive me if there’s any weird wordings as English is not my first language), but I locked in and wrote down this first part. Shout out to my lovely beta reader @euphorajeon who blessed me with her time and talent to read and give her feedback, pls know I appreciate your help very very much!

Originally I wanted to make it a one shot, but probably the pacing will be quite rushed. So, I decided to post this first part and will continue to the second, or maybe third part (it won’t be a long series!). I hope you like the first one, please let me know if you do so I’ll definitely lock in to rush the next part :) Thank you!

What-if is a small little word that can turn into a dangerous limbo if you pay attention to it for more than 10 seconds. Unfortunately, you’ve been pondering on it for way more than 10 seconds these days. How could you not? A life you’ve known for the past 10 years has crumbled into dust. Unfortunately, when you’re a mom of a five year old, you don’t get to mop too long under the rubble. As much as you would like to do so, you really can’t, even when the basic foundation of your adult life turns out to be a lie, your five year old’s life can’t be put on hold. 

You’d been dating Seonho for most of your college life, before going into marriage two years after graduation. You were blessed right after it with Miyeon, a beautiful baby girl who resembled her father a lot. You always thought it was a cute feature, something you always joke about with Seonho–how his baby girl is a replica of him and all you’ve been doing is just carrying her around for 9 months before delivering her. 

But now, in the aftermath, looking at your daughter’s face feels like being stabbed in the chest with a sharp knife. Maybe it doesn’t bleed anymore–not after almost a year–but your wound has never properly recovered. It’s there, pulsing with ache every time you have to step up your role as both parents for Miyeon.

Due to Miyeon’s age, you got full custody, while Seonho still had his visitation rights. Miyeon visited her dad every weekend, so you finally get your me time. A full me time with no strings to relationship for the first time after 10 years. One part of yourself felt excited, but honestly, the bigger part of you often felt disoriented. The first three months you’ve been trying out so many things, post-breakup revenge things you see people do on Tiktok or Instagram, but it could only go so far. 

Because no matter how many times you try to revamp yourself, how many times you try to tell yourself that he’s the one who'll be missing out, the pain of being cheated on is something you’ve never experienced before. And frankly, it’s way more painful than childbirth–than anything you’ve been through and dealing with. It felt like the home you’ve carefully built brick by brick was smashed down by a wrecking ball. It hit directly right in the gut, crept up and then tore your heart apart. But honestly, the most difficult part was the breach of trust. You’ve trusted Seonho for half of your life. He was, after all, only the second boyfriend you’ve ever had. And he was good. He was the epitome of a dream son-in-law your mother had always wished for–well mannered, smart, hard-working. It might also be the reason why you agreed to marry him kind of young. You thought he is the one, that you will never find someone better as a life partner. 

But of course, life always throws a sick joke your way. You first noticed by the way he always brought his phone everywhere. Classic, right? Then you felt  how his attention shifted. He never asked you about your days anymore, and all conversations revolved around house chores and Miyeon’s daily life. You felt it, and you confronted it, little by little, because God forbid you’re thoughtful about him. You didn’t want to push him too hard because you knew his work had been tough on him too. So you tried, gently, asked about what was wrong and he never gave you a definite answer. Until one day, you woke up in the middle of the night, thirsty for water, and you saw for the first time, his phone left charging outside the bedroom. 

When they said how a woman’s instinct is always mostly right, they were not wrong. Because there had been one name, his work colleague, whom you always had a suspicion of. Her name thrown here and there between your daily conversation. It shouldn’t be a problem, you also have your male work colleague, but again, your instinct kicked in when one day Seonho told you about her love life, about how she just broke up with her boyfriend over silly things. He should not know about that. He should not be the one she shared her sappy story with. Because of course he’s fucking married. 

So when you saw her name on his phone history, so-fucking-many times–too many for just a colleague–you knew. Then there were all other receipts you preferred not to think about, but were enough to confront him. You didn’t ask for divorce directly. God no. You thought about Miyeon, how this all would affect her. You pondered about the possibility of forgiving him. But honestly, you could not spend another single night where you cried yourself to sleep, and days where you wondered whether he will cheat on you again.

So, here you are. One year after the divorce, living your life as normally as possible, spending days with a big WHAT-IF inside your head sometimes, wondering how life would be if you never chose to marry Seonho. You had your dream back then, wanting to explore the world, maybe work abroad, getting a Master’s Degree, but you know Seonho is a domestic man through and through. He hesitated to try a new dish, let alone travel the world to explore.

For Miyeon’s sake, you went back to your mother’s house. She helped you take care of Miyeon while you were working, and you took care of her financially. It’s a win-win, you never know how lonely your mother was now that she lived alone, after your brother got married and moved out. Your father passed away  quite a long time ago. Sometimes you wish he were still here, so you could be his little girl again and ask him to punch Seonho in the face for ruining your future.

[Wonhee] : You’re coming right? [You] : Where? [Wonhee] : Middle school reunion this weekend!

Taking off your work glasses, you massage your temples. You kind of forgot about the middle school reunion agenda Wonhee–your best friend from middle school–had been raving about. As she should though, because this will be the first time your class in middle school will be having a reunion. Sometimes you can’t believe that you’re already at that age where your social agendas are school reunions. Last month was high school, and you only lasted 30 minutes because you didn’t know many people. But middle school was different. You were a different child back then. Maybe because you hadn’t been pressured to study so hard for college application, but what you remembered from middle school was a lot of laughter and fun. 

And Jungkook.

Your crush and first boyfriend in the last year of middle school. You met him for the first time inside the class. Honestly, he was one of the most good-looking boy you've ever see. Later, he was assigned as class president while you were his deputy. This made you spend some extra time with him, outside the school hour. Your teacher later told you, the reason why she chose the two of you because apparently you and him were always very active in class by asking quite handful of questions in many subjects.

He was an interesting boy to say the least. He was definitely part of the popular crowd, with his looks and social skills, but he was also the teachers’ favorite with his intelligence and sharpness. You never intended to develop feelings and even be in a 'relationship' with him. But you spent so much time with each other that you fell victim to his charm. You remembered him telling you that you were the smartest and most fun girl he ever had a conversation with. And it was cute, the way he asked you to be his girlfriend, the way you became boyfriend and girlfriend at the age of 15. Until you broke up because you wanted to go to the best high school in the city, while Jungkook needed to go back to his hometown due to his parent’s work.

Were you sad when it happened? Of course. But it’s a middle school love, so a broken-hearted you at 15 doesn’t need a long time to recover. Unlike at the age of 30 with a kid. It needed more alcohol and cursing, only with Wonhee of course. Miyeon only gets to see the composed side of you. 

You haven’t spoken to Jungkook ever since. You never saw him either. But you did connect on Facebook, and he updated once when he got married a few years back. Was it 2 or 3 years ago? You also found out that he lived in Singapore right now. Maybe he worked there. You did wonder what his job was, and if he ever got to be a teacher just as he wanted.

Ok, so all these memories about Jungkook are maybe another coping mechanism of yours and the manifestation of a WHAT-IF scenario inside your head that recently is acting up more often. What if you and Jungkook never broke up? Would you marry him? Lived in Singapore with him? 

But let’s not get ahead of ourselves, you also did this scenario with the guy from IT Department you thought was cute last week. Does he have a wife? How does it feel to come home to him every night?

Yeah, you’re weird, and maybe a bit lonely, and also in dire need of self validation–Wonhee said. Something normal you’re experiencing according to your therapist.

Of course you went to therapy after the divorce. You needed to do something about the sleeping trouble, the self worth emergency, and every emotionally challenging stuff you need to juggle while maintaining to be working mom of the year. You need to get your shit together for Miyeon. 

It’s not easy, but it needs to be done. As you said, you don’t have time to be depressed when you have the responsibility of raising a child. You love her so much, you swore you will do anything to make the transition in her life as smooth as possible. You need to be strong when you explain to her why mommy and daddy do not share a house anymore. 

As you type a reply to Wonhee, you laugh to yourself. All these thoughts about Jungkook as if he will attend the reunion. First, didn’t he live in Singapore as you remembered he was? Second, he’s a married man. Get your grip. It’s highly inappropriate for you to think about someone’s husband. You knew it first hand on how it damaged someone else’s life, surely you don’t need to be the perpetrator now.

Surprisingly, Jungkook is here. You stop in your tracks when you see him right at the registration desk. Your reunion is happening at a venue just outside the city. It is usually used for wedding receptions, but the committee had turned the mini hall, overlooking a lake, into a reunion party complete with a mini stage, food stalls and a kids playing area. Miyeon would love it there, since you see four children playing around. It makes you realize that you are definitely in that age range where your peers are having their little family and raising their own children. You look over at Jungkook again and think for a second, he’s alone, or at least it looks like he doesn’t have a partner or a child by his side.

That doesn’t mean he doesn’t have one waiting at home–you think, shaking your head to put a bit of sense into you. He does look good though. Fifteen years later with no contact and yet you still recognize him in a second. He’s definitely taller, broad back, but his side profile remained the same, the boyish smile was still there, even though you can definitely see how his features have matured over time. 

It should be okay to appreciate your friend–though he’s also an ex–appearances after all these years apart. You can leave it at that. You should leave it at that. Huffing a breath, you continue your way to the registration desk once you’re sure Jungkook’s away. There are a total of 100 plus people attending, including their partners or spouses and children. When you are done registering, you feel a pat on your shoulder and when you turn, you’re greeted by a warm smile. 

“Hey, Y/N? How have you been?”

“Oh my God! Eunwoo? Wow, it’s been so long. I’m good, how are you?”

“Good. It’s so great to see many of our classmates coming today.”

“I haven’t met anyone, just got here. I think Wonhee is already inside.”

“Yeah she is. Let’s get inside then, we have our own section on the tables by the left side.”

You follow Eunwoo, stopping a little bit for a few times when you meet your classmates from first and second year. Until finally you reach the round table where most of your final year classmates are sitting. You greet them one by one, some with a long hug because you miss them a lot and you are actually in the same group chat–just haven’t found the time to really meet up.

“Hi, Y/N.”

Though his voice is a bit deeper, you can still recognize his honey voice anywhere.

“Hi, Jungkook,” you shake his hand, “how are you?”

“Good as can be. You’re looking great.”

You try to suppress any tingling feeling in your chest. He’s just your ex-classmate giving a compliment after not seeing you for 15 years. God, that is a long stretch of time. You should give him a compliment too. After all, you really think he looks good too. It should be harmless. 

“You too. Wow, you’re so tall now.” 

“You didn’t meet me at my peak potential,” he says while giving you a grin.

You laugh it off, holding yourself from poking him on his shoulder to not make any unnecessary contact. 

You can hear the MC testing the mic on the stage, so you think you should take a seat somewhere.

“Here, this seat is empty.” Jungkook gestures to the seat next to him. 

Of course it is. The universe is really trying to test you. You smile and take the seat next to him, while chanting inside your head, he’s married, he’s married for a few more times to let it sit inside of you.

“How’s your child doing? Sorry, is it a girl or a boy? I remembered seeing you post about your child a few years back, but I don’t really remember the gender,” Jungkook asks, while in the background you can hear the MC talking about that day’s program. 

“She’s a girl, her name’s Miyeon. She’s great, just turned five a few months ago,” you reply. Heart definitely feels warm that he remembers this about you, “and how about you? I think you posted that you moved to Singapore?”

He chuckles before replying, “actually just moved back here. I went to Singapore for my undergrad and have lived there ever since.”

“Wow, I must have seen that picture a very very long time ago.”

“Yeah, I don’t really post that much.”

“Definitely.”

He smiles again before taking his glass of water. You can see he has some tattoos on his right knuckles. Then you notice, there’s no wedding band around his ring finger. But these days a lot of guys at the office are also not wearing their wedding rings. Some said they are afraid they’ll lose it. Some say it’s not comfortable to wear all day. So, not wearing a ring doesn't always mean they’re not married.

“So you’ve been staying in Singapore all these years?” you asked. Because he did say he just moved back here.

“Yeah, after graduation I got offered a scholarship to continue my Master's, and then I got the opportunity to pursue a lecturing job at my University. So, yeah, the past ten years I lived over there.”

You nod a few times. Despite the early attraction you felt when you saw him again, you genuinely feel good reconnecting with Jungkook. Because aside from the romantic relationship you had with him in your early teenage years, he was definitely your friend. A good friend who you could talk with easily. A friend who constantly made you laugh and shared the same interest–music and food at that time.

“How about you? You still live in your old neighbourhood?”

“Recently, yeah.”

Funny that you spent ten years not living in that neighbourhood, but somehow right now, when Jungkook asked you, you came back to that old house. Your childhood home. The one he definitely knew as he walked you home from school almost everyday.

“So we’re kinda moved back just recently, huh?” 

You smile with the realization, “yeah, we kinda are, aren’t we?”

You don’t want to guess whether Jungkook knew what it meant–for you to move back to your childhood home recently. Because you also feel like you don’t want to pry too much into his personal life–unless he told you first.

The conversation blends into group conversation once the MC is done talking on the stage and apparently giving time for people to mingle and eat lunch. There will be a group competition later on, but obviously people need to reconnect before teaming up to beat each other.

Wonhee nudges your shoulder while you are queuing for the sushi stall. 

“Your ex’s looking fine.”

You roll your eyes before handing her a clean plate.

“No seriously, the others were talking about how good Jungkook looked today.”

“He’s married, stop ogling over a married man.”

“Girl, you didn’t know?”

You arch your eyebrow while waiting for the person in front of you taking his sweet time picking salmon rolls.

“He’s on your team.”

“What team? We haven’t even decided the teams yet.”

“No, you moron. He’s divorced too.”

That made you stop your movement. Wonhee needs to nudge you again so you can start picking out the salmon sashimi you’ve been eyeing before. You definitely picked a lot less than you were planning, because boy oh boy, Wonhee didn’t just drop a bomb like that.

“How do you know?”

“I asked Eunwoo.”

“God, that’s inappropriate to ask, don’t you think?” you hiss, eyes darting around to make sure Jungkook himself is not nearby.

“Oh come on, pretty sure others were going to ask him if I didn’t. You know Haewon had her eyes on him from the start. Rumors have been swirling around that Jungkook moved back to Seoul because he separated from his wife.”

Wasn't he the one who worked there? Was his ex-wife also a lecturer at the same University? 

“Well, I feel bad for him. Divorce is not an easy route, Man.”

“Maybe you two can bond over having the same experience,” suggests Wonhee, who picks up a slice of salmon sashimi from your plate with her chopsticks.

“It’s a reunion, Wonhee, not a divorce support group meeting.”

“Well, I’m just saying. You have the upper hand by being his ex, you know, at least more than that Haewon girl.”

You don’t reply. You just eat your sushi while scanning the hall, mindlessly searching for the person of interest, who unsurprisingly is not difficult to find, even in the crowd. 

Jungkook stands right over the dessert table, a small plate in his hand. Maybe that plate isn’t that small, maybe his hand is just big. Your brain really needs a deep clean. He really does look good though. Now that you see him from the front while standing, you can see how muscular he’s gotten. 

Oh who are you kidding, the word you were aiming for is hot actually. But somehow your mommy brain won’t allow you to think about that word. God, you’re a mom, not a teenager. You shouldn’t be gawking over a hot ex. After all, are you even ready to jump into something new after everything?

“We haven’t seen each other for 15 years, who knows if he’s still the same person I knew,” you murmur, “besides, I’m not sure I’m ready for anything after… you know…” and before Wonhee can reply, you add, “also why are we talking like he is even interested?? I mean, look at him.”

“Yea pretty much everyone is looking at him,” Wonhee says while looking at him with starry eyes to confirm what you meant, clearly not  intending to make you feel better, “but you two had history, and maybe,” putting down her plate on the table beside you, she grasps your shoulder and looked you in the eye–such a grand serious gesture from your usually goofy friend, “maybe this doesn’t need to be THAT serious. I mean come on, you’ve only been with your ex-husband for your entire adult life, you deserve to have fun, see where things are going, if he’s not interested so what? It’s not like you’re stuck in a locked room with him. You can just ignore it like the past 15 years.”

You peer over Wonhee’s shoulder to see Jungkook again across the hall. Maybe she’s right. It’s obvious you’re attracted to him from the start and you’ve been suppressing that feeling because you thought he’s married. Now that you know he’s not anymore, and you’re also not anymore, what’s the harm in  testing the water? See if that puppy love from 15 years ago still lingers in between.

“Yea, well…” before you can continue, the MC announces that game sessions will be starting soon. Everyone needs to gather and form a team of six people to participate. The winning team will receive prizes ranging from home appliances to hotel vouchers. Man, the committee did a really good job in fundraising, you think. Well, some of your peers did become very successful and eventually donated for this event.

You and Wonhee walk back to the place where your ex-classmates had gathered. Some of them have already formed a team, while you, Wonhee, Eunwoo, instinctively stand closer with Eunha and Jaehyun joining in. 

“Hey, Jungkook, wanna join our team? We’re missing one person over here.”

Just as you are about to call on Jungkook who was walking closer towards your area, Haewon shouts from across your team. You want to hit your head for not asking him sooner. But then, he looks at you with an arched eyebrow, silently asking whether your team is still open. So you nod tentatively.

“Sorry, I already promised Y/N to be on her team.”

Yeah, he definitely belongs in Wonhee’s team for not considering any implications of their actions towards your future. For example, the daggers Haewon shot your way with every movement Jungkook makes closer. And let’s not forget the apparent surge of your heartbeat with every smile he throws your way. 

But he’s oblivious–obviously–giving you the widest grin that reminds you of his 15 years old self after triumphantly getting you that Pororo plushie from a claw machine. 

“You never promised me anything,” you whisper when he finally stands beside you, while Eunwoo writes down all your teammates' names in a paper before handing it to the committee.

“I beg to differ. I remember I promised you a lot of things.”

Again, he smiles the widest grin that made the corner of his eyes along with his nose wrinkled in the most adorable way. Is he even 30 years old??

“What? You still remember whatever you said 15 years ago?” you joke.

“Only the important ones.”

“Like what?”

“Like buying you ice cream whenever you’re on your first day of period.”

This time you don’t hold back. You poke on his shoulder because God that was embarrassing. But maybe poking a muscle bunny was a wrong move from your side, because he doesn’t budge, at all, and your two fingers now hurt.

“Ouch!”

You don’t think he will take your hand, then blows on your fingers, “careful, I’m much stronger now.”

“What would you build a tank of a body for??”

“A lot of things, really,” and when he lowers his head a little bit to whisper in your ear, shivers run down your spine, “it comes in handy for a lot of things.”

Fortunately, the MC is calling all the teams to gather around closer to the stage for the game’s instruction. As much as you think how silly it is to play games at this age, it really is fun and enjoyable. Even though the games are not new at all, playing charades, name that tune and a giant Jenga with friends you haven’t seen in a while are really a great icebreaker, and a way to make you feel closer again. You realize that it helps some of you to unwind, strip down from all the adult responsibilities you’ve been carrying around. At least for a good one and a half hour, you let your mind and body let loose. Be young and carefree again.

The sky has turned an orange-ish hue when the game session was over. And to your team’s delight, the six of you won the first prize–which was a one night stay at a five star hotel back in the city for each person.

Seeing Eunha holding her daughter while giving her snacks, you become aware of the fact that you haven’t contacted Miyeon at all today. Even though she’s safe with her  dad, usually you drop a call or video call to let her know about your day. So, you excuse yourself for a while to go outside–since inside the event has turned into a karaoke session with some of your classmates singing very well ‘in tune’.

Turns out Miyeon has already fallen asleep. Seonho even turns on the video call just to show how she’s peacefully tucked in her bed. They were out all day at the waterpark, so she’s understandably tired. Seonho says she did ask for you before bed, but could understand when he explained that mommy was busy. You feel a bit guilty that you missed her call today, but you know you need to manage this feeling. That making time for yourself is not a crime. Your therapist often said that you needed to fill yourself with love, to be able to give love to Miyeon. So, taking time to take care of yourself is necessary.

“Hey, you okay?”

You are deep in thought that you didn’t even realize Jungkook’s already standing by your side.

“Yeah, just needed to call my daughter.”

“Figured. Do you need to go back soon?”

You shake your head, “not really. She’s with my… ex-husband right now, it’s his time.”

