#jeon

[hitboxesonstockimages]

[kooksure]

‘I’m Sure’ Series Masterlist

*Slow updates*

Summary: When Y/n, a young choreographer, began working with Halsey at just seventeen, she never imagined it would lead her across the globe. Her journey with BTS began in 2018 on the set of 'Boy With Luv,' where she acted as the creative bridge between two worlds. What started as temporary projects turned into a lifelong bond, eventually leading BigHit to offer her a full-time position working as the boys' lead choreographer.

Now, as the members begin their solo careers and prepare for military enlistment, the stakes have never been higher. Y/n is tasked with her most ambitious project yet: Creating the choreography and performance identity for Jungkook’s global solo debut. What begins as late nights perfecting choreography and playful banter turns into quiet moments that blur the line between professionalism and something much more personal.

Their journey unfolds alongside Jungkook and Jimin’s newest travel show, Are You Sure?!, where Y/n travels with the Busan Brothers through the heat of a New York summer, the coastal winds of Jeju, and the deep snows of Sapporo.

Between the raw, unfiltered footage of life on the road and the quiet vulnerability that lingers after the cameras finally stop rolling, the show becomes the backdrop for Y/n and Jungkook’s evolving story.

As the seasons shift, they are pulled closer through creative passion, industry jealousy, and the looming shadow of distance. Amidst the chaos of global stardom and the quiet fear of a long goodbye, they are forced to make a choice only they can answer: Are they truly sure about each other, no matter what the world might say?

Pairing: Idol!Jeon Jungkook × fem dance choreographer!reader

Supporting Dynamics: BTS members as friends, teammates, and comedic chaos on/off the show. HYBE staff and industry peers are shaping the work/life conflict

Genre: Idol Variety Show (meta / show-within-a-show), Slow-Burn Romance, Strangers-to-friends, Friends-to-Lovers, workplace / Idol Industry Drama, Slice of Life & Found Family, Angst with Comfort, Humor & Playful Chaos, he-falls-first-she-falls-harder

Warnings / Tags: 18+ ONLY!!! idol industry stress & career pressure, public vs. private relationship tension, jealousy & possessiveness, emotional vulnerability & intimacy, occasional alcohol use, eventual mature/sexual content (later chapters), Heavy focus on cameras vs. reality(later chapters)

DISCLAIMER: This story is a work of fiction— a mix of imagination, emotion, and creative storytelling. While this will follow a few real-life events from 2023 or reference names for realism, most details have been altered or reimagined to fit the narrative I’m building and to create that gap between real life and fiction.

All portrayals of real people (including Jungkook, Jimin, other BTS members, and others) are fictionalized and NOT meant to represent their real lives, personalities, or actions.

The only character that belongs entirely to me is my oc. I don’t own HYBE/BIGHIT, BTS, or any related figures— I just love their art and the inspiration they bring.

This story exists purely for creative and entertainment purposes and should not be interpreted as factual or representative of real events.

Prologue

One

Two

Three

Four

Five

Six

Seven

Eight

Nine

Ten

Eleven

Twelve

Thirteen

Fourteen

Fifteen

TBA….

Playlist: here | Moodboard

----

From Author ♡

Thank you so much for being here. This story is really close to my heart— it's my first ever fanfic that I've written, and I've always struggled with writing. I can create a 6-page essay for a college assignment, but to write about the romantic tension between two characters? Forget it.

However, I wanted to challenge myself to write about something that I truly enjoy the most. Bts and dance. I started listening to bts when I was around 12 years old (10 years ago omg) and I've always dreamed of becoming a dancer. I never got to live that dream (Yet, maybe lol), but my love for bts never subsided. I've always had a soft spot for Jungkook as he is my bias and found his work inspiring over the years. I know he challenges himself; therefore, I felt inspired to improve my writing skills by writing this story.

it’s built from late-night thoughts, too many playlists, and that quiet ache between art and reality. It’s about movement, memory, and the things we never say out loud.

I'm writing because I love the what-ifs— the space between truth and fiction where emotions get to show.

Thank you for reading with kindness and curiosity, and for letting this world live a little longer every time you read it. ♡

[cupidsbling]

Wanna be yours | J.JK

You haven't seen your best friend's younger brother in over four years. And when you do, you realise that he's not some kid anymore...

genre – Secret pining, best friend's brother, fluff.

pairing – Jungkook X female reader.

warnings – Explicit language and smut.

word count – 6k+

series m.list

You haven't seen your best friend Minji in over a year. The thought alone makes your stomach squeeze as you drive up the familiar path to the Jeon family home.

The same place you spent half your teenage years in, laughing on the balcony, sometimes stealing wine from Mr Jeon's stash with Minji and teasing Minji's younger brother Jungkook every chance you could get.

You can already picture Minji running out the front door with her hair flying around as she comes to engulf you in the tightest hug. You feel a great sense of relief knowing that no matter how much time you spend apart from Minji, things will never change. You two have always been inseparable and even now, nothing's changed. And sure enough, the door opens before you can knock.

"Y/N!!"

Her loud voice hits you before her arms fly around you. She's wrapping you in the warmest hug and tightest hug that smells like her perfume. It's sweet, expensive and so Minji. You laugh and squeeze back just as tightly.

"I missed you so much Min." you mumble into her shoulder.

"I missed you more." She grins and pulls away just enough to look at you. "You look so good! Living with that boyfriend of yours is really treating you well, huh?"

You laugh again, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. "Yeah, it's been... good... Busy, you know how it is."

Minji knows you better than anyone so she knows that tone in your voice too well but she doesn't comment on it. She links her arm through yours and tugs you inside.

The Jeon house smells the same. It sleeps of delicious food being cooked, soft wood polish and something faintly floral. It feels so nostalgic, walking back into the place that once felt like a second home.

Photos line the hallway. The first ones are of Minji. Her graduation, family trips and photos of her as a kid.

You come across a photo that makes your stomach twist. It's Jungkook in his university cap, smiling proudly. He looks so different since the last time you him. Of course, it's a good kind of diffent but you barely recognize him in this new photo... He looks so much olderm

"Four years ago was the last time you've seen him, right?" Minji asks, following your gaze with a little smile "Can you believe it? He's finally finished. My little bro."

"Wow," you murmur, still staring at the photo. "I still remember when he wouldn't stop complaining about his math homework.. Or anything for that matter."

Minji laughs "Oh trust me, he still complains. But he's different now. He's somewhat more mature. I mean he's even got all these tattoos and piercings now – Mom nearly fainted."

You blink. "Tattoos?"

"Oh yeah. Didn't I tell you? He got his first one on his arm after his first year. Now I think he's collecting them."

You smile, shaking your head. "That's... Wow. Jungkook with tattoos? I can't even picture it."

Minji grins mischievously. "You'll see. He's upstairs. He just got home this morning."

"He's here?" you ask curiously.

"Of course. You didn't think I'd let him miss my birthday, did you?"

Before you can answer, you hear heavy footsteps on the stairs. You turn and there he is. For a second you don't breathe.

Jungkook looks taller and he's much broader. His black t-shirt clings to his defined chest and arms. One of his arms is now entirely inked with patterns that dissappear beneath the fabric. A small silver hoop glints his lip and another by his eyebrow. His hair's longer and it falls into his eyes a little – Those same same big and dark eyes that would light up when you'd talk to him.

"Y/N - Noona?" His voice is a bit rougher now.

You blink, smiling a little too fast and forced "Jungkook?"

He grins genuinely and for a moment, he looks just like the boy you remember. The one who used to follow you and Minji around the house, trying to get you to watch movies with him.

"You've - you've really really grown up." you let out a breath and step closer.

Minji laughs and slings an arm over her brother's shoulders, even though she's much shorter than him. "Doesn't he look different? He's basically a man now. I feel so old."

Jungkook chuckles but his gaze quickly flickers to you and lingers. "I'm still the same though Noona." he says quietly.

"Still the same annoying kid?" You tease but your voice wavers just slightly and you hope no one notices.

Minji doesn't notice, she's already busy dragging you toward the kitchen. "Come on. Mom's gonna freak out when she sees you."

You follow her, trying to act normal but you can feel Jungkook's eyes on you aa you walk away.

The kitchen is filled with the familiar noise. Clinking dishes, Mrs Jeon's favourite old radio station and something bubbling on the stove. You follow Minji inside and the atmosphere wraps around you like a memory.

"Mom! Guess who finally showed up!"

Before you can even open your mouth, Mrs Jeon looks up and her eyes widen. Her face breaks into the kind of smile that makes you feel ten years younger.

"Y/N-ah!"

She wipes her hands on her apron and rushes over with open arms. You don't even have time to drop your bag before she pulls you into a tight hug.

"It's been too long, sweetheart." she says. "You disappeared on us!"

She pulls away to cup your face. " Still so beautiful. Minji told me you moved away but you should come back more often, hmm?"

"I promise I will. " you say.

Mr Jeon appears in the doorway, wiping his hands on a dish towel. His eyes brighten the second he sees you.

"Is that my second daughter I see?" he teases.

You laugh and bow playfully. " Mr Jeon, it's so good to see you."

He chuckles and gives you a hug of his own. "It's good to have you home, Y/N. This house feels louder already."

Minji grins, watching the reunion. "See? I told you they missed you more than they missed me."

Her father waves her off. "We missed you both. But Y/N always helps your mother in the kitchen, so–"

Mrs Jeon gasps in mock offense. "So I only love her for her cooking skills?"

"Obviously." he jokes, ducking just in time as she playfully hits him with a wooden spoon. You giggle as the easy banter fills the kitchen.

For a moment, everything feels as it used to. The laughter, the warmth and the smell of dinner that always seemed to mean comfort.

"Come sit," Mrs Jeon insists, guiding you to the table. "Tells me everything. How's work? Are you eating properly? You look too thin –"

"Mom." Minji groans. "Don't interrogate her the second she walks in!"

But you shake your head, smiling. "It's fine, I missed this." You glance around the kitchen, feeling your heart swell. "I really missed all of you."

From the corner of your eye, you catch Jungkook hovering by the doorway. Mrs Jeon notices too and waves him over.

"Yah Jungkookie, don't just stand there like a stranger! Sit with us."

He slides into the seat across from you and the faintest smile tugs at his lips when your eyes meet.

After a short while, everyone helps to set the dining table, once the food is prepared. The table looks exactly like it always has. Crowded with side dishes, steaming bowls of rice and the rest of Mrs Jeon's culinary masterpieces.

Jungkook goes back to his seat, directly across from you again. He rolls up the sleeves of his shirt while Minji pours the soju. Your try not to notice the veins in Jungkook's forearm or the faint glint of mental on his lip ring when he smiles politely at his father's jokes.

"So, Y/N-ah," Mrs Jeon starts, sitting beside her husband. "Minji told me you moved with your boyfriend. How's that going, hmm?"

You nearly choke on your rice but laugh it off. "Ah, yeah, it's-it's going well. We've been together for two years now."

Minji hums teasingly. "Her boyfriend's a businessman . Works long hours, though. Poor Y/N, barely gets to see him."

You roll your eyes playfully. "Don't make it around tragic." But even your playful tone is a little too tight and practiced.

Mrs Jeon tilts her head, watching you with the fond curiosity only mother's have. "Well, I hope he's treating you right. If he doesn't, you tell me, okay? I'll come straighten him out myself."

Everyone laughs, except Jungkook. He's silent across the table. His chopsticks still for a moment before he goes back to eating.

"And you Jungkook," Mrs Jeon turns her attention to him, smiling sweetly. "What about your girlfriend? The one from college? I saw your pictures with her. Such a pretty girl."

Everyone at the table quiets down and glances at Jungkook curiously. Jungkook's expression barely changes but there's something unreadable that flickers across his face before he looks down again.

"We broke up." he says simply.

Minji's fork pauses midair. "Wait, what? Since when?"

He shrugs without looking up. "A couple weeks ago."

Mrs Jeon's face falls. "Oh no, why? You two looked so happy."

"Things just... Didn't work out," he says, his eyes briefly flicker to you. It's so fast, you think you might've imagined it. "We wanted different things."

The silence between you is heavy for a while before Minji sighs dramatically, trying to lighten the air.

"Well, that's her loss. You're too good-looking for your own good anyway."

"Minji," Mr Jeon chuckles shaking his head. "Don't inflate his ego even more"

"I'm just saying! Look at him - he's turning into a whole heartthrob! Poor Y/N's probably shocked."

You freeze mid-laugh and your cheeks warm instantly. "Oh please," you say, waving it off. "He's still the same Jungkook to me."

But you don't miss the way Jungkook's eyes shoot up to you. "Not exactly the same, Noona... " he says softly.

