- All members will appear in this fanfiction! Do not worry.
- Minors do not interact. This fanfiction will have graphic depictions of violence and other adult situations. This is also a mixed fiction of Apocalypse and Hybrid AUs. The reader in this fanfiction is a Female and therefore has female pronouns.
Tagged: neohyxn
- I have not invested myself in fanfiction writing in quite a while so I’m very nervous about this...but I hope you enjoy.
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🕸️ It took everything in her body to not trip over the cracks in the pavement outside of her apartment building; her throat burning from both the cold and the amount of breathing she was doing as she raced towards the door.
Hands shaking as she struggled with the rusty lock, her ears pricked upward at the noise of a blood-chilling shriek, and she knew that they had spotted her again.
She was getting sloppy on her supply runs and even though she knew this, she wasn’t exactly known for having the best balance even standing still, let alone grabbing supplies from the blood-stained shops.
Letting out a small cry of relief, the door finally came unstuck, and she slammed the door shut; turning around just in time to see a small group of people slam their bodies into the thick glass door.
Their eyes bloodshot, their mouths always open and drooling, all of them agile despite whatever their human health state was like.
“Fucking arseholes,” she whispered as she tried to ignore the groaning and the screaming that was just behind a single glass door.
Dashing up the stairs, she kept her apartment key ready in her hand, anything to just be a little safer that much quicker.
“I am alive,” she called out, her breath halting for a few seconds as silence followed her announcement.
“You sound terrified,”
The deep voice made her flinch and she turned to see her best friend sitting up on his elbows, his eyes narrowing on her face and taking in her shaken form.
“Why didn’t you wake me?” he jumped over the back of the sofa and quickly gathered her up in his arms, “safety in numbers,” he added pulling back so he could look her in the eyes.
“Felix, you were sleeping, and I didn’t want to wake you up,” she replied feeling a little bashful under his gaze, “it’s been so long since you had a good night's sleep and I’m not going to wake you up for every supply run just because you think you’re okay when you clearly aren’t,”
She pouted when Felix chuckled and pet the top of her head with affection, enjoying the softness of her Dalmatian ears.
“You’re right,” he agreed surprising her quite a bit and she tilted her head to the side; the two of them making their way to the seating area, “lay with me?”
Felix helped her move the heavy backpack she was carrying and held his arms out to her, knowing fully well that she would never be able to refuse such an action.
“Evil,” she mumbled before quickly joining him on the sofa, head buried in his chest as a blanket was thrown over them.
“Maybe so but you love me,” he giggled at the scoff that was replied and he squeezed the hybrid just a little bit more out of sheer love for her, “I’m glad you’re safe,” he added quietly as he heard a loud scream coming from a floor above them.
Must be Miss Lorn’s boyfriend...finally turned Felix thought with a shudder as the screaming continued a little more before it slowly became quiet with a loud gurgling.
“Me too,” she whispered gripping the fabric of his shirt for comfort, “maybe...maybe we should barricade the door today,” she added upon hearing the rather disturbing scrambling of hands scratching at the floorboards from above.
“I’m on it,”
‧˚₊꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹
Even though the world had gone to shit, the internet seemed to still be working.
Only on select days of the month it seemed but working none-the-less.
Felix had been trying to get in contact with his best friends ever since things really started to go downhill; she could see his heart breaking every time the phone calls cut short or when they simply weren’t even working.
She had only met one of Felix’s friends and that was a man called Han Jisung.
An introverted man who was shy and anxious a lot of the time but bloomed the second he was comfortable with you.
She always had had a soft spot for Han and had enjoyed his company very much whenever he’d visited Felix, the two men extremely close thanks to their birthdays being one day apart.
She had assumed that Han would’ve been the first one he would try to get in touch with but apparently there was another man from Australia that he was the closest too.
“Still nothing?” she asked quietly as she eyed Felix, who was leant over his laptop with a very exhausted expression on his lovely face, “Lix?” she pushed gently when silence followed her question, and he looked up slowly with a sad shake of his head.
“I don’t even know if they’re safe,” he whispered trying his very best not to cry, “Channie-hyung is tough but his kindness is the thing that will get him in trouble...people will take advantage,” he closed his laptop and rubbed his face harshly; leaving red marks on himself.
“Minho-hyung is tough and no nonsense, but playful and kind...I guess he’ll be the one who would be around the longest,” Felix picked at his nails, and she knew that he was just talking to vent out his anxiety; so, she stayed quiet and nodded, “Changbin-hyung and Hyunjin-hyung live together, so I think they’ll be alright but Changbin is loud and a hot-head sometimes,” he pulled at his thick brown locks, “Hannie....” he seemed to be particularly stressed when talking about the slightly older man.
“Hannie is smart, and I think his anxiety benefits him...he’s not that great with social situations unless we’re with him so I think...I think he’ll be hiding in his home or with Channie-hyung...they’re super close,” he took a deep breath and turned to look at her for the first time since his ramble.
“Seungie and Jeongin are the youngest of our friendship group but I believe that they are together, I hope they’re together,” he whispered, “I believe they’ll be okay but they get overwhelmed easily and I just don’t know what to do!” he finally broke down in tears and she rushed towards him; pulling him into her chest and stroking his hair as he sobbed into shirt, gripping the back of it so hard she thought it would rip.
“I will help you find them,” she squeezed him tightly and kissed his forehead when he eventually looked up, “I will find them,” she knew it was giving him false hope, but she couldn’t stand to see the utter distress upon his face.
“I don’t want them to be hurt,” he whimpered as his face turned a bright shade of red due to his crying, “I love them,” he bit his bottom lip nervously before smiling ever so slightly when she bumped her head against his affectionately.
“I know you do,” she replied looking at the front door at the sudden sound of screeching, which caused them both to bolt towards said door just in case they had to hold it shut once again.
“How are they still in the building?” Felix shook his head, voice still wrecked because of his crying.
“I don’t know, I thought I had gotten rid of them all on this floor,” she eyed the peephole and felt her stomach drop at the sight of them running down the halls; clearly on the scent of something and she hoped it wasn’t one of the poor pets in the other apartments.
“Might be newbies,” Felix sighed heavily, “I still think it’s to do with the water around here,” he added making her shrug.
“Could be, I haven’t been using any water for drinking that didn’t come out of a bottle,” she confessed, “bad for the planet but so is this virus,” she continued making Felix laugh.
“Same here,” he confessed as they moved away from the door and back towards his bedroom; shutting the door behind them.
A rule the two of them had come up with in case their front door was knocked down during the night, they would still have a barrier between them and the zombies.
Sleeping together was also another safety rule they’d made as they’d be able to 1. hold the door better with two and 2. have more chances to fight the zombies off if, God forbid, they got in.
Plus, they were just scared to be by themselves.
“Have you tried to call them?” she moved to his side on the bed and cuddled up with her arms locked around one of his, chin on his shoulder.
“I think using phones is going to be pointless,” he puffed a big sigh out, “fucking thing hasn’t been able to connect a call in about,” he paused, “three-four weeks,”
This news came as a surprise to her as Felix hadn’t even mentioned this to her.
“Three-four weeks?!” she gasped, and he nodded, “oh Felix,” she almost cooed at his saddened expression, her fingers gently brushing his hair from his face so she could look at his dark brown eyes.
He, in turn, looked back at her feeling quite hopeless, his head pushing forward so their foreheads were together.
“I have you,” he whispered closing his eyes, “so it’s not all bad,” he felt his face flush red at the sudden confession, and he moved away from her, eyes darting to the grey carpet of his room.
There was a short silence that followed his statement.
She would be lying if she hadn’t picked up on a weird atmosphere surrounding the two of them lately; not that she hated the feeling, but it was just a little strange.
Felix was always a touchy person; often pulling her into cuddles for most of the day or just petting her ears as she curled up beside him, kissing her forehead or cheek whenever he felt particularly soft.
But recently the cuddles had become longer and tighter, the kisses had become more frequent, and his lips lingered.
Even she had become aware that she was also being a lot more affectionate with Felix; even brave enough now to kiss him back on several occasions.
She considered the man a forever packmate, even though she didn’t have a pack in the first place.
Maybe she was confusing simple pack-love with romantic love? She wasn’t too knowledgeable about Hybrid pack lives, having been brought up with a Human family since birth.
Shaking her head furiously, startling Felix in the process, she cleared her throat and threw herself down onto the bed, pulling the covers over her body.
“We should get some rest, we need to go on another supply run soon,” she faked a yawn and made sure to face away from him as she tried to figure her thoughts out but still pushed backwards as Felix joined her, arm thrown around her waist protectively.
Hello! I hope you are well :) I just got hooked reading your "Lost" series of Stray Kids but I can only find chapters from 1 to 4 and then chapter 8. There is no "next chapter" ling after chapter 4. Am I missing something? Is there somewere I could read the rest? Please send me a ling or any info where I could read the rest if you can :) I really love this story :) Thank you!
Hi, sorry, links have sorta been broken for me on my end over here so I have just given up with the 'next chapter' links, however you can read it all over on my Ao3, it's a lot easier to keep track of on there I find because I dunno what's happening with Tumblr right now.
So here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/45752875/chapters/115137502
Thank you for reading!
hiiiii i just read the pup hybrid yunho x bat hybrid reader and i am GAGGED!!!!! Could you maybe write a sequel if you find the time?
Hi! Thank you so much for reading, I'm happy you enjoyed it enough to want a sequel haha
I'm sure I'll bring bat Puppy Yunho and Bat Reader at some point, because I honestly loved writing them. I'm not sure when but maybe they'll be around again.
Summary: Over your four years working for Reed Richards, you'd given yourself one job: you can be his friend, but don't fall for Johnny Storm's charms. Too bad you had already failed that mission before it could even begin.
Warnings: 18+ ONLY MDNI, SMUT (making out, unprotected sex, p in v, nipple play, oral f. receiving, temperature play, creampie, aftercare), porn with a LOT of plot, slight hint of some angst, fluff, friends to lovers, Johnny is a massive flirt, mutual pining, SPOILERS! for The Fantastic Four: First Steps, female reader but no characteristics described, mentions of parental loss, maybe some incorrect stuff regarding the 60s and how it worked but it's a fantasy world, lightly edited so apologies for any mistakes
Word Count: 17,433 words
Requests are open! : ̗̀➛ Find my masterlist here
READ PART 2: The Wonder of Him : ̗̀➛ Johnny Storm x Reader
“We need to adjust the parameters for this. There’s a few more levels that I want to adjust, to ensure that we’ve scanned the baby for all possible anomalies,”
Years ago, when you had miraculously been offered the position as Dr. Reed Richards assistant, it was a dream come true. The smartest man alive, holding 18 Doctorate degrees himself, choosing you out of the thousands of applicants to be his assistant was a ‘pinch me’ moment. Of course, he didn’t want an assistant, it was thrust upon him by his wife, but you liked to think after all this time you’d wormed your way into his heart.
Working with Reed…was something else entirely. It was a learning curve, understanding just how the man’s brain worked. Even to this day, you weren’t sure you understood it. Even when things went perfectly, when test runs on prototypes worked out better than you could’ve ever imagined, Reed was never satisfied. Something could always be better, be improved, as if his brain was factoring in the hundreds of thousands of possibilities that could occur and alter your data. You made it work, though–with patience and understanding–you managed to find the best way to work around Reed’s faults and work with him, to support him.
What was supposed to be just a job in the Baxter Building became so much more. Through it, you gained a family you never thought quite possible.
Reed’s wife, Susan Storm, was another one of the brightest minds that you had ever encountered. Kind, compassionate, but fiercely loyal and unafraid to step up to the plate when a challenge arrived, when the people she loved were threatened. You admired her and everything she stood for, the way she carried herself day in and day out. And since the day you had arrived at the Baxter Building, she welcomed you with open arms, as if you had always been part of the family.
Ben Grimm was the most talented pilot you’d ever had the pleasure of meeting. The perfect counter to Reed and his panicky mind at times, having known the man long enough to understand his quirks in a way you could only hope to. Ben was always kind, always open, always ready to lend a hand or be a shoulder for anyone that needed to listen.
Johnny Storm…was the bane of your existence, in the best way.
“Wrong address, sweetheart. The modeling agency is two blocks down. I could escort you over there, if you’d like?”
Those were the first words the hot-headed younger brother of Sue Storm had said to you, passing by you in the lobby of the building on your first day, a wink thrown in for good measure when he’d spoken.
Having followed Dr. Richards' work long enough, which meant knowing bits about his personal life, you were well aware of the reputation that Johnny Storm carried. The papers and magazines, talk shows and gossip blogs, all called him a playboy simply because he’d never been in a long-term relationship but was still a ladies man. You never saw him like that, though. All you saw was a brilliant guy, a lover of space, even if that passion of his was sometimes overlooked because of his ‘love for women’.
And, oh, how you wished his empty, blatant flirting with you didn’t bring a blush to your cheeks every time, or make your heart skip a beat, but it did. Every single time, it did. You weren’t blind: Johnny Storm was objectively handsome and much too charming for his own good, and you decided right then and there that you would use every ounce of your willpower to ignore his empty flirts. You didn’t need to become another girl hopelessly in love with the heartthrob of the Fantastic Four, even if your heart ached when you saw him with anyone else.
Those four had become important to you in ways that you would never be able to describe, but Sue always described it best: a family.
That’s why when four of the closest people to you in life went up into space for Reed’s exploration mission, and came back cosmically changed forever, you never left their sides. They were your family, and family stuck together, no matter what.
“Reed,” your comment was cautious, hands stilling at your work station in the lab of the Baxter Building. Glancing over your shoulder, Reed was hunched over the machine he’d built in just a day, specifically to monitor the health of the baby growing inside of Sue’s stomach, as Herbie rocked back and forth beside him. “You’ve scanned Sue a thousand times at this point-”
“That’s an exaggeration. I’ve scanned her 123 times-”
“That’s not the point,” he glanced over at you then, looking away the second he saw the pointed look you were throwing at him. With a sigh, you abandoned your work, leaning back against the table behind you to watch him fret over the device. “We have run every test possible, scanned for every data point that links back to the fluctuations in your DNA from the cosmic rays we noted years ago, and we’ve gotten nothing. Your baby is okay.”
“There are still more tests to run,”
Another sigh escaped past your lips, and you allowed yourself to hang your head with a shake.
Since the moment Sue had announced her pregnancy, he’d been like this: even more on edge than usual. Baby-proofing the kitchen, smoke detectors in every single room and hallway, baby gates around every corner, it was getting insufferable. A sweet gesture, overall, and a testament to how much he loved and adored Sue, but exhausting to everyone else that had to be in his presence.
“Fine, but I’m not breaking the news to Sue that you want to scan her…again,”
“I already told her to meet me down here before dinner for another scan. We can adjust the parameters tomorrow. I want another data set from today’s scan at the current parameters to compare the changes with,” Reed never looked in your direction, still fiddling with the machine in front of him. “You’re staying for dinner, yes?”
“I’m making it,” was the response you shot back to him, powering down your workstation in the lab and rising from your chair, crossing the room to stand in front of him. “Apparently Sue has been craving spaghetti, and requested my family recipe.”
“You can’t argue with a pregnant woman,” Reed muttered, just loud enough for you to hear, but he still never looked up. “I’ll see you up there for dinner, then. There’s a few more tests that I want to run.”
“You also have a meeting at 5:45 and one at 6:15,” you shot back to him as you turned to leave the lab, checking the desk calendar lying beside your work station. There was a hum from the man, the smallest acknowledgement you were going to get, so you set your sights on Herbie and waved him forward. “Come on, Herb. An extra hand in the kitchen is always nice.”
As much as you thought of the Fantastic Four as your family, you never stayed for dinner often. You always tried your hardest to uphold the lines between your work life and personal life, not wanting to blur them completely (though, you were sure you had already blurred them enough for it to be too late). There had been plenty of times over the years where you’d stayed for dinner, usually once a month at this rate.
Sue always invited you, and you never wanted to disappoint her, and you gave in often. Ben had a way of wrangling you into saying yes before you were ever given the chance to speak at all. Reed had only asked once, asking you to stay back for the dinner months ago in which they announced to you that Sue was pregnant.
Johnny asked every day. You said no, most of the time, but when you did stay for dinner it was usually because those captivating, bright blue eyes were staring into your soul and pleading with you to stay.
Speak of the devil: there he sat at the dining room table. Clad in a white t-shirt with their logo resting over the pocket and the blue pants of his suit, a weird sight given that you had been in the lab with Reed all day and didn’t think any of them had left to attend to any ‘hero’ work.
You didn’t say a word as you strolled past him into the kitchen with Herbie on your heels, simply plucking the box of Lucky Charms from his hands as you swooped past. It was impossible not to smile to yourself at the scoff of indignation he let out at your actions.
“Hey-!”
“You’re going to spoil your appetite,” you shot back at him, throwing him a smirk over your shoulder before slotting the now closed cereal box into the cupboard where it usually sat.
Herbie beeped out a set of beeps that, over the years, you had come to understand. This time, he was agreeing with you, pointing out some facts about how eating out of the box lacked moderation, and would in turn actually spoil his appetite. You gave the little robot a fist bump for that, something that Johnny shot the little helper a glare for.
“Come on, Herbert, you’re supposed to take my side on these things!” There was no real malice in his words as he got up from the dining room table, rounding into the kitchen as you took the pots and pans that Herbie had gathered for you, setting them out along the counter where you needed them. “Baby, you didn’t tell me you were staying for dinner.”
When you told yourself that you weren’t going to fall into the trap that was the charming and charismatic Johnny Storm, you weren’t prepared for two things.
One: when he got comfortable around someone, he could be an even bigger flirt. Pet names were constant. Baby, sweetheart, honey, doll, love…you name it, Johnny called you it. Constantly. So constantly you were sure the blush on your cheeks was a permanent staple. He’d even once called you his little flame–that had been met with the tip of your heel being dug into his foot.
The second thing you weren’t prepared for: touch. Johnny Storm didn’t understand personal space, not when he was comfortable around you. If you were in the room with him, he was standing less than a foot from you, and you always knew because you could feel the warmth that radiated off his unusually hot skin. His hands would always rest on your arm, your elbow, right at the bottom of your lower back.
Moments like this in the kitchen were normal, and yet they still fried your brain. That simply little pet name, and Johnny’s warm hand ghosting over your lower back, before coming to rest on your hip. Clearing your throat, you gently pried his hand from your body, shooting him a look as you moved around to get the ingredients for dinner, hoping your flushed cheeks didn’t give you away.
“When your pregnant sister has cravings for my personal family recipe spaghetti, I’m required to oblige her,”
“I asked you to make this for me two weeks ago and you refused,”
Johnny followed close behind you, like a little puppy following its owner. You tried, and failed, to contain your smile at his actions. The media might paint him as some sex god (you weren’t going to lie…if he wanted to be, he could be) but you saw him for what he was: the epitome of a little golden retriever at times.
“Well you aren’t a hormonal pregnant woman with super powers,” you shot back at him, taking the opened jar of spaghetti sauce from Herbie’s hand and dumping it into the pot on the stove top, turning up the heat on the boiling pot of water for the noodles Herbie had laid out for you.
“No, but Johnny is a hormonal guy with super powers, who adores your cooking,” bumping his hip with yours, Johnny stole the wooden spoon from your hand with ease, dipping it into the simmering sauce to stir. With that same ease, he leaned down just slightly, leaving a kiss to your bare shoulder that felt as if it had left a brand into your skin. “Johnny also happens to just adore you, and loves when you stay for dinner.”
You had given up on the blush by now. He’d surely seen it enough over the years with his incessant flirting, there was no use in hiding it. Bumping your hip back with him, biting into your bottom lip in a failed attempt to conceal the smile spreading across your lips, you stole the wooden spoon back from him.
“Johnny also talks in the third person too much, and is an insufferable flirt half the time,” he dipped his hand into the sauce, coating his fingers in red as you whacked lightly at his hand, forcing him to withdraw as quickly as he’d dipped in. “What have I told you about doing that!”
He’d laughed, one of your favorite sounds, as you glanced over at him with a bright smile, unable to truly stay mad at him…ever.
That was, until he dipped his sauce-covered ring finger and middle finger into his mouth to lick the sauce clean off, eyes never leaving yours and a smirk curling up on his lips. It forced you to swallow the lump that had formed in your throat and look away as quickly as you could, feeling a different kind of heat swelling in your body: yeah, Johnny knew exactly what he was doing.
“Not sure, baby, that look you’re giving me right now doesn’t scream that I’m insufferable-”
“Oh, that’s exactly what it’s screaming,” you shot back, even with the ghost of a smile pulling at your lips as Herbie readied the garlic bread on the counter behind you. “If you’re not going to help, you can leave this kitchen. I don’t care if you live here.”
Johnny rolled his eyes in response, hopping up onto the counter next to the stove where you worked. You caught the box of noodles he knocked over before they could fall to the ground, shooting him a look as he held his hands up innocently, dumping them into the boiling water pot.
“You basically live here, too,”
“I don’t-”
“Yeah, because you keep refusing the room that Sue prepared for you,”
He…wasn’t wrong. Two years ago, Sue had transformed what was previously the guest room into a room that looked like it had been built just for you. Your favorite color on the walls, a matching quilt set on the bed, and she’d offered it to you. A place to stay, to live, given that Reed sometimes had you in the Baxter Building until the oddest hours of the morning.
You declined, still desperate to keep that line between your work life and your personal life separate, as tempting of an offer as it was. Sue wasn’t slighted by your decision at all, instead offering it to you to use whenever you needed to. There had been times in which you had taken up that offer, a few changes of clothes tucked away in the room on the odd chance that you’d need them.
“This place is your home, not mine,” you didn’t look at Johnny as you spoke, simply shaking your head as you stirred both the sauce and the noodles in their respective pots. “I’m Reed’s assistant, I’m not family-”
“Stop it,”
Even with the heat that rolled off Johnny Storm, every time his bare skin touched your own it sent a shiver straight down the length of your spine. His hand curled around your jawline, thumb and index finger pinching at your chin to force you to look up at him, to gaze into those intense blue eyes and the look on his face that had morphed so quickly from playful to serious.
“Johnny-”
“You are family, whether you like it or not,” the statement didn’t surprise you, it wasn’t the first time in your four years of knowing him that Johnny had said something like this to you, or anyone on the team for that matter. It always made you feel warm inside, though, to hear him say it, to see that loyalty and love for the people he cared about shine through in his words, such a stark contrast to the way the media sometimes portrayed him. “There’s not a thing I wouldn’t do for you.”
That was new. He hadn’t made a declaration like that to you before.
It was something about the look in his eyes as he said it–so genuine, so soft–that had you melting into his touch. His hand curled back up to your cheek, thumb just barely caressing the apple of your cheek, leaving a trail of heat with every swipe of his finger against your skin. Your heart betrayed you, fluttering in that moment like it always did.
These moments used to be few and far between. You didn’t know how else to describe them besides just calling them moments. Over the first few years of knowing Johnny Storm, there were small moments where that empty flirts verged on the edge of something different, something raw and real. But in the last year, they happened more often than they didn’t. Johnny wasn’t pictured out with as many women anymore, wasn’t brazenly caught flirting with anyone with legs and a pulse at events. And in moments like this, even in front of his family, he’d touch you, caress you, speak to you in a way that felt so genuine, that felt like it was real. Like the flirting was no longer just empty, meaningless fun.
That line between your work and personal life might have been a muddled mess, but the line between being Johnny Storm’s friend and something entirely more was practically non-existent now.
“You say that to all your women?” you quipped back, trying to hold your own, even as you were melting inside and your voice came out as a whisper. The playful look on Johnny’s face returned in a second, his fingers instead pinching the cheek he’d just been so softly caressing.
“Never, honey. Those words are reserved for my brother-in-law’s pretty little assistant,”
In typical Johnny fashion, he was able to dissolve and ruin whatever the moment was in an instant with his usual ‘charm’. Swatting his hand away, you returned your attention to the food on the stove in front of you, smiling to yourself as Herbie beeped out a popular song you’d heard on the radio behind you.
“You always have a line, don’t you?”
“Hey, you know what you signed up for, being friends with all this,” he jokingly motioned to his body, and you caught sight of the smile lighting up his face again as you laughed incredulously at his actions. “As part of the package deal, being friends with me, you are legally required to attend movie night in the living room with me after dinner.”
You hummed in response, even if you were smiling the entire time just from listening to him talk.
“This sounds like an impromptu movie night-”
“All of our movie nights are impromptu, babe-”
“I saw earlier that channel 2 is playing The Sound of Music tonight,” you shot back at him, finally looking up at him with an expectant look on your face. “That’s what I want to watch.”
Johnny groaned, throwing his head back and knocking it against the cupboards with a wince on his face. You couldn’t help but chuckle at his overdramatic antics, as usual.
“But channel 3 is showing Psycho!”
“And you dipped your hand–which, god knows where that thing might have been–into my sauce for dinner,”
Johnny opened his mouth to speak, before mulling over your words, and effectively shutting it with a nod.
“You know what, if it gets you to have a movie night with me, then I’ll take it,”
God, you adored this man, more than you should. More than you wanted to. In his presence, especially now, you were pretty sure the smile on your face was a constant, that it would never leave, as you laughed at him once more.
Finishing off the special blend of additions to your sauce, giving it another swirl with the wooden spoon, you brought it up to your lips for a quick taste. Satisfied, you held one hand under the spoon to keep it from dripping, holding it up toward Johnny.
“Alright, give it a taste,”
His eyes stayed locked on yours, that familiar intensity and warmth in them keeping you locked in place, holding your breath, as he took a quick slurp from the spoon. Smacking his lips together, running his tongue out along his lips, he gave a definitive nod.
“As always…perfection. Though, I expect nothing less from you,”
Before you could retort to his cheesy comment, his hand reached out, eyes still locked on yours, as he cupped your chin once more and ran his finger over your lips. With the slightest of glances down, you saw the small spot of red on his finger, the remnants of the sauce he’d so gently just wiped from your lips.
Glancing back up to those blue eyes you loved more than you cared to admit, you caught the way they finally glanced down at your lips, before looking away as if to not get caught.
“...am I interrupting something?”
As if Johnny had burst into flames and burned you, you jumped away from him immediately the second you heard the voice of Sue Storm across the room. You never even looked back up at Johnny, or turned around to look at the woman by the dining room table, just stared down into the sauce pot as you continued to stir it and the noodles.
“Actually, sis, you very much are interrupting something here,” Johnny called out across the room, and you could see him gesturing with his hands between you both from the corners of your vision.
“Johnny,” you rolled your eyes, glancing over at him with flushed red cheeks from what had just transpired. “Sue isn’t interrupting anything.”
“She kind of is. We were kind of having a moment here-”
“Johnny, we were not having a moment,”
You very much were having a moment, but you weren’t admitting that to him. His ego burned hot enough, no need to stroke the fire.
Sue laughed, rounding into the kitchen as she stopped by Herbie, thanking him and taking the garlic bread tray from him to pop into the oven he had preheated.
“Johnny, why don’t you go get cleaned up for dinner and stop bothering the poor girl. Bad enough I’m making her cook for me, she doesn’t need you hovering,”
The man let out a sigh, muttering something mocking toward his sister, as he threw himself off the counter with dramatic flair. He wasn’t done making your heart race, though, his hand curling around the back of your head as he planted a kiss directly to your hairline, before he disappeared from the kitchen with a pat to Herbie’s head.
The pots on the stove were forgotten as you turned around, simply watching him disappear with an incredulous look on your face. Quickly, your eyes shot to Sue, who was watching you with a smirk as she leaned against the island counter.
“There was nothing happening there,”
“I didn’t say there was,”
“But you’re giving me that look,”
“I’m not giving you any kind of look,” the blonde laughed, stepping up beside you to take the wooden spoon from your hand, tasting the sauce herself with a happy little sigh. “Just…enjoying watching the show from the sidelines, waiting for one of you to make a move.”
“Sue, there’s no move to make. He’s just…he’s Johnny,”
“And Johnny is my brother,” she shot back with a grin. “And Johnny has never been like that with someone, just with you.”
You didn’t get to respond, before Herbie cut in with another series of beeps. Your eyes shot wide as you listened to what he was saying, cheeks flaring an even brighter shade of red as Sue choked on air, laughing to herself at your side.
“HERBIE! THAT’S SO INAPPROPRIATE!”
❤︎
It had been two weeks, and Reed had somehow managed to scan Sue a total of 142 times, now. Sometimes, you wondered how she was able to put up with his hovering, the hovering that had gotten exponentially worse since she announced she was pregnant.
“I’m not getting clear imaging,” Reed called out from the other side of the lab, the only sound in the room being the incessant beeping of the machine he’d built to monitor the baby, and the solder iron in your hand as it worked away on the small device in front of you. You shook your head at his comments once more, adjusting the eye protectors resting on the bridge of your nose as little sparks jumped up as the last piece of the triangular device was finally attached. “I’m going to have Herbie recalibrate this, I don’t like the data output I’m getting, I want a clear image on the next scan. Is the second bridge device ready?”
“Just finished fixing the soldering on the stand, so it should be good to go,” you shot back, tossing your eye protectors down at your workstation, lifting the device carefully and carrying it over to Reed’s station, setting it down with the matching device. “And, once again, you really don’t need to scan the baby again.”
You were met with silence, unsurprisingly. Until, the workstation down the room set off its alarm bell, a familiar tone that had you stand up straighter where you stood.
“New deep space transmission,” there was a hint of elation in Reed’s tone as he said it, quickening his pace across the room with Herbie hot on his trail. “Let’s identify the origin, then record it for further analysis.”
Quickly walking back over to your workstation, your eyes drifted to that desk calendar sitting next to you, and to today’s date: a poorly drawn flame, and the time “2:15” scribbled in a barely legible handwriting that you recognized instantly. Even if you hadn’t, the terribly drawn heart with your initials in it scribbled in the corner would’ve given it away.
“Your analysis is going to have to wait, Reed,” you called out with a sigh, knowing you weren’t the one who put this meeting on the calendar, but you sure knew who had. “You have a 2:15 incoming.”
“2:15? What 2:15?” Reed never even looked in your direction, focused on the new transmission. “You didn’t tell me there was anything on my calendar.”
“Well, I didn’t put this one on the calendar myself, but you must have cleared it at some point…”
Just then, the elevator doors to the lab popped open with a familiar ding sound.
“Ah–Reed!”
Good god, Johnny Storm was trying to kill you. You weren’t even sure if that was an exaggeration at this point, because you wouldn’t put it past him.
Blue looked good on him, it always had, but the navy blue button up he was wearing was doing nothing for your mind that was screaming at you to “keep it professional.” It didn’t help that the first few buttons were already undone, giving a slight peak to his chest. The white chinos–those were the nail in your metaphorical coffin. They had no right to be that tight, and he had no right to look so damn good in them.
“Ah…that 2:15,” you tried your best to conceal your laugh at Reed’s comment across the lab. “Johnny, do we have to today?”
“Johnny, do we have to today? As if I didn’t ask to put it on the schedule,” the blonde man in question mumbled mockingly to himself as he slid up to your side at your workstation as you laughed at his antics. One of his hands grabbed the back of your neck, tugging you closer before you could even think about it, pressing another kiss to your hairline. Suddenly, you felt like you were back in the kitchen weeks ago. “Darling, have I ever told you how breathtaking you look in your lab coat?”
“It’s a white coat, Johnny, it’s nothing special,” you deflected, taking just a short glance up at him before you had to look away, already knowing you were as red as the table beneath your hands.
“But the girl wearing it is-”
“Johnny, do you want to have this meeting or do you want to flirt with my assistant?”
You hung your head with a groan, even as Johnny laughed at the comment from his brother-in-law. His arm slung around your waist, hand settling on your hip as the heat that rolled off his body enveloped you for a moment, letting yourself lean into the side hug he gave you and the squeeze to your hip, before he was gone.
“There’s enough time in the day to do both! No, I had some thoughts about the new suit designs,”
“There are no new space suit designs-”
You glanced over at the pair as they met face-to-face in the middle of the lab, Johnny holding up the sheet he was concealing behind his back.
“You finished them years ago…they have dust on them,” Johnny deadpanned, letting out a sigh as Reed took the design sheet from him. “Look, I get it. You’re going to be a father soon, you’re scared-”
“I’m not-I’m not scared,” Reed cut in immediately, and you could hear the anxious undertone that overtook him immediately at Johnny’s words. Without even having to be summoned, knowing how his brain worked after all this time, you simply shrugged off your lab coat and stalked over to the pair, taking the design sheet from Reed’s hands without a word and placing it on his chalkboard full of equations. “I’m-I’m busy, Johnny. I’m busy. I’m busy, there’s a difference.”
“He means busy on his pace to scan Sue at least 200 times before she gives birth,” you shot back, sending Reed a bright smile that he frowned at, clearly seeing that you were siding with Johnny here. “Not terrified of becoming a father at all, those two things definitely don’t correlate.”
Johnny laughed, smile bright, and it only brightened the one on your face, a tug somewhere deep in your chest pulling on you when he locked eyes with you. Reed snapped your attention back to him in an instant, running a hand down his face as he gestured in Herbie’s direction.
“Just handle the new deep space transmission, please, instead of ganging up on me with Johnny,”
You laughed, heels clicking against the floors of the lab as you joined Herbie’s side as he waited for the transmission to be scratched into the record. There was a woosh of air, the air beside you heating up instantly as a hand found its way to rest on your lower back.
“Have you listened to it yet?”
The smile on your face softened as you glanced over at Johnny, who was staring down at the record in front of you both with pure excitement in his eyes. Beyond the physical moments, his flirtatious moments, these were the moments that had your plan to not fall for Johnny Storm splitting at the seams, if it hadn’t already.
“Seems to be a lot more of the same, just another complex signal,” Johnny left your side, the heat going with him, as he leaned against the blue table behind him. Herbie took the record from its place, rolling over to Johnny to hand it directly to him. “You’re more than welcome to take it with you, give it a listen.”
He twirled the record in his hands with a grin, absentmindedly reaching out to scratch the top of Herbie’s head. That simple little action elicited a giggle, hand coming up to cover your mouth as Johnny glanced up at you with a smirk.
“What’s so funny?”
“Herbie isn’t a dog, and yet you treat him like one,” you explained, stepping up just in front of him and grabbing his hand lightly, stopping the twirling of the record in his hands. “Also, you do know you aren’t supposed to get your fingerprints all over these, right?”
It was Johnny’s turn to laugh as he spun his hand, catching it in his palm and bringing it up to his lips, leaving a scorching hot, but gentle, kiss to your knuckles, sending a shiver straight through your bones. He didn’t even have a retort to your comment, just simply held your hand in his, thumb stroking along your skin, while your entire body flushed with a feeling you wanted to ignore.
“Johnny, what have I told you about flirting in my lab? I need my assistant, we’re trying to run a test,”
The moment was gone in seconds, your hand dropped from Johnny’s as he raced to the other side of the lab, following closely behind Reed and tossing the record onto the closest table.
You could only shake your head with a laugh, walking beside Herbie to join them, knowing Reed would be mumbling to himself the rest of the week about this moment and how much Johnny liked pissing him off.
“Cool! I got time,”
Reed didn’t roll his eyes as you and Herbie joined them back at your workstations, but you could see how much he wanted to. Holding the device you’d just finished off in his hand, you watched in the same awe you had for four years as his arm stretched across the length of the lab, placing it right back beside your own workstation.
“Bridge teleportation test one,” grabbing the notebook lying beside the device that contained your notes on the project, you flipped to a new page, prepared to note down any disparities that occurred during the test, as Reed placed an egg on the newly soldered stand. “Movement of organic matter six meters.”
Johnny grabbed the protective glasses beside the work desk, about to slip them on, before Reed took them with no hesitation and slipped them on himself. The blonde turned to you with an incredulous look that simply drew a laugh from you.
“Those are his pair, you can’t touch his pair,” you teased the man, who simply shot you a wink in return, as you both took the pairs that Herbie was holding out to you both. Johnny gave the little robot a quick fist bump.
Such a simple action that still had you grinning in childlike adoration at the side of his face.
Reed gave you a simple look, confirming you were ready. You gave him a nod, as he took hold of the switch to activate the device.
“Let’s run it,”
The whirring of the machine sounded, three silver beams of energy emitting from the device and encasing the egg within a sphere of energy. There was a shift in the room as that energy grew, as the hum of the machine filled the air, before there was a simple POP–and the egg was gone.
One glance from each of you over your shoulders was enough to confirm that the egg was, in fact, sitting on the opposite platform. Completely untouched and intact.
“It worked!” Johnny exclaimed, gesturing toward the egg.
That’s when the power to the building cut out.
It wasn’t surprising, given the notes you both had taken. The amount of energy that needed to be funneled through the device in order to channel enough energy to actually move organic matter without hurting it was sure to be beyond the energy limits of the Baxter Building. A full power outage…not what you were expecting. Not that you could write that note down in the pitch black of the room.
“Johnny,” Reed’s voice called out in the dark, steady with no hint of any emotion you could decipher in it. The man in question came to life beside you, body engulfed in flames, the flame resistant fabric of his specially tailored clothing working overtime to keep him from being stark naked. He stood with his hands on his hips, and even from the side you could see the smirk curling up on his lips. “Could you reset the breaker?”
You’d known Johnny long enough now, been his friend for enough years, to know him. Know him better than a colleague should. The instant dip in his smirk to a frown was clear, the tension in his broad shoulders, as he tossed his glasses down onto the table. He didn’t spare either of you another look, crossing the room to grab the record.
“Other way-”
“I know,” Johnny snapped, beside his flame engulfed body was on the other side of the lab, flipping the breaker as the electricity of the building roared to life again. The second it did, he was in the elevator, doors shutting without another word.
Neither you nor Reed spoke for a moment, simply looking down at the bridge teleportation device on the table in front of him.
“I’ve upset him,”
Reed didn’t phrase it like a question, he said it like a statement. Both were true, though. Reed always knew when he had upset Johnny, but never how he had really upset him.
You took a deep breath, nodding, as you scribbled a note in your notebook before turning on your heels, stalking back to your own workstation.
“Well, he went out of his way to put time on your calendar just to talk to you about the suits, and you did dismiss him…” you trailed off as you reached your station, eyes flickering back down to that desk calendar beside you. You couldn’t help it, letting your fingers lightly trail over that little heart with your initials, smiling to yourself, wishing it meant more than what it did mean: nothing. “Johnny loves space, he only got to go up once before…this all happened. You can’t blame him for wanting to go back.”
It was quiet for another moment in the lab, before Reed spoke up again.
“You know him well…better than I think I do,”
The flush in your cheeks was inevitable at that, embarrassment flooding you as it was easy for you to read between the lines of what Reed was trying to insinuate.
“I-I just listen to him. I always listen,”
It was quiet again.
“Go check on him,” was all Reed said. “If there’s anyone he’d want to talk to right now, it’s you.”
You wanted to argue, to save the crumbling bits of that wall between work and personal, but even you knew it was too late for that.
Johnny’s bedroom door was just two down from the guest room Sue had offered you years ago, a bathroom being the only thing that separated them. Ben’s room was at the other end of the hallway, along with the nursery where the soon to be baby Richards would sleep.
You may not have stayed in that guest room often, but you’d been in these hallways enough to know it like the back of your hand. To know it like it was your own home.
There were countless nights, before you’d make the short walk back to your apartment, where Johnny had coerced you into movie nights in his room. He’d never try anything, never push you into something, always leaving the door open to make sure you knew he wasn’t bringing you upstairs for some alternative reason. His room was just quieter, and felt more private. It gave you the chance to see the side of Johnny that the world didn’t get to see.
The space lover, who spent his life dreaming of being an astronaut, of going into space and seeing the stars. He was a thrill-seeker, always wanting to live his life on the edge, to find joy in those rushes of adrenaline. But beyond it all, just a good man. A man who had an entire collection of records lining one wall of his room, organized from his favorite records to his least favorite, even though he claimed there wasn’t really a least favorite. The world got to know the Human Torch, but in the confines of those four walls, you got to know Johnny Storm. The second you did, you knew your heart was fucked.
You found him in a spot you’d found him in before: leaning against the floor to ceiling windows of his room, staring out at the spaceship he hadn’t stepped foot in for four years. Your heart broke slightly from where you stood in the doorway, able to see the longing that was woven into his frown, that shone through his eyes that never strayed far from the Excelsior.
“You know,” with a few steps into the room, standing beside the record player, you lifted the needle to stop the replay of the foreign language from the deep space transmission that played on a loop. Johnny looked over, a soft smile overtaking his frown at the sight of you, as you kept your own voice soft and light. “I don’t think deep space transmissions are the right background music if you’re going to stare longingly out your window.”
Johnny laughed in a huff, turning on his heel to flick through his record collection.
“And suggestions then for a melancholic moment such as this?”
“Elvis typically has some hits that can set that mood,”
You watched him, the slight shake in his body that hinted he was laughing again, before he plucked a record from the shelves and rose back to his feed. Standing beside the record player with you, he slid it into your hands without another word and plopped into the chair just across from the player.
With care, like you’d done it a hundred times before (you had, right here in this room), you slipped the record onto the player, dropping the needle down as it coasted along the grooves etched into the record.
When no-one else can understand me, when everything I do is wrong…you give me hope and consolation. You give me strength to carry on.
The lyrics settled in you heavily, but it made your body feel lighter. It was impossible not to read into them, to not think too hard about the deliberate music choice that Johnny had made. You couldn’t help that, somewhere deep in your heart where you had buried your feelings for the flaming man years ago, you were hoping these lyrics were a personal message to you.
“Reed send you to check on me?” Johnny asked after a moment, leaning back in his chair, arms folded over his chest as he watched you. Composing yourself for a moment, shoving the flurry of butterflies beating against your chest down, you turned to face him and his blue eyes with a shrug.
“Technically, but I would’ve come on my own,” Johnny hummed, the ghost of a smile on his lips, as his gaze found its way back to the spaceship taunting him just beyond the window. “Come on, matchstick, talk to me.”
He huffed out another laugh, stretching his arms above his head as you tried your best to keep your eyes trained on his face and not drift down his torso. Eventually, his arms settled back across his chest, his gaze still stuck out the window.
“I don’t know…it’s stupid. Last time we went up, we came back with superpowers, trust me, I get that. Now, he’s got a kid on the way. But I know–I know–that he knows how much space means to me. So, when he just dismisses me like that-”
“It makes you feel inadequate? Like you’re a child?” Johnny’s gaze found you again as you shrugged with a light smile. “I’ve worked in an enclosed space with him almost every day for four years, Johnny. He used to make me feel that way all the time, until I realized that Reed’s never trying to make me feel like that.”
“I know he’s not doing it on purpose…doesn’t mean I’m not going to shit talk him in the confines of these walls,” he gestured around the room as you laughed, coming to stand beside his chair, looking down on him as he sighed once more. His hands fell, gripping his knees, as he rubbed them back and forth against the fabric of his pants. “I love space. Simple as that.”
You hummed, bending down beside the chair Johnny sat in so that you were essentially squatting before him, having to look up at him. Hesitation caught you for just a second, your brain actively fighting a war with your heart as you raised your hands, but you ultimately took his hands in yours.
All it took was a second for your eyes to drift over to the table beside him. One lamp, a stack of books, and the flash of a polaroid photo leaning against those books: a photo of you. Taken at some point in the lab, laughter written across your face, your hand almost blocking a portion of the lens as you tried to stop him from taking the photo. You didn’t even remember it being taken in the first place.
Good god, he was really going to be the death of you.
Eyes quickly back on him, with a little squeeze to his hands, you gave Johnny the most comforting smile you could, even as your heart did somersaults in your chest.
“I know you do. You’ll go back to space, Johnny, I promise,”
His eyes watched your hands, and you could see it on his face: that hint of adoration, that hint of something genuine that suggested it wasn’t all just a game, that you weren’t imaging moments for more than they were.
“What if I don’t?”
“You’re Johnny Storm, I’ve never seen you not get something you wanted before. Especially not something you want this bad,”
His mouth parted just slightly as he hesitated. You watched as his tongue darted out, just barely grazing over the edge of his bottom lip, before you flicked your eyes back to his.
“You’re wrong…I think there’s something I want more. Been trying to get it for awhile, but…she just keeps slipping through my fingers somehow,”
That tug on your heart was back. Your heart was surely beating so fast that it could be heard, hammering against your ribcage, as his thumbs glided back and forth across your skin. You could barely think of a response, too stuck on his words: the closest thing to a confession of any kind you’d heard in four years. Raw, real, genuine.
Johnny stood quickly, barely giving you a chance to potentially think of a response as he tugged you back to your feet. His arm enveloped your waist, your hand falling to his bicep as he still held your other hand in the air beside you both. You weren’t sure now if the flush crawling up your neck into your cheeks was from the moment, or from the heat radiating off of him.
“W-What are you doing?”
“We’re dancing,” he said it as if it was the most casual thing in the world, that usual smirk of his back on his face. Whatever had happened moments before, whatever confession may or may not have been said, was brushed away in an instant, that charming, flirty personality of his back in full force. “Can’t turn on Elvis and not dance, I think that’s a literal crime.”
“I didn’t know you even knew how to dance,”
“Oh, I don’t, Sue’s been telling me for years that I have two left feet,” Johnny shot back, shooting a wink down at you as his hand readjusted its grip along your waist. “Can’t be that hard with the prettiest girl in the building in my arms, right?”
Swaying back and forth, wrapped up in the heat of his body, in the faint smell of the cologne that coated his clothing, you were very certain that Johnny Storm was going to be the death of you.
And when you smile the world is brighter. You touch my hand and I'm a king. Your kiss to me is worth a fortune, your love for me is everything.
Johnny tilted his head back from you by just a hair, and you followed suit. Deep blue eyes, as captivating to you as they were the first time you ever saw them, shone with an emotion you couldn’t quite decipher. If you could, you weren’t sure you would survive knowing.
Faces just an inch away, the closest and most intimate moment you’d ever shared with the man you knew in your heart was never going to be just your friend, your colleague, you were verging on the edge of making a terrible choice. Of opening the floodgates, of unlocking the feelings you’d buried away so long ago and letting them flow.
“This is an interesting little relationship you and I have, you know,”
Johnny always found a way to ruin these moments, and this was just another example. Lips tugged up into a smirk, mischief swarming his eyes as he teased you, that fleeting moment of raw vulnerability was gone.
Hand slipped from his, body pulled back from his and a roll of your eyes, you turned on your heel within seconds.
“So typical of you, Storm,”
“What-? What did I do!”
You huffed out a laugh, a smile creeping onto your lips even as you tried to keep it at bay, as you threw your comment over your shoulder as you walked toward the door.
“You went and killed the moment, Johnny, as per usual,”
“...so you admit it, we WERE having a moment!”
You barked out a laugh, shaking your head as you crossed through the doorframe. You could never stay mad at him, not when your heart yearned for him in a way you wish it didn’t.
“Come on! At least let me make it up to you. Will you stay for dinner?”
With a final glance cast over your shoulder toward him, you shot him a bright smile.
“If you’re lucky, flame boy!”
❤︎
Yeah, you really couldn’t say no to Johnny Storm.
Not when he’d spoken so sweetly to you, held you so tenderly, and all around just invaded every part of your brain and your heart. To be fair, he barely had to try honestly to do that.
It wasn’t shocking to see Ben in the kitchen, it seemed to be one of his happy places. You weren’t complaining: on the nights you did stay for dinner, and Ben was cooking, you knew you were going home with the best leftovers the city of New York had ever seen.
“Decided to stay for dinner again?” Sue called out toward you with a smile, giving Herbie a pat on the head as he worked away at carving a pumpkin. You shot her a smile in return, pouring yourself a quick glass of water before making your way toward Ben.
“Johnny asked…and I decided to be nice and oblige him,” you didn’t miss the teasing hum that Ben let out, lightly whacking him on his rocky shoulder. Not that it did you any good, hurting your hand more than it would ever hurt him. His laughter was ignored as your eyes lit up, catching sight of the familiar black and white cookies he was dumping onto a plate. “Oh my god, did you go grab these from Maisie’s?”
“Yes,” Ben waved your hand away when you went to reach for the cookies, producing another paper bag and sliding it your way. “These ones are yours.”
The smell that wafted from the bag was enough to have you almost moaning in the middle of the kitchen, eagerly digging one of the cookies out. Maisie’s famous snickerdoodle cookies, the perfect blend of cinnamon and sugar that you had adored since you were a little girl. One bite of the cookie had you in absolute heaven.
“Oh my god, I haven’t had these in ages!” Ben and Sue both laughed at your excitement as you took another bite of the warm cookie in your hand. “How did you know these were my favorites?”
Ben’s smirk wasn’t hard to miss at all.
“Oh, I didn’t. Johnny asked me to pick those up for you,”
It was probably time to accept that blushing around this family was the only thing you were capable of.
Sue’s laughter rang loudest as she rounded the island counter, high fiving Ben as she shot you a pointed look.
“You really have my brother wrapped around your finger without even trying, huh? You know, before I went to get scanned–again–in the lab, I stopped by the nursery to check out the crib progress. Heard a little The Wonder of You from down the hall, thought I’d peek in…”
The groan you emitted could probably be heard from the other side of the country, leaning down to barely bang your head against the countertop. Ben and Sue’s laughter rang through the air again as you looked up, desperately waving your hands.
“I swear, it wasn’t what it looked like-”
“What wasn’t what it looked like?”
Of course, Johnny chose to make his grand entrance at that moment. Thankfully for you, he’d changed out of that ridiculously hot button up. Unfortunately for you, he was still wearing those god forsaken white chinos.
“Your little dance Sue was telling me about earlier,” Ben teased, easily catching your hand as it came up to whack him again in his rough, oversized one. “What’s with the long face?”
“Oh that dance was exactly what it looked like. Thanks for coming to dinner though, sweetheart, glad you like the cookies,” Johnny tacked on a wink in your direction, one you affectionately rolled your eyes over, before his smile was back to a frown. “And what of it, Ben?”
“Sounds like your 2:15 with Reed didn’t go well. I’m sorry, pal,”
From across the room, you could see Johnny’s shoulders move in a huff of laughter as he clapped, bringing down the cabinet shelf that held the same box of cereal you had taken from him two weeks ago. You moved around the island counter, filming your cup with more water before standing opposite of Ben while Johnny made his way back over.
“Hey, I’m fine,” he spoke, though the edge in his words was clear as he did, coming to stand directly at your side. “I don’t mind or anything, it’s just, uh-”
“I hear you, pal. We’ll go to space again,”
“That’s what I was trying to tell him earlier,” you tacked on, bumping your hip with Johnny’s, who quickly did the same back to you.
That smile you adored was back in moments, though, as he dug his hand into the box and produced the action figure waiting inside: a miniature Johnny Storm. His bright grin was turned in your direction as he waved the toy toward you, his signature catchphrase from the cartoon–flame on–ringing through the air as Reed entered the room, greeting his wife by the dining room table.
“They captured my likeness so perfectly, don’t you think?” he quipped, activating the catchphrase once again as you rolled your eyes. “Do you still have the one I gave you a few months ago?”
“Yeah, buried in the junk drawer of my kitchen,”
Johnny feigned shock, pinching your side quickly as you squirmed away with a laugh.
“At least upgrade me to your bedside table so I can be with you while you sleep,” that stupid line was accented with another wink before Johnny thrust the toy in Ben’s face. “Come on, admit it’s cool.”
That catchphrase just kept repeating.
I’m Johnny Storm! Flame On!
Flame On!
Flame On!
Ben grabbed the toy from Johnny’s hand in seconds, crushing it to nothing but dust and blowing it back in Johnny’s face with a smirk. You tried everything to conceal your laughter, but it was inevitable.
“Flame off!”
Sirens rang outside the balcony of the building’s living room. The flying cars of the police force raced past, bathing the room in red and blue lights. The second they disappeared, another squadron flew past in the other direction, the sirens all intermixing in the air.
These were the moments you never got to see often, when the team sprung into action. It was clear in Johnny and Ben alone, how their silly little moment was forgotten as they thrust into action, prepared to go running out of the building into danger. Reed simply held up a hand, shaking his head at the group.
“No, no, it’s alright. This is me,”
Ben and Sue followed Reed out onto the balcony, but Johnny hung back, his gaze stuck on you as you hadn’t moved from the kitchen. He simply tilted his head toward his family, holding his hand out for you. Such a simple move that shouldn’t have kickstarted your heart into what was surely an irregular rhythm, but it did.
The second you were at his side, Johnny’s hand rested at the small of your back, fingers curling into the fabric of your shirt just so to tug you slightly closer to his side. Together, you stepped out onto the balcony of the Baxter Building beside Ben, overlooking New York as it was bathed in every corner in red and blue.
“For the past few months, I’ve been tracking a small number of criminal organizations throughout the city,”
You shot a look down at your boss, eyebrow raised.
“That’s what you’ve been doing in that notebook by your desk?” Reed simply waved your comment off, pointing just down the block, fairly close to the area in which your apartment resided.
“47 of them, to be exact. Including the Puppet Master in the Bowery, the Wizard in Gramercy Park, and Diablo in Washington Heights,”
Everyone on the balcony went quiet for a moment.
“You…baby-proofed the world,” Ben finally spoke. Sue’s sigh could be heard from the other end of the balcony as she tried to defend her husband.
“It’s a sweet gesture,”
“It’s a little insane,” you mumbled to yourself, just loud enough for you and Johnny to hear. The blonde at your side simply shrugged, glancing down at you and catching your gaze.