Looking out towards the lake, you can see how the water reflects a golden ray as the sun sets down. Jungkook keeps quiet for a while, probably unsure whether to ask a follow- up question or to discard it and try to divert the conversation the other way.

But, he can’t help himself. Not when you remind him of the comforting days of the youth. When all you two could care about were grades and teenage hormones. At times, it was too much, but right now, he wishes that’s all he needs to think about. Not the uncertainty of starting over, in terms of career, and love life.

“So you’ve separated from your husband?”

“Yeah,” you glance at him before deciding whether it is a good decision to ask. Seeing him relax, eyes looking down to the lake where some swans are swimming peacefully, you decide to ask, “I heard it’s the same case for you. Is it true?”

“Yeah,” he answers right away, eyes still looking forward, “six months now, that’s why I came back to Seoul.”

“I thought your job was in Singapore?”

“It was. But so was hers . We were in the same department,” he chuckles lightly, “guess it’s right what they said, don’t date your co-worker, it’ll be weird when it turns ugly. Luckily there was an opening for a lecturer at Yonsei, so I applied and got accepted.”

For a moment you think about what might have happened. Especially when he said ‘ugly’. The Jungkook you knew 15 years ago would never cheat. He’s too good to do that. But then again, you thought the same about Seonho and look where you are right now. So, you really can’t assume anymore.

Maybe he senses it by the silence from your side, so he turns to you before continuing, “we just couldn’t see eye to eye anymore. It was amicable, Lucy and I. I just thought it would be harder for us if we keep on working together while navigating a divorce. So, I decided to move out of Singapore. It was her home anyway.”

Perhaps it’s the dynamic between you two that makes it easy to be comfortable in such a short amount of time, even after being apart for so long. As you’ve said, despite the puppy love, you were good friends. 

You hum in response, absentmindedly moving closer to each other. The wind gushes around you as the sky turns a little bit darker.

“He cheated on me.”

“Fuck–sorry, didn’t mean to curse but, fuck, Y/N…”

“Yeah, 10 years together and a beautiful daughter, down the drain.”

“That’s just brutal.”

“Right.”

You both don’t say anything for a while. Guess Jungkook is  trying to acknowledge your situation as you can see his mouth open and close a few times while his eyes open wide, clearly taken aback by your confession.

“I guess even after a year, I’m still learning how to be with myself again. Just me, not his girlfriend, wife, or his daughter’s mother.”

“Yeah, I get it. It might not be that long for me, but adjusting your life back after a long committed relationship is not easy.”

“True.”

“It’s just me and it’s not easy at all. I can’t imagine you having to deal with it while having a daughter. Let alone the thing that he did to you.”

You shrug, while producing a weak smile, “guess it’s true what they said about us, women, we do hold superpowers.”

He chuckles again, “yeah… always knew you were a strong one, but… this is…”

“Enough about me. I wanna know how you finally get to teach. What do you teach exactly?” It’s not that you want to shut him out, but you’re afraid you’ll cry again if you relieved all those feelings.

“Media and communication.”

“That sounds interesting. But I must say I’m a little bit surprised. I thought you would major in sciences or like, IT?”

“Turns out creating and writing something that could evoke emotions or reactions from audiences was really my passion,” he admits.

“I can see the vision.”

“What?” 

Now you’re the one who sets your eyes to the lake, while his lands on your figure beside him.

“You, writing. Always thought you had a talent for words.”

“Yeah? What gives? My love letter for you?” 

God, you hope he doesn’t see the blush creeping up your cheeks. You may still have those letters inside a shoebox in your closet. Not because you want to cling to it, but you didn’t have the heart to throw it away. As cheesy as it may seem, it’s the beauty of young love. When everything feels so intense, dramatic and serious. You remember having a pink diary inside that shoebox that might or might not have some scribblings of Jungkook’s name with yours inside a heart.

“What? Why are you laughing?” he asks.

“I don’t remember your exact words, but I’m pretty sure you quoted some Oasis and Coldplay’s lyrics in there.”

Jungkook laughs again, louder now, the kind where his body vibrates. It prompts you to mimic it.

“We were in the band's era, weren’t we?”

“You definitely were,” you reply. Remembering how he called you at night and asked you to listen to him playing the guitar, “God knows how many times you played Wonderwall through my phone.”

“And Sparks.”

“Yeah, Sparks,” you murmur. If you could choose one song to become the soundtrack of your time with Jungkook during middle school, Sparks by Coldplay would be it. The song would be playing on loop from your ipod while you shared the earphone with him.

“I love that song.”

“Me too.”

He looks at you once again, and this time, you look back at him. You both smile nostalgically. At that exact time, it feels like you are opening a Pandora Box, filled with memories from the youth that were exactly the opposite of what you are getting through recently.

“Life did sound so simple at that time.”

Jungkook sighs, “yeah, who knew being a grown up sucks ass.”

You laugh again. Seems like you laugh a lot more today than the past six months. You won’t even try to compare with the first six months fresh off the divorce. Because at that point of time, sleep was a luxury, let alone a genuine heartfelt laugh. Of course you’ve  laughed since. Having a best friend like Wonhee does help a lot. But this laugh, this kind of laugh with a giddy feeling, yeah, it’s been a while.

“Hey, Kook.”

It spurs another nostalgic feeling inside Jungkook hearing you call him by that nickname.

“Yeah?”

“It really is nice seeing you again today.”

“Pleasure’s all mine.”

Suddenly your shoes become the most interesting thing to see. You did think it was a good idea to test the water with Jungkook. But now that you have your time with him, it scares you. Because you can’t even explain how you are feeling right now. You can’t deny the attraction you feel to him, but at the same time, and for the most part, you are scared. Since you know, liking and wanting someone means you need to be ready for the other side of the spectrum. The spectacular let down, heartbreak and disappointment. And the more you think about it, the more sure you are that you may not be ready.

That’s when you feel it. Maybe your heart is not even mended back together. Maybe it’s still in pieces. And now looking at Jungkook, you’re getting more scared that his is also the same. So you need to ask yourself, what kind of relationship do you want to build on that?

“I think I should go back.”

Jungkook takes a quick glance at his watch, “yeah, sure, it’s late. How did you come here? Did you bring a car?”

“No, I took the bus.”

“I can drive you back.”

“You sure? I mean, if you still wanna hang around, I don’t want to–”

“No, it’s okay, I still have lots of things to unpack anyway.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

Another awkward smile between you two before heading back into the hall. The karaoke session apparently had finished some time ago. A band currently is on stage, playing Still Into You by Paramore. It really does feel like you went back in time. All the familiar faces, photos from back in the days displayed on the large screen by the stage, and again, Jungkook, being exactly how you remember him, nice, attentive, a great listener and hella handsome.

Some people start to say goodbye, especially those who bring their children as it is nearing bedtime. So you and Jungkook do the same. You try to ignore some pair of curious eyes, seeing you leaving together with him. You exchange numbers with Eunwoo before shaking his hand–a promise to keep contact, before hugging Wonhee who holds you longer to whisper in your ear, “Jungkook’s driving you home right?” which you nod in reply. 

“Yas, get it girl,” she pats your back one more time before letting you go, giving you a wink with a smirk you want to scratch out of her face because God forbid it makes your mind go places.

It doesn’t get better when Jungkook opens the car door for you, a black Hyundai Palisade, before going to his side. The first thing you realize is his car smells good. A mix of new leather with probably his cologne? Musky with the right amount of citrus. The type of scent you won’t mind inhaling religiously.

“You’re good?” he asks, making sure you are sitting comfortably and your seatbelt’s in place.

“Yeah,” you nod.

“How’s your mom doing? I hope she’s doing good,” Jungkook asks while he maneuvers the car into the road.

“Yeah, she is. Still makes the meanest Japchae known to mankind.”

“Agree, my mom could never.”

“Don’t let her hear that though,” you reply. You only met Jungkook’s parents once during graduation, before they moved back to Busan, and you remember how Mrs Jeon was a very cheerful and kind woman, and Jungkook obviously teases her a lot about her cooking skill, “how’s your mom and dad? And how’s your brother?”

“They’re great. Very excited because my brother just had a daughter last year, so yeah, they’re in full grandparents mode.”

“Oh, wow, you’re an uncle?”

“The cool kind of course.”

You chuckle while rolling your eyes. But you can definitely imagine how he is with his niece. Jungkook had been good with little kids, even when you were young. A few times you stayed late at school because he was coaching the 4th grader playing soccer. They might not be that ‘little’ of course, but the way he was willing to help, to make sure those boys understood the rules and the basics of playing was endearing.

“My brother also got married last year,” you say.

“No way, little Kiho?”

“Well, he’s 27 now, not so little anymore huh?”

“He used to challenge me for Super Mario, then asked for ice cream even though he’s the one who lost.”

You definitely remember all that. How your little brother, Kiho, always got excited whenever Jungkook came over, even though the initial agenda was to study together, but alas, Jungkook almost always ended up in front of the TV along with Kiho, hands busy over the Playstation controller.

“Consider it practice sessions, Kook. I bet it helps you deal with your niece now.”

“I can confirm that it does not.”

You stifle a laugh, “why is that? I don’t think a one year old will be too much for you to handle.”

“She’s definitely a little firecracker, I can tell you that.”

He glances at you with a warm smile that makes your heart skip a beat.

“A firecracker at one year old? What should I call Miyeon then?”

“Oh, I’m sure she’s as fiery as her mother, is she not?”

Your eyes drift to the river by the side of the road as the car crosses a bridge. A full moon in the sky casting lights across the calm water.

“People always say Miyeon looks a lot like her father. It was nice to hear it before. But now, I wish your word is closer to the truth.”

“Hey, sorry if it makes you uncomfortable. We don’t have to talk about anything that reminds you of him.”

You shrug, “that’s the fucked up part, I guess. I will never be able to, because I share the biggest love of my life with him. He will forever be a part of me.”

After a minute of silence, you finally ask Jungkook, “do you have a child? With your ex-wife?”

“No. We were always planning to postpone until she’s ready.”

You nod a few times, before looking out of the car window by your side and remembering that you didn’t have that conversation with Seonho. Not that you regret having Miyeon a bit early in your life, but you didn’t know that kind of conversation was ever on the table. You just thought having a child is the next step after getting married. 

“Your parents still live in Busan?”

“Yeah. My brother and his family also live over there.”

“Thought maybe you brought them back here.”

Jungkook runs his hand over his hair, “they like it there. My father’s shop runs quite well too. I don’t think they will ever consider living in Seoul again.”

Then you remember. The exact reason why Jungkook needed to move back to Busan after graduation. His father lost his job after his office was liquidated. It was a hard time for them. Having two children who were still in school, while Mrs Jeon was a stay-at-home mom. The most feasible way was to move back to their parent’s hometown, where Jungkook’s grandfather ran a brick and mortar shop. 

“I’m glad to hear it’s going well for them. I remember how… tough it was for you and your family.”

“Yeah, that’s why when I received the scholarship to Singapore, I didn’t even think twice. It was the easiest way for me to continue my study without burdening my parents.”

Suddenly it passes your thought. What if he told you when he was going to Singapore. What if he reached out and said goodbye, at least. Would you have done something about it? And would it have changed your relationship with him?

Again, another what-if scenario running through your mind. But, isn’t this normal for a human being? To think about what-ifs and possible scenarios?

“I know how that feels.”

Jungkook takes another glance at you before returning his focus to the road ahead.

“I mean, I almost didn’t go to college because I thought it would cost too much for my mom. You know she did this alone. The whole parenting thing. But she was the one who insisted that I should get my degree, to get a better job. So I watched her work day and night, making those banchans to sell. She often rejected my help just to make sure I get proper sleep and rest so I could study better. God, the love of a mother to a child is just…”

Your words are stuck in the air because suddenly you feel Jungkook’s hand over the top of your head, patting it gently.

“Jal-haess-eo.”* (you did well)

You’re grateful his eyes are still focusing on the road, otherwise he’ll see a drop of tear running down your cheek. When was the last time someone did that–say that to you? All the heavy weight of bearing everything on your own for the past year–no scratch that, even before, because surely Seonho’s change of behavior didn’t happen overnight, so all the toss and turn, the questioning whether you did something wrong had been inhabiting you for more than few months in advance–hits you again right in the chest. You’ve been strong, trying to be. And it is something nobody really commended you on. That you survived an apocalyptic level of self-esteem destruction. After the affair, you lost any sense of confidence left in your being. It hurt you so much that you started questioning what was wrong about you that someone you trusted your life with had the heart to betray you.

Jungkook hears you though. As much as you try to hold back, he can hear a sniffle coming from you.

“Hey, you okay?”

“Y-yeah, sorry… it’s just, it’s nice to hear someone say it.”

“Say what?”

“That I did a good job. Having someone cheat on you really destroys your self-confidence like that. Feels like I have never done anything right, you know.”

You can see Jungkook’s hand ready to reach out, but he takes it back. Both hands hold the steering wheel tightly.

“I may never know how you feel, Y/N, but to me, you’ve been incredibly strong. So, yeah, you did a great job.”

“Thanks. I hope you know that it means a lot to hear it.”

You both reach your house in no time. He really does remember the way, even after so many years. 

“Thanks, Kook, I really appreciate you driving me back, and also the company.”

“No problem,” resting both of his hands on the steering wheel, Jungkook looks at you intently, “it really is good seeing you again, Y/N.”

As you unlock your seatbelt, you realize you haven’t asked him where he lives right now, you know, for knowledge purposes.

“By the way, where do you live now?”

“Seodaemun-gu, found a great priced apartment there. Not very far from Yonsei too.”

“Oh, it's actually near my office.”

“Great, maybe I can take you to lunch or dinner sometime?”

Who can say no to those big doe eyes, you think, even if you’re not attracted to him you obviously can’t say no to those.

“Sure, text me.”

“I will.”

You’re about to close the car door, when Jungkook calls out, “hey, Y/N.”

“Yeah?”

“Neo-mu jal-haess-eo.” (you really did well.)

As much as your last encounter with Jungkook occupies your mind, even days after, you still hesitate to contact him first. Do you feel disappointed that he hasn’t texted yet? Maybe, a little bit. But you realize that you’re not 15 anymore. He has a life to rebuild, and so do you. And honestly, you’re still unsure what to do with your feelings. Clearly you feel something, you want something, otherwise you won’t be thinking about him. But you still can’t shake your fear aside. What if you try your luck on a man once again and it betrays you?

But that Sunday, a week after your reunion, you let yourself open the shoebox tucked deep inside your closet. As Miyeon is with her father on weekends, you are left with free time to go all nostalgic. 

And it’s there, a few handwritten letters inside a brown envelope. You can’t help but giggle, remembering the times when you received them. Jungkook left most of it inside your backpack, so you were surprised when you found it at home. But there were also times when he handed it to you directly, usually after a little “date” you two had gone  on. Basically buying snacks or ramen from the convenience store and eating it at the park. 

Fifteen minutes later and you are in your third letter. Each are not that long because as much as a romantic he was, Jungkook also was a boy, so most of the letters are one pages, primarily consisting of him dissecting the meaning of a song he was into at that time and how it reminded him of you. 

Oasis’ Wonderwall was one of them. You shake your head a few times while scoffing when you read the lyrics one more time. Oh how dramatic young love was. But what’s younger days without a little bit of emo phase.

Because maybe, you’re gonna be the one that saves me

And after all, you’re my wonderwall

I have been thinking about the meaning of the word ‘wonderwall’. It’s a word that doesn’t have an exact translation. So I searched around, and found out that people refer to it as someone who helps us in difficult times. 

You are my wonderwall, Y/N - JK

Reading more of his letters makes you think about what was the reason again that you both broke up. Why couldn’t you try to fight for it? But maybe, the mindset of a teenager was different than how you are right now. One obstacle and you’d already thought it was the end of the world.

[Jungkook]: Look what I found  [Jungkook]: [pic]

It’s as if the universe is aligning the stars for you, because at that exact moment, your phone lights up with a new message notification from Jungkook. The picture he sent is his guitar and a notebook you recognize from back in the days. His notebook. Usually used for writing down guitar keys from songs he wanted to try.

[You]: Cool! Can you still play it? [Jungkook]: Need to change the strings first. But overall it is still good. [You]: What a coincidence, I’m digging through this too.

Then you send him the picture of things you kept in the shoebox. His letters, your diary, and tucked inside between a birthday card and confettis, a picture, both of you from a photobox. 

[Jungkook]: You really keep everything huh? I should have that picture too. We got two pieces  of them right? One for you and one for me. [You]: I think so. Maybe you’ll find it later when you finish organizing your new apartment. [Jungkook] Yeah, been busy this week with new lease stuff and coordination with campus. [You]: Fighting! [Jungkook]: On that note, are you free tonight? Wanna grab dinner?

But before you reply, another message bubble appears.

[Jungkook]: I remember you said you have free time on the weekends

You can’t help but smile at the fact that he remembers even when you only said it once. You know you said you were scared, unsure about what is to come, but you like this feeling. You need this feeling. Even if it’s only temporary, you want to let yourself indulge.

[You]: I can go for dinner. Where do you want to meet? [Jungkook]: I’ll pick you up in 30

When you thought Jungkook looked handsome last week wearing a black button up shirt with the same dark tone blazer, you are surely not prepared seeing him all casual like now. Dark grey hoodie on, jeans and a pair of sneakers, just outside your door. If he’s not as tall and as buff as he is right now, he might look exactly the same as he was in middle school. Even your mother thinks the same when she opens the door for  him.

“Jungkookie, you are so tall now, but your face doesn’t change at all.”

It’s cute seeing him all blushing while scratching his nape before taking a bow, “eomeoni, it’s good to see you again.”

You both say goodbye to your mother, mentally noting that later you want to bring home takeaways for her.

You are ready to take the passenger seat of his car when he says, “actually, do you mind if we walked to the place?”

Somehow, you can already guess where he wanted to go.

“You wanna go to that samgyeopsal place, don't you?”

“I’ve been missing that place like crazy,” he replies, “nothing beats their meat for real. I will never stop envying you for living so close to it.”

“Funnily, I haven’t even gone to that place since… maybe since I graduated college? Kiho still went though a few times, saying the ahjumma misses me. But I think she misses you more, she always gives you extra meat whenever we go there.”

“Really? But pretty sure after 15 years, she has already forgotten about me.”

“You’re not easily forgotten, Kook.”

“Even for you?”

You elbow him in reflex, since you had started walking side by side towards the place you often visit to eat while you were young. There are many actually–places like this hole in the wall samgyeopsal place–because that’s what you like to do with him, discovering new places to eat with a student level budget.

Ten minutes later and you are both already seated at your usual table. The ahjumma who serves you is still the same person, even though she’s notably older. And as your prediction, she still remembers him. Turns out those doe eyes with bunny smile really left a lasting impression.

“Of course I remember you, you two always come together and ask for the cheapest menu.”

You both laugh wholeheartedly. Remembering the days when you diligently counted pocket money to entertain your culinary cravings.

“Don’t worry, tonight you can bring us your most expensive meat and soju,” Jungkook says confidently while patting his chest. You can’t help but smile as you can see how he tries to brag in front of her.

“Okay, okay. You two are so cute, I'm sure your children are cute too.”

It’s not an odd comment coming from the elderly–to be talking about marriages and kids to the youngsters–but it makes your heartbeat increase just a notch for thinking about another what-if scenario. One where you and Jungkook apparently share a child together.

You don’t comment on it, just smiling shyly while expecting him to maybe correct the ahjumma. But he doesn’t. He only smirks before drinking his corn tea. Maybe you’re just overthinking it. It’s just a harmless comment anyway.

The thought quickly disappears when piping hot food comes your way. Even the smell reminds you of uniforms and homeworks, heavy backpacks and school projects, the kind of stress that could easily be taken away by good food, good desserts and a kiss on the cheek by the man in front of you who really looks like he enjoys the food thoroughly. Pouty cheeks and lips, and an expression people often mistake as anger are the evidence you remember. 

When he notices you staring, he only arches his eyebrows, before quickly taking some meat and condiments and placing it on your plate.

“I’m serious, Y/N, please don’t hesitate to ask the ahjumma for more, their best ones.”

Then you laugh again, because at that exact moment, his facial expression is so endearing, “oh now you’re flexing that you have serious money, huh?”

