So show me, I'll show you

Fic recs except I treat this blog like a reading list.

[ohhowjooniewept]

ex husband jungkook x ex wife y/n

fluff, angst, smut, yearnnnnniiinnngggggg

25k>

—

life was supposed to go forward the way you had always been told.

find someone, fall in love, get married, have kids.

that was the formula - the routine of every day life that you, yourself, had agreed to. it was supposed to be easy and carefree, the type of love that felt natural and yet definite. it was supposed to be certain.

jeon jungkook.

the love of your life. no one, nothing, could compare to him; the one constant in your life since you were no older than five. two years older than you, he had been the object of your infatuations even then, and though you both harboured a crush on one another as you grew up, it was only when you were 14 that you both actually pursued something.

you both came from broken homes, with your parents entangled in the world of drugs and abuse, his absent more times than present. you had each other though, and that was all either of you had ever really needed - that much had been true for years. it didn’t take long to fall in love with him, not when he treated you like blooming flowers in the first touch of spring; you were more than just his girl. you were his y/n.

no one blinked when he proposed, everyone half expecting it, and neither of you had wanted to wait to plan a lavish wedding when you were both the only constants in each other’s lives. and so, with cheap rings, a random dress you had found at the bottom of your wardrobe and his scuffed shoes - you had become husband and wife.

jungkook was the best partner you could have ever asked for. money was tight in the beginning as he threw himself into his job, making sure he had enough to spoil you rotten even if that meant coming home exhausted. it killed you to see him working so hard, but he never complained, not even once. it was done in the pursuit of his sweet wife, and therefore just.

he quickly began climbing the ranks, his intelligence unmatched, his speed and efficiency making him a force to be reckoned with. in a mere seven years, he had managed to go from the lowest ranking worker in the company right to head office, before formally being announced as ceo.

it was unheard of. people like him, people like you, they didn’t live like this. it felt like over night your entire life had changed, as the tiny, one bed apartment transformed into a penthouse suite in your city’s most reputable area, your beaten down car now more lavish than you could ever dream of. your clothes - silks, linens and luxurious patterns. you were a changed woman, all at the hands of your husband.

that was when the cracks had began to form.

the late nights began, jungkook holed up in his office for far longer than anyone else at the company, stacks of paper all around as he tried to crack numbers before the next day could bring its own workload. you didn’t mind at first, more so worried over anything else.

you packed late dinners, going up to his office and eating them with him just to keep him company, to ground him which he needed more than you could ever realise. he would sit you on his lap as he worked, all whilst you napped peacefully on his shoulder as though this was perfectly normal.

the first few months, it worked. after that, it could no longer hide the gaping hole that had begun to appear.

missed dinners. missed dates. jungkook showing up at two in the morning despite everyone else going home at five in the afternoon - this wasn’t normal. wasn’t healthy. the amount of arguments that were being caused due to his workaholic nature was alarming, especially considering neither of you had ever even raised your voices to one another prior to this.

your heart was getting heavier and heavier.

not because you doubted his love for you - that wasn’t even a question in your mind, that much was certain. if anything, jungkook loved you too much, entirely and wholly, with every single decision made in his life somehow tracing back to you in one way or another. whether it was purchasing things, buying them with the intent of impressing you, making you happy or smile. every opportunity, every signed contract, every bastard fucking meeting that he could feel so deeply in his bones was done with the intention of giving you a life so soft you would never experience hardship again.

that was where the problem lay.

jungkook didn’t know how to love in a way that could nurture your relationship through this, and so, he did the only thing he could. he sacrificed.

slowly, painfully, the realisation that somewhere between the neglect, the late nights and unanswered phone calls, your husband had stopped being your husband at all. he had become a mere ghost in your shared home.

the night you had made your decision was one that felt imprinted in your memory.

it was past midnight, the harsh light of your phone reminding you with each passing moment. the rain was harsh too, with it being the middle of autumn, causing you to curl deeper into the covers on your bed but it did nothing to chase the cold away. dinner had long gone cold downstairs, with your housekeeper giving you a long, sad look before leaving to her own home, patting you on the shoulder in comfort.

your heart hurt so fucking much.

your phone was untouched, with messages sent hours prior despite the lack of response.

‘where are you?’

‘are you coming home tonight?’

‘jungkook, you promised.’

‘i miss you.’

you felt pathetic. humiliation ran up and down your veins at the thought of having to beg for a morsel of attention from your husband, but what else were you supposed to do? what else could you do? loneliness had a tendency to do that to people.

the sound of the front door finally opening had your eyes looking up, no longer staring into space, thinking. overthinking.

jungkook finally stumbled in, hours and hours late, shoulders tense and black coat half wet due to the rain outside. his phone had died hours ago, and his brain was a jumble of numbers and stakeholders, still muttering under his breath over something one of his colleagues had said. he was exhaustion personified.

“baby.” he exhaled deeply upon the sight of you still up.

1:47am.

you stared at him, unable to focus on anything in particular as your reddened eyes somehow glinted in the moonlit essence of the room. his heart ached.

“you missed it again.” you whispered, barely audible.

another dinner sat cold. jungkook had noticed it on his way up, muttering a small fuck under his breath, but seeing you now? something had changed, something was different and the sight scared him to death.

“i know, i..”

“you said you’d be home for six.”

“i know baby, i’m so sorry, we had an emergency shareholders meeting and it was just..fuck.”

“it’s always an emergency.” you muttered bitterly.

the silence that followed felt suffocating to you both.

he carefully placed his things at the door before approaching you slowly, as though you were a wounded fawn struck by an arrow from his own back - it was his fault. he knew that, he could see it.

“i’m trying.” he whispered softly, as he crouched to meet your eyes.

that was the worst thing of all - of course he was trying. you knew he was, you could see it in every single thing he did but that was the part that made it so much more painful. it was unbearable.

tears burned harshly behind your eyes, lip openly trembling as you stared at the only man to have ever felt your affection, the love of your life. the same man that would set himself on fire just to keep you warm, who had done this all for you - even you knew that but, the pain. you weren’t sure when loving him had started to hurt this badly.

“i don’t need..i don’t want any of this, jungkook.” you corrected as your voice cracked, hands gesturing to the too large room. “don’t care about penthouses or cars, or money..”

“it’s not about that.”

“then what is it about?” you cried, months and months of neglect finally collapsing all at once. “because i’m losing you anyway.”

the devastation that appeared on his face would have floored you on any other occasion, but the horrible feeling that had taken over was consuming you from the inside out. you couldn’t rid yourself of your thoughts, the looming decision that had grown and grown and grown, so much so that it felt bigger than you in both mind and body. you couldn’t stop the tears even if you wanted to.

“i feel so lonely.” you admitted honestly, a broken sob leaving your lips. “you’re all i have..all i’ve ever had and i feel lonely.”

the words physically wounded him as he felt his own tears begin to form, a horrible realisation fluttering through his body - this wasn’t fixable. he could see it now, the utter pain in your eyes, the way your body shook as you cried, and though he was crouched in front of you, arms wrapping around you; it wasn’t enough.

“i’ll fix this. i’ll fix this, fuck. y/n..” he shook, holding you so tightly, his heart beating out of his chest. “give me time. give me a chance. give me something, give me anything.”

you only cried harder at his words, collapsing entirely as the sobs racked through your body violently. you knew he meant it, knew he meant every single word, and you genuinely believed it too but you were tired.

so, so tired.

you knew that the love between you, no matter how deep, could not survive on patched up apologies and promises no longer.

the separation happened three weeks later.

perhaps that was too cruel of you - you should have given him more time, more chances, another opportunity to prove himself to you so he could actually begin repairing something that had already long collapsed before he had ever realised the damage. staying felt too painful, as though you were prodding delicate skin with a million sharpened blades. for once in your entire existence, you chose yourself.

you hated yourself for it.

you could no longer survive off of the memories of who your husband had once been, the once sweet teenage boy who slept on the streets with you just so you’d feel safe from the grasps of your parents. the man who had ran home to tell you about his promotion, who then sobbed in your arms at the mere prospect of getting to give you the life you deserved. oh, how each and every fibre of your being yearned for him, how it knew him by breath alone and yet it wasn’t enough. nothing could possibly hurt more.

packing your things nearly killed him. you remembered it vividly.

jungkook stood silently in the doorway of your shared bedroom, watching numbly, as though his soul had left his entire body as you packed up remnants of a life once shared with him. cardboard boxes were filled with your books, your makeup, your silly trinkets you had acquired together - the sight of you crying as you packed your wedding album so delicately was enough to have him bite back his own sob, shaking his head at the reality of the situation.

he hadn’t stopped you. it was the worst part.

jungkook was intimidating to most; hardened by his life experiences and the struggle he had been raised in, his only priority for the past decade being you. you didn’t like to go into his work, knowing he was quite literally a different person there - efficient, yes, but also ruthless. and yet, he stood, watching you as though his eyes couldn’t comprehend the scene in front of him, tears wiped harshly from his face in fear that it would only upset you more.

even in moments like this, he put you first.

his hands sat caged on either side of him, as you sobbed, and sobbed and sobbed. he wanted nothing more than to pick you up, cradle you, cherish you the way he so desperately wanted but in his love for you came your happiness. he was a man devoted to you, and he couldn’t cage you somewhere you no longer felt happy staying - he loved you too much to ever do that.

the divorce proceedings were somehow so much worse.

the media frenzy surrounding jeon jungkook, the elusive ceo who was known for his mysterious persona and dark eyes, was quite literally unbearable. the sudden separation exploded all over the tabloids and the internet, with headlines appearing faster than either of you could keep up with. the hate was too much, to which jungkook stepped in to silence everyone behind the scenes, throwing an insane amount of money at journalists to keep your name out of their filthy mouths. wife or not, you were one half of him and he’d be damned if you were spoken of in anyway that wasn’t praiseworthy.

you couldn’t even look at him during the hearings.

god, you tried. you wanted to, managing to sneak little glances where you caught him already staring at you, despair all over his face, but you couldn’t handle it, tears streaming out of your eyes almost immediately. he knew you loved him. he could see it, clear as day.

he looked sick, as though he hadn’t eaten for weeks, the mere sight of you enough to sustain him until the next meeting, where your feet lightly brushed against one another underneath the table in a subconscious way.

he barely spoke, only choosing to actually speak when he was asked a question, but other than that, he spent his time in the meetings staring at you longingly. he’d whisper a soft “don’t cry” whenever he’d see you tear up, your lip quivering each time you snuck a glance over, despite knowing it was breaking you.

he signed everything over to you immediately. his lawyers had practically choked, eyes wide as he silenced them almost harshly for even suggesting anything otherwise, your own eyebrows pulling together as you tried to reject. you didn’t want his money, you didn’t want what he had worked so hard for.

the penthouse, the cars, the accounts. every. fucking. thing.

“jungkook..” you had whispered through tears at the table, addressing him for the first time in so long. “i don’t want any of this, it’s yours. you’ve worked so hard.”

hearing you was enough to provide the energy he had been lacking, the very blood in his bloodstream pumping harder as he shook his head at you, offended.

“i got those things for you. it never belonged to me..was always yours.” he whispered back, causing you to look down with another choked sob.

it was the final hearing that truly cemented the empty hole inside of you.

your hands shook violently, so much so that you were unable to pick up your pen and sign away your marriage, the one thing you needed to do to finally let him go. everyone in the room frowned as they watched you, face flooded with tears as your digits simply refused, as though your body rejected the notion as being entirely unnatural. they all felt pity for you, for both of you - you both were clearly in love, and they couldn’t understand the gravity of the situation between you.

jungkook had stood from his side of the table, walking over to you until his hand had softly encapsulated your own, your quiet sobs only growing harsher at the feel of the one person you had been craving for so long. he held it, guiding you to your own, helping you write your name on the dotted line despite every part of his body aching.

ex-husband.

the thought should have killed you.

once it was signed, he held onto your hand, too scared to let go as the documents were taken, your lawyers and his slowly leaving the room, leaving you be. you should have let go, should have pushed him away as he no longer had any tie to you - you weren’t married, you weren’t together. alas, the thought felt sacrilegious.

instead, he knelt, knees hitting the hardened floor below you as your red eyes met his properly. entirely.

“i’ll fix this.” he promised you, voice no longer shaking, as you could hear the depth of his promise to you. “i don’t care how long it takes, baby, but you’ll come back to me. i’ll come back to you better, i’ll be worthy. i promise you, y/n.” he whispered.

another sob climbed up your throat, mean and harsh, as your body collapsed against the chair you were sat in, your emotion taking a complete hold over you.

because even then, after everything, you knew his words to be true. you knew home would be waiting.

—

eight months had passed now, and soon came the first touch of summer. the bleak sky had become brighter, clouds hibernating and birds chirping as the world became warmer, accommodating for the transition into what most would describe as a joyous time. unfortunately for you, your body was still recovering from what could only be described as the most traumatic stage of your life thus far.

everything felt unnatural and wrong - you were trying to keep up despite it moving a million miles around you.

even after all this time, your stomach still dropped whenever you’d see anything that referred to him as your ex husband, as though your mind and heart needed a moment to catch up. how could jungkook ever simply become an ex anything to you?

he had existed in your life for so long that removing him felt akin to ripping a vital organ out of your body, all whilst expected to function entirely normally. how could you? you suppose you were failing, really, with the way you moved through life out of necessity instead of want.

the tabloids loved him now more than ever. it was the paradox of tragedy, you assumed, as you knew how badly the world yearned for a broken hearted lover.

the youngest ceo in the country’s history, a billionaire bachelor - the elusive businessman was on the top of every social hierarchy, whilst people spoke about you in hushed whispers. the only woman to have ever gotten away. who were you? why did you leave? why did he leave you with so much?

he had become so much colder after the divorce, and people picked up on it like rats with forgotten food.

the media had always labelled him as an intimidating man, but now, there was no way of denying it. there was something unsettling about the pictures that were being papped of him, your hungry eyes taking him in top to bottom, nibbling your lip - he looked so different. broad shoulders remained the same, but he seemed bigger, no doubt taking out his pain in the gym. it was the look in his eyes, however, that had your stomach in knots.

he looked dead whilst alive.

jeon jungkook was heartbroken, and the world knew it clear as day.

he had dealt with it the only way he knew how - by burying himself six feet deep into his work, knowing he had nothing to come home to, often times sleeping in his office just so he could ignore the silence of his house.

meanwhile, you had spent the last eight months trying to learn how to exist without him.

the humiliation at first was all you were reminded of, as you realised how deeply you had intertwined into him and vice versa. the silence in your once shared penthouse was so unbearable that you had moved into a tiny two bedroom apartment, using the spare as a storage unit for all of your books. on your nightstand still sat a picture of you both, as you secretly cried over it most nights. you couldn’t even sleep unless you wore one of his hoodies, despite his scent having washed off months ago - it was the comfort of knowing you still had a part of your marriage with you.

you missed him in every small, stupid, awful way imaginable.

the feeling of his hand, heavy and strong, on your thigh as he drove you around. the way he would cage you into any surface he could find just to smother you in kisses, or even the way he would whisper into your ear stupid jokes that had you giggling too loudly for the world to hear.

you missed your husband. you missed jungkook.

everyday you battled with the regret of your choice, especially once you’d see the way his under-eyes had sunken with the lack of sleep and yet you couldn’t bring yourself to admit it out loud. you couldn’t live that way again, not with the neglect - not with your past trauma from your parents.

jungkook knew the gravity of his actions, knew you needed to heal and reason with them before he could come back to you but fuck, it hurt so bad to wait.

sometimes, during your weaker moments, you found yourself searching him into your phone in the dead of night, breathing out an audible sigh of relief at the confirmation he was still openly single. it was pathetic, that much you knew, but it was selfish beyond anything else. so cruel to want the man you left to be alone, simply because he still belonged to you.

you had attempted to rebuild your life slowly, carefully piecing together fragments of yourself that existed before all of this had happened. your days were quieter now, so much lonelier but it was enough to keep your mind from spiralling every second of every waking day.

some habits, however, refused to die.

his contact remained as the only favourited number in your phone, as you spent all of your time rereading old messages, despite it ending in tears. if only you knew he too did the same, with his photo album on his phone his most used app as he stared at you nightly, often falling asleep with your picture shining brightly on his screen.

you still loved him. he loved you even more.

that could never change.

-

the first flowers came on a random tuesday.

you had just experienced one of the worst days you’d had in a while, with a final meeting with one of your clients going to shit after you realised hours of work and designs had somehow corrupted, and then deleted. by the time you had returned home, you were sure the world had seen your teary state, your body heavier than usual.

as you searched your bag for your keys, your eyes peered up, noticing them.

your breath caught.

sitting neatly outside your apartment door. a bouquet, large but elegant - white gardenias. the flowers you had held at not only your wedding, but the ones jungkook would buy you for your anniversary each year.

your flowers.

your chest ached so violently you found yourself gasping for air as your legs gave out below you. you slid down the wall, fingers brushing against the delicate petals as you looked for a note, only to realise there wasn’t one. you didn’t need to see who they were from, only one person knew you well enough and your heart felt like it had been split into two as you took them in.

it wasn’t your anniversary, wasn’t any special kind of occasion, and yet here they were. bright, promising, sweet.

your vision blurred with heavy tears as the painful feeling in your body grew, throat tightening with emotion before reaching out and taking a hold of them, breathing the flowers in openly.

the scent alone was enough to destroy you.

he was everywhere, all of the time - even now. especially now.

the flowers had become a norm, a pattern that was only recognisable to you, and completely deniable to any other person looking in. you were smarter than you looked and you knew what was happening, and yet you couldn’t bring yourself to call it out.

your favourite restaurant somehow managing to accommodate you always despite the line or packed out reservations list, or the paparazzi that often bullied you for your attention outside of your home mysteriously disappearing. even your car, that you had dented slightly, appeared in perfect condition as you walked down to go to work one morning, your eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

your chest bloomed with realisation.

jungkook.

he never appeared himself, no. never. it was unsettling really, the reminder that he was powerful and could have things done with a flick of his wrist - he was sure to never make you privy to it, so you’d always feel like he was the same boy you had met all those years ago. now? he had every intention of showing you the empire he had built for you and you alone. he lingered around you and your life like a floating ghost, invisible but permanent. you truly couldn’t get rid of him even if you tried.

three weeks later is when you felt yourself reaching breaking point.

for the first time in months, you were finally leaving the house to actually do something for fun. your best friend, yejin, who’s husband yoongi was ironically jungkook’s best friend, had forced you to come out for a drink. nothing intense, merely a nice bar where the drinks were smooth and the company was good, with slow jazz playing in the back.

exhaustion was heavy in your bones but you listened, doing your best to make yourself look nice despite how dead you felt inside. a little skirt that felt too short and a top that perhaps plunged too low - yejin had deemed you utterly perfect.

sat at the bar, you sipped your drink, wincing lightly as she yapped away about something her coworker had said. you appreciated how she refused to bring jungkook up, knowing that she couldn’t breach the topic unless you were the one to bring it up yourself. you hated how badly you wanted to, how desperate you were to find out how he was doing.

she filled the air constantly, like she was terrified of what would happen if your mind caught up to the reality of the situation, instead filling it with nonsense to occupy your demanding thoughts.

you let her.

you even found yourself laughing, the feeling and sound so startling that it reduced you to silence for a full minute afterwards as you welcomed the feeling of actual joy for the first time in so long.

you almost didn’t notice the shift in your phone, the slight light radiating from beneath as you had turned it onto its screen earlier in the evening. she, however, paused mid sentence, eyes dropping down to let you know someone was ringing.

nothing could have prepared you for the sight of his name on the screen.

the name, ‘kookie’ with a large, red heart adorned your phone as humiliation rummaged through you at the realisation you had never even bothered to change his name, the concept too painful to come to terms with. however, yejin all but gasped as she turned to you, eyes widened with an almost excitement.