Minji chuckles, not catching the undercurrent in this tone. "True, true. He's got it all now. Tattoos, muscles - can't believe this is the same kid who cried when I broke his video game."

Jungkook grins, finally looking away from you. "I was twelve."

His parents laugh and his mother pats his arm affectionately. There's something about the way he's carrying himself now. He has this quiet confidence that was never there before.

And when you catch him looking at you again, you realise that Minji's little brother isn't that small boy anymore

⋅ ⋅ ✩ ⋅ ⋅

After dinner, Mrs Jeon serves biscuits and coffee. Everyone lingers, still talking about everything and nothing. But every now and then, your eyes keep meeting Jungkook's. You blame it on coincidence but you know that you're kind of checking him out.

As strange as it feels to admit it, Jungkook has become really attractive. You've always found him cute but it's pretty much ended there since you're three years older than him and he is your best friend's younger brother...

The lights dim slightly as Mrs Jeon rushes out of the kitchen, beaming while holding a cake that's looks straight out of a patisserie. It's perfectly frosted and the candles flicker like tiny stars.

"Everybody ready?" she asks, her voice is bright with pride.

Minji squeals and claps her hands like a little girl. "Mom, it's perfect!"

You grin and stand up to grab your phone. "Hold on, let me record."

Everyone gathers around the birthday girl and you step back to get the perfect shot. That's when you feel the warmth of someone very close behind you. The faint scent of his clone fills the air and a low murmur rumbles near your ear.

"That cake looks so good." he says.

Your fingers tighten slightly around your phone. "Yeah it does, your mom's done a great job."

"Mmh." he hums.

You try to focus on the screen, on Mrs Jeon carefully setting the cake down or on Minji giggling with her hands clasped. But it's hard when you can literally feel his chest just inches from your back and his breath on your neck, everytime he laughs.

Everyone sings happy birthday to Minji. Her face glows in the candlelight and her eyes sparkle before she closes them to make her wish. You tilt your phone slightly, zooming in to capture her expression, the pure happiness that makes you love her all over again. She blows out the candles and cheers erupt. You lower your phone, grinning.

"Perfect." you say softly to yourself.

"You always had an eye for moments like this." Jungkook says.

You glance back and he's looking down at you, a half-smile tugs at lips. Something about the way he's looking at you makes your stomach flutter before you quickly look away.

"Here," Minji calls, snapping you out of it. "Come take a picture with me, Y/N!"

You hurry over and wrap an arm around your best friend as she holds up the cake, still giggling. "Happy birthday, idiot." You kiss her cheek.

"You're the best," she says, squeezing your waist. "... Wait - is that a Cartier bag?"

You grin, handing her the small, elegant box you'd been keeping in your bag. "Open it."

Everyone leans in as Minji gasps, pulling out the sleek, silver bracelet inside. "Y/N. This is- oh my god, this is so expensive!"

"You deserve it," you say simply. "You've been wanting that one for years."

Minji's eyes soften instantly. "I can't believe you remembered."

You smile. "Of course I did. You're my person."

Mrs. Jeon claps her hands, teary-eyed. "Look at my girls! You two have such a beautiful friendship."

Minji throws her arms around you again, almost knocking you off balance. "I love you so much, Y/N."

"Love you too, birthday girl."

And somewhere behind the laughter, over Minji's shoulder, your eyes flicker toward Jungkook for the hundredth time tonight.

He's watching you with a small, quiet smile on his lips as he takes a sip of his drink...

⋅ ⋅ ✩ ⋅ ⋅

The time reads 9pm on Minji's clock in her old bedroom. The air smells like vanilla body spray, hair products and perfume.

You're both standing infront of the vanity mirror touching up while Minji's Playlist plays in the background.

"I missed getting ready with you." Minji sighs, blending highlighter on her cheekbones.

You smile at your reflection. Your hair's done, lips glossed and your dress is fitting you perfectly.

"Same. Though I didn't miss your five outfit changes"

Minji laughs and tosses a heel at you. "Excuse me, I have to make sure your best friend looks like the main character tonight."

"You already do." you tease before zipping up her black silk dress.

She smirks, catching your gaze in the mirror. "Please. You're one to talk. Your boyfriend's gonna lose his mind when he sees your story later"

You roll your eyes and reach for the lip gloss. "He's working late tonight. Again."

There's a quiet for a beat. The kind that lingers between two old friends who can read each other. Minji opens her mouth to say something but stops and let's out a grin again.

"Well then, more of a reason to dance your ass off tonight."

You laugh, grateful that she let it go. "Fine but if I end up barefoot on the dance floor again, you're carrying me home."

"Deal."

The two of you continue getting ready whilst singing songs from her Playlist. I wanna be yours by Arctic monkeys starts playing.

"I wanna be your vacuum cleaner." Minji mumbles wiggling her eyebrows. "Despite the weird lyrics in this song, it's so sexy..."

You hum. "It feels like... Longing. Like someone desperately wanting someone they know they can't have."

Minji glances at you in the mirror for seconds too long. She doesn't say anything, she just smiles. A secret kind of knowing smile.

⋅ ⋅ ✩ ⋅ ⋅

Downstairs, Jungkook's sitting on the couch. He's dressed in all black jeans, an open button-down and a white tee underneath. It's simple clothing but for some reason, he looks super hot.

One hand rests lazily on his knee as he scrolls through his phone. He's supposed to look relaxed but his leg keeps bouncing.

He hears your laughter before he sees you and then you appear at he top of the staircase. For a second, he forgets how to breathe. Your heels click softly against the wooden steps and your dress shimmers under the low light.

His eyes travel from your legs to the small pendant resting just slightly above your cleavage. You tuck a strand of hair behind your ear as you talk with Minji. Completely unaware of the effect you're having on him.

His mother pokes her head out from the kitchen. "You girls look beautiful! Jungkookie, be careful driving them, hmm?"

He stands quickly and rubs the back of his neck. "Yeah of course mom."

Minji catches his expression. His lips are parted and his eyes haven't left you once. She almost laughs. So that's how bad it's gotten, she thinks to herself.

"Ready ladies?" Jungkook asks, his voice is lower than usual.

"You sound like a chauffeur." Minji teases before grabbing her purse. "Come on. Let's go before I cry about being twenty-seven."

⋅ ⋅ ✩ ⋅ ⋅

The city lights blur pass as Jungkook drives. One of his hands is on the wheel and the other rests near the gear shift. Another simple thing he makes look unnecessarily attractive. Minji is in the passenger seat, singing along to the music. You're in the back with the window down, the wind plays with your hair.

From the rearview mirror, Jungkook can see you and he subtly glances at you every chance he gets. He shouldn't be looking but he can't help it.

Minji glances sideways, catching him in the act. "You good, Kookie?"

He clears his throat. "Yeah. Just uh thinking. Maybe I need a drink. "

"You've been thinking since we left the house. And you better not get drunk, you're driving us back."

He chuckles and his eyes flicker back to you again, for a second. "I know."

"Don't worry, some of my other friends will be there too. Namjoon, Taehyung..." Minji informs.

"Good to know ." Jungkook says, not really sounding interested in them.

You smile faintly from the backseat. "You sure you don't mind coming with us, Jungkook?"

His eyes immediately meet yours again. "Wouldn't miss it." he says softly.

⋅ ⋅ ✩ ⋅ ⋅

The bass vibrates through the club when the three of you step in. Coloured lights flash as Minji leads the way through the crowd with her arm looped through yours.

You can already see your table in the VIP section, tucked slightly to the side where Minji's friends are gathered around bottles and half-empty glasses.

"There they are!" Minji cheers, waving at them.

Jungkook follows a few steps behind you. He's quiet with his hands in his pocket as he scans the room.

Namjoon is the first to stand. He's tall and broad with a cute smile that could make anyone feel relaxed.

"Minji! Finally! And you must be Y/N right?"

You nod and smile as he leans in for a polite hug. " That's me. You're Namjoon, yeah? I've heard a lot about you."

"All good things, I hope."

"Mostly" you tease, making him laugh.

Then Taehyung comes with his drink in his hand and his eyes lingering on you for too long.

"Wow." he says. "Minji, you never mentioned your friend was this gorgeous."

"Tae, don't start already." Minji groans.

But Taehyung is still grinning at you. "What? I'm just being honest."

You laugh and shake your head. "You're forward, aren't you?"

"Only if you let me be." His tone is playful but you can tell that he's half-serious.

You take your seat and Jungkook slips into the booth across you. He doesn't join in on the laughter, he just watches quietly and sips his drink. His gaze flicks from Taehyung to you and back again.

Soon Minji's voice breaks through the noise. "Shots!"

The waiter brings a tray and everyone cheers. You take one and clink glasses with everyone.

"To the birthday girl."

"To the birthday girl!" everyone echoes.

You take the shot and the alcohol burns down your throat. Taehyung leans again, much closer this time. His breath brushes your ear when he says something about Minji that makes her roll her eyes.

You laugh it off and before you can respond, Jungkook moves to sit next to you. His arm rests along the back of the booth, behind you. You turn your head to look at him and he's already looking at you.

Your heart trips over itself and you immediately look away. You have a boyfriend. You should not be feeling like this for someone else. Especially not your best friend's younger brother.

"You okay, Noona?" he speaks close to your ear so that you hear him over the loud music.

"Y-yeah. The music's just really loud."

He smiles at you. "You'll get used to it."

"Mm, guess I'm getting old."

"No," he says quietly. "You're perfect."

You don't know if you heard him right over the bass or if you're imagining it. Either way, your eyes look away from his because your heart's doing that thing again.

After a while your bladder feels a bit full so you make your way to the bathroom. You get inside and girls are fixing their lip gloss, laughing infront of the mirrors and snapping photos.

You slip into one of the stalls, the door clicks behind you. The bass from outside is still pounding through the walls but it's duller in here. You finish quickly, wash your hands then pause infront of the mirror.

Your reflection looks good, just a little flushed from the drinks. You tuck a strand of hair behind and hair and smooth your dress anyway then pull out your phone.

There's one message from your boyfriend Jake :

Working late again, Have fun with your friend.

It's from hours ago. You stare at the message, your thumb hovers the screen. No missed calls, no check ins, not even a heart emoji.

You lock your phone. Your throat starts to feel tight and your heart hurts. It's not the type of heartache that hits all at once. It's more like the kind that been quietly nestling under your ribs for weeks.

You already know he's lying. You've known since you saw those messages on his phone. The way he flirted with his co-worker, the "late nights" or the "team dinners". You'd scrolled through them until tears streamed down your cheeks.

You promised yourself that you'd walk away. But it's never that easy, is it? Not when you've been together for such a long time, not when you two share an apartment together, not when you know each other's families so well.

You take a slow breath, blink a few times and force yourself to smile. You can cry later, not tonight.

You're pushing the door open to step out the bathroom when you nearly jump. Jungkook's leaning against the opposite wall with his head low and phone in his hand. The glow from his screen lights his sharp jaw before he looks up.

"Oh," you breathe out. "You uh, you scared me."

He pockets his phone immediately. "Sorry, I just-" he pauses, searching for the right words. "I just wanted to make sure you got back okay."

You look up at him surprised. "I was gone for like three minutes."

"Still. This place is crowded. I've seen a few weird guys lurking around the hallway."

The protectiveness in his voice makes your chest tighten. You nod and force out a smile. "Thanks Jungkook. But I promise I'm fine."

He watches you for a few seconds. His eyes flicker down then back up. "You sure?"

You nod but it's a but slower this time. Jungkook doesn't look convinced.

"Come on Noona," he steps aside so you can walk in front of him. "Let's get you back"

You get back to the table and Minji's already standing on the couch, dancing with a shot glass in one hand and the other arm around one of her friends.

"Y/N, there you are!" she shouts, she's already tipsy. "We thought you ditched us for the bartender or something!"

You laugh and shake your head at her but Jungkook notices the way it doesn't reach your eyes.

"Come on," She hands you a glass of something strong. "It's my birthday, let's get wasted!"

You don't argue, you take a glass, clink it with hers and down it in one go. Then another and another...

After a while, you've lost count of how much you drank. You scroll through your phone between refills, hoping for a message that doesn't come.

Jungkook sees all of it. The way your smile sometimes fades between laughs or how you dissociate from some conversations. He leans back in seat with a tight jaw. Even though some of the other guys are talking to him, his focus is solely on you. It always is.

"Noona," he says after a while, low enough so only you hear him.

You glance up at him with droopy eyes. "Hmm?"

He nods at the glass halfway to your lips. "You should slow down."

"Relax Jungkookie. I'm celebrating my best friend's birthday."

"Yeah," he says quietly. "But you're drinking like you're trying to forget something."