“I do have serious money. We don’t have to choose between the kimchi fried rice or the Melona ice cream for dessert. I can afford both. Plus cream cheese kimbab if we’re still hungry later.”

“Fancy,” you wink playfully, “can I add banana milk to it?”

“You can take three bottles. No, scratch that, the whole crate.”

You laugh again, before digging into the food and sigh in delight. For the first time since the divorce, you feel excited again. Genuinely excited and giddy that makes the grin on your face reluctant to fade. And it makes your conversation with Jungkook flow pleasingly. Starts with lighter topics, your daily life, and finally shifts into more serious ones when you share an ice cream stick that can be broken into two pieces while sitting at the park near your house. It’s like a routine that you relive after long years.

“Can I ask you something? It might be a bit… personal,” you ask, after licking your soda flavored ice cream.

“I thought we’ve been talking about personal things,” he answers playfully, distracting you with him doing the exact same thing to his ice cream.

“You can choose not to answer, I’m just curious.”

“Ask away, Y/N,” he nudges your arms a little.

“What made you decide to end it? With your ex-wife? I mean, for me it’s obvious, since he cheated and all… But you said yours ended amicably. What made a couple, who love each other, decide to quit? Unless there’s an outside factor? Do I sound weird? Do you get what I mean?”

He smiles knowingly, biting the last chunk of his ice cream before it melts even further down his fingers, “I get what you mean. And yeah, I can’t pinpoint an exact reason why we were not compatible anymore. I just knew once we started to let arguments unsettled, less communication because we didn’t want to argue with each other, that’s where things started going downhill.”

You try not to be distracted when Jungkook starts licking the melting ice cream off of his index finger–God forbid it’s a serious conversation you’re having right now–but well, women are built for multitasking not for nothing. You prove it that night as you still can listen to him attentively while also acknowledging the funny feelings in  your lower belly from his innocent act.

“We tried to talk, again and again, even went to couple’s therapy. But yeah, we couldn’t seem to reach the same understanding even for the basics of things. There’s one thing I always remember from those counseling sessions though…”

You hum to assure him that you’re listening.

“Just because you couldn’t find a middle ground, doesn’t mean that you both are bad people. Sometimes good people just don’t match each other.”

Before you can respond, he quickly adds, “but not for your case, okay? He’s definitely not a good person. In the uncensored version I’m gonna say he’s a fucking asshole, sorry,” he shrugs nonchalantly which makes you chuckle.

“What’s the use of using two versions if you ended up saying it anyway.”

“A fair warning. Not wanting to offend you.”

“None taken,” you too bite the last chunk of your ice cream, “it’s just weird for me to call the father of my daughter as… an asshole.”

“You can separate them, you know, the father and the husband,” he then emphasizes, “ex-husband, my bad.”

“You think so? Can you do that?”

“What?” Jungkook asks earnestly, hands sprawled behind him as he leans back a little.

“Be a good father while being a shitty husband,” but then you remember, he doesn’t even have a child yet, “sorry, maybe you don’t relate to it yet.”

“All I can say is just… I’m gonna try not to be shitty. Even if things don’t work out between me and my kid’s mother, I will try to end it well, and to make sure it doesn’t affect my relationship with my kid.”

There’s a comfortable silence between you for a while, before he adds, “but I know things are easier said than done, so… yeah… what can a man do besides try?”

“I always thought he’s a good person though. Like, he still is, even now… he’s good to everyone…”

“But you.”

“Yeah,” you mutter, “apparently.”

“Which is a shame. Instead of an exception, you should be the conviction.”

How does he expect you to react? Especially when you feel the tip of your fingers brushing with his. Even the cold wind can’t soothe the warmth spreading through your body. 

You try to conjure a response, a witty one deemed comparable to his words that you’re 100% sure will never leave your mind for a minimum of one thousand business days. 

Luckily, the both of you get distracted by the sound of two people chattering. A boy and a girl. From the way they are dressed still in uniforms, huge backpacks and convenience store labeled plastic bags, you'll guess they’re the same age as you and Jungkook back then. Maybe heading home after doing a group project–God knows you’ve done too many of them. But the thing that catches your attention the most is the way their hands are intertwined. The feeling of your fingertips brushing Jungkook’s is amplified as your memory takes you travelling back in time. That’s what you did too. Hands holding each other while he walks you home. Maybe not all the way, but it sure happened in between, like after you crossed a street or when the road was too narrow he’s worried you would be grazed by a car passing by.

Apparently Jungkook senses it too. And his feeling is verified when he catches your face, your wistful eyes in particular.

“Reminds me of us.”

He officially steals your thoughts. 

“I thought I’m the only one.”

“You’re not the only one who remembers it, Y/N.”

“Fun days.”

“Definitely.”

You don’t realize who started it, but when both of your fingers layered on top of each other, neither of you move away, and neither try to move further. It’s just there, relishing in the moment of rekindled feelings.

Part 2

[luvismenu]

𝗙𝗨𝗖𝗞 𝗬𝗢𝗨𝗥 𝗥𝗜𝗩𝗔𝗟 — 𝗃𝖾𝗈𝗇 𝗃𝗎𝗇𝗀𝗄𝗈𝗈𝗄 / m.list

Two rival CEOs who absolutely despise each other keep ending up in bed despite the hatred. Their relationship is nothing but angry texts, blackmail, and raw hate sex with zero feelings involved.

𝘁𝗿𝗼𝗽𝗲𝘀 / 𝗮𝘂 (warnings): smau/texting au + written, ceo!jk x ceo!oc, enemies with benefits/enemies who fuck, sexting, smut, jealousy, intense competition, corporate sabotage, toxic rivalry. // NO SERIES TAGLIST

❚ 𝗜𝗡𝗗𝗘𝗫 ⎯⎯⠀2/4⠀mini series , on-going .

𝗢𝟭 — 𝗛𝗮𝘁𝗲 𝗬𝗼𝘂, 𝗖𝗼𝗺𝗲 𝗢𝘃𝗲𝗿 【 smau 】

𝗢𝟮 — 𝗙𝘂𝗰𝗸 𝗠𝗲 𝗢𝗿 𝗙𝘂𝗰𝗸 𝗢𝗳𝗳 【 written 】

𝗢𝟯 — 𝗗𝗮𝘁𝗲 𝗛𝗶𝗺? 𝗣𝗹𝗲𝗮𝘀𝗲. 【 smau 】

𝗢𝟰 — 𝗠𝘆 𝗗𝗲𝗮𝗿𝗲𝘀𝘁, 𝗜 𝗟𝗼𝗮𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗬𝗼𝘂. 【 written 】

© 2026 luvismenu. all rights reserved.

[hansolmates]

here comes the bride, all dressed in pride

summary; You and your cousin Doyeon have had beef with each other since the sandbox. When she plucks the last straw, you decide to end your long-simmering fight by claiming that you and her ex—Jeon Jungkook, are now boyfriend and girlfriend pairing; jungkook x reader (f) genre/warnings; fake dating!au, fluff, crack, mentions of cheating, lang, alcohol, mc eats meat, tw sexual harassment, toxic family, dick talk, making out, if u have that one family member that pulls bs on you constantly this is it, this fic is for all the people who have a huge ass family who wont leave them alone w.c; 17.3k  a/n: my second fic for gcn’s 23 birthday project! the fact that wedding szn zoomed by us like that… and so bc im sad that so many weddings had to be postponed this fic was born! a huge thank u to vivi @eerieedits​ / @chillingtae​​ for creating this BEAUTIFUL fic banner and separator pls check vivi out to make your fics all purty

prompts used: “You’ve always been beautiful to me, don’t you know that?” and “I never knew love could be like this, feel like this.”

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[hansolmates]

a hero’s journey (m)

summary; jungkook and jisoo are the mightiest power couple. however, one drunken confession and that whole facade fades in an instant. you realize that maybe you need to break from your unvaried life for a bit and be the hero of your own love story pairing; jungkook x editor!reader (f) genre/warnings; best friend’s boyfriend au, slice of life, angst with a happy ending because im weak, pining pINING, everyone’s kind of a mess in their own sweet special way, alcohol use, mentions of ze weed, toxic relationships, mean friends, sex—slight dom!kook, food play, fingering, squirting, heavy use of the petname “pretty girl” bc im weak, strength kink, manhandling (oop!) w.c; 22.2k a/n; woof! my first fic for @goldenclosetnetwork​ 23 | jungkook’s birthday project! this goes out to all the closet romantics *ahem me cough* who doesn’t love pining between a cutie koo? a huge thank u for vivi @eerieedits​ for making this bbbBEAUTIFUL fic banner!  

prompt used: “I should’ve known.”

if you like this fic pls consider giving a like n’share🥺💜🥺💜

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[hansolmates]

17 going on 27

summary; one second, you’re sobbing at prom because the most popular guy in school dumps you due to your relationship being a little prank to break your heart. the next? you’re a creative editor at Ego, the hottest young adult fashion magazine. as you try to figure out what’s the deal with this sudden time skip into adulthood, you come across relationships and friendships that are made to be cherished and made to be broken. pairing; photographer!jungkook x editor!reader (f) genre/warnings; fluff, crack, future enemies to lovers, teenage and adulthood angst, time skips from high school!au to late twenties!au, 13 going on 30!au, all your romantic movie tropes come to life! a really big mess honestly, various movie and music references, mentions of sex, use of alcohol, everyone give jin and jimin a big ol hug, language, a surprise guest from the queen of england w/c; 22.6k a/n; it’s that time of the year baby! the time of the year where i binge watch the good ol’ early 2000s romcoms that make absolutely no sense! a huge thank u to @eerieedits​ for making this beautiful banner. vivi got the whole delia’s/claire’s vibe down to a t! 

if you enjoy this fic pls consider giving it a like and a share✨✨✨

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[writersisland]

Meet Cute Prompts but it is all suggestions given in a 1958 “129 Ways to Get a Husband” article

Have your car break down in strategic places.

Read obituaries to find eligible widowers.

Look in the census reports for places with the most single men.

Ask your friends' husbands who the eligible men are in their offices.

Be nice to everybody—they may have an eligible brother or son.

Volunteer for jury duty.

Be friendly to ugly men—handsome is as handsome does.

Get lost at football games.

Don't take a job in a company run largely by women.

Get a job demonstrating fishing tackle in a sporting goods store.

Go to all reunions of your high school or college class. There may be widowers there.

Don't be afraid to associate with more attractive girls; they may have some leftovers.

Go back to your home town for a visit—the wild kid next door may have become a very eligible bachelor while you were away.

Don't room with a girl who is a sad sack and let her pull you down to her level.

Stumble when you walk into a room that he's in.

Wear a Band-Aid. People always ask what happened.

Dropping the handkerchief still works.

Stand in a corner and cry softly. Chances are good that he'll come over to find out what's wrong.

Buy a convertible. Men like to ride in them.

Learn how to bake tasty apple pies. Bring one in to the office and let the eligible bachelors taste it.

"Acidentally" have your purse fly open, scattering its contents all over the street.

Practice your drinking with your women friends first.

Get a sunburn.

Don't tell him about your allergies.

Don't whine—girls who whine stay on the vine!

Show him you can have fun on a cheap date-but don't overdo it!

Double-date with a gay, happily married couple—let him see what it's like!

Talk to his father about business and agree that taxes are too high!

Never let him know he's the only one, even if you have to stay home one or two nights a week!

If he's rich, tell him you like his money—the honesty will intrigue him!

Clip and mail him a funny cartoon that means something to both of you.

Point out to him that the death rate of single men is twice that of married men.

Go to Yale.

If your mother is fat, tell him you take after your father. If he's fat too, tell him you're adopted!

Stow away on a battleship.

Rent a billboard and post your picture and telephone number on it.

Paint your name and number on roof and say, "Give me a buzz, pilots."

Sink at a fashionable beach at high noon!

Ride the airport bus back and forth from the airport.

Bribe ferris-wheel operator to get you stuck on the top of a Ferris wheel.

Stand on a busy street corner with a lasso.

Carry a camera and ask strange, handsome men if they would mind snapping your picture.

Make and sell toupees—bald men are easy catches!

Advertise for male co-owner of a boat.

Carry a tow chain in the trunk of your automobile.

Let it be known in your office that you have a button box and will sew on bachelors' loose buttons.

Don't marry him if he has too many loose buttons!

Source: “129 Ways to get a Husband” in the January 1958 edition of the McCall’s Magazine.

[luna-azzurra]

Tips for Writing Rich Kids / Nepo Babies!!

(Characters who say “we’re not that rich” while standing in a kitchen with two islands)

⊹ Rich characters are not all the same kind of rich. There’s old money, new money, fake-rich, influencer-rich, political-family rich, celebrity-child rich, “my dad owns half the town” rich, “my family has buildings named after them” rich, and “we are in debt but the house still has a gate” rich. The type matters. Old money is often quieter, colder, more coded. New money may be louder, shinier, more defensive. A trust fund kid and a child of a famous actor are both privileged, but the pressure around them is very different.

⊹ They don’t always know what things cost, and that can be funny or ugly. A rich character might casually suggest ordering food when everyone else is counting money. They might think a “cheap trip” means only one hotel room per person. They might say “just get a new one” about something another character saved months to buy. Don’t make them cartoon evil every time. Sometimes they’re not cruel, just completely untrained in normal consequences.

⊹ Privilege can look like confidence, but it can also look like cluelessness. Some rich kids walk into rooms like every door has already decided to open for them. They email professors casually. They talk to adults like equals. They negotiate without sweating. They assume problems can be solved because, historically, their problems have been solved. That doesn’t mean they’re brave. Sometimes it means they have never had to imagine the floor disappearing. NEVER!

⊹ A rich kid may have everything and still feel like their life was already assigned before they arrived. The right school, the right friends, the right internship, the right partner, the right public image. They may not be allowed to fail privately because every mistake becomes embarrassing for the family. Poor characters often fight for access. Rich characters often fight for selfhood. Different cage, but still a cage.

⋆˙⟡ Write the staff situation carefully. I mean IF there are housekeepers, drivers, nannies, assistants, guards, cooks, gardeners, tutors, PLEASE REMEMBER those people ARE NOT FURNITURE! They know everything. They see the family without performance. A rich child might be closer to the nanny than the parent. A driver might know every secret because rich people forget workers can hear. That dynamic can be warm, exploitative, complicated, loyal, resentful, or all of it at once.

⊹ A nepo baby may be talented and still protected. This is the annoying part, but it’s true. The character might actually be good at acting, music, business, politics, whatever. The point is not “they have no talent.” The point is they got more chances to prove it. More safety when they failed. Better teachers. Better rooms. Better introductions. A more interesting nepo baby knows they are good and still wonders how much of their success belongs to them.

⊹ They may be weirdly lonely. Money can buy privacy, but it can also create distance. People may want access, status, favors, invitations, jobs, proximity. A rich character might never know whether someone likes them or likes the life around them. Their birthday party is full, but somehow nobody knows they hate being alone after everyone leaves.

⊹ Their “normal” is not normal, and you can use that. Maybe they grew up with security cameras, charity galas, boarding school, ski trips, private doctors, family lawyers, summer houses, tutors, and adults who called them “sir” when they were twelve. They may be totally calm in luxury but panic in ordinary situations. They can handle a formal dinner with ambassadors but not a laundromat. That contrast is PURE GOLD!

⊹ Class guilt is not the same as class awareness!! A rich character can feel guilty and still benefit from everything. They can say “I hate rich people” while living off rich people money. They can donate, volunteer, dress down, date someone broke, reject the family business, and still not fully understand what it means to have no safety net. Mens: guilt can be sincere and useless at the same time.

⊹ Their friendships can be transactional without anyone saying it. Who gets invited to the lake house? Who gets introduced to the producer? Who gets their internship through whose father? Who disappears when the family loses money?

⊹ Give them specific habits, not just designer names. They know which fork to use. They pack like hotels will have everything. They don’t check prices on menus. They know how to speak to lawyers. They call adults by first names because they grew up around powerful people. They own luggage that looks more emotionally stable than most characters. Specific behavior sells the class background better than writing “Gucci” every five seconds.

⊹ Let them be funny without making them dumb (Please.) Rich characters can be unintentionally hilarious because their survival skills are so uneven. They might know five languages and not know how to unclog a sink. They might discuss inheritance law calmly but be defeated by public transport. They might say something insane like “we only had the small yacht that summer” and genuinely not hear it. Comedy works best when they are smart in one world and helpless in another.

⊹ Losing money should feel like identity collapse. If the family fortune disappears, it is not just “now they are poor.” It’s shame, secrecy, social exile, changed friendships, sold houses, unpaid staff, parents panicking, old friends pretending not to notice, and the character realizing how much of their personality was built on always having a backup plan.

⊹ The best arc is usually NOT “rich person learns poor people exist.” Please no. Better arcs: they learn that guilt is not repair. They choose a life not assigned to them. They stop using money as emotional duct tape. They realize kindness without power-sharing is still comfortable for them. They lose the fantasy that being miserable makes their privilege disappear. They become less charming and more honest.

[jeonstudios]

anatomy of a vampire. jjk | 01

a young man returns to a small town he hasn't seen in years, and a house he hasn't lived in since before the last president was born, only to find that a stray cat has given birth to kittens in his closet.

pairing: vampire!jeongguk x nerdy f veterinarian!reader (with a special interest in the science and biology aspect of the supernatural lol)

genre: sorta scifi-ish, fluff, minor angst, some smut later on

word count: 4.7k

warnings: none in this part (maybe anatomy talk/vet talk?), but there's gonna be like... inspection kink-stuff later on 🤪 more detailed warnings to come <3

rating: NC-17 – Adults Only

masterlist

part 1/? 

<previous | next>

© anatomy of a vampire is copyright jeonstudios. this fic can not be modified, re-posted, or translated without my permission.

You’re halfway through your lunch when Namjoon pokes his head into the break room, a stethoscope around his neck and thick-rimmed glasses low on his nose.

“Reception just got a call about a home visit.”

“Today?” you ask, your mouth full of chicken sandwich as you glance at your wristwatch. You and Namjoon are way too close for you to care about being ladylike.

“Mhm.”

You pause. Not many clinics in your small town offer home visits, and even fewer do it on short notice. For your clinic, it’s usually about an old dog being put to rest at home—incredibly sad, but not an emergency. 

“Is it urgent?”

“Not on the minute, but needs done today.”

You glance at the patient chart on the table in front of you. “I think this’ll be quick. I’ll go after this one.”

“You sure?” Namjoon asks. “Technically, it’s my turn.”

“Yeah, it’s fine. You should see Oakley when he comes; he’s not very fond of me.”

Oakley, a returning patient with chronic stomach issues, has managed to spray paint you a yellowy brown on three different occasions. From both ends. It’s like he aims.

Namjoon snorts. He hasn’t been hit once.

Checking your watch again, you push the last bite of your sandwich into your mouth, chewing it while you grab the chart. Namjoon is already on his way to greet another patient and their owner, and you take a second to swallow and wipe any crumbs off your scrubs before you follow his lead, heading into the waiting area.

“Millie?” you call, smiling when a young woman rises from a chair, her red dachshund's nose practically glued to the clinic floor.

It’s two-thirty when you pull out of the clinic parking lot, the clinic’s old station wagon rattling faintly as you steer onto the main road. The address in the confirmation email is farther out than you expected but still technically within the town limits, and you watch the short apartment buildings give way to larger, more spaced-out houses as you drive.

You don’t often find yourself in this part of town these days, although you’re very familiar with at least one house here. Many Halloweens were spent here back in the day, kids dressed up as various creatures daring each other to fight through the overgrown lawn and peek inside the dark windows. Countless stories were told about the abandoned house, each one slightly more insane than the last. Of course, you were like… eight, and a large, seemingly empty white house with a big, black gable was doomed to be haunted.

Still, you’re very surprised when you stop at the red pin on your phone’s screen, and it’s outside that very house. Momo, who works the reception, must’ve forgotten to fill out the pet owner’s name on the confirmation form she sent you, so all you have is this address and a brief line of patient info.

Even though the sky is gray—fittingly enough threatening September rain—it’s not as scary as you remember. Probably because it’s not a dark Halloween night, and you’re not a kid anymore. It also doesn’t actually seem to be abandoned. To be fair, it was never really run-down aside from the lawn, but now there’s a big black SUV parked outside. 