“answer it.” she encouraged, hand on your back. “i’ll watch your drink.”

you weren’t sure what to say, as you nodded, staring down at the screen before shakily sliding off of your seat and heading towards the back entrance, where a smokers area sat empty. your hands shook as you cupped the phone to your chest, taking a seat before looking down at it once more.

he was calling you.

jungkook was fucking calling you.

before you could overthink, you swiped, answering it.

the phone felt hot against your ear, a reminder of what was currently happening as your heart began beating harder than it had in months, your hands shaking. for a second, neither of you spoke.

you could hear faint movement on his end, a shuffling of some sorts before he completely stilled, as though he had pushed everything he was doing to a side at the realisation you had actually answered.

“hi.”

god. your eyes squeezed shut tight almost immediately.

there he was - your jungkook. not the ceo extraordinaire that was plastered on every publication you could find, with dead eyes and a sharp expression. no, this was him. jungkook. your jungkook.

the sound alone nearly brought you to tears. you felt so pathetic.

“hi.” you whispered back, voice cracking.

silence settled again, but not awkwardly. you didn’t think an awkward silence was capable of existing between you, not when your bodies were so intertwined and so aware of one another. the distance between you was unnatural, neither of your minds able to comprehend an eight month hiatus enough to understand that this phone call alone shouldn’t have been happening.

he exhaled slowly, and your shoulders gently relaxed, your eyes closing momentarily as you imagined him. no doubt still at work, in a suit unbuttoned at the shirt, his tie long forgotten. his tattooed hand running through his hair, ruffling it the way you always would.

“you answered.” he broke you out of your thoughts.

your chest tightened painfully at the sheer disbelief in his tone.

“you called.”

a faint huff of amusement left him then, causing you to blink back any emotion that was building in your eyes. it eased you.

“yeah.” he breathed out.

another pause.

you felt so suddenly aware of yourself - your hand reached out to smooth down your hair, adjust your top and skirt, despite knowing he couldn’t see you. it was subconscious, as though the thought of him alone was enough to undo you, but his voice? hearing it after so long, directed at you, for you. yours. it was enough to have you soothed for months.

before you could spiral in your thoughts, he spoke again.

“where are you?”

“out with yejin.”

“mm.” you shivered at his hum. you had no idea he was so undone at the sound of you too. “a bar?”

“yeah.”

“you drinking?”

you rolled your eyes, tongue poking your cheek at his curiosity. some things truly had never changed.

“why?” you asked, and you could almost hear his grin on the other end. “can’t i ask?”

his tone, smooth. familiar. fuck, it did things to you, and you could feel your thighs pressing together just listening to him. secretly, your favourite part of jungkook was how possessive he had always been, and even in moments like this where he hid it under a layer of calmness, you could recognise it instantly.

it reminded you of when he’d ask you whether you had eaten, just before pulling you into his lap, lips attacking the side of your neck hungrily or when he’d tell you to take your medicine, with a slow ‘baby’ and kisses planted to your forehead and cheeks.

“one drink.” you revealed, with a nibble to your lip.

you had no idea that he too was a fucking mess.

jungkook was indeed in his office, with his legs spread, suit jacket and tie somewhere, his shirt unbuttoned a little as he too drank. a cup of whiskey in his hand, his hair a mess as he scoured over your instagram for the millionth time just that day. neither of you were ones to post much, especially considering your accounts were private with only a few people, but he stalked you daily in hopes of a glimpse of you. could you blame him? he was utterly, devotedly in love with you.

a measly divorce couldn’t stop that.

seeing yejin’s story, with your low cut top, and your big eyes showing a sign of life for the first time in months made his heart bloom. it had his cock straining, again, just looking at you, eyes hungrily looking over every inch of you and your soft smile. god, how he had missed it.

he had given you your time. respected your wishes, allowed you eight months of this but enough was enough. the flowers were just the beginning, marking his space back in your life through a promise he had every intention of upholding. he had told you directly he was going to fix this, and you, his sweet, sweet girl had believed him.

he would never let you down again.

“you having fun?”

“why do you wanna know every single detail?” you asked, tone a little harsher than intended but you couldn’t help yourself. this was an ambush on your senses.

he huffed once more, the amusement enough to disarm you.

“because i miss you.”

the words left him so easily that the breath in your lungs completely dissipated, leaving you a statued mess. no hesitation, no shame - pure, devastating honesty.

“you can’t say that, jungkook.” you weakly combatted, the intake of breath on his side of the phone at the sound of his name leaving your mouth enough of an answer for you.

“why not? i can’t miss my wife?” he scoffed lightly at you.

you blubbered for a moment. “i-i am not..i’m not your wife!”

“okay.” he hummed once more.

there was a quiet clink on his end, no doubt picking his drink up and taking a big gulp after abandoning it the second you answered. neither of you spoke for a few more moments, silence now becoming a running theme between you on the call, and yet it was still void of the awkwardness you’d find anywhere else. it was awful how familiar it felt. how comfortable and safe.

your fingers played with the hem of your skirt nervously, unsure if you had been too brash - he was hurting too after all.

“is that top new?”

your breath caught.

“..what?”

jungkook stayed quiet for an extra beat. “your top. haven’t seen that one before.”

heat flooded your cheeks, chest and neck before you could even respond, your lips bitten down as you inhaled shakily.

“how do you know that?” you were ignoring the way your pulse was hammering against your body, trying to feign an air of nonchalance.

at that, he couldn’t help the small grin. “saw you on yejin’s story.” he murmured, quieter now. “look so good. love when you wear pink, baby.”

it wasn’t even the words he had chosen, but more so the way he was saying them. so calm, so certain, so casual as if he wasn’t calling his ex wife baby over a bit of cleavage that was never really meant for his eyes - your blush spreading all over you now.

“jungkook..” you breathed out, shakily.

“what?” he asked innocently, and you could really hear the smile in his voice now. “am i wrong?”

you looked down at your top, nibbling away at your lip to hide the small smile that was beginning to form on your own face, something that you hadn’t felt in a long, long time. your fingers brushed against your stomach, feeling the fabric before tucking a strand behind your hair.

“it’s new.” you admitted softly, heels shuffling slightly on the ground.

the sound he made in response was enough to ruin you. not a laugh, not quite a sigh - something pleased.

he hummed. “so pretty.”

your eyes squeezed shut, and jungkook could feel it. could see it as though you were right in front of him. you were never one to handle a compliment, always going pink and shyly looking away and god, he loved it so much. loved complimenting you in hopes that you would react just like that, just to see you get all flustered.

the feeling in your stomach..it felt so strange. the same one that had haunted you for the past eight months, an unbearable warmth that filled you from your toes to your head, something you craved so desperately from him and him alone. to be noticed, looked at, admired by jungkook was one thing but to be loved by him? it was joy in itself.

you could feel it.

no one had ever loved you quite like he had done, as though every single thing you were capable of was worthy of applause. it terrified you.

“you can’t do this.” your voice came out so much smaller than either of you had expected, changing the entire feel of the call instantly.

as a result, his own tone softened, as though he was dealing with something porcelain.

“do what, baby?”

your heart physically ached.

“talk to me..like nothing happened.”

you felt sick to your stomach, hands gripping your phone and stomach as your eyes shut tight. you wished you hadn’t of said anything, not with the way the silence kissed the air in a way that felt anything but familiar - it hurt. painful in every single way.

for the first time since answering the phone, you could see jungkook properly. could hear him breathing sharply as though your words were both a reminder and an understanding that no matter what, things could never go back to what they once were.

the slight twitch in his cheek, the way his fingers would naturally tighten whenever he was overwhelmed with emotion like he didn’t know where to put it, where to place it in his overworking mind. he had always loved so deeply, your jungkook; just didn’t know where to put it, or how to show it.

when he finally spoke again, his voice was quieter. stripped bare for you, so you could feel him.

“i know what i did.” he admitted softly. “i know i fucked up, and that i failed you as a husband.”

your throat tightened.

outside, rainwater still lingered from earlier, a sickly humidity wrapped into every air particle around you. the scent of lingering cigarette smoke was heavy enough to ground you in that moment as you listened to jungkook speak words neither of you could truly handle hearing, despite how necessary they were. it just hurt so, so badly.

inside the bar, you could hear muffled laughter, people egging one another on for drinks as jazz boomed, your heart easing as you could hear yejin’s voice amongst the crowd, no doubt the life of the party there too.

“then why are you acting like this?” you pathetically asked, lip jutting out in a teary pout. he could almost hear it on you. “you’re talking to me like we’re still together.”

“you’re still mine, y/n.”

your breath hitched violently.

“jungkook-“

“no,” he remained calm, a stark difference between you and him. “you asked me a question, baby, so let me answer it properly.”

the nickname rolled off of his lips so naturally, instinctively, and you hated how easily your body curled closer, almost desperate to hear it whilst he stood in front of you. you had always been putty in his hands, so easily undone with a few pretty words but you’d held back for the past few months for the sake of your boundaries. hearing him so open, so honest - it was fucking you up all over again.

“i know we’re divorced,” he continued before you could interrupt him again. “i know..you’re not my wife anymore, and i know this is my fault. you left because of me and i’ll live with that for the rest of my life.”

his voice cracked by the end of his statement.

“but i won’t sit here and pretend like the last eight months have suddenly erased the past fifteen years of loving you.”

the words shattered you. your delicate, pathetic heart broke once more at his words at the confirmation of what you needed to hear so, so badly.

years of abandonment issues stemming from your parents and friends who had only ever toyed with you meant you had put your all into jungkook, who had only ever put every inch of himself back in - you were a partnership, a welcome duo that made sense to the both of you. watching him pull back, forget you, neglect and abandon your relationship no matter the reason was enough to trigger you in ways that no one could reason with.

it was an intimate form of violence that though was never intended, hurt more than anything he could have ever done to you.

he knew that. he was openly telling you he recognised his faults, his wrong doings - you knew that too. god, you knew him better than anyone alive, and you knew that by leaving him it was the only way for him to understand and see.

“you’re making this so much harder, jungkook.” you whispered out through a flood of tears, your mascara and eyeliner smudging immediately under the slaughter of liquid.

“i’m sorry. i’m so, so sorry baby but i need you to hear me, okay? just..i need you to know i’m going to fix this. properly.” he breathed out, desperate now. “i’ve been doing things right this time..gave you space, let you breathe, been working on myself and going to therapy. don’t sleep at the office anymore, did at the start cause i didn’t like coming home but i’m better now.”

therapy?

you knew he held so much trauma with his own parents, his own upbringing, too scared to ever even speak about it if it wasn’t with you but to hear he had actually taken the steps to go forwards with something that put him directly out of his comfort zone was insanity to you. especially when his one and only concern had only ever been your own comfort, even at his expense.

his honesty made you burst out into quiet sobs - a noise he swore was harsh enough to kill him. he breathed out, cooing at you lightly as he shook his head despite you unable to see him, so pained.

jungkook recognised your pain immediately.

“yeah,” he muttered. “turns out working yourself to death because you’re afraid of losing everything after you’ve had a shitty upbringing actually isn’t normal behaviour. who knew?”

despite your heartbroken state, you let out a sincere watery laugh.

the sound hit him like a drug.

he went completely silent after hearing it, replaying it in the forefront of his mind. a greedy, gluttonous side of him climbing out of his very throat as he held it close to his soul, cherishing it - he was a starved man finally being fed.

“there she is.” he breathed. “fuck..missed hearing your laugh.”

you hated how easily you were able to slip back into him.

“jungkook..”

“i mean it,” his tone deepened slightly - more certain, more intentional. “i’m not calling you tonight to confuse you, y/n. i’m not calling because i’m lonely..”

your fingers tightened around the phone once more. “then, why?”

“because i’m getting you back.”

there was no hesitation in his voice, no wariness nor anything other than sheer determination. he sounded firm and a part of that thrilled you, whilst the other half sat scared of what this meant - you couldn’t survive this again, losing him. what if you had changed? what if you weren’t who he thought you were anymore?

“hey, stop it.” he shook his head, eyebrows furrowing. “it’s just me, y/n. it’s just me and you, okay?”

“but what if we can’t do it?” you asked through a teary sob, scuffing your heels on the hard ground. “what if i’m different and what if it’s too hard? i can’t..i won’t survive it..”

silence once more.

“then, we do it slowly.” he whispered, assured, soothing you. no hesitation whatsoever. “i’m not asking you to trust me overnight, baby. i know i fucked that up already.”

your lip trembled, tears streaming so fast you could hardly keep up.

“but i’m here now.”

the words settled so deeply inside of you that it almost hurt. that was all you had wanted all along, was it not? a present husband, the same man that loved you without the frills of money and presents - you wanted jungkook. your jungkook.

you swallowed thickly, knowing it had taken so much of him to even say this to you, so confident as he knew you needed a rock at this moment despite also being emotionally devastated.

two whole minutes of silence stretched between you as you caught your breath, your tears still streaming but your sobs subsiding, allowing for sweet hiccups that he thought were the cutest thing he had ever heard. his mind swam, aching, knowing how needy you were after a cry. he wanted to bundle you up and hold you, kiss you until there were no more thoughts left in that pretty little head of yours, right until you were finally asleep and safe in his arms.

“are you still at work?” you asked softly, breaking the silence and pulling him out of his thoughts.

a small pause.

then, almost amused - “technically..”

“jungkook! it’s late..”

he laughed quietly under his breath, the sound warm enough to blanket you in it.

“finished hours ago, i’ve just been sat here.”

“doing what?”

another pause. slightly charged.

“looking at you.” he murmured.

heat rushed to your face immediately, wiping your under eyes. “what?”

“been stalking your instagram. yejin posted you like half an hour ago too, so..” his voice dropped lower, smoother. more intimate. “haven’t really thought about doing anything since.”

your thighs pushed together involuntarily at the confession, cheeks hinted even darker.

god.

“jungkook.” you chastised with a little sniffle.

“pink was a bad choice, baby.” he grunted slightly. “you know that colour drives me fucking insane on you.”

your eyes squeezed shut. there he was.

not the cold, mysterious ceo that had the world intrigued, nor the tall, hefty man that had most people cowering away as he walked past. no, this was your husband - flirty, affectionate and completely and utterly obsessed with you.

“you’re so ridiculous.” you shook your head through a hiccup, biting back the pathetic small smile that was about to form.

“yeah?” he hummed through a small laugh. “still answered the phone.”

the smile in his voice only had yours growing larger, a small laugh muffled by the back of your hand.

you could hear him moving around now, keys jingling lightly before the sound of a car door opening had your ears peaking up.

“wait,” your eyebrows raised. “are you leaving?”

“mhm.”

“where are you going?”

jungkook grinned. it was your turn to be curious.

“home.”

your smile dropped slightly. home.. that used to be a word that was synonymous with you. your chest ached all over again.

“couldn’t go back there without hearing your voice first.” he admitted quietly.

silence swallowed you whole. the vulnerability in his voice felt far more dangerous than any of the tears you had shed tonight, your fingers continuing to shake around the phone at the mere sound of it. before you could think of a response, he spoke again.

“there’s a gala next friday.”

your stomach tightened as you leaned your head against the wall, already understanding the direction of the conversation.

“jungkook..”

“come with me.”

no hesitation. no uncertainty.

firm, assured, confident. like there had never even been another concept, or thought in his brain - you were the first and only option.

“i don’t think that’s a good idea..”

“probably not.”

the honesty startled a laugh out of you - a real one. on the other side of the phone, jungkook sat in his car, eyes closed, breathing deeply at the sweet sound like he was memorising it. treasuring it so he could replay it over and over and over later when he laid in your once shared bed alone.

“fuck,” he breathed. “you have no idea how much i’ve missed that.”

your eyes burned once more.

“baby,” his tone gentled again, using the pet name you loved so much. “just one night. me and you.”

you wanted to scream, wanted to pull at your hair and jump all at the same time. of course you wanted to say yes, what more could you need? your ex husband so openly telling you he wanted to pursue you with every inch of his body, until he was nothing but yours to mould and shape.

“i’ll think about it.” you replied instead, nibbling away at your lip.

the grin in his voice was immediate.

“that’s my girl.”

—

you couldn’t breathe.

both physically and emotionally, you found difficulty in inhaling air as you looked at yourself in the mirror, yejin somewhere in the room finding accessories for you to wear all whilst you blinked rapidly.

the dress, although beautiful, felt too tight.

your hands shook on either side of you as she approached you, holding up a delicate diamond necklace you recognised as an anniversary gift jungkook had gotten you but never quite found the chance to wear. your eyes were unfocused as she clasped it onto your neck, watching the way it fell so softly against soft skin, as though it had been curated for you and you alone.

“you need to breathe, y/n.” she suddenly murmured behind you, resting her chin on your shoulder as you both stared at you in the mirror.

pale pink satin - not bright in anyway, but a sweet kiss of your favourite colour adorned your body in floor length, tight fitting dress. you were the embodiment of elegance as the fabric draped over your curves, all whilst cinching perfectly at your waist, allowing for a pretty silhouette. not only did you look the part for a charity gala, you had exceeded any expectation anyone would ever have for you thanks to your best friend’s styling.

“dress is tight.” you simply whispered back, hardly recognising yourself.

your makeup matched your dress. glowy and pink with soft blush dusted onto your cheeks, glossy lips puckered and sweet. your hair fell in waves and for the first time in a very long time, you felt utterly beautiful.

the problem, however, was in the circumstance itself.

you were about to see jungkook for the first time since you had officially walked away from your marriage and the thought had kept you up all week. you weren’t sure what you were thinking actually saying yes to his invitation, calling him to tell you would come only for him to audibly huff out of joy. he was like a child in a candy shop but you couldn’t help but wonder if he harboured the same anxiety.

it was heavy in your stomach as you stared at yourself. pink was your favourite colour, and he loved it on you. did you look pretty enough? all eyes would be on you both tonight, given the nature of your relationship and the almost celebrity like status that had been awarded to the two of you.

all in all, it was his face that had you nibbling your bottom lip in thought. there wasn’t a night where you left his name unsearched in your internet browser, desperate to see what he looked like in that current moment but seeing him in purpose was a whole different playing field.

you loved him in suits - a fitting joy that was awarded to you constantly given his occupation. the way his shoulders would fill out the material so nicely, the way his shirt would stretch over his chest and the way darker colours only brought out the darkness in his eyes - it was your personal kryptonite. you weren’t sure how you were supposed to think, behave even, once you caught got sight of him.