“It’s not totally crazy. He’s trying to protect the things he loves, what’s most precious to him…” Johnny’s lips quirked up just slightly. “I’d do it too…I’d do it for you.”
He said it so…so earnestly. With so much conviction in his tone, as if this was a certainty to him. That protecting not just his family, but you, was something he needed to do. That if it came down to it, he’d do it without a second thought.
“You…you have to stop saying things like that to me, Johnny,” you hated how breathless your voice came out, how wrecked you sounded as you whispered your response back to him, the conversation still droning on in the background between the other three.
The smile on Johnny’s face only widened, his hand slipping around from your lower back to your waist, as he gave you a light squeeze.
“Stop saying what, the truth?”
No, you need to stop saying things that are making me fall in love with you.
Love. That was a word that had only crossed your mind once when it came to Johnny Storm.
It was two years ago, a week to the day that you had lost your mother, your biggest supporter in life. You stood at that funeral, surrounded by estranged family members you hadn’t spoken to in years, and family friends who wept for your loss. Reed, Sue, Ben and Johnny had come, offered their condolences, paid their respects.
When the others left, Johnny stayed. He stood by your side through the first viewing, never left it during the second viewing, and stood with you in the pouring rain an hour after they’d put her in the ground. You had cried, he held you, and he’d simply never left you alone that day. The colleague that had quickly become a friend, who flirted with you every chance he got, never uttered a single flirtatious comment that day. He’d simply been there, been the shoulder you needed.
That was the day you realized you may have fallen in love with the one man you told yourself not to fall in love with, and you buried those feelings in your heart for what you thought would be forever.
“Stuck in your head over there? Come on, it’s dinner time,”
Ben’s voice broke you from your stupor. The team had all started to make their way inside while you were left at the balcony railing, hands white knuckled on top of the rail.
Johnny’s hand was held out toward you, and you ignored every part of your brain that told you not to and slipped your hand into his, letting him pull you back in toward the living room.
That’s what their watches all went off, alerts blaring in sync with one another.
It was like a firework went off, a boom shattering the night air of the city. The clouds, the sky, were painted in gold, streaks of meteors and debris crossing the sky as they fell to the earth. The sound that emitted from the golden cloud that stretched across the sky, bathing the city in its light, felt…otherwordly. Like a scream, like a warning.
A warm hand enveloped your face, turning your wide eyes away from the scene.
There were very few times you saw Johnny as serious as he was now. Jaw locked, eyes narrowed but still soft as they looked at you, the cascades of gold shone over his face, highlighting his features as another boom sounded off in the distance.
“Go inside, don’t come out,”
Words were caught in your throat. All you could manage was a nod, his thumb doing a single swipe over your cheek, before he patted Reed on the shoulder and launched himself over the railing and into the air, igniting himself as he went.
If not for the moment, you would have stopped to admire him as he flew, bathed in the reds and oranges of his fire. You were awestruck every time you got to witness those cosmic powers firsthand.
Reed, Sue, and Ben had followed not long after, as you could hear the familiar whirled of their car through the air, chasing after Johnny through the city, following whatever had just appeared from the sky.
You? You sat on the living room couch, wringing your hands together to keep them from shaking. You’d been there as they had dealt with Red Ghost, or even Moleman, but this?
This was different. This was otherworldly. This was terrifying. And when Herbie flipped the switch of the television, rolling to your side, you were greeted with the sight of the silver alien woman hovering in Times Square for the first time.
“Your planet is now marked for death. Your world will be consumed by the devourer,”
Her voice sent a single chill down the column of your spine. Herbie’s robotic hand reached out for yours, ceasing the endless wringing of your hands together. You took it without hesitation, though you wished in your heart it was someone else’s hand holding yours in this moment.
“Hold your loved ones close, and speak the words you’ve been afraid to speak. Use this time to rejoice, and celebrate, for your time is short. I herald his beginning…I herald your end…I herald, Galactus.”
And thus began the longest night of your life since the day your colleagues went into space and came back forever changed.
Sending the team into space was the only option, to confront this mystery at its source. Reed had given you the basics in passing: the threat was real, there was documentation of plants across the universe disappearing entirely, the chrome woman’s signature left on each of them. He’d tasked you to the launch team, to prepare Excelsior for launch in T-16 hours.
Hold your loved ones close, and speak the words you’ve been afraid to speak.
Those words rattled around your brain the entire night, into the wee hours of the morning. Even as you helped Lynn set up the press conference, as you conferred with the launch team to ensure that the Excelsior was prepared in every conceivable way, as you checked and double-checked every data point throughout the entire ship, her words never left you.
Hold your loved ones close, and speak the words you’ve been afraid to speak.
The anxiety was clawing at you, even as you threw yourself into work. The notion of what her words meant, of what could happen, of how close the end could be.
The clock read sometime around 2 a.m. when you had finally stepped foot in that guest room made for you. There was no way you were walking home tonight. Besides, come morning, there would still be too much to do, too many data points that needed to be checked, too many scenarios that would need to be run through to make sure your team came back to you.
You knew sleep wasn’t coming to you, though, not when that metallic voice was rattling around your head. Not when an alien threat was upending your life. Not when, two doors away, there was a man that you did, in fact, want to hold close…in case you never got the chance to again.
You loved him. All it took was the end of the world to admit it.
Clad in nothing but an old t-shirt with the 4 logo on the front, one you were sure was Johnny’s, and a pair of shorts, you didn’t care what you looked like as you tore out of the room and into the hallway. Not now, not when your world was being threatened, not when your entire life could be ripped from you in a matter of seconds.
Johnny was awake, just as you knew he would be. White shirt, plaid blue pants you’d seen him sleep in so many times, he stood in his dark room by the windows once more, watching the crews rush around on the ground as they prepared the ship for launch in just a few hours. That same record from earlier in the day was still playing.
I guess I'll never know the reason why you love me as you do. That's the wonder, the wonder of you.
With a step into the room, shutting the door behind you and flicking on the lamp just beside the door, Johnny finally met your eyes.
“I couldn’t sleep,” was the only thing you could manage to say. Johnny tilted his head, studying you silently, before he held out his hand just as he had done hours before.
“Come here,”
Crossing the room in a matter of moments, you all but fell into his arms. His outstretched hand ignored, he was frozen in place for just a moment as you curled your arms around his neck, throwing yourself into his arms. The faint smell of his cologne lingered, as did his bodywash, and the sigh you let out the second the smell hit you was in comfort.
It didn’t take Johnny long to unfreeze, his arms finding their place around your waist. One hand rested on your upper back, one pressing into your lower back. A faint kiss was placed to the side of your head, heat lingering for a second. Heat lingered in your entire body, radiating off of him in waves.
“You have to talk to me, baby,”
Talk? The truth was, you didn’t know where to start. How were you supposed to explain that, since the moment you had met Johnny Storm, your heart was already his. That in all your moments over the years, you’d fallen for the man you told yourself not to fall for. And as the threat from the metallic woman loomed over the world, as he prepared to try and save life as you knew it, the only thing you wanted was to be held by him. To know he was here, that he was okay, that he was with you.
“I-I’m scared,”
Those were the only words you could settle on. Johnny pulled back, his hands sliding gently around the fabric of the shirt hanging loosely from your body until they reached your face. He cradled you, so softly and gently in his hands, it was almost involuntary the way you closed your eyes and leaned into his touch, his warmth, chasing the feeling of security it brought you.
“It’s okay to be,” the gentle tone in his voice washed over you, covering you like a blanket. It’s exactly how he had spoken to you that day, standing in the rain when you refused to leave your mother’s side, reassuring you he was there. “I don’t care what the herald said, I’m not going to let anything happen to you. You know that, right?”
Of course you knew that. If there was anything you knew for certain in this world, it was that when Johnny Storm said he’d protect you, he meant it. He’d spent long enough proving that to you.
There was no hesitation on your part when you laid your own hands overtop of his. Fingers curling around them, tugging his right hand just barely from your cheek, you turned and pressed the lightest of kisses to the palm of his hand.
Johnny froze. You could feel it. The slight tilt of his head, the questioning look that flickered across his face in the moonlight that shone through the windows. It was all fair. You were never the one to cross the boundary like this, to make a move such as this.
“I can’t stop thinking about what she said,” was how you tried to explain yourself, stopping and starting your sentence over and over as you tried to find the right way to explain yourself, the walls crumbling and the floodgates bursting wide open. “Hold your loved ones close, and speak the words you’ve been afraid to speak…it’s why I came to you.”
A single emotion crossed Johnny’s face in seconds: understanding.
That signature smirk of his was back in moments, even if it was twinged with a softness reserved only for you. The heat left your cheeks, but found your hands as Johnny’s fingers intertwined with yours, hanging your joined hands down between you both. There was a bright light that passed over the window for just a moment, bathing the two of you in bright light, before you were plunged back into the darkness of his room yet again.
“You did come to me…why’s that?”
“You know why-”
“I do,” he said it so matter-of-factly, that smirk growing just a tad as he leaned into your personal bubble by just a hair. “This push and pull, four years of ‘will they’ or ‘won’t they.’ I want to hear you say it, baby.”
“It’s not that easy,” you immediately shook your head, teeth gnawing at your bottom lip as Johnny simply watched you. “Saying it…makes it real.”
He scoffed, the sound mixed with laughter, as his head cocked slightly more to the side.
“You came into my bedroom at 2 in the morning–wearing my shirt, might I add–is that not real enough?”
“When you’ve spent years trying to ignore how you feel and refusing to say it, it’s not that easy to say,” you desperately tried to explain. “If I say it…then everything changes.”
Johnny took barely another step forward, and you almost wanted to step back, to bring back the space between you and preserve the small, crumbling wall that still stood between you both.
“A sexy, naked alien woman came to earth and basically prophesied our demise, darling. If there was ever a time to ‘change everything’ and lay it all on the line, I think it’s now,”
Your heart wanted to hang onto the word darling, but your brain was too stuck on the ‘sexy, naked alien woman’ part of his sentence. The sigh that escaped you was instantaneous, as well as the frown, as you shot the blonde man a pointed look.
“Sexy, naked alien woman, Johnny? Seriously?”
“Come on! She was–objectively–attractive. You can’t deny that!”
It was your turn to scoff, tearing your hands from his in a heartbeat, before spinning on your heel. You felt like an idiot–on the precipice of finally confessing your deepest, darkest secret you’d kept locked away for years, and this is what you got.
“I try to be serious with you, Johnny, and you turn it into a joke once again-”
You didn’t get far from him. A hand enveloped your upper arm mid sentence, tugging and spinning your back around. A gasp fell from your lips as you collided with the chest of the man before you.
Whatever you were going to say never saw the light of day. Not when Johnny Storm gripped at your hips, tugged you as impossibly close as he could, and finally–finally–kissed you.
The kiss you’d dreamed about for four years, finally yours.
Johnny’s lips were soft as they slanted against your own, enveloping you in his warmth. They moved against you in a steady rhythm, passionate but still gentle, still testing the waters of the line you had never crossed before.
His hands curled into the fabric of the t-shirt clinging to your body, pushing it up just enough so that his hands could dip underneath. Your breath caught, even as his lips continued to move against yours, as his heated skin made contact with yours, and any part of your brain begging you to stop this was silenced as you melted into him.
Hands landed on his broad chest, gripping the fabric as you let him mold your body to his, the scent of his bodywash enveloping you as your body almost became one with him. In the pits of your stomach, as those heated hands trailed up your waist and ghosted over your ribcage, another flurry of butterflies erupted as a moan slipped past your lips, swallowed by his mouth.
A moan left Johnny’s lips at the sound of your own, one hand leaving your waist to curl around the back of your neck. Those slender fingers buried themselves into your hair, gripping just enough to have another groan of pleasure tumbling from your lips, as he guided your mouth against his own.
“You can’t keep making little noises like that,” his mouth barely left yours as he spoke, lips moving against yours, as he dove back in for another kiss the second he was done speaking.
“Your fault,” was all you could manage out, trying to back away just enough to speak, but Johnny never let your lips go far. Your hands glided up his chest, his neck, curling into his short hair as your thumb crested the ridge of his ear. “I’m trying to be mad at you.”
“Be mad at me later,” was his immediate response, his lips leaving yours just to find their place along your jawline and slide down into the hollow of your neck. His tongue danced its way across your skin, leaving tingles of electricity everywhere he touched you, his words murmured into your neck as he buried himself there. “I’m trying to kiss you.”
There was some part of you that wanted to protest him–over what, you weren’t even sure at this point–but you couldn’t. Not when his teeth dug just so into the side of your neck, leaving his mark on your skin as if he was claiming you as his.
You were always his.
“You c-called–oh god–you called the alien sexy while I was trying to confess,” you just barely managed to get the words out through your moans. Johnny was slowly walking you backward, straight in the direction of his bed while his lips never left the side of your neck, leaving his mark on every inch of skin he could see.
Your foot caught on the raised edge of the platform his seating area sat on, your feet stumbling backward. Johnny was there–he was always there–and tugged you back into him. And god, if you loved those blue eyes before, you loved them even more now: pupils blown wide, Johnny Storm looked about as wrecked as you felt.
“Your confession was four years late, and I’m impatient,” he stole another kiss from you, his teeth sinking just barely into your bottom lip, tugging gently. He let go, pressing a messy kiss to your lips to soothe the pain of his bite, words fanning out over your lips. “I’ve been trying to tell you I’m in love with you for four years now, so please just shut up and let me show you instead. Now–jump.”
At this point, you’d do just about anything he asked of you.
Johnny caught you with ease, both of his hands splayed out across the bare skin of your thighs, locking your legs around his hips. A choked moan fell from your lips the second your core was dragged against the painfully hard length bulging against his own pants, hands curling into his hair as you, this time, desperately pulled him into a kiss.
I’m in love with you. Those words repeated like a mantra in your head. Johnny Storm, the Human Torch, the world’s fire boy and hero that they painted like a sex symbol. The ‘playboy’ with a new girl all the time, never able to hold down a girl…was in love with you.
Your back hit the bed, body bouncing just slightly before settling. His eyes never left you as you crawled back just slightly, propping yourself up on your elbows to look up at him in the dark of the room, lit only by sky and the lamp by the door. The music played faintly in the background, but at this moment, it meant nothing to you.
Johnny’s hands gently touched your knees from where they dangled off the edge of the bed, parting them just so in order to step between them. You watched, entranced by every move he made, body flushed from the heat that coursed through your bare skin at the slightest of touches from him. With a practiced ease, his hand took hold of the back of his shirt, yanking it over his head without hesitation. It found a place to lay somewhere across the room, discarded until the following morning.
It was impossible not to stare. His broad chest, those biceps that always threatened to bulge out of every shirt he wore. His toned abdomen and the trail of hair that led straight to the waistband of his pants, the outline of him still prevalent and straining against the fabric.
“I need to know that you’re sure…about this,” you weren’t used to it, the vulnerability in Johnny’s tone. He leaned over you now, hands splayed across the bed on either side of you, barely a few inches from your face. Those blue eyes flickered down to your lips time and time again. “Because if I kiss you again, I’m not stopping until you’re mine.”
There was no hesitation on your part. Just a single movement of your arms, tossing the old shirt hanging from your upper body across the room to join his. As simple as that, you sat bare before him, chest heaving with every deep breath you took in.
“I was already yours. I always have been,” there was only certainty in your tone as you held his gaze. “Speak the words you’ve been afraid to speak…that’s why I came to you. Because if this is the end of the world, I needed you to know that I love-”
He didn’t let you finish your words. His next kiss was anything but gentle.
Messy, spit coating your lips as Johnny’s tongue seemed to invade your mouth and every one of your senses, his lips devoured yours as if you were his first meal in decades. He kissed with the hunger of a starved man, his hands grasping at every part of your skin they could–your waist, your hip, before finally your ass. The squeeze he gave to your skin, the uptick in heat you felt as if he was burning himself just slightly hotter on purpose, had another moan tumbling from your lips and into his mouth.
The hand still gripping your ass tugged you upward on the bed until your head fell against the silk pillows at the headboard. Your hands never left Johnny’s hair, carding through the strands as you frantically kissed him back, addicted to the feeling, as his hips ground into yours. That bulge in his pants pressed heavenly into your core, the friction rolling your eyes into the back of your head as you let your head fall to the pillows with a moan.
Johnny’s lips were everywhere. From your jawline, to your neck, until they finally reached your collarbone. He lavished you with his lips, tongue running over your skin as his hands trailed up the sides of your lower abdomen, stopping just as they reached the swell of your breasts.
“Since the day you walked in, I’ve thought about this,” his voice was raspy, the words barely understood as they were spoken against your skin. “Since the moment Reed introduced you to us.”
“I-I was wearing a lab coat,” you choked on your words as Johnny’s lips reached your sternum, trailing kissing down your chest, but never where you wanted him. “Hardly sexy, I’d argue.”
“It is when I’m picturing you in that coat and your heels, and nothing else,” he tacked on, before his lips wrapped around your nipple without warning.
You mewled at the sudden contact, one hand returning to his hair on instinct as your back arched off the bed and into him. Johnny’s hand on your abdomen was quick to push you back down, holding you down against the bedding beneath you.
God, with the fire that felt like it was burning through your body, you could’ve sworn that Johnny had caught you on fire. His teeth just barely grazed the sensitive bud in his mouth, a sharp intake of breath leaving your lips on instinct. He was quick to soothe you, tongue swirling around the erect and sensitive bud with rapt attention. A moan slipped through him, felt through your entire body, as your other hand tore into the bedding. Desperate for something to hold onto. Something to ground you in your pleasure.
“I’ve dreamed about you under me. Kissing you, tasting you, loving you,” his practically purred out every single word, tongue flicking back and forth over your sensitive nipple. He moved to the other one easily, delivering the same rapt attention to it.
“I’ve thought about you, too,” you relented, divulging every secret you held dear to the man who lavished every inch of you in love and adoration. “In the kitchen, the lab, in that stupid button up from earlier-”
“I knew you liked that shirt. Wore it just for you,” his husky tone sent another shot of pleasure through you, heat curling through every inch of your body.
The tips of his fingers trailed lightly down your stomach. When Johnny’s head lifted for just a moment to lock his eyes with yours, that familiar smirk on his face, you weren’t given a second to react before heat poured through his touch.
Gasps mixed with moans of pleasure fell from your lips on instinct, that unnatural heat of his pouring through his touch and into your skin. Every movement of his fingers over your ribcage and down your abdomen felt as if it was leaving your skin on fire, branding his touch into your skin so that you would never forget the feeling. Burning him into your memory so that you would always feel the phantom sensations of his touch on your skin.
“You’re absolute perfection, you always have been,” Johnny moaned into your skin, lips trailing over the mounds of your breasts with another series of a thousand kisses. Those heated fingers dipped past the waistband of your shorts, pressing directly against your clothed clit without a warning. The moan you let escape mixed in the air with the moan that tumbled from Johnny’s lips against your skin. “Jesus Christ, baby, you’re so soaked.”
The heat was still there in his fingers, setting off every little nerve ending in you even through the soaked fabric of your panties that you desperately wanted gone. Your hips ground up into his hand, whimpers falling from your lips as you chased after the feeling of him, desperate for friction.
“All for you,” even this hint of pleasure had you stumbling toward the edge, babbling almost incoherently. With a tug to his hair, you were quick to bring Johnny’s lips back to yours, arms wound around his neck. He gave into your needs immediately, devouring you in a kiss as heated as his touch was, fingers rubbing slow circles over where you needed him so desperately. “Please–Johnny, please! Please, I need you. Need you–need you so bad.”
“I got you, baby. I got you. Keep moaning my name like that, and I’ll give you the world”
Those whispered words stayed on your lips, lingering, as Johnny left you. His touch wasn’t gone long. Fingers curling into your shorts, they were discarded across the room in a flash, panties gone with them as well.
For the first time, you laid completely bare in front of the man you loved–the man you denied loving for so long. And Johnny Storm was a mess. His hair stuck up in multiple directions, skin flushed, but he was still beautiful. The most beautiful man you’d ever met, inside and out.
Johnny didn’t give you a second to truly breathe once he was done admiring you. He sprawled out along the end of the bed, head dipping between your thighs, as he licked a single stripe with his flattened tongue directly up your center.
“Fucking beautiful, and all mine,” his words were growled into your core, two fingers lazily moving between your folds and spreading every ounce of wetness around, holding you open so he could see every inch of you. “Sweeter than I ever dreamed you could be.”
He dove into you like you were the only thing that mattered. Fingers spreading you open, giving him access to every square inch, his mouth devoured you. A cool drink of water for a starving man in the middle of the desert. Johnny moved his tongue with precise expertise, as if he knew exactly what your body craved.
Delving into you, flicking back and forth as he drank in every secretion of arousal that dripped from you. That same tongue dragged its way up to your clit, swirling around in figure eights, flicking back and forth.
Cries fell from your lips wantonly, hands digging into his hair. Eyes fluttered shut, head tilted back to the ceiling, there was only one word you could repeat over and over again: Johnny, Johnny, Johnny.
His name was all you knew anymore, too lost in your own bliss and pleasure.
In one fell swoop, your thighs were settled over his shoulders, before his head was back where you wanted it more than anything. His lips and tongue focused on your clit, still swirling back and forth, as his fingers dipped slightly lower, dancing right across your opening.
It started with one long, slender finger sliding into you. One of your hands was forced to leave Johnny’s hair, falling over your own mouth to try and conceal the cry that threatened to burst from you, afraid that the others would hear you.
“Let me hear you, baby,” he laughed against your core, his finger curling just perfectly against your walls as they clenched around him every time he dragged his finger back and forth. “Want to hear you.”
“Don’t want to–fucking hell, Johnny–let the others hear,”
“Let them. Let them hear me love you,”
Fuck Johnny Storm and his stupid lines. His stupid dirty talk that had your walls clenching around him again and again.
Another finger joined the first, followed by another, before you were stretched as wide as you could be around Johnny. The squelch of your juices rung through the air with every move of his fingers–dragging so deliciously into you, curling up, before dragging out just to the edge of your opening. His mouth–god, his mouth–never let up, lapping away at your core like it was his job, what he was meant to do.
That coil of pleasure deep within your lower body came out of nowhere, sneaking up on you just like your love for this man had.
“Johnny–baby–I can’t. I can’t–I’m gonna-”
“Let go, darling,” came that growl in his voice again, the speed of his fingers increasing. “I got you baby, let go.”
That coil snapped in seconds after he spoke. The precipice of your orgasm was earth-shattering, like you’d never felt before. Like trails of fire through your veins, the pleasure coursing through you had your head buried into the pillow behind your head, desperately trying to conceal the wails of pleasure that tumbled from your lips. Your thighs snapped shut around Johnny’s head, but his ministrations never let up as he eagerly drank up every bit of your arousal that leaked from you.
The come down was slow, like waking up. Your breath was uneven, heart beating erratically when you finally pulled your head from the pillow. Eyes bleary, it took a moment to blink them back to life.
Johnny stood at the edge of the bed, discarding his pants and boxers to the pile of clothing littering the other side of the room. And even in your fucked-out, blissful state, one look at him for the first time had that burning desire coursing back through your veins.
He was big. There was no way around it, no denying it, no other way to put it. Flushed, hanging with that beautiful reddened tip, one large and prominent vein throbbing along the edge of it. Beads of precum collected at the tip, his hand smearing it down along his length as he gave himself one single pump before he was crawling back onto the bed.
Johnny knelt between your legs again. Even with limbs that felt like Jell-O, you met him halfway, dragging yourself into a seated position. It was the smile on his face right now, the one erupting those butterflies once more, that you decided was your favorite: soft, adoring, loving.
It was your hands that cupped his cheeks, bringing him into a soft kiss. The taste of you lingered on his lips, sweet just like he said. You poured every ounce of emotion into your kiss, trying to convey to him the years you’d spent loving him so quietly that you couldn’t admit it.
“I might be addicted to you, Johnny Storm,” your words were mumbled into his lips. He laughed so gently, stealing another peck.
“Glad you finally caught up with me, princess, I’ve been addicted since day one,”
Pressed to him, his lips stealing a thousand pecks from yours, the lust in your bones was back in full force. All you could do was hum in response, one of your hands trailing down his chest, nails dragging slowly over his abdomen, before you finally took his throbbing cock in your hand.
He felt even bigger than he looked, which didn’t even make sense in your mind. But he was hot, the skin searing into your hand in the best way. You gave him one squeeze, one tug, and you smiled at the hitch in his breath. The twitch of his cock in your hold.
Johnny’s hand quickly grabbed yours, though, unlatching it from him. All you could do was shake your head, practically whining as you tried to take your hand back.
“Johnny-”
“God, it’s so hot how eager you are to touch me,” he laughed again, tilting his head to leave a single kiss to the column of your throat. “This is about you, doll. Save that for next time. It can be a ‘welcome home from space’ gift for me. A ‘thanks for saving the world’ gift, if you will.”
Space.
That word was enough to have your next words caught in your throat as the weight of everything came crashing back down on you. The threat, the herald, the space launch commencing in a matter of hours now, the events that brought you here in the first place.
You weren’t sure when you started crying, when a single tear slipped down your cheek, but Johnny caught it. Eyes full of concern, but understanding, he simply wiped the tears from your cheek, laying a kiss to the wet splotch of your skin.
“No crying, none of that. Just lay back, baby,”
You listened, letting his hands guide you gently to rest back against the pillows once more. Parting your legs, Johnny placed himself between them, holding himself up over your body on his forearms. Right where he belonged.
Your hands rested on his chest, sliding up so gently to his neck. His eyes never left yours, his length sitting right against your soaked and sensitive core, gliding back and forth with each gentle twitch of his hips.
“You didn’t let me say it earlier. So let me say it, for the first time outloud,” you gave him a watery smile, lips quivering as you looked up at him. “I love you, Johnny Storm. I’ve loved you for so long. I’m sorry it took the world maybe ending for this, that I didn’t let myself be yours sooner.
He smiled, that same charming smile he always did, as he rolled his hips once more. His cock caught just along the edge of your opening as Johnny dipped down, breath fanning over your lips.
“Like you said: you’ve always been mine,”
The first press of his length into your core stung. As wet as you were, as prepared as you were for him, it had been so long. He stretched your walls little by little, taking his time as your body adjusted to him. Then, inch by inch, he sunk within your walls that clung to him tightly.
His cock bottomed out, sunk fully within you, bare hips pressed to bare hips as you both let out shaky breaths. Your nails dug into the hair at the nape of his neck while his hands trailed up your ribcage, squeezing every moment or so as choked out moans fell from his lips.
“God–so tight for me, baby–you feel like heaven,”
His name was the only thing you could manage to choke out between your moans as he dragged himself back to the tip, before burying himself again to the hilt. Your moans, your cries and the way your hands threaded into his hair only spurred him on more, Johnny’s hips snapping into yours again and again and again.
His lips found yours amidst every snap of his hips, every drag of his cock against your walls. Every moan that slipped through your lips was drowned out by him, by the feverish movements of his lips against yours. They trailed away, back to your neck, leaving a trail of saliva connecting you together as he bit another love bite into the side of your neck. It didn’t matter to you how this would look to others, how scandalous you might look in the light of day to others.
All that mattered was Johnny Storm.
“Oh god, Johnny!” your head fell to his shoulder, teeth sinking into his skin as his hips snapped against yours over and over, driving him deeper with every thrust into you. “Holy fuck, w-why weren’t we doing this for years?”
“Because you’ve been a stubborn–fuck–little tease all these years,” his tongue dragged up the column of your throat, peppering kissing up and down your skin as his cock dragged against your walls. “Bent over your workstation in the lab–oh god–you don’t know how many times I’ve thought about it. Thought about walking in and taking you right there, making a mess right at your desk.”
“R-Reed would walk in and you’d scar him for life,”
“Sounds like a win-win to me,” there was shared laughter, punctuated with a shared moan as his cock dragged right against that spot nestled within you. “And try not to talk about my brother-in-law when I’m fucking you.”
There was no time to reply as Johnny scooped up your wrists in his hand in a single motion, pinning them down above your head. He adjusted your waist, suddenly driving into you at a new angle that had you mewling his name all over again.
Johnny whispered your name into your skin with every kiss, timed just so with every snap of his hips against yours. That coil of heat was burning, wounding itself tighter and tighter for the second time that night. All you could feel was him, was Johnny.
His warmth, the heat that burned off of him. It warmed your skin, it had beads of sweat dripping down your forehead. It was uncomfortable in the best way. His one hand still trailed up and down your ribcage, every so often tweaking your sensitive nipple between his thumb and index finger and coaxing another moan of pleasure from you.
He worshiped you, every inch of you, like you were the greatest thing to ever grace the earth. To him, you might have been
“Fucking perfect, baby. Fucking made for me,” his lips found yours again, slick with spit as his tongue dipped into your mouth to taste every inch of you possible.
His stroke faltered, the rhythm uneven, and you knew he was close. That coil of heat in your stomach was threatening to snap any second every time his cock pulsed and throbbed within your walls. His grip on your wrists was tight, even as you struggled against him, desperate to just hold him.
“Johnny–baby–please I-I’m so close-”
You choked on your words once more, the hand still trailing across your stomach heating up again, leaving a burning trail of heat in your skin. Those heated fingers found your clit like it was second nature, a cry of pure pleasure leaving your lips as they circle that bundle of a thousand nerves over and over again, hips still snapping into you as quickly and desperately as they can.
“Let go,” his voice was husky, eyes blown wide as he looked down at you. Your wrists were finally let go, your hands immediately finding their place in the strands of his hair again as his free hand cups the back of your neck, smashing your lips into his in a flurry of moans. “Let go, baby, let go.”
Your second climax burned hotter than the first.
The pleasure burned so hot, so bright, you were practically sobbing, every cry and moan of pure bliss muffled by his kiss. Your legs locked around Johnny’s waist–tightly–so tight he could barely move away from you. It was overwhelming, the shockwaves of bliss that ran through your veins, the shaking of your thighs as you held onto his hair like it’s a lifeline.
He ground himself into you over and over, rhythm so far gone he was struggling. But all it took was your lips lazily finding his neck, teeth sinking in to leave your matching mark to his, for his hips to still as he spilt into you.
Johnny breathed out every moan into the side of your head, your name tumbling from his lips along with a flurry of swears. The grip he had on your hip was bruising, so tight you think he could snap the damn bone if he held any tighter. And his cock? Seated so deeply inside of you it’s as if you are one, heat pooled within your lower abdomen with every wave of cum that filled you to the brim.
On the other side of the room, the record was still playing softly. Bright lights still flashed by the windows every so often, crews still at work on the spaceship set for launch by mid-morning.
None of it mattered in the silence of the bed.
You aren’t sure how long either of you laid there. Your heartbeat, eventually, returned to normal, even as your chest still heaved to take in every breath that it could. Johnny still laid half on top of you, pressing repeated kisses to the side of your head, but said nothing. Your hand stayed in his hair, carding through it, as your core pulsed. It would ache come morning–hell, it already did–but it was worth it. It was so worth it.
Neither of you were quite sure when he pulled out of you, or how long you simply laid there and basked in the afterglow of a moment that should’ve happened years ago.
Eventually, Johnny shifted down. His lips trailed down your body in worship, like they’d done already that night. From your cheek, to your neck, your collarbone, the swell of your breasts, and down your lower abdomen.
“Careful…not sure I’d survive a round three,” your voice was hoarse, mouth dry. Johnny laughed against your skin, still kissing every inch he could see.
“I don’t think I would, either,”
His hands were heated once more, but not for the same purpose as moments before. Now, his touch was gentle, massaging every piece of you that he could get his hands on. His thumbs rubbed into your wrists, your waist, and your hips, digging into the muscles. A sigh escaped you at the comforting feeling, taut muscles loosening at the feeling of the heat and the movement of his hands.
With every kiss pressed to your skin, you could feel it: Johnny was humming. It didn’t take long to know which song he was humming, which lyrics: that same song once again.
I guess I'll never know the reason why, you love me as you do. That's the wonder, the wonder of you.
“Is that our song now?” you laughed, even if your heart was clenching at the mere thought. The mere idea of that song belonging to the two of you–the idea that Johnny Storm belonged to you.
You could feel his smile against your abdomen as he spoke. “It should be. It’s accurate. Because I don’t ever think I’ll get over the miracle that is you…loving me.”
It’s not a miracle. What you really want to tell him is that falling in love with him was so easy, you barely realized you had done it. It might be the easiest thing you’ve ever done.
Johnny crawled back up your body, slotting himself onto the bed beside you, before tugging you in. There’s no hesitation on your part, simply curling into his side with your head over his chest and arm slung around his waist. Words aren’t needed in the silence, not when you’ve both clearly laid everything out on the table now. Instead, you just listened to the beat of his heart, the natural rhythm that lulls you into a state of peacefulness.
He’s yours. Johnny Storm is yours. He’s always been yours, you just didn’t know it.
He pressed a kiss to your forehead, hand cradling the back of your head as he said his next words confidently.
“We’re going to go up there tomorrow, and we’re going to stop this guy. We’re going to protect this Earth, like we’ve sworn to do. But me? I’m going to do it so I can come home to you, and love you for the rest of my life. I promise,”
He can’t promise that, you knew he couldn’t. There was no telling what might happen when that ship took off tomorrow, what they might encounter, or who this Galactus really was.
But Johnny Storm loved you. For now, in the quiet of the night, just between the two of you, that’s enough.
You wanna explain how this is quite possibly the best Johnny Storm fic I have ever read?
I've been in the F4 fandom longer than some of you have been alive and this fic is beautiful. Johnny's in character and super cute, just as he always is, I love Y/N, she's not another super hero or anything, she's an assistant.
Characters: Billy Hargrove, Steve Harrington, Eddie Munson.
Pairings: HarrinGrove, MunGrove, Steddie
Rating: Mature –
MINORS GO THE HELL AWAY AND PLAY WITH YOUR BLOCKS.
Warnings: Suggestive themes, NSFW scenes, little bit of swearing, is the 80s to internalised homophobia and masculinity.
I hope you guys enjoy! Please reblog if you do!
“Billy!” Steve skidded across the StarCourt floor, his hand instantly coming to the gaping wound in Billy’s chest, looking down at the man who was struggling for breath.
His hands quickly pressing down on the wound, even though he knew it wasn’t going to help, he could literally feel Billy fading underneath his fingertips.
“Steve,” he muttered, hands shaking as he tried to pull his necklace off, placing it into Steve’s palm, “for….you,” he heaved as he looked up at Steve, as if trying to remember what he looked like.
“Billy, c’mon, you can’t leave, you can’t leave Max alone!” he shouted, his voice breaking slightly as he watched the man he’d grown to love fade before him, trying to hold himself together as the group was still around them.
Steve felt his heart shatter when he saw the light finally leave Billy’s eyes, his hand gripping the necklace Billy had given him so tightly that the chain cut into his hand.
Steve had decided to wear the necklace Billy had gifted him, a red and black guitar pick hanging on a chain, a small engraving of L.E on the back of it in handwriting that reminded him of Dustin’s writing.
─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───
Since Billy’s death, he’d been trying to keep himself busy, trying to forget the tender moments he’d had with the man, the feelings that had blossomed out of nowhere after they’d had sex after a verbal argument.
He’d never forget how soft and teasing Billy’s lips were, how his large hands used to tug at his hand and grab greedily at his backside.
But then, he’d also never forget Billy’s reaction to Steve confessing he was in love with him.
The sheer confusion and disbelief on Billy’s face was an entertaining sight, something that quickly led to Billy shoving him against the wall of his bedroom, kissing him as if he was trying to say ‘I love you’ without properly saying it, something Steve fully understood.
It’s the 80s after all.
─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───
“Can you drop me off at school?” Dustin made him jump, practically leaning into his Beamer already, “mum’s not well and I don’t wanna bother her,” he added and Steve couldn’t help but think that it was a good thing Dustin was somewhat adorable otherwise he would have clapped the kid upside the head.
“Get in,” Steve sighed, starting his car up, the sound of Queen quietly playing in the background, something Billy would have loved.
“You okay?” Dustin frowned noticing how quiet Steve was and the older man just hummed.
“I’m good, just tired….is Max okay?” he asked cautiously, knowing how hard Billy’s death had been on her mental health.
“She’s a lot more quiet…but she’s tough, she won’t break,” Dustin nodded with a smile, his belief in his friends was something Steve had always admired about him.
“Yeah, she is,” he agreed.
“Thanks Steve!” Dustin grinned, getting out of his car and beelining for Lucas, who greeted Dustin with a fist bump.
“Yeah, yeah,” Steve muttered, watching the kids for a moment, just to make sure they would be safe, his fingers tapping on his steering wheel in an attempt to distract himself even further.
It was then that he spied the one and only Eddie Munson walking toward the kids with a grin, high fiving Dustin and ruffling Mike’s hair with affection.
Steve huffed, slight jealousy filling him as he was a little prickly when it came to his friendship with Dustin, enjoying the role of being a big brother to the kid.
Getting out of his car, he leaned against the roof, needing a moment in the cold winter air to sort his brain out, his fingers absentmindedly running over his necklace.
“Heeey, Stevie-boy!” Eddie grinned when he spotted him, wandering over with his normal playful attitude, his massive puppy dog eyes staring through Steve’s soul.
“What do you want, Munson?” Steve asked, running his fingers through his hair.
Eddie paused for a moment, eyeing Steve with an unreadable expression, his gaze now focused on the necklace that he was practically cradling between his fingers/
“What?” Steve asked with annoyance, feeling self-conscious under such a stare.
“Where did you get that necklace?” Eddie asked, his voice unnaturally serious and emotional at the same time.
“What’s it to you?”
Eddie faltered slightly, his eyes flickering around nervously.
“Steve,” he licked at his lips, “I think you and I need to talk later on, meet me at my trailer okay?” he whispered, his eyes looking urgent and Steve could only nod at him, confusion flooding his system as Eddie disappeared into the school.
─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───
“This better be good, Munson, I’m tired,” Steve scratched at his arm, judging Eddie’s living conditions for a moment, a small glint of compassion running through him.
“Where did you get that necklace from?”
Steve scoffed and shook his head.
“It was a gift,”
It was Eddie’s time to scoff.
“Yeah, it was,”
Steve stared at him confused.
“Did Billy give you that necklace?”
Steve stuttered slightly, feeling incredibly nervous and frightened, his sexuality had always been something he’d tried to hide, he didn’t really want Eddie Munson to be the one he came out to.
“Steve,” Eddie pulled at his rings with agitation, “did he give you that necklace?”
“Yes,” Steve replied quickly, looking away from Eddie, not brave enough to keep eye contact.
“Okay, I’m gonna tell you something, but you need to keep your god damn mouth shut, okay?” Eddie grabbed a cigarette, lighting it up as his hands shook, “Swear to me you’ll keep it to yourself,”
Steve nodded, “I swear,”
Eddie took a deep breath, his legs jumping up and down from the anxiety.
“You know how you were with Wheeler?” he licked his lips as Steve nodded, “I was like that with Billy,” he let out a frustrated noise, not able to keep in one position as it felt like his insides were ripping.
Steve felt his world shift slightly.
“You were….with Billy?” Steve asked and sat down beside the jittery man, who just nodded, taking a drag of his cigarette.
“I gave him that necklace,” Eddie muttered, eyeing it with a strange fondness in his eyes, it made Steve want to hide it from him, “l.e,” he mumbled, eyeing the inscription he’d down a few years ago, “love, Eddie,” he explained with a shrug, laughing nervously.
“Eddie,” Steve looked him over, feeling a strange connection to him, “I was with him too,” he admitted quietly, his large hands rubbing over his face in frustration.
“Were you there….when he died…is that why you have that necklace?” Eddie asked, shakily puffing through his cigarette.
“Yeah” Steve flinched when a flashback of Billy blood-soaked clothes came to mind, the way Billy coughed up blood, trying to stay awake just to see Steve once more.
“Sorry,” Eddie sighed shaking his head, “I didn’t mean to put that memory to the front of your head, I’m sorry,”
It fell silent for a long while, both men seemingly going on their own memory lanes that they’d journeyed with Billy Hargrove.
“Are you homosexual?” Eddie asked suddenly, making Steve grunt and roll his eyes.
“Not fully, I still like girls,” Steve muttered, shuffling his feet awkwardly.
“Both?” Eddie tilted his head to the side like the overgrown puppy he was, “never heard of that before,”
“Are you homosexual?” Steve quickly asked.
“Yep,” Eddie chewed his bottom lip, flicking his burnt-out cigarette out the window, “part of the reason my old man kicked me out, found me with a boy from my middle school, kissing,” he sighed heavily.
“How long were you with Billy?” Steve asked curiously, watching as Eddie stretched out on the sofa.
“Couple of years,” he replied with a small smile, “guy was a sweetheart when he needed to be,” he added and looked at Steve, “I’m sure you know that though,”
Steve’s breath caught in his throat.
“Y-yeah, I know,”
Eddie let out a soft laugh, shaking his head as he looked at the ground.
“Can’t believe he kept that necklace,” he mumbled, eyeing it around Steve’s neck, “suits you much more, I have to say,” he added, trying to lighten the mood.
“Clearly meant a lot to him,” Steve reassured him, meeting Eddie’s eyes for the first time in what felt like forever, “Billy wasn’t exactly one to wear stuff that was sentimental…but he still wore this,” he tugged at the chain a bit, “do you…want this back?” he asked nervously and Eddie snorted.
“No, It was my gift to Billy, to show how I felt about him, he must’ve seen it a way to say that he cared for you in the same manner,” Eddie pointed out, “plus what sort of dickhead would I be to take your boyfriend’s gift?” he chuckled.
Boyfriend.
Steve felt heat race through him, he’d never really put a label on what Billy was to him, just a man he was in love with, he’d never really called him a boyfriend.
It felt nice to give him that title, even if it was too late to say it to his face.
“Yeah,”
Eddie noticed the slight sadness in Steve’s face and he clicked his tongue rapidly as he tried to think of a way to distract Steve.
“Have you ever seen or heard me play guitar?” Eddie asked, making Steve look up at him with a baffled expression, his hazel eyes staring at Eddie like he’s grown another head.
“No?” he replied softly, his eyes watching as Eddie smirked, causing a sense of dread to suddenly go through him, “Munson, I’m not much of a metalhead,” Steve pulled at his bright orange sweater.
“You hurt me Stevie, thinking I only play Metal,” Eddie tutted playfully as he re-entered the room, his trademark electric guitar nowhere to be seen, instead a gorgeous acoustic guitar.
“What else can you play?” Steve questioned, sitting criss-crossed on the sofa.
“A number of things, so throw a song out there for me and I’ll tell you if I can play it,” Eddie smiled at him, lightly plucking the strings to make sure it was in tune.
“You know any Queen?” Steve asked quietly, and just by the look Eddie gave him, it was very apparent that the other man knew why he was asking.
“Yes, I know a lot of Queen,” Eddie replied, his plectrum was now being flipped between his fingers, a testament to years and years of practice with his instrument of choice.
“Do you know how to play Crazy Litle Thing Called Love?” Steve picked at his fingers slightly, watching as Eddie snorted.
“Do I know how to-“ he lightly pushed at Steve’s shoulder, “dude, please, I love Metal but even I know how fucking great Queen is,” he grinned, “they were some of the first songs I truly perfected on a guitar long since departed,” he sighed dramatically making Steve laugh a bit.
Eddie didn’t even let Steve get another word out, his fingers immediately moving up and down the fretboard, looking completely at ease as he played the tune, choosing the hum instead of sing as he was a little shy about his voice.
Steve smiled slightly, closing his eyes, his hands linked on his stomach as he simply thought of one of the few playful memories he had of the usual tough guy.
─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───
“What’s the matter Your Majesty, jealous of another monarch?” Billy chuckled as he turned Queen up on the radio, his smirk like the devils as Steve rolled his eyes at him, laying on his bed.
“No, I just thought you were coming over here to make out,” Steve huffed slightly, stretching out and looking up at Billy again, jumping a bit when he saw how dark his eyes had gotten.
“Oh really?” Billy smirked, caging Steve on the bed like the lion he was, his smirk still sitting proudly on his face as he watched Steve Harrington’s face flushed a dark red.
“I could punch you in your face right now,” Steve arched his eyebrow at him, having to bite the inside of his cheek to stop himself from laughing when Billy let out a roar of laughter, his hand moving downward and smacking Steve’s backside playfully.
“Nah, you wouldn’t do such a thing, right?” Billy pushed his forehead to Steve’s lightly, a small tender action that caught Steve off guard, “wouldn’t wanna ruin the view as I pound into you, right?”
Aaaaaand, there it was, typical Billy attitude, making Steve roll his eyes once again, his fingers quickly flicking the man between the eyes.
Billy quickly snatched his wrist into his hand, his eyes warning Steve, only teasingly though, his grin still on his face as he slowly linked his fingers with him.
“And here I was thinking we were gonna have a soft afternoon,” Billy chuckled deeply into Steve’s ear, making Steve shiver, his eyes fluttering closed.
The bouncy tune of Queen’s ‘Crazy Little Thing Called Love’ played in the background, masking the noises of their lips meeting and parting, the gasps that left them as they urgently embraced one another, hands pulling at clothing, teeth biting at skin.
“Ah shit,” Eddie finished the song, his eyes now on Steve in concern, he put his guitar down and grabbed some toilet paper for him, “you’re crying,” he pointed out, making Steve freeze a bit as he slowly took the tissue and wiped his face.
“Sorry,”
─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───
Eddie frowned at him.
“For what, grieving?” he shook his head, “cry as much as you want man, I was just…hoping to cheer you up a bit, is all,” he mumbled, a slight red hue to the tips of his ears and he’d never ever been so thankful for his hair.
“It did cheer me up,” Steve smiled, “these are happy tears,” he watched as Eddie anxiously watched over him like a nervous puppy, “oh my god, I’m not gonna break, man,” he rolled his eyes slightly.
“I know but…” Eddie let out a small sigh, “I dunno, I’m just worried…about you and the Mayfield girl,”
“Max,”
“Right, Max,”
“Eddie, we’re okay, we’re just sad,”
Eddie chewed his bottom lip, nodding slowly at him.
“Did…she know about you and Billy?” Eddie asked curiously.
“No, most of the time he was at my place, couldn’t be around that father of his,” Steve glared at the memory of him, watching as Eddie’s face turned into something similar.
“Same, my uncle knows,” Eddie explained vaguely, “he’s pretty chill with it, even if he doesn’t quite understand it,” he laughed lightly and Steve felt a pang of jealousy at the acceptance Eddie had found within his own family when Steve was terrified to come out to his parents.
“He was okay with you bringing a guy home?” Steve asked with wide eyes, watching as Eddie played with the rings on his fingers.
“I mean, I wouldn’t say that he was over the moon or anything, but I think he was just happy that I was happy,” he smiled affectionately, his eyes drifting to a photo of his uncle briefly.
“If it’s alright to ask, why did you and Billy…call it off?” Steve asked, arm resting on the back of the sofa now.
“Oh, I was putting my hobbies before anything to do with the relationship,” Eddie sighed, a tinge of regret in his voice, “I couldn’t focus on anything and I went into a bit of a spiral, Billy couldn’t handle it either, not with the shit going on at home and so,” he gestured to himself, “Single Eddie,”
Steve snorted slightly.
“Never thought he’s fall for the King, though,” Eddie winked at him playfully, causing Steve to want to hide in his sweater.
“Stop, fucking hell, I hate that stupid ass nickname,” Steve rubbed his temples when he heard Eddie cackle beside him.
“Yeah, I know, but it’s fun to watch you get flustered,” Eddie scratched at his chin, Steve’s eyes taking note of the flaky black nail polish.
Eddie paused, noticing where Steve was looking, a soft chuckle leaving him.
─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───
“Sit still Munson!” Billy puffed an annoyed breath out, his eyes practically making Eddie freeze under his gaze.
“I’m just tickledat the thought of Billy Hargrove knowing how to paint nails,” Eddie snickered, his gaze watching as Billy held his hand gently, brush in hand as he painted his nails.
“I have a little sister, Ed,” Billy muttered, “she made me do this for her all the fucking time when we were younger,” he sighed heavily again, but Eddie could hear a small amount of fondness for those memories, they must’ve been the last few happy ones Billy had with his new family before his father started to turn on him.
“Dude, please tell me there are photos or something of that?” Eddie was practically bouncing on the bed, making Billy give him a stern look again.
“Ed,”
“Sorry,”
Billy shook his head with a small laugh, tugging Eddie’s face to his, their lips meeting for a brief kiss.
“Fucking weirdo,” Billy murmured against Eddie’s mouth and for once, it didn’t feel like an insult, it felt like an endearment.
─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───
Steve watched Eddie smile at his nails fondly.
“You good there?”
Eddie nodded.
“Yup, just Billy memories I guess,” he shrugged, “he used to have to paint my nails because I couldn’t sit still,” he laughed, “I got better at managing everything and now I’m better than he ever was,” he boasted, making Steve laugh, his hand coming down on his stomach.
“Billy painted your nails?” Steve smirked.
“Oh yeah, and he’d put my hair in a ponytail,” Eddie rolled his eyes, “though that was for various reasons,” he said suggestively and Steve instantly looked to the floor, images flashing in his mind of the possibilities.
“Oh, this is like…bonding,” Eddie chuckled, “tell me, Harrington, did you ever manage to top the beast in the bedroom?” he grinned playfully, cackling once more when Steve sunk further into the sofa, his hands rubbing his face once again.
“Did you?” Steve asked with a curious look, his jaw falling open slightly when Eddie wiggled his eyebrows at him, “what the fuck, how did you ever do that?!”
“Stevie, Stevie, Stevie,” Eddie chuckled, his eyes sparkling with mischief, “I may look like a twig, but you forget,” he gestured around the room at the wannabe rock ‘n’ roll lifestyle he lived in, “I’m made of tougher shit than people think I am…I mean I run away a lot, but that isn’t the point,”
Steve laughed softly.
“Plus Billy was….trying to see if he would enjoy it,” Eddie shook his head.
“And did he?”
Eddie laughed loudly.
“Ass up, Hargrove,” Eddie smirked, his palm slapping his lover on the rump, enjoying the groan that left the usually dominant man.
“Hurry up, Ed!” Billy glared over his shoulder, looking both angry and horrifically aroused at the same time, like he was fighting with about a hundred different emotions at once.
“Aw, baby,” Eddie leaned over him, placed kisses between his shoulder blades as his hips jutted against him teasingly, his teeth biting down, hard on Billy’s shoulder, “you getting desperate for me?”
“Munson!”
“He wasn’t too keen on my teasing,” Eddie smirked, “I mean, you know what I mean right?” Steve nodded with a laugh.
“Yeah, he wasn’t one for a lot of teasing,” Steve shook his head, “though, he was a fan of uniforms,” this made Eddie’s eyes snap to him in surprise.
“Are you fucking kidding me?”
“Nope,”
Steve licked his lips proudly.
“That shit Scoops Ahoy! Uniform?” Steve pointed out, Eddie’s eyes widening, “Billy was like….obsessed with me in that thing,”
“Holy shit, Billy, slow down!” Steve panicked as he tried to keep up with Billy after the other man had stormed into Scoops Ahoy! And into the bathrooms, his eyes burning as he quickly checked that they were alone.
“What’s wrong with you?” Steve frowned, slightly concerned as Billy was currently breathing heavily like he’s run a marathon.
“Billy!” Steve grabbed the other man by the shoulder, “what is wr-“ he let out a noise of surprise when he was slammed back into the doors to the bathrooms, his lips taken over by Billy’s as he felt his uniform being felt up.
“You didn’t tell me you were working here,” Billy smirked as he pulled away, grinning at the flushed state of Steve, “you look so fucking good,”
Steve went to reply, but he was quickly kissed once more, his hands pulling at the golden locks he’d touched so many times before.
“This is what turns you on?” Steve panted, his eyebrow arched in confusion, making Billy’s deep chuckle rumble through the both of them.
“Oh Steve,” Billy purred, his hands exploring under his shirt, “I can’t stop picturing you in nothing but that fucking hat,”
“Man, I knew I should have opened up more about kinks and shit,” Eddie snorted playfully, his eyes roaming over Steve for a second, trying to picture him in the Scoops Ahoy! Uniform, something that was a little difficult as he’d only seen Steve in the bloody thing about three times.
“Stop picturing me in the uniform,” Steve warned him, a punch meeting Eddie’s shoulder.
“You mentioned it!” Eddie grinned, his eyes now noticing how Steve’s gaze liked to linger on his fingers.
“I never wanna be in that fucking uniform ever again,” Steve whined, running his hands through his luxurious hair, Eddie’s heart felt like it was going to give out.
“Shame,” Eddie gave him a goofy smile, “I remember you looking awfully good in those little shorts of yours,”
“Oh I so regret coming here,” Steve laughed slightly, his words having no bite whatsoever, actually enjoying his time with Eddie for once without a gaggle of kids around them.
Eddie grinned, the both of them not really paying much attention to the fact that they had shifted closer together on the sofa.
“No, you don’t,” Eddie smiled softly, “wouldn’t have found another…well,” he gestured between the two of them.
Steve felt his heart skip a beat, realising just how much he had needed to be open with somebody about who he was.
“Yeah,” he whispered, his thumb still brushing over the necklace, “it’s been…fun, Munson,” Steve smiled gently, trying to show him that he was being serious, not even noticing how Eddie was struggling not to have an anxiety attack being in his presence.