Getting out of the car, you grab the rectangular veterinary kit bag, accidentally shutting the trunk a little too hard. The sound echoes down the quiet street, letting anyone who wasn’t already aware know of your arrival. A chilly breeze has you pulling your softshell jacket tighter over your light blue scrubs as you lock the car. When you turn back to the house, you pause to take it in once more. It’s a pretty house—two-story, painted white probably a long time ago but still holding up surprisingly well. Black shutters frame the dark windows, and the tall, black gabled roof reaches impressively toward the gray sky. The lawn has either been trimmed within the last few years, or your childhood imagination really exaggerated it because you can clearly recall it looking more like a thicket with tall grass than just… an overgrown lawn. You distinctly remember more... shrubs.

Climbing the shallow steps, you stop in front of the black-painted door and raise your hand to knock. As you wait, you tilt your head back, once again letting your gaze linger on the house. Who exactly are you here to meet? Maybe it’s some introverted old woman who rarely leaves her house? Or a grumpy old man? But then again, the SUV looked awfully modern. Maybe the ancient resident has a grandchild visiting?

A short moment later, the door opens with a slight creak.

It’s not an old lady; it’s a young man. A tall young man—probably the most attractive one you’ve ever seen—looking down at you. He’s broad-shouldered and lean, visibly fit even despite the thick, black hoodie and baggy jeans he wears. You try not to stare at the shadow created in the fabric between his pecs, or the way the oversized hoodie still somehow manages to cling to the top of his bicep as he keeps one hand on the door handle. His black, relatively straight hair doesn’t look styled, just like it naturally falls into its part, the sides of it a little shorter than the top. Everything about him screams effortless, like he just wakes up looking like that.

One thing’s for sure: he wasn’t who you expected to open the door.

“Uh, hi,” you introduce yourself, telling him your name, “Did you… call for a vet?”

For some reason, he looks almost as surprised as you. “Hey. I did, yeah. I’m Jeongguk.”

Though he smiles politely, he doesn’t offer his hand for you to shake. It’s not something you dwell on. Quite a few of the pet owners you meet prefer not to shake hands.

“Come in.”

You nod and step inside, having to almost squeeze past him in the narrow hallway as he shuts the door behind you. Like always when you enter a strange man’s home alone, you say a little prayer in your head. If it came to it, you’ve got a bunch of pointy things in your bag, but you’d still prefer it if he wasn’t crazy to begin with.

As you move past him, you’re almost surprised that you don’t… smell him. Men—at least in this town—are very fond of their colognes and sprays, but you don’t catch even the slightest whiff of him. You wouldn’t say that you particularly enjoy the strong… scents, but the total lack of one from a hunk like this is almost disappointing.

When you go to slip your shoes off, he stops you. 

“Keep them on,” he says, voice kept low due to the distance. Or rather, the lack thereof. “It’s… not very clean.” 

There’s something in the casual smile he gives you besides an attractiveness you’ve never seen before. Maybe it’s a tad of… sheepishness? It doesn’t matter; your skin still heats under his gaze

“Oh, okay,” you say, trying to remain unbothered and professional while waiting for him to take the lead. Luckily, you don’t think he notices.

Even with the heads-up, you’re not sure what surprises you more as you follow him into the house—the layers and layers of dust, or the Edwardian, neoclassical interior design. The faded, beige walls are paneled, and as he leads you toward a staircase, you catch a glimpse of what appears to be the living room through an open archway. In it, you spot a pale green velvet sofa and two upholstered armchairs, fitting right in. There’s also a rectangular fireplace, a gold-framed mirror above it, and what catches your interest the most: a chandelier. Its size is impressive, and so is the fact that it looks like it was made for real, live candles. The same goes for the brass wall sconces placed on either side of the fireplace. You’ve only ever seen those in movies.

“They’re up here,” he says, and you nod, reaching for the wooden railing as you follow him up the stairs.

The steps creak loudly beneath your weight—another reminder of just how old this house probably is. At the landing, he turns, leading you to a bedroom. It’s surprisingly small for a house this size, but it’s cozy and warm in a way you weren’t expecting. You guess the clouds outside have eased up a little because the smallest ray of sunlight filters through the practically sheer beige curtains and highlights the dust particles floating in the air.

The four-poster bed is made from dark wood, its canopy rails bare and the headboard curled softly. Like most things, the white sheets appear pretty much untouched, and the only real signs of life are the footsteps disturbing the dust on the floor. You've followed a path all the way from the door, and when you look closer, you see paw prints venturing outside it.

Noticing your lingering gaze, Jeongguk scratches the back of his neck.

“I haven’t been here in a while.”

You figured. It doesn’t look like anyone’s been here since… the late 1800s. Although it’s certainly a stylistic choice—and one you wouldn’t have expected from someone so young and otherwise modern-looking—it has its charm. Even if you’re not sure there’s even electricity or running water.

“I arrived earlier today and found them here,” Jeongguk continues, approaching a standalone wooden wardrobe placed against the wall. One door is already slightly ajar, but when he carefully opens it wider, you see them. The cat with kittens. “I read that you’re not supposed to move them.”

The mother cat, who looks to be all black, has made a little nest on top of a crisp white shirt that’s fallen from its hanger above.

“Oh,” you breathe, crouching slowly to get a better look. “They’re brand new.”

“Yeah. And I think one is smaller than the others.”

Your eyes travel over the small beings, each with varying patches of white to go with the black. None of them, from what you can tell, have even opened their eyes yet. The mother cat stops licking one of the kittens to give you a warning hiss. You listen, rising to your feet and turning away, a plan already in mind.

“Okay, I brought some food that might help lure her out,” you say, setting the bag down on the floor and crouching to reach into it. “This stuff’s usually pretty irresistible…”

But when you look back at the man—a jar gripped in your hand—he’s already holding the mother cat. Just straight around her middle, as if he’s never held a cat before. She doesn’t seem to mind very much, just hangs there, looking around.

Jeongguk looks at you, a little surprised too.

“Oh, okay. She seems to like you better,” you smile. You can’t help but think that he looks… sweet. A big, clearly very muscular and attractive man who’s liked by animals? It’s definitely both a green flag and a personal weakness for you.

The food goes back into the bag, and you reach for the equipment you’ll need instead. With a stethoscope around your neck, a small kitchen scale, and a thermometer, you kneel in front of the wardrobe. In the meantime, Jeongguk sits down on the bed, the cat perched on his lap. He keeps his large hands around her, gently keeping her in place in case she changes her mind.

Very gently, you reach for the smallest kitten first. It squirms in your hands, mouth open and paws sticking out in a silent protest. 

“Sex is notoriously tricky to tell on kittens, especially this small, so I’m not even gonna try,” you say with a smile, giving the kitten a general once-over before focusing on its face. It’s a sweet little thing, crying a little as you inspect it. This one is mostly black but with two white front paws.

“Well, I’d definitely say they’re only a day or two old. This one has a suckle reflex but hasn’t opened its eyes yet. That usually happens between day five and fourteen. The umbilical stump is still attached too, and that usually falls off around day two to four.”

“So that’s… good?” Jeongguk asks, and when you look at him, the mother cat is bumping her head against his abdomen. He peers down at her on his lap, extending his veiny hand in a wordless offer. She accepts it, rubbing her head against his palm and letting him pet her.

“Yeah. That’s normal.”

You return your focus to the little being in your hands, carefully looking into its mouth again to check its gums and palate. 

“Pink gums and no cleft. That’s good, too.”

With one hand, you grab the stethoscope from your neck, putting the earpieces in place. Getting a clear heart or lung reading on kittens this tiny isn’t easy. Their heart rate is fast, making it easy to miss abnormalities, and their small, wriggling bodies make it hard to even position the chestpiece properly in the first place.

Focusing, you hold the kitten still, placing the stethoscope on the left side of its chest just behind the elbow. Then you listen closely, trying to ignore the soft purring from the adult cat.

It sounds… good. Alright, at least. Shifting the stethoscope slightly, you first listen to one lung and then the other. You don’t notice anything abnormal there, either.

“Heart and lungs sound okay,” you declare, slipping the stethoscope back around your neck.

“What’s next?”

“Temperature,” you answer, reaching for the digital thermometer.

“What should their temperature be?”

“Somewhere between thirty-six and thirty-six point five degrees Celsius.”

“Isn’t that a little low? I mean, compared to a human?”

“Adult cats are more similar to humans, but kittens generally run a little colder,” you explain, focusing on getting the reading right. “They don’t have the ability to regulate their body temperature properly for the first couple of weeks.”

The thermometer beeps.

“Thirty-six point two,” you mumble. “So that’s within the range. A little low, but not necessarily dangerous.”

With one hand, you reach for the kitchen scale, setting it on the floor in front of you. It powers on, and once it’s ready, you place the kitten on it, keeping your hand floating above in case the little animal tries to wiggle off the tray.

The number settles, and you read it out loud. “Eighty-one grams.”

“Too small?” Jeongguk wonders.

“On the lower side, but not dangerously so. At least not yet.”

You take the kitten and carefully place it back in the makeshift nest for the moment. Before reaching for another kitten to examine in the same way, you grab a small notebook in your bag, quickly jotting down the numbers so you don’t forget them.

Jeongguk looks on as you inspect the rest of the four kittens, occasionally asking another question. It’s not unusual for pet owners to ask questions, but considering these aren’t even his cats—and from what you gathered, he only found them today—it makes your chest warm. Not everyone would go to such lengths for stray cats. It also doesn’t help your growing soft spot that you get to talk about animals and their anatomy to someone who seems to want to listen. After all, you’re a bit of a nerd, and this is your number one fascination.

One by one, the kittens get their clean bill of health and are placed back on the shirt, and then you shift your focus to their mother. She’s standing on Jeongguk’s lap, still headbutting his chest. While she’s preoccupied, you quietly reach into your bag for the microchip scanner, but the moment you try to get close, she notices and hisses. 

“Give it a try, please?” You hold the scanner out to Jeongguk, keeping as much distance as you can. “Press this button and move the scanner over her, focusing on her neck and back.”

Jeongguk takes the scanner from your outreached hand, doing as you instructed and pressing the button. It beeps, and he begins to move it over her.

“Like this?” he asks, his eyebrows furrowed almost angrily as he focuses.

You nod encouragingly. “Yeah.”

“Is it to see if she has an owner?”

“Yes. But sometimes, even if they are microchipped, there's not a registered owner. But we can hope.”

He continues to search for a chip, but when nothing happens, he looks at you with those dark eyes, silently asking what to do.

“Try her belly and even her legs. Sometimes, they migrate.”

Adjusting his grip on the scanner, he moves it lower.

“Doesn’t seem like it,” he says a moment later, handing the scanner back to you.

“Yeah,” you sigh, taking it to put it back in the bag. Although disappointed, you’re not surprised. “Would you mind helping me check her out? She seems to really like you. A whole lot better than she likes me, at least.”

He matches the soft smile you give him. “Sure.”

“Okay, well, she seems to be in okay condition, but I need to rule out any birth-related injuries. 

“What do I do?” he asks, scooting closer to the edge of the bed, the cat still happy to receive his attention. 

“Just… hold her like that… Yes, exactly. And with your other hand, move her tail away for me?”

A little awkwardly, he follows your instructions again, and while you don’t think the cat particularly enjoys it, she doesn’t fight it. You move closer, trying to get a better look while doing your best not to stare at his veiny hands instead. In any other setting, they’d be way too much of a distraction, but knowing that this cat depends on you to evaluate her health, you divert your gaze.

“Alright… I don’t see anything... unusual, no swelling, no blood, no discharge. If she were injured, you’d usually spot it, but she’s not thrilled with me, so I won’t push it,” you chuckle, leaning back.

Having animals dislike you is unfortunately part of the job. Sometimes, it hurts your heart a little, but when you remember that it’s easy for an animal to associate the scrubs or equipment with something unpleasant and maybe even painful, it makes more sense. Briefly, you wonder if this cat has ever been to a vet or if her dislike for you stems from something else. It’s definitely normal for new mothers to have a bit of an attitude, but you’d think that would include every human in the room. Or maybe she doesn’t dislike you in particular; maybe she just really likes Jeongguk. Which... you know, fair.

Almost as if sensing that the examination is over, the black cat jumps down from Jeongguk’s lap, leaping past you to get to her babies. 

“Alright,” you say, wiping your hands on your pants before you stand up. “It’s important not to disturb them too much, but they’ll still need some supervision—especially the small one—just to make sure they continue to eat and grow. And they’ll need a better place to nest, somewhere a little warmer, softer, and less… dusty. No offense.”

Jeongguk chuckles, standing up as well and brushing some cat hairs from his hoodie. “None taken.”

“So, if you want me to, I can take them with me. We have a foster program and a few great volunteers.”

Jeongguk looks down at you, his brows furrowed in confusion this time. “I thought they were too small to be moved?”

“Yeah,” you nod, bending down to quickly gather the rest of the used equipment and put it back in the bag. “Ideally, they wouldn’t need to be. But I understand if you can’t or don't want to look after a stray cat and her kittens.”

“No, it’s… uh… It’s fine,” he says, appearing to land in a decision and sticking by it, his eyes traveling to the little bodies nestled into the white shirt. “It’s not that hard, right? Just keep an eye on them? If you think I can do it, of course. I already have a litter box.”

You blink, a little surprised. “You just happened to have a litter box?”

“No, I asked some neighbors after I called you. I figured you'd have some tips about the other stuff. Like food and such.”

Your smile grows as you watch him. He is… oddly endearing. “Yeah. Of course,” you say, your voice softening. The fewer cats and kitten taking up the very limited space at the volunteers', the better. “Okay.”

You begin drafting an email to send to him. It includes everything you've talked about plus cat food recommendations for the mother cat and a link to a cat bed that’s cheap but comfortable enough for a nursing litter. While you write, you talk him through everything again, like what to watch for, when to weigh them, and what to do if anything seems off.

He asks a few questions, making it very clear—if it wasn’t already—that he doesn’t really have any experience with animals. While he’s never appeared scared or nervous during your visit, you can tell that he’s not quite sure what to do. He moves slowly, almost a little awkwardly around the cats, but it’s more like he doesn’t want to scare them.

“You really like animals,” he points out, watching you tuck your notebook back into the bag.

You glance up at him. His tone isn’t mocking but more... curious. Still, you nod, a little self-conscious of how nerdy you can be.

“Yeah, animals are incredible. Not only because they’re such good companions—some of them at least—but, they’re so fascinating? How they function and how they’ve evolved.”

But there’s something else in his curious gaze that you finally pick up on, and it dawns on you.

“You think I’m a freak too, don’t you?” you say with a smile, pulling the stethoscope you’d forgotten to pack from around your neck and tucking it into the bag as well.

“No, no,” he shakes his head.

You lift an eyebrow. “But you know about it? My paper?”

His eyes are so dark. “Yeah…”

You look away, trying not to let it affect your professionalism. Speaking about it brings up memories you’d rather not be reminded of. “I thought you said you hadn’t been here in forever?”

It’s weird, right? If he doesn’t live here and hasn’t been around in a long time, how would he know the gossip?

“Town called a few years ago. About the electrical wiring needing to be upgraded. So I came here to fix it.”

Oh. That makes sense, you guess. A few years ago was when it first happened. That’s probably also why the yard looked different from what you remembered.

“And you heard about it?”

He smiles apologetically. “Yeah. It’s a small town, I guess.”

“It’s not like I think Ariel is real. Or that dragons roam the sky or that Dracula lives in a dark castle somewhere, wearing a black cape over a white, frilly shirt,” you defend, slinging the bag over your shoulder. “I just wrote about how much we don’t actually know about the living organisms around us and how some of the 'supernatural' traits aren't really that crazy, anatomically speaking.”

“No, I get that,” he assures, sounding like he genuinely didn’t mean to upset you. “I found it very interesting.”

“So is that why you looked so surprised to see me? Because you recognized me?”

“No. Or… well, yeah. I spoke to the receptionist, and she told me a man’s name—Namjoon, I think—would come.”

“Oh.”

“But I did also vaguely recognize you, I think. From the image.”

Lifting your wrist, you glance at the watch. “I should start to head back. Lock the clinic up.”

“I didn’t mean to offend you,” Jeongguk says, and when you meet his dark eyes again, he looks genuine. “I don’t think you’re a freak, I promise.”

“It’s alright,” you say, offering him a quick smile. “I’m not supposed to be out this long anyway. I have to get back and finish up the bill. I’ll email it to you along with the advice, is that okay?”

He nods, clearly accepting that he did in fact upset you to some degree. “Okay. Thank you for the help.”

You smile again, relaxing your shoulders and taking a deep breath. Maybe you should cut him some slack. Technically, he wasn’t even the one to bring your paper up; that was all you. And besides very, very handsome, you haven’t once thought of him as anything other than sweet.

"No problem."

The drive back to the clinic is quiet. You don’t even turn the prehistoric radio on. It doesn’t matter because your thoughts are loud enough anyway, circling back to one thing. One thing and one person.

The paper you wrote in vet school was a mistake. Not that it was bad per se—it was a perfectly science-based paper, focused on the more unusual biological traits found in the animal kingdom. 

Unfortunately, you made the grave mistake of connecting some of those traits to various mythical creatures and their ‘unbelievable’ biology. Some of your peers—predominantly men—found it absolutely ridiculous and teased you for it. The more you tried to defend yourself, the funnier they thought it was.

You’d think it at least would’ve stayed within whatever small circle vet med is, but when your small town happens to be known specifically for the vet med program, a surprisingly large chunk of the population has some connection to it. You’re lucky that not many wish to stay in town after graduating, or you would’ve been last on the list to get a job. You still remember your current boss’s inspecting eyes as she interviewed you, trying to make sure you weren’t actually batshit crazy. That was maybe five or so years ago, and you haven’t really had to think about the paper in probably at least a year. 

Until today. Again, it wasn’t Jeongguk’s fault, you don’t think he even meant for it to be brought up. It still caught you off guard, though, because even if you don’t know him, he didn’t give off the same vibe as the people who laughed at you. And now, you can’t stop thinking about him. About his build, and how the oversized clothes hung off his strong, muscular body. Or his large, veiny hands as he gently pet the mother cat. His dark eyes, sharp jaw, and strong eyebrows. Even his nose—with its straight bridge and softly rounded tip, creating such a striking, masculine profile—had a way of completely mesmerizing you.

Not only is he probably the most attractive man you’ve seen in a long time—maybe ever, but he seemed… warm. You wouldn’t expect a man like him to care for a stray cat and her newborn kittens, much less call a vet out to help, but he did.

Back at the clinic, you take a seat in front of the desktop computer, typing your notes into the chart and updating the bill. Besides the obviously tragic parts of dealing with sick and injured animals, the worst part is probably billing the owners. You need money to live just like everyone else, but you’ll always feel wrong charging worried owners to care for their family members. Even now, as you’re adding the services to… Jeon Jeongguk’s bill, you think about how the cats don’t even belong to him.

The cursor hovers over his name. Who is he? How did he come to be the owner of that house, and why own it if he’s not living there or at least visiting regularly? Why bother even fixing the electrical wiring if it’s just gonna stay empty? And just how long had it been empty?

The questions whirl in your head. Though it’s not really any of your business why he returned, maybe you could’ve at least asked him where he’s from? It would’ve been acceptable small talk, right? Could you also have asked why he felt the need to take care of the cats, even when you offered to take them off his hands, or would that have been rude? 

Realizing that you’re not getting anywhere, you bill him for a standard home visit of half an hour—even though you stayed closer to one—and for the gas just so you don’t lose money on the visit. You don’t add the same day fee or charge him for the used materials.

<previous | next>

author's note: i hope you liked it and are excited for the rest because i think it's gonna be good!!! i also had some moodboard pics of the house made so let me know if you'd like to see them <3

[cursed-carmine]

✴︎ SPARKLE DIVIDER

ﾉ Please reblog & credit if you use!

Feel free to recolor these as necessary but still give credit!!