“hey, y/n, look at me.” yejin pulled you out of your thoughts, soft hands pulling at your jaw. “it’s just jungkook. you know him better than anyone, okay? you’re all good.”

you nodded, though you continued to blink at her rapidly. “s’just been so long and..i don’t know..i’m scared. is that weird?”

she offered a sad smile. “it’s been eight months of healing, babe. that love doesn’t just go away and from what you told me, this is a step in the right direction. just gotta let him in.”

before you could respond, the sound of the doorbell blared through the apartment, making you look up to where the door sat on the other side. if you thought your heart had been beating fast before, you were sure you were on the edge of passing out now as yejin mumbled a quick ‘that’ll be him’ beside you.

oh god. oh god. oh god.

the dress felt too tight around your ribs.

your hands smoothed down the satin again despite having done it what felt like a million times already, fingers tips trembling over expensive fabric as your breathing came out shallow. you hated this - hated the fear of it all when it was jungkook on the other side of the door. your jungkook.

eight months. eight whole months and your body still knew him better than your mind was ready to let on.

“y/n.” yejin practically cooed at you, assuring you with a hand on your back. “breathe.”

you nodded quickly, though it went in one ear and out the other.

the intercom buzzed again, impatient time.

ironically, it was this that had your shoulders slumping softly, your shortness of breath slowly soothing as you realised the familiarity of the situation. of course jungkook would buzz twice - it was a telltale sign of his own anxiety, something you could recognise from a mile away. knocking twice, calling your name twice, checking the front door before bed twice.

it was just jungkook.

“okay.” you whispered to yourself.

you turned, more determined now you knew he was in the same state as you, as your heels clicked on the floor of your much smaller apartment, the noise loud enough for him to hear from the outside. each step felt heavier the closer you got, but there sat an anticipation in you that had you almost desperate to see him.

your hand finally wrapped around the handle before you opened the door.

and there he was.

god.

for a moment, your brain completely malfunctioned.

jungkook stood in your hallway beneath the almost dingy apartment lighting, one hand wrapped around a large bouquet of flowers you recognised to be the ones he had been gifting you with continuously for the past few weeks, and every anniversary. white gardenias.

your eyes fell onto them immediately with a strangled gasp, all whilst taking him in, your heart beating out of your chest as you felt almost faint at the sight of him.

a black suit.

the material stretched perfectly across his too broad shoulders and narrow waist, expensive to the eye as you could tell it had been tailored to fit him exactly. the contrast between the white shirt underneath was utterly delicious, and memories of pulling open buttons under heated exchanges flooded your eyes.

his hair was styled almost messily which you immediately recognised as his hands having ran through them, no doubt due to his anxiety - you wanted to pull at his locks, wanted to feel them against your fingers.

it was his face, however, that hurt to look at.

he looked healthier than most of the pictures you had seen over the span of the past few months, with warm in his cheeks, a slight dazed look in his eyes. still tired, with purple underneath his eyes indicating his lack of sleep, still carrying traces of heartbreak you knew you had placed there.

god.

jungkook looked every bit of the man you were in love with.

and here he stood, staring at you like he had just seen heaven open up right in front of him.

neither of you could look away from one another, as his eyes dragged over you slowly, inch by inch. your hair, your neckline that dipped lower than he was used to seeing, your manicure, your beautiful face. jungkook couldn’t fathom that you had once belonged to him, the pain of the past eight months surfacing as it gripped him by the throat like a vice - he had lost you?

you watched his throat bob.

his eyes met yours, the first time in what felt like a lifetime, and neither of you really knew what to do. how was it that the man you had known most of your life, the one constant, felt like a stranger in that moment? it was like you were discovering him again, an opportunity to relearn him presented to you and you took it with both hands.

he let out a shaking breath, one that had your cheeks flushing as he extended his arm, presenting the large bouquet for you.

“you look beautiful.” he whispered, voice struggling almost as you continued to watch his adam’s apple almost entranced.

with a shy thank you, you held them close to your chest, breathing in the familiar scent that brought you so much comfort.

your chest had eased now you were finally looking at him, now that he was actually in your space - the worst was over. you almost felt ridiculous for being worried about seeing him when it was just jungkook. eight months couldn’t erase that familiarity.

the hallway suddenly felt too small. too warm, too intimate; you felt like you were being caved in by his mere presence and for a moment you wondered if you needed breath at all.

you simply stood there, clutching the flowers delicately to your chest as though they meant something so much more than what anyone else could assume all whilst jungkook looked at you like you were the first beautiful thing he had seen in months.

his eyes couldn’t leave your face.

it should have made you uncomfortable, the intensity of his stare, but your body reacted the way it had always done when you were near him. you were inching closer without even realising it, him doing the same until you were looking up, head angled and his downwards, head bent to admire you properly.

“hi.” you whispered again.

the size difference between you had never been more apparent until then, what with all of his strenuous visits to the gym these past few months. he had always towered over you, but it was different now - his already wide chest and broad shoulders engulfed you, his biceps on either side of him enough to have you wanting him in a way that certainly was not becoming of an ex wife.

it’s like he could read your thoughts, with the way he inched closer to you, until your bodies were openly brushing against each other faintly. material on material, fabric kissing fabric. you wished you could feel him on your skin.

the sound of your voice had lulled him gently as he dipped his head down lower so you could properly see him, despite your head back to look at him.

“hi, baby.”

your stomach flipped violently.

there it was again. baby. fuck.

as though the divorce papers were fickle, representing a momentary lapse of judgement instead of a ruling decision. like he still woke up beside you every morning and ruined your cheeks with kisses before falling in between your thighs.

the dazed look on your face didn’t go unnoticed.

before you could even respond, yejin appeared behind you with the biggest smile she could possibly muster.

“oh my god,” she squeaked dramatically. “you both look insane!”

jungkook blinked, momentarily pulled from the emotional spiral you were both taking part in as he straightened slightly, despite still being awfully close to you. your cheeks heated at the sound of her voice, jumping a little in shock, causing you to brush against him faintly.

“hi, yejin.”

“don’t hi yejin me.” she narrowed her eyes dangerously. “if she cries tonight, i’ll kill you.”

“yejin!” you flushed red.

jungkook, however, allowed for a soft smile, nodding once. “fair.”

the sheer sincerity of it made the room go quiet, your eyes meeting his once more. you knew though it was a passing comment, he truly meant it - he’d let her kill him if it meant you’d hurt less.

your chest tightened all over again.

yejin seemed to realise it too, her teasing expression softening at the both of you. idiots in love, both too cautious to know what the correct next step was - thank god she loved to meddle.

“okay! you’re both gonna be late so hurry up.” she hummed, turning you and looking over you for any last minute touch ups. “i’ll take these. i’ll show myself out.”

with a cheeky wink, she all but pushed you backwards towards jungkook where your back gently brushed against his front. she had taken the flowers, shoved your clutch in your hand and shut the door in your face, all after giving you a big grin.

he didn’t move from behind you, despite you turning to properly face him. the two of you stared at one another openly, eyebrows pulling together - you could see it happening in real time, the way his body curled at the mere feel of you. to be so close to you, touching you; it was out of a far away dream.

you felt it too - god, you could feel it in your veins. the horrifying wave of unashamed want that filtered through you so naturally, your body knew him. your body recognised your husband.

your man.

his restraint was palpable. you could see it in the way his fingers flexed on either side of him, almost twitching as muscle memory surfaced from deep inside of him. for years touching you had been second nature, with a hand on your waist, fingers lifting your chin, arms around your figure to hold you up for a kiss.

now he looked almost tortured as he realised he no longer knew what he was allowed to do.

the realisation alone softened you.

“we should go.” you whispered up at him gently, though your voice lacked any real conviction.

jungkook stared at you, offering a small nod almost obediently despite the stark hunger in his eyes.

“yeah.” he cleared his throat. “yeah, okay.”

he stepped back and first; the distance was felt immediately.

you suddenly missed the warmth that radiated off of him, fingers faintly tugging on his suit jacket so gently you weren’t even aware you were doing it. what the fuck was wrong with you? one touch and you were already spiralling into him again like the last eight months had never happened.

jungkook noticed. of course he did.

his chest visibly expanded from beneath the expensive material, eyes darkening so suddenly you felt heat up and down your spine. the way he looked at you had emotion swirling in your stomach, so hungry. so devoted.

you slowly released him, blinking rapidly as though you’d only just realised what you’d done.

“sorry.” you whispered instinctively.

jungkook’s eyebrows furrowed together in offence.

“don’t apologise for touching me.” his voice came out firmer than expected, low. far too intimate given the apartment hallway you were in.

the silence that followed felt thick enough to choke on, neither of you making an effort to move despite knowing you were bordering on being late. the tension was so unbearable now that you were both alone, freely staring at one another after so much time apart - no yejin to soften the edges. just fifteen years worth of tension, want and need all accumulated between you.

his eyes flickered downwards as he watched you sway slightly.

“your heels are insane.” he muttered softly.

you blinked. “hm?”

“you’re already wobbling.”

offended, your mouth gaped. “i am not wobbling!”

jungkook let out a small huff of amusement, loving how easy it was to rile you up. the sound completely disarmed you, seeing a glimpse of the same jungkook you had been with all of your life.

“you almost fell walking out of the door.” he teased, with a tilt to his head downwards at you.

“i did not!” you shook your head with a small swat to his chest. he only let out another laugh. “you literally grabbed onto me.”

“that..doesn’t count, okay?”

“mm.” amusement stretched over his face, as he led you to the staircase, cautious to be slow as he watched you continue to slightly wobble due to the uneven surface of the hallway. “sure.”

before you could even think of a rebuttal, you watched jungkook look down the multiple staircases with a slight frown before turning to you. he suddenly bent at the knees, your eyebrows furrowed in confusion for no longer than two seconds before one arm slid below your knees and the other around your back.

your gasp echoed.

“jungkook!”

he lifted you bridal style effortlessly, as though you weighed truly nothing to him.

your hands immediately flung to the back of his neck, arms wrapping around his shoulders in shock as your body felt more of him than it had done in what felt like eons. jungkook’s hands were so much bigger than yours, and you could feel him everywhere all at once, enough to have you dizzy with a sense of want.

“what are you doing?!” you whispered harshly, eyes blown wide as he sorted you on one single arm, checking his phone for the time with the other. it was beyond easy.

jungkook merely looked down at you calmly, entirely unbothered despite the way you could feel his pulse hammering below your fingertips.

“preventative measures. can’t have you slipping down the stairs.”

you stared at him in disbelief. “you can’t just pick me up!”

he scoffed a little, as though your words were going in one ear and out the other. your comfort came first, that much was ingrained in him and even you couldn’t stop him when it came to that.

he walked down the stairs as though it was the most natural thing in the world, one hand spread wide against your back, claiming whilst the other was hooked under your thighs, making sure you were as comfortable as possible against him. your dress was draped so beautifully over his arm that anyone who would have caught you in that moment would have remarked, ironically, how bridal you looked.

you couldn’t believe how safe he felt.

jungkook noticed the second you relaxed into him. properly.

“missed carrying you.” he admitted quietly as he descended another step.

your entire body burned. “jungkook.” you breathed weakly, though there was no real warning behind your tone.

“what?” he hummed innocently. “s’true.”

you remembered almost fondly - it was the one thing you probably missed more than anything else. he would carry you everywhere - from the bed to your bath, to the couch after you’d woken up, through grocery stores just to hear you squeak in embarrassment. one time he had held you for an hour straight, walking you home after a date just because your feet hurt.

and now, here you were again, tucked into his chest as though it was home. you supposed it was.

your heart ached so violently at the memory that looking up at him through your lashes had your brain whizzing too fast for you to keep up with.

“you’ve gotten so much bigger.” you whispered almost shyly before you could stop yourself, already tucked into him too comfortably.

big mistake.

his heart truly nearly fucking stopped. his head snapped down at you almost instantly, eyes darkening so visibly it had you avoiding any contact, instead focusing your gaze on his clothed pecs.

“yeah?” he asked slowly.

your cheeks were flushed dark, realising how that may have sounded.

“just..got broader.” you clarified through another whisper, wanting nothing more than to hide your face in his neck out of embarrassment.

“been working out a lot more.” he murmured down at you, ducking his head a little so that he could meet your eyes, a small smile forming.

you nibbled your lip with a little nod, fingers brushing against the ends of his hair.

jungkook knew you loved the size difference between you, but it truly didn’t compare to how fucked it made his mind go. it was the first thing he had noticed when you opened the door again - how despite your heels, you were still so much shorter. it drove him insane, especially now that he was bigger. feeling you curled into his chest like this, all safe and protected, it made him feel wanted. to have you notice it, address it even so shyly; fuck. it ruined him.

by the time he had reached the bottom floor, your cheeks were still heated, dreading the fact he would have to let you go when all you wanted was to curl into him even deeper. to think ten minutes ago you had so much anxiety when now, he was actively conversing with you all whilst carrying you, it felt euphoric.

the driver stood outside of the car, the same man who drove you both to events when you were still together. your eyes widened a little as you watched him open the back door for you both, all whilst you were still leisurely held in his arms.

your embarrassment returned instantly.

“put me down!” you hissed quietly.

jungkook looked at you, unaffected. “why?”

“because your driver is literally staring at us, jungkook!”

the poor man looked away with a growing smile. he had missed seeing his boss so carefree, knowing that he was only like this when the situation pertained to you.

he smirked faintly. “he’s driven us around for years, baby. pretty sure he’s seen us do a lot worse.”

your mouth fell open, swatting his chest. “jungkook!”

that finally earned you a proper smile, brief but enough to knock the very air out of your lungs, your too large eyes drinking it in almost desperately. he was so handsome it hurt, and it wasn’t until now you realised how much you had missed his smile.

carefully, he gently lowered you to the ground, making sure you were comfortable on your feet.

his hands lingered. neither of you moved.

your faces were suddenly so close once more as your hands had slid down from his neck, but remained in contact, fingers digging into his chest faintly to feel him. the city noise faded around you and into the background as he looked down at you with an emotion that could only be classed as longing.

“you good?” he asked softly.

you nodded too quickly. “mhm.”

liar.

his eyes dropped to your lips once more, eyeing the gloss almost hungrily - would it taste like the strawberry you always applied? sometimes, when he closed his eyes, he’d remember the flavour.

then, like he had to physically pull himself back, he stepped closer to the car and gestured to it slowly.

“after you.”

you slid into the backseat first, smoothening your dress as it rode up your body, all whilst your pulse hammered harshly.

the interior of the car was sleek, donned in a luxurious black leather whilst it remained dimly lit in the back, with enough enough space to stretch out your legs. the scent of jungkook’s cologne was addicting, and you immediately recognised it to be the one you had bought him on your last anniversary together, your heart fluttering at the thought.

once he climbed in beside you, you realised how intimate the space actually was.

jungkook sat close enough for his thigh to brush against yours, broad shoulders taking up far too much room whilst the driver shut the door quietly behind him.

neither of you acknowledged the contact. it somehow made it worse.

it wasn’t until the divider between the front and the back began slowly sliding upwards, offering a layer of privacy that your breath caught audibly.

jungkook noticed - of course he fucking noticed. he couldn’t stop staring at you, especially now that he had you trapped here, pushed against him like you belonged with a drive ahead of you. god, the things he wanted to do to you in this dress were sinful at best, but he had to practise restraint, no matter how much it took out of him.

he leaned back, one arm sliding over to the top of your seat, where although he wasn’t touching you, you slyly leaned in just to have more of his warmth. it felt so familiar, so nauseatingly natural that anything other would have felt wrong.

he watched as your thighs pressed together.

fuck.

“you nervous?” he asked in his low voice, jaw ticking.

your eyes slowly shifted, finally meeting his gaze. through a shaky laugh, one without humour, you nodded. “obviously.”

he softened at that, sharpness melting away to reveal the tenderness below.

“it’s just me, y/n.”

you felt so hyperaware of everything. the rain that tapped softly against the tinted windows, and the gentle purr of the car engine beneath you. the feel of jungkook’s thigh soothed you, whilst his heavy gaze unnerved you - a cocktail mix that felt so entirely him.

you could feel his eyes on you before you even looked up. once you did, your breath caught at the intensity of his stare - not polite. certainly not subtle. his gaze moved over you, up and down, like he couldn’t help himself, like he he’d been trying to hold back the second you opened up the door to your apartment.

“fuck.” he muttered under his breath.

your cheeks flushed pink, whispering his name.

you watched his eyes flush down your body, eyes stuck on your cleavage and the way the material clung to your hips. “look at you.”

you instinctively looked down, shy at the attention but you couldn’t help but crave it. you knew exactly how obsessive jungkook was when it came to you, knew how deeply infatuated he was with every inch of you but seeing it so closely after so long almost felt soothing. it was a reminder that though everything had changed, somethings stayed the same.

his hand moved before you could think too hard about it, cupping under your chin and tilting your face upwards.

“don’t hide from me.”

your stomach tightened, eyelids hooded.

this thumb brushed against your jaw once, so soft, so unbelieving that you were in his arms despite the fact you technically weren’t his anymore. not that he believed that.

“i can’t stop looking at you.” he admitted, tone rougher now. “been trying since you opened the door, but it’s impossible.”

your thighs pressed together immediately, his gaze dropping to the small action. the reaction was subtle, but there - he noticed everything when it came to you.

you suddenly felt so warm.

“you’re staring so hard.” you murmured nervously, fingers twisting together in your lap.

“because you’re driving me fucking crazy.”

the words came out so plainly your eyes widened.

jungkook exhaled sharply through his nose, head tipping backwards against his seat all whilst you watched with heavy breath. the far gone part of your mind wanted to track his neck, trace his adam’s apple with your fingers all so he could continue looking at you the way he had been.

he looked devastating like this - broad thighs spread in the backseat with your body pressed against him, his arm slung heavy on the head of your seat. the both of you were a mess for one another, sick in the head with infatuation.

you weren’t stupid. you knew your effect on him, perhaps not to the full extent, but enough to know that nearly a year’s distance between you was enough to drive a man like him insane. his hand dragged over his face with a quiet groan before adjusting himself slightly over his suit trousers.

your eyes flickered downwards before you could stop yourself.

jungkook smiled at the sound of your quiet giggle as you put a hand over your mouth to muffle it, looking up to meet his gaze after noticing he was half hard. all you had done was exist.

“yeah,” he murmured, the sound of your laugh blooming in his chest. “that’s your fault.”

you slapped his thigh gently, although you couldn’t hold back on the continuous giggles that were now leaving you as you felt lighter than you had in what felt like years. he too matched you, the intensity lightening up massively as he let out a quiet laugh despite himself.