That makes you still. His gaze doesn't waver as he studies you. You shake your head and set your glass down.

"You worry too much." You gulp down the rest of your drink defiantly.

Jungkook's tongue presses against the inside of his cheek as he looks down at you.

"Noona." He warns, leaning closer to you.

You ignore him and go around the table to reach for another drink. Jungkook follows you around the table and before you reach for the drink, he grabs your wrist and pulls towards him with a firm force.

You gasp and almost trip on your own feet since you're already quite intoxicated but he steadies you with a strong hand on your hip. He tugs you closer to him, so close that your chest is flush with his.

"Jungkook-" you start with a small tremble in your voice. He's so close to you that you smell the whiskey in his breath.

"Why are you so stubborn, hmm?"

His comes out smooth and just a little rough, it makes your knees even weaker. You're staring at each other and you can't help the way your eyes fall to his lips. He looks so kissable.

You glance back up at his eyes and notice that he's looking at your lips as well. You don't why you feel the urge to tilt your head upwards, but you do. He glances at your eyes quickly before looking back down at your lips and tilts his head toward you. You think he's going to kiss you when -

"Y/N!" Minji voice calls out.

You flinch, Jungkook lets go of your wrist and takes a step back as his sister drunkenly walks towards you.

"What are you two talking about? Doesn't matter. Mind if I steal her Kookie?"

None of you notice the way Jungkook looks at Minji. He looks pissed. But he steps back anyways and let's her drag you to the dance floor.

He watches as his sister loops her arm around yours and walks with you. He respects you more than anything but he can't help the way his eyes drop down to your the curve of your ass. He bites his lip, admiring your figure in that tight, little dress.

If you were his girl, he'd never let you leave the house looking that if he wasn't with you. He's heard about your prick of a boyfriend. And Jungkook hates him. Yes, he's been jealous of that guy but that's not the only reason why Jungkook hates his guts.

Minji's always known about Jungkook's love for you, so naturally you had become a common conversation topic for them. Nothing serious though, Minji had just told him about the important parts since you and Jungkook barely spoke. And she's mentioned your boyfriend and how you usually complain about him.

That messed with Jungkook's head because you weren't supposed to be with that guy. Not with some jerk who couldn't even treat you properly. Sure, he didn't know the details, but he didn't need to. You deserve someone who will treat you like a queen, someone who will worship you and someone who will kiss the ground you walk on. And Jungkook knows that someone is him.

It's insane but he's been obsessed with you since he was about thirteen years old. He remembers the first time he saw you, it was life changing for him. That was the day, you had become the love of his life.

It was a weekend and Minji had invited her friends over for a sleepover. He didn't really care, he'd planned on just staying in his room until all of you left. He obviously hadn't expected you to just walk into his messy room, but when you did, Jungkook swore he saw everything in slow motion. You were undoubtedly the most beautiful girl he had ever laid eyes on, he was practically in a daze watching you.

"Hi," you said with the most friendly smile. "You must be Minji's little brother. I'm Y/N."

He just stared up at you since you were a little taller than him at that time. He must have looked like a complete idiot, with his mouth agape and hearts in his eyes.

"Um... What's your name?" you had asked when he said nothing.

"J-jungkook... I'm Jungkook." He embarrassingly stammered, still keeping his eyes locked on you.

Are you even real? He thought. How could someone look so perfect? He had suddenly become aware of how messy his room was, his dirty socks bundled up in the corner and dirty dishes decorating his desk. If only he had known that an angel would walk into his room, maybe he would've atleast showered.

"Nice to meet you Jungkook. Uh I got a bit lost. I'm looking for the bathroom ...Do you mind telling me where it is?"

He had nervously directed you to the bathroom on the same floor, although he almost tripped. You laughed, thanked him and told him that he was cute.

After that day, he started to see you more often. You were Minji's best friend and you two were always together. He couldn't be more thankful for that since you were always around.

Everytime you'd come over, he'd make sure he's showered and smells great, just incase you decided to smell him for some reason. He'd stick around you and Minji so you'd notice him. At times he asked you to watch movies with him and to his surprise you always agreed.

When he joined his school's football team, you always took him to his games and supported him when Minji couldn't. You weren't just beautiful, you were sweet and kind. That's what had made him fall even more in love with you.

He had almost confessed his undying love for you so many times but he was always nervous and he knew that you saw him as nothing more than your best friend's little brother, and he hated that.

If only you knew how much he wanted to be yours, even at that young age...

And now he's watching you and Minji on the dance floor, under the colourful lights. Your hips sway against Minji's as the two of you dance, letting the music take over. You're probably not even trying to look sexy, but you do. You always do.

After four years of not seeing you, he still can't believe you've managed to look even more beautiful.

He was stupid to think that he could go to college somewhere else, with a different environment and it would help him get over you. It didn't, even when he'd dated other women, he still yearned for you. The one person he could never have.

Your hair falls over your shoulders as you carrying on swaying to the music. His breath hitches but he doesn't break eye contact when your eyes find his. You hold each other's gaze and he sees something flicker in your eyes. You look away and carry on dancing provocatively against Minji. Are you doing that on purpose? He takes a big sip of his vodka and puts the glass on the table with an unnecessary force.

"Fuck it." he whispers to himself.

He gets up and makes his way to you and Minji. You don't see him at first, you're to lost in the rhythm of the music. He whispers something in Minji's ear, she seems surprised, she taps your shoulder and tells you that she's leaving. You're startled when you see Jungkook towering over you.

"Noona..." He lets out his hand for you to take.

You're confused but you place your hand in his. Your breath hitches when he caresses the back of your hand with his thumb.

"Wanna dance with me?" he asks.

He licks his bottom lip and your eyes follow the movement of his tongue. Maybe it's because you're under the under the influence or because you're ovulating and haven't had good sex in a month. But right now, you can't deny the fact that Jungkook looks hot.

You'll never be intimate with him though, that's crossing too many boundaries. He's still your best friend's younger brother, even if you haven't seen him in four years, he's still off limits.

You're not oblivious to the fact that he's liked you, it was extremely obvious. But that was years ago. He's moved on since, you know that since you've seen his social media and posts with the women he'd dated.

Although you're confused with his behavior tonight. The way he's been shadowing over you and watching you makes you think to yourself. Maybe what's going through your head is going through his... Maybe you just find each other attractive now...

He pulls you closer to him and you gasp. Your hands find his shoulders to steady yourself. One of his hands goes down to hold you waist.

"You look beautiful Noona." he leans down to whisper in your ear and he sways with you to the music.

Your pulse spikes when his hands go down to guide your hips in sync with his. Even though the crowd is close by, all you can now seem to focus on is Jungkook. His warmth, his scent and the way his eyes are burning into yours.

"Jungkook..." You start without even knowing what to say. Because what do you even say to him? You know you should stop this but you don't want to. Maybe you're just curious to see what happens next.

You let out a shocked gasp when he spins you so that your back is flush agaisnt his chest. His hands stay low on your hips, grazing your sides as he keeps moving with you.

"You're good at this Noona." His breathe tickles you neck, you instinctively press your back into him, your body matching with his rhythm.

You tell yourself that it's the music, the alcohol in your system and maybe even the thoughts of your cheating boyfriend. But when Jungkook's hands tighten just slightly to pull you closer, you know that you're just making up excuses. In all honesty, you want him.

You tilt your head to look at him and he's already watching you, as he has been the entire night. The flashing lights make his eyes look darker and there's no mistaking the heat in them.

Your heart hammers, you're the older one here, you should push him away and put an end to this madness. But instead you feel the world shrink down to just the two of you swaying in perfect sync.

The song changes to a slower one, now's the time you should step back but of course, you don't. Instead you do the most ridiculous thing, you drop lower and roll your hips against him.

You don't know notice but Jungkook's lungs literally empty in one sharp breath. You're basically twerking agaisnt his dick. You – Y/N –The girl he's spent a decade craving. Heat shoots through him so fast, it makes his head spin.

He grips your hips tighter, not even realizing how hard until his fingers are digging into the fabric of your dress. His jaw clenches, he's trying to focus on the music or on anything other than the way you're grinding against him like it's the most natural thing in the world.

He thinks that you probably don't mean it the way he's thinking. You're just having fun. He tells himself to play it cool and not to let you notice. But his body betrays him, his heartbeat spikes and blood rushes south.... He's getting hard, right here while he's literally flushed against you.

Panic surges through him. He doesn't want you to think ill of him. He respects and loves you so much, he doesn't want you to think he's getting hormonal this easily. But he can't help himself, he wants you. He wants you so much.

You're still flush against him but you straighten up a little so your back is pressed against his chest. You tilt your head back so it's leaning against his shoulder. One of your hands goes behind his neck to tangle in his soft locks of hair and pull his face closer to your now exposed neck.

"Jungkookie." You giggle but it's whiny.

He feels his dick twitch in his pants, hearing you like that. To make matters worse for him, you smell like vanilla and everything he desires.

"Yes Noona?" he asks, his voice lowers deliberately and he sees the way you bite your lip.

You don't say anything, you just carry on torturing him with the sway of your hips against him. He doesn't know what comes over him – Maybe it's the few drops of alcohol in his system or the obsessive chokehold you have on him, but he leans down closer to your neck and leaves a wet kiss there.

He waits for your reaction and you just let out a pleasant sigh and tug on his hair as if urging him to do it again. And he does, he groans against your neck and kisses and licks on your skin.

His tattooed hand goes down to your thigh to give it a squeeze under your dress and you involuntarily let out the sweetest moan. Your hand finds his on your thigh, your fingers wrap around his wrist – Not to stop his movements, but top hold him and press his hand harder against your skin.

Your body keeps rubbing slowly against him and you can feel him rock hard against you. His tilts his head back and bites harshly on his bottom lip, it's all he can do to keep himself from losing it right there. He can't believe he got into this position with you.

"Y/N.." His teeth graze your skin then they sink in, just enough to leave marks on you. You tilt your head to give him more access.

When you grind against him again, he instinctively pushes forward. Your skin is so soft against his lips and the small whimper you make, makes him feel hotter.

You stop and pause for a moment. His heart stutters and panic flickers in his chest. Is this it? Are you going to pull away? Are you going to pull away before he's ready to let go? But then you turn in his arms until you're facing him. The sight of you nearly undoes him.

His gaze drops to your mouth then flicks back up to your eyes. He thinks you might reprimand him and stop this, but you don't. You slide your arms around his neck and tug him closer. You start moving to the music again, your body is pressed even closer to him.

Your eyes are locked onto his, the air between you is electric. He can't look away from you, he doesn't want to. Because the way you're looking at him is as if you want him as badly as he needs you. It makes his knees weak.

"Noona..." He's shocked at how his voice comes out as a whimper.

His hands slide lower, fingers playing over your hips, brushing the tops of your thighs where you dress rides up just enough to tease him.

He's holding back though, he wants you to set the pace of whatever this is. You tilt your head and a knowing smile forms on your face.

"Whats wrong Jungkook? " you whisper, your voice a sultry tease. "Too much for you?"

Your fingers tighten in his hair, pulling just enough to make his scalp prickle. He groans softly and his eyes flutter shut for a second. He fights the urge to give in, to pin you to the nearest wall and kiss you until neither of you can breathe.

"Too much?" he growls, but he knows you're right...You are too much for him.

There's something bold in your eyes that makes his cock throb painfully in his pants. His breath catches and before he can stop himself, he leans in. His lips brush against yours, he's not kissing you yet but he's so close that he can taste your sweet and warm breathing that's mingling with his.

You close the distance, kissing him slow and deep. Your lips are soft against his but very demanding. The kiss is hungry and he groans into it. One of his hands tangle in your hair and the other steadies on your back to pull you harder onto him. Your fingers dig into his shoulders, nails biting just enough to make him hiss. He pulls back to catch his breath, his forehead is pressed against yours.

"Noona." His voice is rough and desperate. "Tell me what you want, because I'm about two seconds away from losing my fucking mind."

His hands are literally shaking, despite the firm grip he has on you. You have a challenging look on your face and he swears he can feel himself leaking through his boxers.

Your lips part and for a moment, you don't say anything. You carress his nape and lean in, your lips brush his ear in a whisper that sends a shiver down his spine.

"I want you to stop holding back." you say and that's all the permission he needs...

── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──

A/N - I know this part is a bit boring, lol. I just wanted to emphasise how close Y/N is with the Jeons and briefly describe Jungkook's love for her. However, the next parts are going to be super spicyyy <3

[someonegoood]

THE CORPORATE EQUATION SERIES ✫ jeon jungkook

[f] & [a] warnings are stated in each chapter itself !!

status; finished! ✫ playlist

my main masterlist! ❀ send me a dm to be in the taglist!

in which you’ve always been the bright, optimistic Head of HR trying to make the workplace a better place, and Jungkook, the grumpy new CEO, makes it painfully clear he has no time for your idealistic notions—until a company crisis forces you both to confront the undeniable tension between you.

tags corporate!au, ceo!jk, headofhr!reader, grumpy x sunshine, slow burn, accidental vulnerability, mutual pining, emotionally unavailable jk, bickering turned bonding :)

❀ chapter one: the new ceo

after Jeon resigned as CEO, meeting his son —the new CEO— was not a good experience. Despite the tension, you notice hints of vulnerability beneath his moody exterior.

drabble #1: paper trails

drabble #2: a taste of normal

❀ chapter two: crossing boundaries

a miscommunication in HR leads to a near-PR disaster when an important client’s demands clash with employee well-being. Jungkook’s rigid solutions exacerbate the problem, and you are forced to step in.

❀ chapter three: a corporate crisis

an unexpected system crash puts sensitive employee and client data at risk. The crisis demands immediate action, forcing Jungkook and you to work together overnight.

drabble #3: good... morning?

❀ chapter four: under pressure

in the aftermath of the crisis, Jungkook becomes more receptive to your ideas, but his growing feelings leave him frustrated and defensive.

drabble #4: dinner words

drabble #5: a quiet gesture

❀ chapter five: the corporate ball

as the office buzzes with gossip about the growing tension between you and Mr. Jeon, jealousy makes its way into the workplace when Minseok starts showing more interest in you.

drabble #6: parents

❀ sweet epilogue: the retreat

the company heads out for a corporate retreat, where tensions run high and personal boundaries blur. During a casual evening event, the HR team inadvertently discovers the secret relationship between you and Jungkook, leading to curious glances, playful teasing, and a lot of unexpected questions.

no translations, modification, and copying allowed.

[inkedwithcharm]

A Billion Lies Between Us | Chapter Eleven

Pairing: Jeon Jungkook × Reader (Y/N)

Genre: Arranged Marriage · Enemies to Lovers · Slow Burn · Romance · Pregnancy AU

Sypnosis:

You weren’t rich. You weren’t famous. You were just a girl from Seoul who dreamed of something more, of silk dresses, designer shoes, and a life that didn’t feel so small.

Then one lie changed everything.

When a wealthy woman who often visited your boutique offered to introduce you to her son, you never imagined she’d rewrite your life entirely. One moment, you were just a boutique assistant; the next, you were pretending to be a fashion executive from New York, and engaged to Korea’s most elusive billionaire, Jeon Jungkook.

He didn’t believe in love. You didn’t believe you’d ever deserve his world. You were just another name on his mother’s list, a pawn in a game you didn’t understand.

You swore you’d keep pretending. You swore you’d never fall.

But how do you protect your heart when the lie becomes the only truth you want to live in?

And when he finally learns who you really are… will love still be enough?

Chapter Eleven

The house feels too quiet when you step inside. The lights are dim, the air still warm from the dinner your family shared hours ago, but everything inside you is trembling.

Inside the bathroom, the light feels too bright. Your hands shake so badly you have to steady yourself on the sink. Your reflection in the mirror looks pale, exhausted, and weighed down by too many truths revealed all at once.

You follow the instructions with trembling fingers. Every second stretches unbearably, and the silence outside the door grows heavier, as if Jungkook is holding his breath with you.

When it’s done, you place the test on the counter and step back, pressing your palms against your thighs to stop them from shaking. The waiting feels endless, and yet too fast.

“Y/N?” Jungkook calls softly from outside, his voice tight. “Are you okay?”

You swallow. “I don’t know.”

A quiet pause.

“Me either,” he admits.

Your chest twists at the honesty in his words.

Finally, the test is ready.

You force yourself to look.

And the world stops.

Negative.

False alarm.

No baby.

Your breath slips out in a sound you can’t even label—part relief, part disappointment, part grief you didn’t expect to feel. You close your eyes, gripping the edge of the counter until your knuckles ache.

You open the door a moment later, the test still in your hand but your voice barely steady.

“It’s negative,” you whisper.

Jungkook’s eyes search yours, carefully at first, then more deeply when he sees the tears gathering. His face softens with a mix of relief and sadness, something he hides too quickly.

He nods once, slow.

“Okay,” he murmurs. “Alright.”

And then he does something you didn’t expect—

he steps forward and gently pulls you into his arms.

Carefully, almost cautiously, as though he’s afraid he might break something in you that’s already hurting.

Your face presses against his chest, and for a moment, you let yourself lean into him, feel the warmth of him, breathe in the familiar scent you’ve missed more than you’ll ever admit out loud. His hand hovers at your back before settling there, hesitant but present.

“You’re okay,” he whispers. “It’s okay. You’re not alone.”

The words undo you.

A single tear slips down your cheek. “I don’t know if I’m relieved,” you say quietly. “Or if I’m… something else.”

He exhales, his voice low. “You’re overwhelmed.”

“Yes.”

You stay like that for a few more seconds, long enough for your heart to ache, long enough for memory and longing to twist painfully inside your chest.

Then you pull away first.

He lets you, even though you feel him hesitate.

Neither of you know what to say next.

You stand by the table. He stands near the door.

The space between you brims with everything unresolved.

After a long, fragile silence, Jungkook clears his throat. “I should go. It’s late.”

The words crack through you like something sharp. You nod, keeping your voice steady even though everything inside you tightens.

“Okay.”

You pretend it doesn’t hurt.

You pretend it’s just a normal goodbye.

You pretend watching him leave doesn’t feel like losing him all over again.

He walks to the door, hesitates, glances back as if wanting to say something, then continues outside.

You follow him to the gate, your steps slow and reluctant. His car waits at the curb, headlights off, the night around you calm and painfully quiet.

He opens the car door.

And then he pauses.

He doesn’t look at you right away, he stares at the ground, then at his keys, then finally at you, voice uncertain in a way you’ve never heard from him.

“When… are you coming home?”

The words don’t just reach you.

They land, heavy and warm and devastating, right in the center of your chest.

Home.

He said home.

A sudden, unbearable tightness coils in your chest, and you have to look away, fighting the sting in your eyes. Your gaze drops to the pavement, each crack and shadow blurred as tears threaten to spill. You swallow hard, but the motion does nothing to still the tremor rising at the back of your throat.

Because he doesn’t mean a place.

He means you and him.

He means the life waiting between your toothbrushes in the bathroom, the coffee mugs lined side by side, the blankets that still smell like you.

He means us.

And hearing him say it, hearing the word home fall from his lips like he never stopped believing you’d return, makes your chest ache with a longing so sharp you almost sway.

You lift your eyes to him slowly.

Jungkook is standing there, hands tucked in the pockets of his hoodie as if he’s afraid to reach for you. His hair is messy from the long drive, falling over his forehead. His eyes hold a tired softness you haven’t seen in weeks, a look that feels like open doors and porch lights left on.

A look that feels like he never moved away from the idea of you coming back.

When he realizes you’re staring, he shifts slightly, as if he’s unsure if he’s allowed to step closer. His voice drops, quiet, scared but hopeful.

“I didn’t mean to… pressure you,” he says, eyes searching yours carefully.

"I just…” He exhales, steadying himself. It takes him a second to gather the courage to keep going. “I just need to know if you’re… still thinking about coming back, because every day feels like I’m walking around with half my world missing."

Your chest twists painfully.

He’s not asking a simple question.

He’s asking if the home you built together is still alive in your heart.

He’s asking if he’s still your safe place.

He’s asking if the love between you is bruised or broken.

The truth rises inside you like a tide you can’t fight.

You take a breath, but your voice fails you. The tears you’ve been holding back finally gather, blurring him at the edges.

Your chest aches.

He still wanted you there.

Even after everything.

“I just need a little more time,” you whisper. “I just… I need to breathe. And think.”

Jungkook nods again, too quickly this time.

“Yeah. Sure. I get it. Take all the time you need.”

But his voice strains at the edges, and the way he grips the car door gives away the truth—

he didn’t want to leave you here.

He didn’t want to drive away alone.

He didn’t want the distance to grow again.

“Okay,” he repeats, softer. “Just… let me know when you’re coming back.”

You manage a small nod. “I will.”

He steps into the car and pulls the door shut with a muted thud, the sound echoing lightly in the dim evening air. His hands find the steering wheel out of habit, fingers curling around the leather, but he doesn’t move.

The engine hums to life—a low, steady sound—but Jungkook just sits there, staring through the windshield as if the world outside has suddenly become too heavy to face.

You stepped inside the house the moment Jungkook climbed into his car, fingers trembling as you pulled the door closed behind you. You didn’t dare look back, not even once. You knew that if you caught even a glimpse of him sitting there, hands on the steering wheel, shoulders slumped in that quiet way he gets when he’s trying not to fall apart… you would break.

If you let yourself see him, you might run straight to his car, open the passenger door, and climb back into the life you’ve been aching for every night since you left.

You might tell him you’re ready, even if you’re still not sure you are.

The night pressed softly against the windows, the world outside muted and dark, but inside the car everything felt too loud. His heartbeat. His breathing. The echoes of your voice trembling when you told him you needed more time. He had expected something else, he did not even know specifically what, but a part of him, the part that still clung to hope despite everything, thought maybe you would choose to go home with him. Maybe you would take that one small step toward fixing things. Instead, you stood in the porch light with tired eyes and told him you weren’t ready. And Jungkook could not force you. He would never again push you somewhere you did not want to go.

He leaned back in the driver’s seat, letting his head fall against the headrest as a heavy exhale left his lungs. The silence in the car felt like a mirror, showing him everything he didn’t want to admit yet couldn’t avoid. He remembered the moment the test showed negative, the way your shoulders fell, the way your expression flickered between relief and disappointment. You had tried to hide it, but he knew. He saw it all. He felt the same confusion twisting inside him: the fear of not being ready, mixed with the strange sadness that came with imagining a future that suddenly vanished. And worse than that sadness was the quiet pain in your face, because you were scared, not of motherhood, but of raising a child in a marriage built on uncertainty and hurt. That pain stayed with him now, sharper than any betrayal he thought he endured.

Jungkook closed his eyes, squeezing the steering wheel until the leather pressed lines into his palms. He replayed every moment of tonight. You had been avoiding him out of guilt, not because you didn’t care. He saw that now. The lies, the contract, the hidden identity, none of that stung as much as the thought of losing you completely. Losing you was the one pain he knew he would never recover from. He didn’t care about the contract anymore. Not after everything you confessed. Not after seeing the fear in your face when you thought he might walk away for good.

He opened his eyes again and looked toward your house. The porch light was still on, soft and golden, painting the front steps in a familiar warmth. That small glow reminded him of quieter nights with you—late dinners, laughter over nothing, the way you tucked your feet under his thigh on the couch when you thought he wasn’t looking. Those moments replayed themselves in his mind with a clarity that left his chest aching. He thought of what his future could be: not a contract marriage, not a fabricated life built under his mother’s expectations—but mornings waking up beside you, a house filled with quiet domestic moments that were real and chosen. A family built not on obligation but on love. The image settled deep in him, stronger than the memory of any hurt.

Jungkook kept staring at your house as though waiting for the silhouette of you to appear at the door and call him back. He imagined you coming outside, taking a few hesitant steps down the walkway, telling him you changed your mind. That you were coming home. That you wanted to try again. But the door stayed closed, and he reminded himself gently, not bitterly, that healing does not happen overnight. That you were not running away from him anymore; you were gathering courage to face what broke between you.

He rested his forehead against the steering wheel, whispering into the dark, “Just come home. Whenever you’re ready. Just come home.” It wasn’t a demand. It wasn’t pressure. It was a wish, a quiet plea of someone who had finally realized what mattered to him more than anything else. He wanted more time with you. He wanted a future with you. He wanted to rebuild whatever he had almost thrown away in anger. The thought of never hearing your laugh again, never feeling your presence in the house again, never having the chance to fix what could still be saved, hurt far worse.

When he finally drove away, heading back toward Seoul, he kept glancing at the empty passenger seat beside him. The road ahead stretched long and quiet, but every turn, every mile, carried one thought repeating in his chest like a heartbeat: he wasn’t done fighting for you. The marriage was broken, but not destroyed. Something still lived between you—raw, wounded, trembling, but alive. And he would do whatever it took to protect it. To protect you. To bring you back home.

But he had to wait.

He had to let you come to him on your own.

And that, he realized as the night carried him farther from your street, was the hardest part of all.

You watched from the window when Jungkook’s car pull away, the taillights fading into the distance as the evening air seems to thicken around you. Your chest tightens with every second the vehicle disappears, every heartbeat a quiet drum of regret and longing.