SUCCULENTS

FOREST

MOON BLUE

OCEAN

PURPLE HAZE

[missenu]

perle di sole ⋆☀︎。

synopsis: packed and ready to go for your best friend’s destination wedding in italy? check. hot, broody senior manager jeon jeongguk as the groom’s best man? nothing could’ve prepared you for that. alternatively, what happens in italy, stays in italy … right?

pairing: sr. manager!jeongguk x fem colleague!reader

wc: 15.6k

genre: forbidden love, coworkers au, smut, angst

cw: slice of life, age gap (jk 37, oc 22), cold jk (#TroubledMen), hopeless romantic oc, grief, negative family dynamics, side character death, corporate lingo, light fluff, rich privilege, yearning, one sided grudge, oc gets harassed, hurt with some comfort, 18+ ONLY, porn with lots of plot, sexual tension, fingering, oral (f receiving), unprotected sex, creampie, slight overstimulation, multiple orgasms, riding, missionary

a/n: pls go wish my queen n goat of dilf jk @lovieku the happiest bday! this was written as a gift to her <3 SHE DESERVES THE WORLD AND SO MUCH MORE

Auntie Lin’s only piece of advice after you announced your acceptance of your first corporate job: Small talk is your best friend. The advice hadn’t registered in your mind until you facilitated a meeting with executive management where the first five minutes of silent judgement nearly made you quit the job until you asked, “Any weekend plans?”

You learned the power of small talk and how obsessed executive leaders were when it came to bragging about their personal lives outside the office. The advice worked so well, management gave you an unprompted promotion two weeks later.

Nothing wrong with being the personality hire if it helps you climb the corporate ladder. 

Okay, well, no, you had history with this company.

Your father’s connection with the talent acquisition management landed you an internship at this very company right out of high school, so you didn’t need to reestablish your rapport after graduating from university.

You’re still a hard worker. Yes … objectively speaking, nepotism played a part in your current successes — you don’t shy away from that fact.

Your charming and curious personality only got you so far, but the magic always stopped with one person.

Jeon Jeongguk.

Hard case to crack and even harder to not stare at when he’s within your vicinity.

He’s polished, well-spoken, and … let’s just say there are things you shouldn’t say or think about in a place of work, let alone towards someone in the senior management team. He hardly smiles and if he does, it’s never towards you.

Right now? You think the least Jeongguk could do is crack a smile at your joke to break the tension in the virtual meeting. No one liked hearing bad news and you became the bearer of bad news as you explained to the client why a deliverable will not be made by the proposed timeline.

Delivering bad news was a manager’s job and unfortunately, your manager entrusted you with this responsibility right before she left for maternity leave, raving about how it’ll build your leadership and communication skills … right, right.

Jeongguk was the other leader overseeing the project. His team met all the deliverables, so there was no real need for his attendance other than pure formalities. 

This was your chance to show him what you were capable of. 

“Mr. Choi, we apologize for not making the deadline. With half the team on leave, the estimated completion date will need to be extended as a result.” You explain.

Jeongguk sits and watches you exchange words with the client. The mic button remained on mute during the many moments you would’ve benefited from his direction or support. You didn’t think you’d have to go through a humiliation ritual the day before your big trip for your best friend’s wedding in Italy. It’s your turn to have your mic button on mute as you let the client chew you out in front of your peers.

“Mr. Choi.” Jeongguk interrupts.

Thank god, finally. 

“The deliverables will be completed by the original proposed due date. I will personally see through that.”

You exhale in relief once the client settles back into their chair, demeanor shifting from their outburst moments ago.

You [3:32 p.m.]: Thank you, Jeongguk.

As expected, he doesn’t reply. 

The meeting wraps up on a positive note thanks to Jeongguk’s interception. Everyone bids each other farewell until you hear a call of your name.

“Stay on the call. Need to discuss a few things with you.”

Confused, you aren’t sure why he doesn’t ask you to walk ten steps to his office to chat privately. You swallow and one by one, all of your colleagues leave the meeting until it’s just you and him. 

He sighs, letting his agitation come out freely now. He loosens his tie and fixes his frames on his nose.

“So …” you begin.

“Do you know what your first mistake was on that call?” He sneers, a complete one-eighty from the well-mannered speaker he was during the meeting.

“I’m–uh, not sure.” You reply honestly.

“‘We apologize,’” he repeats your words, “there is no ‘we’ in this — you were the one that didn’t meet the service level agreement. Learn to take accountability for your own shortcomings.”

Ouch.

He continues, “You also failed to offer any alternatives or incentive for the delay. This is about being reputable — customer experience dictates future collaborations with new clients. If this one goes sour, we lose our clientele.”

Each word morphed into daggers piercing and digging into your self-esteem.

The finishing blow?

“That being said, you will finish what we originally promised the client.”

“But,” your heart drops at the mention of working during your time off, “I’m not going to be in the country.”

“I’m sure there’s internet wherever you’re going.”

⋆｡𖦹 ˚ 𓇼 ˚｡⋆

“And then! He said I’m paid salary, not hourly, so it doesn’t matter how long I need to work — I just need to get it done.” You complain to your colleague, Mina, who happened to work under Jeongguk’s section. 

“Oof, sorry girl.” She pours the coffee into her cup, unsurprised by her boss’ expectations. Setting the pot back onto the warmer, she leans against the counter. It’s just the two of you in the breakroom, free from prying eyes and ears. “So what are you gonna do?”

You groan. As much as you’d like to ramble and moan about how unreasonable Jeongguk’s demands were, you knew he was right about needing to take accountability.

“Well, if I push in some work in the early morning and night the first couple of days in Italy, I should be able to get it done.” You sigh. “Just hate it.”

Mina pats your shoulder and gives you a reassuring smile, which soon changes into a bewildered expression as she digs her fingers into your shoulder.

“Oh, hey bossman, here for a coffee refill?” Mina’s voice strains, projected to the space behind you.

You turn and there stands Jeon Jeongguk in all his glory. While you had the privilege to see him earlier today during the virtual meeting, nothing compared to the real deal. Dressed in an all-black suit, Jeongguk looks ever immaculate. His face is free from his metal-framed glasses, but they leave their small indentations on the sides of his nose. The deadliest combo came in the form of his hair pushed back, exposing his wrinkle-free forehead.

If it weren’t for his wired earphones and outdated iPod you caught him with during his walk, you would’ve never guessed his age. Technically, you still don’t know the exact number but Anna in Human Resources hinted he’s in his mid to late thirties.

Whatever. Age is just a number and hasn’t stopped you from trying to befriend the older man. 

“Yes, my third one today.” He muses.

“Anything the team and I can do to help wrap up things for you before your vacation?” Mina probes.

Wait. You never caught wind of that.

“No,” he shakes his head, “thank you, though.”

Your heart stirs at the low timbre of his chuckle, surprised at his abilities in displaying any other emotions outside his stoic expression. You theorize it comes easier with an established rapport. 

Maybe you’ll try your luck today.

“How long are you going to be out for?” You ask, moving to the side so he has better access to the coffee pot. His scent naturally fills your space — a mixture of fresh laundry and cedarwood. 

“Two weeks.”

“Oh, same here!” You beam. 

“Yes, you’ve mentioned that quite a bit this month.”

You warm in embarrassment; though, the feelings get swept underneath the rug at another fact.

He listened — more importantly, he remembered your many musings. 

“I’m going to Italy.” You remark, hoping he’d give a little more detail on his own vacation if you shared a bit about your upcoming adventures.

Jeongguk freezes momentarily and clears his throat before setting down the nearly empty pot.

“That’s nice.”

Seizing the moment to continue the conversation, you throw out details of your trip, namely for the wedding you’ll attend as maid of honor for your best friend.

“And they’re going to have this lovely venue near the beach. It’s going to be great.” You marvel.

“Ugh, I’m jealous,” Mina pouts. “Are you going to be doing something fun during your time off, Jeongguk?” 

You watch him with expectant eyes.

“Tending some family matters.”

That’s corporate lingo for: it’s personal, so none of your business. Everyone knows to back off on the topic at that point.

Taking a sip of his coffee after mixing a pack of Splenda, he offers a tight-lipped smile, “I have to head back to the desk. Enjoy your break.”

Alone with Mina once again, you look at her with defeated eyes.

“He’s just introverted and private, babe. I wouldn’t sweat it.” She waves.

“I’ve been here for over a year and he’s never like this to management or clients.” You sigh. “Maybe I’m the problem.”

It’s hard to not take things to heart being a natural born people pleaser. You want to be liked and if you’re not, at least know why; except, Jeongguk kept things strictly work related with all the little pocket of interactions you’ve had with him. 

If you were brave enough, you’d ask him about it over coffee or lunch — anywhere that might give you a glimpse of who he is outside of work. 

“Don’t mind him. In about twenty-four hours, you’ll be in Italy! Last time you updated, the best man was a little wishy-washy about the wedding? How’s that going?”

“Jihyo said Seojun got it sorted out, so they’re okay.” All you know from the matter is how much of a struggle it was to get a definite answer from his best man. Prick move and unnecessary stress for the wedding party. Had you been in Seojun’s position, you would’ve cut losses and moved forward without the best man early on.

Planning a wedding was difficult enough, let alone dealing with difficult people in the wedding party. You pray he steps into his role as the best man to lessen the to-be-wedded couple’s worries. 

“Good. Wedding drama’s the worst.” Mina nods. “Still haven’t recovered from finding out my cousin’s husband was fucking his cousin.” 

The gossip session goes for another fifteen minutes until you begrudgingly head back to finish up some last minute tasks. You weren’t going to be that coworker who leaves a bunch of unfinished work for your backup. 

Another thing you didn’t want to be was like your father, but you’re no different by the time you finish your pending tasks at 9:52 p.m. You do a quick once-over your automatic out-of-office notice and send out a list of items for your backup to look after before stuffing all your belongings into your workbag.

Going home was always your favorite time of the day, granting you the chance to walk past Jeongguk’s office. Even from where you’re standing, the lights in his office are the only ones still on out of all the managers on the floor.

His door remains slightly ajar throughout the day aside from the times he’s on a call or speaking to one of his employees. An ‘open door policy,’ Mina explained. Wants the folks on his team comfortable coming to him with their needs or questions.

You didn’t need anything, per se. There were plenty of questions floating in your head, but none that would qualify as work-related or professional. Things like … where are you going for vacation? Would you like to grab dinner together? … Are you seeing anyone? 

Your short almond shaped nails tap on his metal name plaque outside his office.

He looks up from his computer, the monitor’s brightness setting doing little to hide his exhausted stare. One brow raised, he cocks his head to the side.

“Come in.”

You take in your surroundings: a shelf containing all his Employee of the Year awards, empty “In” bin as opposed to a stacked “Out” bin, and half-finished cup of coffee. Above all, no pictures of his family or signs of life outside of work.

A stark contrast in comparison to your cubicle full of small trinkets, pictures of your loved ones, and cards you’ve received from both your coworkers and clients.

“Just wanted to say goodnight and thank you again for joining the meeting.” You say. “I followed up with the client with your recommendations and they’re happy with the timeline.”

He nods. “I’m glad it worked out.”

“Well,” You rock on your heels, not wanting to leave just yet, “I’ll see you in two weeks. Hope you have a nice time off, Jeongguk.”

He leans back into his deskchair, glasses slipping down the bridge of his nose as he studies your face. His black dress shirt stretches and expands tightly at a passing thought; at the last second, he makes his resolve in foregoing the notion for simpler words.

“Likewise. Safe travels to Italy.”

⋆｡𖦹 ˚ 𓇼 ˚｡⋆

Despite the two layovers and many near-death turbulences later, you arrive in Venice, Italy in one piece. Your best friend, Jihyo, was the first person you see at the gates, smile lighting up the building when she finally spots you through the crowds. These days, she glows more with her soon-to-be husband, Seojun.

You’ve met him only a handful of times and he’s always been kind. You don’t know him well enough, but as long as your friend was happy, so were you.

Which is why she’s going all out for her wedding — it’s her chance to do what she wants with those who care for her. Jihyo’s parents unfortunately did not extend their support and care. They were so against the idea of her marrying a person of no status, her father threatened to cut off all ties and funds if she were to go through with marrying Seojun. 

“My favorite person is finally here!” She squeezes you in her arms. “How was the flight? Are you hungry? We can go get a quick bite.”

“Jihyo, love, slow down,” Seojun comes from behind and offers you a kind greeting. “You must be exhausted. We can head back to the hotel. Just waiting for my uncle to clear customs.”

“Oh! Do you know when he’ll land?” You ask.

“I think he was on the same flight as you, so he should be out soon.” He pulls out his phone to answer a quick text before scanning the area. 

“Think that’s him.” He squints. “Uncle, over here!” He extends his arm above his head. 

You expected a fifty year old balding man, not senior manager, Jeon Jeongguk. 

Fuck.

⋆｡𖦹 ˚ 𓇼 ˚｡⋆

You didn’t think you’d ever ride in the same car as one of your managers, especially one you had a dire crush on. You definitely didn’t think you’d be seated in the back of a rental car with him in Italy for your best friend’s wedding.

This whole scenario has to be straight out a romcom … or, in your case, a horror film.

You open up the notes app in your phone and type out a quick message: Do we tell them we know each other? 

What you really wanted to ask was: Why the hell didn’t you say anything about this being the “family matter” you had to take care of?

He takes your phone from your hand and begins typing something before handing it back to you. Nothing from your original note was edited, but a second later a notification comes through.

Jeongguk [4:56 p.m.]: No. Too complicated. You [4:56 p.m.]: Okay..

“Uncle.” Seojun looks at the rear mirror. “How’s work been?”

“Busy,” he sighs. “But it’s been getting better.”

“I’m glad. Hope these two weeks will give you the break you need. You didn’t bring your work laptop, right?” He presses.

Kind of cute seeing the younger male lecture his uncle — cuter seeing Jeongguk grumble at his nephew’s nagging.

“No promises.”

“Speaking of work,” Jihyo chimes in, “How you coping with work?” She turns her entire body from the passenger seat to look at you.

The passengers in the car go silent for your reply, feeling Jeongguk’s shift from the work status inquiry.

“Fine.” You answer quickly.

“Really? That one manager didn’t give you more shit right–”

“Jihyo!” You interrupt, quickly covering up with an awkward laugh and stiff smile, “ Ha-ha … no, it’s been great!”

“Wha–? But you were venting about having to work during the trip … Honestly, that manager’s lucky he’s hot.”

“Ji–”

“Hot?” Jeongguk asks with a raised brow. There’s a lift in his voice, forcing you to bury and shrink deeper into your seat.

“Allegedly.” Jihyo replies mindlessly. Oblivious to your discomfort of the topic, Jihyo continues, “You still gotta sneak a picture of him when you can, babe. I need to see if his pretty privileges warrant this sort of power trip.” 

You’ve heard summers in Italy were magical. You wish for some of that magic to touch you right now — the kind good enough to make you disappear all together from this awkward conversation.

“Huh.” Jeongguk props his elbow by the car’s window ledge, palm covering his mouth. “I’m curious too.” 

Jihyo changes the topic to the itinerary she made for the wedding party; however, you couldn’t be bothered to tune into the details. Knowing Jihyo, she’ll eventually send the party a spreadsheet of the schedule.

You [5:02 p.m.]: Please ignore Jihyo 🥹

Your heart accelerates at the appearance of the infamous dots signaling Jeongguk’s reply in the making.

Jeongguk [5:03 p.m.]: I’ll try. Power trips make it insanely hard to.

You chew on your bottom lip out of habit, feeling the sweat gather behind your neck. Hand fanning your face, you glance over and notice a slight shake in Jeongguk’s stature. He’s still facing away from you and towards the window, but from the reflection, you can see the corners of his mouth lift.

Endorphins rush through your bloodstream at the thought of making him happy.

While chasing your happiness has always been your life motto, you wouldn’t mind chasing for Jeongguk’s happiness too.

⋆｡𖦹 ˚ 𓇼 ˚｡⋆

On Jihyo’s itinerary, she deliberately left Venice off from the rest of the wedding party arriving later at the actual wedding site. The next two days were solely meant to spend more time with the maid of honor and best man.

The first day in Venice naturally got cut short with your arrival time; so, the only thing Jihyo planned was a nice dinner after you and Jeongguk settled into your respective rooms. Dinner rolls by with just you, Jihyo, and Seojun perusing the menu for the umpteenth time. The seat, meant for Jeongguk, remains cold and empty. After about thirty minutes and a couple text messages, Seojun confirms with the waiter to remove the utensils and plate — something about his uncle not feeling well.

“Okay, but he’ll be at dinner tomorrow, right?” Jihyo frowns, eyes full of worry.

“Yes, love.” He smiles. “Just old man tendencies and jetlag got the best of him. He’ll be there tomorrow.”

Back at the hotel, you had half a mind to check in on him and just as you built up the courage to knock, the door swings open to reveal a Jeongguk you’ve yet to ever witness: dark grey compression shirt with five-inch inseam shorts. He has his wired earphones in and looks well rested, contrary to what Seojun mentioned at dinner about two hours ago.

“Oh, are you feeling better?” You ask, hand retracted and tucked behind your back.

His brows twitch, fingers removing one of the buds out his ear. “Sorry?”

“Seojun mentioned you weren’t feeling well. Are you better now?”

“Yep.” He answers.

Awkward. 

“Where you headed to? It’s late.” You rock on your heels, afraid you might’ve overstepped with your light interrogation.

“Saw a small running trail nearby, just wanna get some movement in.”

“Would you like—”

“Well, goodnight.” He places the earpiece back in and walks off, the scent of his fresh linen deodorant trails along with him.

“—company?” The end of your sentence comes out in a tiny whisper, the question dying on the tip of your tongue as his figure disappears in the distance.

It was going to be a long two weeks, but you’re optimistic for a chance to change the tides with Jeongguk. Maybe even get to know him a little better or collect more versions of who he may be outside of work before this trip ends.

Arms linked with Jihyo, you walk down the small alleyways of Venice the next day, marveling at the tiny trinkets on display. Seojun and Jeongguk were always a couple steps behind, mainly taking note of the repeating gelato flavors at each stand. Your ears perk when Jeongguk chuckles at Seojun’s excitement of finally finding a stall with a new flavor. His laugh rings deep and rich, something you’re rarely afforded at the workplace.

You hold up two carnival masks to your face. “Which one suits me better?” You preferred the pink one in your left hand, but the green in your right hand spoke to you as well.

“Mm, you know I’ll always favor pink, but is there room in your suitcase?” Jihyo inquires.

Well, no, but you could always buy another suitcase. 

“All going to end up as clutter once you’re home.” Jeongguk mutters to himself, eyeing the other trinkets on the shelf.

Whether or not it was directed at you, you put the mask back with the rest. The shop owner smiles, a little dejected at the missed sale, but with the numerous tourists filtering through the alley, he’s bound to make his daily quota by closing time.

The rest of the day is spent on trying new food — your favorite being the bruschetta flight near the waters. Again, Jeongguk and Seojun were always a couple steps behind, chatting about god knows what while you and Jihyo swap gelatos between every two or so licks. Venice was packed — mainly with tourists, but in a specific alleyway you all decided to turn into held a different kind of danger.

Pigeons. Lots of them. 

One could argue Venice might be the motherland to birds; you’re not in any position to disagree as you cower between the birds staring down at your group from the railings. They swarm around your feet, begging for whatever you’d offer or accidentally drop.

Lucky for you, a shop owner comes and throws out bits of their baguettes. All the pigeons flock over in pursuit of their (probable) tenth snack for the day. You breathe a sigh of relief for the small deterrence, walking quicker to escape from the flock.

“Phew, thought we were goners back there.” Jihyo jokes, looking back at the boys.

At the last second, a seagull swoops in and takes the unfinished gelato right from your hand. You let out a blood curdling scream, hand immediately letting go of the cone. You grab Jihyo by the shoulder and chant for the birds to take her as an offering instead.

Everyone within the vicinity laughed, some tourists offered a sympathetic smile and asked if you were okay. Among the laughter, Jeongguk’s chuckle echoes loudest in your head. It had never been your goal to become the group’s court jester, but you wouldn’t mind making it your life’s sole purpose for this version of him.

Seojun checks his watch. “Jihyo, baby, we still have five more hours to kill before our flight over to Sicily. Should we head back to the hotel? Uncle said he’s tired—”

Smile wiped off his handsome face, Jeongguk nudges the young man in the arm. “Don’t use me as a scapegoat.”

You never realized how much the two men resembled each other, catching you off guard when Jeongguk hooks his arm around Seojun’s neck, and rubs his knuckles over his nephew’s head. Their laughter comes out the same, pairing well with their toothy grins.