“what’d you expect, hm?” he asked, voice soft. “i haven’t seen you in eight months, and now you’re sat next to me looking like this. wearing pink.”

his hand slowly slid over, brushing against your own, fingertips grazing your skin before he intertwined them, gently.

you let him.

the second you curled your hand into his yourself, his expression changed. up until now, it was him losing control, reigning himself in, biting himself down to make sure you were as comfortable as possible but fuck. you were the one touching him now, making sure he could see you intertwine your hands properly, squeezing his hand.

it felt like a confirmation that this was the beginning of a new chapter.

he wanted to scream, to yell on the top of his lungs at the thought of you openly showing him your willingness. his sweet, angel girl; he loved you more than words could describe and he wanted to spend the rest of his life showing you.

“missed this,” he admitted quietly, eyes on your much smaller hand holding his so intimately. “missed you touching me.”

your eyes burned suddenly.

jungkook noticed immediately with a frown, expression softening at the edges.

“hey, baby.” his thumb brushed yours. “don’t cry.”

“m’not crying.” you whispered, though your voice wobbled embarrassingly.

he held you close to him as you both remained quiet for the rest of the journey, though the silence felt welcomed after such a rush and mix of emotions. you had gone from anxiety, to confusion, to excitement, to warmth, to a painful reminder of what once was - it was enough to drive you insane. being around him hurt, but being near him was healing.

rain continued to pitter patter outside as your hands remained intertwined, his fingers gently brushing against yours as he sat there trying to fathom how this was real. you were letting him in, and he could see it, could see how much it was taking out of you and he’d be damned if he fucked it up again. to get a second chance was insanity alone, but to have it with you?

the car began slowing down.

through the tinted windows, you could see a flash of white, people trying to get a glimpse of the elusive ceo they were so obsessed with. you gulped as you watched other powerful business people walk in with their dates, models and celebrities lining up to have their picture taken.

you leaned into him almost immediately.

jungkook held onto you tightly, arm sliding over your waist and gently squeezing. “i’m here. stay by me.”

you nodded quickly, dazed. “okay.”

his eyes lingered on your face for a second too long before he muttered under his breath, almost like he couldn’t help himself. “you look so fucking pretty.”

your heart nearly stopped, meeting his gaze as your shoulders slumped, feeling calm through his sweet words.

the car door opened.

chaos.

jungkook stepped out first and the reaction was everything you had expected and somehow so much more. your eyes blinked as you watched the cameras explode violently, reporters shouting his name from all directions as they desperately tried to get a clear shot of him, knowing he could easily make front page news without having to try.

your heart stopped for a moment.

his back faced everyone else as he turned to you, taking a hold of your hands once more and gently helping you out of the car, smoothening your dress.

the second they saw you? everything multiplied by ten.

genuine screaming was heard from somewhere behind the barricades as you slowly stepped out, your own hand finding jungkook’s for a sense of comfort which he readily gave you, pulling you in a little closer than necessary. the noise was erupting, your vision blinded momentarily by the insane flashes, reports actually tripping over one another to take pictures of you in particular.

this wasn’t normal.

jeon jungkook never brought women anywhere. never entertained rumours, never dated publicly, never stood beside any other woman that hadn’t been you. even then, you had been painfully private, making sure to attend closed events with rare appearances, often opting to support in the shadows as opposed to centre stage as he was forced to.

but now? this was the loudest statement you could have possibly made and it slowly dawned on you both the nature of the decision.

you were telling the world you were ready to start again.

his entire demeanour had changed out here.

you were overwhelmed to say the least, but it was his arms around you that kept you grounded as you clung to him, your smaller frame tucked so delicately within his own that some found themselves putting their cameras down just so they could observe you both.

you were the epitome of love and neither of you even knew it.

ceo jungkook - all cold eyes, sharp jaw, that terrifying calmness. yet every few seconds he ducked his head down, whispering something in your ear that would have you smiling almost shyly back up at him, easing your mind away from the hundreds of people who wanted nothing more than to get a picture of you.

“jungkook over here!”

“is that your ex-wife?”

“are you two back together?!”

“y/n!”

you flinched slightly as the voices got louder the closer you walked down the carpet towards the venue, but it seemed jungkook’s presence only felt bigger.

“don’t look at them.” he whispered down into your ear, words tucked for you and you alone. “look at me.”

stupidly enough, you obeyed almost instantly. his eyes softened at the way you listened so sweetly.

“good girl.” he muttered absentmindedly before guiding you to the entrance and away from the prying eyes outside.

the words hit you far harder than they should have. good girl.

oh you were so fucked.

—

the venue was utterly breathtaking.

golden lighting spilled across towering ceilings whilst soft music played from a live orchestra at one side of the ballroom, so elegant you’re indeed whether you were even appropriately dressed. people stared at you openly, all whilst you and your flushed cheeks looked away, purposefully keeping your gaze vague and avoiding eye contact with most. glasses clinked together as powerful figures mingled amongst themselves, professional cameras still set up inside.

and yet, none of it compared to the way people reacted to jungkook.

conversations paused when he walked by, people straightening up. executives who had once terrified you now looked nervous approaching him and it reminded you exactly who he was outside of your relationship.

jeon jungkook was a terrifyingly cold, business man. he was untouchable and unfeeling, everything that made a powerful man powerful and then there was you. his one weakness.

his hand remained firm against the small of your back possessively, claiming you as his own in front of anyone who could see. you loved when he was like this, all brooding and dark as though anyone even had a chance to steal him from you - silly man. even now, with months of distance between you and a divorce, you were all his.

“breathe, baby.” he reminded with a quiet hum in your ear.

“i am breathing.” your cheeks warmed.

“barely.”

you shot him a look, though it was void of any real annoyance as he guided you further into the room. you couldn’t help but admire him openly, all whilst he scanned the room, not realising how deep you were falling into your own thoughts. he really had gotten so much bigger, with his chest so wide you couldn’t help but wonder what it would feel like under your hands. his shoulders too.

you had spent the entire drive trying not to stare at him. you had failed. miserably.

“drink?”

he pulled you out of your thoughts with a little gasp, realising you had been openly checking him out much to his pleasure. you found yourself nodding, nibbling away at your lip. “yes please.”

the words came out too fast, awarding you with a small laugh as he turned towards the bar.

your eyes followed him automatically.

that was another problem entirely. you see, no matter where jungkook stood, attention naturally followed. men greeted him immediately, keen to get into his good books whilst women openly stared, hoping to garner his fancy and yet he was completely and entirely uninterested. his gaze flickered back to you every few moments, as though he still couldn’t believe you were right there, just for him. just because he had asked you to come.

your chest squeezed painfully at the thought.

he returned only a few moments later with two champagne glasses, handing you yours to which you took with a nervous smile.

“thank you.”

your fingers brushed his purposefully. small, barely noticeable.

oh, but how jungkook had noticed. he noticed everything when it came to you and judging from the way his throat bobbed, taking a large sip of his drink, you knew that your poor ex husband was certainly not able to handle your charm.

the champagne helped much quicker than you were expecting it to.

after the first glass, the tension in your shoulders completely eased but it was the second that had you transforming. your overthinking thoughts ceased to exist, as the warmth in your blood brought out a shade of pink in your face that jungkook couldn’t look away from. standing close to him suddenly felt less terrifying and so much more thrilling.

a dangerous combination - especially when jungkook was looking at you with so much hunger.

a buzz had settled deep into your bloodstream, your brain slightly away with the fairies as you continued to sip, looking up at him. your other hand darted out, fingers trailing over his stomach openly, over to where the buttons of his suit sat. what was an absentminded action to you, tipsy, was enough to have jungkook almost shaking.

you were braver when you had alcohol in you, that much had been true your entire relationship, but even this felt quite insane. he watched as your fingers trailed up and down, sliding up to where his chest was only to drop lower and lower. it wasn’t until your fingertips were brushing the top of his suit trousers that he grabbed your hand.

you pouted at him, head tilted. “why?”

your whine had his shoulders rolling.

“because,” he said slowly, voice rough beneath the sound of the orchestra. “you’re getting handsy.”

your lips patted in faux innocence. “am not.”

jungkook stared at you half in disbelief and other half amusement, still holding your hand that he now pressed to his chest firmly. your fingers had nearly slipped below his waistband, a thought that had him nearly taking you home then and there but he knew it was because the alcohol was making you brave - his tipsy girl. his palm engulfed yours, feeling your fingers wriggle underneath to continue your plans with a slight whine but he was both firm and possessive, not letting you go.

you pressed your thighs together again.

this was the champagne.

he knew it, knew it to be a dangerous mix - the alcohol and your naturally clingy personality once you got comfortable, all combined with the eight months apart meant you were now simply doing whatever your heart wanted with little care to your mind.

your cheeks warmed as you watched him stare down at you, gaze heavier than anything all evening. it seemed the longer you were both in each other’s presence, despite how long you’d spent apart, the more bold you were getting - but could you be blamed? he might have been your ex husband but he still belonged to you, and you knew you were still entirely his, a fucked up fact that meant you were both drawn to each other in ways that meant you could never move on.

multiple months of healing all gone to shit in a single night, with a few drinks. who were you both kidding - moving on wasn’t an option. even you could see that now.

your fingers flexed under his hold, people secretly watching you both interact with bated breath. they couldn’t believe this was the same jungkook they were afraid of, made to mush at the hands of the pretty woman in front of him. he was but a man afterall.

rather than pulling away, your fingers simply curled around the fabric of his suit jacket, fingers touching his shirt purposefully to elicit another reaction out of him. he had reduced you to putty in the drive over and perhaps it was the alcohol in your system, but you wanted him to feel the same.

jungkook was quiet. too quiet.

jaw slightly slack as he took you in, you touching him like his body belonged to you and you alone. he relished in the fact you knew it just as well as he did.

he had missed this so much. just the feel of you, no matter how innocent you pretended to be, skin on skin. it felt like a promise.

and now, you were standing here, head tilted to stare up at him properly whilst looking through pretty lashes that batted at him subconsciously.

it was driving him insane.

“you’re staring again.” you hummed at him. his eyebrows narrowed. “because you keep touching me.”

you tried to bite down the smile that began to form on your lips as your fingers continued to flex, soon finding his heartbeat to confirm your suspicious. oh, he was a mess underneath your hand.

“you don’t seem to mind.”

his jaw flexed. you heard him curse under his breath, calling you a fucking minx which only had you giggling just as quietly. it was a powerful thing to have a man as influential as jungkook so weak in the knees for you, and you couldn’t deny the affect it was having on your mind. he snaked a heavy arm around your waist, pulling you flush against him in a way that was absolutely not becoming of the environment you were in.

“keep this shit up and i’ll take you home.” he promised quietly, leaning down to whisper into your ear.

unfortunately for him, you had no intention of stopping. especially when you had just begun.

“promise?” you whispered back, eyes wide with a faux innocence you knew he wanted to ruin.

his jaw clenched again, blood half boiling at how cheeky you were being and cock hardening by how badly he wanted to ruin you. had this been any other circumstance, you’d already be in the bathroom with your dress to your chest, being pounded into by the only man who knew exactly how to ruin you until you were well bred.

but alas - this night was about proving himself to you, and no matter how hard you made him, he knew he had to do this right.

and so, instead, he pinched you at your waist slightly, pulling an airless squeak out of you before he brushed his lips against your ear.

“behave.”

the word should have been warning enough, but instead, warmth fluttered through you, rushing through your stomach so violently you pressed against him further. jungkook nearly hissed, watching how reactive you were for him, with your hooded eyes and slack jaw.

fuck.

his hands were all over you, with little care to who was watching and you knew tomorrow you’d be mortified when you remembered how brazen you had both been, but it was hard not to feel addicted when you were both feeling the same way. you giggled lightly, hiding your face in his chest momentarily before meeting his gaze.

“you’re very confident for someone i divorced.” you playfully hummed.

at that, he couldn’t help the smile that formed on his face. “didn’t stop you from getting your pretty hands all over me.”

the alcohol was well into your system as you found yourself giggling once more, fully hiding yourself in his chest to which he wrapped his arms around you properly, the two of you whispering and laughing together as though it was the most natural thing in the world. jungkook’s colleagues, rivals and admirers all watched you both in genuine curiosity at the way you were so well suited. two people, quietly infatuated with one another - it was toothache inducing.

the conversation between you both remained playful, with his thumb tracing your bottom lip at one point muttering something about how badly he wanted to know how your lip gloss tasted. an hour in and you were both practically trying to one up each other with how far you could take it, leaving you both laughing whilst trying to stay quiet.

this is what you had missed. joy. comfort. being around him in a way that didn’t feel like you were fighting to prove something. it had been so long since you’d felt this carefree that you realised pretty quickly that you couldn’t let him ago again. it was a horrible thought at first, realising that the past few months may have been for naught but perhaps absence did make the heart fonder.

soon enough, you had been there close enough two hours and jungkook had done the rounds once you settled in, less tipsy but still buzzed. you met his new business partners, clients you hadn’t seen in a while, a mixture of familiar faces and people you had only ever heard about. neither of you commented on the fact he introduced you intimately, with a heavy arm around your waist.

it genuinely felt like no time had past with the way you both felt so comfortable, the dynamics between you natural considering he had been the one constant in your life for the past fifteen years. you sipped on your glass of water as you listened to his conversation half mindedly, watching him discuss a new company contract with one of his shareholders.

it wasn’t until you heard a voice echo throughout the ballroom announcing the beginning of the charity auction that the conversation came to an end. jungkook immediately took a hold of your hand, planting a cheeky kiss to your knuckles with a slight smirk, before leading you towards the front of the room where the different things on auction sat to be admired over.

“c’mon.”

you followed him easily, hands intertwined whilst you walked side by side, champagne now a dull buzz in your body. people moved around you respectfully, all whilst their eyes lingered on you much longer than needed. could you blame them? you were the infamous woman that had managed to lock down the one man that seemed disinterested in everything, so much so that you had him laughing and flushing pink every time you so much as looked at him. the divorced couple that looked anything but divorced.

oh, they were staring indeed, with hushed whispers and even quieter questions.

your attention drifted lazily over the displayed pieces, politely but nothing quite caught your interest, your eyebrows pulling up at some of the art pieces named. it wasn’t until you reached the very end that you found yourself stopped in your tracks.

jungkook noticed, he too coming to a stop to glance over at you only for his gaze to follow yours. he immediately understood.

beneath warm lighting sat a painting, inconspicuous to most considering it was much smaller than the grand pieces to the left, but it had your eyelashes fluttering

white gardenias.

your breath left you quietly.

it wasn’t just flowers - it was an oil painting, textured with strokes of green, ivory and creams whilst petals cascaded over one another so delicately your heart ached. the background dat moodier, darker compared to the softness of the flower leaving you in a state of utter awe for a few moments, all whilst holding the hand of your ex-husband who watched you with bated breath.

it was beautiful.

you stepped closer unconsciously, hardly aware of yourself.

jungkook didn’t think he’d ever seen you look at something with this much wonder, in all of the years he had known you. it did something to him, to watch you genuinely in awe at something he could so easily give you - it made him realise he needed provide it for you just to see that look again and again and again and again and again.

he felt this throat tighten, a harsh lump forming the longer he watched you admire it. the way your glossy lips parted, eyes widened and fingers tracing the air in front of it - donned in the same diamond necklace he had gotten you years prior. the same necklace he’d bought you after you murmured something about diamonds resembling stars late one night as you curled into him in your shared bed.

and here you were, wearing it, all whilst your hand curled inside his as though you had never been more at peace. that did something to him. something he couldn’t quite describe.

your fingers moved to brush over the small description plaque underneath, reading the inspiration for the piece with a small, choked huff - devotion. enduring, eternal love through trial and tribulation through each season of life.

your own throat tightened then. of course.

“gardenias are difficult flowers..they die so easily if you don’t take care of them.” you found yourself whispering; straightening your back and avoiding his gaze to bite back any tears that wanted to appear.

his chest tightened violently.

all he could think about was the little apartment you had both shared when you were younger, when he barely had any money to get you by each month. the one with the poor lighting and the janky sink - you used to sit by the window each morning whilst he got ready for work, whispering sweet things down at them because you believed it would help them grow.

he remembered every single detail.

“you kept yours alive for months.” he whispered back, the hand that was clasped in yours now intertwining your fingers, as though he could project his memories back to you.

you blinked back at him, eyes glassy, surprised slightly. you hadn’t expected him to remember something so small and insignificant.

how could jungkook could ever forget a single thing about you?

a small smile pulled at your lips. “i used to get upset whenever they’d lose petals.”

“you cried once.” he corrected.

you rolled your eyes. “shut up!”

he only shrugged, lips twitching. “had to console you all night.”

“i thought i killed it!”

his quiet laugh nearly knocked the air from your lungs, all whilst he pulled you back into him, breathing in the scent from your hair before taking you to your shared table, where the auction was about to begin. your fingers remained curled around his own, all whilst he helped you sit down, fixing your dress for you.

he physically couldn’t pull away from you, couldn’t stop touching you even as you began conversing to the woman beside you, who jungkook recognised as one of his shareholders. his thigh was pressed against yours, all whilst his hand sat heavy in your lap, both of your hands playing with his fingers absentmindedly.

the different items came on stage as you watched people bid, raising their panels whilst some shouted out their numbers for more exclusive pieces. you couldn’t help your giggles, leaning over to whisper in jungkook’s ear whenever you’d see more excited people, all for him to lean into you with an equal smile. the two of you were being silly, and it felt fun for once.

by the time the gardenia painting finally appeared, your posture straightened as you tapped on his hand with a wiggle of your eyebrows. jungkook watched you with a lazy grin, eyes flicking over your face.

cute.

the bidding started much lower than you expected, causing you to frown. “that’s it?”

he nearly laughed, seeing your passion for your flowers. “art’s subjective, baby.”

“yeah, well everyone is wrong..so.”

fuck. he loved you so much.

you watched as someone raised their paddle, and then another, and another. a bidding war began as your head bounced between people, watching in utter curiosity though a part of you wondered what it would be like to bid yourself. ironically for you, you were completely unaware of the man beside you staring at your profile like he wanted to devote the rest of his life to you.

“two million.”

your eyebrows raised.

“two and a half!” someone else shouted, causing you to play with his fingers a little faster almost out of excitement.

“hope someone who actually appreciates it gets it.” you leaned over to whisper into his ear, lips brushing against his cheek in the process.

his jaw ticked.

game on.

just as someone shouted out, claiming three million, jungkook ran a hand through his hair before raising his panel, dark eyes trained on the auctioneer.

“five million.”

your head snapped sideways so fast you nearly gave yourself whiplash, all whilst jungkook sat completely calm, hand raised lazily as though this was easy. like he hadn’t just dropped five million as though it was nothing.

