pairing. jjk x f!reader. rating. general. tags. fluff. the barest hint of angst if you squint really, really hard. wc. 0.9k.
Love is scary. It’s never been something you could look at and say “see, that’s love.” It existed in too many forms, presented itself in too many ways.
It terrifies you - and Jungkook can do nothing about it. He tries though and with time and patience and all of his shitty corny jokes, things have gotten better. You’ve softened, fallen in love despite yourself.
Sometimes, you’re still a little out of reach - just a little too far. (On more than one occasion, he’s wondered if he’s asking for too much.)
It’s easier when he thinks how much progress you’ve made.
“Your number in exchange for my troubles?”
“No.” You’d said it so clearly, not an ounce of hesitation. Even with him dressed in your coffee, you’d refused him. “Sorry.” You hadn’t sounded very sorry.
Imagine his surprise when he’d met you again, a week later, at a mutual friend’s birthday.
“Can I have your number now?” Jungkook was nothing if not persistent.
You had refused to budge, sipping politely at your cranberry vodka and studying him over the rim of the glass. “No.”
It’d only been at the end of the night, when you’d been making your rounds - saying goodbye and swinging hands around shoulders - that you’d finally said yes. Probably because you were maybe, just a little, slightly under the influence.
When you’d smiled, though - he could’ve sworn you were just as happy as he was.
It was the first snowfall in the city, nearly three months since you’d started seeing each other. You’d pouted and whined, staring out the huge industrial windows with your chin in your hand.
“Snow sucks,” you’d huffed, puffed like a big bad wolf.
“Let’s go away then.” He’d been meaning to ask - had looked at tickets just that morning, in his free period before his students had come milling into his classroom babbling about their weekends. There’d been a deal somewhere tropical, somewhere you’d mentioned once in passing when he’d been looking at the weather forecast.
“Or not.”
“Why not?” His insistence was the same as it always was, creeping up your spine and sitting comfortably around your shoulders. A woolen scarf that’d keep you warm even on the coldest of nights.
“That’s like…” You’d shrugged, pushed your way out of bed to busy yourself with something in the kitchen. He could read you like a book even then, practically mouth the words you’d speak next. “Kind of serious.”
“We’re kind of serious, aren’t we?”
He hadn’t expected the look you’d tossed his way, fleeting but terribly clear in the dim light. Worry.
You’d said yes, again, by the end of the night. Even when you tried, you couldn’t say no.
“Move in with me.” It’d been your sixth consecutive hour in bed, a lazy Sunday morning that’d stretched into the afternoon. You’d even cancelled your standing brunch reservation, opting to stay cozied up in bed together. He’d held you like you were precious, treasure, the most important thing in the world.
You’d done the same, though you pretended not to. You hated being vulnerable.
“Why?” For once, not a no. He remembers the surprise, the lack of an outright denial spurring his eyebrows into his hairline. You’d scowled at him, whacked a hand across his pec as if aiming for the thing that beat for you. (Only you.)
“You’re always here anyway.”
“You just want someone to help you with rent.” Well, that’d been true. As much as he loved you, you took too long showers and always forgot to turn off the light when you left. His bills had somehow skyrocketed.
But that wasn’t why. The why was you. It was always you.
It’d taken another two weeks but you were moved in before summer, all your hangers hung up beside his, your unnecessarily extensive skincare routine taking up all the real estate on his bathroom counter.
He’d thought it’d happen how it always did, starting with a no and ending with a yes.
For once, Jungkook was surprised. You’d packed your bags and left, taking his heart with you and leaving the little velvet box on the counter.
“I’m not marrying you,” you’d said with an air of finality he’d never heard before.
He’d thought that’d be the end. He was wrong then too.
“Baby.”
You’re half asleep on his chest, book having fallen out of your grip sometime over the last half hour. He’s been stuck watching YouTube autoplay, too afraid of waking you up to try to grab the Apple remote stuck under your butt.
“Hu-u-uuh?” You’re bleary-eyed, beautiful. When you speak, he feels the little puddle of drool on his skin spread, pushed around by the shape of your mouth. The sound you make is hilarious - decidedly not very sophisticated, a world away from the you that sees the rest of the world.
“I want a baby.” Jungkook’s nonchalant about it because he’s learnt what the worst case scenario is and knows you’ll never be back there. You’re stuck with him forever now. You’d promised.
Even in your exhaustion, you’re incredulous, staring up at him like you’re not sure whether everything’s a fever dream or reality. “You want a baby?”
“Yeah.”
“You are a baby.” It’s not a no. He latches onto that with his teeth, bares them in his adorable bunny smile he knows you can’t resist.
“I’m twenty-eight, actually.”
“Baby.” You’re mocking him, dropping your head back against his heated skin. He can feel you smiling, even as you try to hide it.