His words from earlier—“When will you come home?”—linger in your mind, echoing softly, vibrating in your ears long after the sound itself has vanished. The way he said it, with that quiet, fragile hope tucked beneath the edges of his voice, keeps replaying in your head, tugging at something deep inside you.

When he asked you that question, your chest tightened so hard you couldn’t breathe. Because the answer, the real answer, was yes. You wanted to go home. You wanted to step into that car, feel the warmth of him beside you, let him take you back to the life you shared. You wanted him. Home. Healing.

But you couldn’t give him that answer. Not yet.

Not when you were still carrying the weight of your lies.

Not when you were still haunted by the guilt of hurting him.

Not when your chest still felt cracked open from everything that happened in the past weeks.

He deserved a partner who wasn’t drowning in shame.

You deserved the consequences of every choice that led here.

So you told him you needed more time. And the way his face fell, even as he tried to hide it, stabbed through you with a pain that felt almost physical.

You stayed at the window long after the street returned to darkness, your breath shaky, your vision blurred. Your family was already asleep, unaware of the storm unraveling inside you. The house felt too quiet, too still, too small for everything you were feeling. You wrapped your arms around yourself, as if trying to hold yourself together, but the ache inside you was too wide and too deep.

The sob came without warning—deep, raw, and unsteady. You pressed a hand over your mouth, but the sound escaped anyway. You sank onto the edge of your bed, shoulders shaking, tears falling faster than you could wipe them. The weight of the entire night crashed onto you all at once.

You curled in on yourself, knees pulled to your chest, tears soaking into your pillow as your breath hitched unevenly.

It hurt.

It hurt so much more than you expected.

You were relieved that you talked tonight. Relieved that the truth was finally out. Relieved that Jungkook listened, that he didn’t walk away, that he still looked at you with hope in his eyes. The possibility of fixing your marriage, even if fragile, lingered like a tiny light in the dark.

But the relief twisted painfully with guilt.

Because you broke that marriage.

You shattered the trust he gave you freely.

You cracked something beautiful with your own hands.

And he still wanted you.

He still looked at you like you mattered.

He still asked you to come home.

That hurt the most.

You buried your face in the pillow, tears soaking the fabric as your body shook. “I don’t deserve him,” you whispered into the dark, voice trembling. “I don’t deserve anything he still gives me.”

You closed your eyes tightly, your chest clenching with a familiar ache. Because even now, even after everything, the only place you wanted to be was next to him.

And that realization broke you all over again.

You pressed a hand over your heart, whispering into the quiet room, “I want to come home. I want to come home to him. I want to choose him. But I can’t—not like this. Not while I’m still shattered.”

You wiped your tears, but more kept forming.

The night felt endless.

And you felt small against the weight of everything.

But somewhere in the silence, beneath the guilt and longing and exhaustion, there was a tiny thread of hope—a small, trembling line connecting you to Jungkook, reminding you that the story wasn’t over.

Not yet.

Not if you could find the courage to heal.

Not if he kept waiting for you with the same quiet devotion he showed tonight.

And you wondered—

Would you be brave enough to return to him?

Or would fear win before love had the chance to rebuild what was broken?

Tomorrow might hold the answer.

But tonight…

you let yourself cry for the love you wanted, the love you lost, and the love you were still learning to believe you deserved.

Jungkook reached the house long past midnight, driving in a silence so heavy it pressed against his ribs.

The city glittered indifferent to the storm twisting through his chest. Every red light, every curve in the road, every quiet breath inside the car felt like another reminder that he was going home alone… again. The lights blinked awake, revealing a home that suddenly felt too big, too cold. Your shoes weren’t by the door. Your sweater wasn’t draped over the couch. The faint citrus scent you always carried was already beginning to fade.

He walked through the space like a ghost, touching the back of the couch, the edge of the dining table, his fingers hovered over each object as if he could fill the void by pretending you were still there. But the silence kept reminding him, he had driven on without you, and now he was standing in the home you once shared, completely alone.

He paused at the bedroom door. For a moment, he considered sleeping on his side, the left, the side he claimed first. But when he flicked on the lamp, his eyes drifted to your pillow. The sheets were still faintly shaped to your body, the blanket slightly dented from the last night you slept curled away from him. He swallowed hard, walked around the bed, and lay down on your side instead. The scent of your shampoo was faint, barely there, like a memory dissolving too fast. He pressed his face into your pillow, closed his eyes, and tried to breathe, but every inhale hurt. He wondered if you were sleeping. If your cheeks were still wet from crying. If you were regretting everything or if you were simply tired. His chest tightened painfully. He didn’t know how long he stared at the ceiling, but eventually exhaustion dragged him under, into dreams where you still slept beside him, soft and warm and easily within reach.

Back in your family home, you lay curled on your side, facing the wall. Your breathing trembled in uneven waves, and your pillow was damp with the kind of tears that tasted like relief and regret running together. Your mother opened your door quietly, just enough to peek inside. She didn’t say anything. She didn’t ask. She simply watched you for a moment—saw the exhaustion in your shoulders, the way grief softened your features, the way your hands kept pulling the blanket closer as though searching for a warmth that wasn’t there. Then she closed the door without a word, giving you the silence you needed to crumble.

You pressed your fingers against your eyes, feeling the ache throb deeper. You knew Jungkook had finally driven away. You knew he was somewhere on the road thinking about you, and the thought both comforted and shattered you. You had wanted to run after him. You had wanted to say you’d come home. But you couldn’t—not like this, not when you were still breaking under the weight of your choices. You wanted to return whole, not trembling with guilt. You wanted to give him the version of you he deserved, not the wounded, frightened version you had been living as. But the longing carved you open. You missed him with an ache that clung to your ribs. The false pregnancy, the cold bathroom floor, his shaking hands, his voice whispering your name, it all spun in your head until you were too tired to feel anything except the hollow space where he should have been.

The sun rose in slow gold over Seoul, flooding the house with light he wished he could ignore. Jungkook woke with your pillow still pressed against his chest. He stayed still for a long time, staring at nothing, letting the emptiness sink into him. Then he reached for his phone on the nightstand. He stares at his phone, thumb hovering over the screen, hesitant to unlock it. The wallpaper you never noticed before stares back at him.

A photo of you at the arcade.

You were laughing, hair messy from static, eyes bright, your cheeks flushed from winning three games in a row. He remembered taking that photo with the intention of sending it to you… and never doing it. He remembered wanting to frame it. He remembered thinking you looked like everything pure and warm in his life.

He stared at that photo now with a softness that broke him open completely. Missing you felt like a physical ache—deep, slow, and impossible to escape. He turned the phone over in his palm, shut his eyes, and whispered your name—just once—as if saying it aloud might summon you back home.

You didn’t sleep much. When dawn seeped into your room, it landed on your face, warm and gentle, but it didn’t ease the heaviness still curled around your chest. You sat up slowly, your head resting against the headboard, your breaths small and unsteady. The world felt muted around you.

Then your phone buzzed.

You blinked, expecting a message again from Mrs. Jeon or maybe one of your cousins, but when you saw the name on the screen, your heart thudded painfully.

Jungkook.

His message was short, almost careful.

“I won’t come get you before you’re ready. Just… promise me you’ll come home. Take all the time you need. I’ll wait.”

A tremor ran through you. He didn’t demand anything. He didn’t mention the test or the fight or the distance.

He simply asked you to come home.

Not to fulfill a contract.

Not to pretend.

Not because you owed him something.

But because he wanted you.

Your throat tightened, and your fingers hovered over the screen, unable to form a reply.

Before you could gather yourself, another message came through. This time from Taehyung.

“How are you feeling today? Just checking if you ate. I’ll come over if you want company. If not, I’ll just keep checking in.”

You shut your eyes, a soft wave of warmth moving through the ache.

Two people who cared, reaching out.

Two reminders that you weren’t alone even though you felt like you were drifting.

That morning, with your phone warm in your hands and the sunlight climbing across your blankets, you realized something quietly terrifying—

you weren’t running anymore.

You weren’t hiding.

You weren’t pretending you didn’t want him.

You just didn’t know if you could go home yet.

Because loving him was easy.

Going back to him would take courage you weren’t sure you had.

And maybe…

just maybe…

Jungkook was sitting in his empty house wondering the same thing you were:

How long can love survive the distance between two people who are still learning how to forgive themselves.

The morning light spilled through the Jeon estate’s wide windows in soft sheets of gold, warming the quiet dining room where Mrs. Jeon sat alone with her breakfast. Her spoon stirred through her porridge slowly, absently, as though her mind was someplace far beyond the clinking dishes and polished marble floors. The steam rising from her cup of tea curled upward, gentle and calm, the only movement in the stillness.

Her lawyer—Mr. Han—sat across from her, adjusting his glasses with a mixture of confusion and disbelief. He had arrived straight from his office, summoned by a call from her secretary that simply said, “Mrs. Jeon would like to see you immediately.” He had served her for almost thirty years and knew her well enough to assume emergencies, business disputes, or political fires needed putting out. But certainly not… this.

“Are you sure you want to make these changes?” Mr. Han asked slowly, scanning the drafted document again. “This is a very sudden shift from your original estate plans.”

Mrs. Jeon didn’t flinch. She lifted her tea with calm, practiced poise, but something softer lingered behind her eyes—something Mr. Han wasn’t used to seeing in her.

“Yes,” she said. “Write it exactly as I told you.”

He cleared his throat. “Twenty percent to charity. Ten percent to your son. Ten percent to his wife.” His brows lifted. “And sixty percent… for future grandchildren.”

The room stilled.

Mr. Han blinked. “Future grandchildren? That portion alone is larger than both your son’s and daughter-in-law’s shares combined.”

Mrs. Jeon dabbed her lips with a napkin, expression unchanged. “That is correct.”

He hesitated again, adjusting his glasses for the second time, his tell when he didn’t know how to react. “Forgive me, ma’am, but… are they expecting a child?”

For the first time that morning, a faint smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. Not smug. Not satisfied. Something gentler. Something nearly maternal.

“I don’t know,” she said quietly. “Not yet.”

“Then why—”

“Because they will,” she replied, as if stating a truth as old as time. “I know they will.”

Mr. Han blinked in surprise. “With respect, ma’am… how can you be so certain?”

Mrs. Jeon leaned back in her chair, letting her gaze drift toward the large windows where sunlight painted the floor in warm patches. Her voice softened, dipped into something rarely heard from her.

"Because I know my son,” she murmured, her voice soft but sure. “And I know the kind of woman Y/N is. The moment I met her, I could see it. I knew right away that she was someone who could touch his heart in a way no one else could.”

She paused, as though flipping through the years, peeling back layers of memory until she reached a version of herself she rarely allowed to surface.

“When I was young,” she began, fingers tracing the rim of her teacup, “I wasn’t born into all of this. I worked for it. Every door I wanted opened, I had to knock, push, or break down myself.”

Mr. Han nodded. He knew. He had watched her rise from a brilliant young attorney’s daughter to one of the most influential businesswomen in the country.

“I was ambitious,” she continued. “Too ambitious, people said. Too loud. Too opinionated. Too focused on building a life that would not crumble under someone else’s choices.”

Her gaze sharpened just slightly, as if recalling a memory that still carried heat.

“And when I met Jungkook’s father, his family hated me. They thought I was beneath them. They thought I would ruin him. And I almost believed it.” Her voice dropped. “Almost.”

Mr. Han leaned forward. He had never heard her speak this openly about her past.

" But I stayed. I fought, for the love between me and my husband, for our family, for everything we had built together. And the first time I looked into Y/N’s eyes, I saw her ambition, her fire… the kind of determination that refuses to be ignored. Even then, I knew she was extraordinary.”

Her tone grew quieter, almost reflective.

“She was scared. Out of place. Unsure if she belonged. But beneath that fear… there was a will. A strength she didn’t even know she had yet. The kind that can rebuild a life. The kind I once had to dig out of myself with bloody hands.”

Mr. Han listened, breath held.

“That is why,” she continued, “I chose her.”

The morning light glinted off her wedding ring as she intertwined her fingers atop the table.

“Signing a marriage contract may look cold to others,” she said. “But it takes courage. It takes someone who is willing to take a leap into a life uncertain. To walk into a family like ours with no promise of love or acceptance.”

Her eyes softened.

“She did it. I watched her closely. I saw her sincerity every time she looked at Jungkook without knowing anyone was watching. I saw how she tried. How she made room for him. How she softened his edges without meaning to.”

A faint, almost wistful smile crossed her face.

“She reminded me of myself, at the age when I still believed I could build something lasting. Something real.”

She lifted her gaze to Mr. Han with complete, unwavering certainty.