“jungkook!” you whispered, eyes wide. he merely hummed back at you, hand still intertwined with yours. “hm?”

“what are you doing?!”

“getting you your painting.”

you stared at him in disbelief.

across the room, multiple people were openly whispering now, glancing between you because everyone could recognise what was exactly happening. this wasn’t ego - this was love.

obsessive, and terrifying love.

another bidder raised their paddle almost nervously, calling out a measly “five and a half” after a moment of hesitation.

“seven million.”

an audible murmur fluttered through the room just as you grabbed onto his arm with a large gasp, eyes widening as though he was batshit insane. “jungkook, stop!”

he finally looked at you, small smile playing on his lips at the sight of you so shocked. it was so cute the way you were practically toppling over your seat, a reminder that despite being with him, you had never really dabbled in his wealth whatsoever despite it all belonging to you.

a large shout of ‘sold’ was heard by all, but you couldn’t bring yourself to look away from him. his eyes admired you, from your lips to your eyes, your shaking hands that were both clinging to his thigh, your cleavage that had dipped even further than earlier. fuck. you were the epitome of everything he had ever wanted.

“you wanted it.” he whispered to you, as though that was all he needed, as though it was enough of a reason to spend seven million in one night with a flick of his wrist.

your eyes near enough watered at his words, knowing that nothing had ever described jungkook better.

—

things between you and jungkook had settled into something dangerous.

not enough to call yourselves fixed, or enough to place a label onto whatever fragile thing had formed between you, but enough that your days seemed lighter. having him back in your life meant you were happy again, and actually excited - finally feeling whole in ways that no one else quite understood.

he called more often now.

what started off as phone calls sometimes briefly between meetings, something about using your voice to destress before important gatherings. they quickly turned to late night facetimes where both of you laid in bed, half naked, chatting until either of you would fall asleep. some nights they turned into something darker, dirtier, with a slip of your night dress to show him more all whilst he’d grunt and hiss at the sight, whispering all of the things he wanted to do to you.

it was beginning to feel domestic, familiar even. so terrifyingly easy.

you realised pretty quickly that somewhere along the way, between late night conversations and soft laughs exchanged, you had began falling deeply in love again.

hard.

he had been away on business ever since the gala a few weeks ago, with him currently stationed in hong kong over some important stakeholder meetings. you knew he was incredibly stressed over it, given the frequency of his calls - always at odd times during the day and night, sometimes with the intention of just looking at your face as though it was the only motivator he needed.

the time difference was more irritating than you had expected, and yet he still managed to find a way to accommodate to your schedule as opposed to his.

your favourite so far had been a simple picture of the skyline view from his hotel, taken at three am with a caption of ‘wish you were here.’

you hated how much those four words affected you.

pathetic, really. how even now, you’d kick your feet in excitement over any message sent from your ex husband.

it had become routine now, to expect messages from him with each waking moment, calls when the workload was heavier. perhaps that was exactly why the silence that afternoon felt so particularly loud.

you were curled into your couch, opting to work from home as you were in his jumper and a pair of flimsy shorts. you hummed quietly as you balanced your laptop on your thighs, all whilst a random entertainment news channel played in the back to offer some noise in your otherwise quiet apartment.

your ears perked up once you heard jungkook’s name somewhere in the background.

your attention barely lifted at first, no doubt another gossip sesh on how attractive he was which often made you giggle, but this felt different.

“ceo jeon jungkook spotted in hong kong alongside mystery woman-“

your stomach dropped.

the laptop slipped from your thighs and onto the couch cushion, all whilst your head snapped towards the television, reaching for the remote to turn it up. the image splashed across the screen, all whilst you sat there, smaller than anything, watching.

jungkook.

beside him, an undeniably beautiful woman.

she was tall, elegant, dressed sharply in a suit practically created for her whilst cameras flashed at them harshly, exiting a building together. the headline underneath made your chest cave in further.

‘global heartthrob ceo finally moving on after the divorce?’

you stared. and stared, and stared, and stared, and stared, and stared until your knees had slowly slid to the ground, your back touching the couch whilst the entertainment show droned on and on about the details of your relationship with jungkook, about how smitten you had both seen at the gala, how they were the first to break this exclusive news.

your brain knew better. you knew jungkook like the back of your hand and logically, you fucking knew better. jungkook was so many things, but he had always placed you and your emotions first, your priorities, your necessities, your life - your wants and needs transcended everything else. you had never asked for it to be this way, it was just the way he was.

even during your separation, he had never looked at a woman twice. you knew that.

but logic had never been able to defeat insecurity.

all you could think, all you could see, based off of a single image was how she fit beside him. how effortless it looked, how beautiful she was, how successful. so poised and polished - she was everything a woman who stood beside jungkook ought to have been and it was killing you in real time.

the worst thing of all was the realisation that he didn’t belong to you.

all of this emotion, this horrible feeling inside your chest and soul - you were the one to divorce him. you had been the one that demanded it end back then, no matter how much he had begged you to see reason, believing that it was the correct step forward for the both of you. he had every right to move onto someone else, had every right to actually step forward towards something new.

and yet the thought of him belonging to someone else felt the closest to grief you had ever felt in your life.

your phone rang violently loud beside you, droning out the words of the presenter and making you jump slightly.

jungkook.

your eyes burned instantly.

the phone continued to ring and ring across the sofa cushion as you stared at his contact picture, a photo taken on your anniversary a few years ago that you could never bring yourself to change. your chest rose unevenly as another harsh wave of emotion hit you.

you couldn’t do this.

not after you had spent the past few months trying not to think about him, only for him to come back into your life.

the call rang out.

then another came. and another. and another.

your phone was blowing up with a mixture of calls and messages, each vibration making your heart ache so much worse as the topic changed on the tv, talking about some other celebrity gossip all whilst you felt your entire life collapse before your very eyes.

with shaking hands and teary orbs, you turned your phone off.

you burst into tears.

the rest of the day was spent being utterly miserable. you had never felt so pathetic in all of your life, with pain running up and down your veins in a way that genuinely left you almost debilitated. the last time you were this heartbroken, you were a fresh divorcee.

the curtains remained shut despite the afternoon sun outside, your apartment dim besides the soft flicker of the television that continued playing mindlessly in the background. at some point, you had dragged yourself towards your bed with tears still streaming down your face, his oversized jumper now heavy on your frame.

you hated this version of yourself.

hated how deeply this had affected you despite knowing better. you knew him better than this, had enough trust in him and yet you couldn’t barter with what was directly in front of you - months after rebuilding a sense of confidence all for it to shatter over one measly, gossip channel.

you closed your eyes, images of the beautiful woman stood beside him flooding your mind causing you to open them up again with a quiet whimper. so composed and effortless. untouched by the devastation eating you alive.

by morning, your chest was in genuine pain.

you looked awful too.

your eyes were swollen, red with the continuous tears all night whilst your skin felt sunken and dull, the early morning sun hitting your skin from glimpses through your blinds. you forced yourself out of your bed and into your shower, trying to rid the plaguing thoughts out of your body. you failed, spending the majority of it quietly crying.

by the time you were in the living room again, your nose was just as pink as your eyes, hands shaky and body adorned in an old t-shirt you had secretly stolen from his wardrobe back when you were packing to leave. you curled weakly into the couch, blanket curled onto your legs as you begged your body to rid the horrible stomach ache that had now found home inside you.

your phone remained switched off, somewhere under the blanket, still left there from yesterday. you reached for the remote.

you just wanted mindless noise.

instead, the television flickered to life and you found your breath catching harshly for the umpteenth time within 24 hours.

breaking news banners on every channel you came across.

jeon jungkook.

a whimper pulled up out of your throat at the sight of his images everywhere, your fingers tightening around the blanket before you turned the volume up.

“the ceo has officially filed legal proceedings against multiple media outlets this morning following yesterday’s false dating allegations-“

your heartbeat began thundering. you sat up immediately.

another clip appeared instantly, reporters practically tripping over one another in front of jungkook’s main company building, cameras flashing in hopes of getting a picture of anyone who could answer for anything.

“the statement released by jeon jungkook’s legal team less than half an hour ago reads as follows-“

the screen shifted, and suddenly, there it was. cold white text against a black background that had your breathing stopping completely.

“the allegations regarding ceo jeon jungkook are entirely false. the individual photographed was present for a scheduled business meeting attended by multiple executives and investors. legal action will be taken against all parties responsible for the deliberate spread of false information and invasion of privacy.”

your throat tightened harshly.

your eyebrows furrowed as you watched the presenter stop, looking at the camera momentarily, before her voice completely softened.

“as for the final portion of the statement, many online are expressing surprise regarding the unusually personal nature of his response as he personally commented-“

more text appeared.

you scanned it once. twice.

over and over and over until a harsh sob was ripped from your lips.

“i have never entertained nor pursued any romantic involvement with anyone.

there has only ever been one woman.”

a broken sound tore from your throat as your hand flew to your mouth, fresh tears spilling from eyes so fast that you couldn’t see the tv. your heart felt like it had been picked up from the ground, cradled and cherished after being pierced over and over all night, attacked without any reprise.

you couldn’t believe what you were reading.

jungkook, your jungkook? so private and reserved, not willing to give one inch of himself to anyone other than you and yet here he was, making himself as clear as possible. he was telling everyone with ears that you were his but more importantly, he belonged to you and you alone.

he despised media attention, it truly was the one thing he hated more than anything and the both of you would often laugh at rumours and random things stated in the tabloids because they were all bullshit.

and yet he has made a statement publicly.

for you.

your chest cracked at the thought as you covered your face with both hands, sobbing harder and harder.

before you could wallow further, a loud banging erupted from the front door.

the sound tore so violently through the apartment, you jumped - startled on the couch whilst your heart leapt to your throat. the slight fear had your tears stopping immediately, allowing for enough of a shock to regulate your mind for a few moments.

another knock came before you could even process it. louder, and louder, and louder.

“baby!”

your breath hitched painfully.

jungkook?

his voice sounded wrecked. not the calm, controlled man the world knew, nor the eerie ceo who often stood emotionless in front of the cameras whilst deals worth billions sat heavy on his shoulders. this was your jungkook - the one who loved you much too hard, half unravelled whenever the conversation pertained to you.

“open the door.” he shouted again, along another collective banging. his voice cracked slightly. “please..”

you stared into space for just a moment, your mind unable to comprehend what was happening before your legs carried you to the door, through the hallway. you slipped on your blanket slightly, already shaking body weaker than usual given the past twenty four hours, all whilst hot, heavy tears burned in your eyes once more.

another knock.

“baby, c’mon..”

the second your shaking hands unlocked the door, it swung open hard enough to hit the wall behind it, as though jungkook couldn’t believe you had actually heard him.

he looked utterly destroyed.

he stood, still in a suit that now sat disheveled on his frame, black tie loosened around his throat, white shirt wrinkled as though he had been in it for hours. his usually pushed back hair was messy, pulled at and tugged through large hands any time he had realised the depths of emotion you were no doubt feeling looking at the news - if the shoe was on the other foot, and jungkook had seen news of you and another man; he would’ve happily burnt the world to a crisp.

the second he saw you, his entire face fell apart, anger long dissipating.

“fuck.” he whispered, heaving out a breath.

his oversized shirt sat on your body, engulfing your smaller frame, swallowing you whole in a way that had his breath taken away. it was your eyes that broke him, however, as they looked so swollen, no doubt from crying so hard, your cheeks still damp and lips still quivering enough that he watched you bite down on them.

you watched his throat bob harshly, watched his eyes flicker over yourself frantically like he was trying to assess how badly you had been hurting without him here to comfort you. the thought terrified him.

that was all it took for a sob to rip out of your chest so painfully your knees almost buckled. your hands flew up to your face.

immediately, his arms shot out, cradling you almost harshly to him with one large arm completely covering you whilst his large hand pressed against the back of your head, holding you close to him as though this was the only remedy for a situation like this. his sweet girl. his sweet, sweet girl.

“i called you for nineteen fucking hours.” he said, eyes darting down at you desperately.

you couldn’t stop crying. “i know.”

“your phone was off.” his voice broke slightly, as though the situation had hurt him beyond words. “that scared me, y/n.” he admitted, chest heaving a little.

your crying only worsened immediately because of course it scared him - jeon jungkook, a man who’s entire identity was you and you alone. the prospect of losing you for the second time would surely be enough to kill him, and yet answering his calls felt like the last thing you could bring yourself to do.

“i tried not to think like that,” you choked out through hiccups. “i know you wouldn’t, logically i know but just kept seeing the pictures of you beside her and..”

your chest was heaving.

“stop talking about her.”

the words came out sharp, almost harsh.

his hand slipped to cup your face, holding your jaw in place whilst his arm slipped down, cupping your body to him so you could rest, his own strength supporting you up. his eyes were wild.

“don’t,” he repeated quieter, chest rising and falling. “don’t..stand here and..fuck, don’t compare yourself to someone else for even a second over some shitty tabloid.”

you couldn’t stop crying. it was as though that was all you could do.

“jungkook..”

“no.” he cut in immediately, voice cracking at the edges. “you don’t get it.”

he stood before you, a cocktail mix of utter despair and devotion, all whilst anger and fear simmered on the surface, every emotion open on his face to the point he almost felt unrecognisable. you knew he loved you, could see it painted on his features for the world to see but you weren’t sure when his feelings for you had become his very destruction. it scared you.

his hand shook around your face.

“you think i flew half a day because of a fucking dating rumour?” his eyes glazed over. “i don’t give a fuck about the tabloids, baby, you know that. i was scared because i know what this would do to you. i know your brain.”

your breath hitched.

“i know you.” he repeated, hands continuing to shake against you. “know how your mind gets. i know you’d sit here and cry over this shit when you know i would never touch another woman.”

another harsh sob clawed up your throat, and jungkook heaved at the sight as though it was the worst sound he had ever heard.

“look at me.” he pleaded suddenly.

his hands dropping from your body as he suddenly dropped to his knees - a man of his stature rendered completely broken by the woman he loved. the amount of people who looked up to him, feared him; the amount of people he dictated on a daily basis and yet here he was, on his knees for you. only you.

“there has never been anyone else.” his voice cracked completely. “not before you, not after you. not after this, no matter what happens, you hear me? it’s you, and it’s always going to be just you.”

your own knees were begging to give out, as you leaned against him, only for him to rest his face against your stomach, breathing you in like a man desperate for your understanding. he wanted you to see, needed you to comprehend the situation at hand. there was no him without you, the concept didn’t exist.

“you’re the only woman i’ve ever loved and there is nothing after you, y/n, because you’re my wife. divorce or not, i don’t give a fuck, i belong to you forever whether you want me or not and i won’t..i can’t have you thinking otherwise.”

your entire body gave in at the admission as you collapsed into him with another heart breaking sob, jungkook holding you like a man terrified he had said too much and truly not enough. for the first time since the divorce, neither of you tried to pretend this wasn’t exactly what it was.

—

the rest of the evening softened after that.

somewhere between the tears and the endless kisses planted to your cheeks, nose, head, hands and stomach came an ease to the panic that had long settled into your bones for the past few months. he refused to let you go, grunting almost childishly whenever you’d move out of his arms to do anything until you found yourself snuggled back into his arms, as though the thought of distance after such a clear cut declaration of love physically pained him.

he looked exhausted now that the adrenaline of the situation had worn off, his under eyes sunken from the exhaustion that had now settled deep into his body. to think he had flown all the way across the world simply because of the thought of you crying all alone over a situation that was so completely false upset him - it made you want to sob all over again.

how could you have ever let him go? how could you proceed forward without him, without him so deeply intertwined in your life once more?

eventually you found an old pair of black shorts mixed in with your clothes from when you had packed your things all those months ago. jungkook had stared at them for a few moments after his shower, towel low on his hips as water droplets slipped down his chest. it had his heart pounding faster than anything yet.

“you kept these?” he murmured down at you, watching the way your eyes flickered up from his physique, small gasp leaving your lips at being caught. “oh! um..must’ve slipped them in by accident.”

he didn’t comment on the fact you were wearing his t-shirt either, despite it hardening his cock.

still, he pulled them on as you settled into bed, your hair still scented from your earlier shower too. you, in his too big top, whilst he grabbed you immediately, shirtless and hands still desperate to hold you in a way he had held back on for so long.

you hummed as your body pressed against his, his figure snaking around your body as a heavy arm curled under your ass as a means to prop you up higher in his arms, causing you to giggle into his neck. your arms wrapped around him too, humming a little under your breath as he breathed in your scent openly.

you both laid there in silence for a long while, breathing. healing.

the room was dark now, with the city lights from afar shining through the slips of your blinds, illuminating slivers of his bare chest beside where your hands sat. you could feel his heartbeat, the way it calmed your already heightened senses as though your body recognised it was finally home.

“missed this.” you whispered into his ear, only snuggling closer to him.

jungkook’s grip, once on your waist, slid down to your ass once more. this time, his palm sat on your ass cheek, fingers digging into your skin whilst breathing you in.

“don’t say shit like that to me when i’m hard.” he grunted, a small smile forming across your lips. you hadn’t even done anything, not that you needed to to get jungkook bothered.

when you pulled him from your neck, his eyes were already glazed over, both of you taking a second to simply stare at one another in the exact way you had wanted for so long. his mouth parted, as his hooded eyes took you in, holding you closer, tighter.

within seconds, his lips touched yours.

slowly, at first, as though he was trying to relearn you after years of you being his. he savoured every moment of your lips against his, especially once you started to kiss him back, both of you uncertain in the beginning but once your hands began to find home in his hair, it was then that jungkook’s touch began to grow in confidence.

he kissed like a man starved, one hand buried in your hair too whilst the other continued to grip your ass possessively, as though physically feeling you was enough to have his mind go into overdrive. every small sound you made went straight to his cock as he swallowed your little sighs and whimpers, only pushing him to kiss you deeper and deeper and deeper.

he was growing desperate, pushing you down against the bed, half hovering over you as he rested on one arm, hand cupping at your thighs, your stomach, your knee. anything he could get his hands on all whilst his tongue explored your mouth as though he had every right.

perhaps he did because despite everything, the divorce and distance, the heartbreak - he still reacted to you like you were the only thing capable of fucking him up.

his lips eventually drifted from your mouth, pressing against your chin, your jaw and finally your neck. oh, this sweet, pretty little neck, he had dreams of marking it up and down every other night and the fact he had you in his arms now, in a bed far too small for the things he so desperately wanted to do to you was everything and more.

jungkook moved, properly hovering over you now just as you moaned into his mouth, legs wrapping around his waist, pushing your top down your thighs and revealing your lace panties you had conveniently put on. just in case, of course.

he pulled away, a string of saliva connecting both of your mouths as you watched it break apart the further he pulled his head back. just staring at you hurt, with the way your cheeks had flushed and your hair was spread all across the pillow, and your thighs. fuck. the sight of what was between them had him openly groaning down at you.