“Yeah, been fun,” he whispered.
Eddie paused, his breath catching in his throat as he looked at the man next to him.
“Steve, I…”
Steve watches in silence as Eddie has an inward struggle.
“Dude this is so inappropriate,” Eddie muttered to himself, “I uh,” she cracked his fingers, his eyes staring at the ground nervously.
“Eddie?”
“Ah, dude c’mon, don’t say my name like that,” Eddie whined and rubbed at his eyes in annoyance.
“Would …you ever date a guy,,,like me?” Eddie cleared his throat, looking away from Steve.
Steve let out a strange noise, too stunned by the question to even speak.
This made Eddie panic, big time, jumping up from his seat and pacing up and down his trailer, hands nervously tugging at his hair.
“I’m sorry, that was a shitty thing to ask, considering who…you just lost I just…”
Steve got to his feet slowly, his large hand grabbing at Eddie’s wrist.
“Ed, stop,” he sighed, his grip tightening a bit when Eddie’s puppy eyes came back into view, making his chest warm, “you’re a fucking dumbass,” he tugged Eddie closer to him.
“Why wouldn’t I wanna go out with a guy like you?” Steve asked with a shake of his head, “you’re hot, like….really hot,” Steve sighed loudly, rolling his eyes when the smirk crept onto Eddie’s lips.
“Would you wanna….actually go out with….me?” Eddie asked gently, nearly jumping out of his skin when Steve quickly placed a kiss on his lips, he let out a small moan against Steve’s lips.
“Billy would be freaking out right now,” Eddie laughed against Steve’s lips, “struggling to hide his boner,” he added with a grin, crying out when Steve smacked his arm.
“Shut up,” Steve laughed, “although,” he smiled fondly as he pictured Billy in his mind, “he was always saying he knew somebody if I ever wanted a threesome,” Steve looked over Eddie’s face with a laugh, “I wonder if he meant you,”
“Probably,” Eddie replied cheekily, smiling at the fact Steve was holding both of his hands, still.
“So…what are we?” Eddie asked quietly, a little nervous still.
Summary: Billy Hargrove isn’t supposed to notice you.
You’re the quiet girl in the back of class — all soft sweaters, shy eyes, and carefully folded edges — the kind of girl he only bothers with when he’s bored or looking for someone to fluster. And at first, that’s exactly what you are to him: a distraction. A game. Something pretty to poke at.
But then he gives you a nickname — Bambi — and it sticks in places it shouldn’t.
What starts as teasing turns into something hungrier, something he can’t shake, and suddenly Billy’s hovering too close in the hallway, showing up where he shouldn’t be, and driving you home like it’s the most natural thing in the world. You shouldn’t want any of it, especially when he keeps pushing, pulling, and cutting you with the same hands that hold you steady.
You know better than to fall for a boy who breaks everything he touches.
He knows better than to want someone as gentle as you.
But Hawkins is small, secrets are loud, and somewhere between the library’s quiet corners and the rumble of his Camaro, the two of you set off a slow, dangerous collision — one made of sharp words, soft moments, and the kind of longing that hurts to look at straight on.
Because the trouble with Bambi…
is that Billy Hargrove was never meant to care.
And now he does.
Warnings: Teenage Angst, Slow-to-Mid Burn, Cliché, Flirtation and Sexual Tension
Masterlist | Stranger Things Masterlist
Chapter 1: Bambi's Game
Shy and careful, you’ve never been the type of girl who stands out — until Billy Hargrove, the cocky heartbreaker of Hawkins High, notices you. After a fleeting encounter at a party, his obsession with you becomes personal, and suddenly you’re caught in a dangerous game of push and pull.
Chapter 2: You Didn't Say No
As doubts mount, you find yourself reluctantly pulled into Billy Hargrove’s orbit after he volunteers you both for a class project. Despite every instinct telling you to keep your distance, something about his persistence — and the way he looks at you like he already knows you’ll say yes — begins to chip away at your resolve.
Chapter 3: Something He Didn't Mean To Give Away
What starts as a reluctant study session in the Hawkins Public Library turns unexpectedly intimate when the quiet between you begins to shift, charged with looks that last too long and silences that say too much. By the end of the night, you're not sure what just happened — only that something did, and it’s already taking up more space than it should.
Chapter 4: Not When It's You
You tell yourself it doesn’t matter — that whatever’s happening between you and Billy Hargrove is nothing. But Billy is determined to find new ways to get under your skin and you’re finding that the line between irritation and attraction starts to blur.
whatdo you think abou tthe y/n hate trend thing on tt?
I mean, people can do what they want.
It's just yet another way to disrespect people who write 'y/n' fanfiction.
All fanfiction is shit on, but 'y/n' fanfiction is shit on the most.
𓊆 𝓢𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 𓊇 ghostface–the notorious killer breaks in and he has only one goal–to leave you in a pool of your own blood. good thing your boyfriend's there for you!
𝓒𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 .ᐟ set during scream 1996 ◞ loosely based off of the scene where stu breaks into sidney's house ◞ attempted physical violence ◞ home invasion/break-in ◞ threat of murder/threatening phone calls (usual ghostface things) ◞ chasing ◞ crying + emotional tension ◞ yandere(?) billy loomis themes ◞ stu macher is ghostface ✦ ♯
"No, yeah. I know ..I wish I could go, but my parents said no–plus they have my location, they'll know if I left." You sighed, adjusting your phone against your ear as you popped a piece of popcorn into your mouth, the movie in front of you catching your attention for a split moment before Tatum's voice brought you back.
"Oh whatever..you're such a goody goody–This kid's parents has beer y'know?" She spoke, and you could practically imagine her twisting her hair around her finger, admiring herself in her outfit.
"Drunk and vulnerable teenagers at a party with a killer on the loose. Nice job, Tate. Besides, you don't think Stu would be mad your going to a party with loads of guys?" You replied, shoving another handful of the perfectly popped buttery goodness in your lap.
"Oh please, he bailed on me last minute..he won't care. It'll be fine–listen, my rides here so I'm gonna go..call you later."
Then the line went dead. Or it did–for just a second before the phone was ringing once again.
"Gosh, Tatum." You murmured under your breath, wiping your fingers on your pants before grabbing the phone once again.
"Hey, I thought your ride was here? Or did you finally realize I'm much better than a party?"
"Don't like parties that much, huh?" A voice responded, deep and gravely, but too artificial to be real. Definitely not Tatum.
You swallowed hard, uncrossing your legs before setting your bowl of popcorn aside.
"I'm sorry who is this?"
"You tell me your name I'll tell you mine."
"Excuse me?" You replied, looking around like it was second nature. Whatever, it was just a stupid prank call.
"Why won't you talk to me? I just want to play a game..not a party one–I promise." He laughed, the noise only furthering your now uncomfortable state.
"...Well I'm not in the mood for games.." Your voice shook with each word, the fear in it obvious. So obvious it was laughable apparently–since that's what he was doing now.
"Listen, don't call this number again okay you creep!–"
"Hang up the phone and I'll slice your insides up!"
Your heart felt stuck in your throat as you slammed the phone back down, trying your hardest to ignore the anonymous threat echoing in your head as you instantly started dialing your boyfriend's number. It was subconscious instinct. He'll make you feel better, assure you it's ...just some dumb kid thinking the killings were funny and decided to prank call people...yeah, that's it.
"Billy? Billy–hello–" You cut yourself off with a gasp when the alarming noise of your neighbors dog barking caught you off guard, the insistent animal's noise causing your own fear to grow.
"Hey, what's wrong?" Billy spoke, unaware of how tightly you were clutching the phone–wishing it were him instead.
"I think someone's in my house–im scared. Can you ..can you please come–"
A scream left your throat at the sound of a glass vase in your kitchen hitting the floor, shattering into millions of itty bitty pieces, and it only fueled your thought to get the hell of there.
"What was that in the kitchen–are you okay?"
"Billy, billy please just come over now–someone's here–" You whispered, turning the sound of the television up so he couldn't hear you. Unfortunately, you didn't think it could go the other way around.
The TV muffled the sound of his footsteps, slowly creeping up on your shaking form on the couch. A predator stalking it's pray before–a blood curdling scream escaped you, and the phone fell out your hands as you tried to fight back the masked man on top of you, the knife in his hand glinting in the light.
"Billy–Billy can you hear m–" You yelled, the utter fear in your voice only fueling your attacker. You actively used your feet to try and shake his balance, kicking and thrashing around before finally getting in one good hit to the groin. He doubled over for a moment, giving you enough time to run for the door. The locked door.
You barely get an opportunity to begin to fumble with the chain lock before you hear loud footsteps trailing behind you once again, leaving you to abandon the front door and dart for the stairs.
"Help me!!! Hello!" You screamed, banging on the windows you passed by up the stairs, but your attempts were futile. It was late and your neighborhood had long fell asleep. Little did they know they were missing out on your murder attempt.
You could hear those familiar heavy boots stomping against the wooden stairs, louder and louder with each step, less and less time for you to escape. You dashed towards your bedroom, just about to close the door before–"Oh my god!"
His hand wedges itself between the wall and the door, his knife stabbing at the air like a maniac. You stand there, pressed against the door to keep it closed before you pause–just for a moment–and then slightly open the door just to slam it back down on his hand. Over and over until he backed up and you could finally close the door.
Except now he was angrier, slamming his fists on the door, splintering the wood with his knife–
The noise grew louder and louder, and you slowly backed into the corner, hiding beside your bed like a child until suddenly another noise caught your attention.
You peered out the window from where you sat, almost screaming once again when you saw someone's–No, Billy's–foot land on your floor.
"What's going on? Your front door was locked, I heard screaming." He started, immediately making his way over to you.
"The killer. He's there!" You whispered, instantly leaping into his arms, burying your face into the crook of his neck. All the previous adrenaline running through you began to die down, and the backed up tears that had been edging your water line finally burst.
"Billy, he was right–right there." You hiccuped, looking back at your door which now had multiple cuts from the knife, the wood split.
"He's gone now, I'm here.." He replied, gently hushing you as he rubbed soothing circles into your lower back, kissing your forehead simultaneously.
"No. No he was right there." You sniffled, letting yourself cry into his skin after the fear in your body slowly dissipated.
"I'm here now, okay? There's nothing to be afraid of...would you want me to go check outside, hm? Would that make you feel better?"
"No." You blurted out, clutching onto him tighter. "No, don't leave me..you can't."
He let out a long sigh, not as if it were a burden but something he wanted–expected.
"I'll stay."
And he did. He stayed with you until you fell asleep in his arms, completely exhausted and cried out. Vulnerable and unconscious in his arms. But he knew better than that. Besides he was your boyfriend he wouldn't try anything dirty. At least not in that way.
He carefully scooped you up before laying you down in your bed, tucking you in and sliding a pillow between your arms. Just in case.
After taking care of you he grabbed his cell phone, instantly making a call–but not before walking over to the corner of your room.
Silence...and then–
"Are you out of your fucking mind?"
Laughter bubbled from the other side of the phone, a light hearted voice coming through.
"Oh come on, I thought she'd die–who knew she had that much fight in her? Fiesty! You think one day you and I could both share–"
"Don't finish that sentence, Stu."
"Sorry, my king." Stu snorted, the sound of his bed creaking as he rolled over echoing through.
"Don't pull this shit again, dick rag. It wasn't the plan."
Before Stu could reply he tucked his phone into his pocket, the edge of his palms rubbing his eyes as if trying to wipe away the stress from his features.
He slowly walked back to where you laid in your bed, crawling in beside you, careful to not wake you up.
"I'm sorry." He murmured, kissing the edge of your eyebrow. Again and again.
"Stu–stu just fucked it up. It wasn't supposed to be you.." he whispered, pulling you in closer to his chest, his heart beating slowly..
"He–he does that shit again–I'll kill the bastard myself."
He felt himself getting all riled up, the thought of you leaving him forever impacting his psyche more than he'd like to admit. I mean you were the only real thing he wanted to protect–the only thing that reminded him good still existed when people like Maureen and Sidney Prescott still walked the earth. In the end you were the only thing that mattered. Stu was the fault guy–and everyone else? Dead. But you? You were alive. His saving grace. His angel. And anyone who got in the way with it would meet his knife.
"I'll kill him .." he repeated, kissing down your cheek.
The first time she had heard it, she had been in the bathroom, enjoying the hot bathtub that was delicately scented with the lavender salt she’d used.
A loud, crashing of metal followed by a string of cursing.
She hadn’t thought much of it, having been quite taken with her bath at the time, but in the morning, she had been walking around with a bin bag to put in the outside garbage, when she noticed that the shared bins had been knocked over.
“Great,” she sighed, grunting as she then set about lifting all of the garbage cans up; pulling a face as she then carefully put the fallen trash back into the respective bins.
“Gross,” she mumbled, looking at the state of her hands when she had gotten back to her apartment, a good scrubbing soon commenced.
The second time the bins had been knocked over, she had, once again, been trying to enjoy her bathtime and as a seal-hybrid, it was very important that she could have some water time.
Pushing herself out of the nice, warm water, she grabbed her towel, wrapping it around herself as she stormed over to her little balcony where she was currently trying to grow little tomatoes and leaned over the railing, squinting into the darkness as she tried to see what had knocked the bins over again.
The cold air brushed against her wet skin and she quickly shut the door, grumbling to herself about how she wasn’t going to fix the bins the next day; another resident could do it.
She ended up picking them up the next morning, regardless of how annoyed she was feeling.
The third time, once again, at bathtime, she heard the bins being knocked over, but this time she was ready having put off her bath just so she could stand by her balcony to try and catch the person doing this.
She narrowed her eyes as she saw a tall man stumbling over his own feet, his body falling to the side and onto the bins, causing them to crash onto the floor.
“Do you have any idea what the time is?!” she called out angrily and watched the startled man look up at her, confused.
“I-I’m sorry,” he stuttered, eyes wide and she could see that he was somewhat terrified, but what of, she didn’t know, “I didn’t…mean to,” he shook his head as if to try and clear his thoughts.
“You better pick those bins up, I am fed up with doing it!” she pointed out, arms now crossed over the railing, her eyes trained on him with annoyance.
He stared at her for a while before he hurried to pick up the garbage cans.
“Thank you,” she offered him a brief smile before quickly going back inside and rushing to her bathtub, ready for her favourite time of the day.
“You found your phantom bin kicker then?” the voice of her best friend, Minji made her squint, too loud for her ears, she made sure to turn the volume down on her phone as she set it on the counter, speaker phone activated so she could sort out her kitchen.
“Yeah, it was this guy,” she replied with a distracted tone, hands currently trying to sort out her cupboards, “clumsy idiot looked so scared,” she laughed a bit, nose feeling quite assaulted by the spices she wasn’t using and she quickly put them in the food recycling.
“I’m not surprised,” Minji giggled, “getting yelled at by a seal,” she snorted and even though Minji couldn’t see, she still pulled an unimpressed face at the phone.
“Shut up,” she responded, “he didn’t even offer an explanation for the past times either, like, why are you knocking bins over every night?!” she whined, tossing out an old lettuce and setting about cleaning the fridge drawer.
“Maybe he’s a drunk?” Minji suggested, her voice then becoming a little quiet as she moved away from the phone, clearly distracted by something, before she came back, “or he could be a fox hybrid?” she suggested.
This made her pause, “I didn’t think fox hybrids were a thing anymore?” she frowned, thinking back to when she was in school, getting taught about the horrific trading and hunting of them.
“Well, I’m just suggesting things and fox hybrids do love to go for the garbage…well did enjoy the garbage,” Minji corrected herself, “could be a badger or raccoon hybrid,” Minji added and this made her laugh.
“Are we just going to list all the bin-loving hybrids?” she grinned, cleaning another shelf of her fridge.
Minji started laughing.
Y/N sighed happily as she stretched her legs out in her tub, thankful that she had saved up for such a luxury of a big tub; her shoulders under the warmth, scent of lavender surrounding her again.
“Danmi, play Howl’s Moving Castle soundtrack,” she smiled when her little robot music player, started beeping and booping before finally playing the soundtrack.
She was then immediately startled out of her relaxed state by none other than the sound of bins falling again.
“You have to be kidding me!” she hissed and jumped out of the bath, sending water all over the floor but she was too annoyed to care; her hand tightly holding her towel around her body as she once again found herself standing on her tiny balcony, glaring at the man who was still on the floor at this point.
“Excuse me!” she called out, her eyes watching him as he struggled to get to his feet, “are you alright?” she asked when she noticed his small limp, her anger fading instantly and replaced with worry.
The man, surprised by the worry in her voice, looked back down at the ground.
“Stay right there, I need to put some clothes on, I’ll be right down!” she shouted and dashed to her wardrobe, throwing on a giant shirt and baggy pyjama pants; her feet finding her slip ons and she hurried down the steps.
When she managed to get around the back of her apartment building, she was happy to see that he was still there, albeit, now on the floor with his legs stretched out like a little boy.
“Are you alright?” she asked gently, approaching him slowly in case he was skittish.
“I twisted my ankle,” he replied quietly, his shaggy hair falling into his eyes, “that’s all,”
She felt a strange tug at her heart at the way he sounded so defeated.
“Probably didn’t help, hitting the bins,” she was now kneeling in front of him, the wet ends of her hair dripping onto the frost bitten concrete, “why do you keep doing that?” she asked unable to stop herself and she watched his eyes widen slightly, a blush appearing on his face as he tried to explain himself.
“My…hybrid has only just…” he paused as he tried to think of the right word, “awakened,” he didn’t look confident in the choice of word, but Y/N nodded at him, so he assumed it was the correct one to use.
“Ah,” she nodded in understanding, “you’re having a body fight with your hybrid, right?” she watched him nod and she felt like laughing at how worried and miserable this man looked but stopped herself.
“You know every hybrid goes through this, right?” she asked and shivered a bit when the wind picked up, catching his eye slightly, “I struggled when my hybrid woke up,” she chose to go with his phrasing, to give him more comfort and he smiled a bit.
“What are you…if you don’t mind me asking?” he asked, hands rubbing at his sore ankle.
“I’m a Seal,” she smiled, “I struggled a lot when my hybrid woke up, they were obsessed with water and wanting to eat fish,” she made a face, “which is difficult to do when you are in fact, a vegetarian,” she grinned when the man laughed.
“I couldn’t go more than three hours without being in water,” she shook her head, “but I trained myself to only have the normal amount of baths, like I did before my hybrid made themselves known,” she rubbed at her arms to warm herself up, “it took forever to train myself to have normal bathtimes again and I managed to completely get rid of the urge to eat fish,” she chuckled.
The man nodded with a smile.
“Well, I’m a Stag,” he explained, his warm eyes searching her face, feeling a little more confident, “and for some reason, he doesn’t understand that I use two legs,” he sighed, “the random kicks and sprinting, really come out of nowhere, but it seems to always be around here or the next building that it happens to most but I need to come down here to get to my own home,” his whine made her giggle, finding him quite adorable with the pout on his lips.
“Can you stand?” she suddenly asked, and he look to her, as she got to her feet, with a tilt of his head.
“Um, yeah,” he winced as he used the wall of the building to help himself up, “why?”
“I’m freezing my bits off out here,” she stated with a laugh and his face brightened with a laugh, blush on his cheeks at her words, “I have a heat pad that you can use for your foot and I’m sure you’d like some cup-a-soup,” she held out her hand to him, “I’m Y/N, by the way,”
His large hand gently held hers as his eyes searched her face, “Joshua,”
“You invited a stranger to your apartment?!” Minji wanted to grab Y/N by the shoulders and shake her at how dangerous that was, “are you crazy?!”
“Relax,” Y/N replied, laughing at how wide her friends’ eyes got, “he was struggling,” she sighed before thanking the waiter when he put both of their hot drinks on the table in front of them.
“Y/N, he could have hurt you,” Minji explained, lips flinching at the hot chocolate.
“I promise you,” Y/N started, “I wouldn’t have suggested for him to come back to my apartment, if I thought he was a threat,” she calmly explained, “he was hurt and we had a cup-a-soup,” she took a sip of her drink, enjoying the slight burn.
“Okay,” Minji ignored the worry in her chest, “I’m just trusting that you are being safe,” she brushed her long hair out of her face with a small huff.
“I am,” she smiled at her friend.
There was a small comfortable silence as they both enjoyed their drinks, the chatter of the other people in the café, background noise for them.
“So, was he cute?” Minji enquired with an arched eyebrow, lips pulled into a sly expression.
“Oh my god,”
It soon became a little routine for Y/N to find Joshua outside the apartment building around her normal bathtime; she would wave at him and use a string to lower a hot drink to him, which he would thank her for and in the morning, she would find the cup on her doorstep with a small post it note, sometimes with ‘Thank You’ written there or a crude smiley face.
She didn’t quite understand why she felt so drawn to Joshua, but he was just so gentle, despite his affinity for crashing into bins whenever his hybrid got out of control.
He was caring and checked in on her, made sure to be ready in case she wanted to suddenly use his bathroom for water; even making sure to by some lavender scented candles as he became aware of how much she and the rest of the seal-hybrids, loved that particular scent.
“I found somebody who is helping me train my hybrid,” Joshua grinned, his handsome face appearing into her view when she turned around, her heart leaping in her chest at how close he was.
“H-huh?” she had only been awake for about three hours; her brain had yet to kick in.
“I found a hybrid trainer,” he explained again, his lips pulling into another smile at how dazed she looked, “I’m working on how to stop suddenly losing control of my own legs,” he patted his strong thighs and Y/N refused to follow the action.
“That’s so great, Shua,” she smiled as the two of them crossed the road, Joshua coming to the side where cars were idling, making her smile how old school it was for a man to do such a thing; not that she was annoyed, she was more flustered than anything.
“It really is, and the trainer is nice too,” he said in a relieved manner, “maybe a little too hyper,” he commented, making her laugh out loud at his strange facial expression.
“I’m just glad they’re helping you,” she replied honestly and squeaked when Joshua playfully nudged her, “hey!”
“Just trying to wake you up,” he said in a sing-song type of voice, “where are we going?” he asked as if only now realising that there was a destination to the walk they were taking.
“I thought maybe the park would be a nice idea,” she smiled up at him as he pulled his light brown coat tighter to his body, his hair pushed back from his face; she had to try and look away before she lost herself.
“It’s going to be snowing soon,” Joshua chuckled at her, his hands sorting his black scarf slightly, “are you sure the park is a good idea?” he looked her over to make sure she was dressed warmly.
She was, a large black coat with a hood, black gloves and a neon green scarf covered her.
“I am a seal,” she pointed out, “I only dress this way to stop people from staring because I usually just walk around in shirts,” she pointed out and Joshua nodded when he thought back to the night, she came running down to meet him.
“So…you have blubber?” he asked curiously and couldn’t help but laugh at how red her face got, and she quickly slapped his arm.
“Shut up!” she squealed, “I just have thicker skin,” she mumbled, “stop laughing!”
The park was empty, frost clinging to the blades of grass and the bench that she beelined for; her hands searching through her backpack for a second before pulling out two blankets, one to sit on and the other to have on her lap.
“Thought you didn’t feel the cold?” Joshua asked smugly and she pouted at him, his body sitting beside hers.
“Shoosh,” she playfully smiled at him, hands then pulling out a flask, two cups and some homemade egg-cress sandwiches
“Here you go,” she said gently as she carefully poured the minestrone soup into one of the cups, handing it to him, “it’s really hot, so be careful,”
Joshua nodded and blew over the soup before taking a sip, a small moan leaving him as he felt the warmth return to his toes.
“This is good,” he grinned.
Y/N decided to stay quiet as she was still focused on the moan he’d let out, the tips of her ears burning as she took a small bite out of her sandwich.
She made sure to put the blanket across his lap as well, her eyes meeting his briefly as she did so and her heart jumped into her throat.
“Thanks,” he whispered, his own face feeling quite hot.
“S-sure,” she mumbled and returned to her sandwich, staring down at it harshly,
“You wanna hear something kind of funny?” Joshua asked, sipping more of the warm soup as he watched a few ducks waddle towards the partially frozen pond.
Y/N replied by looking up at him.
“Minji told me to be careful,” he shook his head a bit and Y/N tilted hers in confusion.
“Huh?” she exclaimed, sitting up straight.
“You know the ‘you hurt her, and I’ll kill you’ chats that people in movies have?” he asked, and she nodded, “Minji sort of did that to me; about you,”
Y/N swore her face was on fire as she silently cursed Minji out in her mind.
“I’m so sorry, I don’t know what is wrong with her,” she sighed, eyes nervously meeting his.
Joshua just laughed at the panic.
“No, it was cute,” he snickered, “she loves you so much,” he smiled, hands cupping the soup more as he felt his fingers becoming a little numb, “I was just surprised because she keeps talking to me like we’re dating,”
Y/N wanted to look away from him, but his chocolate brown eyes just held her gaze.
“She’s seeing things,” she replied quickly, watching as Joshua’s eyebrows raised in interest.
“Oh?” he licked his lips, “I was thinking she’s onto something,” he looked back at the ducks, leg crossing over his other one and sipping at the soup once more, his free arm coming to rest on the back of the bench, right behind her.
“What do you mean?” Y/N swallowed thickly, sandwich forgotten in her hands.
Joshua met her eyes for a while; his chest rising and falling as he sighed heavily.
“Nothing,”
Minji was entertained, more than she would ever admit, when Y/N had burst into her office with a look of panic and disbelief.
“Why would you say that to him?!” Y/N waved her hands about and pathetically whine when she fell onto the spare chair, she practically star fished on the chair.
“Ah, had your morning stroll with Joshua today, then?” Minji smirked, fingers hovering over her keyboard still from the interruption, “how was the gentleman?” she added teasingly as that was the word Y/N had been using to describe Joshua for several weeks now, not even realising how soft her voice got when talking about him.
“Minji!” Y/N rubbed at her face, “how am I supposed to face him now that he suspects something!” she used her legs to lazily pull herself close to the aquarium sitting on the large cabinet.
“Oh please,” Minji rolled her eyes at the silly display her friend was giving, “even if he does, surely you see the way he looks at you?” she smiled before frowning when she was met with a confused Y/N.
“Oh, you really don’t know, do you?” Minji chuckled softly.
“What are you talking about?” Y/N asked feeling somewhat annoyed.
“Y/n,” Minji grinned, “you do realise that Joshua is completely in love with you, don’t you?”
All she could think about, was Joshua as she soaked in her bath, her feet splashing at the water absent mindedly.
Joshua was simply out of her league, too handsome, too kind, too gentle, too caring, too perfect.
She sighed and slipped down under the water, her eyes still open and now watching the water ripple above her head; though she wasn’t nearly as perfect as him, by God, she really wanted him.
He made her feel so good just by being next to her, his entire aura was comfort.
Coming up for air, she pushed her long hair out of her face; knees pulled to her chest as she tried to imagine a world in which Joshua liked her back.
Ever since Minji had told her that he felt something for her, whenever she and Joshua hung out, she was practically surveying his behaviour, looking for obvious signs of romantic feelings.
One particular moment stood out in her mind.
It had been pouring with rain and all she had wanted to do was get the package that he had been left on her doorstep, she was in a towel and as she bent down to get the package, the wind picked up and trapped her towel in the door as it slammed shut, causing her to quickly fall to the floor to try and cover herself more.
She didn’t dare make a noise, terrified somebody would see her like this, she had been there for a little over ten minutes before she heard the familiar noise of the trashcans rattling around on the floor.
“Shua!” she called out, silence followed for a second, “Joshua?!” she pulled her towel tighter to her body.
“Y/N?” Joshua’s confused voice answered, “wait, you’re not at your window? Where the hell are you?”
She wanted to laugh at the tone of his voice, but pure panic had already set in.
“By my front door, please, please can you come up here for a moment?”
She could hear him climb the stairs quickly, clearly sensing the worry in her voice and her eyes met his as he dashed over to her.
“My towel got caught in the door, I was just picking this stupid parcel up and oh my god,” she slammed the back of her head against the front door in annoyance, “I can’t move,” she whispered, red in the face as Joshua tried to keep his eyes on her face.
“Hey!” he interrupted her panic and removed his long coat, helping her to put it on and then surrounded her with his body so that she could button it up safely without anybody being able to see her body.
She felt her breath hitch when he practically formed a protective barrier with his own body, her eyes watching as his strong body was outlined nicely by his work shirt.
“You all good?” he asked, his vision staying on her front door, a light hue on his cheeks, trying to stop herself from thinking about her naked body inside of his coat.
“Y-yeah,” she replied shyly.
“Oh,” she looked at him confused when she stood up, his eyes taking in the image of her in his coat, “you look adorable,” he chuckled and her large seal eyes fell to the floor, her cheeks still red from embarrassment, the entire situation replaying in her mind.
“You shoosh,” she pointed at him and sighed heavily, “I have to go to the apartment manager now,” she whined, “he’s such an annoying man,” she pouted making Joshua laugh, “would you…come with me?” she asked, knowing that she would feel much safer with him there, considering she was naked under the coat and everything
That was how Joshua ended up staying another four hours at her apartment, the two of them just chatting and swapping stories, learning about each other’s hybrid mannerisms and laughing at how silly they could be.
As he went to leave, he paused, eyes meeting hers for a moment before pulling her into a comforting hug.
They had cuddled before, but this felt so different from the other times, more intimate.
It was all she could think about for next couple of days, her coworkers whispering at her strange behaviour at work.
“Y/N!”
She turned on her heel when she heard his voice; he was running towards her with his gorgeous brown hair waving around making her want to run her fingers through it.
“Hey, Shua,” she smiled up at him, most of her face shyly hiding behind her neon green scarf.
“Here, got you a grilled cheese,” he handed her a hot packet, her heart aching a little.
“Thank you, how much was it?” she buried her hand in her pocket, ready to give him the money but he shook his head with wide eyes.
“Let me buy you something,” Joshua teased, elbowing her playfully, “plus I was already getting myself this hot onigiri,” he showed her with a little excitement, “I’ve never even heard of a hot onigiri before,”
She simply didn’t hear whatever else he was talking about, her eyes too busy for her ears to be working.
Joshua paused in his ramblings once he realised that she hadn’t been talking for quite a while, a soft smile appearing on his face when he saw how she was clearly in a daydream.
He tucked her hair behind her ear and sighed quietly.
“You’re so beautiful,” he chuckled, his thumb stroking against her cheek, his hands then moving back to his lap.
Y/N took a moment before his words finally caught up with her and the food she had been holding, slipped from her hand in shock.
“What, wait?!” she blinked owlishly at him, her cute little seal noises slipping past her lips in her heightened emotional state.
Joshua laughed at her noises, his cheeks dusted a little pink.
“You’re beautiful,” he mumbled, slightly more unconfident now that she wasn’t daydreaming, “Listen…I’m not expecting anything,” he licked at his lips, both of them now at a full stop in their walk, “I just had to say something,” his tail wiggled slightly in worry that he had read her wrong as she just stared at him.
“I feel like I’m short-circuiting,” she announced suddenly, her hands grabbing at Joshua’s jacket shyly, “I think you’re handsome,” she whispered, her lips still twitching as her seal ‘uffs’ were leaving her quietly.
He smiled down at her, his hands gently holding around her lower back, “yeah?” he grinned, eyes boring into hers, “you think I’m handsome?”
She snorted at his fishing for compliments and swatted at his chest as her hair hid her blushing face.
“You think this handsome man could kiss you?” he flirted, the Stag side to him proud as punch at the development of their relationship, “please,” he added and she nodded at him desperately.
“Kiss me, Shua,” she grinned, a giggle following before she gasped loudly as Joshua leaned down quickly and captured her lips in a passionate kiss, one of his large hands moving to cup the back of her neck.
She could hear her own little ‘uffs’ leaving her in between their kissing and she blushed at her noises.
“I’m sorry, I can’t…my noises,” she stuttered, hand covering her mouth.
Joshua rolled his eyes, not bothered by it at all, in fact rather endeared to it and he pulled her hand away, his Stag smirking beneath his skin.
“I couldn’t care less about your noises,” he chuckled, his nose flirtatiously nudging hers, “Y/N, I just want to kiss you,” he admitted rather breathlessly, watching her eyes widen and her cheeks become a darker shade of red.
“O-oh, you ca-“ she squeaked when his lips returned to hers in a hurry, his passion nearly making her knees give way but he held her lower back, his other hand on her upper back, cradling her to his body.
She was in heaven right now.
“I adore you,” Joshua panted when he eventually pulled away from her, his eyes shining as he took in her dishevelled appearance, her lips swollen and her breath ragged and stuttering as it left her.
“As long as you don’t knock my bins over anymore, you have me,” she teased, giggling when he let out a whine, his lips curling into a smirk as he then recaptured her mouth.
One thing was for sure, Minji was going to scream down the phone at her later on.
Summary: When you're dragged to an underground party by your best friend, the last thing you expect is to be thrown into a game of Seven Minutes in Heaven — especially not with Jeon Jungkook, the brooding, sharp-tongued heartbreaker with a reputation that precedes him. You barely know him. He barely looks at anyone. But behind that locked door, time slows down, sparks fly, and he's done for. You're sure he'll forget you. He does. But now he’s on a mission to figure out who “Closet Girl” is — and your friends are doing everything they can to mess with him while keeping your identity secret.
genre: University AU | strangers to lovers (sort of)
warnings: flirting, mild romantic tension, social anxiety, embarrassment, minor illness, playful pranks, friendly manipulation, study stress, mild language, sarcastic banter, JK being so whipped, slow-burn romance, light comedy/drama, no serious harm
WC: 18k words
a/n: tumblr wouldn’t let me post it unless I split it into two parts…t’was too long…enjoy
Campus is buzzing. Not the usual hum of sleep-deprived students dragging themselves to class, but the kind of chaotic energy that only comes around when the weekend stretches ahead, warm and wide open.
The quad is drenched in golden late-afternoon sunlight, and the air smells like grass, iced coffee, and the subtle hint of sweat from people pretending they aren’t trying to look hot in 85-degree heat.
You’re weaving between bodies, textbooks tucked under your arm, when it catches your eye: a bright neon flier taped to nearly every lamppost, tree, and bulletin board in sight.
SINS & SAINTS
BIGGEST PARTY OF THE SEMESTER — 10PM @ THE PIT
SEVEN MINUTES IN HEAVEN GAME 🔥 DON’T BE LAME
Yanni snatches one off a pole as you pass. “This is the moment, ladies.”
You don’t even give the flyer a second glance. “What moment? The one where you both fail your ethics paper because you were too busy shotgunning White Claws in someone’s moldy basement?”
“Oh my god, relax,” Jenna says, laughing. “It’s not moldy. They fixed the leak in April.”
You roll your eyes but let yourself smile as the three of you walk along the sidewalk, the late sun casting long shadows across the pavement. Yanni and Jenna look like they just stepped out of an Urban Outfitters ad — crop tops, layered jewelry, and enough confidence to set fire to half the student population.
And then there’s you. Not quite invisible, but definitely more “background character” than “main event.”
“You know this party’s gonna be huge, right?” Yanni says, waving the flier like it’s a golden ticket. “Last year someone jumped off the roof into the kiddie pool.”
“And broke their collarbone,” you point out.
“Legendary,” Jenna says, smirking.
You snatch the flier from Yanni’s hand, skimming it again. “Why would anyone voluntarily go to something with a ‘Seven Minutes in Heaven’ game advertised like a feature? We’re adults.”
“Are we?” Yanni asks, eyes twinkling.
“Technically,” Jenna adds. “But also—imagine the chaos. What if someone pulls Jungkook’s name?”
Your heart does a completely unacceptable little stutter at that.
Jeon Jungkook.
Tattooed, mysterious, chronically late to lectures (if he shows up at all), and very much the guy every girl on campus either wants to date, make out with, or get over. He’s got a motorcycle. He barely talks. He shows up to parties, hooks up with girls, then disappears like smoke.
And he’s beautiful. Obviously.
You’re not immune. You’ve had a crush on him since last semester, when he walked into your shared Intro to Media class twenty minutes late, helmet under his arm, chewing gum like he wasn’t the reason every girl in the room forgot what the professor was saying.
But Jungkook is a walking red flag. A whole carnival of them. And you’re smarter than that.
At least, you pretend to be.
“Literally everyone wants him,” Jenna says, reading your mind. “Even the TA from psych. She was full-on blushing when he asked for an extension.”
“Not surprised,” Yanni mutters. “He has that look — like he’s good at everything and knows it.”
“He probably is,” you say before you can stop yourself, then immediately regret it.
Your friends both stare at you, smirking like sharks.
“Wait,” Jenna says slowly, “do you have a thing for Jungkook?”
“No.” You say it too quickly. “God, no. I mean—everyone does. But I’m not stupid.”
“Just stupid-adjacent,” Yanni teases.
“Shut up.”
Before they can press you further, a familiar voice cuts through the noise.
“Well, well, well. Look who we have here.”
You look up to see Park Jimin approaching, all sunshine and mischief, with Kim Taehyung sauntering behind him like he owns the sidewalk.
Jimin’s wearing a denim jacket over a mesh tank, and Taehyung’s got sunglasses on even though the sun’s nearly down. Between the two of them, they look like trouble you want to get into.
“Hey, ladies,” Jimin says, flashing a grin as he throws an arm over Yanni’s shoulders. “You’re coming to the party tonight, right?”
“Obviously,” Yanni replies, leaning into the attention.
“Can’t miss the annual disaster,” Jenna adds, high-fiving Taehyung like they’re in on some secret joke.
You cross your arms. “You guys seriously hyping up a party where people get locked in closets like it’s summer camp?”
“It’s not just any party,” Jimin says. “It’s The Pit. Sins & Saints theme. Black lights. Fake angel wings. Maybe some fake confessions.”
“Cages,” Taehyung adds casually, like that’s normal.
You blink. “Cages? What kind of party is this?”
“The fun kind,” Jimin winks. “You coming, Y/N?”
“I have an essay due.”
“So bring it with you. I’ll give you moral support while you drink tequila.”
“Tempting,” you say, deadpan. “But I actually want to pass this semester.”
Taehyung leans in, smirking. “Well, in case you change your mind… Jungkook’s gonna be there.”
There it is again. The name. The spark that lights your nerves like a match to gasoline.
You try to play it cool. “Why would that matter to me?”
Yanni coughs loudly. Jenna bites her lip to keep from laughing.
Jimin just grins, already turning away. “No reason. See you at ten.”
And with that, the two boys melt back into the crowd, leaving you with your friends, your unfinished essay, and the creeping sense that this night might not go according to plan.
The quad’s stretched out like a painting, glowing and slow, the heat bleeding off the pavement in soft waves. Everything’s dipped in gold — the trees, the brick buildings, even the stupid neon flyers plastered to every pole.
The bench — their bench — is right where it always is, half in shade, half in sun, like it can’t decide whether it wants to be chill or dramatic. Typical.
Jungkook drops down into his usual spot on the backrest, boots braced on the seat like he owns it. He probably does, at this point — nobody ever sits there unless one of them’s already claimed it.
Taehyung arrives next, flopping into the grass with a sigh so theatrical it could win awards.
“Dying,” he declares. “Melting. This is my final form.”
Jimin shows up with a popsicle he definitely didn’t pay for. “It’s like 85. You’re from Daegu, you’ve survived worse.”
“I have delicate lungs now,” Taehyung replies. “I’m an artist.”
“Your lung capacity’s fine, bro,” Jungkook says. “You were yelling at Rocket League until three.”
Taehyung scowls but doesn’t argue.
A group of girls walks by — upperclassmen, probably — and Jungkook doesn’t miss the way they glance over, not subtle at all. One of them straightens her hair in her reflection on a car window.
He ignores it. Sips his drink. Lets the sun warm his tattoos.
“Party’s gonna be insane tonight,” Jimin says through a mouthful of cherry ice. “Everyone’s going.”
“You say that like you’re not part of the chaos,” Jungkook mutters.
“I am the chaos.”
Jungkook smirks. “You’re five feet of glitter and bad decisions.”
“I’m five-nine,” Jimin says automatically.
“You’re lying.”
“Anyway,” Taehyung cuts in, flopping back so his head hits the grass with a dull thump, “I heard there’s gonna be like… cages. Real ones. Hanging from the ceiling.”
“Where the hell are they getting cages?” Jungkook asks.
“Probably the theater department,” Jimin says. “They owe me after I fixed their soundboard last semester.”
Jungkook makes a face. “You fixed it by slapping it until it stopped buzzing.”
“And it worked.”
They lapse into a comfortable silence for a bit — the kind only friends with a lot of shared damage can fall into. People keep walking past, all heading somewhere, all talking too loud, dressed like they're auditioning for the same indie film.
A guy on a skateboard nearly eats it trying to check his reflection in the library windows. A girl in a baby tee trips on absolutely nothing when she sees Jungkook watching her. Classic.
He doesn’t react. Barely blinks.
“You know,” Taehyung says, eyes still closed, “I was thinking about that Seven Minutes thing.”
“Oh god,” Jungkook mutters.
“No, listen. Imagine someone wild pulls your name. Like that girl who wears fangs and drinks blood out of a Hydro Flask.”
“She’s a performance artist,” Jimin corrects. “You’re so uncultured.”
“Imagine,” Taehyung continues, undeterred, “you walk into the closet and it’s just like—BAM. Straight-up vampire romance. Feral energy. No escape.”
“I’d rather die,” Jungkook says.
“Sounds like fear,” Jimin singsongs.
“It’s common sense,” Jungkook replies. “That game is high school energy. It's gonna be twenty minutes of giggling and some drunk dude falling through the door trying to kiss someone who already regrets being born.”
Jimin snorts. “Wow. Poetic.”
“Look, I’m going,” Jungkook says, “but I’m not doing closet games. Not my scene.”
“You say that,” Taehyung mutters, cracking one eye open, “but if someone hot pulls your name…”
Jungkook shrugs. “Then she’s unlucky.”
And he means it — mostly. It’s just that… parties like this always end the same. Music too loud, drinks too warm, somebody crying in the bathroom, somebody making bad decisions on a lawn chair.
He doesn’t know why he keeps showing up. Maybe he’s bored. Maybe it’s the thrill of it — the crash of noise, the lights, the way nothing matters for a few hours.
Or maybe it's that feeling.
The possibility.
The moment right before something happens — when everything is charged and uncertain, and the right glance could flip the night on its head.
He exhales, eyes flicking toward a passing group of students. One girl — vaguely familiar — walks by clutching a tote bag and a half-melted iced matcha. Her face jogs something in his brain. A lecture hall, maybe? Media Studies?
He thinks he remembers her — quiet. Always early. Never looked at him, not even when he showed up late and took the seat next to the plug.
But it’s gone in a blink. Just another girl. Just another day.
Taehyung claps his hands suddenly, breaking the silence.
“Alright, sluts. Waffle truck or convenience store noodles?”
“Why are those the only options?” Jimin asks.
“Because I’m a man of taste.”
They get up, stretching, moving like they’re already vibrating with pre-party adrenaline. Jungkook trails behind, helmet in one hand, unread messages buzzing in his pocket.
He doesn’t look back.
He doesn’t notice the girl from the quad still sitting under the tree, book open, eyes half-lifted just as he passes.
He doesn't know her name.
Not yet.
The Pit is already pulsing when you arrive.
Bass thumps under your feet before you even step inside — not just music, but vibration, like the building itself is alive and slightly pissed off. The air smells like tequila, cheap perfume, and those weird vanilla vapes everyone insists are “barely noticeable.” Spoiler: they are very noticeable.
You stop just inside the doorway, blinking.
The party is absolutely unhinged.
There are blacklights everywhere — mounted on the rafters, strung across the ceilings, probably duct-taped to questionable surfaces. Someone’s set up an old confessional booth near the far wall, graffitied and backlit in red. A girl in a rhinestone halo is taking selfies in front of it while a guy dressed as a fallen angel — shirt unbuttoned to nowhere — does a keg stand behind her.
Above it all, a massive banner reads:
SINS & SAINTS: ENTER IF YOU DARE.
...which feels both deeply dramatic and deeply accurate.
There are actual cages suspended from the ceiling — only waist-high, like glorified birdcages, but still. One of them has a guy in white mesh pants swinging in it like it’s Cirque du Soleil. He howls something about forgiveness. No one knows what’s going on.
You take all of this in with wide eyes.
“Okay,” you say slowly, “what the hell.”
“I TOLD YOU,” Yanni shouts over the music, eyes lit up like a kid on Halloween. “They WENT OFF this year!”
“They should be arrested,” you mutter.
Jenna laughs beside you, tugging at the hem of her dress. “I feel like I just walked into the end of the world but make it horny.”
Yanni is wearing a sheer black top over a bralette made entirely of tiny silver crosses, her eyeliner winged out to her temples. Her skirt is so short it might be a threat to public safety.
Jenna went full Saint — white silk slip dress, little feathery halo bobbing over her curls, but with Doc Martens that say she’d still throw hands in the bathroom line.
And then there’s you.
You’d protested the theme all afternoon, but eventually gave in. You’re wearing ripped black jeans, a mesh top over a tank, and a red ribbon choker Yanni tied on you with too much enthusiasm. You didn’t go all-out like them, but you’re here. You showed up. That’s saying something.
Yanni loops her arm through yours and yells, “I swear to God, if I don’t end up in a cage by midnight, I’m suing.”
“They have cages, Yanni,” you say, scandalized. “That’s not normal.”
“I’m not normal,” she grins.
“That’s not comforting!”
You’re halfway toward the drink table when a blur of movement passes you — a guy in a leather jacket, dark hair, jaw like a hate crime. You don’t get a good look, just the impression of tattoos, combat boots, and a casual arrogance like he’s got the party rigged in his favor.
You turn back to the drinks.
Jenna, meanwhile, is adjusting her halo in her phone’s camera. “Okay, I’m thinking I make out with someone with wings. That’s my only rule.”
“Are they required to earn them first?” you ask.
“No, they just have to not be annoying.”
“So… no one here, basically,” you deadpan.
Yanni dumps some suspicious jungle juice into a cup and hands it to you. “Drink. Or at least pretend to. You’re giving off ‘I’m only here for field research’ energy.”
You take a sip and grimace. “This tastes like Hawaiian Punch and college debt.”
“Exactly,” Jenna says. “We’re setting the tone.”
You pass by a hallway draped in red curtains — probably where the Seven Minutes game is happening. Someone stumbles out with smeared lipstick and a dazed smile.
“Oh my god,” you say. “This is summer camp. This is hot, humid, horny summer camp.”
Yanni beams. “A dream come true.”
You’re halfway across the room when you bump into someone — solid chest, sharp elbows. You step back, muttering, “Sorry,” but the guy’s already moving, weaving through the crowd like he’s done it a thousand times.
Again, you don’t get a good look.
Again, you feel that flicker — like something important just brushed past you.
“Who was that?” you ask, mostly to yourself.
Jenna squints after him. “I don’t know. Pretty sure he walked out of a Calvin Klein ad though.”
You shake it off.
This night is too much already — too loud, too crowded, too… Jungkook-shaped. And you’re not here for that. You’re here to survive, observe, and possibly rescue your friends from questionable decisions.
So far, you’re one-for-three.
Yanni grabs your arm. “Okay. I’ve spotted three girls from my art class, two guys I ghosted, and a literal priest costume. Where are the drinks that don’t taste like regret?”
“There are none,” you say. “We are the drinks that taste like regret.”
Jenna raises her cup like a toast. “To sinning responsibly.”
“To surviving this chaos,” you mutter, sipping again.
And across the room, under strobing lights and smoke machine haze, Jungkook leans against the wall near the DJ booth, scanning the crowd.
His eyes flick right past you.
Just a blur of black mesh, red ribbon, and glittering annoyance.
He doesn’t even register it.
But something in him shifts — like he knows he’s missing something. Or someone.
He adjusts the cuff of his sleeve, lifts his drink, and watches the crowd move like waves around him.
You’re both here.
You’re both waiting.
You just don’t know it yet.
Jungkook leans against the wall like he’s not trying.
He isn’t.
He’s dressed in all black — ripped jeans, oversized button-down left open over a tank, silver chains catching just enough light to look intentional. His boots are scuffed from the bike ride over, and he hasn't even bothered to fix the strands of hair falling into his eyes.
Still, people look.
People always look.
The Pit is packed. The lights strobe like they’re malfunctioning, bodies moving in all directions, glitter and sweat and wings everywhere. The blacklight catches on teeth, neon paint, the rims of Solo cups. Music throbs like a second heartbeat, drowning out anything that sounds like common sense.
Jungkook watches it all unfold with the calm detachment of someone who’s done this a hundred times.
Which, to be fair, he has.
“Cages,” he mutters, mostly to himself. “Really.”
Taehyung reappears at his side, holding two drinks and no sense of subtlety. “You say that like you’re not impressed.”
“I’m not not impressed,” Jungkook says, eyeing a girl in LED horns who’s currently being hoisted into one of the hanging cages by two frat boys in priest collars. “I’m just wondering if this place passed fire code.”
Jimin sidles up on the other side, chewing gum like a menace. “God, I love when everyone’s desperate and underdressed. The vibe tonight is filthy.”
“It’s not a vibe,” Jungkook says, deadpan. “It’s a liability.”
“You’re just mad because you haven’t been recognized by someone hot yet.”
“I literally got here three minutes ago.”
“That’s three whole minutes too long, lover boy.”
Jungkook rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling faintly.
He scans the room again, letting the visuals wash over him: angel wings, devil horns, fake blood, fake rosaries, someone with a real sword (???), a couple making out aggressively near the “Confess Here” booth. Typical Pit energy, just turned up to eleven.
His gaze passes over a trio near the drink table — glitter, halos, fishnets — then slides away again, uninterested.
Then—
No.
He pauses.
Barely.
There’s a girl in black mesh, red ribbon tight around her throat.
Not the type trying to be seen. Not the type posing or pouting or clinging to someone’s arm. Just… there. Head tilted. Brows drawn. Like she’s trying to make sense of the chaos.
She’s not looking at him.
He doesn’t know why he notices.
Something about the way she holds herself — casual, a little stiff. Like she showed up for the party but didn’t want to. Like she’s in it, but not of it. It’s a detail, but he’s always been good at catching those.
He’s pretty sure he’s seen her before.
Class maybe? One of the early ones, back when he still showed up?
He narrows his eyes. Something tickles the back of his mind — a row of seats, a laptop screen, a girl who never once looked his way even when he was late and loud and trying not to be noticed by a professor.
He’d filed it away as nothing.
And maybe it still is.
He watches her for one more second — how she crinkles her nose at the drink in her hand, how her friend with the silver cross top yells something and throws her head back laughing.
Then someone claps a hand on his shoulder, and the moment breaks.
“Hyung,” a guy shouts over the music — some junior he’s barely talked to — “the Seven Minutes room is right there. You better hope someone sins you into the closet.”
“I’m good,” Jungkook says without missing a beat.
“You sure?” the guy winks. “Heard even the quiet girls are wild tonight.”
Taehyung lets out an ungodly laugh.
Jimin fans himself. “God, I love this place.”
Jungkook exhales slowly and glances back toward the girl in the mesh top, the one he maybe-kinda remembers from Media Studies.
She’s walking away now, swallowed by bodies and wings and fog machine haze.
And just like that, she’s gone again
SINS & SAINTS
10:47 PM — The Pit
You’re halfway through your second regrettable drink — something red and radioactive that tastes like melted cherry Jolly Ranchers and lies — when you realize:
Jenna is gone.
Not lost in the crowd gone. Not hooked up with some guy in a halo gone.
Like, vanished.
You scan the sea of limbs and glitter, the swirling blacklights and wall-to-wall bass drops.
No halo. No white silk dress. No Doc Martens stomping some poor frat guy’s foot for getting handsy.
“Wait,” you say, turning to Yanni. “Where’s Jenna?”
Yanni’s still dancing, holding her drink above her head and vibing to something bass-heavy. She doesn’t hear you.
You poke her side. “Yanni. Where. Is. Jenna.”
She freezes, eyes scanning the room with the same dawning horror you’re feeling.
“Oh my god,” she says, gripping your arm. “She was just here.”
“She was literally next to us two minutes ago.”
“She does this sometimes,” Yanni says, frowning. “Remember Halloween? She disappeared for an hour and came back with a matching tattoo with a guy named Car Battery.”
“That was ONE time,” you groan. “And she still won’t tell us where the tattoo is.”
Yanni downs the rest of her drink like it’s going to give her psychic powers. “Okay, we split up. You check the front half, near the drinks. I’ll do a lap by the DJ booth. Scream if she’s in a cage.”
“Or if you end up in one,” you mutter.
She kisses your cheek and takes off, glitter trailing in her wake.
You push through the crowd, slipping past a group of devils grinding to a slowed-down Britney remix, dodging a couple who are definitely fighting and definitely still holding hands.
You pause near the drink station again, heart thumping a little harder than it should.
Still no Jenna.
Just more suspicious liquids in plastic cups and a guy pouring straight vodka into a Capri Sun.
Then—
“Y/N!”
You whip around just as Yanni reappears, hair a little more disheveled, glitter smudged under one eye like war paint.
“I found her,” she pants, grabbing your hand. “You’re not gonna believe where she is.”
“Dead in a bathtub?”
“No.”
“In a cage?”
“Worse.”
“Yanni—”
“She’s at the Seven Minutes in Heaven room.”
You blink. “You’re lying.”
“I swear on my third ex’s face tattoo.”
You let her drag you toward the back hallway — the one that’s been curtained off with red velvet and glowing like Satan’s waiting room. A line snakes down the corridor, people laughing and hollering and shoving toward a closet door guarded by two dudes in fake pope robes.