“Y/N is the right person for him. The only one who can create a life with him that is not built on fear, but on love. And when they have a child… that child will be the piece of both of them that heals everything I broke.”

Mr. Han’s breath caught, stunned.

“Ma’am… are you saying you regret how you handled things?”

A silence followed, long and heavy.

Finally, Mrs. Jeon nodded.

“I was protecting my son the only way I knew how,” she whispered, her voice trembling slightly. “By trying to control everything around him. But in doing that… I forgot to trust him. And I forgot to trust the woman I chose for him. Now… he’s following his own heart, and all I can do is step back and watch."

Her voice cracked almost imperceptibly.

“I hurt them both. And this”—she gestured to the papers—“is the first step to making things right."

Mr. Han cleared his throat and picked up the fountain pen from the folder. “If you’re certain, ma’am… I’ll notarize this and begin the legal processing. The will becomes official today.”

Mrs. Jeon reached for the pen, her fingers steady, her expression resolute.

“Make it official,” she said.

Mrs. Jeon signed her name with a firm, graceful stroke.

When she placed the pen down, something in the room shifted.

As if old ghosts exhaled.

As if she had finally begun forgiving herself.

As Mr. Han left and the door closed behind him, Mrs. Jeon sat alone once more, her breakfast now cold.

She whispered into the empty dining room:

“Come home soon, Y/N. My son needs you. And I… I think I do too.”

Far away, in your family home, your phone buzzed softly on the nightstand—

a message from an unexpected name.

Mrs. Jeon: “Can we talk when you’re ready?"

You stare at your phone for a long time before you finally gather enough strength to open the message from Mrs. Jeon. The screen glows softly against the dim bedroom, and for a moment you simply sit there, feeling the weight of your exhaustion settle heavily across your shoulders. You’re too drained to react. Too tired to think. Too overwhelmed to reply.

So you lock your phone again and place it face-down on the table, your chest tightening with a mix of sadness and guilt. You know she meant well. You know she was trying. But right now your body feels hollow—like there’s a shadow sitting inside your ribcage where your heartbeat should be.

Across the city, Jungkook stands inside his office, sleeves rolled up, hair falling slightly across his forehead as he stares at the wall of reporters gathered outside the building. Namjoon stands beside him, arms crossed, concern written across his face.

“They’re not going to stop,” Namjoon says quietly. “The longer you stay silent, the more people will twist the story. You need to speak in your own voice.”

Jungkook presses his palms against the desk, trying to steady himself. His eyes look more tired than you’ve ever seen them. Weeks of restless nights, and the fear of losing you have carved shadows under his eyes.

“I don’t want to talk about myself,” he murmurs, his jaw tightening the way it always does when something hits too close. “I just… I hate that people think Y/N is like any other girl I could replace whenever I feel like it.”

He shakes his head, frustration and hurt tangled in his voice.

“She’s not someone you replace. She’s someone you fight for.

Namjoon nods, his hand resting firmly on Jungkook’s shoulder, “then clear it,” he says gently. “Speak up. Fix what you can. Don’t let people hold onto lies just because no one corrects them."

Jungkook lifts his head, something determined flickering in his expression. “Set the interview for today.”

Namjoon nods and immediately starts calling the PR team.

The morning light filters softly through the blinds, but you barely notice it. Your eyes are glued to your sister’s tablet as the livestream begins, your heart sinking and rising in equal measure. You weren’t expecting to watch him today, not like this, not so public—but somehow, every instinct in your body demands that you see him, hear him, defend you even when you can’t find the strength to defend yourself.

Jungkook’s face fills the screen. He looks tired, worn from sleepless nights and long hours, but there is a fire burning behind his eyes that makes your chest ache. Namjoon is at his side, calm, steady, the kind of support that Jungkook always needed but rarely admitted he wanted. And then the reporters begin, shouting questions, voices overlapping like a storm—but Jungkook takes a breath, straightens, and finally speaks.

“I know why everyone is here,” he says slowly, deliberately, his voice steady but layered with emotion. “I know that people saw a photo. I know it looked like something it wasn’t. I know there are assumptions. But I am standing here, today, not to defend myself from rumors or criticism, but to tell the truth about the one person who matters to me most. My wife.”

Your throat tightens, and your hand trembles as you press it to your mouth, holding back a sob. Every word he says feels like it was meant for you alone, spoken through the thousands of eyes watching and yet only reaching you.

"I did not kiss anyone,” he says, his hands tightening into fists on the desk in front of him, the camera capturing the tremor in his knuckles. “That photo… the angle makes it look like something it wasn’t. No one, could ever be more important to me than my wife. I am faithful to her, not because I have to be, but because I want to be. Because I love her. Because she deserves every ounce of respect, every moment of honesty, every fragment of my heart.”

You gasp softly, your hands clutching the blanket on your lap as if you could pull his words closer, make them real, tangible. He goes on, voice quiet but fierce, every word deliberate, every pause filled with meaning.

“I am not here to let those moments define us. I am here to say this: she is mine. She is the person I chose, the person I continue to choose every day. And no rumor, no photograph, no one else’s opinion, can ever take that away. I am committed to her. I am committed to us. And I will spend every moment proving that to her, however long it takes, however difficult it may be. Because she is worth it. And she is worth everything.”

By now, you are sobbing openly, your knees pulled to your chest. Your sister stays quiet, giving you space, and your mother watches from the doorway with soft eyes, her hand resting on her heart. Jungkook’s voice carries across the speakers, over the internet, over the thousands of miles, and yet it lands directly inside your chest, wrapping around your heart like a protective, unshakable embrace.

"And to my wife,” he continues, voice trembling now, raw and unguarded, “if you are watching this… I want you to know that I will never stop choosing you. No matter what happens, no matter how many storms we face, my heart has always, and will always, belong to you.”

He swallows hard, and the crack in his voice makes the words feel heavier, more real. “I will never stop loving you, not because it’s easy, but because it’s worth everything.”

His eyes glisten as he continues, the sincerity in his gaze reaching beyond the screen, beyond anyone who might be watching. “I will do whatever it takes to protect you, to protect the love we built, to protect the life we promised each other.”

His voice softens, gentle now, almost a whisper meant only for her. “You are my heart. You are my home. And I will always, always come back to you."

By the time he finishes, the room is silent. Even the reporters hesitate. Every camera on him seems to catch the raw sincerity, the depth of his emotions, and yet you barely notice them. You only see him, the man who has always loved you fiercely, even when you doubted, even when you thought you had lost him.

You press your hand to your heart, tears streaming down, body trembling, knowing that the moment you step out of this room, the first thing you will want is to be back in his arms. That you are still his. That you want to come home.

Your sister whispers softly beside you. “Go to him.”

And you know she’s right.

“I’m going back to Seoul,” you say, voice trembling but firm, feeling a spark of hope ignite in your chest for the first time in weeks. “I have to go to him."

The train ride felt longer than it should have, but maybe that was because every minute forced you to sit with emotions you had carefully pushed aside for too long. Outside the window, the city blurred into unfamiliar shapes, lights stretching into streaks of gold, then dissolving into the quieter colors of the suburbs. Your hands rested on your knees the entire journey, fingers curling, uncurling, unsure of what to hold on to. You had convinced yourself that distance was the kinder choice, even if it hollowed you out more each day.But seeing him on the news, his voice was steady but tight, the kind of tone he used only when he was trying not to fall apart in front of people. He spoke of you without hesitation. He kept repeating the word “wife” like it was a name, not a title, as if it was the only thing he still knew how to hold on to. And hearing that broke through the walls you had built around yourself. It made everything inside you unravel until the only thing left was the truth you had been avoiding. You still loved him. You wanted him more than you had wanted anything else. And despite the fracture between you, he still chose you openly, publicly, without shame.

When he asked you last night to come home with him, you told him you needed time. Not because you doubted him. Not because the love between you had faded. But because you felt undeserving. Because you were still piecing yourself back together and didn’t know how to return to someone you had wounded. But now, with the train slowing, your reflection flickering against the glass, you finally admitted what had been building in your chest: you wanted to try. You wanted to give the both of you a chance to rebuild what had been broken. You weren’t fixed. You weren’t even close. But you wanted him beside you while you learned how to stand again.

The taxi dropped you in front of the house before you had time to second-guess yourself. The street was quiet. A faint smell of damp earth lingered in the air from the afternoon rain. The porch light glowed softly, a warm circle against the dusk. Mrs. Jeon had given you this house where she wanted you to fill it with a life worth keeping. And for a while, you had. Laughter, shared meals, lazy mornings, quiet nights. Your fingerprints were everywhere on the walls even if you had scrubbed them clean before you left. This place once held every version of your happiness, and stepping toward it now felt like approaching a memory you weren’t sure you were allowed to touch again.

Your fingers hesitated above the keypad. You expected the code to fail. A rejection. A sign that you had lost your place here. But the moment you pressed the last number, the lock clicked. The beep was soft, almost gentle. You stood there for a moment, stunned, your heartbeat suddenly loud in your ears. He didn’t change it. He never shut you out. You pushed the door open slowly, stepping inside like a guest in a space that used to feel like skin. The house was dim, lit only by a small lamp in the living room. The silence felt thick, as if the walls themselves held breath they had been waiting to release.

You walked toward the glow, your steps almost silent on the familiar floor. Then you saw him. Jungkook was on the sofa, leaning back slightly, still wearing the same clothes from the press conference. His head rested against the cushion, eyes shut, chest rising with slow, heavy breaths. He looked completely worn out, as if the world had pressed too many questions onto his shoulders and he had run out of ways to answer. You stopped a few feet away. You didn’t want to startle him. You didn’t even know if you were allowed to wake him up. But your heart moved before your mind did.

You whispered his name. Barely a sound. More like a thought escaping your mouth.

His eyelids fluttered. He didn’t sit up right away. Instead, he opened his eyes slowly, as if surfacing from a long, heavy dream. For a second, he stared ahead blankly, the dazed look of someone who wasn’t sure if what he was seeing belonged to reality. Then his gaze found you near the doorway. And everything in him changed. His posture straightened slightly. His lips parted with a quiet inhale. His eyes softened then widened then softened again, trying to make sense of you standing there. He blinked once, as though afraid you might disappear between seconds.

He whispered your name. Not like a question. Not like an accusation. He said it the way someone might touch a scar they’ve lived with—carefully, with fear, with hope.

You didn’t even remember moving. One moment, you were frozen at the edge of the room; the next, you were in his arms. You folded into him, burying your face against his chest. His arms hesitated for only a fraction of a second before they wrapped around you completely, pulling you into the warmth you had missed more than you dared to admit. And once you felt him breathe against you, once you felt his hand rise to the back of your head in a quiet, familiar gesture of comfort, everything inside you broke open.

The tears came fast. You tried to stop them, to speak through them, but your voice cracked each time you tried. You clung to him the way someone clings to the one thing that finally makes sense. “I’m sorry,” you managed, your voice shaking so hard it barely sounded like yours. “I’m so sorry. I know sorry doesn’t fix anything, but I needed you to hear it. I needed… I needed you to know that I’m still trying to forgive myself. I don’t know how long that will take, but if you’re still willing, if you still want me here, I want to try. I want to build a life with you again. Even if I’m still learning how to breathe through all of this.”

He pulled back just enough to see your face. His eyes were red around the edges, like he had been fighting tears of his own long before you arrived. He lifted a hand, brushing your cheek gently, his thumb wiping away a tear that kept falling. “I’ve been waiting for you to come home,” he said quietly, not with dramatic flare, but with a truth so soft and steady it went straight to your heart. “Not because I expected you. But because I hoped. Every day, I hoped.”

Your breath shook. He leaned his forehead to yours, your tears nearly touching his skin, and in that small space, everything finally stilled. The ache. The fear. The distance. It all softened, just enough for you to breathe again.

You weren’t fixed. He wasn’t untouched by the pain. But you were in the same room again. In each other’s arms. And for the first time in a long time, the house felt like it remembered both of you.

Chapter Twelve

A/N: Hi lovelies! I worked hard to get this chapter out as soon as possible—because, let’s be honest, we’ve all been waiting for that test result, right? Hehe! Anyway, this chapter is everything we’ve been waiting for. Finally, they’re back in each other’s arms, hearts full of love. I really hope you enjoy it!

Tomorrow is December, and as I promised, I’m working on a Christmas-themed series for each member, so stay tuned. I can’t wait to share it soon.