“need you to tell me to stop baby, or i won’t be able to hold back.” he hissed down at you, feeling your legs tighten around him before he could finish his sentence.

your hands moved to the waistband of his shorts, eyes never leaving his as you tugged on it just slightly. jungkook, who’s two hands were on either side of your head, blinked down at you half in awe and other agony, the prospect of you teasing him in a moment like this his literal worst nightmare. you always knew how to make him impatient, said it was the best version of him.

he watched with bated breath as you grabbed one of his arms until his hand was in your own, slowly pushing it under your top to rest on your stomach. it felt heavy on your frame, large palm heating your already hot skin before you pulled him down, other arm wrapping around his neck.

“wanna feel you here, kookie.” you whispered into his ear.

jungkook nearly took you then and there.

his jaw flexed, a heavy leaving his lips as he chased your lips, planting another kiss. “yeah? want kookie deep inside?”

“mhm.” you hummed against him, placing your hand over his on your stomach.

“but haven’t taken me for so long, baby. might be too much.”

you closed your eyes at that - the way he cooed down at you despite telling you how easily he could ruin you, break you. it all felt like too much and yet the empty ache inside of you reminded you it wasn’t enough, causing you to merely nod.

“i don’t care. want it.”

the pout on your lips. fuck. jungkook thanked the gods he was a better man, more patient, especially knowing you were doing this on purpose.

“always used to struggle to take me, hm? fucked you open every night and you’d still cry.”

jungkook reached forward, lips on your neck once more but this time, his hips began chasing yours, grinding down almost harshly, causing you to feel every inch, every vein against the flimsy material you called panties. it was heavenly

your hands grabbed him by his biceps, smaller hands unable to wrap around the circumference of his skin. how could you forget your nights of passion? he would spend hours between your legs, so mean, orgasm after orgasm and he still wouldn’t feel satisfied, an insatiable man to his core. even on nights you’d argue, it would somehow end in you fucking which meant the last eight months had been utter hell.

your poor fingers couldn’t reach far enough and nothing brought you to an orgasm unless you thought of him, imagining it was own digits instead of your own.

silly you - if only you realised how similar you and jungkook were. he couldn’t get off unless he was on your instagram, staring at your pretty eyes and lips as he tugged on his cock with all of his energy, round after round after round only to be constantly dissatisfied. having you below him, so ready to be his again? it fucked with his head.

“you'll make it fit.” you whispered.

within mere moments, neither of you could wait. his shorts, alongside the large tshirt that originally belonged to him were on the floor, leaving you in your lacy panties alone. his boxers strained against his hardened length which oozed precum at the mere sight of you, hips bucking a little as you watched him groan out loud at the wet patch forming against the flimsy material.

“my pretty pussy.” he whispered, just as he parted your legs. his fingers pushed your panties to the side, almost hissing from how damp they were, knowing you must have been needy for a while. “missed her. you’ve been holding out on me, baby.”

your eyelashes fluttered up at him at the first touch of his fingers running up and down your slit. you let out an airy moan, barely audible, your body immediately easing back into the covers now that you could finally feel him on you.

he suckled on your neck whilst he circled your clit, knowing your body better than anyone. you were both so in tune with each other’s wants and needs that an eight month break between you both meant nothing when he bit against the sweet spot on your neck all whilst applying more pressure.

you squeaked, nails digging into his biceps at the harshness of his fingers.

“fuck, you’re so needy.” he grunted, pulling away from your neck after leaving a hefty purple bruise. “not been touching your pussy the way it needs.”

“doesn’t feel..” you moaned louder. “doesn’t feel good if you don’t do it.”

his eyes almost rolled back at that. “yeah? need kookie to be the one to touch you?”

“mhm.”

at that, he pulled his hand away only resulting in a loud whine from you. so cruel, to have been given a taste, only to have it pulled away from you.

your positions, however, suddenly changed as jungkook realised the space on the bed was much smaller compared to the bed you had once shared. he rested his back on your wooden bed frame before grabbing you properly, resting you in his lap against his too hard cock, spreading your legs wide.

your back was against his chest, all whilst he caged you in, his fingers returning to your cunt immediately.

this new position had you so much more exposed, as he pushed your thighs apart, index finger circling your hole before slowly pushing inside. your eyebrows furrowed, watching him with a shake to your breath as he took his time, knowing a single one of his was the equivalent of two or three of your own - a though that had him wanting to fuck into you already.

the loud moan that left your lips once he fully inserted it was enough to have him kissing at your temple, cooing.

“like that?”

“feels big.” you whispered back with a shake, feeling him pump in and out.

at that, jungkook thought he was ready to fucking cum. even your pussy was as sweet as you were - too big? one finger and you were already fucked out, but he knew he had to stretch you to accommodate him, a thought that brought a nasty little smirk on his face.

“gotta fuck you open, baby. always so tight.” he continued to coo at you, all as you looked up at him, his finger being joined with another.

soon enough, he was roughly fingering you, all whilst you both maintained eye contact, often breaking it just to share a kiss as though neither of you could get closer to the other. the feeling of him inside you, just like you had become used to for so many years after months apart was the definition of pleasure, your eyes hooded with each pump.

“feels s’good.” you slurred slightly, chest heaving.

he watched your breasts, your bed squeaking with each passing movement and he fucking loved it. loved having your eyes on him, loved having your tits bounced everytime he’d fuck you open a little harder, your sweet moans filling the space.

you could feel how hard he was, but everytime you tried to turn to pleasure him too, he’d merely hold you tighter, as though your orgasm was the only objective on his mind. he wanted to eat you out, fuck - the thought had him all but growling at you but he knew he’d never last, promising himself he’d save that for later tonight.

“wish you knew how many times i’ve dreamt about this.” he grunted down at you, as he watched your thighs try to close from the onslaught of pleasure, only for him to widen them immediately. “i’m constantly fisting my cock thinking about you. at work, at home, in the fucking car.”

“what do you think about?” you pressed desperately, needing to hear it.

jungkook bared his teeth at you slightly, all whilst his pace quickened. “think about breeding you, pumping you full of cum till you’re begging me to stop. every morning, every night until you’re pregnant with our baby. you’d like that, hm?”

you could have sobbed. like was an understatement, your legs widening with each passing word as you nodded almost desperately at him, looking up and above where his head tilted down to watch you.

your eyes then fluttered shut at the image of him touching himself, almost shuddering out of relief at the thought of him so infatuated that he had to cum just to get you off of his mind. especially at work - the whole reason of your divorce being his dedication to his occupation and now knowing you had your affect on him there too? it was euphoric.

“think about you all the time.” you whimpered back at him, pout so cute he wanted to scream. “tried..fuck..tried to touch myself after the gala..but wasn’t enough.”

he watched as you shook your head up at him, one of your hands on his wrist as the same hand pumped faster inside of you at the admission. he cursed under his breath, letting out a deep exhale.

“should’ve told me. fuck, y/n. would’ve ruined you then, baby, you know that right?” he nuzzled into your cheek. “would’ve let you use me as much as you want.”

it was your turn to whimper under your breath, as your eyes shut tight at the familiar feeling in your stomach starting to creep up. it was shocking, how slowly it managed to creep on you, and yet you could feel every inch of its intensity, the first in a long time where you know you’d feel satisfied.

jungkook could feel you clenching, your too tight hole sucking him in desperately as a bid to have him go meaner on you, to which he was more than happy to oblige with. he grabbed your chin with his other hand, forcing your head back so you’d open your eyes again. he wanted to watch.

“eyes on me, pretty girl.”

you weren’t sure if it was the sweet way he cooed at you, or the brutal pace he was now forcing you to take but your orgasm hit you like a freight train. you let out a loud squeak as electricity fluttered through from your head to your toes, your hips rising whilst he continued to finger you through your high, hissing at how sexy you looked maintaining eye contact.

his pace didn’t lessen, devoted to longing out every hit of pleasure for as long as possible, your legs shaking as you pawed at his wrist, but he refused to stop. your body began falling into overstimulation, whining loudly as your weakened hands grabbed onto his, feeling him finally slow whilst he remained two fingers deep, pushed inside of you all the way to his knuckles.

he curled them one last time, causing a shaky breath to leave you before slowly removing them inch by inch.

the emptiness inside of you was horrible, a reminder of what else you wanted and how badly. your big eyes met his, only to watch him take his fingers press them against your pouted lips until they parted, your tongue wrapping around. you tasted yourself, a sweet sigh leaving his lips at the sight of you sucking so eagerly, his cock jolting harshly in his boxers.

“still don’t think you can take me right now.” he whispered down at you, other hand moved so it was openly cupping your pussy as a whole, palm brushing against your hypersensitive clit.

you jolted which each passing touch, breathing shaky before you took his fingers out of your mouth, saliva coating them where your slick once was.

“don’t care, kookie. i want it anyway.” you grumbled slightly, and he swore he had never loved you more.

it was your turn to move as you pulled away from his grasp, giggling a little to yourself at the look on his face once you put space between you, only to turn around, so you were laying on your stomach. he remained in his position, legs on either side of you allowing you to press your hand against his massive bulge.

oh, how you’d missed his cock.

you were as impatient as ever as you pulled his boxers down enough so that his fat cock could finally spring free, watching the way it tilted upwards at first, but its weight forced it down lower and lower until it was resting almost gently on your face.

he wanted to take a picture. wanted to make it his screen saver, your contact picture in his phone - he wanted it in his fucking wallet. his girl, eyes all hooded after being bratty for his cock? you were a minx and you didn’t even know it.

“don’t have a condom.” he found himself whispering at you, just as you began to pump him.

you tilted your head at him, hand unable to wrap around his length as you slowly teased his slit, fingers brushing against it just to him shudder. you watched his face, watched his very composure crumble before your very eyes all whilst he muttered something about a condom? your mind was barely working, still sensitive from the way he had made you cum and the horniness still in your stomach.

“why would i want you to wear a condom?” you whispered up at him, as though it was a little secret between you.

you watched his eyes darken in real time, narrowing down at you as both of his large hands grabbed the back of your head. you giggled, resting your cheek on his thigh whilst you continued to pump his cock, focusing on the tip just the way he liked it. the heaviness in your hand was what you missed the most, causing you to leave a little kiss to it on the mushroom tip, your fluttering eyes only driving him more and more insane.

he wouldn’t last like this. not with you staring up at him like that.

and so, he pulled your hair. you whimpered, pussy clenching as he pulled you up by your locks, your large eyes completely taken over by how rough he was being with you, no doubt being fuelled by the heightened emotions of the past two days. this was your favourite jungkook, secretly of course.

within seconds, you were on your back once more, all whilst he grabbed your hips and yanked you close to him. he dropped down to give you a kiss on your lips, savouring the taste and feel of you before beginning to rub his cock up and down your tight hole.

“my girl.” he whispered against your mouth. “no going back after this.”

your eyes clenched shut at the feeling of him teasing you, pushing the tip against your hole only to pull back the second it began inserting, rubbing it up and down and over your clit once more. he was a tease through and through, but you were too needy to see reason.

“don’t wanna go back, want it all.” you simply whimpered back.

your words were enough to finally have him pushing inside of you.

first, the tip. your face contorted to the familiar feel of his cock slowly inserting inside of you, your breath catching slightly at the sheer size of him - you struggled to take him even when your sex life was incredibly active, so you knew now that you hadn’t been touched for eight months, this was going to be hard.

you watched his face harden, all whilst your eyes slipped downwards to see him pushing further in, inch by inch, until your fingernails were puncturing the skin of his outer arms. he watched your face instead, willing himself not to cum at the way your jaw grew slack, big eyes only widening further at the too large cock settling in inside of you.

it was too much, too big, too at once. you couldn’t think, could barely see and yet you couldn’t pull yourself away from watching him bottom out even if you wanted to, a slight bulge evident where he sat deep inside of you. his large hand took a hold of yours and kissed it before pressing it against the bulge, only to rest his own right on top. applying pressure, he hissed at the way you let out a loud whimper, your cute thighs trembling around him.

“feel that?” he whispered down at you, nuzzling your nose to force you to look at him. “thats where i fucking belong. this pussy stretches so good for me every time.”

your lip was already trembling, a sight that had his cock throbbing deep inside of you as you clenched down on him hard. his cry baby - he loved seeing you teary during sex.

you were still adjusting as he began to move, causing you to squeal, but jungkook couldn’t wait anymore, not when he’d been dealt with blue balls for close to a year. you were the only option, pledging to live a life of fucking celibacy if you’d have chosen to never let him inbetween your legs again though the thought killed him inside. live a life without a taste of your sweet pussy? he’d sooner die.

“jungkook!” you slapped the tops of his biceps, as he continued his thrusting inside of you, nipping at your jaw, feeling his smirk against your skin.

the feeling of him thrusting in and out of you was intense, something you had been craving for so long now and yet now it was happening, you wanted more, and more and more and more and more. he loved this shy game you’d always play, always pretending like you couldn’t take it despite the fact your legs were widening further and you were moaning like a bitch in heat - it turned him on beyond words to know underneath the sweet persona, you were the filthiest slut he had ever known.

his pace was deep, mean but slow and it wasn’t enough, purposefully done to tease you for as long as he could, to ensure you’d stay needy. it was clearly working with the way your moans, whines and gasps filled the air only to be followed with a long drawl of his name, face scrunched up so cute he wanted to fucking scream.

“c’mon, baby, you’re so good to me.” he cooed, continuing his slow thrusts. “just gotta ask if you want something.”

your eyes scrunched shut, whimpering at his words knowing he wanted you in ways that you had reminisced on for months, the feeling of him kissing the gummy part of your cunt something you had missed so much.

“want it properly, kookie.” you begged him, though you couldn’t meet his gaze, eyes flickering down to his neck as he continued his pace. “yeah? tell kookie how you want it.”

your fingers clung to his shoulders as he came down, arms now pressed on either side of your head as he nuzzled your nose with his own, actions too sweet given the sinful position he had you in.

your breathing was ragged, the feel of him inside you too much for your poor little mind to handle without breaking and yet it wasn’t nearly enough. you craved something harsher, meaner, more jungkook. neither of you had ever been ones for soft sex, always preferring it as needy as possible which only heightened considering the fact you were both so utterly obsessive when it came to the other.

you whined loudly as his actions came to a stop completely, now grinding against you whilst still being inside.

“just want you to fuck me properly.” you whimpered, lip quivering so much faster, hips lifting to meet his as a means to relieve yourself.

god. you were killing him.

“good girl.”

jungkook planted a single kiss to your lips, oddly sweet before pulling back, planting two more to your forehead and nose. you were ready to whine once more until you felt his hips pull back, only to thrust into you harshly.

you squealed as jungkook began his pace exactly how you craved it, exactly how you used to picture with your own fingers in your cunt, desperately trying and failing to replicate the feel. hard. fast. mean. rough.

your neighbours would no doubt complain tomorrow with the way your bed frame began pounding into the wall, his head pressed against yours as his thrusts began kissing your cervix. your legs shook around him, much to his enjoyment, all whilst he forced you to maintain eye contact, wanting so badly to see the affect he was having on you after he had been deprived of you for so long.

“fuck..there she is. that’s my girl.” he hissed down at you, not holding back, the sound of skin slapping against skin heavy in the room. “you don’t know how badly i missed you.”

“m-missed..ugh! missed you..too..” you managed to string together, salted tears now escaping your eyes as they streamed on either side of the pillow.

“pretty girl like you needs to be fucked mean. no good to be nice to you, huh?” he growled down at you, only causing your lip to quiver that much faster as you nodded. “can’t think unless it’s me bullying your pussy into an orgasm.”

your nods were paired with soft sobs as he pounded, ruining your soppy core just like you had wanted. you had dreamt of this, dreamt of him, genuinely believing you’d never reach this state of pleasure ever again in your life and yet here he was, coaxing it out of you to remind you that he’d never leave you again.

his thrusts were sloppier than usual, no doubt due to the extensive length between your last fuck but it only had you moaning and crying louder. the thought of the usually composed jeon jungkook a whining mess for you and you alone had you clamping down hard on his cock.

“can’t believe i let you leave me.” he grunted hard at the feel of you getting so tight, gritting his teeth as he pounded you further. “never again. you fucking hear me, y/n? you’re my wife forever.”

“promise?” you sobbed back, arms now wrapping around his neck as you tried to bring him impossibly closer, as though you could in any capacity.

he nipped at your bottom lip, moaning into your mouth at the way you all but begged him to make it a reality.

“gonna take you to the courthouse tomorrow, get you a nice dress and we do..fuck..we do this again, understand?” he closed his eyes the more you whined and whined. “gonna let me put that ring back on your fucking finger, baby?”

you nodded wildly, just as you felt your orgasm build up in your stomach again, whining loudly up at him in a way he recognised immediately. fuck, he had missed this so much - his angel girl, all needy, begging for it even though she could barely take it. he could feel his own coming on fast, causing him to pull his hand down and rub at your clit, hissing at the feeling of you clamping down on his cock harshly.

“c’mon baby. want you to cum on your husband’s cock, hm? gonna get you nice and round like you deserve.” his thrusts only got meaner. “move you back in. fuck this pussy every single day, just like you need.”

your high rushed through you at the exact point his did, your legs wrapping around his waist as a means to keep him inside. you could feel it all through your body, the way it seized up and bucked into him all whilst he continued his thrusts, fucking you through both of your orgasms.

your vision started growing dark, the intensity of it overwhelming as he rode out your highs whilst whispering soft i love you’s in your ear, cradling you to his chest, holding you closer than you’d ever felt him before.

everything after that completely blurred together.

you remembered jungkook taking care of you, tenderness laced into his very being as he held you like you were akin to a porcelain doll - sweet, so soft, so delicate. somewhere between the damp kisses pressed to your skin underneath the bubbling bath he had drawn for you both, to the continuous declarations of love muttered down at you; you realised that this was inevitable. he was inevitable.

there didn’t exist a reality where you both could live without one another - you knew that now.

even after the heartbreak, the divorce, the loneliness and the debilitating grief, you still found yourself exactly where you belonged. your cheek pressed against his chest, his heartbeat soothing you into a dreamlike state which paled in comparison to the reality that was now yours. his love had you wrapped so tightly you knew you’d never live without it again.

you were finally home.

—

this beast of a fic is finally done yay!!! i hope you guys love ex husband jungkook just as much as i do!

tried to make him less yandere in this one and more pathetic yearner lol but i may have slipped here and there 💔

i’d love to hear your thoughts on this - love hearing you guys after a fic drops so i’m excited to see what you all think!!!!

if you wanna help support me pay my disgusting, awful, horrific london rent, my kofi is linked <3

love you so bad 🥹

[jenyluv]

WAVE 𝜗ৎ part 1/2

wave— your weekly anonymous psychoanalysis on cute boys with broad shoulders and pretty girls in tiny skirts. make sure to not miss any updates from campus’ favorite emotionally invasive blog!

jeon jungkook is a notorious lady pleaser with a weak spot for pretty girls with big vocabularies. so when he unexpectedly meets you, a journalism major who happens to be the prettiest girl he has ever seen, he terribly, miserably folds.