You round the corner and — yup.
There’s Jenna.
Sitting on a stool like royalty, halo tilted sideways, red Solo cup in hand, absolutely thriving.
She’s laughing, clapping, cheering as two strangers stumble out of the closet, sweaty and flushed and looking either victorious or traumatized. Probably both.
You stop in your tracks. “She’s a ringmaster.”
“She’s drunk on power,” Yanni adds, mouth open.
Jenna spots you both and waves like you’re long-lost war heroes.
“MY GIRLS!!” she yells. “You made it!!”
“You left us,” you shoot back.
She shrugs like that’s a problem for another timeline. “I was recruited.”
“What does that even mean?”
“They needed a hostess! I’m very charming!”
Yanni sighs. “This is how cults start.”
Before you can pry her off the stool, someone shouts, “NEXT UP!” and the line shoves forward. A girl pulls her own roommate in by the arm, both of them shrieking as the door slams shut behind them.
You look at Jenna. “This is out of control. We’re leaving.”
“Not until you try it!”
“Absolutely not.”
Yanni laughs. “Let’s just grab her and go—”
But the line moves again, someone shoves forward, and suddenly—
Everything goes wrong at once.
Hands. Shouting. Laughter. Some guy yells, “MAKE ROOM!”
You’re trying to yank Jenna off her unofficial throne, still yelling about how this is not how a party should go, when chaos breaks loose.
Someone shoves the line.
A drink spills.
People are yelling.
The couple in front of the closet stumbles out like they’ve just done three laps around a football field.
You try to back away — but too late.
Hands shove you forward. “Next up!”
Yanni screams, “Wait, she’s not playing!”
“I’m not playing!” you yell, too.
Doesn’t matter. The crowd’s already decided.
The closet door swings open.
You get pushed inside — completely alone.
Click.
The door slams shut behind you. Darkness swallows everything.
You stumble, trip over a shoe or someone’s forgotten dignity, and land against the back wall, trying to breathe.
“Oh my god,” you mutter. “Oh my god. I’m gonna die in here. This is it. I’m gonna be found in a party closet.”
You fumble toward the doorknob, already plotting your escape—
And then the door opens again.
A warm body stumbles in, tall and solid and smelling unfairly good — like cedarwood, clean laundry, and a bad idea.
The door slams shut again.
Across the party, Jungkook is just trying to find a bathroom that doesn’t reek of four Loko and sin.
He’s halfway through a hallway that looks suspiciously off-limits when someone calls his name.
“Jeon Jungkook!”
He turns.
It’s some girl he barely knows. She’s got lipstick on her teeth and one shoe in her hand.
“Come ON,” she says, “we need more hot people for the closet game. You’ll save this party. I swear.”
He blinks. “I’m not doing that.”
“Too late!” she says, grabbing his arm with terrifying strength. “Come on, it’ll be funny! You’re hot and mysterious and your face should be illegal.”
“I’m going to sue this entire building,” Jungkook mutters, but the girl is already dragging him.
He doesn’t know why he lets her.
Maybe he’s bored. Maybe he doesn’t care.
Maybe it’s because this party has reached new heights of ridiculous and he needs a story to make it worth the hangover.
They reach the red curtain. The line parts.
You don’t know who you hate more — Jenna for signing a blood pact with the party demons, or the crowd for shoving you into this glorified coat coffin like it’s part of the plan.
You've been in here for maybe a minute. Two tops. But time moves differently when you’re trapped in darkness, breathing the humid remains of other people’s bad decisions.
It’s cramped. It smells like body spray and spilled White Claw. The door has no handle from the inside. And you're about to start monologuing to the ceiling when—
The door opens again.
You freeze. “Wait—”
A guy stumbles in. Tall, broad-shouldered, all dressed in black with just enough chain action to suggest this person owns at least one motorcycle and zero alarm clocks.
You recognize him in an instant — because your subconscious hates you and made sure to memorize that face like it was an exam topic.
Jeon Jungkook.
He doesn’t see you at first. He’s too busy brushing off whoever just shoved him in.
“Okay, okay—Jesus. Don’t break my arm,” he mutters. Then, to the closet, “Sorry, whoever you are. I’m not here voluntarily.”
You don't say anything.
He finally glances your way.
A pause.
“…Huh.”
You cross your arms. “Not who you were expecting?”
“Not even close,” he says, like it’s a compliment and a complaint in one.
The door slams behind him. The lock clicks.
Now it’s just you. Him. Darkness. And a six-inch gap of air between you that’s slowly shrinking the longer you try not to acknowledge how small this closet actually is.
Jungkook shifts, probably trying to give you space, which is hilarious because there is none.
“Look,” you say, “I’m only in here because someone shoved me.”
“That makes two of us.”
“Cool. So neither of us is having fun.”
“Yet,” he says, too easily.
You narrow your eyes, not that he can see it. “You really think that line works on girls in closets?”
“I don’t know,” he says. “You tell me.”
You make a noise somewhere between a scoff and a laugh. “Okay, no. You’re not allowed to be hot and full of shit.”
“Not full of shit,” he says. “Mildly irritating at most.”
“Mildly?”
He leans back against the wall. “Okay, moderately. Maybe.”
“Glad we agree.”
You try to shift your weight without brushing against him, which fails, because there’s nowhere to move. Your elbow bumps his arm. Your knee grazes his boot.
He lets out a dramatic sigh. “Alright, I’m putting you on a movement ban.”
“Excuse me?”
“You keep flailing around like that, I’m gonna get accused of starting something in here.”
“You are starting something. With your whole… vibe.”
He grins. “My vibe?”
“Yeah, the ‘mysterious party menace’ thing.”
“Didn’t realize that was my brand.”
“Oh, come on. You walk into every lecture like you’re arriving late to your own funeral.”
“You know me from lecture?”
Shit.
You freeze.
“I—” You recover, sort of. “I mean, yeah. You’re not exactly hard to notice. Motorcycle helmet? Black hoodie in May? The whole tortured poet aura?”
He raises an eyebrow, amused. “You’ve been paying attention.”
“No, I—shut up.”
He steps closer, just barely. His voice drops into that annoying, amused register that you suspect makes girls fall in love against their will.
“You’re flustered.”
“I’m trapped. There’s a difference.”
“Still,” he says, tone low, teasing, “you’re very talkative for someone who didn’t want to be in here.”
You suck in a breath. “I’m trying to defuse the awkward tension.”
“Well,” he says, leaning slightly closer, “you’re not doing a great job.”
You go still. “…Why?”
“Because if you don’t stop fidgeting and talking at a hundred miles an hour,” he says, voice light but just a little dangerous, “I’m gonna kiss you just to shut you up.”
Your brain whites out.
You forget how to stand.
You definitely forget how to breathe.
You make a noise that could be a laugh, or possibly a system reboot.
“…That’s rude,” you manage.
Jungkook grins. “Is it working?”
You blink at him. Slowly.
“…That’s your solution? Kissing as a silencing tactic?”
Jungkook smirks. “Efficient.”
You squint at him in the dark. “That’s assault with extra steps.”
“Only if it’s not well received.”
“Oh my god,” you mutter, shoving lightly at his arm. “You’re actually worse in real life.”
He laughs, like that didn’t wound you at all. “In real life? What, you’ve imagined a better version of me somewhere else?”
You hesitate for half a second too long.
He catches it. Of course he does.
His smile shifts — not smug now, but curious. “Wait. Do I know you?”
“Nope.”
“You sure? You’re acting like you’ve had a whole character arc about me.”
“I just have good observational skills.”
“And a little crush?”
You snort. “Please. I only crush on emotionally available people.”
“Ouch.”
“You’ll live.”
“I’m not emotionally unavailable,” he says, mock offended. “I just don’t like… people.”
“That’s literally the definition.”
Jungkook moves a little closer. Not enough to touch, but enough to invade. Like someone stepping past your comfort zone just to prove they can. His voice is quiet, playful.
“Okay, but be honest — if I had kissed you, what would you have done?”
You meet his gaze in the dim light. Your heart does an actual backflip, but your mouth?
Deadpan.
“Bitten you.”
He grins, all teeth. “Kinky.”
You roll your eyes so hard you almost see god. “You are unbelievable.”
“I get that a lot.”
Another beat passes.
The party noise pulses outside. The door shakes once, like someone bumped into it. Neither of you move.
He tilts his head, watching you more carefully now. “So who are you, anyway?”
You blink. “What?”
“You know who I am. Everyone knows who I am, apparently. But I don’t know you.”
You shrug, trying to sound unfazed. “Just a girl in your class.”
“Which class?”
“I’m not telling you.”
His eyebrows shoot up. “Why not?”
“Because I’ve seen how your brain works. The second you find out, you’ll start showing up late on purpose to make an entrance.”
He grins, wide and dangerous. “So you have been watching me.”
Damn it.
“That’s not—”
“Obsessed,” he says.
“Oh my god, I’m going to strangle you with one of those dumb chains on your pants.”
“They’re not dumb. They’re functional.”
“For what, exactly? Attaching yourself to reality?”
“Wow,” he says, smiling now like he’s thoroughly enjoying himself. “You’ve got jokes.”
You glance at the door. “Seven minutes better be almost up.”
“Why?” he asks, voice dipping just slightly. “You scared you’re starting to like me?”
You look back at him. “I’m scared you’re starting to like me.”
That shuts him up for half a second.
Then—
“…Touché.”
There’s a pause. You can hear your own heartbeat in the quiet.
He steps just a little closer. “Okay. Serious question.”
“Unlikely, but sure.”
“Are you always like this?”
You blink. “Like what?”
“This,” he says. “You know—snarky. Quick. Unimpressed. Kind of mean in a fun way.”
You stare at him. “Are you into being bullied?”
“I’m starting to wonder.”
The door bangs open just then, and the light hits both of your faces. You flinch at the sudden glare. Outside, someone yells, “ALRIGHT, CLOSET DWELLERS, TIMES UP!”
Jungkook doesn’t move.
Neither do you.
Finally, he leans a little closer and says under his breath, only loud enough for you to hear:
“You still didn’t tell me your name.”
You raise a brow.
“You didn’t earn it.”
He laughs, and it’s way too genuine. Like he didn’t expect this night to go like this at all — and somehow, that makes two of you.
As you duck out of the closet, brushing past him in the doorway, you hear him murmur:
“I’m gonna find out, you know.”
You throw a look over your shoulder, smile tugging at your lips despite yourself.
“Good luck.”
The door flings open.
Air, light, freedom.
You stumble out like someone just dragged you back from the underworld. The world is louder now, messier. Colors sharper. Sounds distorted, like everything’s underwater and also on fire.
Your heart is still pounding.
Your brain? Gone. Missing. Presumed dead.
Your dignity? Filing a police report.
You turn in a daze, blinking through the chaos—and find Yanni, breathless, holding a very giggly and wine-drunk Jenna by the elbow.
“THERE you are!” Yanni yells over the music. “We thought you got kidnapped by the Pit goblins!”
Jenna cackles. “I told her you were probably in the closet making out with a stranger. I WAS RIGHT.”
You blink at them.
Open your mouth.
Immediately close it again.
Yanni frowns. “Wait. Are you okay? You look like you just got hit by a really hot bus.”
You stare at her.
Then—
“I need air. I need, like, seventeen breaths of non-sweaty air. I—do you have water? I think I forgot how to swallow. I forgot—I forgot my name.”
Yanni’s eyes go wide. “Did you actually make out with someone?! Oh my god, who was it? Was he hot? Did he have a tongue ring? Was it that guy with the fake angel wings? Please tell me he had wings.”
“I—no. No wings.”
“Okay, so not a red flag. Good start.”
You grab both of them by the arms and start dragging them away from the closet, feet moving on autopilot. “We need to go. Just—somewhere. Away. Outside. Antarctica. I don’t care.”
Jenna, still loopy from the cocktail she stole from a girl dressed as the Pope, squints at you. “You’re acting weird.”
“Something happened,” you say, voice a little unhinged. “Something catastrophic.”
Yanni gasps. “Did you black out?!”
“No, worse.”
“Did you throw up on someone?!”
“WORSE.”
Yanni pulls you down onto a sagging patio couch under a string of flickering lights. The Pit’s back deck is quieter — only a handful of people out here, laughing or making out or both.
You sit between them, trying to remember how to form human sentences.
Jenna leans her head dramatically on your shoulder. “You definitely kissed someone.”
“I didn’t.”
Yanni narrows her eyes. “You wanted to.”
“I didn’t!”
They both stare at you.
You sigh. Long. Shaky.
Then you say, very quietly, like it might summon him if you say it too loud:
“I was in the closet with Jeon Jungkook.”
.
.
.
Jenna sits up so fast she elbows you in the boob.
Yanni chokes on her drink and coughs, “I’m sorry—WHAT?”
You hold up your hands, like it’ll protect you from the emotional storm about to erupt. “It was an accident! I got pushed in first, and then some drunk idiots shoved him in after me, and then the door locked and we were just there. Together. In the dark. Breathing the same air.”
Jenna is vibrating. “YOU WERE BREATHING JEON JUNGKOOK’S AIR. DO YOU KNOW HOW MANY GIRLS WOULD PAY FOR THAT EXPERIENCE.”
“I didn’t ask for the experience!”
Yanni grabs your arm, shaking it. “Okay but what happened?! Tell us everything. Did you talk? Did he recognize you? Did you touch his hair? Did he touch you? Did your souls kiss?!”
You stare at her. “What the hell is a soul kiss?”
“Shut up and answer me!!”
You drag your hands down your face. “We talked. He was annoying. And hot. And annoying about being hot. He said if I didn’t stop panicking he was gonna kiss me and I think my nervous system flatlined for like ten seconds.”
Jenna screams. A real one.
Yanni grabs her cup and throws it into a bush just so she can clap. “That’s it. That’s the plot of a Netflix movie. I’m calling a casting director right now.”
“Guys, stop—”
“Did he know who you were?” Jenna asks, eyes wide.
You deflate. “No.”
Yanni freezes.
Jenna gasps like she’s watching a baby deer get hit by a truck.
“He didn’t recognize you?”
You shake your head, slumping into the couch like your spine is giving up. “Not even a little. I told him I was in his class, and he just blinked at me like I was an off-brand yogurt at the back of the fridge.”
“But—but you sit in the second row!”
“Yeah, apparently that’s not enough to pierce through the wall of apathy and leather jackets.”
Jenna is personally offended. “You’ve been thirsting over him for MONTHS.”
“Not out loud!”
“Your search history says otherwise.”
“That was ONE TIME—”
“‘Does Jeon Jungkook have a girlfriend’ is not a casual search, Y/N.”
Yanni throws an arm around your shoulder. “Okay. So. We have a situation.”
You groan. “No, we don’t. The situation is over. I will simply crawl into a hole and never speak to anyone again.”
“OR,” Yanni says, grinning, “we make him fall in love with you.”
You snort. “Hard pass.”
“I’m serious!”
“So am I! The guy barely knows what day of the week it is. He didn’t even know my name, and I was two inches from his face.”
Jenna fans herself. “God, I wish I was two inches from his face.”
Yanni is already spiraling into scheming mode. “Okay but hear me out: what if this is your origin story?”
“I don’t need an origin story. I need ice and maybe a lobotomy.”
“You’re gonna end up married to him.”
“I’m gonna end up IN A STRAITJACKET.”
They both lean in at the same time, grinning like devils.
And somewhere inside you — beneath the panic and the humiliation and the complete collapse of your self-esteem — something sparks.
A very tiny, very traitorous thought:
He doesn’t know who I am yet.
But what if he wanted to?
.
.
.
No.
Absolutely not.
You refuse to be delusional.
But still…
You clutch your drink with both hands and whisper to yourself like a prayer:
“…I cannot go back in that closet.”
Jungkook steps out into the warm night air, the noise of the party still thrumming behind him like a heartbeat that’s had too much sugar and zero regard for consequences.
He barely gets two steps out the door before he sees movement near the gate — a blur of color, of bare shoulders and tangled hair and wild, frantic energy.
Her.
The girl from the closet.
She’s running.
Well, not running — but walking very quickly in a way that screams “I just made a horrible decision and I’m trying to disappear into the night like it never happened.”
He watches as she yanks her friends down the sidewalk, arms waving, words too far away to make out. One of them glances back at the house, laughing. The other throws her arm around the girl’s shoulder like she’s trying to keep her from disintegrating.
Jungkook can’t hear them. Can’t read their lips.
But he doesn’t need to.
He’s seen that look before.
People don’t leave parties like that unless something got to them.
And apparently… that something was him.
He watches them disappear around the corner. The wind shifts, warm and sweet and heavy with the scent of grass and spilled vodka.
Jungkook runs a hand through his hair, the edges of his mouth tugging up, involuntarily.
He doesn’t smile a lot.
But right now?
He’s grinning.
11:18 PM — Inside, Kitchen
He finds Jimin first, leaning against the fridge, sipping from a red cup with glitter smeared across one cheek like someone tried to make out with a rave.
Jungkook walks up, casual as hell. “Hey.”
Jimin lifts a brow. “You’re still vertical. Closet girl didn’t kill you?”
Jungkook leans on the counter beside him, eyes scanning the room lazily. “Nope. She was fun.”
Jimin grins. “Define fun.”
“Annoyed. Loud. Mean. Called me out within the first two minutes.”
“So, your type.”
Jungkook gives him a lazy look. “Do you know who she was?”
Jimin blinks. “You mean you didn’t?”
“No. She said we’re in the same class, but…” He shrugs. “I wasn’t exactly focused on academics in there.”
Jimin sips his drink, way too amused. “You’re telling me you spent seven minutes pressed up against someone and didn’t bother to ask her name?”
“I didn’t get her name. She wouldn’t give it to me.”
Jimin whistles. “Damn. Girl’s got boundaries.”
Jungkook turns his full attention to him now. “So… do you know her?”
Jimin smiles. Slow. Evil.
“Maybe.”
Jungkook straightens. “What.”
“I mean, I’ve seen her around. Could be anyone.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“It’s an answer adjacent.”
“Jimin.”
Jimin just grins wider, like this is his favorite hobby. “Why? You wanna see her again?”
“No.” Jungkook’s voice is too quick, too defensive. Then: “I just—she seemed familiar.”
“Sure. Let’s go with that.”
Before Jungkook can retaliate, Taehyung appears, wearing someone else’s sunglasses and holding a plate of mini cupcakes he absolutely did not make.
Jungkook turns to him like salvation. “Tae. Please tell me you know who the girl in the closet was.”
Taehyung pauses, cupcake halfway to his mouth.
Then, slowly, he lowers it and says:
“Ohhhh. You mean the girl with the smart mouth and trust issues?”
“Yes!”
“Yup. Definitely know her.”
“Who is she?!”
Taehyung smiles with all his teeth. “Can’t say.”
Jungkook stares at him.
“What do you mean you can’t say?”
“Non-disclosure agreement.”
“That’s not a real thing!”
“It is now.”
Jungkook throws his hands in the air. “Are you both insane?”
“Yes,” Jimin says, grinning.
“We’re protecting the plot,” Taehyung adds solemnly.
Jungkook blinks. “What plot?”
“The enemies-to-lovers one,” Jimin says, sipping his drink. “You’re in the first act. Don’t be weird about it.”
“I’m not—!” Jungkook cuts himself off, pinches the bridge of his nose, then mutters, “You guys are the worst.”
“You’re welcome,” Taehyung says cheerfully.
Jungkook turns, heading for the living room, but Jimin calls after him:
“You really gonna let a girl roast you in a closet and disappear without finding out her name?”
Jungkook doesn’t stop walking.
But he does smirk.
“Of course not.”
11:42 PM — Later, Upstairs Hallway
Jungkook leans against the wall, scrolling mindlessly through his phone. But his head isn’t in it.
He’s thinking about the sound of her voice.
The way she said, “You didn’t earn it.” The way she pushed past him and didn’t look back.
He still doesn’t know her name.
But he’s starting to think he needs to.
Desperately.
You’re early.
Not obnoxiously so, but early enough to get your usual seat — second row, slightly to the left. Close enough to focus, far enough to keep your laptop screen hidden when you’re secretly Googling niche references during class.
You’re wearing jeans and a loose t-shirt. Nothing fancy. Hair pulled back. Glasses on.
A normal girl living a normal life, unbothered and deeply uninterested in emotionally reckless men with perfect jawlines and leather jackets. You are zen.
You are healed.
...You are lying to yourself.
Your leg has been bouncing under the desk for a solid five minutes. You haven’t even opened your laptop. You’re just staring at the professor’s slides like they personally betrayed you.
And then—
The door opens.
You hear it before you see it. That faint creak of poorly oiled hinges and the collective inhale of every girl in the room.
You don’t turn around.
You don’t have to.
You know it’s him.
Because everyone in a ten-foot radius straightens like they’re about to be graded on posture. There’s a flutter of lip gloss applications. Someone actually whispers his name.
You pretend to be deeply focused on the “Media Ethics and Digital Responsibility” slide.
Jeon Jungkook walks in. On time.
The professor blinks like he’s hallucinating. “Huh. Welcome, Mr. Jeon. Look at you.”
Jungkook just nods, loose and casual, but you can feel it.
He’s different today.
He doesn’t do his usual routine — no airpods, no gum chewing, no half-lidded stroll like he’s walking into a photoshoot instead of a lecture.
No, this time… he’s scanning.
Not in a weird way. Just—calculated.
Eyes moving across each row like he’s checking a list in his head.
Looking for something.
Someone.
Your stomach tightens.
And then—
His gaze glides right past you.
Doesn’t pause. Doesn’t flicker.
Nothing.
He slides into a seat a few rows back, drops his bag, and leans back like he didn’t just steamroll your entire emotional ecosystem last night.
You blink at your screen.
Wow.
Okay.
Coolcoolcoolcoolcool.
So he just… forgot you existed? Already?
You tell yourself it’s a good thing. That you’re off the hook.
But still—
Your phone vibrates in your lap.
Then again.
And again.
You glance down.
YANNI [9:57AM] FIND US AFTER CLASS
JENNA [9:57AM] LIKE IMMEDIATELY
YANNI [9:58AM] BIG. SHIT. IS. HAPPENING.
YANNI [9:58AM] HUGE.
JENNA [9:58AM] YOU MIGHT BE FAMOUS
You: 🙃
11:07AM — Campus Library, Third Floor (aka Gossip HQ)
You find them between the graphic novel section and the fake potted plant that hides the worst Wi-Fi signal on campus.
Yanni is pacing. Jenna is sitting on the floor with a laptop open, half a croissant in her mouth and murder in her eyes.
“FINALLY,” Yanni breathes, grabbing your wrist and yanking you down beside her.
“What is happening?” you whisper. “Did someone die?”
“YOU might,” Jenna says around a bite. “From cardiac arrest.”
You blink. “Why?”
Yanni flips her phone around.
It’s an Instagram story. Jungkook’s account. You recognize the handle from your extremely short-lived stalking phase.
The video is short. A dim hallway, flashing lights, the thump of party music in the background.
Text overlaid:
"7 minutes wasn’t long enough. If you know who she is… tell her." 👀🖤
Your heart stops.
You stare at the screen like it might explode.
“Wha—”
“He’s looking for you,” Yanni whispers, eyes wild.
“He’s trying to CROWD-SOURCE you,” Jenna adds. “LIKE A MISSING PERSON.”
You genuinely don’t know what to do with your hands. “I—I don’t even have Instagram. I didn’t see this.”
“Well, now the entire internet has,” Yanni says, scrolling through dozens of replies and reshared stories. “People are putting up theories. One girl swears it was her and her friends are backing her up.”
You feel a little sick.
“I—he doesn’t even remember me.”
“He does now.”
Before you can spiral further, a voice cuts through the quiet.
“Aha. Found you.”
You whip around.
Taehyung and Jimin are approaching, looking like they just stepped out of a K-drama fight scene. Jimin is in an oversized hoodie and glasses, sipping from a matcha latte. Taehyung is holding a leather-bound journal like it’s a prop.
“Oh my god,” Yanni whispers, straightening like she’s about to present a thesis.
Jimin nods at you. “Closet girl.”
Taehyung gasps. “I knew it!”
You slap both hands over your face. “I am going to dissolve into the carpet.”
Jimin flops down next to you. “You’re literally a phenomenon.”
“I don’t want to be a phenomenon! I want to be anonymous.”
“Too late,” Taehyung sing-songs. “He’s obsessed.”
“He’s not—”
Jimin cuts you off. “He made us look through the security footage of the Pit to try and find you.”
You blink. “There’s security footage?!”
“That’s not the point.”
Yanni claps like she’s been waiting for this all her life. “Okay, okay, okay. NEW PLAN.”
Jenna nods. “Mission: Keep Her Hidden.”
You snap your head to look at him. “Wait, what—?”
“We cannot let him find you too easily. The mystery is part of the power.” Yanni explained, a smile that was a little too enthusiastic spreading across her face.
“She’s right.” Jimin chimed in.
You blink between them all, a growing sense of terror blooming in your chest.
“I feel like I’m in a YA novel.”
Taehyung beams. “You are. And it’s about to get so much worse.”
If Jungkook knew his Instagram story would cause an actual phenomenon, he would’ve thrown his phone in the nearest sewer.
He’s seated on the edge of the fountain, legs stretched out, black boots dusted with dry grass. Sunglasses perched on his head, arms crossed, regret pouring off of him in waves.
There is a line.
A real, breathing, giggling line of girls waiting to speak to him.
“I swear,” the third one in a row says, flipping her hair, “it was me. I had this red tank top on—”
“You weren’t wearing red,” Jungkook says flatly, not even looking up.
She blinks. “You remember that?”
He sighs. “Unfortunately.”
She pouts, tosses her hair again, and walks off.
The next girl steps forward with more confidence than he’s emotionally prepared to deal with.
“Hey,” she says, batting her lashes. “So, I was totally gonna come up to you last night, but I got pulled into beer pong, and—”
“Not you either,” he says, already tired.
Behind him, Jimin is sprawled on the grass like a cat in the sun, sipping iced coffee and watching the chaos like it’s live theater.
“I don’t know, man,” he says. “Closet Girl’s starting to sound like a fever dream.”
“She was real,” Jungkook mutters.
Taehyung, perched dramatically on the fountain’s edge, hums. “This feels like a modern fairy tale. Only instead of a glass slipper, she left behind unresolved sexual tension and a mild existential crisis.”
Jungkook doesn’t respond. Just drags a hand down his face.
“You know,” Jimin adds, “you could just let her go. Move on. Forget it happened.”
Jungkook stares at him like he’s just suggested licking a subway pole.
“I mean it,” Jimin continues. “Is this really worth it?”
Jungkook leans back, letting the sun hit his face.
And after a pause, he says:
“…She was funny.”
Taehyung blinks. “Funny?”
“She was… sharp. Gave me shit. Told me I didn’t earn the right to flirt with her.” He shrugs. “I don’t know. It was just… real.”
Jimin and Taehyung exchange a look.
But before either can respond—
“Hey, Jeon.”
They all glance up.
A girl in a glittery top and too-high heels struts up like she’s approaching a casting call.
“I was wearing angel wings last night,” she purrs.
“Congratulations,” Jungkook says dryly.
“I think I’m the girl you’re looking for.”
“You’re not.”
“How would you know?”
Jungkook blinks slowly. “Because I just would.”
She scoffs and storms off, muttering something about him not being that hot anyway.
Jimin snorts. “The delusion is wild today.”
Taehyung raises his brows. “You know, you did make her a mystery. People love a good mystery.”
“I hate this mystery,” Jungkook mutters.
And then—
Taehyung straightens suddenly.
“Oh,” he says, too casually. “There she goes.”
Jungkook’s eyes snap up.
“What?!”
“She’s walking past,” Jimin adds, barely containing his grin.
Jungkook jumps to his feet, scanning the path just ahead of them.
He sees a group of students. A couple laughing. A guy with a skateboard. A girl in a floral skirt. Another in an oversized sweater.
But no one familiar.
No her.
“Where?” he demands, turning back to them.
Taehyung just shrugs, biting back a smile. “Hm. Maybe she slipped away again.”
Jimin’s grinning like the devil. “So mysterious.”
Jungkook stares at them.
And then slowly, slowly, sits back down, glaring at nothing.
“I hate you both.”
“You’re welcome,” Jimin says cheerfully.
Meanwhile — You, Just 20 Feet Away
You’re clutching a smoothie and telling Jenna that you swear to God if Yanni says the words “power move” one more time, you’re going to commit a crime.
You do not see Jungkook.
You do not see the crowd of girls.
You do not see your entire romantic fate spiraling out in a perfect storm of timing, ego, and extremely bad luck.
But you do hear Yanni’s voice crackling through your group chat ten seconds later:
YANNI [12:43PM] HE’S OUTSIDE RN. WALKING DISTANCE. I REPEAT: JEON JUNGKOOK IS WITHIN WALKING DISTANCE.
You pause. Look up.
“…The universe is playing games with me,” you mutter.
Jenna just takes your smoothie and sips like it’s none of her business. “Welcome to Act Two.”
Three Days Later – 12:19PM Campus Lawn, under the shade of an old oak tree
Yanni is dramatically slicing into her overpriced salad like it’s personally offended her.
“I swear to God,” she says, spearing a piece of lettuce, “if she doesn’t just tell him soon, I’m going to combust.”
“She doesn’t even want him to know!” Jenna laughs, peeling the wrapper off her sandwich. “She’s surviving off vibes and secondhand embarrassment.”
Across from them, lounging on the grass, Jimin snorts into his iced chai. “Honestly, mood.”
Taehyung is lying flat on his back, sunglasses on, using Jimin’s thigh as a pillow and holding his phone above his face like it’s too exhausting to lift it further.
“It’s better this way,” he hums. “Mystery. Intrigue. Emotional damage.”
Yanni points at him with her fork. “See? That’s the energy we’re all riding on.”
“I don’t know how she hasn’t just imploded,” Jenna says, sipping her drink. “She had a panic attack in the psych building bathroom yesterday because someone said Jungkook's name too loud.”
Taehyung laughs. “That could’ve been anyone.”
“No,” Yanni corrects. “She knew exactly how he said it. Deep voice. Tiny rasp. A little pouty. ‘Jungkook.’” She mimics it, exaggerated and ridiculous.
Jimin wheezes.
Taehyung props himself up on one elbow, turning to the girls with mock-serious eyes. “You guys are evil.”
“Thank you,” Yanni says, deadpan.
And then—
“You’re evil,” comes a familiar, slightly exasperated voice behind them.
All four turn.
Jeon Jungkook walks up, hoodie sleeves pushed to his elbows, black jeans, silver chain catching the sunlight.
He looks… tired.
Not in a tragic way. More like haunted by the choices that led him to this exact moment.
Taehyung lifts two fingers in a lazy peace sign. “Ah. The lover boy returns.”
Jimin just grins like Christmas came early. “How’s your army of imposters?”
Jungkook drops onto the grass with a groan. “Still growing. I got ambushed by three more girls outside the business building this morning.”
“Business building girls,” Jimin mutters. “That’s a bold demographic.”
“She said she left her earring in the closet with me,” Jungkook says, running a hand through his hair. “She was wearing cat ears.”
“Oh no,” Jenna whispers behind a laugh.
Yanni coughs into her drink.
Jungkook narrows his eyes at them. “Do I know you two?”
“Nope,” Yanni says, biting into a cherry tomato. “Just enjoying the show.”
Jenna shrugs, fighting a grin. “Free entertainment.”
Taehyung watches them both like he’s just realized something.
Jungkook leans back on his palms, legs stretched out, expression a mix of exhaustion and suspicion. “You guys ever regret making me post that?”
Jimin doesn’t even blink. “Nope.”
“I knew this would happen,” Jungkook mutters.
“You didn’t know people would create full conspiracy boards,” Taehyung points out. “Someone literally mapped out Closet Girl’s shoe print from the party photo.”
“Don’t forget the girl who recreated the closet,” Jimin adds. “Like. Bought a closet. Filmed a fake interaction.”
“God,” Jungkook groans, scrubbing his face. “I’m an idiot.”
He exhales through his nose, still half-distracted, when—
“Well, it’s even funnier,” Jenna says, not quite under her breath, “because she doesn’t even have socials.”
Yanni chokes on her soda.
Jimin and Taehyung both freeze mid-laugh.
And Jungkook—
Whips his head around so fast it’s a miracle he doesn’t get whiplash.
“Wait.”
Yanni slaps Jenna’s arm.
Jungkook’s eyes are wide. “You—” He points between them. “You know her?!”
Jenna blinks. “Who?”
“Closet Girl,” Jungkook says, sharp now, sitting up straighter. “You just said she doesn’t have socials—how would you know that?”
Yanni lifts her cup to her mouth, speaking through her straw. “Could’ve been anyone.”
“But it’s not,” Jungkook says, eyes narrowing. “You know who it is.”
He looks at Taehyung and Jimin like they’ve personally betrayed him. “You said you didn’t know!”
Taehyung holds up his hands, unbothered. “We didn’t say that.”
“Yeah,” Jimin says, already laughing. “We just didn’t say anything helpful.”
Jungkook glares. “You assholes.”
Yanni leans in, chin resting on her hand, absolutely loving this. “Why do you want to find her so bad?”
Jungkook hesitates. Just for a beat.
And then, quieter than expected, he says:
“…Because I can’t stop thinking about her.”
Taehyung blinks.
Jimin’s mouth parts a little.
Yanni and Jenna exchange a look.
“That was almost sweet,” Jenna says.
“Almost,” Yanni echoes.
Jungkook looks at them like he’s debating a crime. “Please. Just give me one clue.”
Jimin just smiles, stretching out on the grass again. “Mmm. No.”
“Not even her name?” Jungkook tries.
Taehyung grins. “Where’s the fun in that?”
Jungkook scrubs his hands over his face. “You people are evil.”
Yanni smiles sweetly. “We’ve been over this.”
After another beat of sulking, he finally stands, brushing his hands off on his jeans.
“You’re all the worst.”
“We know,” Jimin says, cheerful as ever.
Jungkook sighs, starts walking away—
And turns back around.
“If she ever asks about me—”
“She won’t,” Yanni says.
“Okay, if she does,” he presses, “can you just tell her I’m not as annoying as I seem?”
“No promises,” Jenna says.
He groans again and walks off, muttering something under his breath.
The moment he’s out of earshot, the group erupts.
“THAT,” Jimin says, sitting upright, “WAS TOO CLOSE.”
Yanni fans herself. “I panicked, okay?! I didn’t mean to say it—he just appeared.”
“You almost ruined the whole thing!” Taehyung says gleefully. “But also… he’s losing his mind.”
“And she has no idea,” Jenna adds, grinning.
Jimin leans back with a content sigh. “This is better than television.”
Same Day — 4:42 PM Campus Library — Second Floor
The study area is quieter than usual, with just the occasional cough, a rogue phone vibration, or someone smacking their space bar like it owes them money.
You, Yanni, and Jenna are huddled around your usual table — highlighters scattered, tabs open, coffees half-melted. It’s productive chaos. Or it was, until Jenna froze mid-sentence.
“...Don’t look now,” she says, voice already breathless with suppressed panic, “but Jungkook and his friends just walked in.”
Your soul immediately ejects from your body.
“WHERE—”
“Don’t look,” Yanni hisses, stabbing her pen in warning. “You’ll give us away.”
You stare down at your laptop like you’re trying to astral project into it.
Footsteps shuffle closer, closer—
And then.
They sit at the table directly behind you.
Your chair is now back-to-back with Jungkook’s.
There is a shared inch of air between you.
You can feel the heat off his stupid, beautiful, back-in-black hoodie.
Jenna mouths OH MY GOD. Yanni is gripping her iced latte like she’s about to squeeze it into mist.
Across from Jungkook, Jimin and Taehyung sit — and the moment they spot Yanni and Jenna?
They grin.
Smug. Pleased. Silent little devils.
Not a word — not a wave — just the occasional flicker of laughter and shared glances while you sit there about to spontaneously combust.
“I swear to god,” Jungkook says behind you, low and miserable, “if one more girl corners me between classes and asks if I like strawberry lip gloss, I’m dropping out.”
“She had a presentation,” Jimin offers. “She brought visual aids.”
“She brought a poster board,” Jungkook groans. “With a QR code to her TikTok.”
“Impressive,” Taehyung hums.
Jungkook thumps his head gently on the table. “I just wanted to meet her. One girl. Now I can’t go to class without hearing someone yell ‘closet king’ at me.”
Yanni chokes into her drink.
You’re doing breathing exercises you learned in a freshman wellness seminar.
They are not working.
“I hate all of you,” Jungkook mutters. “You said you’d help.”
“I did help,” Jimin says, like it’s obvious.
“You gave me nothing.”
“False,” Taehyung says, adjusting his sunglasses indoors like a menace. “We gave you... ✨context✨.”
Jungkook scoffs. “No. You gave me trauma.”
There’s a pause. Then, Jimin goes, “Fine. Want another clue?”
You tense so hard your back pops.
Jenna grabs your thigh under the table.
Yanni is vibrating.
Everyone is vibrating.
“Yes. Something real this time.”
“...She has elbows.”
There’s a pause.
A very long one.
“She has what?” Jungkook asks, flat.
“Elbows,” Taehyung says innocently.
You almost die.
“Taehyung,” Jungkook says slowly, like he's speaking to a small child, “everyone has elbows.”
“Exactly,” Taehyung nods. “She fits right in.”
Jimin is snorting into his hoodie sleeve.
You, meanwhile, are clamping your hand over your mouth to keep from screaming.
“Is this a joke to you?” Jungkook asks, exasperated. “Do you want me to suffer?”
“I’m not lying,” Taehyung says, clearly delighted. “She definitely had elbows. Two, even.”
“Wow,” Jungkook deadpans. “A girl with two elbows. I’ll just walk around campus asking people to show me their joints.”
Jimin shrugs. “Could work.”
Your hand is cramping from clutching your pencil so tightly.
Yanni is in physical pain from holding in her laughter.
Jenna scribbles onto her piece of paper, turning it to you.
THEY SAID ELBOWS. I’M LOSING IT.
Jungkook groans behind you, slumping so hard in his chair you feel it through the back of yours. “I’m going insane. I’m actually insane. This is what insanity feels like.”
“And yet,” Taehyung says, completely deadpan, “she walks among us.”
Jimin sips his drink with a smirk. “Right under your nose.”
Behind your screen, you scream silently.
Jenna writes out another message:
RIGHT UNDER HIS NOSE. THEY’RE DOING THIS ON PURPOSE.
You’re certain of two things:
You will never emotionally recover from this.
Jungkook is going to need a therapist when he finally figures it out.
And the worst part?
He doesn’t even turn around.
Not once.
He gets up after ten minutes, mumbles something about “going to get gum,” and walks off—shoulders tense, head down, frustration rolling off him in waves.
The second he’s gone, your table explodes.
“I CAN’T,” Jenna whispers, doubled over.
“ELBOWS?!” Yanni wheezes. “HE’S GOING TO BE HAUNTED BY ELBOWS NOW.”
You drop your face into your arms. “If he finds out it was me, I’m changing schools.”
Jenna wipes a tear from her eye. “You’ll be a myth. A cryptid. A legend with joints.”
Taehyung and Jimin?
Still sitting there.
Still smirking.
Still saying nothing.
Later That Night, Jungkook’s Dorm
“I’m not giving up,” Jungkook mutters, scrolling through his DMs.
“What are you even looking for?” Jimin asks from the other bed.
Summary: When you're dragged to an underground party by your best friend, the last thing you expect is to be thrown into a game of Seven Minutes in Heaven — especially not with Jeon Jungkook, the brooding, sharp-tongued heartbreaker with a reputation that precedes him. You barely know him. He barely looks at anyone. But behind that locked door, time slows down, sparks fly, and he's done for. You're sure he'll forget you. He does. But now he’s on a mission to figure out who “Closet Girl” is — and your friends are doing everything they can to mess with him while keeping your identity secret.
genre: University AU | strangers to lovers (sort of)
warnings: flirting, mild romantic tension, social anxiety, embarrassment, minor illness, playful pranks, friendly manipulation, study stress, mild language, sarcastic banter, JK being so whipped, slow-burn romance, light comedy/drama, no serious harm
WC: 18k words
a/n: this is technically pt. 2 without meaning to be
Thursday Night – Jungkook’s Dorm 8:09 PM
Jungkook opens the door mid-yawn and freezes when he sees Jimin, Taehyung, Yanni, and Jenna standing in the hallway like they’re on a mission from God.
“What… are you wearing?” he asks, staring at Taehyung, who’s in sunglasses and a turtleneck like he’s about to brief the CIA.
“Respect the fit,” Taehyung replies, sweeping in past him.
“Don’t ask questions,” Jimin grins, patting Jungkook’s chest on the way in. “You’re about to receive the gift of knowledge.”
Yanni lifts a flash drive dramatically in the air. “And heartbreak.”
Jungkook blinks. “...What?”
They all file in before he can protest. Jimin kicks his beanbag chair into position. Jenna’s already hooking her laptop up to Jungkook’s TV. Yanni’s dragging over a dining chair like she’s preparing to defend her dissertation.
“This is an ambush,” Jungkook mutters.
“It’s an intervention,” Jimin corrects. “For your situation.”
“What situation.”
Yanni taps the spacebar. The TV flickers to life.
A title slide appears:
“THE CLOSET FILES: VOL. 2” A tragic love story told in 720p Presented by: Four people who are tired of your whining
Jungkook groans, flopping onto his bed face-first. “No.”
“Oh, yes,” Taehyung grins, sliding off his sunglasses.
Slide One: A blurry image of a girl from behind, walking through the quad. Head covered with a cartoon closet sticker.
“Subject A, known to the public as Closet Girl, photographed in her natural habitat.”
Jungkook peeks through his fingers. “...Where did you even get that?”
“Campus security has blind spots,” Yanni says flatly.
“I’m kidding,” Jenna adds quickly. “It’s from my camera roll. Don’t arrest us.”
Slide Two: Another photo. Reader sitting under a tree, reading. Closet.png pasted neatly over her face.
“She’s literate,” Taehyung says solemnly. “We can confirm this.”
“She has a favorite pen,” Yanni adds, pointing at the zoomed-in detail of your stationery.
Slide Three: A photo of you from behind again, walking into the library.
“She studies a lot,” Jimin says helpfully. “You’d like her. Oh wait—”
“I DO LIKE HER, I JUST DON’T KNOW WHO SHE IS,” Jungkook cries, dragging his hands down his face.
Yanni grins. “Hence: this.”
Slide Four: Reader holding a coffee cup. You can barely see her, but her wrist has a tiny pen mark on it.
“She writes little reminders on her hand,” Jenna explains. “This one said ‘ask prof for extension.’ We did NOT hack her calendar. Yet.”
“I feel like this is illegal,” Jungkook mutters.
“It’s romance,” Taehyung says. “And art.”
Slide Five: A very blurry picture from the Seven Minutes in Heaven night. Reader walking toward the drinks table. Closet still hiding her identity.
“I remember this,” Jungkook murmurs, sitting up a little straighter. “That was before—"
“Before she got trapped in a closet with your emotionally unavailable self?” Yanni supplies.
Jungkook glares. “I was emotionally available in that closet.”
“You said you were gonna kiss her to shut her up,” Jenna points out.
“She wouldn’t stop panicking!” Jungkook defends.
Jimin pats his shoulder. “It’s okay. We have more slides.”
Jungkook buries his face in his hands again. “God, do I even want to see them?”
“No,” Yanni answers. “But you have to.”
Slide Six: Another shot. Reader sitting in a lecture hall, two rows below Jimin’s camera view. Her head is down, scribbling. Closet.png doing its job.
“You literally sit this close to her in class,” Jimin says, zooming in dramatically. “And yet you never noticed her.”
“She doesn’t talk!” Jungkook protests. “She just… sits there! Like a quiet little nerd—”
“You’re picturing her in the closet again, aren’t you,” Jenna asks.
Jungkook covers his face with a pillow and screams into it.
The group breaks into chaotic laughter.
“We’re not even done,” Yanni says, clicking to the next slide.
Slide Seven: Just a text slide. White background. Black font.
"You’ve already talked to her." "You’ve already made her laugh." "And you’ve already said the stupidest thing she’s ever heard."
Jungkook drops the pillow. “WHAT DID I SAY?”
Yanni shrugs. “We’ll tell you someday.”
“WHEN?”
“When you deserve her,” Taehyung says with faux wisdom.
“You’re all evil,” Jungkook mutters, but he’s leaning forward again, face flushed, gaze soft.
“Final slide,” Jenna announces.
The screen goes black. Then—
Slide Eight: A shaky photo. You, walking just past Jungkook on campus. He’s facing the other way. You’re almost shoulder to shoulder — a moment in passing. Two near-strangers. One closet. Fate.
Caption: "You’re always looking the wrong way."
Jungkook stares.
For a long moment, no one says anything. The air buzzes.
“…She’s actually kind of short,” he murmurs.
Everyone turns to him slowly.
Jimin: “Just noticed?”
Jungkook’s voice goes soft. “The back of her neck… it’s—" He cuts himself off. “Never mind.”
“Oh, he’s GONE gone,” Yanni grins.
“You’re welcome,” Jenna says, unplugging the USB.
“We’ll see ourselves out,” Taehyung adds, grabbing the popcorn for the road.
Jimin claps Jungkook on the shoulder on the way out. “Good luck finding her, Romeo.”
Jungkook just stares at the blank TV screen, cheeks flushed, brain full of closet-stickered moments and glimpses of a girl he almost knows.
Jungkook stands in the middle of his room, arms limp at his sides, eyes fixed on the black TV screen like it’s going to flicker back on and bless him with another blurry, closet-covered glimpse of her.
He hasn’t moved since they left. Not even a breath.
Until—
“...I’m such an idiot.”
He says it out loud. To no one. Because no one else is in the room. Just him, and a ghost of a girl who might smell like vanilla and who maybe — maybe — wrote a reminder to herself on her hand with the same brand of pen he uses.
He collapses backward onto his bed with a groan and immediately drags a pillow over his face.
“I was right there,” he mumbles into the cotton. “I was literally right next to her. The same exact sidewalk. I was breathing the same air as her. What am I—some kind of visually impaired golden retriever?”
He flips over dramatically. Stares at the ceiling like it insulted him.
“How did I not notice her?”
Another beat.
“Why didn’t she say anything?” Pause. “Okay, no — that’s dumb. Why would she? ‘Hi, I’m the girl you fake-threatened to kiss in a closet while I was having a breakdown’ — yeah, great icebreaker, Jungkook. Really nailed that one.”
He groans again, dragging his hands through his hair and sitting up so quickly he nearly knocks his head on the wall.
He stares at the blank space where the photos had been just minutes earlier. The slideshow might be gone, but his mental image bank is full now. Every tiny detail they’d shown him — her in the library, at the quad, that little mark on her hand — all of it’s seared into his brain like it’s been tattooed.
“And she studies,” he mutters, like that’s the sexiest thing he’s ever heard. “And she wears oversized sweaters. And—God.” He leans forward, hands on his knees, eyes wide.
“She was laughing at something in that library photo. Was that her friend? Was it something they said? Or was she—”
A thought hits him.
“Wait,” he whispers, eyes narrowing. “Did I say something? Was I there? Was I—?”
He suddenly stands, pacing now. His room’s not big, but he’s working it like it’s a runway of shame.
“I can’t believe I flirted with her like that. What was I even thinking? ‘If you don’t stop moving I’m gonna kiss you’? Who SAYS THAT?”
He stops. Blinks.
“…Okay it was kind of smooth,” he admits. “But in a feral, what-the-hell-is-wrong-with-you kind of way.”
He drops into his desk chair, spinning in a slow, guilty circle.
“She didn’t even say anything,” he murmurs, voice quieter now. “She was just… breathing. Freaking out. And I was making it worse. Of course she wouldn’t tell me who she was after that. God.”
The spin slows. His voice gets softer.
“She was so close.”
He thinks of the photo — the one where he was turned away, and she was walking by.
Literally right beside him.
“Would I have looked at her differently if I’d known?” he whispers.
And then—he freezes.
Because his heart’s telling him no.
No. He would’ve stared at her anyway. He would’ve noticed how soft her laugh sounded under the music. How even panicking, she was kind of funny. How even in the dark, he could feel how smart she was. How real.
He doesn’t even know her name.
But she’s already ruined him.
He slumps back against the chair with a deep sigh, staring at the ceiling again.
“...I’m done for.”
A beat.
Then he grabs his phone.
Jungkook [to Jimin]: u have 24 hrs to turn over her name or I’m telling Yanni you used her serum and said nothing
Jimin [read] Jimin [typing...] Jimin: who’s to say I know her name?
Jungkook: YOU TOOK A WHOLE STALKER SLIDESHOW OF HER HER NAME. NOW.
Jimin: her name... is closet. closet jeon. your wife. congrats.
Jungkook tosses his phone onto his bed.
“Unbelievable.”
Still — his lips twitch.
Because even through the embarrassment, the obsession, the mystery… he’s smiling now.
Tiny. Stupid. Helpless.
“Closet Jeon,” he mumbles under his breath, shaking his head.
And for the first time in days, he falls asleep with a grin on his face.
Friday – 2:47 PM
Campus Café Patio
“Okay,” Jimin starts, sliding Jungkook a cold brew like it’s a sedative. “Don’t freak out.”
“Why would you even say that?” Jungkook deadpans, hoodie string caught between his teeth like emotional support. “Now I have to freak out.”
“Good,” Taehyung says, taking a loud slurp from his drink. “You’ve been weirdly calm for a man who got bested by a PowerPoint full of red-sweater thirst traps.”
“Shut up,” Jungkook mutters, snatching the drink.
He hasn’t stopped thinking about the slideshow. He didn’t even sleep properly last night — just lay there, blinking at his ceiling fan and whispering, “What if she reads books I’ve never heard of?” like a man haunted.
Now Jimin pulls out his phone, tapping the screen like he’s about to detonate something.
“Seriously,” he says. “Promise not to cry.”
“I hate you,” Jungkook replies, already nervous.
“Group project list,” Jimin announces, flipping the phone toward him.
Jungkook grabs it, scans the screen—and freezes.
Group 3:
Jeon Jungkook
Kim Taehyung
Lee Sunmi
Y/N L/N
It hits him like a shovel to the face.
He stares at the name. Then at Jimin.
Then back at the name.
“…You’re kidding.”
“Nope.”
“Her name is Y/N?” Jungkook says, voice rising with each syllable.
“That’s her.”
“YOU KNEW HER NAME THIS WHOLE TIME—?!”
Jungkook practically lunges over the table, the iced coffee jostling as he goes into a full-body meltdown.
“I’m in her group?! And you’re just telling me now?!”
“You weren’t listening,” Jimin shrugs.
“You weren’t even in class the day she got assigned,” Taehyung adds helpfully.
“Oh my God.”
Jungkook sits back down like gravity just gave up on him.
He stares straight ahead. Blankly. Mouth open.
“She was right there the whole time,” he mutters. “In my class. I could’ve figured this out two weeks ago if I’d just—paid attention.”
“You didn’t even know where the class was until midterms,” Jimin says.
“YOU GUYS—” Jungkook spins around to face them again. “Do you know what this means?! I’m in a group project with the literal girl of my dreams and I still don’t know what she looks like!”
Taehyung sighs. “Poetic suffering.”
“She’s just—Y/N. That’s it! I have no face to match. Just… cardigans. A pretty voice. Maybe a vanilla perfume. And this feeling like I got punched in the chest when she said my name.”
“You mean when she didn’t say your name,” Jimin says, deadpan.
“I AM LOSING MY MIND.”
Jungkook puts his head in his hands.
Taehyung pats his back solemnly. “Let it out.”
Meanwhile – 3:12 PM
East Side Lawn
“I cannot believe this,” you hiss, pacing through the grass like you’re on the verge of setting it on fire. “He knows my name now. My full government name. And he still doesn’t know it’s me.”
Yanni is lying in the sun, sunglasses on, eating a cake pop like this is her favorite telenovela. Jenna’s sitting next to her, holding a matcha latte and trying not to laugh.
“Maybe he’s just processing,” Jenna offers weakly.
“Processing WHAT?!” You throw your hands in the air. “The part where I SAT NEAR HIM EVERY MONDAY AND WEDNESDAY?!”
Yanni sighs, watching you like she’s mentally adding sound effects.
“Imagine how funny it’ll be when he finds out and actually combusts.”
“I was next to him in the LIBRARY,” you cry. “We shared oxygen, Yanni.”
Jenna giggles into her drink.
You spin back toward them. “And now we’re in a group project together? How am I supposed to survive that?”
“By being extremely normal and not making it weird,” Yanni says.
“I AM THE WEIRD,” you shout.
A group of freshmen walking by side-eye you. You don’t care. You’re in shambles.
“I bet he doesn’t even recognize my voice,” you mutter. “He probably thinks Closet Girl and I are two different people. I’m out here doing the academic equivalent of slow dancing in a burning room and he’s just... vaping.”
Jenna snorts.
Meanwhile – 3:14 PM
West Side Path — walking toward lecture
Jungkook walks between Jimin and Taehyung, eyes slightly glazed, hoodie back on, muttering something about "soulmate proximity blindness."
“She’s gonna think I’m an idiot,” he says. “What if she already hates me? What if she knew it was me the whole time and was just waiting for me to connect the dots—”
A shout echoes from across the green.