Also, I’ll be providing a free meal for the youth in our community next week. They’ve been working hard organizing Christmas events in our little community, so I wanted to prepare a meal to show my appreciation for their effort. It would mean a lot if you could support me on Ko-fi to help with this. No pressure at all, I’m just happy to share this little part of my life with you! 🤍

@parapiop7 @andoyuki @pp0810 @maariinaaaaa @xtaemeex @jimochi @whoa-jo @kittenan2 @misschelliejeon @jksusawife @llallaaa @j0cgr0c @mar-lo-pap @svnbangtansworld @easterlyfusilli @mellyyyyyyx @zeebmaster @audreyny @koonightie @wonznme @butterymin @amarawayne @maybesbabys @jeonnabi11 @yuyu0y11 @jazzyb22 @jeonzll @impossiblecopoaffire @yooforeaa @lovingkoalaface @toosweetforyall @meeghangryfun @justletmeread601 @cuntessaiii @bts123746 @sleepypulm @rjsmochii @sweet-pinee @thatgirliehan @littlestarstinyseven @granataepfelchen @gyeomibearr @lachimolalajeon @wortzik-s @bbtsficrecs @wannaghostbts @songbyeonkim @guwol @rinaarmy @cherricherryy @overflowinggs @kook01kook @dmstoyangyang @sanarin

[soobck]

Go! By cortis is lowkey a bop

[jungkookstatts]

All Over Again

[Summary]: Paternity leave has its effects on Jungkook. After his first day back at work, he can't help but show you how much he doesn't want to go back.

[Theme]: Dad!Jk, CEO!Jk, Married Couple AU, Parent's AU

[Rating]: 18+ for sexual themes. Marking, kissing, nipple play, creampie, unprotected (wrap it up y'all), dom!JK, mentions of another pregnancy, talks of pregnancy and getting pregnant, etc.

[Word Count]: 4,274

[A/N]: This is a pure result of the urge my body suddenly gets to want a child right before my period smh. Anyway, felt cute, might delete later once I am sane.

It’s been a long ass day. Jungkook’s white button-up feels stapled to his skin, his pants folding uncomfortably with every step he makes as he exits his office. A long finger comes up to his neck, digging underneath his striped tie, wiggling it a little to loosen the chokehold it has around his neck. His other hand feels bound to his briefcase, which carries so much importance in his life but yet so much burden at the same time.

It’s his first day back at work after his baby boy was born. The briefcase he holds reminds him of the duty he has to his family — of his passion and his support for you and your baby. But it also reminds him of the time it has ripped away from spending with you. He clutches it with so much strength at the thought of you, pulling his car keys out of his pocket and pressing the unlock button so hard, that he thinks he almost might just break it.

With a deep breath, he takes off his tie and tosses it in the passenger seat along with his briefcase. He’s ready to go home. That picture of you, him, and your son that you insisted on framing and Jungkook bringing to work has been a constant reminder of what he has to look forward to at the end of the day. If only his paternity leave could have been longer. You and his son are all he’s been able to think about. How you were doing, if you needed his help, if Jaemun was being feisty, how the cute crinkle on his nose resembles yours to a T.

It’s late January, and the winter air is unforgiving. He wonders if you have the heat on high enough; if Jaemun had enough blankets, or if the tip of your nose was cold like how it always is in the winter months. He can imagine you holding him close, swaddling him as you sing to him delicately. The thought makes his whole body warm, even though the air is so cold that it feels like glass is cutting against his skin.

He’s convinced he will take more time off. He’s the CEO, after all. He could take months off and it not matter. He wants to be with you always — at all times of the day to hold you and be there for you like he should be. If only the world had been that easy to where passions didn’t have a price. He got lucky, his passion having a heavy penny attached to it. But he wonders where that passion took something more valuable away from him — time. He finds himself now strapped between the choice of time and passion, and he fights the fact that he cannot choose both.

The door to your home is welcoming to his eyes as he pulls up to it. It’s not big by any means. Just homey and enough for the three of you. Even with the snow covering almost every inch of it, the reminder of how warm it is on the inside makes his drive to enter it even greater. He does so with a shiver, coming up to your shared home with a stomp of his boots to shake off the snow just before he enters.

To his surprise, he’s met with hushed music coming from the kitchen as he puts his winter coat on the hook, places his briefcase on the wooden floor, and shimmies out of his shoes. He looks at his watch first, making sure it’s not Jaemun’s nap time, to which he finds out it is. The soft music makes sense now, and he smiles when he makes his way down the hallway to the source of the noise.

The rest of the house is dark except for the kitchen-living room area that you and your baby rest in. Jaemun is peacefully sleeping in his bassinet by the couch, cuddling his dinosaur blanket, while you are by the stove, stirring something.

You look over your shoulder at the sound of familiar footsteps, and your heart immediately softens at the sight of your husband in the doorframe. He smiles back tiredly, running his hand through his hair in an exhausted attempt to pull himself together before he makes his way over to you. He looks relieved, like he’s finally received what he’s wanted all day. You’re happy to see him, knowing all too well that that’s what you’ve been waiting for all day, too.

Big, warm hands slide around your waist, a heavy chin rests on your shoulder as he kisses your cheek softly. He takes a deep breath, breathing in your presence as he releases the tension from work off his shoulders. You tend to have an instant effect on him — he missed you so much.

“You’re stirring water?” he laughs as he stares at the pot of water on the stove, unboiled, as you stir it as if it is.

“I’m trying to get it to boil quicker,” you explain with a defeated sigh. “Doesn’t seem to be working. I feel like I’ve been standing here for 20 minutes.”

He hums from behind you, taking your stirring hand and stopping your motions. You’ve never been a big cooker, but he knows you’ve been trying lately. “Just let it be, love. It’ll get there.”

You do as he says, putting the ladle down on the countertop and turning around in his embrace. You wrap your arms around his neck, staring at the tall man who holds you close against him. You’re met with a tired Jungkook who rests his forehead against yours as you play with the hairs at the back of his head.

“How was work?” you ask gently.

He groans, wrapping his hands around your waist and holding you tighter against him. It causes you to rest your cheek on his shoulder, hugging him in full.

“That bad?” you chuckle.

Your husband just sighs against your neck. “It’s too early to go back, Y/n,” he candors.

You tuck a strand of hair that fell in front of his face behind his ear. “We’re ok, Kook,” you comfort. But he only shakes his head, making the tucked strand fall out of its place again.

“I’m not,” he says. “I want to be here with you. Spend time with Jaemun before he’s suddenly 25.”

You chuckle at that. It does feel like that sometimes. It’s been three months since your son was born, but it feels like it was just yesterday that you were holding him for the first time.

You can only hold his cheek in response, running your thumb slowly against his soft skin. You feel for him, you really do. He’s such a good father. It makes your heartstrings tug and twist and pull every time you see him with your little boy. It’s only a matter of time before you have to go back to work as well. The thought makes your stomach turn, and you can completely sympathize with your husband dreading going back to work and leaving you and Jaemun.

“Your water is boiling,” he breaks you out of your daze.

“Oh,” you turn around. You smile, knowing he was right before. “I’m making pasta if that sounds ok?”

Jungkook kisses your neck in response, a gentle thing that has your tummy flipping for a second.

“You could also probably wake up our son,” you check the time on the microwave. “He’s been a little sleepy today, so I let his nap go for a little longer than usual.”

You add the pasta in and turn the water down, moving over to the greens left on the cutting board. You start chopping until your husband’s lips move lower.

“Our son,” he whispers, kissing your collarbone. The statement makes him jittery. It feels unreal still, even after nine months of waiting, and another three of actually having your little family here with him. You’re his wife, the mother of his kid, and he loves you more than anything in the world. You gave him something he can never find an equivalent to giving back to you. You gave him your heart and a family, and there’s nothing that can replace or overcome what that means to him. His soul lives for yours; it’s overwhelming what you’ve done for him. It’s overwhelming how you make him feel.

He kisses your collarbone softly once again, his heart full. You tilt your head to the side for more, and he gives it to you, kissing up your neck with slow wet kisses.

“Kook,” you exhale gently. You feel him hum against the skin just under your ear. Large palms cup your waist, his body moving closer to yours, trapping your hips against the countertop. Your knife feels loose in your hand when he bites at your skin gently, his tongue brushing over the bite mark afterward.

He stirs something within you. Something that you’ve missed terribly for the past few months. It makes your thighs tremble as he gently caresses your skin under his fingertips.

“The baby—“ you begin, but Jungkook’s motions cut you off yet again when his fingers slowly slide down your front. He’s unsure, his hand hesitating over your skin as his breath stops momentarily in thought.

“Is this okay?” He asks you genuinely. You nearly fall to your knees, dropping your knife onto the board, when his fingers put pressure over your clothed mound. It’s subtle, and much more gentle than what you’re used to with him. You know he’s being cautious, but god did you miss him. “If it’s too much, I’ll pull away.”

You shake your head.

It’s been a long time since the two of you have gotten intimate. Childbirth wasn’t easy, and your doctor just recently gave you two the “ok” for sex. The first time you tried since then wasn’t like what you’re used to with your husband. It was slow and painful, ending with a lot of apologies, embarrassment, and frustration. It’s safe to say that you have to get used to sex all over again.

“No,” you lean against him. “J-Just be gentle. I’m still a little sore.”

“Ok,” he whispers against your neck, kissing it softly. “Just relax for me, baby. I’ll make it feel good, I promise.”

You nod, loosening your nervous shoulders as your husband takes control. He stops swiftly for a second, turning the stove on the lowest setting before looking over his shoulder at his son to ensure he’s still fast asleep. Once he sees that he is, he immediately returns to you.

“So good for me,” he says, slowly circling your clit over your sweats. His other hand squeezes your waist before it moves up, sliding under your shirt and trickling over your breast. You’re wearing a soft bra today—one without an underwire—which makes it easier for him to slide his fingers under.

You whimper when he softly massages your boob, his fingers playing with your nipples gently. Your body, especially your breasts, has become 10x more sensitive since birth. You can feel everything, and everything either hurts or feels really really good. Whenever your husband seems to hold them, you’re a whimpering mess, melting like putty in his arms as he plays with you.

“Sensitive,” Jungkook smiles. His fingers rub harder against you, and you subtly buck your hips against him. His lips graze against your skin, his hair tickling your collarbone as he assaults your neck over and over again. 

“You’re so cute when you’re pregnant,” he rasps against your cheek before planting a sweet kiss upon it. “Wanna see you like that all the time. So full of me — carrying our babies.”

“Jungkook, I—” you whine, grasping onto his wrist. You’re unsure what to do with yourself, wanting him to do so much to you, but not knowing where to start.

The man behind you takes his hand away from your mound, and he chuckles when you whine in protest. But his thumbs hook on your pants and underwear, slowly pulling them down.

“Relax, baby,” he asks again. “I told you, I’m gonna take care of you. Don’t worry.”

His hand slides around your waist again, smoothing over your skin until it’s sliding between your folds. The back of your hand comes up to your mouth as your other grips the countertop for support as he plays with you.

“So wet,” he moans, feeling the effect he’s had on you with his fingers. “This all for me? I’ve barely touched you yet.”

You nod, feeling completely at the mercy of the man behind you. His other hand plays with your nipple again, and you feel another wave of euphoria go straight to your pussy.

His fingers gather your slick generously, smoothing it over your clit before circling it gently. He plays infinities over it, making your knees go weak. It’s getting harder to stay quiet, especially when he pinches your nipple gently, making you gasp at the soreness and pleasure it causes.

“K-Kook,” you whine, but he only chuckles, quickening his motions on your clit as he presses further into you. You can feel his dick strained against his work pants, and the thought of him inside you again makes you feel so needy for him. “Want you,” you pant. “Please.”

“Patience,” he shushes you, kissing your neck surely. “I haven’t even made you cum yet.”

“Wanna cum with you,” you whine in protest.

“You will,” he promises.

You gasp as he switches his finger, his thumb trading places with his middle. It circles over you just the same, except this time, it’s joined by his middle finger slowly inserting itself between your folds.

“Oh,” you exhale, feeling weak when he pumps it in and out of you slowly.

He lets himself test your reactions, seeing if the insertion is too much — if it hurts or feels uncomfortable. It doesn’t seem to be, and he slowly lets his ring finger join with his middle, causing you to roll your eyes back slightly.

“So good for me, baby,” he encourages. “Does that feel good?”

“Yes,” you reply almost immediately.

He kisses your neck. His lips leave hot, wet marks all over your skin as he curls his fingers against your g-spot. His other hand quickly comes to your waist, stabilizing you as you whimper against the back of your hand, trying your best to keep quiet.

He circles his thumb faster, his fingers circling and brushing against your g-spot in tandem with his movements. You feel your orgasm looming over you, and with a certain pressure against your clit, you’re coming undone just as he said you would all over his fingers.

“There you are,” he coaxes you. You’re a whimpering mess, and he feels his dick twitch at the sight of you falling apart on his fingers. He helps you ride out your high, his fingers very gently brushing over your clit as you come down.