PAIRING: fuckboy!jk x journalist!reader

GENRE: college au, fluff, smut, angst

WC: 12.5k (for part 1)

WARNINGS/DETAILS: fem!reader, ie major!jk, secret identity reader, jk thinks she’s soo pretty :( forced proximity?, reader’s kinda selfish sometimes, jk’s so horny the entire time, jk briefly kisses another girl, very cheesy college vibes, jealousy, alcohol consumption, smut wise: titty sucking, he hits it from the back, cowgirl, fingering, big d jk always

NOTES: okay you see, i write everything with the entirety of my heart and soul but this one carries details that are a bit too special to me compared to anything i’ve shared with you before. of course it’s just another silly little fanfiction but i got a bit absorbed into the characters and world building. also it feels like i’ve been working on this for ages so i wanted to share it in two parts bcs i was gonna lose my mind if i didn’t post at least parts of it soon enough. i hope you guys feel and enjoy this the same way i did while writing <3

𑣲 banner by 𑣲 divider by

There's a specific kind of loneliness that exists exclusively in university boys who project their fear of intimacy onto women and ruin their perceptions of love solely to keep their fragile egos away from slipping through their fingertips and breaking down like blades of glass. 

Not because they're incapable of being loved. I'd say the situation is quite the opposite, actually. People like them are usually loved too loudly, too quickly. They become socially unavoidable before they become emotionally available— having mastered the art of making people feel personally seen while remaining uniquely difficult to access in return.

And maybe, that's where the actual problem begins.

Charm is easier to preform than vulnerability, attention is more addicting when you've never experienced a form of raw intimacy, and a real conversation probably feels worse than a pair of red, glossy lips. 

Every generation repackages the same socially gifted boy with commitment issues and calls him different names, swearing this one is different than the last.

But surprise, it's not.

This year's version just happens to wear leather jackets and lip rings to nine a.m lectures while also somehow possessing actual analytical skills in addition to social ones— perhaps the most alarming thing about Jeon Jungkook is that he isn't a business major. 

Because boys like Jeon Jungkook learn early that if they remain entertaining enough, nobody will notice how carefully they avoid stillness; as though silence might physically harm them. Does an engineering major make him interesting? Maybe. But does it fuel his hedonistic lifestyle? Not exactly. 

The bass is thudding loud enough to make the kitchen cabinets tremble with every beat, pulsing through the frat house in uneven waves that settle through your body like a second heartbeat. Alcohol that's cheap enough to poison you on an empty stomach spills over sticky counter tops, and the room reeks with the smell of warm beer mixed with something disgustingly similar to your ex boyfriend's cologne— you're going to throw up.

But you don't. Because, well, you can't. 

So you keep holding a cup of cranberry vodka in your hand despite accommodating a strong dislike for the drink, you keep your smile warm and flirty even though deeply missing the comfort of your bed and wanting nothing more than to rewatch Mamma Mia for the third time this month. And you keep bobbing your head along to the music even though you swear any house beat without proper lyrics would be enough to kill a fly. 

You keep your chin high and your posture straight because you need this. You need something tangible. A reaction, anything capable of sitting inside your palm until you can carry it home and pour into words later. Because you've already wasted at least three hours of your precious friday night here and you are not leaving unless you find something worth pocketing.

Luckily for you, said Jeon Jungkook is standing at the center of it all. 

His back is pressed against the kitchen counter as a girl keeps on kissing him as if the birth and death of her universe lies somewhere between his lips. Her fists are tangled in the collar of his leather jacket, tugging his body closer and closer into her smaller frame like distance is completely unnecessary, like she needs his body to melt and mold with hers to embody the entirety of proximity itself.

A familiar voice shouts his name from the living room, but Jungkook doesn't budge until someone else reaches over to steal the drink straight out of his hand, laughing into her mouth unapologetically.

He pulls away just enough to see whoever it is that's calling him, hands firming up on the girl's waist to stabilize himself. "Give me thirty seconds!" He shouts back casually.

The response is immediate. "You said that twenty minutes ago!"

"Then clearly I'm busy."

The girl in front of him rolls her eyes, hands loosening on his collar before dropping down to his chest. "You're an asshole."

"Mhm, you think?" He asks with a smirk playing on his lips, looking down at her. 

"Do you ever take a break or is your case of over sexuality a medical condition?" Mingyu complains, drinking the beer he has just taken from Jungkook's hand as their shoulders bump into each other.

Jungkook finally pulls away fully, shifting closer to Mingyu. "You're obsessed with me." 

Mingyu scoffs. "Unfortunate for Seoul's female population."

"Guys," Yugyeom interrupts, looking up from his phone with a sudden delight on his face, as if the light from his phone's screen has traveled and bloomed again behind his pupils. "Wave posted." 

The reaction arrives in less than a second, because Wave had long stopped being just another anonymous campus blog sometime during sophomore year. It became something students enthusiastically refreshed during lectures, sent feverish screenshots to group chats at ungodly hours. Because everyone somehow grew to love Wave— until they became the subject of it.

Jungkook closes his eyes briefly, sparing a fraction of a second to recollect the exasperation in his heartbeat, inhaling slowly. "I swear if this psychopath wrote about me again—" 

Yugyeom's grin widens. "Bad news, superstar." 

"For fuck's sake." Jungkook mutters, snatching the phone away from Yugyeom's hand while Mingyu's laugh echos loudly from besides.

The familiar layout of wave flashes straight into his eyes, light blue and dreamy and so fucking pretty for a blog this cruel. Well, cruel would be an exaggeration, if you weren't Jeon Jungkook.

"Oh my god." Mingyu gasps. "Second paragraph is crazy." 

"Crazy accurate." Jaehyun corrects, reaching over Jungkook's shoulder to keep reading.

"This person needs psychiatric help." He says flatly.

"Mhm." Jaehyun hums, taking a sip of his drink. "You say that because you secretly agree with everything." 

Okay, you see, that's the problem with Wave. 

The issue had never really been the concept itself, because Wave has always been undeniably good. Jungkook can survive a day or two of public embarrassment. God knows he has spent the last two years of university building an almost concerning amount of immunity to people's uncalled opinions. The problem is that whoever it is that's sitting behind that stupid light blue website is unsettlingly gifted at noticing things they absolutely shouldn't. The tiny, quiet things people lock somewhere safe beneath their hearts and reveal only when they trust someone with their lives. 

It suffocates him sometimes, not that he'd ever say it like that.

"I'd rather die than agree with this hypocrite." He says instead.

Jaehyun nods dismissively. "Right."

The girl beside Jungkook leans over his shoulder, eyes laced with curiosity. "Wait, keep reading." 

"Use your damn phone." He shuts her off immediately, handing the phone back to Yugyeom.

Yugyeom grabs his phone in one hand while he shakes Jungkook's shoulder dramatically with the other. "Did you do something to this writer we don't know of?"

"Why are you acting like i personally asked to be publicly humiliated?" 

Mingyu shrugs. "Because you clearly enjoy it a little.

"I actually don't." Jungkook argues. 

Majority of the people around him dissolve slowly, disappearing into the crowd to find their own group of friends to gossip on the article that just got posted, leaving Jungkook with his own group of friends who unfortunately do not make up the IQ of a normal person even when merged together.

"Hey," Jungkook says like he suddenly remembered something so crucial, angling his body towards Jaehyun. "Have you seen Mark?" 

Jaehyun's brows pull together. "Thought he was coming later."

"He texted me like an hour ago." 

"Your secret little rendezvous?" Yugyeom asks knowingly, wiggling his eyebrows.

Jungkook scoffs lightly, rolling his eyes. "Shut the fuck up."

Mingyu gasps dramatically. "You're cheating on us with the music major?"

"None of you are funny." Jungkook says, shaking his head once before letting his gaze drift around the kitchen while Mingyu and Yugyeom start arguing about something else entirely.

Then he spots you.

Oh. 

Jungkook knows you. Okay, he doesn't exactly know you, but he knows of you. Through Mark, through Yugyeom, through this and through that but never truly by heart.

You, with a face carefully designed by gods, standing there mindlessly as if you aren't the textbook definition of beauty itself. You, who'd without a doubt get his cock rock solid in mere seconds by rolling your eyes and laughing at how dumb he is. You, who'd pretend to not be fazed by him while very obviously blessing him with flirty smiles and inviting eyes.

You would be…mildly inconvenient for him.

"Why are you staring at her like that?" Jaehyun asks from besides him. 

Jungkook tears his eyes away immediately. "You're seeing things."

Mingyu laughs loudly, chiming in a beat later. "You literally are." 

"Shut up." 

"You don't even know her like that." Yugyeom adds, grinning. 

"I know enough." 

Jaehyun lifts his brows accusingly. "That is?"

Jungkook opens his mouth, but closes it again in no time. Because somehow saying prettiest girl on campus who'd drop him to his knees by casually using words he has to mentally spell twice feels a little excessive for a girl he's never had a proper conversation with in his life. 

"Mark's friends with her, right?" He asks instead. 

Jaehyun nods slowly, a little suspicious. "Yeah." 

"Cool." Jungkook replies. And before any of his friends can say another word, he's pushing himself away from the counter and walking towards you. 

Mingyu gasps dramatically behind him. "Oh my god, he's approaching." 

"Act natural!" Yugyeom shouts over the music. 

Jungkook scoffs in exasperation, but he doesn't turn around, walking towards you as he flips them off by waving a hand behind. 

You notice him coming over almost immediately. Because Jeon Jungkook isn't exactly one to go unnoticed by many, and that sadly seems to cover you too. There is something annoyingly conspicuous about him, visible even in places that are so crowded you lose your friend within the bare minute of getting there. 

Maybe it's the broad shoulders, maybe it's the tattoos and the lip rings that usually wink at you before even he gets the chance to, or maybe it's the fact that everybody seems to orbit around him with a push and pull so heavy it feels like he's the center of gravity itself.

It's probably the shoulders. 

Miyeon, your gorgeous best friend, notices him too as his steps get closer and closer to where you are standing. Her lips twitch knowingly around the rim of her cup. "Well," She murmurs into her drink. "This should be interesting." 

Jungkook stops right in front of you before you can reply to your friend. "Hey." He greets easily. And annoyingly enough, his voice sounds exactly the way the rest of him looks.

You tilt your head slightly, half empty cup swaying between your fingers. "Hey yourself."

Jungkook blinks once before letting out a breathy laugh. "Oh, this is already going badly for me." 

Miyeon snorts into her drink, but you quickly nudge her arm before she says something she shouldn't. "I'm looking for Mark." Jungkook continues, gaze shifting back towards you. "Have you seen him?" 

"You're looking for Mark?" You repeat, cocking a brow. 

And for some reason, Jungkook's smile widens. "We were supposed to meet." 

The answer catches you a little off-guard. Not because Jungkook knowing Mark is strange. It's not, everybody knows Mark. But because there is something in the way he says it. He's saying it seriously, with intention. Like whatever they're meeting about actually matters to him and that's not something you can coherently place somewhere solid in your head.

"You sound committed to that." You say before you can stop yourself.

Jungkook squints his eyes. "I can commit to things."

You take a sip of your drink, taking your time with the action as your brows raise with something laced with accusation. "You sure?"

Jungkook's eyes widen just slightly as Miyeon turns away, trying to hide her laughter. But she cackles anyway. "That's crazy." He says, a loose grin forming on his face. "You know absolutely nothing about me." 

"You don't exactly strike me as somebody mysterious." 

"Yeah?" He breathes. "What do i strike you as?"

You roll your eyes, poking the inside of your cheek with your tongue. And whatever that happens in Jungkook's chest— it's deeply unfortunate. 

This is exactly his type, horrifically so. Pretty has never been an issue for Jungkook, he has been surrounded with pretty all his life. Pretty and mean, on the other hand, is apparently where the problem in his pants begin. 

But before either of you can continue, Jungkook's name is yelled from across the room. "There you are!" Mingyu shouts, throwing an arm around Jungkook's shoulders after he makes his way towards you. "Some girl is throwing up on Jaehyun's shoes because you disappeared." 

Jungkook closes eyes briefly, inhaling a long breath. "See? What's commitment if not that?" 

You laugh despite yourself, loud and real and so fucking pretty Jungkook thinks he might've forgotten how to breathe properly. 

"I'll tell Mark you were looking for him." You say. 

"Appreciate it." He says before stepping backward towards the kitchen, then pauses suddenly. "By the way," He starts, causing you to raise a brow. "You're prettier than your articles sound." 

Your expression freezes for a beat, lips parted and head still tilted. A lazy smirk dances on Jungkook's features before disappearing back into the crowd behind Mingyu, leaving you standing there with your drink still halfway raised. 

Miyeon slowly turns towards you. "What the fuck was that about?" 

Your eyes linger on the hallway Jungkook disappeared into, gaze floating like you've just wandered into an ocean with no trace of the start and end. Because no, you don't have an idea on whatever the fuck that was either.

Your phone buzzes before your thoughts can swallow you up any further.

namjoon: still awake?

Your eyes flick between the small digital clock on the corner and the text in the middle of your screen before your fingers move over the keyboard.

you: i'm at yugyeom's party

namjoon: you posted during a frat party?

You roll your eyes even though he can't see you, though you're sure he feels it behind the screen.

you: it was queued

namjoon: ah

namjoon: coffee at mine?

namjoon: you can sleep over

You lift your head at something Miyeon says, nodding your head without really listening to what she's talking about. You tuck your bottom lip into your teeth, weighting your options before deciding to give in.

you: wow, the honor

you: on my way

The city feels different after midnight.

Maybe not quieter, because noise never really dies down on friday nights. People like to laugh, dance, live. Because modern time doesn't really allow love anymore. Because people spare friday nights for themselves and keep it tucked somewhere they know it belongs. Because people yearn to belong and time doesn't like to stretch and bend around desire. It just moves. 

The city feels softer, as if somebody reached over and mellowed the space so that everyone could find a place for themselves. At least, that's exactly the way you feel when your uber drops you off outside of Namjoon's apartment building twenty minutes after you leave Yugyeom's place. The clock is ticking past two in the morning, and by the time you make your way upstairs, your feet are aching and your social battery has officially ran out.

When the door opens, Namjoon greets you with that same old warmth you've had memorized for nearly four years— almost the entirety of your college years. He gives you a hug before disappearing back into the hallway, informing you of how the coffee is almost done. 

His place is dim except for the kitchen, where a warm light spills in and drapes over the entire apartment in a yellow hue. It always smells the same here. Not in a weird way, not at all. Just very…specific. It smells like books that have already been read at least twice and expensive coffee beans that are too niche for you to have any understanding of— because to the normal person, they all just taste the same.

Definitely not to Namjoon. 

You slip your heels off by the door, following him into the kitchen after dropping your purse somewhere on the couch. "Do you want to lose all the sleep left in your system?" You ask, gaze dragging over the empty coffee mugs on the counter. 

Namjoon stands in the kitchen with his back turned to you, dressed comfortably in some gray sweatpants and a dark colored hoodie. His glasses sit low on his nose, hair falling onto his forehead in messy strands. "I'm writing something." He says, a soft smile forming on his face as he pours in the hot liquid carefully. "How was the party?"

You climb onto the counter, plopping your body onto the marble as your legs dangle above the height. You unashamedly stare at him for a moment, taking in the sweats and the glasses and the fact that he somehow still looks put together despite the hour. Because Namjoon looks a little unfair like this— annoyingly intelligent and completely at home.

"It was loud." 

Namjoon hums, handing you the mug. "The alcohol was terrible, i spent the whole night trying to keep Miyeon away from Yugyeom, and someone cried in the bathroom after throwing up on the floor."

"Sounds typical to me." 

You take a sip of the coffee, then groan immediately because it's still too hot to drink, before setting it down with exaggerated annoyance dancing on your face. You trail behind him into the living room, pulling your legs beneath yourself as you sink into the couch while he settles right next to you with his laptop balanced over one knee.

"You're actually writing." You say, eyeing him over the rim of your mug.

"I told you." Namjoon says, giving you a brief glance before he turns his attention back onto the screen. 

Your eyes absentmindedly drift towards the screen of his laptop, floating over the margins that are filled with notes, sections that are highlighted, pages filled with comments and edits that are all very Namjoon. And for a second, for the entirety of a thousand milliseconds that feel way longer than it actually is, your own laptop sitting abandoned inside the void of your apartment suddenly feels eccentrically heavier. 

"My advisor hates me." 

Namjoon doesn't look up. "Did he say that?"

You sink lower into the couch, sipping your coffee slowly without forgetting to blow onto it. You can not burn your mouth again, not a chance. "No, but he looked disappointed." 

Namjoon sighs. "I know it sucks and you want to strangle him to the depths of death, but he just has high expectations from you."

You groan dramatically. "It's so annoying." 

Namjoon hums, nodding along as his eyes scan through the screen. "How's the thesis going?" 

That's when you gift him the pleasure of absolute silence. Because unfortunately, deeply unfortunately, somewhere along the way, your thesis and Wave started bleeding a little too much into each other and now everything feels way too personal and disgustingly intimate. 

Not entirely, of course. Wave is still just a tool for you to learn and observe without tracing everything back to yourself. But lately, it has started to feel a little less objective and a little more on the edge. 

You didn't lose the hang of it, not really. You're still the same girl writing with the same devotion for the same purpose. Just…there has been small slips here and there, noticeable only to people who know you well enough to search for them. 

You tuck your bottom lip between your teeth. "It's progressing." 

Namjoon's eyes drift towards you, and your gaze lifts until it catches his own in the air. "Why are you looking at me like that?" You ask when he stares at you for a second too long. 

"You don't sound too truthful." 

You scoff, then roll your eyes before grabbing the nearest pillow and throwing it in his face. But being the man he is, Namjoon catches it without looking. Damn him. 

"You write about Jungkook a lot." He says suddenly. 

You shrug. "He's easy material." 

"You've written about him four times by now."

You pause, squinting your eyes as every piece of writing you've ever published in the last two years flashes through your eyes. Because there is no fucking way you've written about that tattooed excuse of sex on legs for four entire times. "Four?" 

"Four." He repeats. 

You drop your shoulders in defeat. "You're very unlikeable tonight." 

"I'm just providing you with my opinions." He says, typing while speaking. "You can't ask for help if you aren't going to take my advice." 

You pull your knees closer against your chest. "I don't ask for your opinions." 

"You called me crying over an econ elective last year." 

You sit up immediately, placing the mug onto the coffee table. "Okay, first of all, it wasn't entirely like that—" 

"I distinctly remember you saying, and i quote, what do i do now, Joon, my future is over." He states dramatically, voice disgustingly sweet and high pitched as he mocks you.

You stare at him, frozen and absolutely horrified. "I was vulnerable." 

Namjoon hums, and you let yourself fall backwards dramatically against the couch cushions, throwing an arm over your face as if that's enough to physically protect yourself from embarrassment and humiliation. 