“HE KNOWS MY NAME AND STILL DOESN’T KNOW IT’S ME?!”
They all pause.
Taehyung glances over. “Was that…”
Jimin nods. “Definitely someone in her flop era.”
Jungkook raises an eyebrow, vaguely curious. “Huh. Wonder what her deal is.”
Taehyung and Jimin both stare at him.
Jimin drags a hand down his face.
“Seriously, how do you survive being you?”
Jungkook shrugs and keeps walking.
Behind him, a girl in a cardigan storms away across the lawn, arms flailing.
He doesn’t even glance back.
Wednesday – 10:09 AM
Media Studies Lecture Hall
Jungkook is sitting at the edge of his seat, leg bouncing, eyes flicking to the door every few seconds like he’s waiting for a prophecy to walk in.
But it doesn’t.
Not Monday. Not Tuesday. Not today.
Not her.
Not Y/N.
It’s been three straight classes, and her seat’s been empty. Her spot at their group table in the library? Also empty. Her name in the group chat? The only thing keeping him sane — but also driving him up the wall.
Because yes, okay, she’s still doing her part — sending in bullet-point outlines, responding to shared docs at 2AM, even cleaning up their slide formatting like an angel — but she isn’t here.
And Jungkook is losing his mind.
"She's literally a ghost again," he mutters, hunched over his desk.
Jimin, beside him, doesn’t even look up. “You’re obsessed.”
“I have to be. She vanished.”
“She’s obviously alive. She’s editing your grammar in the Google Doc in real time.”
“She changed my ‘there’ to the right version,” Jungkook says quietly. “She cares.”
Jimin sighs like this has happened before. It hasn’t.
“You’ve known her for a week,” he says.
“I’ve known of her for two.”
“Wow.”
“She said I use too many semicolons.”
“Hot.”
Jungkook slams his notebook shut and leans back in his seat with a dramatic groan. “Where is she?”
“She’s probably just—busy. Sick. Dead.”
Jungkook glares at him.
“…Or not dead,” Jimin adds quickly. “Probably not dead.”
Wednesday – 12:24 PM
Student Union Hallway
He’s walking out of lecture with a coffee he didn’t want and thoughts he didn’t ask for when—like fate herself intervening—a familiar voice cuts through the crowd.
“—I’m serious, I tried to bring her soup and she threatened me.”
It’s Jenna.
Jungkook’s head snaps toward her.
She’s laughing, phone in hand, walking past a table of student orgs like she owns the sidewalk.
Jungkook doesn’t even think — he just speed-walks.
“Hey—hey, Jenna, right?”
Jenna turns, surprised. “Uh—yeah?”
He stops short, breath hitching slightly. “You’re friends with Y/N.”
She blinks. “...Yes?”
“Where is she?”
Jenna looks vaguely alarmed.
“I mean—not in a creepy way,” Jungkook says quickly, hands raised. “I’m not, like—tracking her. Or obsessed. Or—” he stops, catches Jimin’s voice in his head: You’re obsessed. “Okay, fine, maybe a little obsessed, but—she hasn’t been in class. Or at the library. Or anywhere.”
Jenna tilts her head, then smiles slowly.
“She’s sick.”
Jungkook’s eyes widen like she just told him someone unplugged the moon.
“What?!”
“Sick. Like, legit sick. Fever, chills, coughing, the works. She’s been in bed for a week.”
He looks like she punched him in the gut.
“She’s been sick this whole time?” he mutters.
Jenna raises an eyebrow. “Did you think she was ghosting you?”
“No,” Jungkook lies. “...Kind of. I don’t know. I thought maybe she figured out I was a fraud who doesn’t know how to format MLA and decided to cut her losses.”
“She’s still doing the project.”
“I know,” he says. “That’s what makes it worse.”
Jenna laughs. “You’re so far gone it’s impressive.”
“I’m in hell,” Jungkook mutters. “I didn’t even know she was gone at first because I didn’t know what she looked like. I’m living a tragic slow-burn where I’m the idiot who can’t read the signs. Literally.”
“She told us you still don’t recognize her.”
“She WHAT?!”
“Relax.” Jenna smirks. “She’s not mad. Just a little feral.”
Jungkook drags a hand down his face.
“Okay,” he breathes. “I need to see her.”
“She can barely sit up.”
“I’ll stand across the room, Jenna. I just need—confirmation that she’s real.”
“You’re so dramatic.”
“She’s you-know-who.”
“Say it.”
“Closet Girl,” Jungkook groans.
Jenna laughs again and starts walking away. “Tell her you care by proofreading the citations. APA style.”
Jungkook stares after her, dazed, clutching his coffee like it betrayed him.
“…I’m gonna lose it,” he mumbles.
And when he walks off toward the library, he’s already drafting an apology paragraph he’ll never send.
Wednesday – 3:32 PM
Your Apartment – The Cave of Death™
Your blanket is trying to kill you.
It’s hot. You’re sweating. Your hoodie is clinging to your skin like emotional damage. But also, the moment you move even an inch away from the cocoon of warmth, your bones start shaking like you're being haunted.
You sniffle, swipe at your nose with a crumpled tissue, and attempt to type something coherent into the group project doc.
[Y/N]: Updated slide 6 for tone consistency & added sources. Someone check my fever logic pls, I may be hallucinating APA citations.
You hit send, then immediately fall sideways into your pillow with a dramatic groan.
You’re dying. This is how it ends. Not in a blaze of glory, but in a sea of half-finished NyQuil bottles, unanswered texts, and microwave oatmeal.
A knock sounds at the door.
You don’t move.
Another knock, followed by a muffled, “Y/N, open the door or I’m calling your mom.”
You croak, “I live alone for a reason.”
“Yeah, and I’m ignoring it. Unlock it before I use this soup as a weapon.”
You groan, drag yourself upright, and stagger to the door like you’re in a zombie film.
When you crack it open, Jenna stands there holding a Tupperware container and looking smug.
“Chicken noodle. Handmade. By someone’s grandma. Probably.”
“I told you not to come.”
“You said you’d throw me off the balcony,” she corrects, stepping inside. “That’s not legally binding.”
You shuffle back to the couch, already regretting this social interaction. Jenna plops down next to you, unbothered by your hoodie/blanket/disease ensemble, and places the soup in your lap.
“…I can’t taste anything,” you admit after your first spoonful.
“Perfect, now I don’t have to lie about how good it is,” she says brightly.
You weakly throw a pillow at her.
She catches it. “Also—I ran into your secret little enemy-lover boy today.”
Your brain short circuits.
“…What?”
“Jungkook.”
You choke. “I beg your pardon?!”
“He found me after class. Literally ran up to me and was like, ‘Where’s Y/N? Why isn’t she in class? What happened? Did she die? Am I the reason? Is she mad at me? Please, I’m on the verge.’”
You stare at her in absolute horror.
“He did not.”
“He absolutely did. Boy looked like he’d been sleep-paralysis-haunted by your empty chair.”
You slap your hands over your face. “I’m going to physically dissolve into the floor.”
Jenna leans in. “It gets worse.”
“Please don’t.”
“He looked—wrecked. Like flannel, messy bun, undereye bags for miles. I told him you were sick and he acted like I told him the sun died.”
You’re sweating again. And not just from the fever.
“He was asking about me?” you whisper, horrified.
“More like spiraling about you,” she corrects. “Something something—‘She’s still doing the project but she’s not here.’ And then I think he actually gasped when I told him you had a fever.”
You drop your head into your hands.
Jenna grins.
“I think he might actually like you.”
“I will never recover from this.”
She shrugs, reaching for your phone. “Good. Now drink the soup, text him something cute, and maybe finally admit to the group chat that you’re alive.”
“I can’t text him.”
“Why not?”
“Because then he’ll know I know.”
“...That made absolutely no sense.”
You throw yourself back into the couch, covering your face with the blanket in utter shame.
Jenna doesn’t say anything for a second. Then:
“He asked about your voice.”
You freeze.
“He said he remembered how your voice sounded in the closet. That it was soft. Nervous. And that it stuck in his head.”
You peek out from the blanket like a gremlin.
“Stop making stuff up,” you whisper.
“I’m not.”
You blink.
And then you’re fully under the blanket again, blushing so hard you’re about to pass out from emotional heatstroke.
Jenna laughs.
“God,” you mumble. “I was fine with suffering in peace. Why’d he have to go and be all—worried and hot and confused?”
She sips from your water bottle like it’s wine. “Because he’s whipped, babe. And you’re the reason.”
Tuesday – 10:52 AM
Campus Walkway, en route to Lecture Hall 3C
The sun is actually kind today.
It’s warm but not blistering, and the breeze smells like cheap cologne and last-minute panic — which is to say: peak college energy. You’re finally out of your apartment-shaped sickbay, hoodie swapped for a cute, normal outfit (though your lungs are still politely attempting murder).
Jenna and Yanni flank you like two caffeinated bodyguards.
“I’m just saying,” Jenna’s saying, sipping an iced coffee that’s more syrup than liquid, “if he sees you today, you better not do that weird little cough-laugh thing again.”
“I will literally collapse to the sidewalk,” you mutter.
“You’re not allowed to die until we get the project grade back,” Yanni adds cheerfully.
You’re so busy trying to breathe and walk and not spontaneously combust from knowing Jungkook might be in this building — you don’t even notice the trio of boys walking the opposite direction down the same path.
That is: until you nearly shoulder-check Park Jimin.
“Oh—sorry!” you blurt, stumbling a bit.
Jimin blinks, then lights up like a sunrise. “You’re good.”
Next to him, Taehyung raises his brow, already suppressing a knowing smirk. And behind them—
Jeon Jungkook.
Jeon. Closet. Motorcycle. Meltdown Jungkook.
He’s there. Laughing at something Jimin just said. Shoulders loose. Hair tucked under a hat. Hands in his pockets like he’s not a walking campus heart attack. He’s facing away from you, looking at his friends—unaware.
The gods smile upon you. (For now.)
You turn to your girls, keeping your tone casual: “If I pass out in a coat closet today, someone please check who gets sent in with me this time.”
It’s a joke. A throwaway joke.
But it slices through the air like a blade, lodging itself somewhere deep in the foggy back of Jungkook’s mind. He barely registers it. Just a voice. A sentence. A laugh that—
...No. Wait.
Wait, wait, wait.
The voice. That voice.
The second he turns around, you're already past him — laughing with your friends, steps light, legs moving, oxygen flowing like you didn’t just rip his sanity in half.
But Jungkook doesn’t answer. He’s still watching the space where you were, your words echoing in his brain like a siren:
“If I pass out in a coat closet today—”
Holy. Fucking. Shit.
It's her.
It was her.
“...No f**king way,” he mumbles, eyes wide.
Then: he spins on his heel and speed-walks away from his friends.
“Uh—Jungkook?” Jimin calls, watching him disappear across the quad.
“Is he okay?” Taehyung asks, genuinely baffled.
Tuesday – 10:58 AM
Campus Library – Men’s Bathroom Stall of Doom
Jungkook is sitting on a toilet seat.
Not to use it.
Not even to escape something like midterm grades, or the fact that he forgot his Econ quiz existed this morning.
No.
He is here for one reason, and one reason only: You. Closet Girl. The girl with the voice he hasn’t stopped hearing in his head for the past two weeks. And he just saw you. Walk right past him. Laughing.
And said that line.
"If I pass out in a coat closet today, someone please check who gets sent in with me this time."
His body reacted before his brain even finished processing it. Now he’s hiding in the stall like a shellshocked soldier, hunched forward with his hands pressed to his temples, trying to mentally reverse time.
It doesn’t work.
He lets out a small, strangled sound—somewhere between a wheeze and a wounded animal—and hits the back of his head against the wall.
“Fuck.”
How did he not see you?
You walked right by him. Right. There.
The voice, the laugh, that line—it all makes sense now. And worse: it had to have been intentional. You knew. You knew exactly who he was.
“Oh my god. She saw me. She heard me. She—oh my god.”
He yanks his phone out with trembling fingers and opens his group chat with Jimin and Taehyung.
JK: she said it JK: SHE SAID SOMETHING JK: SHE SAID A CLOSET THING JK: AND I FROZE JK: IM GONNA THROW UP JK: IM IN THE BATHROOM JK: I NEED A MEDIC
Typing bubbles appear. Then stop. Then appear again.
JM: LMAOOOO TH: we’re coming to the library JM: stay in the stall JM: we’re gonna slide a juice box under the door TH: powerade too if you promise not to cry on it
JK: I DESERVE THIS JK: SHE WAS RIGHT THERE JK: HER VOICE—SHE WAS RIGHT FKING THERE JK: and i didn’t say a word JK: i just stood there like a fking moss-covered rock
He drops the phone onto his lap and leans back against the wall like it’s the only thing keeping him upright. His ears are hot. His hands are clammy. His heart hasn’t stopped galloping like it’s trying to physically escape this stall and find you again.
You were so close.
He saw the back of your head.
He heard your voice again—and this time, he knows the face it belongs to. The girl he’s been imagining in flashes of memory for days was just inches from him, casually tossing out that callback like it didn’t just detonate every brain cell in his body.
And he just—
He did nothing.
Because of course he did. He’s Jungkook. World-class overthinker. Local emotionally constipated idiot. Professional regret-haver.
“God,” he mutters, dragging a hand down his face. “I f**king hate myself.”
He had so many chances to talk to you—at the party, in the closet, in class, in the library—and each time, he found a new and creative way to fail spectacularly.
But this?
This is next level.
Because you know who he is. And you were messing with him. And now the balance of power has officially shifted.
You’re not just some anonymous blur in his memory anymore. You’re real. You’re witty. You’re walking around campus knowing he’s been spiraling and still choosing to play it cool.
And he’s hiding in a f**king bathroom stall like a cartoon character on the verge of collapse.
Another buzz.
TH: do u want us to bring tissues JM: or a pacifier TH: i heard hugging a plushie helps too
JK: if u ever mention this again i’ll key ur dorm
But he’s not even mad.
He’s jealous. Of himself. For being in that closet. For having you that close and not realizing.
And now that he knows who you are—knows your voice, your laugh, your name—he’s going to make sure it doesn’t happen again.
Next time?
He’s not freezing. He’s not running. He’s not hiding in a f**king stall like an emotionally wrecked anime boy.
Next time, he’s saying something.
…maybe. After he stops hyperventilating.
Wednesday – 11:03 AM
Campus Courtyard, No One Is Safe
Jungkook doesn’t notice anything. Not the heat, not the crowd, not Jimin’s entire monologue about wanting to drop out and open a ramen truck in Guam.
He’s focused.
He’s scanning every face, every voice, every echo of a laugh. He’s got a phantom radar now—keyed into that voice, that energy, that feeling he got in the closet when someone panicked against his chest and called him names and still made him want to ruin his whole life for her.
And then—
A laugh.
Light, warm, real.
He freezes. A full-body stop like someone just yanked the emergency brake on his nervous system.
“That’s her.”
Jimin nearly walks into him. “What?”
“That’s her.” His voice is hoarse, like he’s been screaming into a void. “She’s here. Right there. Walking. That’s her.”
Taehyung squints ahead. “Ohhhh.”
You’re about ten steps away. Laughing with your friends, backpack slung casually over one shoulder, your sunglasses pushed up into your hair, voice carrying over the crowd like music.
And Jungkook?
He forgets how to function.
“Holy shit,” he breathes. “She’s real. She’s—oh my god, she’s right there.”
You haven’t seen him yet. You’re mid-conversation, glancing over your shoulder at something Yanni said. And in that second— That tiny, stupid second— He watches your face light up with a grin so devastatingly gorgeous he feels violently unprepared.
He genuinely considers just—
Grabbing you. Throwing you over his shoulder. Walking into the sunset with no plan, no idea where to go, just you and him and a head full of chaos.
But he doesn’t move.
Because you’re coming closer. Like some kind of cruel, slow-motion dream.
He watches the way your mouth moves when you talk. The way you throw your head back when you laugh. The way your fingers lift to adjust your necklace and his entire brain just short-circuits.
“Jungkook,” Jimin whispers, “you’re shaking.”
“I am not,” Jungkook lies, hands absolutely trembling at his sides. “I’m fine. I’m—oh god, she’s looking over—what do I do?”
“Say hi?” Taehyung offers.
“Like a normal person?” Jimin adds.
“I don’t remember how to do that.”
Then—
You glance up. Right at him. Eyes locking.
He stops breathing.
Your smile falters just a bit. Like you’re surprised. Caught off guard. Your friends look between you and him—a little too smugly—and then...
You start to turn. Like you’re about to keep walking.
“NOPE,” Jungkook blurts.
He takes a massive step forward. Hand out like he might grab you (he won’t—he will—he’s not sure).
You pause.
Turn back slightly.
Eyebrow raised.
He opens his mouth to say anything, but his brain is melting under pressure, and the only thing he manages is—
“You’re her.”
You blink. “...Sorry?”
He steps closer. No hesitation now. The chaos in his head is full volume.
“You. It’s you. I know it’s you. You said the closet thing. The party. You—you’re Closet Girl. You’re Closet Girl.”
Your eyes widen. Your friends? Howling. Yanni is physically shaking Jenna by the shoulders.
And you?
You just stare at him.
“Do you always announce people like that?” you ask, smirking.
“I—yes. No. Only when they’ve haunted my dreams for three weeks.”
Silence.
DEAD silence.
He freezes.
“...I didn’t mean that. That came out wrong. I mean it didn’t but—”
“No, I get it,” you say, grinning now, stepping closer. “I’m flattered.”
He almost dies on the spot.
He’s breathing so fast he’s pretty sure he’s going to pass out on the sidewalk. The sun is too bright. You’re too close. Your voice is too real.
And then—
You lean in a little. Lower your voice.
“By the way,” you murmur, “if I pass out in a coat closet today… check who gets sent in with me.”
…
The words land like a direct hit. A bomb to his chest. A kiss to his brain stem.
You turn.
Walk past him.
Gone.
Just like that.
He doesn’t move.
He can’t.
He stands there, mouth open, brain fried, skin buzzing like a TV left on static.
Taehyung walks over and gently pats him on the back.
“Should’ve thrown her over your shoulder, bro.”
Jungkook sinks into the earth.
Friday – 4:41 PM
Campus Library, Back Left Corner — The “Comfy” Table
You are already seated.
Tea in your mug, laptop open, sweatshirt two sizes too big, and a pen tucked behind your ear even though you’re not using it. Your hair is a little messy. Your socks are mismatched. You’re in your natural, undisturbed, study-goblin form.
Where are Jenna and Yanni?
Oh, they said they’d be late. Some excuse about Jenna’s lab partner setting off the fire alarm in chem, and Yanni needing to print something.
You didn’t question it.
You really should have.
Because at 4:46 PM, someone walks around the corner of the bookshelf behind you — the one that blocks off the little study nook you always sit at — and you hear the familiar rustle of fabric and faint squeak of sneakers and think no. way.
Your eyes lift.
And standing there, confused as hell, eyes wide and bag slung over one shoulder like he just stepped into the Twilight Zone—
Jeon Jungkook.
The world freezes.
Him: wide-eyed, blinking, breath caught halfway through a sentence he didn’t get to start.
You: sitting there in your dumb big hoodie with your tea and your notes and your soul leaving your body.
“…Hi?” you manage.
He stares for a second. Like his brain short-circuited.
“I don’t—okay, I didn’t think this was real.”
You frown. “What?”
He steps closer, looking around like he’s been tricked. “Yanni texted me and said Taehyung told her this was his new secret study spot.”
“…That’s not real.”
“That’s what I’m realizing now,” he mutters.
You narrow your eyes. “Wait, so she sent you here—knowing I’d be here—pretending it was for Taehyung?”
He nods.
You both go silent.
Then at the same time:
“They set us up.”
He drops into the chair across from you like he’s just run a marathon through betrayal.
“I knew Jimin was being weird when he made me buy gum and then told me to ‘freshen up emotionally.’”
You choke. “What does that even mean?”
“I still don’t know!”
You both break into laughter—nervous, giddy, chaotic.
And now you’re here.
Across from him. Alone. No friend buffers. No parties. No closet doors.
Just a table. A tea mug. And Jeon Jungkook’s very unfair face staring directly at you.
“So…” he says slowly, folding his hands in front of him, “this is your secret spot?”
You nod. “Where I pretend I’m smarter than I am.”
He grins. “You helped finish that whole project while you were sick. You’re smart.”
You try not to melt. Fail.
“What, you stalking my Canvas activity now?”
“Yes,” he says immediately.
You blink. “Wait—really?”
He looks horrified. “I mean—no! I mean maybe. I just—Jimin kept checking it, and I was near him, and—”
You raise a brow. He slouches in defeat.
“…I might have checked it once.”
A beat.
Then, you smile. “That’s cute.”
He leans back in the chair, gaze warm. “You think I’m cute?”
You sip your tea. “I said what I said.”
“Okay, closet girl.”
You groan. “We are never escaping that nickname, are we?”
“Not a chance.”
Silence again—but a good one. Your fingers tap the ceramic of your mug. He watches you like you’re a constellation or something equally impossible.
Then—
“Can I ask you something?” he says softly.
You glance up. “Sure.”
“…Why didn’t you tell me sooner? That you were you?”
You hesitate. Then: “I don’t know. I guess… it was fun watching you try.”
He bites his lip to hide a grin.
“You’re evil,” he says.
You lean in a little, resting your chin on your hand.
“You like it.”
And the way he looks at you in that exact second—
Yeah. You’re not getting out of this alive.
“You like it.”
That’s what you said. Still smirking. Still dangerous.
And Jungkook? Yeah. He’s down bad. Leaning back in the chair, hoodie sleeves pushed to the elbows, rings catching in the low light like they’re flirting with you too.
“I do,” he says finally, voice softer. “I really do.”
You blink.
He leans forward again, resting his forearms on the table, head tilted slightly like he’s trying to read between the lines on your face.
“So… do you always mess with guys like this? Or am I special?”
You raise an eyebrow, feigning casual. “Depends. Do most guys act like broken Roombas when they realize they’ve been tricked?”
He gasps. “I was composed!”
“You almost passed out.”
“I was managing my blood pressure in an emotionally complex environment.”
“Is that what we’re calling it?”
He grins, clearly biting back a laugh.
God, he’s infuriatingly hot when he laughs. Head thrown back just slightly. That little dimple you forgot about. It’s not fair.
“So,” he says again, tapping the table lightly. “If I ask you something, will you promise not to make fun of me?”
You narrow your eyes. “Absolutely not.”
“Okay, fair.” He scratches the back of his neck. “I was just wondering…”
You wait.
He looks up at you through his lashes, the picture of faux innocence.
“…Have you always looked at me like that in lecture?”
You blink. “Like what?”
“Like you were trying to figure out if I’m a hallucination or just dumb.”
Your jaw drops.
“I don’t—!”
“You do,” he teases. “You tilt your head, and your eyebrows do this little—like—confused judgment arch.”
“Stop watching my eyebrows!”
“I’m a visual learner,” he says seriously.
You cover your face with your hands.
He laughs again. “Okay, okay—serious question this time.”
You peek at him between your fingers.
He bites his bottom lip, nervous energy crackling around him like static.
“Do you wanna hang out?” he says quickly. “Like—not in a closet. Or a group project. Just—like. You. Me. Not studying. Unless that’s your idea of fun, in which case I will absolutely pretend I care deeply about citation formatting.”
You blink.
Then blink again.
“…Are you asking me out?”
“I’m asking you out.”
You stare.
He stares.
Your heartbeat is suddenly in your mouth.
Then—
You set your mug down, leaning forward just slightly, eyes bright.
“Well,” you say slowly, “I do have a very compelling spreadsheet about medieval textile trade routes.”
He smiles. Wide. Dimples. Game over.
“Can I bring snacks?”
You nod. “You bring the food, I’ll bring the trauma.”
Jungkook grins. “Perfect. A balanced meal.”
He glances around, suddenly noticing the time.
“Wait, how long do your friends usually leave you here alone?”
You smirk. “Exactly long enough for this.”
His eyes narrow, smile curling. “They’re trying to kill me.”
You sip your tea. “They’re succeeding.”
Silence.
“…So when do I see you again?”
You blink. “You’re not sick of me yet?”
He leans in again, voice low, just for you:
“I haven’t even started.”
Reader’s Dorm – A Friday Night, 8:17 PM
(Project Due: Monday) (Jungkook’s attention span: in hell)
“I’m begging you,” you groan, flicking the corner of his textbook. “Please, for the love of God and your GPA, just read the page.”
“I read the page.”
“You read the chapter title.”
“That’s the most important part!”
You look up from your laptop and level him with the flattest expression you can muster. He’s lying down on your bed — textbook open across his chest, hoodie sleeves pushed up, one sock halfway off like he lost a battle mid-reading.
“You haven’t even moved your highlighter in fifteen minutes.”
“I’m conserving ink,” he says seriously.
You nearly throw your pen at him.
“Jungkook.”
“Y/N.”
“I will break up with you for academic negligence.”
He sits up, grinning, like that’s the funniest thing you’ve ever said.
“You’d miss me in like half a day.”
“Try me.”
“You’d miss me in half a minute,” he says, now crawling to the edge of the bed like a cat with too much serotonin. “You’d miss my hoodie. My Spotify. My hand—”
“Focus!” You shove a pillow at his face.
He collapses back dramatically, arms spread like a martyr.
“I can’t,” he groans into the pillow. “You’re here. And you smell good. And you keep doing that thing where you bite your lip when you’re concentrating and it’s illegal.”
You pause. “I do not.”
“You do.”
“I do not—!”
“You’re doing it right now.”
Your jaw snaps shut so fast you actually wince.
He peeks over the pillow, victorious.
“…Stop being hot,” he says, pouty. “It’s ruining my academic integrity.”
You roll your eyes, standing to grab the paper instructions from your desk. “You don’t have academic integrity.”
“I did! Until I got a hot girlfriend and a dopamine disorder.”
You shove the rubric in his face.
“Two more sections. Minimum three references. Double spaced. Come on.”
He takes it, pouts again, and grabs his pen.
You watch him finally — finally — start writing, shoulders hunched, lips pursed, tongue peeking out at the corner like he’s solving a CIA file.
And then—
He pauses.
Turns his head toward you.
“You know what’s crazy?”
You brace yourself. “Always.”
He shifts onto his side again, grinning so hard it’s almost obnoxious.
“I don’t need a closet to kiss you anymore.”
You freeze.
Then: your eyes narrow.
He wiggles his brows. “What? It’s a win for progress.”
“You’re the worst.”
“I’m the best.”
“You’re not getting a kiss.”
“I’m already moving in.” He lays down dramatically again. “This is my bed now. You can come visit me.”
You cross your arms. “You didn’t answer your discussion question.”
“I discussed the important part.” He reaches for your hand. “Like how lucky I am. And how beautiful you look in sweatpants. And how I would absolutely let you ruin my life if you asked nicely.”
You snort, letting him pull you onto the bed beside him.
“…You’re a menace.”
“And you’re in love with me.”
You glance down at him.
He’s got ink smudged on his hand. Hair pushed back. Textbook pages wrinkled where he crumpled them trying to turn too fast.
And he’s looking at you like you personally invented the stars.
“…Maybe,” you say softly.
He grins.
Then —
“Kiss me.”
You blink. “You just said you didn’t need a closet.”
“I know,” he whispers, leaning closer.
“I want to kiss you because I don’t need a closet.”
And when you finally do — when you lean in and press your mouth to his, slow and warm and gentle — he hums like he’s just unlocked a cheat code in life.
Your pen clatters to the floor. His textbook slides off the bed. Neither of you notice.
Tattoo Artist!Bang Chan x Reader | Ink-stained hands. Hoodie mornings. He marked you with his initial and fucked you like he meant forever
🔞synopsis: Tattoo Artist AU. One letter. One fucking letter. You sit on his counter in his hoodie, typing invoices, and Chan can’t stop staring — at your bare skin, at the way you’ve never let anyone touch you like that, at the way you’re about to let him mark you. His initial, on your ring finger. C. It’s supposed to be quick. Clean. Just a tattoo. But Chan’s a menace with veiny hands and a filthy mouth, and you’re his — his girl, his wife-to-be, his baby mama before either of you even realize it. Tattoo ink, sweat, messy kisses, and him whispering filth against your skin like he’s worshiping you. And later? Sunlight, pancakes and a velvet ring box.
💌a/n: WOW. WE FUCKING DID IT. The last fic of the Tattoo Artist AU is HERE, and holy shit, what a way to close it out. Yeah. I wrote this grinning like a menace the whole damn time. Thank you for riding this ink-stained, veiny-handed rollercoaster with me, you whores and sluts — you’ve been feral, loud, and absolutely unhinged in the BEST way, and I love you for it 💋. Chan’s fic had me extra soft and disgusting in love because he’s so domestic while still being THE filthiest man alive. So yeah, I hope you love this sticky-soft mess as much as I loved writing it.
p.s. Reblog like your life depends on it, sluts🖤
p.p.s. Next stop: SQUID GAME AU because clearly I clearly can't stop.
p.p.p.s. No, I’m not normal about this man and no, I won’t ever be. Thanks for asking.
⚠️ warnings: 18+ ONLY | MINORS DNI | Established relationship / long-term domestic filth | Tattoo scene (consensual, soft Chan being meticulous) | Oral (f. receiving), fingering, overstimulation | Protected? LMAO nope. Breeding kink. Creampie. Pregnancy. Wrap it up in real life whores | Praise, possessiveness, soft feral Chan energy | Counter sex (shop & kitchen), messy kisses, filthy dirty talk | Chan being clingy, soft, and lovesick to the point of feral | Proposal + pregnancy reveal (domestic fluff overload)
📌 Please read responsibly. Hydrate. Breathe. Thank your tattoo artist. Sit on his lap later.
You’d known Bang Chan long before the words NO SAINT INK ever got painted across the front window.
Back then, it was just an idea — a rough sketch in one of his notebooks, coffee stains on the corner, his messy handwriting scrawled next to crude machine diagrams. He was still working out of a cramped backroom studio at the time, doing flash tattoos for cheap just to save enough for something bigger. He’d talk about it constantly, eyes lighting up in that way they always did when he believed in something too much to let it go.
"One day, I’ll have my own shop. Not just a shop — a family. A place people feel safe walking into. Somewhere that feels alive."
You’d smiled at him from across that coffee-stained notebook, already half in love with him then.
And somehow, you became part of it all before you even realized what was happening.
You weren’t a tattoo artist — you weren’t even in that world at first. You’d met through mutual friends, hit it off instantly, and before long you were the one keeping him company during late-night sketch sessions, organizing his invoices when he couldn’t figure out his own system, and ordering takeout when he forgot to eat.
Chan had this way of making you feel like you’d always belonged in his life. He’d tease you endlessly, call you his “unofficial business manager” even when you weren’t actually on his payroll. Somewhere between long nights spent helping him research licensing laws and drunken 2 AM confessions about your dreams, you’d fallen for him.
The first time he kissed you was on the shop floor of what would later become NO SAINT INK — back when it was still just an empty building with peeling paint and dust on the windows. You’d been sitting cross-legged on the bare floor, laughing about how ugly the place looked, and he’d just leaned in, kissed you like it was the most natural thing in the world.
"Guess we’ll make it pretty together, huh?" he’d said after, forehead pressed to yours.
The years after that were a blur of paint-stained clothes, takeout containers, and the kind of exhaustion that only comes from chasing a dream. You helped him sand down tables, choose paint colors, set up booking systems, and — maybe most importantly — keep his books balanced when the shop finally opened and started booming.
By the time he’d hired Jisung, Minho, Seungmin, and the rest of the crew, you were already his. Not just his girlfriend — you were the person who made this entire world possible for him.
He’d tell you that all the time.
"This place wouldn’t exist without you."
"You’re the only reason I haven’t burned out."
"You’re my home, you know that, right?"
And you believed him because you felt the same. You lived together now, shared a quiet little apartment above a bakery a few blocks away, and most nights ended with you curled against his chest while he sketched designs in bed.
The thing about Chan was that even after all these years, even after all the late nights and busy schedules, he still looked at you like he couldn’t believe you were real.
And yet... Despite living with one of the most talented tattoo artists in the city, you didn’t have a single piece of ink on you. Not one.
Everyone at NO SAINT INK teased you about it. Jisung had made it his personal mission to convince you to let him do a little flower on your ankle. Seungmin swore you were secretly afraid of needles. Minho had bet Chan a week of free lunches that you’d cave eventually.
But Chan?
Chan loved it.
"You’re perfect like this," he’d murmur sometimes, brushing his fingers over your bare skin. "Untouched. Mine to mark first, whenever you let me."
And you’d roll your eyes, laugh it off, because you weren’t avoiding tattoos out of fear — you just hadn’t found anything that felt right. You’d promised yourself that your first tattoo would be something that mattered. Something permanent, like a milestone in your life.
You didn’t know it yet, but tonight would be that milestone.
The shop was quiet now, just the low hum of the lights and the soft tapping of your fingers on your laptop keys. You were perched on the counter, cross-legged in one of Chan’s hoodies, glaring at the screen as you typed in numbers.
"Channie, do you seriously need to order this much black ink? You’re going through cartridges like water."
Chan, leaning against his workbench with his arms folded, just grinned at you — that soft, amused grin that made his dimple peek out.
"You know I’m still not over the fact you don’t have a single tattoo? My own girlfriend — living with me, dating me for years… and still pure. Untouched."
You glanced up, arching a brow. "Well, you never had the time to do it, Mr. Overbooked Shop Owner."
He tilted his head, smirk deepening. "Oh, I have time tonight. I want to be the first, baby. The only."
You closed the laptop, heart thumping for reasons you couldn’t quite explain.
And then you said it.
"Then… give me your initial. Right here."
You held up your left ring finger.
"C."
Chan froze. His eyes widened slightly, his playful grin faltering into something softer, almost stunned. When he spoke, his voice was quiet. "You’re gonna kill me, you know that? My initial, on your finger… you’re actually trying to ruin me, huh?"
You watched him carefully — the way his fingers flexed against his folded arms, the way his mouth opened just slightly like he wanted to say something but couldn’t.
"Chan?"
He blinked, snapped out of it, and his grin returned — softer now, almost shy around the edges. "You’re serious? You actually want my initial? On your finger?"
You shrugged like it wasn’t a big deal, though your heart was hammering against your ribs. "Why not? Seems fitting. You’re the one drowning in ink all day, anyway. Might as well leave your mark on me properly."
The look he gave you then? Wrecked.
"You have no idea what you just did to me, baby." He his hand came up to gently hold your wrist, thumb brushing your ring finger as if he was already tattooing it in his mind. You rolled your eyes and turned back to your laptop, typing a little too quickly to hide your own flustered grin. "Yeah, well, you can have your emotional breakdown later, Mr. Clingy. I need to finish these numbers before you overspend on needles again."
Chan didn’t move away. Of course he didn’t — he never did.
Instead, he dragged one of the rolling stools closer and sat right next to you, his knee bumping yours. He was always close, always touching — even now, he leaned his arm against your thigh as if the contact grounded him.
But his mind was clearly elsewhere.
You heard the soft rustle of paper, and when you glanced down, Chan had already grabbed a fresh sheet from his sketchpad.
"What are you doing?"
"Shhh," he murmured, already grabbing a nearby pencil. His brows furrowed in concentration, lips pressing together. "Cursive or block? Thin line? Micro script or thicker strokes? I want it to look perfect."
You snorted. "Chan, it’s literally just the letter C."
"Not just a letter," he shot back, not even looking up, pencil already gliding over the page. "It’s going on you. It’s… fuck, it’s going to be on your hand, angel. Everyone’s gonna see it. It has to be right."
You bit your lip to hide the smile pulling at your mouth, watching as his fingers moved quickly, sketching out variations of the letter like he was designing a whole damn mural.
You’d seen Chan sketch a million times before, but this was different — he was dialed in, hyper-focused.
Chan’s tattooing style had always been clean precision combined with emotional storytelling. Somehow he always made it perfect. His line work was razor-sharp, soft where it mattered and it was needed, even his boldest designs felt delicate. His specialty? Fine-line realism mixed with abstract accents. Imagine feathers that looked like that they could blow away in the wind, roses with petal tips melting into geometric shading, animal portraits with splashes of watercolor ink behind them. His signature touch? Hidden details only the person having the tattoo would notice. They could be tiny initials woven into a flower stem, microscopic constellations tucked into shading, and so on. They were always meaningful but discreet.
And right now, Chan was pouring all of that into a single letter.
"Your hand is small, so micro-script will suit you better. But if I make the serif too sharp, it’ll look harsh, and I don’t want harsh on you," he murmured half to himself, scratching out a version before starting again. "Cursive feels more… personal. But if I make it slanted too much, it might age weird. No, no, I’ll—"
"Chan."
"Hmm?"
"You’re overthinking a single letter."
"I’m tattooing my fucking initial on my girlfriend’s finger, babe. I’m allowed to overthink."
You laughed, shaking your head, but you didn’t stop him. Honestly? Watching him obsess over it like this made your chest ache in a way you couldn’t explain. Chan finally glanced up, brown eyes soft, voice dropping lower. "You trust me with this? Really?"
"I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t."
His jaw tightened for a moment, and he gave you a look that made your heart flip. "Okay, honey," he said quietly, thumb brushing your knee. "Let me mark you."
You watched him as he switched from the paper sketch to his iPad, pulling it closer with a determined little huff. His brows furrowed in concentration, his lower lip caught between his teeth as he dragged his Apple Pencil in smooth, decisive strokes.
It was ridiculous, how serious he looked — this was one letter, and yet he was treating it like he was designing a full back piece for a celebrity client.
"Stop staring," he muttered without looking up, voice soft, teasing.
"Can’t help it. You’re cute when you’re obsessing."
Chan’s ears flushed, but he didn’t break focus, swiping through brushes until he found the exact weight he wanted. "Not cute. Perfect. This has to be perfect."
"For a C."
"For my C," he corrected immediately, glancing up with that look that always made your stomach flip — the one that was soft and wrecked all at once, like he couldn’t believe you were real. You tried not to smile too much, leaning back slightly and pretending to focus on your laptop. But your fingers hovered over the keys instead of typing, watching as he tilted the screen toward you.
"Okay, look — final version. Clean cursive, micro-script, no harsh edges. Soft curves to match your hand. What do you think?"
The letter was delicate, elegant — a tiny looping C that looked like it had been written by hand just for you. Which, of course, it had.
"It’s perfect."
The corner of his mouth lifted, just slightly, but his eyes softened in that way they always did when you said something that got to him.
"Perfect on you, yeah," he murmured, hitting print before you could respond.
The little thermal printer by his workbench spat out the stencil sheet, and Chan moved, slipping it into his setup like he’d done a thousand times before — except this time, every motion felt slower, more deliberate, because it was you.
"Save your work, honey," he said suddenly, glancing at your still-open laptop.
"I—what? You’re really doing this right now?"
"You think I’m gonna let you change your mind? Not a chance." He grinned, soft but sure, already pulling on his black nitrile gloves. "Come on. Let me mark you before I lose my mind."
You couldn’t help laughing, shaking your head as you hit save and closed the laptop. The reality of it was starting to hit you now — you were about to let Bang Chan tattoo you.
Not just any tattoo — his initial. On your ring finger.
He offered you his hand like you were going somewhere far more serious than just across the shop. His palm was warm and he squeezed your fingers gently as he guided you toward the main studio room. The air in there was cooler and smelled like disinfectant and ink — Chan’s world, his kingdom.
He motioned for you to sit on the padded chair, pulling his rolling stool close. Of course he was close, always close, his knee brushing yours as he adjusted the footrest for you.
"Comfy?" he asked softly, his usual teasing tone replaced by something almost reverent.
"You’re acting like I’m about to get a whole sleeve."
"You’re letting me put my initial on your hand, angel. That’s bigger than a sleeve."
You rolled your eyes, but your chest felt warm in a way you couldn’t ignore.
Chan pressed the stencil gently to your ring finger, his thumb brushing the side of your hand as he smoothed it down. His touch lingered even after he peeled the paper away, leaving behind the faint purple outline of the letter.
He stared at it for a long moment, quiet, his gloved fingers tracing the air above it without touching.
"Looks good on you already," he whispered, mostly to himself before moving away to start preparing.
Chan snapped on a fresh pair of black gloves, the sound sharp in the quiet room. You watched him move through his setup with practiced precision — disinfecting the area, lining up his ink caps, adjusting the needle depth like muscle memory. He was in work mode now, but his eyes kept flicking back to your hand like he couldn’t believe this was real.
“Won’t take long,” he murmured, voice softer than usual. “But I want it clean. No rushing.” He glanced up at you, the corners of his eyes soft, before bending back to his work.
The machine buzzed to life, low and steady, and Chan adjusted his stool closer until his knee pressed against yours. He rested your hand gently in his gloved one, thumb brushing over your knuckles before he spoke again.
“Tell me if you need a break, okay? Even if it’s just for a second.”
“Chan, it’s one letter. I’ll survive.”
He smirked, head tilted, dimple flashing for half a second. “Doesn’t mean I won’t take care of you.”
And finally, he lowered the needle to your skin. The first sting made you inhale sharply, and immediately Chan glanced up, the machine pausing mid-line.
“Too much?”
You shook your head quickly. “No, keep going. Just… feels weird.”
His mouth quirked slightly, a soft, amused look flashing across his face before he focused again. His left hand steadied yours while his right moved with quick, sure motions — the way he always tattooed, precise but fluid. Watching him like this was different. You’d seen Chan tattoo other people countless times, but there was something about the way he worked on you — the way his thumb kept rubbing slow circles against your palm, how his eyes softened every time they darted up to check on you.
“You’re doing good, honey,” he said quietly over the hum of the machine. “Almost done with the outline.”
You couldn’t help smiling. “I told you I’d survive.”
Chan huffed a quiet laugh, leaning closer as he wiped the excess ink away. His gloved thumb lingered for a second longer than necessary before he dipped back into the cap.
Every line he pulled felt heavier than usual. Not because of difficulty — this was easy work for him — but because of what it meant.
You. His name. On your ring finger.
His mind kept flashing with thoughts he couldn’t say out loud:
My initial. On her hand. Forever. She’s really letting me do this. She’s mine. She’s really mine.
And worse — he kept thinking about the little velvet box hidden in his desk drawer at home, about how he’d been planning to propose soon anyway. Now? He had to actively fight the urge to pull the ring out tonight.
“Done,” Chan finally said after another careful wipe, voice quieter than usual. He switched off the machine and set it aside, holding your hand up gently like it was something fragile.
The tiny cursive C sat perfectly on the side of your ring finger — simple, clean, elegant.
You tilted your head, smiling softly. “That’s it?”
“That’s it,” he echoed, still staring at it. He didn’t let go of your hand, his gloved fingers tracing just above the fresh ink, not daring to touch it yet. His throat worked as he swallowed.
“Chan,” you said with a laugh, “you’re staring at it like you just won an award.”
He looked up at you then, and his expression made your heart skip — soft, overwhelmed, a little wrecked.
“Feels like I did,” he said simply.
He finally peeled off his gloves, tossing them into the bin, but his hands were back on you immediately, holding your wrist like he needed to ground himself.
“Gonna clean it and wrap it,” he murmured, his voice dropping lower now. “Then… then I’m probably gonna kiss you stupid, just warning you.”
You laughed, cheeks warm. “You’re ridiculous.”
Chan’s grin turned into something softer, hungrier. “You just let me put my name on you, baby. You have no idea what that does to me.”
He reached for a clean pad of gauze, his hands moving with that same tattoo-artist precision — but his eyes never left yours. He dabbed gently at the ink, careful not to press too hard, and you could feel how soft his touch was, how deliberate.
“Does it hurt?” he asked quietly.
“Barely,” you said, smiling. “You’re good at this, you know.”
His mouth twitched into a small, crooked grin. “Better be. I’m not letting my first piece on you heal ugly.”
He set the gauze aside and grabbed the ointment, squeezing out the smallest amount before rubbing it across the fresh ink with slow, tender strokes. His fingers lingered, spreading the balm with feather-light movements, and for a moment, it didn’t feel like he was working — it felt like he was touching.
You tilted your head at him, amused. “You do this for all your clients, or am I getting special treatment?”
Chan didn’t even look up, his thumb brushing over your hand with an almost possessive weight. “No one else gets this soft. No one else gets me like this.”
When he finally wrapped the finger with clean film, he pressed a kiss to the bandaged spot before he could stop himself.
“There,” he murmured against your skin, his voice low and reverent. “My C. Looks right on you.”
You laughed softly, trying to tease the tension away. “Chan, it’s literally a letter. You’re acting like—”
But before you could finish, his hands were on your thighs, sliding up slowly as he stepped between your knees. His gaze locked on yours, darker now, his usual soft warmth edged with something else entirely.
“Like what?” he asked, voice dropping, rougher now.
You blinked up at him. “Like… like you’re losing your mind.”
He leaned closer, his forehead nearly touching yours, his hands gripping your waist now. “That’s because I am, honey. You don’t get it, do you?”
“Get what?”
His thumb brushed over the bandaged finger, lingering. “You just let me put my name on your ring finger. My initial. Forever. And you’re sitting here acting like it’s casual.”
You opened your mouth to say something, but Chan cut you off with a quiet, frustrated groan, his lips brushing your jaw as he spoke again.
“You’re mine, angel. Always were. But this? Fuck—this is proof. You marked yourself for me, and now I can’t stop thinking about how much I want to…”
He trailed off, pulling back just enough to look at you, his eyes blown wide and hungry.
“Want to what?” you asked, heart hammering.
“Worship you. Ruin you. Both,” he said, voice low and trembling slightly, like he was barely holding himself back. “Can I?”
You didn’t even get to answer properly — the second your hand slid up his chest in silent permission, Chan kissed you. Hard.
He grabbed your hips, pulling you forward on the padded chair until you were right against him, his hands gripping like he was terrified you’d slip away. His mouth moved against yours with the same obsessive precision he tattooed with — deep, focused, possessive.
When he finally pulled back for air, he pressed his forehead to yours, breathing hard. “You have no idea how bad I’ve wanted this. Years, angel. Years of staring at you in my hoodies, doing my books, taking care of me… and now you’re sitting here with my letter on your finger—fuck, you’re perfect.”
One of his hands slid under the hem of your hoodie, warm against your skin, his thumb brushing teasing circles on your waist. For a moment, he stared. Stared at you before suddenly, picking you up with ridiculous ease, sitting you back on the counter where you’d been earlier, his hands gripping your thighs possessively. His kisses turned messier, desperate, his mouth moving from your lips to your jaw to the spot below your ear that made you gasp.
“That’s it,” he murmured against your skin, his voice rough, his words spilling out in a low, feral growl. “Gonna make you feel how much I love you. Gonna make you remember this every time you look at that little C.” Chan’s hands were firm on your thighs as he stepped between them. His mouth was everywhere — hot, urgent kisses along your jaw, nips at your neck that made your breath hitch.
“Chan—” you gasped between kisses, trying to catch your breath as his hands slipped under your hoodie again, palms spreading over your waist. “Wait, what if Minho’s upstairs? He’s gonna hear us—”
Chan pulled back just enough to look at you, his grin crooked and sinful, his breath already rough. “Nope. He isn’t. He’s out with Jisung and Felix—fuck knows where, probably terrorizing someone at karaoke. We’re alone, angel. Completely alone.”
Your protest died in your throat when his fingers curled into the hem of your hoodie, tugging it upward.
“Then—Chan—”
“Then nothing,” he interrupted, voice low, almost a growl. “You’re mine tonight. All mine.”
And with that, he pulled the hoodie off in one smooth motion, tossing it carelessly to the side. His hands were immediately back on you, tracing the curve of your waist like he couldn’t decide whether to worship or devour you.
“Fuck,” he breathed, his eyes drinking you in. “Every time I see you like this, I wonder how I got this lucky. My girl. My everything.”
You opened your mouth to say something, but the words melted into a soft gasp when his lips found your collarbone, kissing down slowly, deliberately, as if he was marking you everywhere.
His hands roamed everywhere — palms sliding over your back, fingers squeezing your hips, his thumbs brushing circles on your thighs like he couldn’t stop touching you for even a second.
“You’re shaking,” he murmured against your skin, his breath hot where his mouth pressed against your neck.
“I’m not—”
“You are,” he cut in, smirking against your skin, his voice dropping lower. “You’re worked up just from me touching you.”
You tried to roll your eyes, but it came out more like a whimper when his hand slid higher, fingers brushing under the band of your bra.
“Chan,” you warned, though your tone was anything but serious.
“Yeah?” His grin was pure trouble as he finally slid the strap off your shoulder. “Something you need, honey?”
His fingers hooked into the waistband of your leggings, tugging teasingly.
“Gonna take these off,” he said, his voice low and rough, eyes flicking to yours for permission even as his hands moved. “Need to see you. Need to feel you.”
“Chan, we’re in the shop,” you tried again, though your body betrayed you by lifting just enough to help him pull them down.
“Exactly,” he murmured, leaning close enough that his lips brushed your ear. “Our shop. My walls. My counter. I’ve wanted you here since the day I opened this place, honey.”
You let out a shaky breath, and that was all he needed. He slid your leggings down, tossing them aside with the same careless ease he’d discarded your hoodie. Now you were perched on the counter in just your bra and panties, his hands everywhere — gripping your thighs, sliding up your sides, thumbs brushing over every inch of exposed skin.
Chan looked wrecked already, his breathing uneven, his eyes dark as he dragged them over you slowly. “God, you’re perfect.” he whispered, almost to himself.
Then, with one smooth motion, he hooked his fingers into your panties and tugged them down.
You gasped, heat rushing to your face as he slid them off your legs, tossing them to join the growing pile of your clothes on the floor. His hands came right back to you, spreading over your bare thighs like he was claiming you.
“Fuck,” Chan groaned under his breath, his eyes dragging down between your legs, lingering, his jaw tightening. “You’re already dripping for me.”
Your breath hitched, but before you could answer, his long, veiny fingers trailed upward slowly, teasing, skimming along the inside of your thigh without giving you what you wanted yet. Chan leaned in close, ips pressing hot kisses to the soft skin just below your hip.
Fingers finally sliding higher, brushing you lightly, and you gasped, your hips jerking instinctively. “Shh, baby,” Chan murmured, his free hand gripping your hip to hold you still. “Let me take care of you.”
Those hands — god, those hands. Large, warm, veiny, the same hands that just minutes ago held a tattoo machine with precision now moving over you with something close to worship.
One hand stayed firm on your hip, grounding you, while the other moved slowly, teasing, his long fingers sliding against your soaked folds. He groaned low, almost like he was in pain, when he felt how wet you were.
“Fuck, you’re so wet for me already,” he rasped, his thumb brushing gentle circles over your clit while his fingers teased lower, slipping just barely inside before retreating. “So good for me, angel. Always so good for me.”
Your head fell back slightly, a soft whimper slipping out, and Chan’s mouth curved into a wrecked grin against your thigh.
“That’s it,” he murmured, kissing higher, closer to where you needed him. “Give me more sounds, honey. I want to hear you.”
Two of his fingers finally slid into you, slow but sure, curling just right as his thumb pressed to your clit. You gasped, your hands gripping the edge of the counter, and Chan’s breath hitched at the way you clenched around him.
“Fuck, that’s it,” he groaned, his forehead dropping to your thigh as he moved his fingers faster, deeper. “You feel so perfect. So tight for me.”
Chan couldn’t stay away for long. His mouth moved from your thigh to your hip, kissing, nipping, his breath hot against your skin. Then he looked up at you, eyes blown and desperate.
“Wanna taste you,” he murmured, his fingers still moving inside you, his thumb circling slow, deliberate patterns on your clit. “Can I?”
You nodded breathlessly, and that was all he needed.
He pulled your hips closer to the edge of the counter, his fingers didn’t stop, but now his lips were on you — kissing your inner thighs first, soft, reverent kisses before finally leaning in to press his mouth against you. The first flick of his tongue made you moan, and Chan groaned against you, the sound vibrating where his mouth moved.
“God, you taste so good,” he rasped between licks, his pace quickening as he sucked lightly on your clit. “My perfect girl. All mine.”
His hands gripped your thighs tight, holding you in place as he devoured you, his fingers thrusting in time with his mouth. Every time you whimpered, his groans got louder, more desperate, like he was addicted to every sound you made.
“Gonna make you cum just like this,” he mumbled against you, his words hot and filthy. “Wanna feel you fall apart for me, baby. Come on, angel — give it to me.”
Chan's tongue sucked your clit into his mouth, groan vibrating against your cunt and the sound alone made your hips jerk, but he held you firmly in place. “Stay still, angel,” he rasped between licks, his voice wrecked already. “Lemme take care of you. Lemme… fuck—lemme have you.”
His fingers now curling up just right, just the way he knew you liked, just the way he knew your body would react. Finger-fucking you with a steady pace, wet obscene sounds filling the quiet room. His thumb occasionally pressing harder against your clit when his mouth pulled away for breath.
You gasped, your fingers gripping the edge of the counter, but Chan wasn’t letting you get away from him. His free hand slid to your hip, pushing you flat against the surface while he leaned in deeper, tongue flicking against your clit with increasing intensity.
“Ch-Chan—!”
He hummed in response, and the vibration sent another wave of pleasure through you. He didn’t slow down — if anything, the sound of your shaky voice made him more desperate. His fingers pumped faster now, hitting that spot inside you that made your back arch, his tongue swirling around your clit like he’d been studying you for this exact moment.