“We only have one last item on the itinerary.” Jihyo says, a fond smile at the sight of her happy fiance. “I wanted to do a little gondola ride.”

Most tourists seized the golden hour for their boat ride too, which sent you and your group on a hunt for an unoccupied gondola, eventually finding two docked boats on the opposite entrance of Venice.

“I’ll pass.” Jeongguk says with a hand up.

Jihyo pouts, pointing in your direction. “But she’d be all alone.”

“Oh, um, I don’t mind staying behind.” You smile, doing your best to not sound disappointed at the lost experience. “Can always ride a boat at home.”

“But Miss, when will you ride a gondola in Venice while the sun is setting?” One of the gondoliers pitches.

“He’s right.” Jihyo nods. “Please, Jeongguk?”

He’d rather not waste money on a tourist trap … one look at Jihyo’s pleading eyes in combination with his nephew’s displeased stare has him folding on the spot.

Defeated, he sighs, “Fine.”

Jihyo cheers, skipping over to the first boat lined up where Seojun waits patiently with a hand out for her.

Their boat rows off first and five minutes later, it was yours and Jeongguk’s turn to step into the gondola. He holds out his hand to steady your step, boat wobbling as you plant your first foot down. His hold lingers a little longer even when you’ve successfully made it into the boat. Eyes peering up at Jeongguk’s tall stature, your body heats up under his watchful gaze.

“Steady now?”

“Yes.” You chirp.

“Good.” He lowers you both carefully onto the small seats. Once secured, the gondolier begins his descent through the canals.

Naturally, you strike up a conversation with the gondolier, asking how many rides he averages a day to which he politely answers, ‘too many to count.’ The conversation goes on for another five minutes until Jeongguk sighs, a subtle signal for you to stop and take in your surroundings instead.

Despite the on and off whiffs of the decade old sewage lines rooted in the city, the ride descends to the narrower alleyways one would miss on foot. Water levels rising, the gondolier signals you both to duck at an approaching bridge. You hadn’t realized you didn’t duck low enough until you feel Jeongguk’s warm palm at the base of your head, urging you lower.

His hand rests there until it’s time for you both to lift your heads up again. So warm and thoughtful, unlike how he’s been treating you at work.

You might explode at the silence, finding the need to address the elephant in the room. What were the odds you’d be alone with Jeongguk again? What are the odds you’d be riding on a gondola in Venice, Italy with Jeongguk?

“Do you hate me?” You blurt out, immediately embarrassed at your sudden forwardness. The gondolier peers from the side and looks forward again, slowing his rowing motion with his oar. 

Jeongguk’s brows furrow, lips pressed into a thin line. “I don’t hate you.”

“It seems like you do. You always are just so …”

“So …?” He trails along.

“Mean.” You frown. Feeling more foolish for your lack of proper vocabulary words for such a serious confrontation, you do your best to explain. “You seem to get along with everyone else at work and even here. You’re nice to everyone but me.” 

He stares straight ahead, tongue probing against his cheek. He doesn’t respond right away and you deflate at your wasted effort in an attempt to understand Jeongguk beyond the cubicle. You only hear the waters splashing against the gondola as the oar steers you both to another quieter route. 

If Jeongguk didn’t hate you before, he probably does right now. So evident in his silence and unwillingness to discuss this topic, you wonder to yourself … were older generations this bad with expressing their emotions and thoughts? Your father was a great example, and while you don’t want to generalize an entire generation, Jeongguk drives a hard bargain.

“How’d you get into Cientra Corporations?” The question rolls out of Jeongguk with no hint of curiosity.

What did your place of work have anything to do with his alleged animosity? 

“I applied for an opening.” You answer.

His chuckles, full of mock and taunt. “When?”

You frown, a little taken aback by the conversation now turned into an interrogation.

“I think a month before my graduation?” Your stomach churns from the unpredictability of his next words.

“Right, of course.” Jeongguk looks to the side, eyes tracing the water stains on the old brick buildings.

“I’ve had plenty of internships during undergrad and I graduated early with honors.” His demeanor only makes you overexplain your qualifications. “My recruitment was done through a fair hiring process.”

“The position was not in the budget.” He rolls his eyes, his crossed arms accentuates his muscular build. If you were more shameless, you’d let your eyes linger at his chest for a little longer despite how his next words batters your pride. “Freshly graduated with little to no experience landing a mid-entry position?”

You’re not ashamed to admit you had a foot in thanks to your connections. Of course, you were unaware a position had been created just for you, but to insinuate you didn’t deserve your place … now, that was not something you’d take lightly.

“I’ve worked hard with all the opportunities—”

“As one should.” He interrupts. “But all your ‘opportunities’ only became yours because they were taken away from someone else. There were at least ten other highly qualified applicants in the candidate pool.” 

You open your mouth, but Jeongguk beats you to it, “One summer internship at Cientra wouldn’t have gotten anyone else into the company.”

Now that shatters you. You had really thought you stood out in the pool considering you had previously applied and interned for the same company. Now you’re rethinking whether you’ve also gotten the job purely from connections.

Fighting through your imposter syndrome, you stand your ground. “At the end of the day, I was chosen and I take my job seriously. I can’t change what’s already set in stone.”

“That’s your privilege speaking.” He leans against the backrest. “I’ll only repeat this once: I don’t hate you.” Extremely hard to believe after your self esteem’s been kicked to the curb. 

And despite the sour mood, you still try to salvage what you can. “Okay,” You breathe, “Regardless of how you feel about me, can we get along for the sake of the wedding?”

“Of course.” He rolls his shoulders, discomfort clear from the small chair setup. “Trying to make this wedding as seamless and pain-free as possible.”

You piece his aversion to the wedding now. The last minute confirmation of his attendance and lack of enthusiasm for the trip’s activities … it all checks. The gondolier rounds to the ride’s starting point and docks the boat where you and Jeongguk need to quickly alter your attitude in front of the unsuspecting couple.

Jeongguk stays behind to tip the gondolier, murmuring his apologies for the tense ride. From a distance, you overhear the gondolier snort, saying something on the lines of how he should be tipping Jeongguk for the soap opera level conversation.

Your act works — neither Jihyo nor Seojun suspected any shift in moods because Jihyo was too busy begging for another cannoli and, of course, Seojun being the exceptional fiance he is, advised you guys to return to the hotel first to prepare for the flight while he ran to the specific stall Jihyo requested for.

“Uncle, you go on ahead with the girls.”

Jeongguk shakes his head. “I’ll come with you.”

On the train ride back to the hotel, Jihyo lays her head on your shoulder. “I think Uncle Jeongguk hates me.”

That makes the two of you.

She continues, “I know this wedding was rushed, but I thought he’d warm up to the idea of us by now.”

Very out of character for Jihyo to sulk over the minute things in life. You’re not one to talk, knowing firsthand what it’s like to wish for someone’s approval.

“Hey … it’s been less than two days. And who cares what he thinks? You and Seojun are in this for life.”

“I know, I know. Seojun just adores his uncle, you know? That’s his only family.” Jihyo frowns. Unlike him, she’s grown up in a big and affluent family her entire life — well, now cut in half since her choice to marry Seojun, a man of no title or status. She can bear the disdain from her own family, but she doesn’t want Seojun to lose his one and only family member over their choices.

“I was thinking,” Jihyo begins, suddenly sitting upright with determined eyes. “You know, you’re always so fun and great with people … could you maybe get to know Uncle Jeongguk and put in a good word for me? Just until the time of the wedding at least.”

You’ve never seen her this desperate. You ponder back to the conversation on the gondola and if there were little to no chance of making things right with Jeongguk yourself, how were you going to do it for Jihyo?

You’re no better than Seojun and eventually give into her plea. 

“Okay.” You smile, arms embracing her.

All checked out of the Venice hotel, your party makes it through the airport’s security checkpoint just in time for the flight to the actual wedding destination: Sicily.

Italy is magical and Sicily proved every part of that belief even in the cab ride over to the rental property. Windows down, you let the warm breeze run through your locks, uncaring if the sea salted air clung onto your hair and skin. The tips of your hair unknowingly float over and graze Jeongguk’s arms, marking and reminding him of your presence whether or not he welcomed it. 

Jihyo really went all out and booked the dreamiest villa. The villa had everything: a fifteen minute walk to the wedding venue, close to local shops and restaurants, and here’s your favorite: the beach. It’s perfect … almost as perfect as the living situation Jihyo had planned out. No brainer, she and Seojun would get the main house while you and Jeongguk would occupy the cottage a couple steps away.

“Dinner in fifteen minutes? I have a reservation with the restaurant down the street.” Jihyo shrugs her duffle bag higher on her shoulders to which Seojun immediately takes after he unloaded all the other suitcases from the trunk.

“Isn’t it a little late for dinner?” Jeongguk reads his watch.

“Customary to eat later in Italy.” Jihyo smiles.

Jeongguk checked off all the body cues to decline. His resolve crumbles yet again from another one of Seojun’s stares, ultimately agreeing to dinner after settling in.

The first thing you and Jeongguk noticed upon entering the cottage was the stuffy and warm air from the windows being closed for too long. No matter how hard you push and yank the panes, the windows just wouldn’t budge. With a sigh, a strong source of heat presses against your backside.

The scent of fresh linen only welcomes you after laundry day and whenever you’ve switched out your bedsheets. Your mind wanders around scenarios of being welcomed by this exact scent and warmth in bed, sheets needing to be constantly changed afterwards.

Fuck.

Jeongguk’s fingers pull at the knobs above the window sill. Using way less force and energy, the window cracks open with ease and the crisp crash of waves in the distance meets your ears. Nothing was louder than the beating in your chest — must’ve been your imagination when you thought Jeongguk stayed a beat longer behind, breath sucked in from the proximity.

You replay the scenario in your head even at the dinner table. 

The times you’ve looked up from your plate, you’ve unconsciously caught Jeongguk staring in your direction too. He looks away, suddenly mesmerized by the shoreline. His attention pulls at some clapping in the background, waiters and waitresses nearing your section of the restaurant. Your smile widens as they circle your table, confused but pleased by the grand gesture.

Setting a small cake down on the table and resuming their singing, you peer over at the frosted words: Happy 37th Birthday, Jeongguk!

Jeongguk keeps his smile at a sensible level, not wanting to show too much excitement. 

After the employees leave, Seojun beams, “Jihyo arranged this. Nice, huh?” He has his arm around her shoulder.

“Yes, very. Thank you, Jihyo.” Jeongguk smiles, warm and sincere. 

Bellies full, you all walk back to the property. Everything seems to fall into its natural place. Jeongguk lets you shower first and because you’re self conscious of taking too much time, you cut your usual routine by half. You’re seated at the same window sill again, watching the shoreline. 

The lights in the room turn on and you startle. Looking back, you catch a half naked Jeongguk drying his wet hair with a small towel. Bare torso on full display, you gulp at the sight while unknowingly clenching your thighs together. 

Thirty-seven looked good on Jeongguk.

You hope you looked this good at that age, but you have a long way to go. At twenty-two, you know your two little tattoos, one on your lower back and the other on your forearm, will look completely different in fifteen years. They’re nothing like Jeongguk’s, especially with all the intricate tattoos going up his arm, stopping at his chest — both old and new ones. In the office, you’ve only seen a snippet of his tattoos on his forearm, now you’ve been granted full access. Which you’re reminded that everything that happens in Italy will have to stay here. Water break chatter with Mina will exclude these details, saving these memories just for yourself on lonelier nights.

Jeongguk sucks in a breath, surprised at the sight of you. Should be in bed and knocked out from today’s festivities, but you’re there in your silk pajamas, shorts riding dangerously high in your seated position with your knees hiked up to your chest. His jaw clenches, fixing himself a glass of water at the kitchen sink. Hips pressed against the sink counter, he drinks the water, letting a couple droplets dribble past his chin and sharp jawline.

Summers in Italy were magical, but were they usually this hot?

You edge closer to the window sill, praying for the night breeze to snap you out of whatever spell you caught at this hour.

“Jetlagged?” He asks, rinsing the cup. You blink at his question, a little confused at his initiation. It warms you, but you know better than to latch onto this small exchange. 

“A little.” You let out a disgruntled sound as you get up. You think you’ve must’ve hallucinated Jeongguk’s frustrated exhale at your change of position. “You?”

“Mhm. Not as bad as the first night. The run helped.” He replies.

You have all the reason not to get along with him, let alone strike a normal conversation; though, you bare your warmest and genuine smile, “That’s nice. I’m glad.”

“Yes. Well. Goodnight.” He clears his throat.

The lock on your door clicks first, back pushed against the door for some grounding and support. Your bones click against the hard surface, ears cluing in for any sounds from your temporary roommate on the other threshold. His door shuts too, followed by a deep sigh.

There’s some shuffling followed by a drop of what you assumed were clothing. Hot and consumed by your thoughts, your mind spirals at the image of him in nothing but his briefs.

God, this was going to be a long trip.

⋆｡𖦹 ˚ 𓇼 ˚｡⋆

The internet connection in this villa was probably the worst thing Jeongguk has ever encountered in his life — even worse than the time he went abroad for school during his prime. It was another neighboring country, but still … how hard was it to get an adequate signal? 

He’s tried everything. Sitting in odd places, being closer to the router — nothing’s worked. 

He looks out the same window you were seated at last night, hoping to find an answer before he hurls his laptop out. 

Until he sees you.

You’re seated outside near a lemon tree between the two accommodations, laptop perched on the patio table while you tug at one of the nearby branches for a quick sniff at the fruit. Your eyes shut in bliss, lemon distracting you with its fresh scent.

You’ve done well to distract Jeongguk from his work too. As much as he’d like to hold onto this vendetta, he knows the grudge was misdirected and undeserving. He also knows a part of his hesitancy with you is who you are. Knows the reasons why you were hired aside from the connections you had. And although you had a good personality, he can’t call you a personality hire if you knew how to do your job.

He won’t deny your accomplishments in school, allowing you to graduate with high honors by the time you were twenty. You were an adequate worker, but again, only because you were given unfair advantages — tools and resources that were taken away from someone else more deserving and eligible. 

His grudge stretched beyond that, having been on the other receiving end of losing opportunities because of his upbringings. So yeah … maybe he’s biased.

You, on the other hand, want to hurl your laptop for other reasons. The laptop sits on top of the patio table, waiting for you to begin your long half day of work.

The metal legs of the empty chair across from you scrape against the concrete floor.

“Mind if I join you?”

You straighten from your slouched posture, surprised eyes meeting his neutral expression. Vacations were meant for fun, not the work you were trying to escape from. With Jeongguk here, you really can’t slack off. You quickly clear your items from the small table and gesture for him to sit.

“Terrible connection in the cottage.” You remark. “Gave me problems all morning.”

He hums, typing away on the laptop to make up for the lost time. You fall back into your work too seeing that there was a good motivator.

On your left side, there’s a small bowl of olives paired with the wine Jihyo delivered to your shared cottage. Jeongguk stares at the bowl, following one of the olives held by your fingers and popped in between your plump lips.

A small puff of air escapes through his nose at your winced expression from the initial burst of flavors, washing it down with a swig of wine.

“Would you like to try?” You push the bowl towards him.

“Didn’t look all that good.” He stares up, glasses slipping down the bridge of his nose. Though small, you detect a teasing tone in his comment.

“It was … different. But!” You perk, “When will we be in Italy again, in a beautiful villa eating olives while working?”

Answer? Never.

Such a ridiculous thought that he reaches into the small ceramic bowl to plop an olive into his mouth. The bitter tang of the small fruit amplifies on his tongue from your expectant stare.

Not unpleasant, but there were plenty of other cuisine choices in Italy worth trying. 

Though, when will Jeon Jeongguk be in Italy again, in a beautiful villa eating olives while working with your melodic laughter resonating in his ears as you scoot your wine glass over to him?

Tongue no longer graced with the olive’s bitterness, a new type of bitterness spreads as Seojun and Jihyo announce they’re headed to the beach.

“How much longer do you need to work?” Jihyo pouts, hands on her hips as she peers down at your laptop. She’s not reading anything you have opened, deeming them unimportant especially when you should be spending time with her.

You offer a sheepish smile, afraid to voice your true thoughts in front of management. Jeongguk keeps his face trained to his screen, brows twitching in an attempt to hide his bemusement.

Had it been anyone else in front of you, you’d throw your hands in the air and say ‘Fuck it.’ But it was Jeongguk … one of the higher-ups you’d always admired — whose opinion you immensely cared for. 

“Uncle …” Seojun frowns. “You promised you weren’t going to work.”

“Code red. Need to take care of this.” Jeongguk explains.

Seojun sighs, the expression resounds his frustration to his uncle’s work habits.

In the short span of time working at the company, you’ve never seen Jeongguk falter; yet, the man seated across from you wavers at his nephew’s disappointment.

“It’ll be quick.” He remedies.

You also know Jeongguk took his time. He’s meticulous and wants everything right the first time around. It appears Seojun knows this too, not taking his promises too seriously, and grunting a small ‘okay’ before he takes Jihyo’s hand to lead them both to the beach.

Jeongguk purses his lips, a vexed expression he doesn’t let linger for long. You shouldn’t meddle with family affairs, but you couldn’t help thinking back to the missed dinners, absent parent recitals, and text messages telling you to not wait up late from your father. 

“Work’s never that important.” The words slip past your mouth before realizing it.

Jeongguk isn’t afraid to voice his response too, seemingly prepared for your judgment. 

“Easy for you to say.” His eyes narrow. “Some people aren’t afforded breaks.”

You take another bite of the olives, hoping the flavor would conceal the shame. The invisible wall between you and Jeongguk grows higher and thicker, making it impossible to penetrate. You refocus on the task at hand. 

Three hours pass with the sound of birds and ocean in the background — the sounds would have been enough for anyone to relax into their work, but all it does is make you yearn for fun. Makes you think anything might be better than being with the man seated across from you. Which is so unlike you when just a week ago, you’d do just about anything to be closer to him in the office. 

Every five minutes, you have to look at the shoreline and the people enjoying the summer rays. It was a good distraction until the envy sets in.

Another deep sigh.

“Go.”

“Huh?” You look up from your laptop. 

“I have access to your document in the shared drive. You won’t be leaving any time soon at the rate you’re moving.” He takes off his glasses, index and thumb pinching and rubbing to relieve himself of any tension. “Go spend some time with Jihyo.”

You almost think it’s a test until he looks at you questioningly for not having moved. You scramble to close out everything after a quick thank you before going back into the cottage to change. You shouldn’t feel guilty as you slip into your swimsuit and cover-up … shouldn’t feel guilty exiting the property, sneaking one final look back at the patio.

You shouldn’t ache the way you do for Jeongguk’s content smile when he nears the lemon tree.

Even Jeon Jeongguk needs breaks too.

You blame the aches from having laid down in the sand for an hour and not at the image of him back at the villa taking on your unfinished work. He made his decision, so why are you still feeling this way? 

“Uncle!” Seojun beams. “You made it.”

At the acknowledgment, you lift your head up and it’s none other than the man who’s plagued your mind since you’ve left the villa. He’s changed into lighter clothing, a short-sleeve button up over his white tank top with some beach shorts. The tight tank top hugs around his figure, ab ridges outlined from his small chuckle. The contraction intensifies when he looks down at you and over your stringy two-piece bikini.

He clears his throat. “Was able to wrap up what I needed to get done for the day.”

“Good.” Seojun replies. “Should enjoy our time while we can.”

Jeongguk’s face falls; immediately, the moment’s swept away when Jihyo calls for Seojun to help her take pictures. 

The older male settles next to you, mindful to not kick up any sand in the process. The couple eventually go to get some refreshments, leaving both you and Jeongguk under the rays of the sun.

He doesn’t say much … actually, he doesn’t say anything as he stares out to the bluest waters. 

“Thank you, Jeongguk.” You say. “You didn’t have to.”

You wonder if your father had acted the same at work, taking on additional workload he didn’t necessarily have to at the expense of missing out on moments in your life.

Jeongguk isn’t your father. He didn’t have obligations to you. Didn’t need to sacrifice his own time for your sake.

The center of a candy was usually the sweetest — perhaps if you keep at it, you’ll discover more of Jeongguk’s sweetness too. 