Once you're calmed down, you reach around you, playing with his belt loop as you rest your head on his shoulder and look up at him. He looks back down, hesitating again knowing what you want but unsure if it’s too much for you to handle yet.

“What,” he smiles teasingly with a kiss to your forehead.

“I want you,” you candor, looking at up him with pleading eyes.

He kisses your nose. “Are you sure? You said it hurt last time.”

You nod. “Please, Koo,” you beg him.

His chest rises, and he takes a deep breath before he nods, kissing you gently as he unbuckles his belt. He places it on the counter before unzipping himself and pulling his pants down. It springs up, pressing itself against your skin gently. But he takes himself in his hands, hesitantly letting it slide down over your folds. 

“Let me know if I’m hurting you, okay?” He says, lining himself up to you with a few strokes of his cock. God, was he nervous. The last time sex hurt really bad for you, and that was just a week ago. He wonders if the prep was enough; he hopes it was, he really doesn’t want to hurt you again.

You nod, holding onto the countertop again as his tip rubs against your entrance. Your coat his cock in such slickness, even you’re surprised at how much you leak onto him. You miss your husband. You need this bad, and so does he.

“Oh, and try to stay quiet, yeah?” He says with a push of his hips. The motion has him covering your mouth with his hand, shielding your moans quickly. “The baby is still sleeping.”

His dick slips past your folds so smoothly, it has you gasping for breath at how good it feels. It’s nothing like the last time. He’s gentler, but still so so big, he fills you up just right.

“Fuck,” he whispers against your neck once he sheathes himself fully inside of you. The man behind you stills, completely overwhelmed with the feeling of you. He, too feels like he’s had to relearn sex all over again. How to please you right now that your body has changed, how to make sure that you are comfortable with his pace and size. You two haven’t had sex like this in so long, he feels overwhelmed when you feel almost too good for him to control. A part of him is embarrassed by how quickly he thinks he’s going to last. 

“How are you still so tight, hm?” he asks with a firm grip on your hip. “Y-You okay?”

You can only nod, pushing your hips down against him. The motion forces him further into you, to which both of you grunt at the feeling.

Testingly, Jungkook pulls out slowly, before pushing back into you a little quicker than before. You coat him generously, creating a motion that makes it easy for him to repeat. 

He develops a pace, fucking you against the kitchen countertop with your juices leaking all over his cock and down your thighs. The stove is on and your baby still sleeps; there are uncut vegetables in front of you and your husband still wears his work shirt. But he fucks you as if none of that matters. As if his only priority is to make sure you feel good, to let yourself go as he fuck you deep and just how you like it. 

His hand comes off from your mouth and settles on your hip. His other hand wraps around your front, holding you impossibly close against his body.

You moan softly when he bends you over slightly against the countertop, the new angle making it hard for you to stay quiet. But you push your hips against him anyway, telling him without words to go deeper.

The action causes him to moan, following your request with a snap of his hips.

“You like it that much, hm?” He grunts, cock ramming into you. “Like it when I knock you up good?”

“Y-Yes!” You whisper. “I love it so much, Koo.”

“Y-yeah?” He leans over you. A tattooed hand cups over yours, palm embracing the back of your hand as he intertwines his fingers with yours. “Gonna let me do it again?”

“Mmhm,” you squeeze his fingers. “As many times as y-you want.”

“A-Ah,” he pants, mind going into a frenzy over your words. The fact that he is yours, that you are his. That only he can hear you say that. That only he can make you feel this good. That only he has the privilege of calling you his wife. It makes his heart warm and his cock twitch. 

“God, I’m going to ruin you if you say things like that, Y/n,” he warns. But you are relentless, leaning your head back on his shoulder, giving yourself to him further. 

“W-Want you to,” you whimper. “I love you.” 

Your legs shake, completely weak from your past orgasm and your new one forming at the pit of your stomach. His cock makes you feel so full, like you’re stretched to the max capacity as he fucks you good. You know he’s close when his dick twitches inside of you after your words, which only encourages you to gain some strength and begin fucking yourself back on his cock.

“Mm, fuck,” he grips your hips tightly. “M’ gonna cum.”

He quickly reaches around you again, drawing infinities over your clit with his middle finger. His eyes roll back as your cunt naturally tightens at the feeling. Your hips jolt and the knots in your tummy slowly start to unravel themselves onto his dick as you come undone. Just as he had promised, with a final twitch, he’s cumming inside of you with hot, thick ropes filling you up with whispered exhales of your name on his lips.

He lets the two of you catch your breath, his forehead resting on your shoulder before he’s pulling out, shared cum leaking down your thighs and onto the floor. Quickly, he grabs a paper towel from the roll next to the stove and cleans you up a little.

With gentle hands, he helps you back into your sweats before he helps himself into his boxers. He still lingers behind you when he reaches a hand around you and turns the stove on a higher setting once again. 

You turn around, wrapping your hands around his neck as you pull him in for a much-needed kiss. “I love you,” you whisper against him again. His hair falls onto your skin, dark locks intertangling with yours as his fingers come up to hold your face against his. Soft lips sear over yours, telling you things that simply cannot be put into words. 

“I love you, too,” he brushes his nose against yours. “Was that okay? I didn’t hurt you?”

You pause, looking up at his dilated pupils. He looks at you like you're his world; like he's given you his heart with the full intent of never receiving it back from you. You nod, kissing him softly again. 

“You should probably wake up your son now,” you poke his cheek.

Looking at the time on the microwave, he snaps out of his daze. “Oh fuck,” he says as his fingers leave your side. You watch him leave you with a chuckle, turning back to your pasta wondering how in the world you go so lucky to marry and mother a kid to this man. You’d truly give him anything he wanted. 

***

[Bonus]

With gentle hands, so big against his baby’s frame, he picks Jaemun up in his arms, holding him against his chest. His dinosaur blanket swaddles him softly, and Jungkook does his best to make sure he’s correctly supported and held despite the extra fabric over his small frame. 

Jaemun stirs, and Jungkook places a soft kiss on his tiny head before he gets the chance to freak out and cry. The baby seems to know exactly who is holding him, and he nearly falls back asleep at the familiarity of his father’s arms. But Jungkook bounces him against his chest softly, slowly waking him up for dinnertime.

He makes his way over to you, making unnecessary airplane noises, from what you assume is Jungkook pretending to be an airplane and his son the passenger.

“You know, babies can’t laugh until they’re about 4 months,” you shake your head with a laugh.

“False,” your husband comes behind you again. “I swear he’s laughed before.”

You chuckle, taking the pan off the stove and pouring the insides into a strainer. Just the noodles are left in the strainer now, and you realize that you haven’t thought past the part of boiling the noodles. You ignore that you have no idea what kind of pasta you’re making when Jungkook rests himself against the kitchen island. 

Jaemun catches sight of you, and his arm reaches for you in Jungkook’s hold. You come over, giving him a kiss on the forehead before kissing your husband.

“Were you serious?” your husband asks you suddenly. 

“About?” you raise your eyebrow. 

“You know,” he gulps, holding Jaemun a little tighter. He rests against Jungkook's shoulder, his eyes tempting to fall back asleep again. “More kids.” 

You raise both your eyebrows again, looking at him as if he was serious. His heart beats faster when he realizes what you’re thinking, quickly rephrasing himself. 

“N-Not now, of course,” he gulps. 

You turn around, opening the fridge for some milk for Jaemun as you listen to him. You take out a pot, take the cased breast milk from earlier, and pour it in, turning on the stove afterward. 

“I just mean, like, in the future,” he explains.

There’s a long pause as you wait for the pot to heat up enough. The man behind you is weak, and you don’t know if you want to be mean and give him the blunt answer, or soften the blow. Watching how he cradles your son makes you want to go with the first choice. 

“Don’t you worry Jeon,” you start, as you stir the contents in the pot. You can hear him gulp behind you. “I planned on giving you as many babies as you want. But at least wait until Jaemun is in pre-school or something. I don’t think I can handle two infants at once.” 

You hear little from him at your answer, leaving you smirking knowing full well that you put the man behind you in a frenzy imagining the future you just laid out for him.

***

[End. Do not copy. Original work of @jungkookstatts , 2023]

[daisymbin]

cuddles and... forever plans? - jeon wonwoo

wc: 0.9k

a/n: reqs works are scheduled up!! will start tmr!!!! or later today for u if we have different timezones hh

check out my masterlist! // wonwoo's m.list

wonwoo slipped his shoes off quietly, careful not to make a sound as he stepped into the apartment. the clock on the wall read 1:17am, the soft tick of its hands the only noise breaking the stillness. he set his bag down and shrugged out of his coat, the weight of the long day still clinging to him.

then, he saw you.

curled up on the sofa, wrapped messily in the familiar blanket he’d seen you use a thousand times, you looked so peaceful. the lamp beside you cast a warm glow, highlighting the delicate curve of your face and the way your chest rose and fell with each steady breath. his heart ached and swelled at the same time.

you’d fallen asleep waiting for him. again.

“everyday you remind me again, just how beautiful you are,” he whispered under his breath, though the sentiment lingered, heavy and unspoken.

he crouched beside the sofa, brushing a loose strand of hair away from your face. guilt gnawed at him—he hated coming home so late, hated making you wait and always told you not to, but there you were, patient even in your sleep, as if to remind him you’d always be there.

he leaned down, his lips brushing softly against your temple. “i’m sorry,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion.

he stood reluctantly, opting for a quick shower first. the warm water offered some reprieve, but his thoughts were filled with you. the way you’d stayed up, even though you didn’t have to. the way you always did.

when he returned, you were still asleep. he smiled to himself, shaking his head fondly as he crossed the room. kneeling down, he slipped his arms under you;one beneath your knees, the other around your shoulders and lifted you carefully.

you stirred slightly, instinctively leaning into his chest, seeking his warmth, your face pressed against his neck. he held you closer, the scent of your shampoo lingering faintly in the air.

“you make it so hard not to love you,” he whispered, his voice barely audible.

the walk to the bedroom felt longer than usual, each step measured and deliberate; making sure not to wake you. when he finally laid you down, your body sank into the mattress, your head resting gently against the pillow.

just as he was about to pull away, your eyes fluttered open, your gaze unfocused but warm. “wonwoo?” you murmured, your voice soft and laced with sleep.

he smiled, leaning down to kiss your forehead. “go back to sleep, angel. i’m home.”

you reached out, your fingers brushing against his wrist before curling around it.

he climbed into bed beside you, his arm draping over your waist as you settled against him. the room was quiet, save for the soft hum of your breathing. he tried to close his eyes, to let the exhaustion take over, but he couldn’t.

his gaze drifted to you, tracing the delicate curve of your cheek, the way your lips parted slightly as you exhaled. his fingers twitched with the urge to reach out, to memorize every inch of you with his touch.

you shifted slightly, your voice heavy with sleep. “why aren’t you sleeping?”

he froze, caught. “i... i’m just thinking.”

“about what?” you asked, your eyes still closed but your voice tinged with curiosity.

he hesitated. how could he put it into words? how could he explain the way tonight had made him realize just how much he wanted you in his life—forever?

he swallowed hard, his heart pounding. the words were stuck in his throat, a mix of fear and hope swirling in his chest. “can i ask you something?”

you shifted slightly, turning your head toward him. hmm, you hummed.

his fingers brushed against your arm, his touch tentative. “can i... can i watch you sleep tonight? and every night after for the rest of our lives?”

the silence that followed was deafening. his chest tightened, panic bubbling up as the seconds stretched on.

“not now! i mean, someday. i’m not asking you right this second. unless you want me to? but no, i mean—just for the future. for reference? you know, like... just to know where you stand on it?” his words spilled out in a nervous rush, his usual calm and collected demeanor nowhere to be found.

then, you laughed. soft and sweet, the sound eased the tension in his chest

“wonwoo,” you murmured, your voice warm and full of affection. your hand reached out, finding his and squeezing gently. “you don’t need to panic. the answer is yes.”

his breath caught. “yes?”

“yes,” you repeated, opening your eyes to meet his. they were still heavy with sleep, but the love in them was unmistakable. “yes for now, yes for the future. no references needed.”

his lips parted, his heart pounding as the weight of your words sank in. he leaned forward, pressing a kiss to your forehead, then your cheek, then the corner of your mouth.

“thank you,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion.

you smiled, your hand finding its way to his cheek. “stop thanking me and go to sleep, wonwoo.”

he chuckled softly, pulling you closer until your head rested against his chest. “okay,” he murmured, his voice tinged with relief and joy.

as your breathing evened out again, he closed his eyes, his heart full in a way it hadn’t been before. because now, he wasn’t just holding you for tonight—he was holding a promise. a future. a forever.