“God, listen to you,” he groaned against you, pulling back for a split second to look up at you. His face was flushed, his lips glistening, and his eyes — fuck, his eyes were wild. “Dripping all over my fingers, baby. You’re so wet for me. So perfect for me.”
Before you could respond, he dove back in, tongue and fingers working together in a messy, frantic rhythm. He finger-fucked you harder now, his knuckles brushing against you with every thrust, while his mouth sucked at your clit like he was addicted to you. Your moans grew louder, filling the studio, and Chan groaned at the sound.
“That’s it,” he mumbled into you, his words muffled but still clear enough to make your stomach flip. “Come on, baby… I know you’re close. Let me feel it. Let me feel you fall apart on my fingers, yeah?”
Your body tensed, pleasure coiling tighter and tighter with every thrust of his fingers, every flick of his tongue.
“Chan—oh my god, I—”
“Yeah, baby,” he groaned, his pace relentless, his thumb pressing harder as his fingers curled just right. “Give it to me. Cum for me. Wanna taste you, angel. Need it.”
And then you broke.
Your whole body shook, your hips jerking helplessly against his grip as you came, moaning his name. Chan didn’t stop — if anything, he doubled down, licking you through it, his fingers fucking you deeper, slower now, dragging out every last wave of your orgasm until you were trembling under him.
When you finally slumped against the counter, breathless, Chan pulled back just enough to look at you — his lips swollen, chin slick with you, his chest heaving.
“Fuck,” he breathed, licking his lips as if he couldn’t get enough. “You taste so fucking good. My perfect girl. My perfect everything.”
He kissed the inside of your thigh softly before standing up. And the look in his eyes made your heart stop. He was completely cunt-drunk, lips parted and panting, pupils blown so wide there was barely any brown left in them.
“Not done,” he said, voice low and rough as his hands slid to your waist. “You think I’m stopping after just that? Nah, baby.” His hands moved to his belt, fingers fumbling with it, moving too fast, almost shaky with how eager he was.
“Chan—”
“Can’t wait,” he cut you off, finally yanking the belt free and shoving his jeans and briefs down just enough to free himself. His thick cock sprang up, flushed and leaking, and he hissed under his breath as his hand wrapped around the base, giving himself one slow stroke as his eyes raked over you.
“Fuck, look at you,” he groaned, stepping between your legs again. His free hand slid to your thigh, spreading you open wider. “Sitting here all pretty for me, dripping, still tight from cumming on my fingers… you’re killing me, honey.”
Your breath hitched as he lined himself up, the head of his cock brushing against your soaked entrance.
“Chan, please—”
That was all it took.
With a low, broken groan, he pushed in, slow at first, stretching you open inch by inch. His head fell forward against your shoulder, his breath hot against your skin as he sank in deeper, bottoming out with one final thrust.
“Fuck,” he growled, his voice shaking as his hips pressed flush to yours. “You’re so tight, baby. So warm, squeezing me so fucking good. God, I’m never letting you go.”
Once he started moving, he couldn’t stop. His pace was quick from the start — deep, hungry thrusts that made the counter creak beneath you. Every push in had his cock dragging against your walls perfectly, every pull out slow enough to make you whimper before he slammed back in.
“That’s it, baby,” he panted against your mouth, his words broken between messy kisses. “Taking me so well. My perfect girl, all fucked out just for me. You feel so good—fuck, you feel made for me.”
You moaned against his lips, and Chan groaned back, swallowing every sound, his kisses messy and desperate. His tongue slid against yours sloppily, his teeth nipping your bottom lip before he kissed down your jaw.
Chan buried his face in your neck, sucking at the soft skin there, leaving open-mouthed kisses that turned into nips. “You’re gonna look so pretty tomorrow,” he murmured against your throat, his thrusts never faltering. “My marks all over you. Everyone’s gonna know who you belong to.”
He pulled back just enough to look at your chest, his gaze dropping, and then he dipped lower. “Fuck, I need these,” he groaned before his mouth latched onto your nipple, sucking hard. His tongue flicked over it, his teeth grazing lightly before he switched to the other, his free hand squeezing your breast as if he couldn’t get enough.
Your back arched into him, and Chan moaned against your skin, his thrusts growing even rougher.
“Yeah, that’s it, angel,” he growled, his mouth still on your chest. “You like that? Like when I fuck you like this? Fuck.”
His hips snapped into you harder now, faster, the wet sounds of him fucking you filling the room along with your broken moans. Chan was panting against your chest, his forehead resting between your breasts as he fucked into you.
You were moaning so loud at this rate, instinctively squeezing around his cock tighter, your pussy not wanting to let go, in fact dragging him in deeper.
“Shit, baby, do that again,” he groaned, pulling back to look at you, his hair falling into his eyes, his lips swollen and red. “Clench around me like that again, and I’m gonna lose it.”
You couldn’t help it — your body obeyed, and Chan swore under his breath, his pace growing relentless.
“God, you’re gonna make me cum so fast like this.” he panted, leaning forward to kiss you again, messy and desperate.
The room was filled with the sound of skin slapping against skin, wet and filthy, echoing off the walls of the studio. Chan was relentless now, his hips snapping into you with a pace that bordered on desperate, every thrust pushing you further into the counter, making it creak under the force.
Your body was melting, every muscle trembling, your head falling back as broken moans spilled from your lips. You couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe — you were completely cock-drunk, lost in him, in the way his thick length filled you so perfectly, stretching you just right.
“Look at you,” Chan panted, his forehead pressed against yours now, his eyes glassy, pupils blown. “All fucked out… taking me so good, honey.”
Your walls clenched around him again, and he swore, his hips stuttering for half a second before he picked up the pace, fucking you harder, deeper.
“God, you feel so good,” he groaned, his words spilling out like he couldn’t hold them back. “Tightest little pussy, just for me. Made for me, baby. You’re mine, all mine.”
You whimpered, grabbing at his shoulders, nails digging into his skin as his thrusts grew even rougher.
“Chan—oh my god—I can’t—”
“Yes, you can,” he growled, his lips crashing against yours in a messy, open-mouthed kiss before pulling back just enough to watch your face. His thrusts were brutal now, hips slamming into yours, wet sounds filling the air. “You’re gonna cum for me again, angel. Wanna feel you squeeze me, wanna feel you lose it on my cock.”
You tried to shake your head, gasping, “I can’t—” but your body betrayed you, already tightening, that coil snapping faster than you could stop it.
“Yes, you can, baby. Give it to me,” Chan ordered, his voice rough, commanding now. His thumb slid between you, rubbing your clit in fast, tight circles as he fucked you harder. “Cum for me, angel. Right now. Wanna feel you fall apart again.”
And then you did.
Your body arched, your vision went white, and you cried out his name, your orgasm slamming into you so hard it made your legs shake. You clenched down around him helplessly, milking his cock, and Chan lost it.
“FUCK,” he growled, his voice cracking, his pace faltering for just a second before he shoved in deep, groaning as your tightness squeezed him over and over. “That’s it, that’s my girl—god, you feel incredible when you cum on me.”
He didn’t slow down — if anything, feeling you come undone on him only made him more feral. He kept thrusting, deep and fast, riding you through it, his hips slapping against yours with every sharp movement.
You were gone — cock-drunk, trembling, babbling his name — and Chan was absolutely wrecked, panting against your neck, kissing and sucking at the damp skin there like he couldn’t get enough.
“Not done,” he groaned into your neck, his voice desperate, hips still pounding into you. “Not stopping till I fill you up, angel. Gonna cum so deep in you, fuck—don’t wanna pull out. Ever.”
You whimpered something incoherent, and Chan kissed your temple, his thrusts somehow even deeper now.
“That’s it, honey. One more. Be good for me, yeah? Give me one more before I cum. Can you do that for me?”
Chan’s pace was brutal now, his hips snapping against yours so hard the counter creaked with every thrust. Sweat dripped from his temple onto your chest as he buried himself in you over and over, his cock dragging against your walls perfectly, hitting that spot that made you see stars.
You were already trembling, your body overstimulated from your last orgasm, every nerve burning — but Chan wasn’t slowing down. “Ch-Chan, I—” Your words were broken, barely formed, nothing but gasps and whimpers spilling from your mouth.
“Yes, you are,” he growled, leaning closer, his forehead pressed to yours, his breath hot and ragged. “Gonna cum one more time for me, honey. Be good for me. Wanna feel you squeeze me again before I fill you up.”
His hand slid down between your bodies, his thumb finding your clit again, circling it in fast, precise motions that had you sobbing.
“Too much—”
“Shhh, baby.” he whispered, his lips brushing your jaw as he fucked you harder, deeper, the wet slap of skin on skin echoing through the shop.
Your back arched, nails digging into his shoulders as your body betrayed you again, tightening around him as the pleasure built up impossibly fast.
“That’s it, baby,” Chan panted, his eyes locked on yours, dark and wild. “Cum for me. Cum all over my cock. Wanna feel you milk me dry.”
Your orgasm hit hard, ripping through you like fire, your thighs shaking uncontrollably as you screamed his name.
“Chan—Chan, oh my god—Chan!”
You babbled it over and over, lost in the pleasure, tears pricking the corners of your eyes as your body convulsed around him. Chan groaned loudly, his own thrusts growing sloppy as you clenched tight around him, pulling him closer and closer to his own breaking point.
“Fuck, honey, that’s it,” he growled, his hips driving into you hard, desperate now. “You feel too good — gonna fill you up. Gonna cum so deep, fuck my cum into you until it sticks. Wanna keep you full of me, angel. All mine.”
Your name left his mouth in a groan as his pace stuttered, his thrusts becoming shorter, harder, until finally he slammed deep one last time, burying himself inside you completely.
“Fuck—”
His head fell to your shoulder as his body shuddered, his cock twitching as he spilled into you, hot and deep. His hips kept grinding against yours through it, slower now but still firm, like he was determined to push every drop into you.
“God, baby,” Chan panted against your neck, his voice shaking, almost broken. “So good. Took me so well. Full of me now, yeah? My perfect girl.”
He stayed buried in you, his hips rocking gently, slower now, more tender. His arms wrapped around you tightly, pulling you against his chest as he pressed soft kisses along your jaw, your neck, your shoulder.
You hummed weakly against him, completely gone, your brain pure mush as you slumped against his chest. Your body felt boneless, cock-drunk and warm, and Chan smiled against your cheek at how pliant you were in his arms.
“Accounting’s not getting done tonight,” you mumbled, your voice hoarse, slurred from exhaustion.
Chan chuckled, kissing your hairline. “Yeah, no shit, angel. You can barely sit up.”
He finally, carefully pulled out, groaning quietly at the sight of his cum spilling out of you. His hands immediately slid to your thighs, thumbs brushing over the marks his grip left behind.
“Stay still for me, baby,” he said gently, already reaching for the roll of paper towels and a clean cloth. “I’ll clean you up, okay? Just relax.”
He worked carefully as if you were made of glass. One hand held your hip steady while the other gently wiped between your legs, soft circles, his expression focused but tender. Every so often he’d pause to press a soft kiss to your knee, your inner thigh, or your bandaged ring finger like he couldn’t stop himself.
“You’re so perfect,” he murmured under his breath as he cleaned you. “Still dripping from me, still letting me take care of you. Love you so much.”
You were too far gone to reply properly, just humming again, your head resting against his shoulder. Chan’s smile softened at the sound, and he kissed your temple, whispering, “Mushy-brained, huh?”
“Mmm,” you mumbled, nodding weakly.
He laughed quietly, finishing up and tossing the used wipes into the bin before bringing over the clothes he discarded off of you and helping you back into your panties and hoodie.
“Come here,” Chan said softly, sliding an arm under your thighs and another around your back.
“Chan, I can walk,” you mumbled, though your legs felt like jelly.
“Nope,” he said, smirking as he easily lifted you off the counter. “You’re not walking anywhere. You’re mine to take care of tonight.”
He carried you bridal-style through the shop, nudging the studio door open with his foot before settling you gently onto the worn leather couch in his back office — the same couch you’d spent countless late nights on, working through shop invoices together.
He crouched in front of you, brushing your hair back from your face. “Water or juice, honey?”
“Water,” you whispered, and Chan pressed a soft kiss to your forehead before grabbing a bottle from the mini-fridge, uncapping it and handing it to you before sitting down. His other hand moving on your knee, thumb rubbing slow circles as if he still couldn’t stop touching you.
“Small sips, angel,” he said gently, watching you drink like you might spill it on yourself.
You gave him a tired look. “I’m not five, Chan.”
“Could’ve fooled me,” he teased, grinning as he plucked the bottle back after you’d had a few sips. “You’re mushy-brained and wobbly. That’s basically toddler mode.”
You groaned and slumped against the couch, tugging his hoodie tighter around you. “This is your fault.”
“Mm, best fault I’ve ever had,” he said, his grin softening as he sat beside you. He pulled you into his lap again, his arms wrapping around you like a blanket. “You okay? Nothing hurts?”
“Just sore,” you mumbled against his chest.
“Good sore or bad sore?”
You smirked weakly. “Good sore. Very good sore.”
Chan chuckled, kissing the top of your head. “That’s my girl.”
You both stayed there, with Chan holding you close on that worn leather couch, softly kissing your hair every few minutes, and you? Mushy-brained and completely unaware of the fact that he almost ruined his own surprise by proposing right there and then.
TWO MONTHS LATER
The shop was quiet again, but for a very different reason this time.
You were sitting on that same back-office couch, curled up in one of Chan’s hoodies, thinking about the little white stick you had done that morning. Two faint pink lines.
Positive.
You’d taken it that morning, heart pounding so hard you thought it might burst, and you hadn’t stopped staring at it since.
The past few weeks suddenly made sense — the random waves of nausea, the constant exhaustion, the way your period never came even though you swore it was just stress. You’d been hoping it was stress. Well… maybe half-hoping, half… wondering.
Now you knew.
And you had absolutely no idea how to tell Chan.
You pulled your knees to your chest, groaning softly. “How the hell do I even say this? ‘Hey, by the way, you knocked me up the same night you tattooed me?’”
You chewed your lip, glancing at the bandaged ring finger where his little C had healed perfectly now, the tiny cursive letter smooth against your skin. Your stomach flipped thinking about it — his initial on your ring finger, and now his baby in your belly.
Chan was going to lose his mind. Not in a bad way — you knew he loved you more than anything — but… still. You wanted it to be special.
You considered just blurting it out. Or maybe buying one of those cheesy “#1 Dad” mugs and handing it to him. Or even putting a tiny onesie in one of his ink supply boxes and letting him find it himself.
But Chan deserved better than that.
You wanted to make it yours, something that meant something to the both of you.
Your brain kept spinning, debating whether to do it at home or here at the shop, when the studio door creaked open behind you.
“Babe?” Chan’s voice floated in, warm and familiar. “You hiding in here again? Everyone’s gone, you know. It’s just us.” He stepped in, hair slightly damp from his post-workout shower, hoodie sleeves pushed up to his forearms, revealing those veiny arms that made your brain short-circuit every time.
He smiled when he saw you, walking over and leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead. “Hey, mushy-brain. You look tired. You okay?”
You forced a smile. “Just… a little tired. Long day.”
Chan crouched in front of you, tilting his head to study you. “You sure? You’ve been tired a lot lately. And you’ve been… I dunno, different.”
Your stomach flipped. “Different how?”
He shrugged, smiling softly. “Just… softer. Quieter. And you’ve been wearing my hoodies more than usual, which I love, but also—” He narrowed his eyes playfully. “You’re not sick, are you?”
You laughed nervously, your heart hammering. “No, not sick.”
“Hmm.” He searched your face for a long moment before leaning in and kissing your temple. “Okay. But if you are sick, I’m making you soup and not letting you do any more accounting for a week.”
“Noted,” you said, trying to keep your voice even.
You were going to tell him soon.... Very, very soon.
The smell of something warm and sweet drifted through the apartment before you were even awake. It was soft morning light filtering through the kitchen curtains, painting everything gold, and the faint hum of music playing low from Chan’s phone.
You blinked groggily, sitting up in bed, stretching under the duvet. The apartment above the bakery always smelled faintly of bread in the mornings, but today it was different — richer, heavier, like butter and sugar and… coffee.
Chan.
You padded out of the bedroom, still in one of his oversized t-shirts, hair messy, and found him in the kitchen.
He was barefoot, in gray sweatpants and a white T-shirt, muscles flexing as he whisked something in a bowl. His hair was sticking up in that I-woke-up-early-just-for-you way, and there was flour on his cheek.
He turned at the sound of your footsteps, and the soft smile he gave you was enough to make your chest ache.
“Morning honey,” he said, setting the whisk down. “Go sit, breakfast’s almost done.”
You raised a brow, leaning against the doorway. “You’re awake before me… cooking? Should I be worried?”
He laughed quietly, dimples flashing. “Nope. Just wanted to do something nice for you. Now sit before you burn your feet on the cold floor.”
You shook your head with a small smile but obeyed, slipping into your usual spot at the small table by the window. The sun hit just right there, warming your legs as you watched him move around the kitchen. You were completely unaware of why he was doing this, but one thing you were aware of sat heavy in your chest: you were telling him today.
Chan had spent weeks thinking about how to propose — fancy dinners, maybe the shop, maybe even flying you somewhere. But every plan felt too loud, too not you.
Because you? You weren’t someone he needed to impress with fireworks. You were his girl who sat on the shop counter doing accounting in his hoodies, who kissed his cheek while he worked, who let him mark you with his initial like it was the most natural thing in the world.
So this morning, he decided: domestic, quiet, soft. You, him, breakfast, and the sunlight. That was perfect. The ring box sat tucked in his pocket as he plated pancakes, his hands only shaking slightly when he set the table.
“Fancy,” you said as he placed a plate in front of you — pancakes stacked high, drizzled with syrup, fresh berries on the side. “What’s the occasion? Did you blow something up at the shop and you’re buttering me up before I find out?”
Chan sat across from you, grinning. “No explosions. Just wanted to spoil you.”
You narrowed your eyes playfully, cutting into the pancakes. “This better not be your way of bribing me into doing shop inventory later.”
Chan laughed, shaking his head. “Nope. No shop talk today. Just us.”
You smiled softly at that, taking a bite — and holy hell, they were good.
“Wow. Okay, maybe I should marry you just for these pancakes,” you teased without thinking.
Chan’s fork froze midair, his smile twitching into something softer, something that made your heart skip — but you were too focused on working up the courage to tell him to notice the way his hand brushed against the pocket of his sweatpants, where that little velvet box sat.
You set your fork down, suddenly nervous. “Chan?”
He looked up immediately, brown eyes soft. “Yeah?”
You bit your lip, your heart pounding so loud it almost drowned out your voice. “I… I need to tell you something.”
His brows furrowed slightly, concern flashing in his eyes. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong, I just—” You exhaled, staring down at your plate for a moment before forcing yourself to meet his eyes.
“I’m pregnant.”
And the room went silent — except for the soft hum of morning music and Chan’s sharp inhale as the words sank in. His fork clattered against his plate as his mouth opened slightly, blinking at you in stunned silence for half a beat before a smile started pulling at his lips — slow, soft, and so wrecked.
“Are you…” His voice was almost a whisper, warm and trembling, as his hand slid across the table to grab yours. “Are you serious?”
You nodded, biting your lip, tears already pricking your eyes. “Yeah.”
For a second, Chan just stared at you, his thumb brushing over your knuckles, his eyes shining — and then he laughed, a quiet, breathless laugh, before standing and pulling you up with him. He hugged you tight, burying his face in your neck. “God, I love you so much,” he murmured against your skin, his voice breaking. “You’re having my baby. Our baby. Fuck, I can’t believe it.”
When he finally pulled back, his hands were still on your waist, his grin wide and teary.
“Baby,” he said, suddenly serious but smiling so big you could barely breathe. “I was gonna wait… do this all proper later… but screw it.”
Your brows furrowed, confused, until he reached into his pocket and pulled out the small velvet box.
Your breath caught. “Chan—”
“I was gonna do something fancy, but I don’t care anymore. You’re having my baby, you’re literally wearing my letter on your ring finger already, and I… fuck, I can’t wait another second.”
Chan didn't even drop to one knee, no, he just held you close to him, his eyes glued on your face as he opened the box to reveal a simple but stunning ring that caught the morning light perfectly.
“It's not crazy, it's not a fancy proposal. But... it's us. And I wanted it to be special and not artificial. So... will you marry me?”
Your breath caught, the world narrowing down to just him — his hopeful, teary eyes, the velvet box in his hand, the way his thumb rubbed nervously against your waist like he was trying to ground himself.
“Chan…”
You didn’t even let him finish panicking in his head. You nodded, tears welling up instantly. “Yes.”
His breath hitched, his smile breaking into something wrecked and overwhelming, his dimples deepening as he laughed — a soft, almost disbelieving sound. “Yes?”
“Yes,” you repeated, laughing through your tears, your hands coming up to cup his cheeks. “Of course yes, you idiot.”
He slipped the ring onto your finger with shaking hands, his thumbs brushing over it as if he couldn’t believe it was real. His eyes darted between your hand and your face, his grin softer now, almost shy.
“My fiancée,” he murmured, tasting the word like it was honey. “My future wife.” And then his lips crashed onto yours. It started soft — his lips brushing yours gently, his hands cradling your face like you might break. But it didn’t stay soft for long.
Because Chan never could stay soft when it came to you.
The kiss deepened quickly, turning hungry, desperate, his hands sliding from your cheeks to your waist, pulling you flush against him. You gasped into his mouth, and Chan groaned, taking the chance to slide his tongue against yours, the kiss turning messy and heated.
When you pulled back for air, breathless, Chan rested his forehead against yours, panting softly. “You’re gonna kill me, angel. Pregnant with my baby, wearing my ring, looking at me like that… fuck, I can’t keep my hands off you.”
You opened your mouth to respond, but Chan had already slid his hands lower, gripping your hips possessively. His lips moved to your jaw, kissing down to your neck, his teeth grazing your skin lightly.
“Chan—” you tried, but your voice came out more like a whimper, which only made him smirk against your throat.
“Say it again,” he murmured between kisses, his breath hot on your neck.
“Say what?”
“That you said yes.” His teeth grazed your pulse point now, sucking lightly. “Wanna hear it.”
You swallowed, your voice shaky. “I said yes.”
“Mm, my perfect girl,” Chan groaned, his hands sliding to the back of your thighs. “My fiancée. My baby mama. My everything.”
Before you could react, he scooped you up effortlessly, sitting you on the kitchen counter, just like he had at the shop weeks ago. His mouth trailed down your neck, his hands slipping under your t-shirt to spread over your stomach.
“You’re carrying our baby,” he whispered against your skin, his tone reverent and filthy all at once. “Full of me in every way now.”
Your breath hitched as his thumbs brushed slow circles over your lower belly. “Chan…”
He kissed your jaw, his grin wicked now. “Gonna have to be careful with you now, angel. But I still need you. Right here. Right now.”
His breath hitched as his lips trailed down to your collarbone, leaving soft kisses that slowly turned into open-mouthed licks and nips. You gasped softly when his hands pushed your t-shirt higher. “My baby mama,” he whispered, his voice breaking slightly. “My fiancée. My everything.”
Then his gaze flicked back up to you, dark and desperate. “Can I? Please, angel. Need to feel you. Need to be inside you.”
You nodded, breathless, and that was all the permission he needed.
Chan lifted that t-shirt all the way off, tossing it to the side before leaning in to kiss you again — slower this time, his hands cradling your face. His lips moved against yours with a tenderness that made your chest ache, but his body was trembling with restraint, every muscle tight.
You cupped his jaw, smiling softly into that kiss as you murmured. “I’m yours, Chan.”
His breath caught at those perfect breathy words, eyes softening for half a second before turning darker again. “Yeah, you are. Mine. All mine.”
Chan’s hands were on your thighs again, tugging at the waistband of your shorts. He slid them down slowly, almost teasingly, before tossing them aside. His big hands gripped your bare thighs, spreading you gently as he stepped closer.
“You’re already wet for me.” he groaned, his thumb brushing along your folds through your panties.
Your breath hitched, your hips twitching slightly under his touch. “Chan—”
“Shh, I’ve got you,” he whispered, kissing your knee before tugging your panties down in one smooth motion. He dropped to his knees between your legs, pressing open-mouthed kisses along your inner thighs.
“I should take my time,” he murmured against your skin, his breath hot. “Worship you properly. But I’m already so fucking hard for you. Can’t wait much longer.”
He stood again, tugging his sweatpants and briefs down just enough to free his thick cock. His hand wrapped around it, stroking once, twice, as he stared at you like you were the only thing that existed. “Gonna go slow,” he promised, leaning in to kiss you again, his voice soft but desperate. “Tell me if anything hurts, okay? I’ll stop.”
You nodded, and Chan lined himself up, guiding himself to your entrance. He pushed in slowly, inch by inch, his forehead dropping to your shoulder as he groaned low in his chest.
Your walls clenched around him as he bottomed out, and Chan swore under his breath, his hips stuttering for a moment.
“Feel so good,” he whispered, kissing your neck. “So warm, so soft… made for me.”
Chan started moving, slow at first, careful, but the hunger in his eyes was impossible to hide. Every deep thrust had him groaning into your neck, his hands gripping your hips tight but gentle, as if he was holding himself back with everything he had.
“Taking me so good, angel,” he praised, his lips brushing your ear. “Even now, you’re perfect for me. You’re incredible.”
Your moans filled the kitchen, soft and breathy, and Chan kissed you again, swallowing them down, his tongue sliding against yours in a messy, hungry kiss.
The pace stayed slow but deep, each thrust hitting just right, making you gasp and cling to his shoulders. Chan groaned at the way you squeezed him, his forehead pressing to yours. “You’re killing me, honey,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “Wanna fuck you hard, wanna ruin you, but… god.Just wanna take care of you. My everything.”
Chan’s restraint started to crack.
He was trying — god, he was trying — to keep it slow, to keep you safe, to worship you like you deserved. But the way you clenched around him, the way your soft whimpers filled the warm kitchen air, hair messy, ring glittering on your finger… it was undoing him.
“Fuck, baby.” he groaned against your neck, his thrusts growing deeper, heavier.
You gasped as his pace picked up, controlled but harder now, every deep thrust dragging against that spot that made your back arch.
“Chan—oh my god—”
“That’s it, honey,” he panted, his forehead pressed to yours, eyes dark and blown. “Say my name like that. My perfect fiancée, my perfect baby mama. God, you’re so fucking beautiful like this.”
One of his hands slid between your bodies, fingers finding your clit with practiced precision. He rubbed slow circles at first, matching his thrusts, but the second you gasped and clenched around him, his pace quickened, his thumb pressing harder.
“Yeah, that’s it, angel,” he groaned, his hips snapping into you deeper, controlled but harder now, his cock hitting perfectly with every thrust. “You’re so close, I can feel it. Come on, baby, cum for me. Wanna feel you cum on my cock.”
Your head fell back, your nails digging into his shoulders, and Chan buried his face in your neck, kissing, sucking, murmuring filthy praise against your skin.
“Such a good girl for me. Gonna make you cum so hard. Come on baby, cum on my cock.”
The combination of his deep thrusts and his relentless rubbing on your clit had you spiralling fast. Your moans grew louder, desperate, and Chan swore, his hips driving into you harder.
“That’s it,” he growled, his voice cracking. “Cum for me, angel. Milk my cock. Wanna feel you squeeze me dry. You can do it for me. Be good for me.”
You broke with a cry, your body tensing and shaking as your orgasm hit, your walls fluttering around him tight and hot.
“Fuck, that’s my girl,” Chan groaned, his thrusts faltering as you clenched around him, milking him exactly how he wanted. “So tight, so perfect, gonna make me cum, angel.”
Chan’s pace turned sloppy, desperate, his forehead pressed to yours as he fucked you through your orgasm. His thumb slowed on your clit, now just rubbing soft circles as he focused on burying himself deep inside you.
“Gonna fill you up, honey.” he panted, his voice wrecked.
One last deep thrust, and Chan groaned your name, his hips grinding into yours as he came, hot and deep. His body shuddered against you, his hands gripping your waist tight as he stayed buried, his cock twitching as he spilled every drop.
“I love you,” he murmured against your cheek, kissing it softly as his thrusts slowed to nothing. “You’re everything I’ve ever wanted.”
Chan stayed inside you, breathing hard, kissing your jaw, your neck, your temple, murmuring soft praises between each press of his lips.
“My girl.” kiss
“My wife-to-be.” kiss
“My baby mama.” kiss
“My everything.” kiss, kiss, kiss
You were still trembling slightly, completely cock-drunk, and Chan smiled softly against your skin, kissing your forehead.
“Let me take care of you, honey,” he whispered, finally pulling out carefully, his hands already reaching for a towel. “Gonna clean you up, then hold you for the rest of the day. No more moving, just me, you, and our baby.”
You laughed softly, still breathless. “Our baby.”
Chan froze for half a second, looking at you with that same wrecked, lovesick grin as before. “God, I love you so much.” He didn't move right away, not for a few good minutes that is. Because even after pulling out, he stayed pressed against you, his arms wrapped tightly around your waist as if letting you go might make the moment disappear. His forehead rested against yours, his breathing finally slowing, but his thumbs kept brushing soft circles on your hips like he couldn’t stop touching you.
You shifted slightly, still perched on the counter, and he immediately murmured, “Don’t move, angel. Stay right here. Just let me hold you for a minute.”
You smiled softly, your fingers threading through his damp hair, pushing it back from his face. “You’re clingy.”
“I’m engaged to the love of my life who’s carrying my baby,” he shot back without missing a beat, his grin sleepy and lovesick. “You’re lucky I’m not duct-taping us together permanently.”
You laughed, leaning in to kiss him softly. He melted into it instantly, sighing against your lips, before resting his head back on your shoulder.
After a long moment of silence, you spoke up, your tone teasing.
“So… we’re gonna need a new place, huh?”
Chan blinked, pulling back just enough to look at you. “What?”
“Well,” you said, biting back a grin, “you wanna raise a baby and run a shop while we live in a tiny apartment above a bakery?”
He stared at you for a beat, then burst into a quiet laugh, kissing you again before resting his forehead to yours. “Guess I better start looking,” he murmured, smiling so big it made your chest ache. “Bigger kitchen, bigger bed… maybe a whole room just for baby stuff.”
“And a bigger table for all your breakfast experiments,” you teased.
“Damn right,” he said, kissing you again, softer this time. Chan then pulled back just slightly, his grin turning mischievous. “Actually, scratch the bigger table. I just need one strong enough to keep doing this.”
You raised a brow, laughing despite yourself. “Chan!”
“What?” he said innocently, kissing your cheek. “You’re the one who brought up moving. I’m just thinking about practical needs.”
You rolled your eyes, smacking his chest lightly. “You’re impossible.”
“And you love me for it,” he shot back immediately, dimples deepening as he kissed your nose.
You sighed, pretending to be exasperated even as you smiled. “Fine. Bigger kitchen, bigger bed… and a table strong enough for your practical needs.”
Chan laughed, hugging you tight. “That’s my fiancée. Already making the smart choices.”
“Mm-hmm,” you said, leaning your head against his shoulder. “Smartest choice I ever made was saying yes to you.”
Chan froze for a beat, then smiled so big you thought his face might split. “…God, you’re never getting rid of me now.”
“Wasn’t planning to,” you teased.
“Good,” he said, kissing you again — soft, warm, and still grinning against your lips.
Lovedrunk, Bang Chan has to be one of my favourite things to read and I truly believe that if this guy loves you, you are going to know that he loves you haha
This is deliciously written and it gives me tingles because Bang Cham and tattoos and being love drunk and being a gentlemen and oh my lord.
Summary: Taehyung finally finds you again after years of searching, and all he needs to do is kiss you to return the memories of your past life together. The only problem is you're already in a relationship, and with the very person who executed you in the first place.
Pairing: Jungkook x Reader, Taehyung x Reader
Genre: Reincarnation/Past Lives AU, Royalty AU, Friends to Lovers, Ex-Friends to Lovers, Affair, Angst, Smut, Fluff
Word Count: 28.5k+
Warnings: major character death(s) (in the past, they get reincarnated), execution/death, suicide, blood, swords, wound from a blade, crying, screaming, arguing, cheating, lying, heartbreak, mentions of war, death of loved ones, the fifteenth century, horses, fear of heights, pregnancy, mentions of childbirth, being restrained, migraines, hallucinations/seeing visions, flashbacks, corsets, gowns, basketball, cheerleading, loud crowds, gymnasiums, passing out, needles, being sedated, vomiting, drinking, cursing, depression, mention of graves, crypts, children, chapel, wedding, priest, sacraments, kings, queens, knights, armor and shields, pet names (baby, love, darling), beer pong, darts, loss of friendship, nonconsensual kissing, mention of sorcery/sorceress, spells, reincarnation. SMUT: big dick tae and jk 🤪, loss of virginity, missionary, oral sex (f receiving), unprotected sex, pull-out method, mention of masturbation (f), jacking off/hand job, dick riding, fingering, multiple orgasms, forced exhibitionism (idk how to explain it properly but someone listens outside the door as they have sex), cum eating, coming on skin, cream pie, making out in public, alright I think that's everything but lmk if I missed something.
Author’s Note: jungkook villain era?? haha jk... unless 👀, ok anyway, happy festa everyone! for this fic we got BOAF ‘EM, baby! So excited to have my biases front and center in this monster of a fic lmao. I didn’t even know this many words were capable of coming from my brain but here they are. I really hope you guys love it even though some of our characters be making some major blunders. please don't judge OC too harshly, ok? she's doing her best. also I'll formally apologize to tae for constantly putting him in these situations at a later date. I'm very proud of how this turned out, so, as always, please lmk your thoughts and I hope you enjoyyyy :)
Taehyung kneels across from you, devoid of the armor and shield which make up his regular attire. They’ve been stripped from him, leaving him in just his frock and riding pants. Two of his fellow knights hold his arms out, turning him into the image of the cross before your eyes. You don’t repent, since God is not the one you need to beg for forgiveness.
Your nails scratch harshly against the wood below you as you listen to the footsteps of the King circling around before they halt behind your back. His footsteps which are so familiar and were once the sound you stayed up waiting to hear come down the corridor.
Time moves like the cogs of an ungreased wheel, each click of its turns bringing you closer to the fate which awaits you.
Taehyung glares at the King and thrashes against his restraints, even though every soul in the room, including him, knows it’s useless. His insubordination goes ignored.
“Any last words, your Highness?”
Eyes snapping shut, your emotions betray you as a sob escapes from your chest and tears fall from your eyes onto the floor below. An unalterable grief overtakes you when you look into Taehyung’s chocolate eyes one last time before returning your gaze to the floor.
“I love you,” you whisper across an exhale, most likely your last. “I am so sorry.”
A single poignant moment passes before the sharp blade slices across the delicate skin of your neck.
You gasp and grab at your throat, but the sound becomes a gurgle as blood pours from your neck, staining the wood and your gown below you. The deep red liquid flows around your fingers and stains your skin with its potency. Your vision is already gone, and your hearing follows only seconds after. Your body meets the floor with a thump as the light in your eyes flickers out.
Blood continues to spill from your wound and run through the knots in the wood like a river around stones, creating a halo of it around your body.
“No, no, no, Y/N!” Taehyung cries as he pulls against the knights again, trying to reach you even though you’re already gone. The beautiful eyes he adores stare lifelessly back at him. “You monster,” he sneers.
The King doesn’t say another word, and doesn’t offer Taehyung the same grace he did to you. He just slowly makes his way across the room before repeating the action across his former first knight’s neck.
His body falls next to yours, his blood fanning out around him and combining with yours into a pool of thick, dark liquid that leaks through the cracks in the wood. Your clothing absorbs the fluid and paints you both red.
A final thump follows shortly after.
PRESENT DAY
Taehyung doesn’t know where he’s going, but he thinks it must be the right direction because he can hear cheers from the building coming into view. It’s massive compared to the rest of the school's architecture, but he’s not surprised by that. Most universities nowadays put more emphasis on sports than anything else.
The cheers only grow as he approaches, a loud buzzer triggering the eruption of sound each time. When he enters the gym, the bounce of the basketball and swoosh of it falling into the net joins the mixture of noises coming from inside. He hands his ticket to the woman at the entrance before heading towards the basketball court.
It’s uncomfortably warm in the gym. All the bodies stacked in the bleachers and the sweat from the players creates a thick air around the whole scene. The combination of the temperature and loud noises only perpetuates the distortion of his senses, as if he isn’t anxious enough already. Taehyung’s eyes scan the space as he stands in the doorway, off to the side to avoid disturbing the patrons who come and go.
It only takes him a few seconds to find you.
You’re standing courtside, among the first row of cheerleaders who stand with their pom poms behind their back. Hair down and in curls, with a piece of it tucked behind one ear, and glitter all over your eyelids and cheeks. You look nothing like the last time he saw you and yet somehow you’re exactly the same.
Every few minutes you rub the plastic poms together to cheer on the team, sometimes shouting for them, too. It’s so mundane and yet it takes Taehyung’s breath away. It’s only natural, given that this is his first time seeing you in… well, since his last life.
He never moves from his spot in the doorway, he just stands and admires your every movement and gesture.
His eyes trace across your familiar visage. Your eyes still sparkle, your skin is soft and dewy, and your lips steal his attention instantaneously. The faint blush across your cheeks reminds him of his childhood and of home. It’s been so long, but seeing you now makes him feel like it was only yesterday.
The only thing out of place is seeing you in this attire. Your cheerleader uniform consists of a miniskirt and tight top which only just meets the top of your skirt. Every time you stretch or move your hips, a sliver of your stomach shows and Taehyung is holding his breath. It’s enough to send his mind into a frenzy. In his last life, he never saw so much as your ankle until the first time he made love to you.
All too soon, the game ends with a final buzzer. Your team must have won, because you join the rest of the cheerleaders in a chant with the spectators behind you before congratulating the team one by one.
Once the celebrations are through, you begin packing your things in a duffel matching the university's colors. One of the basketball players walks over and talks to you as you swap out your shoes for something more comfortable and bring a sweatshirt down over your head. Taehyung’s in a love-filled daze as he watches you pull your hair out from where it’s trapped under the neckline and smile at your conversation partner. Every little thing you do is pure magic in his eyes.
Suddenly, you’re waving goodbye to the athlete and walking towards the very exit where Taehyung stands. He’s nervous, more nervous than he’s ever been in his entire life. This one, at least. His heartbeat slows in time with your steps as you grow closer and closer.
“Hi!” Taehyung catches your attention.
You look confused as to where the voice is coming from, your eyes flitting around the room to find the answer, but then you spot Taehyung in front of you and smile.
“Hi,” you respond.
“You — you were great out there,” Taehyung compliments.
Your head tilts to the right and your nose scrunches as you smile. There’s an ache in Taehyung’s chest at the familiar movement. Even your mannerisms are the same.
“Was I? Thank you,” you say. “I didn’t do much.”
“Maybe not, but it’s obvious why you’re front and center,” Taehyung continues.
“That’s what I get for being cheer captain,” you sing-song. Taehyung opens his mouth to say something else, but you continue before he can. “I’m so sorry, my boyfriend is sick so I’m trying to get back to him as fast as I can.”
“Oh.” Boyfriend? “That’s alright, I’ll leave you be. I’m Taehyung, by the way.”
“Y/N,” you reply with a miniature curtsy. You have no memories of ever being a royal, but it must still be in your blood somewhere. “Well, see you later.”
“Yeah, later,” Taehyung concurs.
Taehyung should be elated about having his first conversation with you after an over twenty-year-long hunt, but he didn’t account for everything before traveling across the country to find you. The possibility of you already being in a relationship when he found you never once crossed his mind.
How is he supposed to kiss you and return your memories if you’re already taken?
Taehyung sits in his new dorm for the next couple days and paces around the small room as he thinks of a plan. Eventually, he decides to befriend you, which should be easy since an introduction has already been made, and make you fall in love with him the same way he did in your last lives together.
He stole you from someone once before and all he has to do is do it again.
The next time he sees you is in the library. You’re sitting at a table near the wall of windows that overlooks the large plane of grass marking the center of campus. You have big pink headphones on and are moving your head slowly back and forth to whatever music is coming from them. There are two books and a laptop in front of you and you’re writing diligently in a notebook which rests on your lap.
Taehyung approaches you slowly, checking his surroundings for any mysterious boyfriends who may come to join you.
When he reaches you without any interruptions, he taps the desk with his knuckles to grab your attention. You smile when you see him and remove your headphones.
“Hey, Taehyung,” you greet him.
His heart soars over you remembering his name.
“Hi, mind if I join you?”
“No, of course not,” you respond. Gesturing to the empty seat across from you with your hand, you smile again as Taehyung takes his backpack off and sits down. “So, you’re new around here. Transfer student?”
“Yup,” Taehyung says as he pulls his laptop out.
“Are you a senior, too?”
“Yeah, I’ve got a majority of my credits, but because of the transfer nonsense there are some things I’ll need to retake,” he explains.
“Bummer,” you reply. Your hand fishes in your backpack before pulling out a piece of candy and popping it in your mouth. “Do you play any sports?”
Before Taehyung answers, you offer him a piece of your sweets, but he declines with a wave.
“Just fencing and horseback riding, if you count those,” he answers.
“Um, woah. Yes, I count those,” you laugh. “That’s way cooler than contact sports.”
Talking to you is as easy as breathing and it sets Taehyung’s heart alight in his chest. It makes him remember all of your long conversations about everything and nothing. Your presence is so warm, welcoming, and familiar that it’s easy for him to forget this is only your second conversation.
“How’s your boyfriend?”
“Oh, he’s doing a lot better. Thanks for asking,” you say. “Normally, he’s at the games with me, since he’s the captain of the team, but he caught a nasty cold last week and couldn’t play.”
“So he’s a basketball player?” You nod and bite your candy in half. You’re adorably vicious with the chewy treat. “And how long have you known each other or been together or whatever.”
“Two years,” you say nonchalantly.
Two years?
Taehyung definitely has his work cut out for him. You’re not just in any relationship, you’re in a serious, long standing relationship. He needs to learn more about him so he can better understand who he’s up against. Hopefully, as your friendship grows, you’ll offer to introduce the two of them.
“Wow, that’s awesome,” he says even though it tastes bitter in his mouth.
“Yeah, we met freshman year and were just friends for a long time, but the heart wants what the heart wants, ya know?”
Yes, he certainly knows all too well.
You end up studying together for a couple hours before you leave for cheer practice. After that, you form a routine of meeting up to work on assignments and study, which perfectly aligns with Taehyung’s plans.
The study “dates” always happen at the library on Tuesdays and Thursdays, usually after lunch. It works well for you both because the silent moments are comfortable and the conversation is easy. Your study sessions are the only time Taehyung sees you for a couple months, and he’s yet to meet your boyfriend.
That changes one Thursday when you invite him to the basketball game the following night. Apparently, it’s against the university’s main rival and you’re giddy about the competition and hopefully seeing the team win. Taehyung graciously accepts and tells you he’ll see you then when you say goodbye.
Taehyung is wearing a hoodie with the university logo on it that he picked up from the school store earlier today. He blends in seamlessly with the crowd of students all wearing the same colors to support the team. After handing his ticket over, he makes his way into the gym and finds one of the few empty spots on the bleachers.
The court is currently empty since there’s still some time before the game starts. The other students on the bleachers are conversing with each other and eating their concessions, but Taehyung is mentally preparing himself to finally see his competitor for your heart.
Taehyung isn’t one to brag, but he’s been told he’s pretty handsome, and he likes to think he’s got a good personality. He’s just worrying himself sick over whether those attributes will be enough to make you end a two year long partnership. All he can hope for is that you walk into the gym with someone of below average looks and a shitty personality.
His leg bounces incessantly as the minutes tick by and the start time of the game nears. He watches other cheerleaders and basketball players filter in through the doors, every single one making his heart stop until he realizes it isn’t you. When it finally is you, Taehyung finds himself moving to the edge of his seat, his lip catching between his teeth.
You walk into the gym through the large metal doors first, but Taehyung can see a hand laced with yours. His eyes trace from where your hands are connected up the tattooed arm of your companion until he’s able to see the stranger’s face.
No amount of mental preparation could’ve prepared him for this sight.
As if his prior life is flashing before his very eyes, he watches in horror as you reach up on your tiptoes and press a kiss to your boyfriend’s lips. Your boyfriend smiles against your mouth in return, chasing your lips with his own before pulling back and moving your hair away from your face.
There is no mistaking the familiar features Taehyung is seeing. Besides maybe the length of his hair and the tattoo sleeve occupying his right arm, everything is identical.
Taehyung scores through his memories for an answer, any explanation for the disturbing scene he's watching. It doesn’t make any sense. The reincarnation spell should’ve only applied to you two. So why are you walking hand-in-hand across the basketball court with the King?
What the fuck is Jungkook doing here?
1422
The spring rainfall gave life to more blooms this season than last, creating a beautiful vision of purple and white in the valley near your home. They’re only wildflowers, but they still spread a sweet fragrance through the air. The sight of the flowers billowing in the wind is picturesque and something you look forward to at the conclusion of every winter.
On the road parallel to the valley, two figures on horseback come into view ahead of the slow-sinking sun. You wave to greet your regular visitors, laughing when you notice one of them speeding up and leaving the other in the dust.
The horse galloping towards you is a familiar sight, and you trust the rider enough to know he’ll stop with plenty of time before he reaches you.
“Jungkook, that was not very nice,” you scold him playfully once he’s close enough to hear you.
Taehyung follows the same path to you on his own steed, a frown evident on his features as he approaches.
“He is never nice!”
“I am always nice,” Jungkook corrects him.
They both dismount gracefully, and you follow your usual routine of walking over to Jungkook’s horse, Bam, and petting him on his forehead. Your fingers gently move down the horse’s face as you coo at him. Bam nudges his muzzle into your hand, making a noise of appreciation at the attention you’re providing him.
Jungkook watches the scene affectionately, his starry eyes following the movement of your hand and the smile that grows on your lips the more you interact with his beloved horse. You don’t see the way his eyes trace over your profile with a smile of his own.
“You can ride him, if you would like,” Jungkook offers.
“What?” You ask, but before he can answer you, Jungkook’s hands are on either side of your waist and he’s lifting you onto the saddle. “Oh, wait, wait!”
Your hands grab onto the saddle to steady yourself, your eyes wide as you look down from the great height.
“Uh, Jungkook —”
“Do not worry, I am holding you. You are not going to fall,” Jungkook states.
You feel his palm on your lower back, and his other hand is petting Bam to keep him calm. It’s unfamiliar, but not unwelcome, feeling the heat of his hand on you, but you don’t want him to see the blush appearing on your cheeks.
“Oh… okay,” you mumble.
Eyes glancing down again, you shut them instantly when you see how high off the ground you are.
“I believe she would still like to get down, Jungkook,” Taehyung comments.
You look down at Jungkook with fearful eyes to confirm Taehyung’s statement. His lips quirk downward in a frown before he grabs you by the waist again and brings your feet safely to the ground.
“I am sorry,” Jungkook tells you, his hands still on your waist. “I did not mean to scare you.”
“You did not scare me,” you say, stepping back so his hands fall away from you. “Bam scares me. Well, not Bam, because he is so sweet, but Bam’s height.”
Jungkook smiles at your explanation, his eyes crinkling in the corners, and it makes you mirror his expression.
“Yeontan would like some attention, too, m’lady,” Taehyung says as walks towards you both, his horse following him by the reins.
“I will be there in a moment,” you say. You pet Bam’s forehead once more before moving to Taehyung’s horse to give him the same affection. “What was the subject of your royal lessons today?”
“Battle strategy,” Jungkook says as he ties Bam to your stable. Taehyung follows suit with Yeontan once you’re done petting him.
Your heartbeat comes to a screeching halt at his answer, and a wave of fear washes over you at the dramatic change of topic for their lessons. Yesterday, they were learning about the proper way to eat soup and which fork should be used first.
Jungkook notices your worried expression and walks towards you. His eyes search yours for the reason you look so frightened as his hand slowly rises to hold your own. You allow him to take it, and you know he can feel the way it shakes in his grasp.
“That is not because you will be heading to battle anytime soon, is it?” You ask him.
The Kingdom is at war with a neighboring country and has been for nearly three years. Despite how long the men have been fighting, there is still no end in sight. It’s been devastating for the Kingdom as men leave their homes and families never to return again. Almost every child in your town is without a father and their mothers are left alone to care for their land and houses.
“No,” Jungkook answers, his hand squeezing your own before letting it go. Relief spreads across your chest and dispels the anxiety pooling in your gut. “Two heirs cannot go to battle at the same time.”
Your friend Jungkook is actually Prince Jungkook, but it’s easy to forget that when he’s teasing you or rolling around in the valley. He’s the younger of two sons, and his brother Junghyun is fighting alongside his father in the war. Since Jungkook isn’t next in line for the throne, he lives life at a slower pace and is more carefree. You appreciate that about him and enjoy taking part in his boyish antics.
Taehyung comes from a long line of knights who have served the crown for generations. Knights begin training at a very young age, and depending on their lineage, their future role is decided long before they complete their training. Taehyung has known he’d eventually be Jungkook’s first knight since childhood. The pair have known each other since they were toddlers and are as close as brothers.
You grew up with both of them because your parents work at the castle and you lived in the staff quarters until you began working yourself. Jungkook’s mother, the Queen, absolutely adores children and believes education is essential to living a good life. As such, she hires tutors to teach the children of all the staff as well as the young knights and royal family. It was during these lessons that you first met Jungkook and Taehyung. The three of you bonded over folktales and your love of animals and quickly became close friends.
Since you no longer live at the castle since becoming a midwife, the two boys come to visit you nearly every day between their daily lessons. The time is usually spent talking about what they learned or which books they’re reading. Sometimes, often in the summertime, the three of you play childhood games in the valley or take a short walk to the river where you can sink your feet into the cool water.
A new anxiety emerges when you remember that the rules which dictate Jungkook’s life are not the same for Taehyung.
“That does not apply to Taehyung, does it?” You question as he comes to stand beside you, too.
“No,” Taehyung says with a grimace. “I could be called upon at any time, but I am not fully trained. I do not believe that will occur unless there are no other options.”
Taehyung spoke too soon, because within a month’s time, he’s visiting you to tell you he has to leave for the battlefront in a fortnight.
Something in you knows as soon as you see him what news he’ll be sharing, but your heart shatters all the same when the words leave his mouth. You cry into your hands as he sits across from you at your kitchen table. He’s your best friend and you know there is a chance you will never see him again once he departs. The fear and sorrow coursing through you are enough to drown you. There is nothing that terrifies you more than losing him or Jungkook.
Taehyung reaches across the table and removes your hands from your face to hold them instead.
“I promise I will come back, Y/N, and when I do… I will take care of you. If you will have me,” he states.
“What?”
“I love you, and I want to marry you,” he confesses.
The thought doesn’t make sense within your mind. Taehyung’s noble status gives him the right to have the pick of the litter in terms of a wife. You don’t even have a dowry you can offer him.
“I do not understand how you could love me,” you respond.
“How could I not?”
He kisses the back of your hands and then rests his cheek against them.
You’re unsure how to respond to his proposal, or if you even should. He’s saying this now because he’s leaving, and you can’t give him an answer when there’s a chance he’ll never return. The reveal of his feelings for you frazels your mind and makes you question everything. So, you decide his proposal is something you’ll organize your thoughts about once he returns, if he returns.
The fortnight passes by both agonizingly slow and too quickly. The anxiety eating away at your nervous system turns the days into long threads of time with no end, but simultaneously, the calendar seems to be skippping ahead multiple days at a time.
When time lands on the third day from his departure, the whispers of a tragedy spread across the land like wildfire.
You hear it first from one of your patients, an expecting mother who you’re checking up on after she fell ill. When she whispers the news to you, your blood runs cold. You don’t believe her initially, but then, as you leave her home, you hear it repeating all around you in the voices of your neighbors.
King Jeon and Prince Junghyun are dead. The father and son perished in a bloody battle which took more than half of your men’s lives.
Whispers in bars and conversations across fields about how the King’s death will affect farming and trade are all you hear in the days following the announcement, but all you can think about is whether or not Jungkook is alright.
Unsurprisingly, you have no visitors until the morning Taehyung is supposed to leave. You watch from your kitchen window as the sunrise breaks over the valley. As the sky goes from deep blue to orange, you hear the familiar sound of horses galloping down the road.
Exiting your house in a flash, you wait for your friends to reach you and dismount before approaching them. You go straight to Jungkook, taking his hands in your own and rubbing over his knuckles with your thumbs.
“I am so, so sorry, Jungkook,” you tell him.
He squeezes your hands in return and a small smile appears on his lips, except it doesn't reach his eyes the way it normally does.
“I am alright,” he assures you. “I will miss them dearly, but it is my mother I truly worry about.”
“If there is anything I can do, please tell me,” you reply. His only response is a nod as Taehyung comes from behind the horses after tying them up. “When do you leave?”
“I am not leaving anymore,” he states. “I have to stay to protect the King.”
“The King?” The dead King?
“Yes, the King,” he parrots, gesturing to Jungkook.
You feel so foolish for forgetting what the consequences of Junghyun’s death really are. Jungkook will now have to take up the mantle of King without anyone ahead of him to guide him into the role.