⋆｡𖦹 ˚ 𓇼 ˚｡⋆

Being around Jeongguk has been a tad more tangible now that you’ve spent a few hours together the next couple of days working in the morning, ending the nights over dinner with the couple. 

The next evening, Jihyo has you all crammed in a kitchen for a cooking lesson with a private chef. You’re on garlic peeling duties with Jeongguk, fingers sticky from the essence of the individual cloves, so sure this scent was going to linger on your skin.

Jeongguk remains unaffected, diligently peeling away. At the sight of you rubbing your sticky fingers together, he chuckles.

“Just wash your hands in between.”

The advice works. While you’ve barely peeled half a clove, Jeongguk was already on his second. 

“Did you have ‘pro-garlic peeler’ on your resume?” You try teasing.

He pauses, a small smile on his lips as he continues peeling the cloves.

“My sister had me on garlic peeling duties whenever we cooked.”

As far as you’re aware from Jihyo, the topic of Seojun’s mother was unspoken … only knowing she passed when he was very young. 

You work a little harder peeling the leftover cloves, running your hands under the faucet to rid yourself of the stickiness. The stickiness retained in your chest whenever Jeongguk peers over at your pile of perfectly peeled garlic. It’s retained throughout dinner and the glasses of wine served during and after a meal, following you as the group takes a walk on the beach the night before the rest of the wedding party was scheduled to meet for the rehearsal dinner tomorrow.

Jihyo yawns and announces she’ll head back to the villa to rest. Naturally, Seojun follows along. You expect Jeongguk to do the same, but he sits on the brick wall staring out at the beach.

You tuck your hair behind your ear and a strong, pungent scent greets you. Hand discreetly at the front of your face, you sniff.

“The smell doesn’t leave for a bit.” Jeongguk says. “My sister always recommended lemon juice and a little bit of soap.” 

“Have you tried it?” You ask, tucking your hands underneath you to hide the excitement of Jeongguk initiating a conversation with you. 

He shakes his head, “I like the smell of garlic.”

Be it from the glasses of wine served over dinner, you’re bolder as you ask about his sister. And he’s just as loose-lipped as he recalls memories of her. You learned she was four years older than Jeongguk, her first job was at their aunt and uncle’s convenience store, and they were ultimately left to fend for themselves the moment she had Seojun at eighteen.

Every story, small chuckle, and silence of the memory of his sister only softens the hard, jagged edges around Jeongguk.

“She sounds lovely.”

“She was,” he concedes, “Would’ve loved Italy too.” He speaks into the sea-salted air. He leans back, hands anchoring himself up as he looks up at the clear night sky. “Maybe give her son an earful about marrying too early.” She’d know firsthand how she lost out on her own developmental years as a result of having Seojun early with a man that wanted no part in fatherhood. Though, a small part of Jeongguk knows his sister would’ve adored Jihyo.

Back at the villa’s garden, you make a quick detour to the lemon tree, picking one from the bottom branches.

The lemon doesn’t get used quite yet when you both enter into the stuffy cottage. You and Jeongguk reopen all the windows to let some fresh air in.

You eye the unopened wine bottle — the night’s gone too well to end like this. Lemon placed on the counter, it’s spared and unscathed for the time being as you pop off the cork. 

Wordlessly, you pour and slide the glass over to a receptive Jeongguk.

One glass turns to three over the course of the night. The alcohol loosens the year’s worth of work tension, eyes blinking slowly as he swirls the glass around.

“Do you plan to stay with the company until retirement?” You ask.

“Depends.”

“On?”

“If I have to keep overseeing project leads who can’t make their deadlines.”

Had you both been less drunk and not seated on the high stools of this lovely cottage in Sicily, you’d be more offended. Eyes bemused and lips curved at your exaggerated gasp, Jeongguk brings the glass of wine to his mouth, red staining and deepening the natural shade of pink on his lips.

You’ll take this. It’s a development in comparison to what you’ve experienced in working with the company … not to mention the ride on the gondola. You like this Jeongguk. Where he isn’t going on a tangent about deliverables and Key Performance Indicators.

“What about you?” He asks.

You swallow the last of the wine in your glass. “I’m not sure.”

Honestly, you thought you’d be at another place of employment after your one year anniversary at the company. Yet, you’re still here.

“Huh.”

“What?”

“Answered like a person with one foot out the door.” He shrugs.

“I don’t mind the company.” You pout.

He rolls his eyes. “You’re young. There’s more out there.”

“You’re staying.”

“Never said I was.”

Wait … you hadn’t accounted for the fact of Jeongguk leaving one day. He has so much more years of experience than you, so having a promotion elsewhere would be a cake walk. One of your incentives to stay might disappear one day without warning and it frightens you. 

“The benefits are nice.” You reason. “It’s worth staying for.”

“The benefits are standard. Hm.” He purses his lips. Then, an expression you’ve never once witnessed stretches across his face. “That hot manager Jihyo mentioned can’t be enough incentive to stay.”

“She’s lucky she’s my best friend.” You groan. 

He laughs through his nose, “You’ll know if a company is worth staying for. Don’t be afraid to venture out.”

Friends and family have often told you to look for a higher paying job after every promotion — never concerned whether you’re content with where you’re at.

You find it hard to believe just a couple days ago, Jeongguk was grilling you for being a nepo-baby, and now he’s mentoring you over wine. You take in his words, letting them swirl in your mind before shaking away thoughts of the future. 

“Thanks, I’ll keep that in mind.”

He nods, taking another small sip, “If only Seojun listened more like that. That brat.” He lowers his head with a fond smile, orbs glimmering like the wine glass caught in the light.

You should hold off from asking any overbearing questions and end tonight on a high note, but that just wasn’t your style.

“Do you not support their marriage?”

“It’s unfavorable.” He sighs. “I’m sure Jihyo’s nice—”

“She is.” You interrupt.

“But she’s reckless and so is my nephew. They didn’t think this through.” A pause. “Doing things out of love only gets you so far.”

If life wasn’t about love, then what could it possibly be about?

He chuckles and mumbles to himself, “She’s too much like her.”

“Huh? Who?” Your brows scrunch from the cryptic words, trying to decipher who he was referring to. Foolish of you to think he’d answer as he gets up and empties his glass of wine into the sink, eyes locked on the counter where the lemon resides.

You were going to ask if he’d like to use the lemon too; though, he beats you to your question when he tucks in the stool.

“Get some rest, we have a long day tomorrow.”

You exert all your energy into the lemon, squeezing and wringing out the halved fruit to distract you of the confusion. Have you pushed for too much? Were you out of line wanting to know more about Jeongguk? You hope the lingering thoughts of your cottage mate disappears with the garlic stench after a thorough soak. 

After your shower, you take one last peek at his door and the light emitting from the small slit persists even through the late hours. Was he still working or also plagued with the thoughts of tonight’s conversation?

It’s a little past midnight when you emerge into the kitchen again to get a glass of water only to notice a slightly ajar front door.

101 Dumb Ways to Die would commend you and your efforts to close the door. Your fingers touch the doorknob, ready to twist and secure the locks. 

You die a little inside when you spot a figure outside near the lemon tree.

Jeongguk. 

He sits there, staring at his hands before he lifts one of them up to his face. A small sniff, then his hand falls onto his lap again.

You lean against a nearby wall, hand clutching the glass of water close to your chest.

He bends down from his seated position and grabs a fallen lemon, uncaring if it came from the top or the bottom branch. Suddenly, he stands up and makes his way back to the cottage again.

“Fuck!” You whisper yell, scrambling to go back to your room but your foot catches onto your other ankle and you’re sent flying to the floor with the glass of water held close to your chest to brace the fall and potential damage.

Aside from a wet shirt and the bruise forming on your knee, the glass was still intact. What wasn’t intact was your pride as Jeongguk opens the door to find you laying on your side.

His eyes widen, immediately crouching down to check your conditions. “Are you okay?” 

You could fake an episode of sleepwalking and walk back to your room, wet shirt and all, but then you’ll be labeled as the colleague who sleepwalks.

“Oof,” You grab his extended hand, the one without the lemon, and pull yourself up to a sitting position. “Y-yeah, um, just wanted some water.” You peer down at the pool of water around you and flush harder.

He grabs a nearby cloth to clean up the mess and when he’s done, he holds his hand out again, “Can you stand?”

You nod, hand engulfed in his warmth as he tugs you up along with him. You walk stiffly next to him and thank him after he hands you a spare towel in the kitchen. 

You should return to your room to nurse your broken pride; yet, your feet stay planted as Jeongguk gets out the cutting board.

“Oh, there’s still half a lemon in the fridge.” 

Nodding, he retrieves the lemon and he squeezes the sliced half with ease. He dips his fingers in first, spreading the juice all over his hands and in between the crevices just as you did. You watch his fingers spread the juices all over the top of his veiny hands, light from the kitchen emulating the glisten on his skin.

A tingly sensation starts at your fingertips and you clench your fists tightly before it travels up your arms, unsure why your body is reacting at the simple act.

God, did you hit your head on something during the fall? 

“You sure you’re okay?” He asks, breaking you out of your daze.

You blink, body automatically moving around to check for any soreness. High knees in place and a twist to your side, you confirm your health condition. You do one last stretch, intertwining your fingers and reaching up to the ceiling.

All’s well, so it seems.

Actually, no.

The action lifts your camisole, exposing the lower half of your stomach. Jeongguk’s gaze dips to your full hips and areas where the sun can’t fully reach. 

“Yeah, all good.” You swallow, arms coming down and holding your hands behind your back.

Lights shut off, you and Jeongguk make your way back to your bedrooms, steps heavier as you near your door. 

Suddenly, your hand reaches out, weak fingers wrapped around his wrist. He looks down at you with a raised brow, unmoving, so you tighten your grip around him. 

“I saw you outside.” You confess, voice small and hesitant. “Are you okay?”

Jeongguk didn’t owe you an answer. But after all the time spent leading up to this moment, you think something should’ve changed by now. 

His jaw clenches, eyes swirling with a mixture of uncertainty and discomfort as he considers the option of being honest.

He purses his lips and shakes his head no. 

Be it your underdeveloped prefrontal lobe or your innate desire to fix a troubled man, your fingers tighten around his wrist.

“Is there something I can do–” The latter part of your question gets cut short at another shake of his head. 

Your default solution is to deflect and lessen the embarrassment with cynicalism and a humorless laugh. “I know you hate me and all–”

He laughs, too — the dullness masking the irritability behind your unfinished statement.

“I don’t hate you.” He pauses and ponders his next words. “Whatever I’m going through right now has nothing to do with how I feel about you.”

Maybe … if you do make it about you, Jeongguk might forget about his bigger worries. The day has gone so well and all your effort’s about to be undone with what you do next. You step closer, gleaning at his reaction and any indication of his repulsion from your proximity.

“If we didn’t work at the same company, how would you feel about me then?” You ask.

His stare darkens. Pattern recognition from all the other fleeting moments in Italy only pushes you to do something you’d never have the courage to in a professional environment where you’d both break all code of conduct. 

What happens in Italy, stays in Italy … right?

“We’d get along.” You answer for him.

“We’d be strangers.” He corrects. “I don’t need twenty year old friends listening to my problems.”

Good thing you’re not twenty and good thing you don’t want to be friends with Jeongguk. In the span of this conversation, you and Jeongguk now share the same air and warmth as you press your front to his hard chest. He doesn’t pull away from your softness whether it be through the silky camisole, your nature, or exposed skin … he lets himself soak in what you offer him.

And when you tip-toe closer to his face, he doesn’t move, allowing you to do as you like despite all signs in his head telling him to turn you away.

“We’d get along.” You repeat, eyes bold and hopeful as you stare into his hooded ones. “You’d let me help you forget about your problems.”

Cause you’d create new ones for Jeon Jeongguk as you press your lips to his. 

The original hold you had on his wrist ceases as your nimble fingers find refuge on the ends of his cotton shirt. Your thighs tense from the vibrations of his small groan, the pleasure pangs intensifying when his hands cup your jaw. Lips soft and so rightfully slotted on yours, your eyes flutter shut and embrace the abundant hues of yellow and green similar to the villa’s lemon tree. 

The crisp citrus scent from his fingers warms and melts you further into his lips. He parts his mouth slightly, and for a moment, just a moment … you hope he’d run his tongue on yours.

Your hope gets wringed out like the used lemons residing in the wastebin the exact moment he says your name and pulls away, chest moving in tandem with his strained breaths. 

“This isn’t right.” He breathes, swallowing as he steps back to create some space between your bodies.

“I–”

“Goodnight.”

His door shuts, no different than how he shuts you out of the life you hoped to get a better glimpse of. Your fingers trace your lips, remembering how he felt against you before he took everything including your pride with him. You also shut your door, only bringing humiliation and rejection back in with you.

⋆｡𖦹 ˚ 𓇼 ˚｡⋆

You barely slept. 

Instead, you chose to put in the extra work you needed to meet your deliverables for your client. You locked yourself in the bedroom — rather brave through the shitty internet connection until it was time to meet up with the rest of the bridal party who arrived last night.  

“So,” Yebin starts, “I hear the best man is a hottie and you’re staying in the same cottage as him?”

You splutter into your drink, quickly grabbing the napkin on your lap to dab away the cascading liquid on your chin.

“Uh, wha–”

“Jihyo mentioned it in the group chat. What? Been too busy with him to catch up in the thread?” She wiggles her brows with a playful grin.

You push your body forward to give Jihyo a tiny glare. She sits prettily at the top of the table, the only person wearing white while the rest of you were in different variations of yellow to match the wedding theme.

“What?” She says with a mouthful. “He is objectively handsome. Not a surprise, I mean, look at my Seojun.”

“Isn’t he in his forties?” Another one of the girls asks.

“Thirty-seven.” Jihyo corrects. “We celebrated his birthday recently.”

“Basically forty.” Yebin retorts and turns back to you. “So what’s he like?”

You’re thankful for the soft breeze in the midst of Italy’s humid summer — helps you cool the sweat sitting uncomfortably on your skin, both from the rising afternoon temperatures and last night’s memories. 

“He’s … fine.” You pause and try to come up with other adjectives to better describe him, ultimately coming short and resorting to a foolproof excuse. “We haven’t really spoken.”

“Oh, please. Aside from his nephew, Jeongguk’s more friendly with you than he has been to me.”

Yeah, ‘cause you also work in the same building as him forty hours a week for the past year, but no one here needs to know that. The conversation eventually shifts over to Jihyo’s wedding itinerary, makeup and hair plans, and what the other girls plan to do after the wedding dinner rehearsal. You enjoyed your time in the smaller group, but you also valued the community the other girls brought in this part of the trip. You visit the nearby boutiques, splurge on things you could most definitely find back at home, because … when were you going to be in Italy with your girls again?

“Remember, be there at 8 p.m. The venue’s gates close five minutes after.” Jihyo reminds.

“Yes, ma’am. Got it marked down in our calendars.” Yebin yawns, still slightly jetlagged and ready for a much needed nap after the day’s festivities. You and Jihyo drop off the girls at the front of their hotel and begin the walk back to the villa. Would’ve been quicker to take a cab, but Jihyo wanted to walk off her second gelato and you didn’t mind not being in the same vicinity as your cottage mate all that soon.

“You nervous for tomorrow?” You ask, steps slowing as you both near the villa.

“No,” she smiles fondly at a passing thought. “But I am anxious for the future. Don’t know how long it’ll be till my parents want to talk to me.”

You’ve thought about the times you’ve fought with your parents — nothing as big as marrying someone they didn’t approve of. Hopefully Jihyo’s parents will come around. Love, from a parent at least, should be unconditional. 

She reads your thoughts with a chuckle and nudge to your shoulder. “Hey, I’m okay. It’s me and Seojun against the world.”

“They’ll come around.” You reassure. “You also have your friends too, so you’re never alone.”

⋆｡𖦹 ˚ 𓇼 ˚｡⋆

“And then, the maid of honor and best man will walk here.” Violetta, the wedding planner, points down the long stretch to the altar. 

She looks over to the group, trying to single out the girl with that title since Jeongguk was the only male aside from the groom. You step out, having avoided Jeongguk all day with the wedding party, there are just some things you can’t avoid.

You avoid looking at the older man, keeping your stares locked on the wedding planner and aisle markings.

“Oh, to be maid of honor.” Yebin mumbles jokingly and the group of girls erupt into a small fit of giggles.

Jeongguk pays no mind and extends his arm for you to hold. Practice. Yes, this was still a rehearsal. You might’ve imagined his tense inhale as you press your body closer, breast pushing against his arm to see if the action could produce a similar sound or reaction.

Nothing.

After the rehearsal, you and Jeongguk still avoid each other like the plague, unwilling to address the elephant in the room. You try to sleep, tossing and turning all night until you made the executive decision for some much needed fresh air.

Part of you worries Jeongguk might also be outside, claiming the lemon tree as his area of respite. Can’t be his if you claimed it first. Unfortunately, the spot was occupied … not by him at least.

Pulling the metal chair, Seojun looks up, startled, but relaxes at the sight of a familiar face.

“Can’t sleep?” He asks.

“Yeah. Too stuffy in the cottage.” You lie, unwilling to admit the actual source of your unrest. “You?”

“Yeah.” He looks into the distance, worries swirling in his orbs. “I think my uncle’s right.”

Your brows pull together, head tilting in confusion.

“We’re too rash. Jihyo’s parents might never speak to her again and it’s all my fault. And I,” Seojun begins to crumble at the weight of his realization. “I don’t know if I’m enough for her to lose everything.”

You know more than anyone that there are some things money and power can’t buy. Jihyo wasn’t risking anything because Seojun was everything. Because if life wasn’t about love, then what was it about?

“You’re enough for Jihyo.”

“Uncle said–”

“Screw what Jeongguk thinks.” You interrupt, gasping at your sudden abrasiveness. “Wait, I don’t mean any offense to your uncle …”

His laugh could’ve woken up the entire villa, but you’re thankful to see this side of him in comparison to how he was a moment ago. 

“No, no,” he chuckles, “I know he’s not the most likeable person.”

“He’s not … awful.”

Seojun nods, tilting his head down to conceal a tender smile you’ve witnessed whenever he was around Jihyo — now you understand those were reserved for his loved ones. “He used to be different … lighter, does that even make sense?”

You agree, waiting for Seojun’s next words.

“Uncle was fun.” You learn how Jeongguk would take little Seojun to the zoo every year because his mother would be too busy with work, along with the late night video game sessions he would partake in despite his busy university schedule.

“He was in his second year of university preparing to study abroad … I don’t know much, but something didn’t work out and another student was chosen instead of him. Mom worked hard so that she could support uncle and his dreams.”

“Worked too hard — damn workaholics.” His smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “I know he means well not wanting me to rush into things without a proper safety net.”

You think back to a younger Jeongguk navigating life alone with a young child … he couldn’t have been any older than you — a baby raising another baby with no one to turn to.

“Ah, I’m sorry,” Seojun shakes away some thoughts, “I didn’t mean to dump all of this on you. I’m sure you’re tired–”

“No, no,” You wave your hands. “I don’t mind. You’re marrying my best friend and whether her family or Jeongguk approves, it doesn’t matter. I’ve seen how happy you make her — how relaxed she is around you.” You offer a warm and comforting smile to which Seojun returns at the mention of your friend. “We’re both in this for Jihyo’s happiness. You deserve to be happy too.” 

“Yeah, we do.” He replies, shoulders sagging in relief.

You linger outside a little longer after Seojun’s departure, begrudgingly going back into the cottage. Before entering your room, you take one look at Jeongguk’s room, noting the small sliver of light from underneath his door.

You think back to all the late nights waiting for your father’s lights to turn off … wondering when you’d be enough for his attention. And as you shut your door to your room, you hope that was enough to garner Jeongguk’s attention too. 

⋆｡𖦹 ˚ 𓇼 ˚｡⋆

Jihyo loved everything about yellow. Loved the song by Coldplay and loved her flowers yellow — thinks she saw yellow when she met Seojun. Her bridesmaid dresses had to be yellow, as with everything in the wedding.

You see yellow everywhere too: the sand in the distance, wedding favors in the form of bagged perle di sole candies, and the boutonniere pinned on the left side of Jeongguk’s vest.

Yellow blurs around you during the ceremony, tearful gazes exchanged with the other bridesmaids. 