You gaze at your childhood friend, attempting to imagine him in a crown. A smile appears on your face when you think about how handsome he will look with it sitting atop his pretty black hair. Jungkook is prudent, kind, and compassionate and you know he will make a wonderful ruler.
“Oh,” you say, letting his hands go as you take a step back. It’s one thing to be affectionate with a Prince, it’s another entirely to do so with a King. “Well, I suppose I will be seeing a lot less of you then.”
Jungkook frowns deeply and shakes his head.
“I do not want that,” he responds. “You are important to me and I will make time to visit you regardless.”
You’re sure Jungkook means what he’s saying, and believes it himself, but the odds of it being true are slim to none. A King has to bear the weight of the world and his new role will certainly keep him and Taehyung from visiting you as often.
It feels like goodbye as you wave at them and watch their figures disappear down the road. Your head falls forward and tears fall from your eyes onto the grass. The world is changing too fast for you to keep up.
Despite your worries, Jungkook comes to visit you the next day carrying a bouquet of white roses.
You’ve never been in a carriage before, let alone in one which is currently on its way to the castle. It’s been years since you were last at the monumental estate which houses both your parents and best friends.
As you approach, you notice the familiar grounds where you once played as a child. You see visions of you, Jungkook, and Taehyung running around in circles as they chase you and all at once the memories of your time here come flooding back. The memory of when Jungkook accidentally sent you both flying into one of the fountains brings a smile to your face. You’ll never forget the look on his mother’s face when she saw you both soaked and dripping on the castle floor. And the one of Taehyung picking flowers for you only for them to blow away when a strong wind flew in. He pouted for hours afterwards.
The feeling of returning home brings you comfort amongst all the chaos surrounding you.
The carriage stops in front of the entrance to the castle and you see the massive stone doors which separate the outside world from the home of the royal family. Your parents are already waiting for you along with some fellow staff, their faces giddy with excitement about seeing you. The driver offers you his hand to help you down the steps and once your feet hit the ground, you run straight into your mother’s embrace.
“Oh, honey, we missed you,” she tells you.
“I missed you, too,” you sigh.
A lurching sound indicates the doors are opening and Jungkook and his mother emerge from behind them. Jungkook takes two steps at a time, skipping down the limestone to reach you faster. His mother sighs knowingly at his behavior, a warm smile present on her lips.
“I am happy to see you arrived safely,” he says as he offers you his hand.
You curtsy to his mother, the Queen, who you haven’t seen since in many years now. She’s just as beautiful as you remember, even though her eyes carry a new sadness in them.
“Your Majesty, I am so very sorry about your husband and son,” you say to her.
“I appreciate it, my dear. I am so happy to see you,” she replies. “Let us go inside and I can show you around.”
She hooks her arm around yours and you almost recoil away from her in shock. The Queen is escorting you like an old friend and it defies all the logic in your brain. Even though you grew up here, you have always been well aware of your place in the world.
Your mother and father wave goodbye to the three of you as they report back to their duties. A pair of matching smiles on their faces as they watch you enter the castle.
Once inside, your eyes sweep around the grand entrance and the corridors which splinter away from the room. You notice all the beautiful artwork and intricate architecture of the castle that you didn’t take the time to admire as a child. You were too busy playing and soaking up all the knowledge you could from your tutors.
“I apologize, I have a meeting to attend, if you will excuse me,” Jungkook tells you.
Then, much to your surprise, he takes the back of his hand and runs it along your cheekbone, the softest of smiles present on his face as he does so. Your eyes open in wonder at the gesture, but once he’s turning and walking away from you, a matching smile appears on your lips.
Your skin feels warm where his fingers were, and you avert your eyes from his disappearing figure to try and stop the blush from continuing to spread. When you turn to your left towards the Queen, that knowing, motherly look is back. She just shrugs before turning in the opposite direction to lead you further into the castle.
When Jungkook enters the room the sound of chairs scraping against the stone floor permeates the air. All of the staff, parliamentarians, advisors, and knights stand at attention in the presence of their future King. The knights place their arms across their chest out of respect, including Taehyung, who is sitting to the left of the throne. Not yet being acclimated to the sight, Jungkook gestures for everyone to sit with a wave of his hand before taking his seat next to Taehyung.
The throne to the right of Jungkook, which is reserved for his future Queen, remains empty.
“How is the planning coming along?” Jungkook asks the royal coordinator. He is effectively the head of staff who oversees everything that goes on inside the castle.
“Wonderfully, your Highness. The wedding and coronations will occur subsequently in the chapel three days from now. The Priest is already preparing the sacraments,” the man replies.
“Wedding? Whose wedding?” Taehyung asks as he looks over at Jungkook.
Jungkook doesn’t get the chance to answer him before a parliamentarian joins the conversation.
“Have you not heard? She is supposed to be arriving today, is that right, your Majesty?”
“Yes.” Jungkook clears his throat before continuing. “Y/N arrived only moments ago and is currently touring the castle with my mother.”
“Y/N?” Taehyung snaps. His whole body turns towards Jungkook, the shock and disbelief distorting his features. Jungkook doesn’t explain or answer, he merely glances at him in warning before continuing the meeting.
When the meeting concludes, the entire room stands at attention again as Jungkook exits. Taehyung follows closely behind and catches up to match Jungkook’s pace.
“You are marrying Y/N?” Taehyung asks incredulously. “When did this happen?”
“Yes, I am,” Jungkook responds flatly. “She will be your Queen soon. You should refrain from calling her by name.”
“What is wrong with you?” Taehyung stops Jungkook with his arm. “I have known you my whole life, you would never do something like this to me.”
“Do to you?”
“Yes, your Highness,” Taehyung says sarcastically. “You know how I feel about her.”
“Things change, Taehyung. Half of my family is dead. I have a role to play that I am nowhere near prepared for. I am sorry if this hurts you, but I have different priorities now; different responsibilities.”
“What do those responsibilities have to do with Y/N?”
Jungkook stops walking again and turns to face his friend, his wall of regality dropping to allow his true emotions to surface.
“Because there is no else I would rather have by my side when I face them,” he answers whole-heartedly. Jungkook doesn’t wait for Taehyung to reply before he continues down the corridor.
When you wake up on the morning of your wedding, you momentarily forget where you are until you see the dazzling wedding dress hanging from the wardrobe. The gown is almost too beautiful to wear, and it stares at you from across the room as if to ask “are you ready for this?” You aren’t sure of the answer.
The sound of knocking steals you away from your thoughts. Assuming it’s the maids coming to help you get ready, you tell them to come in and rise from your bed.
It’s shocking how efficiently the group of women work to turn you into a living, breathing doll. One of them brushes and styles your hair, another puts makeup on you for the first time in your life, and two of them work to get you into your dress.
The dress takes longer to put on you than both the hair and makeup combined. It’s a massive pool of fabric and you can barely tell which end is the top and which is the bottom. You stand with your hands gripping the dresser as both women tug at the strings of the corset and lock you into place. When they finish, you clutch your stomach and attempt to inhale a deep breath. They smile assuredly at you and encourage you to walk around so you can get used to being in such a gown.
Later in the day, you’re alone with one of the maids while she finishes your hair by placing pins in it. A sudden knock interrupts her and she goes to answer it. You aren’t sure who it is until you see her stepping back with wide eyes. Jungkook enters with a slight bow of his head and she immediately curtsies and then proceeds to stand at attention.
Jungkook chuckles nervously, still acclimating himself with everyone’s new behavior towards him.
“Can we have a minute?” He asks her and she obeys with a curt nod before exiting the room.
“Hi,” you greet him.
“You look beautiful,” Jungkook tells you.
“It is none of my doing,” you say. “The maids are amazing at making me look like something I am not.”
“That is not true,” Jungkook argues. “You have always been beautiful, Y/N.” Tilting your head to the right, your nose scrunches and you smile at his compliment. “I wanted to make sure I came to see you before… I know it has been a few days and I apologize, it has been so hectic lately.”
You haven’t seen him since arriving at the castle and he’s certainly a sight for sore eyes. Rising from your seat, you walk to him and take his hands.
“You do not have to worry about me,” you affirm. “I know you have a lot of responsibilities.”
“Yes,” he smiles. “And unfortunately, soon you will, too.”
“Right,” you laugh. “Being the Queen and all.”
The idea is still so foreign to you that it feels unnatural leaving your lips.
“I… I cannot thank you enough for doing this for me, Y/N. I know it is a huge commitment and I am so grateful.”
“Jungkook.” You grip his hands a little tighter and he reciprocates the action. “Why are you acting like I am the one doing you a favor? You asked me to be your Queen, to rule a Kingdom by your side. I should be thanking you.”
Jungkook sighs, his gaze dropping to your connected hands. His thumbs massage over your knuckles absentmindedly.
“I just know this was not the life you envisioned for yourself,” he eventually responds.
“It is not,” you concur. Jungkook frowns and you continue before he gets the wrong idea. “I would say it is better. I loved being a midwife and bringing children into the world, but I grew up here and now I get to spend the rest of my days here.” You squeeze his hands one more time before speaking again. “I am here because I wish to be, Jungkook. Nothing more.”
Jungkook smiles at you and lifts your hands to his lips to kiss them before letting you go and heading for the door.
“I will see you at the altar, my Queen.”
Your dress weighs down on you like a pile of bricks. It’s your first time wearing a gown, and you didn’t anticipate it being this hard to move. Despite the uncomfortability, the lace and fabric cover you beautifully and it’s easy to feel like a Queen when you look down at its design.
When you first enter the chapel, Jungkook’s eyes go wide and his lips part before his expression slowly softens into one of admiration and awe. He saw you only moments ago, but the vision of you coming towards him surrounded by flowers and soft candlelight takes his breath away.
When you see him, you’re equally as stunned. His hair is pushed back away from his forehead, leaving his pretty features as the main focal point. The style makes him look regal and elegant. His wedding attire compliments him in all the right places and the white color accentuates his honey skin. When he visited you before he was still in his normal clothes, so the sight is truly something to behold.
Once you reach the altar, Jungkook stands to the right of you as his left hand holds yours. You’re thankful because if he wasn’t holding your hand the entire room would be able to see it shaking. You know he can feel the movement in his grasp, because every so often he squeezes your fingers. Sometimes he does it twice or three times in a row, and it reminds you of the secret messages you would send to each other across the library during lessons.
In the back corner behind the altar, just on the other side of Jungkook, stands Taehyung, dawning his armor for the first time. It makes you so proud to see him living up to his family’s legacy.
Although, his new uniform isn’t what catches your attention, it’s the deep scowl painting his features into something you’ve never seen before. It makes you look over at him with a face of concern, silently questioning what’s wrong, although, you believe you know the answer already.
Taehyung has every right to be angry with you. He told you he loves you and wants to marry you, and then you accepted a proposal from his best friend. To make matters worse, you weren’t able to tell him about the marriage yourself since you didn’t see him before traveling to the castle. You want to tell him everything, explain your feelings and why you’re standing next to Jungkook today and not him, but the conversation will have to wait.
The wedding ceremony ends with a final prayer before the Priest immediately begins the prayers and readings for the coronation. You and Jungkook turn around to face the crowd and it only heightens your nerves. Jungkook notices the shift in your body language and soothingly runs his thumb up and down your pointer finger. Taking a deep breath, you squeeze his hand in return to communicate to him that you’re alright.
At the instruction of the Priest, the two of you kneel down together and wait patiently for the crowns to be placed on your heads.
Jungkook goes first, and you watch in awe as the Priest places a large gold crown onto his head. When he does, a lock of shiny black hair falls onto Jungkook’s forehead. You can’t help but smile, noticing how it somehow makes him look even more handsome. Your best friend is a King now and you have to blink a couple times to stop tears from forming in your eyes.
Only a moment later, the cool metal of a tiara is resting on your hair, the edges of it sinking between your strands to keep it secure. It simply doesn’t feel real and you’re terrified of waking up from this dream come true.
You stand up as one and the entire chapel erupts with cheers and hollers. You and Jungkook make eye contact and both have to suppress a laugh. His eyes are shining with the light of the whole galaxy, and it brings you more happiness than you can put into words.
The celebratory feast commemorating your marriage begins as soon as you leave the chapel. The transition happens so quickly you don’t even get to speak with Jungkook privately before you’re entering the grand ballroom. The large space is ornately decorated and every corner has a giant table of food and wine.
Jungkook never once lets go of your hand.
There is a constant stream of guests greeting and congratulating you, and his touch and presence beside you is the only thing keeping you calm. Jungkook is used to this, and he handles every single encounter with grace. You mostly stumble about and nod as people regale you with kind words and affection.
Taehyung is on your mind the entire night, and your eyes are constantly scanning the massive crowd of people for his familiar head of hair. You want to speak with him as soon as possible to clear the air between you. He’s so important to you and it kills you knowing how much you hurt him. You never find him, and the evening comes to a close before you have a chance to reconcile.
Before you know it, you and Jungkook are traveling in a lavish carriage to begin your honeymoon. The war prevents you from traveling to another country for the occasion, but you’ll still be spending a month at the family’s countryside estate before returning to your regular duties at the castle.
Even though it’s the middle of the night when you arrive, there are staff outside the entrance waiting to greet you and take your luggage.
The head parliamentarian escorts you and Jungkook to the King’s suite. Your hands are shaking again as reality kicks in, but you curl your fingers into your palm to keep anyone from noticing.
The parliamentarian must escort you as well as stand outside your door tonight so he can report back that the marriage has been consummated. The thought of a stranger listening in on your first night with your husband makes your skin crawl, but this is how things are done when you’re royalty.
The man opens the door to the suite so you and Jungkook can enter before shutting it behind you with a slam. Silence overtakes the room as your eyes roam over the walls and windows, the sachet in the corner, and the large bed in the center of the back wall.
You take a shaky breath, itching at your sleeve where the unfamiliar material rubs against you uncomfortably.
Jungkook gets your attention with a call of your name. He points at the artwork on one of the walls, a large painting with a gaudy gold frame encapsulating it.
“What was the artist thinking when they made this one?” He asks through a laugh.
You hum as you study the painting. It’s rather unpleasant to look at, and you can’t even fully make out all the shapes and colors.
“We will have to call upon him to ask,” you respond. “I do not think one could guess if they tried.”
Jungkook laughs and the familiar sound eases your mind and calms your nerves a little. You keep reminding yourself that it’s just him, someone you’ve known all your life, but your brain still persists with its overthinking.
You mosey around the room and peruse more of the artwork and decor before falling onto the bed with a plop. Despite your best efforts, your gown is too heavy and large to sit down normally. You’re half laying-half sitting on the mattress as your feet dangle over the edge. The fabric pools all around you and threatens to drown you in white lace.
Jungkook joins you on the bed, but leaves a decent amount of space between you.
“I am unsure if I know how to get this monstrosity off of me,” you admit with a scoff.
Reaching over your shoulder, you tug at the ribbon caging you into the gown. When you aren’t able to loosen it yourself, Jungkook clears his throat, raising his eyebrows and gesturing towards you to ask permission. You let your hands fall back onto your lap before answering him with a nod of your head.
Jungkook kneels behind you on the bed so he can begin loosening the ties of the corset. You jump when you first feel his hands brush against you. He moves slowly, his touch as light as a feather as he unties the knot and begins to weave the ribbon back and forth to remove it. Once he’s about halfway done, the tension releases from around your waist and you take your first unimpeached breath of the day.
“Oh, thank you,” you sigh. You watch curiously as Jungkook stands to face you and reaches his hands out for you to take. “What?”
“Stand up and I will help you out of it,” he replies.
You obey quickly, standing up while holding the fabric to your chest so it doesn’t fall away. Jungkook laughs when he notices the action.
“Why are you laughing?”
“I cannot get you out of it if you are holding it up, my darling.”
The deep timbre of his voice as he uses the pet name is enough to make your heart skip a beat.
“Right,” you reply and let go.
Maybe Jungkook isn’t as nervous as you, or maybe he just hides it well. As a woman, you are completely untouched, your own hand being your only source of pleasure so far. But the rules are different for men and Jungkook may not be as shy about these things as you are.
The dress falls into a heap on the floor and Jungkook takes your hands to hold you steady as you step out of the large skirt one foot at a time. Even with your body still covered by your underdress, this is the most exposed you’ve ever been to another person. The raw vulnerability causes your hands to start shaking again, but you let go of Jungkook before he can notice.
“Feel better?”
“Yes, thank you so much,” you respond.
Jungkook grabs the expansive amount of fabric and places it gently over one of the dressers. You return to your spot on the bed and he follows suit, this time sitting a bit closer to you.
A weighted tension creeps into the room like fog across the morning air. It beckons a silence between you that leaves only your breathing as background noise. There’s a feeling of anticipation floating around as well, like the whole atmosphere is on edge and waiting to see what happens next.
“How do you feel now that everything is done?” Jungkook asks.
“Hmm, I am happy, but also nervous,” you admit.
“Me, too,” he replies.
“You are? I figured you would be used to this.”
“It is not the royal aspect I am nervous about.”
“What are you nervous about then?”
Jungkook chuckles and runs a hand through his hair, ruining the style and bringing his black locks down onto his forehead. It makes him look boyish and charming.
“Not only did I go from being a Prince to a King in a matter of days, but I am a husband now, too. Your husband,” he explains. He looks down and sighs, his eyes closing momentarily. “I want to do right by you, Y/N.”
“You have always done right by me, Jungkook, I do not see that changing anytime soon,” you reassure him.
There’s a lull in the conversation, but the tension is slowly dissipating and morphing into a comforting aura instead.
“Hmm, I am so glad it is you. I cannot imagine how anxious I would be if it was anyone else,” Jungkook states.
“Is that why you asked me?” You probe him. “Because I am familiar to you?”
“No,” he says with a shake of his head. You raise your eyebrows at him when he doesn’t add anything else to his answer. He chuckles and licks his lips. “I asked because I wanted to marry you. Simple as that.”
His eyes meet yours and the ever-present stars and sincerity in them make you feel like you’re the only person in the world.
“Why?” You whisper. You fear if you speak too loud it will ruin the moment.
Jungkook tilts his head and tongues his cheek.
“You know I am not good with my words,” he says. “Can I show you instead?”
“Show me?”
Jungkook nods as his hand twists around your forearm, gently pulling you towards him. You stand to better adjust your position, but then he pulls you into his lap, holding you by the backs of your thighs so he can place them on either side of his own. The sudden movement makes you gasp and hold onto his shoulders for support.
Being this close to him is startling, but feeling him beneath you is as comforting as a warm bath after a long day of work. You wonder how you ever went this long without touching him like this in the first place.
Jungkook’s hand caresses your jaw as he looks into your eyes. You can see the cogs turning in his mind as he assesses whether or not you’re comfortable with his touch.
His hand is bigger than your entire cheek and the feeling of his skin on yours makes your eyes shut in pleasure. You feel his thumb gently moving back and forth across your cheekbone and you sigh happily.
“Jungkook,” you murmur. “That feels so nice.”
“It does?” You nod your head with your eyes still closed. “Do you want me to keep going?”
“What do you mean?”
Jungkook’s chuckle forces your eyes open. There are crinkles around his eyes as his gazes at you from mere inches away. He looks so pretty up close.
“We have to appease the man outside at some point tonight, so I am asking you if you would like me to keep making you feel nice,” he explains.
Your mouth snaps shut as the overwhelming anxiety from earlier begins to burrow inside you again. There is no doubt your body wants your husband, wants Jungkook, as you can feel a tightness in your thighs you’ve only experienced during self exploration before, but it’s all so nerve wracking that you can’t bring yourself to answer him.
“I… I have never, I —”
“I know, my darling,” he responds. His thumb moves across your cheek again before he leans in and presses a kiss to the other one. He lets his lips linger there for a moment before coming back to face you. “Was that alright?”
“Mmhmm.”
“Alright, how about I keep going and you tell me if you want me to stop,” he suggests.
You only nod in response, not trusting your own voice to get your thoughts across clearly.
Jungkook leans in and kisses the same spot before moving down your face, pressing his lips to every inch of skin he comes in contact with. When he reaches your jaw, he lets his tongue drag across you and it pulls a gasp from your throat. He kisses you even harder when he gets to your neck, his lips and tongue moving slowly against your delicate skin before sucking over your pulse point.
“Oh,” you gasp at the unfamiliar sensation. “Oh, Jungkook,” you moan. You don’t recognize the tone of your own voice.
“Still feel nice, my Queen?” His words dance across the wet spot he’s left on your neck.
“Yes, my King,” you answer breathlessly.
He continues to kiss across your neck and the exposed area on your shoulder while his hand moves away from your face to caress your body. Starting at your shoulder, he traces your outline slowly until he reaches your hip, where his other hand already resides on the opposite side.
His lips leave your neck and a whimper escapes you involuntarily. Jungkook smiles and rests his forehead against yours.
“Can I kiss you?”
You giggle at him being chivalrous enough to ask when he was just painting your neck in his saliva.
“Yes, of course.”
Jungkook kisses you tentatively, so gentle with the pressure of his lips that you almost don’t feel it. You can tell he’s hesitant and doesn’t want to scare you, but when you feel his lips on yours for the first time, your own hesitation melts away.
Your hands leave his shoulders to wrap around his neck as he moves his lips in a slow rhythm against your own. It sends sparks throughout your entire body and makes the feeling in your thighs even more distracting. Jungkook wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you closer to him so your chests touch. His hands flex against your back as he moves them up and down to feel you.
You begin kissing him back as you get the hang of things, mirroring his movements and turning your head to gain better access. Jungkook’s hand sinks into your hair and you moan into his mouth when you feel his fingers on your scalp. The kiss is slow and sensual and you already feel more in your loins than you ever have when pleasuring yourself.
“Jungkook,” you speak when you come up for air. “I need more.”
Jungkook smiles adoringly at you and kisses you once more before lifting you off his lap and standing up. He takes his first layers of clothing off without ever breaking eye contact with you. It has your thighs rubbing together as you watch his fingers pop open buttons and untie laces.
Once he matches you in his state of undress, he gestures to you to come closer with his pointer finger. You obey instantly, not wanting to wait another moment to feel him against you again.
“Have you ever touched yourself?” He asks once you’re standing inches from him. You nod. “Good.”
“Have you… done this before?” Jungkook frowns at your question, and you know he doesn’t want to disappoint you with his reply. “I will not be upset, I promise.”
“I have,” he answers.
“Will you show me, then? I want to make you feel nice, too,” you ask quietly.
The corner of Jungkook’s mouth quirks up and he nods in affirmation. His hands reach out to caress your waist before he turns you around so your back is pressed against his chest. The movement has you gasping, but it morphs into a moan when his lips return to your neck.
He sits again, bringing you with him. He spreads your legs overtop his own which completely opens you up for him. It makes your heart race and your nerves come alive, but you push the anxiety away to continue enjoying his touch.
His hand catches the bottom hem of your underdress and slowly moves it up until your undergarments are exposed to the air. You gasp and grip Jungkook’s forearm when his palm comes to rest over your center. He isn’t touching you yet, necessarily, but you can still feel your core pulsing in anticipation.
“Do you trust me?” He whispers directly into your ear.
“Always,” you reply without missing a beat.
Jungkook hooks his fingers in your undergarment and you lift your hips just enough for him to remove it from your body. The cool air against your wetness sends shivers down your spine.
The initial feeling of Jungkook gently tracing your folds makes you jump in his arms. He shushes you quietly before continuing his ministrations, adding more pressure as his fingers spread your essence around. His hand moves upwards until he’s touching your swollen nub and a loud moan escapes from your mouth.
Your hand covers your mouth in response, your eyes wide in shock of a noise like that coming from you. Jungkook chuckles warmly from behind you.
“No, no,” he says, removing your hand from your face. “They are supposed to hear us, anyway. Do not muffle your noises. I want to hear everything, my Queen.”
Jungkook presses down on your clit and your moan again without restraint. He uses the wetness he collects on his fingers to massage you in your most sensitive spot and it makes your head spin. You’re certain if he wasn’t holding you, your knees would give out. They’re the same motions you use on yourself and yet his fingers make it feel so much more intense. It’s incomparable to anything you’ve ever experienced before in your life.
He retreats back into your folds to spreads them apart before pushing his middle finger into your hole. You gasp again, your nails digging into his skin where you’re still holding onto his arm.
“Is this okay?”
You nod repeatedly in response. It is more than okay. It feels so heavenly you wonder if you’re about to meet God himself.
Jungkook’s finger moves in and out of your hole slowly, a squelching sound accompanying each slide of his appendage. Before long, he adds his ring finger and fucks you with them both, stretching your hole open for the first time.
“Oh, God,” you moan as your head falls to his shoulder. “That… that is amazing, my King.”
Jungkook presses a kiss to your cheek, leaving his lips there as he continues to fuck you slowly with his fingers. He presses his palm down so it meets your clit as his hand moves against you. Your moans are short and high pitched, happening in quick succession now as your orgasm nears.
Your husband picks up the pace, moving his fingers faster and sending them deeper into your pussy. Every time he enters you he reaches a spongy spot inside your walls that has you reeling from the pleasure.
Not only are you focusing on your own ecstasy, but you can feel him hardening beneath you and it makes you want him even more. There is a deep, instinctual need inside you to provide him the same pleasure he is giving you.
“I want you to come for me, my darling,” Jungkook whispers before kissing your neck again. “Can you do that for me?”
“Yes, Jungkook, I am so close,” you respond.
The words have barely left your lips when you feel your orgasm crashing over you like a wave with a high pitched scream that barely sounds like yourself. Jungkook continues to pump his fingers into you as you shake in his arms and your pussy convulses around him.
It’s the most euphoric thing you’ve ever felt and it’s almost too overwhelming to bear. Your thighs are still shaking even once he removes his fingers. You watch with wide eyes as he slips them into his mouth to suck your juices off.
“Jung — mmhf.”
He cuts you off with a kiss, gripping your jaw to keep your face where it is. You moan into each other’s mouths as you devour one another passionately. Jungkook leans you both back, the two of you crashing to the bed with him above you. Leaving your lips for only a moment, Jungkook reaches down to grab the hem of your dress and pull it over your head.
It leaves you completely bare before him and on instinct you go to cover your chest and stomach. Jungkook smiles affectionately at your shyness, but he doesn’t scold you, just laces his fingers with yours and moves your hands away from your body.
“I want to see you, too,” you say as you look into his deep brown eyes.
Jungkook obliges you silently, stretching up and removing his top before kneeling to remove his pants, leaving him with only a single garment covering his manhood.
“Better?”
You nod and reach up to bring his face to yours again. He lovingly traces over your figure beneath him, moving his hands over your waist, hips, shoulders, and arms. It feels as though he is trying to map you in your entirety. His big hands complete their exploration by grabbing both of your breasts and massaging them. You moan, your head falling back against the bed and opening your neck up for him to kiss again.
He doesn’t stay there long before moving lower and kissing across your tits as he squeezes them. His lips latch onto your nipple and you gasp, you hand gripping his black hair in response. He sucks and licks over the nub of your left breast before moving to the right. The sensation has you going mad and it makes your hips buck up against his own.
When you do, you feel how hard his cock has become. Your hand sneaks down and you grab him over his garment, pushing your palm gently against his bulge.
“Oh, darling,” he gasps. You laugh happily at his reaction, feeling accomplished that you’re pleasuring him as well.
“Is this alright?” You ask as you bat your eyelashes.
“It is… so much more than alright. Please do not stop,” he begs you.
You continue the same movement, applying more pressure as Jungkook’s head falls to your shoulder, pressing soft kisses on your skin as he moans.
Feeling more confident now, you stop your movements to remove his undergarment. He stares at your hands as they reveal his body to you. A shuddering breath pushes past your lips when you see your husband’s cock for the first time.
“Oh,” you say as your voice drops an octave.
Jungkook is what you can only assume is large. It’s certainly bigger than the penises you’ve seen in art and statues, but you have no real life comparison. He’s long and thick, with large veins running down his shaft. You don’t think your fingers will touch if you wrap your hand around him.
Jungkook chuckles and raises your head to meet his eyes.
“Do not worry. I will make sure you are ready before you take me,” he assures you.
“How will you do that?”
Jungkook doesn’t respond verbally, he simply maneuvers you both to the center of the bed before sinking down so his face is in front of your cunt. He leans down to kiss and bite along the supple skin of your thighs as he makes his way to where you’re leaking for him already.
His eyes bore into yours when he finally reaches your center and his tongue leaves his mouth for a tentative lick along your folds. You break his eye contact with a loud and deep moan as your head tips back and hits the pillows beneath you.
“Oh, my King,” you sigh in ecstasy.
Your husband wastes not a single second more, his tongue flattening against your hole and licking up the essence that’s collected there. Your legs shake where they rest next to his head and your nails dig into the sheets, twisting them in your grasp.
Jungkook is relentless, despite your body already showing signs of oversensitivity. His tongue slides through your folds as he kisses your cunt and moans into you. Then he moves to lick your clit and suck it into his mouth, before returning again to fuck his tongue into you. While his mouth is abusing your hole he uses his nose to create friction on your swollen nub. Everything he does sends shockwaves through your entire being and you feel like your consciousness is no longer on the earth.
You come again faster than you can even register, your thighs locking around Jungkook’s head as you whole body spasms. Jungkook doesn’t stop, though, even once your breathing begins to return to normal. He continues on as if you didn’t reach a climax at all. It sends your body into overdrive and you gasp at the painful pleasure that shoots through your core.
Hands finding his hair, you tug on the strands as your hips move to meet his mouth. He groans against you, nodding as if to tell you to keep going. You do, your pussy rubbing against his face while he licks your cum away.
Everything about it is downright filthy and yet it creates the most wonderful feeling to ever course through your veins.
Jungkook’s mouth moves against you like he knows your body better than you do. His tongue only laps at you a couple more times before another orgasm hits you, and it causes you to gasp and moan pathetically as your hips gyrate against him. He finally comes up for air once he feels your body still, his head resting on your thigh as he kisses it softly.
“Did that feel good, my darling?” Jungkook asks with a smile. His pink lips are swollen and shiny with your essence.
“You have no idea,” you pant, each word coming out across an exhale.
Jungkook’s smile grows exponentially and he comes up to meet you at your lips again. You can taste yourself on him and it makes you moan into his kiss.
“Are you ready, my Queen?”
His eyes peer into your own when he asks and you can tell he wants to see you so he knows whether you truly are or not.
“Well, what about you?”
“You do not need to worry about me,” he tells you.
“But I want to,” you argue. “I want to pleasure you, my King. I want to give you everything.”
Jungkook pauses your conversation as his eyes search yours for something.
“Are you saying that because you think it is your duty?”
“No.”
“Then —”
“I am saying it because it is how I feel about you, Jungkook. It has nothing to do with duty.”
Jungkook sighs and kisses the tip of your nose. You can’t help but blush, the gentle affection warming your heart and making you smile up at him.
“I would love nothing more, my darling,” he tells you. “But I think we should save that for another day. Truthfully, I need to be inside you or I will go mad.”
His words spread heat throughout your entire body.
“Is that so?”
The smirk currently occupying your lips isn’t there for long because Jungkook kisses it away. A dreamy sigh comes from you as your tongues meet for a lazy dance inside your mouth. You could kiss him forever if given the chance. The taste of his lips and the feel of them against your own has you completely hypnotized.
Jungkook uses the distraction of his kiss to line himself up with your core, gently running the tip of his cock through your folds and then spreading your cum down his shaft to lubricate his skin. Your pussy reacts immediately, clenching around nothing and leaking more cum onto your thighs. When he’s ready, he nuzzles his nose against yours and kisses your cheek.
“This may hurt,” he warns you.
“I know,” you smile reassuringly. “I will be alright.”
“You will tell me if you are uncomfortable at all, yes?”
“Yes, darling,” you reply in a mock-tone of his deep voice. He beams at you, his eyes disappearing for a moment before giving you one final peck.
Jungkook enters you slowly, letting just his head push past your tight circle of nerves before waiting to make sure you’re alright. Your nails dig into the skin of his shoulders as your pussy stretches to accommodate him. It isn’t as painful as you expected, more so a tight pressure within your walls. You nod reassuringly at him once you’ve adjusted and he continues gently until his hips meet yours and his cock is nestled up against your cervix.
You gasp at the full intrusion, your lips kissing his shoulder and biting down on the muscle to relieve the foreign ache.
“Try to relax, darling, it will help,” he coos in your ear.
Taking multiple deep breaths, you close your eyes and wait for the pressure to subside. Once it does, you’re mesmerized by the pleasure. Jungkook’s cock throbs inside you and he’s so thick that you can feel every ridge and vein pressing against your walls.
“Okay,” you say, looking into Jungkook’s eyes and brushing his hair away from his face. He still looks hesitant, raising his eyebrows at you confirm you’re truly ready. You answer him with a kiss and he smiles against your mouth.
Jungkook rears back slowly, never once looking away from you to ensure you’re alright, and then sinks back in. You moan when he enters you again, this time feeling nothing but pleasure and euphoria. His tip repeatedly hits the same spot inside you and it makes you see stars as your eyes roll back.
His body hovers over yours, his forearms holding him steady. Your hands are in his hair and around his neck, tugging on the strands in time with his movements. He grabs your leg to bring it higher around his hip and thrusts into you even deeper. Your moans tangle together in the air between you along with the wet sound of his cock entering you over and over. Jungkook is fucking you like his life depends on it, like is whole life has lead to this very moment. He kisses your shoulder and neck and sucks on your earlobe before finally coming back to your lips to ravish your mouth.
Consummation of marriage doesn’t seem like the right term for this act anymore, it’s too exquisite to be described in such a mundane way.
You gaze up at Jungkook as he watches his cock come out of you and go back in again. He groans at the sight, throwing his head back, and you run your hand down his sharp jaw to grab his attention.
“I love you,” you tell him, despite how terrified you are for him to finally know the truth. His eyes go wide, his mouth opening and shutting again when he can’t find the right words to reply. You smile at his reaction, finding it utterly adorable how you’ve stunned him into silence. “I love you, my King, my husband… my Jungkook.”
Jungkook blinks repeatedly and you can see tears pricking at the corners of his starry eyes, which only makes yours do the same. He maps your face with his eyes as he relishes in your confession. His head shakes in disbelief, but then he smiles and breathes out a laugh.
“I love you, Y/N,” he finally responds. “My Queen, you have no idea how long I have loved you.”
He kisses you again, this time so ardently it steals your breath right from your lungs. His thrusts speed up while your mouths chase each other, the emotions swirling inside you both making you even needier. Your nails rake down his back in red streaks as he pistons into you and grinds against your hips.
“M’close, my love,” he tells you with a kiss to your neck.
“Give me a child, Jungkook,” you reply. “Fill up my womb, please.”
Jungkook groans extensively into the skin of your neck as his pushes your hips deeper into the bed so he can fuck you harder. One his hands sneaks between your bodies to massage your clit, making sure you are on the same precipice as he is.
You come together, loud moans filling the air as your pussy spasms and squeezes Jungkook’s cock inside your walls. Warmth spreads through you as his cum fills you up and he fucks it deeper into you. Gasping at how utterly full you feel, you go to move until Jungkook stops you with a squeeze to your hip.
“Not yet,” he whispers. “I do not want you to lose a single drop.”
The thought of Jungkook’s seed sitting deep inside your womb and him refusing to pull out to keep it there has you moaning all over again.
You whine at the feeling of emptiness that overtakes you when he does finally leave the warmth of your cunt. You’re in delirium from all the climaxes and pleasure your husband gave to you and you can barely keep your eyes open.
Jungkook cleans away any excess fluid from between your legs with a rag before tucking you in and joining you in the bed. He kisses you goodnight with a peck to your lips and forehead before telling you he loves you again. You are already halfway asleep, but make an attempt to tell him the same nonetheless.
The honeymoon gets extended to three months, simply because Jungkook refuses to share you with anyone else; completely content with having you all to himself for just a while longer. Now that the feelings you were both hiding for so long are out in the open, you want to enjoy your time together without reality sneaking its way in.
When you do finally return, you’re very much pregnant. Initially, you and Jungkook decide to keep it a secret, but then his mother notices the small bump over your womb and practically shouts the news from the rooftop of the castle. Your mother and father are absolutely elated and everytime they even glance at you tears of joy well up in their eyes.
Your pregnancy is celebrated all throughout the Kingdom with festivals and parades, but there’s one person you never hear congratulations from. In fact, you barely see him around the many halls and rooms which surround you, as if he’s merely a myth your mind conjured up.
Once you do see Taehyung, it’s a far cry from the reunion you were hoping for. All he does is bow to you before continuing on down the corridor. His eyes don’t even meet yours and his expression is stone cold and empty. Your heart absolutely shatters in two and you find solace in the library to cry the ache away.
Jungkook finds you before anyone else does, his eyes going wide when he sees you slumped over with your head in your hands.
“Darling?” He crouches down before you and pulls your head up by your chin. “My love, what is wrong? Is it something with the baby?”
“No,” you cry and shake your head. “Taehyung… he will not even look at me.”
Jungkook frowns and tucks some of your hair behind your ear.
“Just give him some time,” he tells you.
You shake your head again.
“No, I need to speak to him. I have to tell him why I accepted your proposal and not his,” you explain.
“Taehyung proposed to you?” Jungkook asks, shock evident in his tone.
“Yes, when he came to tell me he was leaving for the war,” you state. “He told me he would come back and marry me, but I did not give him an answer.”
“Why not?”
“Because I have only ever loved you, Jungkook.”
Just as you feared, time does nothing to bridge the gap between you and your best friend.
The war ends six months into your pregnancy, and even as all the residents of the castle gather in the ballroom for a celebratory feast, he utters not a single word to you. When you give birth a few months later, your relationship is still not mended and you fear it never will be.
PRESENT DAY
Taehyung thinks he’s going to throw up. His hands are sweaty and shaking, his internal temperature is dropping, and his leg won’t stop bouncing against the bleachers. Despite all that, he can’t bring himself to peel his eyes away from you and Jungkook as you enter the gym together.
Jungkook’s fingers are laced with yours as you walk just ahead of him. Your smile is so bright when you glance back at him momentarily and all Taehyung can think is that you don’t know. You have no idea you’re holding hands with your own killer.
Once you reach the other cheerleaders you wrap your arms around Jungkook’s neck and hug him. He smiles at your embrace and nuzzles his head in the junction of your neck and shoulder, pecking your cheek before letting you go. You mouth “I love you” to him and his smile grows as he repeats the phrase back to you. As if it could get worse, Jungkook taps your ass before walking towards the locker room. You don’t even turn around to scold him, just playfully slap his hand as he laughs and leaves you with your teammates.
Bile threatens to scratch Taehyung's esophagus as he watches Jungkook stroll away from you and disappear into the locker room. He hopes no one notices his staring problem, but it’s impossible for him to look away from the reincarnation of his former best friend.
This shouldn’t be possible and yet he can’t deny what’s right in front of his own eyes.
A buzzer pulls Taehyung from his thoughts and the game begins with introductions of both teams. You’re standing courtside in your usual spot at the center of the formation. You cheer as they announce all the players and you yell even louder when they announce Jungkook, after which he winks at you and returns to his position on the court.
The irony of a former King and Queen being reincarnated as the captain of the cheerleading squad and the captain of the basketball team doesn’t escape Taehyung. Because what else would they be?
Taehyung would love nothing more than to enjoy the game and cheer along with the rest of the crowd, but his mind is slowly spiraling into madness.
He needs to find out if Jungkook remembers his past life or not.
If Jungkook does have his memories, that means he’s dating you when he knows what he did and you don’t. Taehyung’s face scrunches in disgust at the thought. He would have to be getting off on it if that’s the case, of knowing he has you back in his clutches while you’re clueless.
On the other hand, if Jungkook doesn’t remember his last life, then you two are clearly drawn together by some other force of nature that Taehyung isn’t aware of. Perhaps this is just the way your fates are always meant to align, with you and Jungkook together while Taehyung has to come in and save you from him. At least this time Jungkook doesn’t have the authority to murder you.
The biggest question of the night is still how.
Sometime before you and Taehyung were killed, he sought out a sorceress to cast a protection spell. The spell was simple, but it could only be cast on one of you, so Taehyung made the decision to cast it on you instead of himself. It read:
The person you love will follow you into the next life, and with a kiss, your memories will be returned to you.
Taehyung chose the spell because he wanted you and him to get a do-over in case something bad happens to you. The only requirement of the spell is that you have to die together, or at least in quick succession to one another. Since that prerequisite was met, you were reincarnated and he has knowledge of his past life.
Jungkook being here adds a wrench of astronomical proportions to his plans and makes him wonder if Jungkook cast a spell of his own before he killed you. Maybe he got wind of what Taehyung had done and decided to add himself into the mix.
He may never find out, especially if Jungkook is truly clueless to who he was before.
When the game ends, Taehyung watches with a clenched jaw as Jungkook scoops you into his arms and lifts you off the ground. You giggle as he does it and the sound is so beautiful it almost brings tears to Taehyung’s eyes. He can practically feel the happiness radiating from you as Jungkook kisses you before setting you back down on the floor.
It feels like the past is haunting him and laughing in his face. The image of you two before him is so familiar he can almost picture you in your wedding gown instead of your uniform.
You and Jungkook hold hands again as you converse with all the students coming over to congratulate the team on their big win. Taehyung knows it’s now or never and makes his way down to greet you two.
“Taehyung!” You wave at him with your free hand.
Jungkook looks up to follow your line of sight. He doesn’t look stunned by the sound of Taehyung’s name and his eyes don’t go wide when he spots him amongst the crowd, so that must be a good sign.
“Hey,” Taehyung says as he steps in front of you.
“Taehyung, this is Jungkook and Jungkook, this is Taehyung,” you introduce the two boys.
Taehyung could laugh out loud at the irony of it.
“Hey man, it’s nice to finally meet you,” Jungkook says as he shakes Taehyung’s hand. “Y/N has told me all about you. I’m glad she finally has someone to study with who doesn’t distract her.”
“You mean yourself?” You say, turning to him with a smirk.
He teasingly blows a kiss at you and your head tilts to the right, accompanied by your usual nose scrunch and smile combo.
“It’s nice to meet you, too,” Taehyung says with a forced smile. If he could go a hundred lives without ever meeting Jungkook again, he would. “She talks about you a lot, as well. The mysterious boyfriend.”
“Yeah, I wish we could’ve met sooner. This one says we would get along great,” Jungkook explains.
He moves behind you to rest his arms over your shoulders, his chin meeting your hair. Your fingers absentmindedly trace his tattoos where his arms hang over your chest. Taehyung’s eyes follow every movement and he has to fight not to lose his mind at the displays of affection.
“You think so?” Taehyung asks you and you nod repeatedly.
“Oh, yeah,” you answer. “I don’t know what it is, I can just tell you’d be like two peas in a pod.”
“Well, we should all hang out sometime and see if she’s right,” Taehyung suggests.
He only does so because he needs to know for sure about Jungkook’s memories. If he can find ways to test him and possibly trip him up, he will.
“I’m always right,” you argue.
“Mmhm, sure you are, my love,” Jungkook says as he kisses your shoulder before standing back up to his full height and taking your hand.
Taehyung almost visibly recoils at the sound of one of Jungkook’s old pet names for you.
“We have to get going to the team’s celebration dinner, but I’ll text you and maybe we can plan something with the three of us?” You propose.
You go to grab your bag but Jungkook is already slinging it over his shoulder. When you notice, you smile and slap his arm playfully.
“Yeah, sounds great,” Taehyung responds.
Jungkook waves goodbye and you follow suit before you’re both turning around and heading for the door. You lay your head on Jungkook’s bicep as you walk and he bends over to kiss the top of your head.
Taehyung throws his head back with a groan. He’s waited hundreds of years and spent the last 20 or so looking for you only to find you in Jungkook’s arms yet again. He wants to have a word with the universe so he can really speak his mind on the matter.
You text him a couple days later inviting him to a party with some athletes at an off-campus house. It isn’t ideal, but he needs to get as close to you as possible if this is ever going to work.
The familiar stench of cheap beer and marijuana is already infiltrating Taehyung’s nostrils as he enters. In fact, he walks right through someone’s puff cloud and coughs his whole way into the house. Once inside, he grabs a strong drink from the kitchen and starts searching for you.
When he finds you, you’re facing his direction while closing one eye to better aim your ping pong ball. Jungkook is opposite you, his back to Taehyung, as everyone waits with bated breath for the outcome of your shot.
You toss the ping pong ball with precision and it bounces once on the table before sinking right in the center cup. Throwing your hands up to cheer, your proud eyes find Jungkook’s to validate your accomplishment even though he’s on the opposing team.
“Ha! Take that, Kook,” you tease.
“Alright, alright, I’ll give you that one,” Jungkook responds as he grabs the ball from the cup and downs the drink. “But it’s the last one you’re going to get, baby.”
Jungkook is much quicker than you with his aim and sinks his ball into the matching cup on your side of the table. He puts his arms out and shrugs when you pout in his direction. Rolling your eyes, you chug the beer before setting the cup to the side.
Taehyung stands to the side to watch the rest of the beer pong tournament and unfortunately for you, Jungkook was right, and you never land a ball in one of his cups again.
When the game ends you sulk your way over to Jungkook, making a show of crossing your arms over your chest and pouting at him. Taehyung has to look away when he notices Jungkook bending down to kiss the pout away. By the time he looks back, Jungkook has his arm around your shoulders and yours is around his waist.
“Oh, Tae, hi!” You shout when you notice him. “Oh wait, can I call you that?”
“Of course,” Taehyung replies with a smile. “Hey Jungkook.”
“Hey, what’s up? Glad you could make it,” Jungkook says.
“You know I think the rules of boyfriendship say you’re supposed to let your girlfriend win at these things,” Taehyung points out.
“See! What did I say?”
You look up at Jungkook, the pout returning with a vengeance.
Jungkook squishes your cheeks between his fingers and coos at you mockingly. You giggle and your eyes squeeze shut before pushing him away with a gentle shove to his chest.
“I never let anyone win,” Jungkook states.
I am fully aware.
“It’s true, he’s stupid competitive, but he’s also magically good at fucking everything, so it kinda works in his favor,” you explain.
“I bet I could beat you at something,” Taehyung says casually.
Jungkook’s eyebrows move up his forehead, a big toothy grin appearing on his face.
“Am I finally about to face a worthy opponent?” He asks rhetorically, his voice pitching up with eagerness. “What’s your game, Taetae?”
Taetae?
Taehyung is almost tempted to ask Jungkook to slice his neck open again. It’s becoming increasingly difficult to feign nicety when all he wants to do is punch the guy. Whether he has his memories or not, he’s still the only obstacle left standing in Taehyung’s path to you.
“Um,” Taehyung scopes out the landscape of the house. “Darts?”
Jungkook nods, pursing his lips as he thinks and gazes at the dart board.
“I can do darts,” he replies.
You leave to grab more drinks while they stroll over to the empty corner where the dart board is hanging. Jungkook pulls the darts from the board and tosses some to Taehyung before stepping back behind the duck tape marking the floor. He gestures with his hands for Taehyung to go first.
“So, I don’t want to make anything awkward, but I feel like I have to give you the obligatory ‘don’t try anything with my girl’ speech,” Jungkook says after Taehyung has thrown his first dart. “Not to say you guys can’t hang out because I’m not like that. She can do whatever she wants. I just like to let guys know that I mean business, ya know?”
“What do you mean?” Taehyung asks.
“I mean that I’m head over heels in love and would do just about anything to keep her next to me,” Jungkook states. He aims quickly and throws his first dart. “As long as she wants me, of course.”
“And if she didn’t… want you, I mean, would you fight for her?” Taehyung continues before taking his next throw.
“Of course I would,” Jungkook responds with a shrug, as if it’s the easiest answer in the world. “She means everything to me.”
Taehyung can hear the sincerity in Jungkook’s voice and it reflects in his eyes, too, even in the dim lighting.
“I hear you, Jungkook. Loud and clear,” Taehyung says before gesturing for Jungkook to take his next shot. “How did you guys meet anyway?”
Jungkook takes a sip from his cup before throwing his next dart, the guy barely has to look at the board and he still hits a bullseye. Some things never change.
“The weekend before freshman orientation all the athletes move in early and have this big mixer,” Jungkook explains. “She took my fucking breath away from across the room, but we were actually friends for a long time before we started dating.”
“Why is that?” Taehyung throws his last dart and then leans against the nearby railing.
“Well, honestly, I wanted to try out the whole ‘soil your oats’ thing when I first got to college, but then the more time I spent with her, the more I couldn’t get her off my mind. I never even touched another girl the whole year, even before we got together.”
“Baby, I brought drinks!” Your sweet voice rings out before they can continue their conversation.
Jungkook turns around at the sound of it, a huge smile on his face even though you’ve only been gone a couple minutes.
“Oh, thanks, Princess.”
He greets you with a kiss as he takes the beer bottle from your hand.
Taehyung has to hide the way his teeth grind together at the nickname. He hates how ironic it is given that you were never a Princess, only a Queen, because you were shoved into a role you never asked for by your so-called best friend.
His inner monologue is interrupted when you hand him a beer bottle as well. He thanks you with a bow of his head before turning back to the game. Jungkook throws his last dart and then leans forward to count up the points.
“Oh, you guys are tied,” you say with a smile. “Looks like someone’s giving you a run for your money, Kook.”
“It appears so,” he responds. “I think you were right about me and Taetae, we’re gonna be great friends.”
Taehyung’s head tilts at the tiny lick of sarcasm in Jungkook’s voice. He doesn’t think you notice it, though, since you’re still smiling at your boyfriend like he hung the stars in the sky.
There isn’t a second round because you tug on Jungkook’s hand and ask him to dance with you instead. He obliges your request without hesitation, already moving towards the other room while you wave goodbye to Taehyung. Once you’re gone, Taehyung runs his fingers through his hair and looks at the dart board with matching scores. Figures.
He doesn’t see you again until much later after he’s had a little too much to drink. When he does, he immediately regrets coming to look for you.
Jungkook is pinning you against the wall as he kisses you slowly, his mouth moving against yours like he has all the time in the world. His knee is between your thighs and he’s caressing your waist beneath your shirt. You make out hungrily, his tongue slipping into your mouth while you bite on his lower lip. Jungkook grips your jaw and kisses your neck, sucking on your skin and making you whimper. Your hands run up his back and grip tightly onto his jacket.
“Kook,” you moan. “Upstairs.”
Jungkook nods at your command from where his face is still against your neck. Without missing a beat, he takes your hand and leads you around the corner to the back stairwell. Taehyung can hear your giggles as you two run up the stairs together.
Taehyung actually does get sick this time. It’s a mixture of the alcohol and his mind agonizing over the thought of you two in a bedroom alone together. His knuckles turn white as he grips the edge of the toilet bowl he’s currently bent over.
Jungkook shouldn’t get to touch you like that, shouldn’t get to hold you or kiss you after what he did.
Taehyung’s eyes snap shut as the memory of you clutching your bleeding neck flashes in his mind. He presses his knuckles to his eyelids to try and get the image to go away. It never does. Taehyung is constantly haunted by the look of terror in your eyes as you fall over and bleed out right in front of him.
He presses his forehead against the cabinet next to him as he tries to catch his breath. He still isn’t sure if Jungkook has his memories or not, but it doesn’t matter anymore. You deserve to know exactly who you’re dating.
A few days later, you’re sitting across from him with half a gummy worm hanging from your mouth while you read something on your laptop. Every so often you start typing and your brow creases in concentration. Taehyung can’t keep his eyes off you for a second. You’re undeniably endearing and it’s taking everything in him not to reach across the table and kiss you right now.
“Jungkook says he really likes you,” you say without looking up.
“Really? I honestly couldn’t tell,” Taehyung replies.
“Oh yeah, no, he talked about you a lot after the party. Said he finally met his match,” you continue.
“Hmm, he wasn’t jealous at all?”
You look up with confusion written on your face.
“No,” you stretch out the syllable. “Should he be?”
“No, no! I just know him and I talked about it a bit and —”
“Talked about what?”
“Well, about you being his and that I should respect that,” Taehyung explains.
“Oh, yeah, he does that,” you say with a wave of your hand. “In his eyes, I’m the most beautiful girl in the world, so everyone must want me, ya know?”
“You are,” Taehyung accidentally says before biting his lip aggressively. Your eyes bulge as you stare at him in shock across the table. “I… I didn’t mean it like that.”
You nod, your lip held captive between your teeth while you look everywhere but at Taehyung.
“Um —”
“Y/N, I’m so sorry,” Taehyung interrupts. “I promise, I’m not trying to make a move on you or steal you away from Jungkook. You just… I mean, objectively, you are beautiful, and truth be told you remind me of someone I used to know, so I just… oh I don’t know.”
“It’s alright,” you say with a gentle smile. “Let’s just forget about it, yeah?”
You end up missing your study session with him on Thursday, shooting him a text an hour after you normally arrive that you got caught up with something else and you’ll see him next time.
Taehyung already knows next time is never going to come. You’ll subtly ghost him after making excuses for a few weeks, and he doesn’t blame you. He crossed a line and you’re trying to set some boundaries in return. But he refuses to leave you in the dark any longer, and if his plan is failing, he’ll need to come up with another one.
There’s a home basketball game tonight, so Taehyung buys a ticket at the entrance before heading into the gym. You’re already there with the other cheerleaders, but Jungkook is nowhere in sight. Taehyung knows he has to be quick about this and doesn’t hesitate to approach you courtside.
“Hey,” he greets you.
“Oh, hi,” you respond with your usual smile. Maybe you really were busy yesterday or maybe you’re just good at hiding your true emotions.
“Can we talk for a minute?”
Your body tenses at his question, and your eyes flit to the other side of the room, but you eventually nod and the two of you leave and stand in an unoccupied area behind the gym doors.
“What’s up?” You ask as you cross your arms.
“I just wanted to make sure everything is still good between us,” he admits.
You nod slowly and chew on your lip as you debate over your answer.
“Honestly? No,” you confess. “You’re really fun to hang out with and I’ve enjoyed our study time together, but what you said the other day… it’s obvious that this is more than a friendship for you and I’m not comfortable continuing to hang out one-on-one knowing that.”
Taehyung’s hands begin to shake as he digests your words. He knows what he has to do and yet he can’t bring himself to do it.
“Look, I do like you as more than a friend, and I think you should give me a shot because Jungkook isn’t who you think he is.”
“Excuse me?” You gawk at him. “You’ve met him twice, Tae! How dare you?”
“No, Y/N, you don’t understand.”
“What don’t I understand, huh?”
“That… you don’t have all the information, but I can give it to you,” Taehyung offers.
“Information? What are you even talking about?” There’s a momentary pause until you shake your head and put your hands up in surrender. “You know what, no, I don’t even wanna know. I trust my boyfriend more than a guy I’ve known for barely three months.”
You start to walk away, moving swiftly past Taehyung, but he catches your wrist.
“Wait!”
“Taehyung, let go of me.”
“I’m sorry about this.”
Taehyung uses his grip on your wrist to pull you into him and presses his lips to yours. He never wanted to do it this way, never without your consent, but he’s losing you again and he can’t risk that.
It only lasts two seconds before you’re shoving him off of you, but it’s enough. This kiss is the final puzzle piece to returning your memories so you can be together again.
“What the hell, Tae?” You shout before running back towards the gym.
The words have barely passed your lips when the first wave hits you. It stops you in your tracks, your hands bracing themselves on the cold metal doors as images flood your mind.
Ball gowns, children playing, a grassy field with wildflowers, two horses galloping towards you, blood pooling on the floor. You gasp and your hand instinctively grabs at your neck. The mirage stops and you shake your head, thinking it’s just some bizarre daydream brought on by the stress of Taehyung’s actions.
You return to your courtside formation just in time to see Jungkook entering the gym from the locker room. As soon as your eyes land on his silhouette, more images appear.
A large bed in a dark room, a gold crown, white roses, a baby cradle, his hand pulling a dress up your thigh, him spinning you in the air, and finally, his eyes, sharp and cold, looking at you in disgust.
You trip over nothing at all, accidentally bumping into your teammate behind you. She asks if you’re alright, but you're too frazzled to verbally answer her and nod instead.
Jungkook notices your abnormal behavior from across the room and pivots to walk towards you. When he does, the Jungkook you know seemingly blinks out of existence and is replaced by a version of him in medieval attire with a crown on his head. You blink rapidly to eradicate the hallucination, but it only lasts for a split second before you see him in his basketball uniform again.
Lifting your hands to stop him from coming any closer, you avoid his eyes and turn around to take a sip of water. Your head is pounding as unfamiliar scenes infiltrate your mind one at a time. Nothing makes sense and you wonder if you somehow fell asleep and are dreaming all of this. You pinch your forearm and flinch when your nails dig in and send a sharp pain through your skin.
You try to steady your breathing, but the images are unyielding and overwhelming. Looking up into the bleachers, you see Taehyung, and just like before, he phases into a version of himself wearing knight’s armor and a shield.
Grasping the side of your head and massaging your temple, you turn back towards the game just as the buzzer sounds.
The roar of the crowd and the players yelling commands at each other only serves to make matters worse. You brace your head between your hands and bend over, willing the kaleidoscope of visions to cease. Squeezing your eyes shut, you count your inhales and exhales in a feeble attempt to self soothe.
Another cheerleader rubs your back and asks if you’re feeling okay, but her voice sounds like it’s coming from underwater. All you can see, hear, and feel are the vivid daydreams of you, Taehyung, and Jungkook in medieval clothes as you stroll around a huge stone castle. The last thing you see is Taehyung held taut by two knights. A deep, foreboding aura seeps into your bones and then you feel a sharp blade slice across your jugular.
Everything fades to black as you pass out.
“Oh, my God, Y/N,” the cheerleader behind you gasps as you fall into her.
All movement on the court comes to a screeching halt, and Jungkook is throwing the ball out of his hands before running over to you.
“What happened?” He asks as he bends down. His fingers gently move your hair away from your face and he presses the back of his hand to your forehead to check your temperature.
“I don’t know, she looked like she was having a migraine and then she was just out,” someone explains.
Taehyung starts moving through the stands to reach you, but before he can, your eyes begin to blink open. He stands still as a statue as he watches you take in your surroundings. When you see Jungkook leaning over you, you gasp and move away.
“No… no,” you whimper.
“Baby?”
“No, don’t touch me,” you yell when his hand goes to caress your arm.
“Y/N, it’s me.”
“No, no, no,” you cry as you cradle your head in your hands. “Make it stop, please make it stop.”
Jungkook looks at the girl still holding you in horror, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes.
The first-aid team runs in and heads towards the commotion. One of them tries to move you, but you only wail louder and coil into yourself, preventing them from doing anything to help.
“We’re gonna need to sedate her,” one of them says.
“What?” Jungkook asks with wide eyes. “What do you mean?”
The paramedic doesn’t answer him, they just stick a small needle in your arm and push the medicine into your vein. Your cries subside into whimpers almost immediately, and then you’re out cold again.
The gym is completely silent as everyone watches with concern for you and your wellbeing.
The paramedics move you to a stretcher and roll you out of the gym. Jungkook stands to follow them, but not before turning over his shoulder and meeting eyes with Taehyung.
“You, with me, now,” he orders.
And that’s the moment Taehyung finally knows for sure. Jungkook has his memories. He knows exactly who he was in his past life, and more importantly, what he did.
1430
You’re clutching your dress between the fingers of your left hand as you take quick steps down the hall, attempting to catch up to the tiny figure ahead of you. The five year old is far too quick for your liking, and she’s mischievous in nature which only makes it worse.
“Sooyoung,” you call when you finally catch up to her, scooping her into your arms when you’re close enough. “What did mommy say about running in the corridors? There are big, pointy objects all around and you could run into one.”
“Sorry, mommy,” she giggles, tucking herself into your chest.
You rub her back and place a kiss in her hair. Just then, you hear the sound of a door opening and Jungkook steps out, running his hands through his hair methodically.
“Daddy!” Sooyoung shouts and wiggles herself away from you.
Putting her down, you watch as her little feet carry her to his side. Jungkook stops in his tracks, his eyes bright with affection and a large toothy grin on his face. When she finally reaches him, he lifts her up by her waist, bringing her over his head as she giggles endlessly before resting her against his hip.
“How is my beautiful Princess doing?”
“Good, I learned the alphabet this morning,” she tells him.
“You did? Baby, that is wonderful,” he praises her. She smiles and leans over to plant a wet smooch on his cheek. Jungkook laughs and returns the favor to her, kissing her multiple times until she tells him to stop with a giggle. When Jungkook reaches you he leans down to kiss your lips. “Hi, my love.”
“Hello, my King,” you say as he passes Sooyoung over to you. You put her down and let her roam in the room just off to the left where some of her toys are. “Are you joining us for lunch?”
“No, my darling, I cannot,” he says with a frown. You mirror his expression and he tucks some of your hair behind your ear. “I am sorry, my Queen. You know I would if it were up to me.”
“I know,” you reply.
Even though the war which took the lives of Jungkook’s brother and father ended shortly before you gave birth to your first son, another one broke out three months ago. Thankfully, since his heirs are too young to rule in his stead, there was a mutual agreement that Jungkook wouldn’t go away to fight because of what happened during the last war. But even though he’s here with you, moments like this are some of the only ones you get to spend together.
Other than these brief encounters when you happen to cross paths, the only time you see him is when he comes to bed for the night. During the first month of the war, you would stay up for him, waiting in eager anticipation for the sound of his footsteps coming down the corridor. When he did finally arrive, he would sweep you up into his arms and make love to you before tucking you into bed and falling asleep with you in his hold. Over time, his entrances into your bedroom came later and later, and you would fall asleep while waiting for him. Now, he simply presses a kiss to your forehead in your sleep before pulling you into his arms. When you wake up, he’s usually already gone.
Everytime you get so much as a glimpse of him, it soothes the melancholy feeling in your heart and brings a smile to your face. Even if all you see is a familiar head of black hair and broad shoulders turning around a corner.
Time moves torturously slow without him beside you and you feel the ache of missing him all the way down to your bones. The loneliness is becoming unbearable, especially since your two eldest children, Sooyoung, who is almost five, and Junghyun, named after his late uncle, who is seven, are busy with their tutor most of the day. That leaves you with your identical twin boys, Minho and Wonshik, who are two. They’re quite entertaining, but nothing can fill the void of not having your beloved husband around.
“Perhaps I will see you tonight?” You ask.
“I hope so,” Jungkook says as he caresses your cheek. He bends down to kiss you again, for longer this time now that your daughter is out of the way. “I love you, my Queen, so very much.”
“I love you more,” you reply with a final peck.
Jungkook raises his eyebrow to silently challenge your statement before waving goodbye to you and your daughter as he continues down the corridor.
Sighing in exasperation, you call for your daughter and take her hand as you walk towards the dining hall to eat lunch with your other children.
Some days later you’re walking through the large gardens behind the castle while the twins nap inside. Early afternoons are the only time of day when you’re able to take a break from motherhood and be alone with your thoughts. Although, you’re certainly not lacking in alone time at the moment.
As you pass by the hedges on your way back inside, you spot Taehyung speaking with some fellow knights. You no longer attempt to make eye contact with him and neither does he. It’s been nearly eight years since you last spoke besides obligatory greetings or discussions involving his duties. The idea of you two ever being close again is a pipe dream you stopped hoping for long ago. You miss him dearly, and you always will, but it’s useless driving yourself mad over an impossibility.
After lunch, you hear a knock at the nursery door where you’re playing with Minho and Wonshik. When you see Taehyung enter after allowing the visitor entry, you’re taken aback. He’s usually only ever with Jungkook or completely a task on his behalf.
“Sir Taehyung, can I help you?” You ask him.
“I am assigned to be here, your Majesty,” he answers you flatly.
“Pardon?”
“The King has assigned me to be your personal guard.”
“Why would I need a personal guard?” You question, pulling Minho closer to your chest. There’s never been a reason or need for you to be under supervision before and you don’t like the sound of it.
“The battlefront has moved closer to the Eastern border and as such, King Jungkook wants you and the children to each be guarded day and night in the event that the enemy breaks down our defenses or sneaks into the Kingdom,” he explains.
You nod as you digest the news, looking down at your two-year old who gazes back with familiar big, brown eyes. Putting him back on the ground to play with his twin, you stand and walk towards Taehyung.
“If that is the case I believe we should have a conversation, Sir Taehyung.”
“I do not believe that is necessary, my Queen.”
“I think it is,” you argue. “If you are going to be with me around the clock I do not want it to be awkward.”
Taehyung grimaces and chews on his bottom lip as he thinks about his following words. You cross your arms over your chest for good measure, even though you look nowhere near intimidating.
“I do not wish to speak about the past, but I will attempt to be cordial with you for the sake of the arrangement,” he proposes. “Is that alright with you, your Highness?”
You mull it over in your mind for a minute before nodding curtly and turning back towards your children.
His assignment of guarding you is considerably more boring compared to his usual duties. All he does is walk behind you at a reasonable distance while you traverse the gardens, stand behind your seat at meal times, guard the door while you read in the library, and sit in the nursery with you as you play with the children.
Despite Taehyung assuring you otherwise, the first days of his assignment are extremely awkward. He hardly speaks to you and when he does, it’s clipped and cold. But time seems to massage the tension away and slowly, but surely, he warms up to you.
The first time you see him smile is when Wonshik decides to come towards you for a hug and falls flat on his face. Your whole body tenses in shock when you hear the nostalgic sound of Taehyung chuckling behind you. It brings a huge smile to your face even as you’re trying to calm Wonshik down from his accident.
Eventually, the quiet moments turn into real conversations.
You often stop to enjoy nature during your garden walks and there’s a large bench near the creek you like sitting on. One day, your hand taps against the stone and you look over your shoulder at Taehyung. He raises his eyebrows, silently asking if you mean for him to sit there. When you nod, he waits a few moments before moving towards you and sitting down on the other end of the bench.
“Is this not the most beautiful view?” You ask as you gaze out across the creek.
“It is one of them, for sure,” Taehyung answers.
It’s the first time he’s said anything of substance to you in close to a decade, and you almost begin to cry at the thought.
“The valley by my house was beautiful, too, but I believe I prefer this,” you state. Taehyung only hums in response. “Do you have any special spots around the castle you think are particularly nice?”
“I do, actually,” Taehyung says. “There is a corridor just off the maid’s quarters where they store the new and old artwork as they cycle through them. I go there sometimes and look at the art up close. Not many people know about it, so it is always peaceful.”
You admire his profile as he speaks, and a smile appears on your lips involuntarily. Even with the passage of time, his features are identical to the boy you once knew. Losing his friendship has always been your biggest heartbreak, and you can feel your soul slowly healing whenever you’re with him.
That encounter becomes the starting point for your new relationship with Taehyung. It becomes a routine to stop and chat during your daily walks, and you look forward to it everyday. As time goes on your conversations grow longer and dive deeper. You never touch on the past, but you don’t need to. The friendship picks up where it left off as if no time has passed at all.
A few months into Taehyung’s assignment as your personal guard, you’re walking through the garden when Jungkook comes out from the castle.
“Darling?” You call out to him when you see him. “What are you doing out here?”
“I came to say goodbye, my love. I have to leave to speak to some allies in a neighboring town,” he tells you.
You frown and your shoulders drop. When Jungkook reaches you he takes your hands in his and kisses them.
“How long will you be gone?”
“Three days.”
“That is Sooyoung’s birthday.”
“Well, then I will make it two days,” he responds without missing a beat.
“Are you sure?”
Jungkook smiles and tucks your hair behind your ear.
“I would not miss it for the world, my love,” he assures you. You acknowledge his promise with a nod before wrapping your arms around his neck to hug him goodbye. He returns the gesture in kind, lifting your heels off the ground as he embraces you tightly. “I love you, I will see you soon.”
He kisses you for a lingering moment before nodding towards Taehyung and leaving to meet the parliamentarians in the entryway of the castle.
You bite down hard on your lip to stop the bubbling sorrow within you from spilling over to the surface, but it does so anyway. Hands coming up to hide your face, a sob breaks from your chest as your palms collect your tears.
“Your Majesty? Is everything alright?” Taehyung asks, his surprise at your reaction evident in his tone. He moves to stand in front of you.
“I am sorry, I do not mean to be emotional,” you say as you lift your head and wipe the tears away.
“That is nothing to apologize for,” he states. “Can I do anything?”
“No, no,” you respond. “Unless you know how to end this Godforsaken war.”
“Is it the war that is upsetting you, my Queen?”
“Yes, because it is the war that is keeping my husband from me.”
“What do you mean, your Highness?”
“I have not had a real conversation with Jungkook in nearly half a year, Sir Taehyung,” you tell him. “Moments like these are all I get. He is too busy with battle strategies and trade routes to spend any time with me or the children.”
“Your Highness, I am so sorry to hear that. I was not aware,” he replies.
“I should not be telling you this, I apologize,” you say. “Please forget I mentioned anything.”
“Your Highness, if there is anything I can do to help, please let me know,” Taehyung offers.
The conversation ends there and you finish your stroll before returning inside to your children for dinner. When you tell them about Jungkook being gone, they all cry the same as you, not used to their father being gone even though he’s around less these days. The sentiment is shared amongst all five of you. You feel Jungkook’s absence from the castle everywhere you turn even if you wouldn’t normally see him anyway.
Exiting your room the next day, you find Taehyung outside your door as usual, but he has something hidden in his left hand. Before you have the opportunity to question him about it, he pulls a bouquet of wildflowers from behind his back.
“I wanted to cheer you up, your Majesty, I hope I am not overstepping.” The flowers are purple and white, same as the ones which grew outside your home. You gasp in delight, your hands coming up to cover your mouth.
“Oh, Taehyung, they are so beautiful,” you tell him as he hands them to you. “Thank you so very much.”
You don’t realize your slip of the tongue, the honorific noticeably absent when you say his name, and it brings a smile to your companion’s face.
“I am glad you like them, my Queen,” he says with a deep bow.
You smile at him, your head tilting to the right as your nose scrunches, before putting your nose to the bouquet to smell the flower’s sweet scent. It reminds you of home and fills you with a deep, comforting warmth.
Over the next two days you and Taehyung begin to speak even more, conversing as you walk the halls and making jokes while playing with the children. Taehyung even joins you on the floor and playfully teases the twins with a game of peek-a-boo. It’s the happiest you’ve been in months. You still miss Jungkook dearly, but the loneliness that’s made a home inside your heart goes away on a brief vacation.
By the morning of Sooyoung’s birthday Jungkook has yet to return, but you still have hope he’ll make it back before the end of the day.
You’re arranging some of her presents sent from family members and citizens alike when Taehyung enters with some more that were just dropped off. As you’re moving one of the larger gifts, your hair falls into your face and you attempt to push it away by blowing air out of your mouth since your hands are full.
Suddenly, you feel a fingertip against your cheek, and you look over to see Taehyung moving the strand out of the way for you. He’s close enough that you can see the deep chocolate color of his irises.
An unfamiliar tension threads itself between you both as you stand in silence only inches apart. Taehyung opens his mouth to say something, but is interrupted by a voice coming from outside the room.
“Where is my beautiful wife?”
Your eyes light up at the sound of Jungkook’s voice, breaking the moment between you and Taehyung in an instant. Rushing towards the door, you throw it open and look for the source of your husband’s voice.
Jungkook spots you from down the hall and he sighs in relief, an adoring smile growing on his lips. Running towards him without another thought, you laugh cheerfully as he opens his arms to welcome you into his chest.
Instead of hugging you, though, he grabs you by the waist and lifts you above his head as he often does with your daughter. You make a sound somewhere between a laugh and a squeal before wrapping your arms around his neck as he brings you down into his embrace.
“Oh, I missed you, my darling,” he whispers into your hair.
“I missed you so much, Jungkook,” you respond and bury your face into his shoulder. “You made it back in time.”
“I promised you I would, did I not?” You look up and nod, fresh tears evident in your eyes. He frowns when he notices them and reaches up to wipe the tears away. “What is wrong, my love?”
“I just missed you, that is all,” you answer.
Jungkook nods in agreement before bending down to kiss you. Your mouths move together in a practiced rhythm, his hand holding the back of your head to keep you against him. Your fingers curl around the fabric of his shirt as he tilts his head to kiss you with more fervor. He swallows the noise you make when his tongue traces your bottom lip and sinks into your mouth. It’s a passionate dance you haven’t experienced in months, and it almost makes you start crying again.
You reluctantly pull away, the breath missing from your lungs, as your hands tighten around the collar of his shirt.
“I am sorry it has been so long since I have done that,” Jungkook pants as he caresses your face. “I hope you know I think about it all the time. I am always thinking of you, my Y/N.”
You nod as another tear rolls down your cheek. Jungkook kisses it away before letting you go so he can greet the children.
Your strange moment with Taehyung is forgotten, and weeks go by with your friendship continuing to blossom as it did over those two days.
Jungkook leaves again, this time for a week, to visit with the ruler of a neighboring Kingdom who can possibly help end the war. It breaks your heart all over again, even though you know a week isn’t that long. The distance between you has just grown so wide, that seeing him between meetings and feeling his arms around you at night is the only thing keeping you sane.
You haven’t had sex since the first month of the war, and it feels like you’re being slowly drawn and quartered. Before, sex was almost a nightly occurrence, sometimes even twice a day if the children were with their grandparents. Jungkook spoiled you with pleasure, and now the torture of being without his touch is downright unbearable.
Sometimes you pleasure yourself, just to take the edge off, but it’s nothing compared to Jungkook. He knows your body better than you do, and your hands don’t even come close to doing him justice.
Last night you cried yourself to sleep from the pain of missing him and the need pulsating in your thighs. You’d do anything, even take up a sword yourself, to end this war so you can have him back. Whenever he’s gone, it feels like the weight of the entire castle is sitting on your chest.
Your emotions from the night before are still evident on your face this morning, and Taehyung notices.
“Are you alright, your Majesty?” He asks after greeting you in the library. “Your eyes look swollen, did you have a negative reaction to something you ate?”
“No,” you say with a shake of your head.
“Then, what is it, my Queen?” Taehyung probes with a look of concern.
“It is nothing, Sir Taehyung,” you answer. “I was merely missing my husband again.”
Taehyung frowns and takes a step closer to you. You notice the movement, but don’t step back as you normally would.
“Is there anything I can do? Anyway I can help you, your Majesty?”
Taehyung’s gaze is piercing and it makes your face and neck flush with a pink hue. Without warning, an undeniable heat begins to spread across your abdomen and simmer in your gut. You know the sensation all too well, but you’ve never felt something like this for Taehyung, even before you were married. Forcing your eyes shut, you will the temptation to disappear. But it’s been so long since you’ve been touched, and Taehyung is the one constant in your life at the moment.
“I… am not sure,” you admit.
“Is it just him that you miss or something else as well?” Taehyung asks cautiously. “I cannot do anything about your husband not being here, but I can help in other ways.”
Biting your lip hard enough to draw blood, you avoid his stare and beg your feet to move away from him. All you need is to take a single step back and the tension will break.
“Taehyung,” you speak softly.
“Y/N,” he replies, his eyes sharpening. It’s the first time you’ve heard his voice speak your name since before you got married, before you became Queen.
“Will you help me… please?”
Taehyung moves like lightning, as if he’s been waiting an eternity for you to say those words. His warm hands engulf your waist so he can push you back until your thighs hit the large desk behind you. He lifts you effortlessly, placing you on the edge of the wood without ever breaking eye contact. Descending to his knees before you, his hands trace the curve of your legs over your dress.
Your brain is screaming at you to stop now before you’re past the point of no return. But there is nothing you can do, your body is overriding the commands which normally control your movements. It’s aching to be touched, and it no longer cares who’s doing it.
Taehyung’s hands disappear beneath your gown, caressing your ankles and calves before he’s pulling up the fabric so it rests above your knees. His head leaves your line of sight, and then you feel a featherlight touch to your covered sex.
You gasp, clapping your hand over your mouth when you do. Taehyung’s fingers trace your folds through your undergarment, and you can feel his warm breath on your inner thighs. Then, you feel him pull the fabric aside and he touches you for the first time. You moan into your palm as he dips his fingers into your essence and carries it up to your clit. He gently circles the sensitive nub before pressing down hard and rubbing. Head tipping back in euphoria, you use your elbows to keep yourself somewhat upright.
He plays with your pussy for a while, exploring the unfamiliar territory of your body, before finally sinking his fingers into your hole. Your desperate whimper is muffled by your flesh when he inserts two fingers into you and begins pumping them in and out. The wet squelch of him fucking his fingers into is almost foreign, since it’s been so long since you’ve heard it.
A shockwave of pleasure devours you whole when he kisses your clit and then flattens his tongue to lick you repeatedly. He matches the pace of his fingers and the dual sensation has you biting down on your hand to stop yourself from screaming. You feel yourself drowning in the hellish desire that’s slowly overtaking your soul.
Taehyung moans against you, removing his hand from your pussy to grip you by the thighs and pull you closer to his face. Once he’s hands-free, he begins devouring your cunt like he hasn’t eaten for days. He licks all the way up your slit before circling your clit with his tongue. Then he goes back down and kisses you as he drinks the juices leaking out of your hole. Your mind is paralyzed by the pleasure and it isn’t long before you feel your orgasm nearing.
Your hand grips his hair, tugging on the dark strands and making him grunt. He licks you harder in response, fucking his tongue into your hole and using his nose to keep friction on your clit. You come with a cry, sinking your teeth into the skin of your hand to keep yourself quiet.
It’s only then you realize you’re crying, but they aren’t tears of pleasure. The emotional response is from the unfathomable guilt and self-hatred over what you’ve just done. An act you can never take back and must live with for the rest of your life.
Taehyung licks you a few more times, slurping up your cum and moaning at the taste before rising to stand in front of you. Your chest is red and heaving as you come down from your high. He looks smug and proud of what he’s done to you, and it makes you sick.
You gag into the hand still covering your mouth before leaping off of the table and finding the nearest basin. The contents of your stomach force their way up your throat as you vomit into the receptacle. Your fingers shake and you grip the metal edge to hold yourself upright. Bile burns your esophagus as tears roll down and collect on your chin.
When your stomach is completely empty, and only mucus drips from your mouth, you fall over onto the floor. Your hands cover your face as you scream and cry. The harsh, deep sobs making you gasp for air and cough repeatedly.
“What have I done?” You wail into your hands and shake your head back and forth, as if the movement could somehow turn back time. The faces of your children and husband flash across your mind and make more tears fall. You think of Jungkook, hundreds of miles away, probably wondering how you’re doing, and your soul tears itself to shreds. “Oh, God, what have I done?”
Taehyung crouches down next to you and moves his hand along your spine to soothe you as best he can. You’re undeserving of his affection, the only thing you deserve now is damnation.
Jungkook comes home three days later. You get sick again as soon as you hear his voice filtering in from down the hall.
A month goes by without you or Taehyung mentioning the incident. You push forward and pretend like nothing happened, or least you do. It’s uncertain how Taehyung feels, but frankly, you don’t care to know. The only thing that matters is that it can never happen again. You’ve loved Jungkook since you were a child, and the putrid thought of betraying him again is enough to send you to your grave.
But it’s hard, it's so very hard. Because he isn’t here beside you to hold you and kiss you and remind you that everything’s going to be alright. You only hear his voice every few days, if that; only feel his touch once every other week if you happen to wake up in the night and feel his arm around you. The loneliness is suffocating you from the inside and you feel it choking you to death more and more everyday.
You cry for hours on end most days. The self-hatred, guilt, sorrow, and despair mix together to create a cacophony of emotions you have no way of controlling. Taehyung just waits outside your door and listens to your sobs with no power to do anything about them.
Your children are the only joy in your life at the moment, but even spending time with them is difficult because all four of them share a pair of eyes with their father. Everywhere you look you see pieces of Jungkook, whether in the children or in the desolate halls of the castle, but you never see the man himself.
At least strolling through the gardens and speaking with Taehyung while you sit near the creek brings you peace. It reminds you so much of old times and you’re relieved to finally have your best friend back after reconnecting over these many months.
He makes you laugh and listens intently when you tell him about the books you’re reading and what the children are learning about in their lessons. In return, he talks about knighthood and whatever silliness the men got up to in their freetime. Without him, you don’t think you would be surviving this endless solitude.
“Your Majesty, if I may?” Taehyung says from beside you on the bench. You gesture with your hand for him to continue. “Forgive me for my forwardness, but your mental state is only getting worse. I do not know how much longer you can go on like this.”
Eyes glancing down, you pick at the fabric of your dress and pull at the threads with your fingers.
“I will be fine. I just have to wait until the war is over,” you state.
“Your Highness, the last war went on for close to four years, and it has not even been one yet,” he points out. “You cannot go on like this.”
“What would you have me do?”
“You already know the answer to that.”
“No,” you snap at him.
“Y/N —”
“No, do not even think of speaking it out loud,” you order him sternly. “That was the biggest regret of my life and I will not give into it again.”
“There is no reason you should be alone, Y/N!” Taehyung stands and faces you as he speaks. “Jungkook asked you to marry him and now he leaves you alone and untouched and it is killing you.”
Tears prick at your eyes as Taehyung’s words force reality close enough until you can no longer hide from it. Jungkook’s love for you is unquestionable, and you know the war is the sole reason he isn’t beside you, but the war is still ongoing, and he has no control over its end.
“Taehyung, I cannot betray him again,” you whisper, more so to yourself than to him.
“It does not have to be like that,” Taehyung argues. “It is just pleasure. A body to touch and hold you so you are no longer lonely and isolated. Nothing can take away from the love you and him share. But this situation is unfair to you, and you know it is.”
“What is in it for you, Taehyung?” You ask him. “Why are you so set on being the body which helps me with that endeavor?”
“You already know why, my Queen. My feelings have never changed, even after all this time.”
The day Taehyung confessed his feelings for you was so long ago it almost feels like another lifetime. You never responded, because you didn’t share those same feelings for him. But these months together have meant more to you than you can even articulate, and you aren’t sure if that’s still the case.
What you feel for Taehyung is very different from what you feel for Jungkook.
Jungkook is, without a shadow of a doubt, the love of your life. Your love for him burns deep within your heart like an ever-glowing hearth. It’s solid and foundational to your very being. He's your best friend, husband, and father of your children, and there’s nothing in this world that could make you love him less.
Taehyung is more like a candle, something that only burns you if you reach out and touch the flame. It’s warm and inviting during a time where your whole world feels dark. The love feels familiar because the seed was planted long ago and nourished throughout your years of friendship, but now it’s blooming.
“You still love me?”
“With every part of me.”
You pause and compartmentalize your thoughts before continuing.
“I never meant to hurt you, all those years ago,” you tell him. “I am sorry for doing so.”
“It is alright, my Queen,” he responds, taking his seat beside you again. “I know you did not have much choice in the matter.”
You assume he means the speed at which everything happened, and don’t correct him.
“I care about you very much, Taehyung.” You inhale and close your eyes, counting to four before releasing the air from your lungs. “I do love you. It… it is not like my love for my husband, but it is there. I cannot deny that.”
“Then will you let me do this for you?” Taehyung asks. When you look at him, his eyes are glossy, no doubt from the confession of your newfound feelings. “I am not asking for anything in return, your Majesty. I only want to help you.”
Your thoughts trample over one another as they all scramble for the top position on the dog pile. But you truly believe the only way you’ll survive this war is if you shut your mind off, turn out the lights and let your body puppeteer you.
Taehyung is right that your depression and isolation are slowly killing you. There’s no energy left for you to play with your children, you can barely eat or sleep, and your hair has even begun to fall out.
So, you follow him to his quarters in the Eastern wing of the castle.
You jump at the sound of the door shutting behind you and locking into place. It’s strange being inside his bedroom, but the trinkets and items scattered around the room feel familiar to you because they’re his.
Taehyung is quick to capture your lips with his and it sends a shock through your nervous system. You’ve never kissed anyone but Jungkook, and he kisses you so differently than your husband does. If Jungkook is water, Taehyung is fire. The kiss scorches you and burns across your insides until it lights a fire inside your stomach. You allow yourself to return his affection, let your lips move against his as he walks you backwards towards the bed.
The two of you fall together onto the mattress with a soft bounce. Taehyung’s hands find your own and pull them over your head, imprisoning them against the bed. He begins to kiss down your face and neck, sucking gently and licking over your skin. You moan and tilt your head to give him more access to you. It’s been so long since you’ve felt ravished and worshipped, and your body welcomes it on impulse.
He moves slowly from your neck to your chest, his lips and tongue caressing the tops of your breasts and softly biting down on the fatty flesh.
You nudge him with your knee to make him sit up before reaching around to untie your corset. Taking the hint, Taehyung begins undressing as well. His armor meets the floor with a loud metallic clap as you step out of your clothes and return to his bed.
He moves you up the mattress by your waist, all the while still kissing you and exploring your mouth with his tongue. Taehyung takes a moment to admire your bare chest before him, his hands coming up to caress your breasts and then kiss them. His tongue circles your nipple before sucking on it, turning it hard and sensitive between his teeth. You gasp and moan as your hands grab onto his hair.
Continuing down your body, Taehyung removes the undergarment hiding your pussy from him and kisses your folds. Your head falls back against the pillows as your chest rises with ragged breaths. He eats you out like it will be his last meal, and if the two of you are ever caught, it will be. His tongue fucks into your hole and the sloppy sound of your essence and his salvia mixing into one fills the room. He moves to your clit and lets his teeth scrape over the flesh. You whine as he sucks and licks on your sensitive nerve endings.
His two middle fingers enter you with a wet squelch and he starts curling them so they press against your spongy walls. You moan freely, knowing the first knight’s quarters are completely secluded. He pumps his fingers in and out of you as he devours your clit with his mouth. Your head is spinning in ecstasy. Your pussy greedily sucks his digits in and leaks essence all over his hand.
It doesn’t take long for you to come with a strained gasp, your legs shaking and clenching around his head.
Taehyung removes his fingers slowly before licking them clean and kissing along your thighs. When he kisses you again you can taste yourself on him. It’s been so long now that the flavor is almost foreign.
You push forward without reprieve, wrapping your legs around Taehyung’s thighs to flip him over. He matches your eagerness and starts pulling his undergarment off so you can pump his cock with your hand. The sound of spit has Taehyung’s eyes rolling back as you coat his length in your saliva and begin sliding your fingers up and down his shaft. He moans from deep within his chest. His eyes close as he relishes in the feeling of you jacking him off. His cock is big and thick, and your mouth waters instinctively as you think about him filling you up.
Once he’s hard and leaking precum all over your hand, you position yourself over him and sink down into his lap. The intrusion hurts at first, since your hole isn’t used to stretching open anymore, but then your pussy adjusts to the shape of him and pleasure rolls over you in waves.
Taehyung’s hands grasp desperately at your hips, his fingertips making divots in your flesh. He leans in to kiss and suck on your breasts again and you hold his head to you to continue enjoying the feeling. Hips rising until only his tip is left inside, you slam down against him and proceed to bounce on his dick at a steadfast pace. Identical moans breach the air and Taehyung sits up to kiss at your exposed throat when your head tips back. He licks across your jugular and bites into the skin below your ear. Need and desire course through you like lava as the veins of his cock rub against your velvet walls.
You force your mind into submission, refusing to allow the feelings of guilt and despair to take a single breath. This is something your body has been craving for months and now isn’t the time for your incessant thoughts to bury you in agony. For the first time in a long while, your mind is completely silent.
Tears of pleasure fall as Taehyung guides you by the hips to bounce on him harder, sending his cock deeper into your cunt until you can feel him in your stomach. When your bodies meet, you grind against his pelvis to create friction on your clit.
“You cannot come inside me,” you say through a groan. “You will have to pull out and come on my skin instead.”
Taehyung nods responsively before grabbing you by the hair to kiss you feverishly. His tongue sinks into your mouth and tangles with your own and you moan around the wet muscle. Your teeth drag his bottom lip away before letting it snap back into place. You hear him growl beneath you.
“Does it feel good, my Queen?”
“Yes,” you answer breathlessly before pushing him back onto the bed and gripping his chest to support your body.
Your nails scratch at his pecks as you fuck yourself on his hardness, leaning down to kiss his collarbones and shoulder. Taehyung takes the opportunity the new position grants him to plant his feet on the bed and thrust up into you. You scream, biting down on his shoulder to muffle the sound as he abuses your pussy. You feel his balls slapping against your ass as he fucks into you relentlessly, not slowing his pace for a single moment.
“I am going to come,” you pant into his ear.
“Please, my Queen, let me feel you finish,” he responds.
Your orgasm builds from embers into a slow-burning fire as Taehyung’s final thrusts send you over the edge. When your cunt pulses and soaks Taehyung’s length in cum he moans and rolls you over in one fluid motion. His cock leaves you empty and he fucks his hand before painting your stomach in his seed.
You gasp at the novel feeling of cum splashing onto your flesh. It’s hot and sticky, but you feel prideful over the physical manifestation of Taehyung’s pleasure on your body.
Taehyung gets up from the bed while you’re still trying to catch your breath. The feeling of a wet cloth greets you as he wipes away his cum from your skin and then throws the cloth onto a dresser.
“Did it help, your Highness?”
You can only nod in return, too fucked-out and delirious from the pleasure and adrenaline.
It does help. The two of you continue to sneak away to his quarters two to three times a week so you can use his body to relieve the ache of loneliness. Soon enough your energy returns, allowing you to play with your children again. You lovingly watch their smiles and hear their laughter as they run around the grass. Your appetite returns and your health improves, both physically and mentally. The guilt still eats at you like a famished predator, especially anytime you see Jungkook around the castle or feel him pull you into him at night, but your mind has reached its limit and it can no longer carry the weight of the world.
Neither of you speak of the feelings you shared in the garden before this all started. Taehyung knows how fragile and vulnerable your mental state is and he doesn’t want to pressure you into making this anything more than what it is; just the pleasures of the flesh, only desire, and not love.
The anniversary of the war comes and goes as if it’s just another day, and you and Taehyung continue your affair unbridled. Your entanglements don’t last much longer than that, though.
On the last day of your life, you and Taehyung are in his quarters getting dressed after sleeping together. He leans down to kiss you goodbye when the sound of his door hinges breaking forces you apart.
Four knights barge in, followed by Jungkook.
Your husband’s eyes are unrecognizable, cold and harsh, with no light in them. Reality grips you tight and your hands clasp over your mouth when you realize what must happen now. Jungkook doesn’t say a word, just gestures towards you with his head to command the knights to grab you.
“No! Wait!” You shout as they take each of your arms and restrain you between their bodies. They do the same to Taehyung and he thrashes against their hold. “Wait, Jungkook, please let me explain.” He’s turned away from you now, but you see his hands shake before clenching into fists. The membrane around your heart closes in on the beating muscle. “Jungkook, please just let me see the children,” you beg. “Let me say goodbye to them. Please, my King.”
There’s a heavy moment of silence, the only sound coming from the tears already rolling down your cheeks.
“Take her to the nursery before bringing her to me,” he instructs the knights before exiting. The knights holding Taehyung force him out of the room to follow Jungkook while they bring you in the opposite direction.
The knights hold you taut between them as you walk to where your children are with their nanny, but there is no need. You won’t fight the inevitable.
When you reach the nursery, they let go of you with a glare of warning before allowing you to go inside. The tears begin to fall again as soon as you see your children playing with their toys and books on the ground.
“Mommy!” The four of them shout in unison before running over to you, the young twins stumbling over their little legs to get to you.
You bend down and open your arms for all of them to embrace you at once. Your hands comb over their hair as you kiss their heads. The tears never once cease as you gaze at their beautiful faces.
“Why are you crying, Mommy?” Junghyun asks as he wipes at a tear on your cheek. He’s practically a mini Jungkook, his big eyes and black hair identical to his father’s.
“I have to go away for a while, and I am going to miss you so very much,” you tell him as you caress his cheek.
“Where are you going?” Sooyoung asks with tears in her own eyes.
“It does not matter, my Princess, all that matters is that I love you, and I will miss you all so, so much,” you explain as your voice breaks. “Daddy is going to take good care of you, alright? You know mommy and daddy love you more than anything, yes?”
All four of their little heads nod at you. It makes you smile through the streaks of tears coming down.
“I love you, mommy, and we will miss you, too,” Junghyun says.
He wraps his arms around your neck and you have to bite your lip to suppress a sob. Minho and Wonshik coo and make grabby hands at you for attention. You pick them up one at a time and kiss their cheeks as they tell you they “wuv you foo.”
Sooyoung, your brave little girl, wipes her own tears away before hugging you and kissing your cheek. You return the affection and brush her hair from her eyes.
“Alright. Goodbye, my loves,” you say as evenly as you can.
You don’t glance back at them as you leave. If you see them even once more, you know you will not be able to walk down the long corridor to the fate that awaits you. The knights take your arms again once you’re out of sight of the children. The tears finally cease, and you walk with your back straight and head up.
There’s no reason to cower from what lies ahead, you made your bed and now you must lay in it.
PRESENT DAY
The first-aid team brings you to the nurse’s office in the adjoining building to the gym. The nurse briefly checks your vitals before letting you sleep off the medicine in the back room. It’s supposed to last about an hour, so she places two chairs inside for Taehyung and Jungkook to sit while they wait.
Jungkook storms in first, barely allowing Taehyung to shut the door behind him before he’s facing him with rage burning in his irises.
“Really great fucking timing, Taehyung, truly,” he snaps.
Taehyung has to refrain from physically attacking Jungkook. He clenches his hands into fists until his nails make crescents in his palms.
“You disgusting piece of shit, you fucking monster!” Taehyung shouts. “How dare you hold and kiss her and let her love you when you know what you did and she’s clueless!”
“How dare I?” Jungkook mirrors his tone. “How dare you! You transferred to our fucking school and became friends with her just to try and steal her from me again.”
“I am trying to save her from you!” Taehyung says through gritted teeth.
“Save her? What am I going to do to her? I’m not a King anymore, I’m a fucking college basketball player.”
“You murdered her and she deserves to know.”
Jungkook pauses for a moment, taking a deep breath and releasing the pressure from his neck with a turn of his head.
“Executed.”
“I’m sorry?”
“I executed her, Taehyung, not murdered. And I did it because it was my fucking job as King!” Jungkook yells as he closes in on his former friend.
“She was your wife, the mother of your fucking children and —”
“YOU LEFT ME NO CHOICE!” Jungkook screams at him before stepping back again. He runs his hands down his face and pushes his hair back before continuing, calmer this time. “What did you want me to do, huh? What should I have done when my Queen and first knight betrayed me? Should I have made you sleep in the stables and called it good? That would’ve done an amazing job at showing the entire Kingdom and all our enemies how much of a coward I am.” Jungkook laughs incredulously. “No, no, you do not get to make me the villain, Taehyung. I may have held the blade in my hand but you are the reason she died.”
Taehyung doesn’t respond to his statements, just shakes his head and asks him what he really wants to know.
“How are you even here, Jungkook? I had a sorceress put a spell on Y/N to reincarnate us. You were never supposed to be a part of it,” Taehyung explains.
“I don’t know, what did the spell say?”
“That the person she loves will meet her in the next life and return her memories.”
Jungkook stares him down with his eyebrows raised.
“I’m sorry, you’re confused why a spell like that would bring me, her husband, here, too? You can’t see why that would include me?” Jungkook scoffs and turns away. “Do you think I forced her to marry me? Forced her to be with me and bear my children? Who the fuck do you think I am?” He turns back towards Taehyung again with more fire in his eyes. “She loved me. We loved each other and your little affair did nothing to change that.”
“That’s not what I mean. There was a catch, Jungkook. We had to die together for the spell to work. One right after the other.” Jungkook goes quiet after he hears Taehyung’s words, his eyes tilting towards the floor as his jaw ticks. “Wait…”
“I hadn’t even cleaned your blood off my sword yet.”
Taehyung takes a step back, his eyes opening in shock. He shakes his head, pushing his hair from his eyes as he does so.
“You aren’t seriously saying —”
“I didn’t plan to do it,” Jungkook admits quietly. “But when I looked down at you two, I just…” He glances at your sleeping form, his eyes following the way your chest rises and falls. “I couldn’t live without her. Couldn’t live without either of you, truthfully.”
Silence is all Taehyung can respond with as the true answer of how the three of you are all together again breaks his resolve of confronting Jungkook. The two don’t speak again, they just take the seats at opposite ends of the room and wait for you to wake up.
When you do, it’s with a groan. Your hand comes to rest against your temple as you slowly sit up. Once you’re sitting on the edge of the bed, your eyes finally open and land on Jungkook across from you. They widen for a moment, but then soften as tears well up in them.
“Jungkook,” you cry, your arms opening for him.
He gets to you in a millisecond, pulling you into his chest and wrapping his arms around. You sob against him as your hands grip the edges of his uniform. He shushes you comfortingly, combing through your hair with his fingers and pressing his lips to the crown of your head.
“S’okay, baby, I’m right here,” he whispers to you.
You stay like that for a while, your cries filling the room and breaking both their hearts in the process.
“Do you know?” You ask without looking up. “Do you have your memories, too?”
“Yeah, my love, I do,” he answers you.
You look up at him with glassy eyes. It’s overwhelming now that your memories are back. He’s here in front of you as you know him, but just underneath the surface there is a shimmer of the King you once knew.
“And you still wanted to be with me after we met?” You ask through a hiccup. “Even knowing what I did?”
Jungkook grabs your face with both hands, pushing your hair out of the way so he can see you properly.
“Are you kidding?” He smiles at the memory of your reunion. “When I found you again it was the happiest day of my life.” A watery chuckle comes from your lips. “I don’t care about any of that, Y/N. I have loved you in all of my lifetimes and I will continue to do so in however many more the universe grants me.”
“I love you so much,” you tell him. “And I am so, so sorry.”
He shakes his head, his thumb moving across your cheekbone lovingly.
“It was a long time ago, my darling. All is forgiven.”
“It doesn’t feel that way, it feels like it was only yesterday.”
“That’s only because you just got your memories back,” he reassures you. “After a while, they’ll feel more like an old dream.”
You nod to acknowledge his words before crashing back into him, letting your arms snake around his neck as he pulls you into his lap. It only takes you another minute to fall asleep again in Jungkook’s arms, a side effect the nurse warned them about earlier.
Taehyung doesn’t stay much longer. Truthfully, he needs to gather his own thoughts, and he knows you’ll be in no condition to talk with him when you wake up.
You text him once the weekend passes and ask to meet by the lake behind the university. When he arrives, you’re already sitting on the wooden bench with your legs crossed and a notebook open in your lap. He doesn’t approach you right away, instead he just takes in the sight of you tucking a piece of hair behind your ear and bending over to write in your notebook.
“Hi,” Taehyung greets you as he rounds the bench.
“Hi,” you reply quietly and gesture for him to sit beside you.
“I didn’t see you around campus at all this weekend,” Taehyung notes.
You sigh and meet his eyes with a soft smile.
“Yeah, um, Jungkook and I decided to take the train to the museum they built out of our castle. We saw our family crypt, too, where we, our children, and grandchildren are buried,” you explain.
“Oh, wow,” Taehyung replies.
“There was this history book they were selling at the gift shop with our entire family tree in it. We sat where the library used to be and read it together. It talked about what happened to the children and had the names and titles of all your grandchildren,” you tell him. “It was really nice.”
“So, what happened with your children?”
“The royal advisor ruled in Junghyun’s stead since he was too young to be King when Jungkook died. The war ended after about five years, and then when Junghyun turned sixteen he was able to rule on his own. Sooyoung married a Prince in a neighboring Kingdom and ruled there as Queen, which is exactly what she always wanted. Minho and Wonshik married a Duchess and Viscountess and they actually became royal tutors. You know, like the ones you and Jungkook had growing up, who taught you sword fighting and horseback riding and all that?”
“Yeah, I remember.”
“I’m so happy knowing they all grew up well and started their own families. Jungkook and I have ten grandchildren.”
“Ten? Wow,” Taehyung laughs. You proudly nod your head and gaze out again at the water. “I’m glad you were able to learn all about them.”
“Yeah… I just wish I had been there to see it,” you whisper. “Wish we both had.” A moment later you snap your fingers when you remember something else. “Actually, we saw your grave, too. It’s in the knight’s crypt not far from our own.”
“Knight’s crypt? I shouldn’t have been buried there. I was stripped of my knighthood when we… well, you know,” he replies.
“I thought the same thing, but Jungkook told me he ordered you to be buried there anyway before the execution,” you respond.
Taehyung is completely dumbfounded by what you’re telling him. It doesn’t compute in his brain why Jungkook would allow him to be buried among the other knights. Before he can question you further, you turn towards him, crossing one leg under your knee so you can face him directly.
“Look, I never got to explain everything to you about what happened leading up to Jungkook and I getting married, and I would like to, if you’ll let me.”
Taehyung nods encouragingly for you to continue, gesturing with his hands that you have the floor to speak your mind. You thank him with a calm smile before sitting up straight so you can finally say what you need to after all this time.
“When you first told me you were leaving for the war, and said you loved me and wanted to marry me, I didn’t reply because, one, I was shocked, and two, because I didn’t feel the same way about you. Growing up, I only ever had feelings for Jungkook. My feelings for you were definitely strong, because you were my best friend, but they were platonic. I honestly put your proposal in the back of my mind because you were leaving, and I didn’t even know if you would survive the war or not. Then when Jungkook had to become King and you were no longer leaving, I didn’t know what that meant in regards to your proposal. You were about to become first knight and have a lot more responsibility, so I figured I would wait for you to talk to me about it and I would tell you my answer at that point.”
“But then Jungkook came to see me the next day and asked me to marry him, and that… that was my dream, Tae. I had loved him for almost my entire life. I wanted to speak to you before the wedding or even before arriving at the castle, but there was no time. I wanted to explain my feelings so you knew I wasn’t just ignoring your confession and doing whatever I wanted. But obviously, I never got the chance and you stopped speaking to me altogether.”
“Then, when the war broke out, and we grew close again, I did end up developing feelings for you. You were there for me when no one else was and it was easy to fall for you when we would spend day in and day out together. But, Taehyung, that was the first time I ever felt anything romantic for you. I know you think Jungkook stole me from you or forced me into becoming Queen, but that’s not the case. My heart has always belonged to Jungkook from the very beginning, and even when I did grow to love you, my feelings for him never waned.”
“All this to say, I am so grateful you had a spell cast on me so we all get a second chance at this, but the memories you returned to me are just that… memories. The life I’m currently living, the one where I was born to two pediatricians, went to ballet school, and became a cheerleader, that’s my life, not the one where I was a midwife and a Queen. Even if you and I had been these star-crossed lovers who never got the chance to be together, it doesn’t change the life I’ve lived so far. It doesn’t change that I fell in love with Jungkook. Not the Prince or King, but the computer science major who plays basketball and is competitive, funny, spontaneous, and kind. I love him for who he is today, memories or not.”
Taehyung takes several moments to absorb everything you’re telling him, and truthfully, he’s confused. His entire life he’s always believed you felt the same way for him, and when you told him you loved him in the gardens he thought you meant you always had.
“But, before you were executed, your last words… you told me you loved me, Y/N,” Taehyung argues.
Your eyes widen and a sympathetic frown appears on your face.
“Taehyung, my last words...” You sigh. “I wasn’t saying that to you. I was saying it to Jungkook.”
The truth forces a sob out of Taehyung as tears escape from his waterline. He goes to wipe them away, but your finger is already grazing his cheek and doing so yourself.
“This was supposed to be our second chance, Y/N. For you and me to finally be together,” he cries.
“It still can be. Romantic love is not the only kind there is. You are and forever will be my best friend, and this can be our second chance to have the friendship we were always supposed to have. For all three of us to be together the way we once were,” you propose.
“No, I could never forgive Jungkook for what he did,” he snaps.
“Forgive him?” You respond harshly. “Tae, we stabbed him in the fucking back. I vowed to love and cherish him and then I fucked his best friend and first knight. The one person he was supposed to trust more than anyone in the world. Then we forced a sword in his hand and made him kill the two people he loved the most. We knew when we started sleeping together what would happen if we got caught and we did it anyway. He didn’t kill us, we killed him.”
You exhale and tuck your hair behind your ear, chewing on your lip as you calm down and think of your next words.
“I love you, Taehyung. I will always love you, and I want you in my life. Jungkook wants you in his life,” you state. “But you have to be willing to move on from the past and accept what happened. Take accountability for the things we did and let it all go.”
Once you leave, Taehyung sits in silence as he stares out across the lake, sorrowful tears staining his skin. He knows you’re right about the past. It’s time to move on and start living the life he has now, but it isn’t easy when he’s spent so long just waiting for you to start your lives together.
The sun disappears from the sky before Taehyung comes to the realization he can still have that, just as you said, because being together doesn’t have to mean romantically. And truth be told, he needs his friends more than anything else.
He finds you and Jungkook at a picnic table outside the library about a week later.
Your arms are pushing at Jungkook’s shoulders to keep him from grabbing the candy bag between your legs. He’s sporting a mischievous toothy grin as he tries to maneuver around your hold to successfully steal your treat. You laugh loudly when Jungkook bites at the air in a feeble attempt to use his teeth as a method of thievery. It distracts you enough, though, and Jungkook uses the opportunity to snatch the bag from you before stealing a kiss, too.
“Nooo,” you whine as he laughs and eats your candy uninterrupted.
Taehyung clears his throat, and you both stop in your tracks, the candy bag falling from Jungkook’s hands onto the table with a soft plop.
“Hey,” Taehyung says through a chuckle. “I just wanted to say that I’m sorry for… well, there’s a lot, isn’t there?” He runs a hand through his hair. “I’m just sorry, and if you guys would be interested, maybe we can all hang out sometime.”
For the first time, he looks at Jungkook instead of you, and watches the way his expression morphs from surprise to delight. In an instant, Jungkook is standing and rounding the table to bring Taehyung into a crippling embrace. Taehyung chuckles awkwardly, hesitant to show any affection in return, but then Jungkook rests his chin on Taehyung’s shoulder, and the bittersweet nostalgia makes him wrap his arms around him.
“I missed you,” Jungkook confesses.
Taehyung sighs and tightens his grip.
“Missed you, too… your Highness.”
“Don’t even joke, man.”
You squeal behind them, your feet tapping against the ground while you do a miniature victory dance from your seat. They both turn to look at you with completely endeared twin smiles, and you smile right back, head tilting to the right as your nose scrunches up.
The smell of wildflowers wafts through the air, despite there being none around, as if the universe is congratulating the three of you on finally making it back home to each other.
Okay, well this is beautiful and a truly wonderful twist on this sort of trope.
Without spoiling the plot, both Jungkook and Taehyung are wonderfully written and it's nice to have a Y/N actually accept that they were in the wrong for once.
Truly, stunning writing and gorgeous world-building.