Jihyo had always centered her world around her friendships — no man has ever been enough to pull her away from that value. Though, as she stands across from Seojun, her hands in his, it seemed as though nothing could’ve pried them apart from each other’s gravitational pulls. Your eyes peer over the wedding attendees, taking in their expectant stares and proud smiles — even Jeongguk seemed to have softened at the sight. 

When it was time for the vows, you hand them over to Jihyo from behind, who took them without turning around, eyes still locked onto her soon-to-be husband.

She takes a steadying breath before speaking: “Seojun. These past years with you have been the happiest of my life. I could’ve never imagined meeting anyone like you. Now, I won’t call you my best friend, because that spot is taken and I think my lovely maid of honor might have some things to say about that–” The wedding party sounded a collective chuckle. You smile to yourself, eyes instinctively finding Jeongguk’s, who had already been looking your way in confirmation of your title.

“But I’m so happy to have found you, that I’m able to call you my friend, lover, and now, husband. I know a lot of people thought we were rushing into this, and they might be right. It is early, but I’ve never been as certain about anything as I am about wanting to spend the rest of my life with you. Seojun, you are the most wonderful and kindest person — better than I can ever hope to deserve, I love you.” Her voice had become increasingly more unstable as she went and she quickly wiped her eyes, not wanting to ruin her bridal make-up. Seojun wasn’t fairing any better, softly cupping her cheek and kissing her lips, whispering a small gratitude to her.

“Excuse me?” The officiant interrupts. “We’re not quite there yet.” 

Laughing, the pair separates and refocuses their attention back to the ceremony. You turn to your fellow bridesmaids after hearing a quiet sniffle from Yebin. You carefully lean back into her, nudging her shoulder in comfort. 

“Jihyo, you son of a bitch.” The girl mutters, dotting the corner of her eye with a tissue. 

You chuckle, moving back into your position after assessing everyone’s conditions.

When you find the confidence to check on Jeongguk, he’s just as affected and politely turns away from the couple to hide his emotions.

At the wedding reception, you watch Jihyo and her husband dance to every song on their playlist, joined by their guests, eventually being the last ones standing as the night progresses. The ache on the soles of your feet grow by the hour, and you find yourself sitting alone, nursing your drink and watching your best friend soak in happiness.

Yellow persists in the form of strung lights on the small dance floor. Though, a new opponent, green, enters when you catch some wedding guests approaching an unsuspecting Jeongguk.

As the maid of honor, you should stay for the night even if it’s nearing 2 a.m. Selfishly, you can’t bring yourself to. You tell Jihyo you’re not feeling well and that you’re going to walk back to the cottage to rest. She looks at you with concern, but she nods and asks you to text her once you’ve made it back.

Ten steps out the venue, you hear some whistles and chuckles. Shit. You walk quicker and a slimy hand wraps around your wrist.

The men smile at you, saying something you can’t really decipher. If all fails after your persistent ignorance to the Italian language, your heels make an excellent weapon of defense.

“C'è un problema?” A familiar voice says in the distance.

Immediately, the man releases your wrist and holds his hands up. The group of men shuffles away, mumbling to themselves as they look back at your savior.

“You okay?” Jeongguk asks.

“Yep.” You answer quickly, steps resuming in the direction of the villa.

Jeongguk follows closely behind you, silent as he has been all night.

“Aren’t you supposed to stay with the bride? Maid of honor duties.”

“Aren’t you supposed to stay with the groom? Best man duties.” You retort with no malice.

“Touché.” He contemplates his next words. “I’ve got an early flight tomorrow.”

Your brows furrow, and an immature part of you assumes you’re the reason for his early departure. He quickly follows up with, “There’s a fire I have to put out at work.”

The bitter memories of your father leaving for work resurfaces again. Would it be so awful to not think about work and be with his loved ones?

You wave off those feelings and express your gratitude instead. “Thanks for helping me back there. You never mentioned knowing Italian.”

Would’ve come in handy during the ample times you all had to order food, but this was not the right moment to joke. 

“Studied some basic phrases before going abroad. Didn’t end up in Italy though.”

You freeze a little, remembering the small detail Seojun mentioned the night before about Jeongguk’s missed opportunity. 

Silence takes over and continues even as you both face your bedroom doors.

“Jeongguk.” You say, before he enters his room. “I hope what happened between us doesn’t impact our work. Please forget it happened — I’m truly ashamed and sorry.”

He nods, jaw clenched and tense. 

“Have a safe flight home. See you in the office.” No other words are needed in your retreat back into your room.

The knot at the back of your neck strains and you can’t wait to finally shed your makeup, tight bun, and dress.

You [2:18 a.m.]: Made it to the cottage 💛 Bestie Ji [2:19 a.m.]: GOOD Bestie Ji [2:19 a.m.]: JEONGGU SAI HES HEDIN TO COTT TO Bestie Ji [2:19 a.m.]: ILY Bestie Ji [2:19 a.m.]: im drun

You smile at your phone, typing a quick reply and before you hit enter, you hear a knock on your door.

Door swung open, your eyes widen at the sight of Jeongguk, tie loose around his neck and hair tussled as if he ruminated for an eternity before knocking your door.

“It’s been nice with you in Italy.” His arm from behind comes to the front with a small object. You remember it from your last day in Venice: the green masquerade mask. “Safe travels home.”

You take the little green mask in your hands, frown deepening at the sentiment.

“Why would you get this for me?” You ask.

His tongue probes against his cheek, eyes coming down to look at your figure in your yellow halter dress. The same fleeting stares you’ve grown accustomed to in the time spent in Italy, unaware these glances have always existed without your knowledge back at home. He laughs through his nose and shakes his head.

He brings his eyes back to your face. “You’re a smart girl, graduated with honors and all … so think a little harder for me.”

You shake your head, afraid of the aftermath of another wrong move that could jeopardize your heart.

“I don’t know if I can …”

Leaders take the initiative — you’re nowhere near that point in your career and life. Jeongguk recognizes this too, which is why he walks you backwards into the room. His fingers trace the intricate beadings on the mask still in your hands.

“Here, we’re just two people who met through the people we love. No roles or responsibilities. I only know you as Jihyo’s friend. You’re just … you, and I’m just Jeongguk.”

“And who are you, Jeongguk?” You place the mask onto a nearby dresser, eyes never leaving the man in front of you.

He looks down at you again, a type of stare only capable of burning and tainting every inch of your being. He’s afraid to admit who he really is — what he actually wants, knowing he can’t fully have even if it was ready for him to take. Though, with only a couple hours to spare in Italy, he wants to use what little time he has on an experience he would never let himself indulge in back at home.

It’s what vacations are meant for, right?

“Someone that wants your help. Someone that wants to finish what you started two nights ago.” He answers.

It doesn’t make sense with you — he doesn’t make sense with you just like when he leans down to press his lips on yours. The kiss is punishing, no colors of yellow like the kiss from two nights ago. Yellow is only meant for lovers and Jeongguk is no lover. Would be the only logical reason you’d now see black and blue  — colors of old bruises and wounds left unattended for too long, and Jeongguk has far too many to count. 

“Fuck,” He says in between kisses, shrugging off his vest, “Tell me to stop.”

You whimper, shaking your head and looping your arms over his neck to bring him closer. He pushes his tongue past your lips, savoring the way you moan around and suck on his wet muscle. 

The only thing that makes sense is how your dress, the only yellow left, needs to come off. Your hands move behind your neck to undo the tight knot, letting the top fall down your front. Taking Jeongguk’s large hands, you take note of their softness, like sand — so malleable and so much harder to hold. You place them on your breasts instead. 

He groans, the sound so painful and full of want to give into his desires.

“This can’t mean anything.” He says through a harsh breath. “You know that, right?”

“It’s okay.” You reply, moaning again as the pressure from his hands increases. “I’m … I’m okay with that.”

You’re not and Jeongguk knows this too. He’s aware of the subtle glances in the time he’s worked with you, your shift in demeanor when he enters a room, and how your eyes search for his approval when none was ever needed. He knows you won’t be okay with this just being a one night stand or quick fuck, but it has to be because you and Jeongguk don’t make sense.

Not under the dull fluorescent lights of the company building, not in Italy.

His teeth grazes your skin, leaving a trail of pain and pleasure behind its wake. You quiver and his body presses harder against yours in panic that if he leaves any space in between, the distance would only grow should he second-guess. 

Dress bunched up at your midsection, he turns you away, eyes immediately landing where your mistake from your teenage years resided right above your pert ass. 

Was this going to be another mistake too?

Your hands brace yourself on the dresser, arching from his hand tracing down your back and down your ass. He pauses and waits for your nod to proceed. Palm up, he runs his hand over the pathetic cloth you’d call your underwear now completely soaked through and scrunched to the side of your pussy.

He sucks in a breath, “Kissing gets you like this, hm?”

You shudder, praying he eventually moves. His middle finger probes gently at your sodden folds, gathering your arousal. He stays doing this for a couple minutes, listening to your soft sighs, wondering when you’d begin to beg for him to continue.

And when you don’t ask for more, it aggravates him realizing he’s the one who needs more out of something that’s supposed to be meaningless. As the older adult, he should be the gentleman with better restraint, but he’s here in your room seeking something he can’t find anywhere else:

A distraction from all the buried guilt and pain — for once, he wants to win.

He somehow gets you perched on the dresser, head between your thighs as he eats you out both as a punishment and reward. The bottom half of your dress hangs over the side of your hips, thighs spread wide open as Jeongguk thrusts his tongue into your cunt.

He knows this is just sex … worse that you’re a younger colleague whom he has vehemently denied his attractions for. But he’s here in Italy where he’s tasted olives, rinsed his memories of past loved ones with citrus … he should enjoy this trip — enjoy you. Because when was Jeongguk going to be in Italy again fucking you in a shared cottage?

“Jeong–fuck, m-yeah, right there.” You cheer, fingers carding through his hair.

Your encouragement only spurs him on to work harder, lapping over your swollen clit until you tense and cease all noise in concentration for the impending orgasm. It’s all over when you fight his hold and win the battle with your legs clamped tightly around his head. You cum with a small sob, thighs shaking around him as he continues to eat you out.

He replaces his tongue with two fingers, lazily pumping his digits in you while he kisses your lips with the taste of you still on his tongue. Meanwhile, you fumble clumsily with his buttons and zipper, jaded by how much you want him.

He’s just as eager, moaning and grinding his cock into your hand when you’ve finally freed him of his confinements. 

Hoisting you in his arms, he brings you to the edge of your bed, groaning at how you automatically spread wider on the softer surface. So ready for him to do more with you until he realizes:

“Shit, I don’t have a condom.”

You hold yourself up with your forearms, legs still spread wide open for him despite his hesitance to move forward. His teeth sink onto his bottom lip, troubled dimples appearing as he stares at your glistening pussy clenching around nothing. 

“I’m on birth control.” You assure and add, “You can pull out if you want.”

What’s another bad idea added into the pile?

He strokes over his length, squeezing harder at the tip and lines himself up. You whine and circle your hips from the hard poke at your entrance, arousal coating his bare cock. He doesn’t push himself in just yet, watching as a bead of precum smears at your opening … a silent territorial marking. 

You’re his for tonight.

His thumb lands on your clit, rubbing it up and down. You keen, eyes shutting to concentrate on the added stimulation around the bundle of nerves.

“You’ve always been too rash on your decisions.” He pushes the tip of his cock into you, teeth biting the inside of his cheek. “Gotta work on that.” As if he’s not about to make an irrevocable mistake himself.

“High risk, high rewards … r-right?” You stammer through a shaky breath as he pushes more of him into you, uncaring that there’d been little to no prep. But that doesn’t matter, all your fantasies were coming true at this very moment and you’ll take whatever he gives you.

He gives you two more orgasms. One with your ankles by his ears. The other one where you lay on your side, memorizing the way his fingers dig into your skin as he pumps his thick shaft into you. You hike your knee closer to your chest to allow him to sink even deeper into you, hitting a specific spot repeatedly to burn figments of stars behind your lids.

The room’s hot and musty — didn’t help that neither of you remembered to air out the cottage upon arrival, but no one cared about that at the moment. Your sweat gathers behind your knees and drips down the slope of your thighs as Jeongguk continues fucking you into the mattress with an intense need.

“Gonna cum.” He announces, jaw going slack as his balls grow heavy with the need to release. “Fuck, I’m gonna cum.”

“Want you to cum for me.” You nod, and the slapping of his skin on yours grows as he moves quicker and harder. 

You moan, brows scrunched in anticipation for Jeongguk to pull out and the feeling of being stuffed full by him will cease all together. And through your past experiences with other men, sex typically ends once they cum, so you ready yourself for the mirage to end — ready yourself to face reality again. Your lower half relaxes, waiting for him to turn your body so that he could unload everything on your stomach.

Two things happen.

He pushes deep inside you, stilling as he fills you with his arousal.

Hands soft as sand, cradle your jaw for a searing kiss to conceal words he shouldn’t utter to a colleague, let alone a direct report.

Minutes pass like this and you come to find out: sex doesn’t stop when Jeongguk finishes inside you.

He lays down next to you and hoists your body on top of his, movements swift in slipping his sensitive cock back into your cum-filled hole. He hisses, fighting through the overstimulation in acceptance of the punishment for all the terrible acts he’s committed with you. Again, both a punishment and a reward as he lets you ride him, watching the way your hips roll smoothly over his. Your mixed juices trail down his length and over his balls the more you move and bounce.

He doesn’t tell you to give him another orgasm, knowing you’re working hard to get there again. 

“Don’t wanna stop. Wanna do this with you all night long.” Your breath hitches as the pleasure shifts into a type of pain no one can see. And no matter how you try to fight the physical effects of the hardest orgasm of your life, your body gives into the exhaustion and slumps over Jeongguk’s sweaty body.

In your slumber, you feel the sand, the breeze, and the absence of another human body. The next morning only proves your reality when you wake up clothed and sore from last night’s affair … with Jeongguk nowhere in sight.

You frown, tucking the sheets closer to your chin and watching the tree branches scrape against your opened window. The air in the room was no longer stuffy, ridding any evidence of what you and Jeongguk did.

Summers in Italy were magical. 

Though, the fact stands: magic was nothing but illusions, deluding you from the truth. And you feigned indifference when Jihyo tells you Jeongguk had gone home for an important project — you ignored the hurt and betrayal. You had never been enough for your father to come home, so it was easy to turn a blind eye at the heaviness in your stomach from the thoughts of hoping you’d be enough to make Jeongguk stay.

Another couple of days in Italy go by with those illusions till the truth sets in the day you return to work.

A couple coworkers stop you on the way to your cubicle, asking you for a trip recap. Your debrief takes longer as intended — half due to wanting to avoid work and the other half as a result of your efforts to leave out key details of a certain someone. 

You could’ve taken another path to your desk — one that kept you from the usual ajar door. Perhaps the magic followed you back home and you’ve alluded to think Jeongguk’s stares trail after your figure when you walked past his office.

The magical illusions continue as you settle into your cube, a bright yellow sticky note on your keyboard with a familiar handwriting reads: Lunch at Romano’s. - J

Even if the center of the candy happened to be sour, you have to see through it — you want to see through it.

fin.

a/n: missed me? cuz i’ve been missenU. ahh, ahh?? 🥹 i’ll see yall in about 1-2 months with something new! in the meantime, go send your well wishes to the bday girlie!! toodles ♡

also s/o to my bestie @takeitawaykenny for beta’ing!! love ya pookie

**no part two or sequel to this!🚫💋**

[luna-azzurra]

Tips for Writing Journalists / Reporters!!

─୨ৎ─ Curiosity is cute, but it’s not enough for a whole character. Why do they need the truth so badly? Maybe they believe information protects people. Maybe they grew up around lies. Maybe they want power after years of feeling ignored. Maybe they’re trying to prove they’re not just “the kid from that small town.” Maybe they ruined someone once by getting a story wrong and now truth feels like a debt. A reporter who digs because “plot” is fine. A reporter who digs because stopping would mean betraying their whole self is better.

─୨ৎ─ The story they publish is never just information. It has ALWAYS consequences. A journalist can expose corruption, save people, ruin careers, destroy families, trigger lawsuits, get someone fired, make someone unsafe, or force a town to admit what it buried. That’s the scary part. They might be right and still cause damage. They might be ethical and still hurt someone. Don’t make journalism feel like “they found the truth, yay.”

─୨ৎ─ Sources are relationships!! A source might be scared, proud, angry, guilty, using the journalist, trying to protect someone, trying to confess without confessing, or giving only the version that makes them look good. Some sources want justice. Some want revenge. Some want attention. Some want to leak one thing while hiding ten others. A good reporter character knows every source has a reason for talking, and that reason matters as much as the information.

─୨ৎ─ Deadlines change the whole mood. A journalist may not have six peaceful weeks to think. They might have four hours, a dying phone, one editor asking for copy, one source ghosting them, and a legal team saying “please do not get us sued today.” Deadline pressure makes people sharper, meaner, faster, sloppier, funnier. Your reporter can care deeply about truth and still make a bad call.

─୨ৎ─ A good editor asks the hard questions: “How do you know?” “Who confirmed this?” “Are we being fair?” “What’s missing?” “Why now?” A bad editor chases clicks, protects powerful friends, or buries stories that matter. An editor can be mentor, antagonist, parent substitute, moral compass, coward, genius, or exhausted adult trying to stop the newsroom from legally exploding. The journalist may write the story, but the editor often decides what survives.

─୨ৎ─ Journalists need proof, not just belief. They can believe the victim. They can know the politician is lying. They can feel the company is hiding something. But publishing requires evidence: documents, records, recordings, witnesses, photos, timelines, data, confirmation.

─୨ৎ─ Local journalism is different from national journalism. A small-town reporter may write about school boards, missing funds, local deaths, restaurant openings, court cases, storms, sports, council meetings, and the mayor’s extremely suspicious nephew. They might know everyone they report on. They might run into a source at the grocery store after publishing something ugly. In local journalism, the story doesn’t disappear after publication. It sits three tables away at breakfast.

─୨ৎ─ Anonymous sources should cost something. Using anonymous sources can protect people, but it also asks the reader to trust the journalist. Why does the source need anonymity? Could they lose their job? Get hurt? Face legal trouble? Are they credible? Do they have evidence? Anonymous sources should create pressure: the journalist knows who said it, but the public doesn’t, and if it’s wrong, the journalist’s name is on the damage.

─୨ৎ─ A journalist’s phone is basically a crime scene. Unread messages from sources. Voice memos. Screenshots. Notes app chaos. A half-written draft. A contact saved under a fake name. Three missed calls from their editor. A recording they keep replaying because something sounds off. Photos of documents taken badly under fluorescent lights. Their phone is their office, evidence locker, anxiety machine, and emotional support rectangle.

─୨ৎ─ Conflict of interest is a big deal. Can they report on a company their sibling works for? A politician they used to date? A school they attended? A criminal case involving their friend? Maybe they disclose it. Maybe their editor removes them from the story. Maybe they hide it because the story matters too much to them. This is perfect plot fuel because the journalist’s desire to be involved can directly clash with professional ethics.

─୨ৎ─ Journalists notice what people avoid saying. A politician says “mistakes were made” instead of “I made mistakes.” A company says “we take this seriously” instead of answering the question. A parent says “she was troubled” instead of “we didn’t believe her.” The language people choose under pressure tells the reporter where to push.

─୨ৎ─ They should have a beat. A beat is the area they cover: politics, crime, culture, sports, health, entertainment, courts, education, business, climate, war, tech, local government. A crime reporter has different sources than a music journalist. A health reporter asks different questions than a gossip columnist. A political reporter knows different lies than a fashion journalist. Pick the beat. It decides their contacts, habits, knowledge, and blind spots.

[improperdesires-deactivated2017]

give me a: they used to date and broke up for x or y reason and got stuck in this vacation together because of their mutual friends and she has a new boyfriend, so now he’s stuck watching her with this new guy and seething with jealousy, so he takes the opportunity to remind her of every single good time they had during their time together and tease her endlessly. things like: ‘do you call him daddy too?’ and ‘remember the time when we…’ etc. and they end up having sex again and now they can’t stop sneaking behind her new boyfriend’s back. 

[diviniyae]

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credit not needed. recoloring welcomed. feel free to edit as you need! original colors here!