It doesn't, of course. Because nothing ever really preserves you from embarrassment when it's Kim Namjoon you're talking about.

A comfortable silence settles into the living room, allowing you drown yourself inside the small indicators of life around you. You can hear his keyboard clicking softly as he keeps working on something you have no idea about, the occasional scratch of the ceramic mug against the wood table, the faint jazz pieces playing from the speakers hidden somewhere further inside the apartment. And just as you were about to part your lips and make a comment on how his furniture is so outdated, he beats you to it.

"Oh." 

Your arm slowly lowers from your face, eyes squinting and peaking above it. "What?" 

"Are you still helping Mark with that project?" 

Oh yourself.

Everything in you physically stills, slowly and painfully, like dread is begging to be felt properly until your bones ache and sizzle with the weight of it. Because you— catastrophically, miserably, terribly; had forgotten all about it. Not in a small, oops, i should probably text him back way either. No, you had forgotten in a way that bordered on a severe case of friendship betrayal and negligence. 

You close your eyes, inhaling a long breath. "Hypothetically speaking…" 

Namjoon finally looks up. "You forgot, didn't you?"

You did, and of course he notices. Because if Kim Namjoon has spent four years studying journalism, he has spent six studying you.

Namjoon had become one of those people that had entered your life quietly yet stayed just as loudly, making himself impossible to imagine a life without in absolutely no time. Just like wine or Wave or the concerning amount of mediocre sex you've been having since your last boyfriend. 

You had met him during the first few weeks of your freshman year when he was already a junior and head editor of the university journal. Back then, he existed in your head less as a person and more as a terrifying academic urban legend you'd never admit looking up to. But you didn't have to admit it out loud, because even the older students spoke about him with an obnoxious amount of respect.

You hated him. 

But obviously, that didn't last long. As you kept sharing nights filled with stories, words and worlds no one knew existed besides the two of you, he started to matter. He'd remembered your exam dates, bought you coffee during finals, edited your essays at three in the morning. He'd answer your phone calls involving emotional breakdowns over electives and boys and broken sink pipes, then solve whatever crisis you were having in little to no time. 

So naturally, somewhere along the way, your editor had turned into an older brother and became annoyingly good at reading you— so much that you're sure he keeps a version of you that's all bare and vulnerable somewhere hidden in his furthest drawers.

Because he knows you. Good enough to notice the tiny moments where Wave feels a little too personal. To notice the way that sometimes, your thesis blurs into the rest of your life and you get caught up in the gravity of it all, so much that the project you'd promised to help with weeks ago somehow slips away from your mind despite Mark being one of your dearest friends. 

Because Namjoon doesn't forget, and Mark will definitely kill you if you don't show up at his studio with breakfast and two cups coffee by tomorrow morning. 

Musicians who are brave enough to lay their souls open between rhymes and harmonies have always felt intimate.

Music is vulnerable, always has been. Everyone knows that. But there is something utterly naked and personal beyond the in reach vulnerability of it all. 

It's the little things.

The version of them that existed on a random Tuesday in October, the argument they never really recovered from yet still shaped them into whoever they are today. The person they almost loved, the one they did love…They leave pieces of themselves behind between late nights and early mornings, and it never matters whether it's accidental or not. Because everything they touch transitions into something that carries their traces and that's enough to feel their souls on top of your own.

And, i think, that truly sums up Mark Lee as a person. 

Because Mark has always felt like someone composed of the little things. He'd attach songs to memories you won't realize matters until months later, respond to texts even if it wakes him up from his sweetest dreams. He'd turn feelings into poems and records then archive them in anything that's permanent. 

In college, people tend to think popularity belongs to the loudest person in the room. But despite being loved through the depths of the ocean until the very end of Milky Way, Mark Lee has never really been loud.

Just unforgettable. 

Three days later, you find yourself standing outside of Mark's studio with two iced coffees in one hand and a kind of resentment that's loud yet entirely unserious in the other. Because Mark has spent the last forty eight hours guilt tripping you through frantic phone calls and dramatic text messages. And you, for some reason, can not for the life of you bring yourself accept the fact that you've forgotten your promise and properly apologize.

At least you got the coffees. 

You push the studio door open without knocking, because Mark has never once respected your privacy and therefore doesn't exactly deserve it in return. As the door falls unleashed and sunlight spills until it drapes over you in a golden glow, there are a few things you expect. A Justin Bieber song Justin Bieber himself has probably forgotten about, unfinished coffees and half empty beer bottles scattered around the room, maybe even his ex girlfriend lounging somewhere in the corner because you're almost entirely certain Mark would slip straight back into her heart if she ever left it even slightly open. 

But Jeon Jungkook is not one of them.

He's sitting besides the mixing desk, leaned back comfortably in his chair wearing a black hoodie with headphones hanging around his neck, one leg bouncing lazily beneath the table while he scrolls through something on his phone.

He looks up from the screen when the weight of your presence becomes impossible to ignore. He blinks once, twice, then smiles. 

Shit, he has dimples.

"Well," Jungkook says slowly, leaning back further into the chair as he drags his eyes over you. "This just got better than i expected." 

Your reply comes immediately. "No." 

Jungkook blinks, eyes widening just slightly. "I…didn't even say anything." 

"You thought of it." 

He cocks a brow. "Thought of what?" 

You roll your eyes, dropping your purse onto the table before leaning your hip against it. "You know what." You say, and he silently stares at you for a second longer before the corner of his mouth starts twitching. 

This doesn't make sense. Not at all. 

Because certain people feel attached to certain places long before they step into them. Mark belongs in studios and beneath the stars and somewhere right in the middle of your heart. Namjoon belongs beneath the warmth of yellow kitchen lights and homes that silence everything else until it's quieter than the rest of the world. Miyeon belongs anywhere between flowers and pretty cafes that somehow never match up to her beauty. 

And Jungkook…Jungkook belongs beneath flashing lights that paint his features in colors that would look good on nobody but him. He belongs in crowded spaces and with girls who lean in a little too close whenever he speaks. He belongs anywhere loud and alive.

Just not here. Because music feels too intimate for him somehow. 

"You know." He says after a moment, still smiling. "I thought there was a chance i imagined you." 

You let out a low chuckle, crossing your arms over your chest after placing the coffees onto the table. "That's a little dramatic." 

"I'm being dead serious." 

"Well, you approached me." You say, tilting your head slightly, letting your eyes drift over him before they return back to his face. "And you don't seem to have that strong of an imagination."

"You're mean."

You groan playfully, leaning your hip against the armrest of his chair. "That's so not true." 

A small smirk plays out on his lips. "Good thing i like my girls with a little attitude." 

Pardon? Your girls?

"You're being very brave today." 

Jungkook stares at you for a second, tongue pressing against the inside of his cheek in a way that's not rude, just playful enough to carry traces of something cocky beneath it. He lets the silence melt and sit right in the middle of your bodies for a beat too long, then speaks.

"You're flirting with me right now." 

Your head snaps towards him immediately, and you almost choke on your own saliva. Not because you're shocked. How can you be when he has built a whole persona on candied words and pretty girls and an ego that's definitely bigger than what's between his legs. It's because he says it so easily, and you hate that. 

So no, absolutely not. You, flirting with Jungkook? No way in hell. 

You narrow your eyes. "No, I'm not." 

"Mhm." He hums, swinging left and right in his seat with a growing grin on his face. 

Okay, no. That's enough. You're not doing this any longer. You don't want Jeon fucking Jungkook to think he has a chance at having you naked and open and wide on his stupid iron man mattress. You don't want to demonstrate the size of his cock with your hands when Miyeon asks on girls night, and you most definitely don't want Mark walking in on you bickering like two horny teenagers with the self control of fucking rabbits in heat. 

So you change the subject. 

"You sing?" Brilliant. 

And peculiarly, his smile softens a little at your question. Not drastically, not enough for the entire room to shift and bend around him until it's his breath only you're drowning inside. But it's enough. Enough for you to notice the way something gentler briefly peeks through before hiding again. And you, for some reason, find yourself reaching over and folding it carefully to hide somewhere safe amongst all the other precious details people accidentally leave behind. Somewhere only you carry the map of and know how to find again. 

Jungkook glances up. "Sometimes." 

Sometimes. 

It's funny how he says it, like it matters too much that his tongue can not carry the weight of it, so he just shrugs it off like it's anything. Sometimes, he says. As if Mark would ever involve someone who does it just whenever. As if Mark would ever reach for something that's sitting right in middle of his soul and hand out a piece of it to just anyone. 

"You look judgemental." He adds.

You shrug. "I'm just surprised." 

Jungkook's eyebrows lift at your answer, like he knows there is another thought sitting beneath it, quietly waiting for the permission to exit. But before he can get the chance to ask about it further, the studio door suddenly swings open. 

Mark walks into the room with an amount of rush that should be concerning for this time of the morning. His hair is messy, bag is tucked beneath his arm and an iced americano is trying to balance clumsily between his fingers as he tries finding a place to squeeze himself in.

"Okay, first of all. Traffic should be considered the worse case of masochism the human kind has done to itself." Mark rambles, barely waiting for the door to close behind him before speaking, words tumbling out of his mouth in consecutive complaints. 

"And you," He kicks the door shut with his foot before continuing, pointing a finger at you. "After forty eight hours of emotional neglect, show up with iced lattes? I don't drink lattes. That's for pussies who don't understand coffee." 

You roll your eyes. "I do something nice and you still complain." 

"You completely forgot me and brought coffee out of guilt."

You pause, looking down at the table before speaking again. "It's still coffee."

Jungkook laughs quietly besides you before Mark cuts in again. "Okay, so basically," He breathes, gesturing around the room. "This is my senior project, the one I told you about three weeks ago and you forgot because you apparently don't care about me anymore. It's a short film of my album with a narrative concept." He turns to Jungkook. "He's singing." 

Your eyes drift around in silence, taking in the headphones and the sheets filled with lyrics and the fucking sometimes he threw at you as if it meant nothing.

"And you," Mark angles his body towards you. "Are helping with the writing." 

"Mark," You argue, because what can you possibly be writing? Music? You don't do music. You write people, you write anything between stories and analysis but not music.

"Don't Mark me right now. You agreed to this weeks ago." He says as he rolls his eyes, chugging down his coffee. "The story. You're writing the narrative and the emotional structure, obviously."

Oh. Right. 

Because of course Mark wouldn't just make music. No, he has always been incapable of touching one art form without dragging five others to it. Because Mark Lee is a man of passion and he won't do anything without making it entirely his. 

"Apparently you said music without context feels lonely to Yoongi's trap arrangement last week." Jungkook says without really looking at you, swinging mindlessly in his chair. 

Your head snaps towards him. "How do you know that?"

Jungkook blinks once, like he hadn't expected to say that out loud yet did anyway. His eyes flicker between you and Mark before he collects himself back together and shrugs casually. "Mark talks about you." 

That's…annoyingly sweet of him. 

"You talk about me?" You coo with a voice disgustingly candied, head tilted as you reach for Mark's arm. 

"Oh my god." Mark groans dramatically, but he doesn't pull his arm away. "No, because Jungkook, don't let her fool you. She acts all nice and sweet then suddenly you're buying her food and driving her to places." 

You open your mouth immediately, ready to defend yourself. You turn towards Jungkook, response already on the tip of your tongue, ready to be spilled— only to stop.

Because Jungkook is already looking at you. Not in a weird way, not in the way boys usually look at pretty girls when they think nobody is noticing. Just…gentle. His smile is still there, only now it has grown and molded into something smaller. The kind that doesn't really ask for attention, the kind that simply stays there because it wants to. His eyes feel softer too, like's he's really listening, sitting through the spaces of your presence until he feels it permanently engraved into his mind.

It feels a little precarious. 

And perhaps the most annoying thing about Jungkook is that the disappointment never really arrives.

Because eventually, the conversation shifts and folds itself until time starts passing in a kind of haziness where it melts into something thinner. Mark disappears into one of his passionate spirals regarding symbolism and the basics of music theory and you somehow find a way to contribute just as passionately despite not exactly having the qualifications to do so. 

That's normal. That doesn't surprise you, it has happened enough times to not be the slightest of a deal. But Jungkook, Jungkook surprises you. 

Maybe not dramatically, maybe not in ways worth writing Wave articles about. It's the little things, tiny things that somehow fill in the entire space and make their way into the dearest corners of your heart. 

Like how he listens with his entire body, the way he turns towards whoever it is that's speaking and stays there, like he genuinely thinks people deserve to be heard all the way through. The way he never interrupts Mark despite the fact that Mark tends to over explain things as if he himself personally invented art and human emotion. The way he nods along quietly, asks questions at exactly the right moments without ever interjecting anyone and reaches over to hand you your drink when you start looking for it. 

And somewhere in the middle of the complexity of it all, Jungkook sings. 

Mark points towards the recording booth in the middle of his nth rant today, and Jungkook pushes himself up from the couch besides you with a small sigh before disappearing behind the glass doors of the booth. And for some reason, your eyes follow him through each passing second, because simply standing behind a microphone with overhead headphones should not look this different on somebody. 

Because suddenly, he's stripped out of everything you've subconsciously built for him. And for some stupid, sick, twisted reason, Jungkook looks ridiculously hot like this. 

He adjusts the headphones over his ears before leaning towards the microphone slightly, eyes lowering as Mark presses something on the screen. 

His voice happens a beat of two after the music starts, and it happens big. Like waves crashing into rocks, like starts falling down the sky, like spring melting into summer and summer clashing against fall. 

It's stupid. 

He's not bad, god, you wish he was bad. No, not at all. Because Jungkook sings exactly the way the listens. Softly, fully, like he throws himself into it before realizing he's doing it. Like somewhere in the middle of every rhyme and every note and every breath, there are pieces of him patiently waiting to be discovered. 

You understand why Mark chose him. 

Jungkook drops beside you onto the couch with a tired groan after Mark decides he's poured enough of his soul for today, and you find your eyes grazing over him as he scrolls through something on his phone. 

"You're staring." Jungkook says, not even looking up from his phone.

You blink. Fuck. "Excuse me?" 

He hums, lips twitching beyond his control. "Mhm." 

You angle your body a little more towards him. "I literally wasn't." 

He nods, still not looking at you, but he's still smiling. 

You stare at his profile for a little longer as Mark works over the keyboard in silence, then find the words escaping your mouth before you can hold them in. "You sound different when you sing." You say quietly. 

Jungkook stills a little. Just a tiny, little falter that happens in his body. His eyes lift slowly from the screen, then catch yours before speaking. "Different?" He asks.

You shrug immediately, trying to fold the conversation into something drastically more casual. "Just less annoying." 

Jungkook laughs, shoulders shaking beside you. "Less annoying." He repeats, grin growing. 

You roll your eyes immediately. "Don't let it get to your head." 

"You know," He says after letting a beat pass, and you turn your head back towards him. "You say very mean things for someone who can't seem to stop staring." 

Your brows lift in offense. "I do not stare." 

He blinks. "You do." 

You scoff. "You're delusional." 

Jungkook hums softly. "Earlier, when Mark was talking—" 

You don't let him speak. At least, you try. "No."

"And then when i was recording—" 

"Jeon." 

He's fully smiling now, like he's getting the most ridiculous amount enjoyment he possibly can get from this. You stare at him in silence, lips parted and expression faltered. Jungkook stares right back at you, that stupid smile never really leaving from his lips. And for some sick and twisted reason, your stomach does a tiny little flip that irritates you through the entirety of your skin and bones. 

Then, as if god has finally acknowledged the depths of your suffering, Mark cuts in exactly at the right time. "Oh my god." He gasps. 

Jungkook blinks from next to you, gaze drifting onto him. "What?" 

Mark doesn't respond for a moment, and that's deeply concerning for a man who'd speak even at the verge of death.

You slowly sit up. "Mark?" 

His frozen state continues for a beat longer before he suddenly springs up from his chair. "No no no." 

"What's wrong?" Jungkook asks as his brows pull together, leaning onto his knees. 

"I," Mark starts, looking down at his feet before he slowly, dreadfully searches for your eyes. "I'm late." 

Jungkook scrunches his nose. "You're late for what?"

Your eyes widen when the realization slowly stretches then breaks through you. "Oh my god." You breathe dramatically. 

"Stop saying oh my god!" Jungkook snaps, thoroughly lost. 

Mark closes his eyes, taking in a long, guilty breath. "I'm supposed to be meeting up with Yerin." 

Jungkook's phone falls onto the couch. "You're meeting your ex?"

"You're late to meeting your ex." You correct. "And you're wearing that?"

Mark looks down, eyes taking in the gray sweatpants and the black hoodie he has worn so much it's practically another color now. "Oh my god." 

He quickly gathers up his belongings, then slings his bag over his shoulder before making his way to the door. He's able to take approximately three steps before he suddenly stops, and slowly, very slowly, turns to you.

"Can i take your car?" 

You blink a few times before responding. "Absolutely not." 

"Please," He begs, bending above his knees with impatience. "Please, I'll do anything. Imagine if she thinks i stood her up. She's going to leave me for good this time and I'll be left to crumble and die in my own sorrow." 

After two or five separate sequences of long inhales and deep consideration, you give in. "If you scratch it, I'll kill you."

He runs over to you fast. "Thank you, thank you. Oh my god, i love you." 

"Okay, okay. Stop." Before you even get the chance to return his hug, he's already grabbing your keys and shoving it into his bag. Jungkook stares from besides you silently until the very last second of Mark's departure, then bursts into laughter the moment the door closes shut. 

"Stop." 

"I'm trying." Jungkook says between fractions of laughter. 

You sigh. "No you're not." 

"I'm literally trying my hardest." 

Liar.

Because now, he's laughing properly and somehow it's the prettiest thing you've heard all week, minus his singing— which is a whole another problem of its own— and you feel yourself physically falter at the sound of it. 

You stare at him for a minute longer before eventually drifting your eyes towards the studio doors instead. It's irritating how you're now painfully aware of everything else all over again. Spring air brushing softly against your skin through the window, the distant sound of laughter and conversation somewhere across campus, the way Jungkook is seated close enough that if you shift half an inch closer your shoulders would probably brush. 

"So," Jungkook has finally, and thankfully, stopped laughing. Though the smile is still sitting there loosely. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out his keys, swinging them around his finger. "Guess I'm driving you home." 

You were about to mindlessly give into defeat when suddenly, you remember one, tiny little detail. 

Jungkook doesn't have a car.

You breathe slowly. "You ride that stupid motorcycle." 

His brows lift immediately. "That stupid motorcycle?" 

Your lips part, then close again when he cuts you off, lips twitching cockily. "You remember."

You scoff loudly. "You spent like twenty minutes talking about it." 

"Mhm." 

"And your personality is unfortunately very loud." 

"Mhm." He hums, tucking his phone into the back pocket of his jeans as he mindlessly collects his things. "You remember." He repeats with a growing grin.

"Stop saying that." You complain, following him behind through the door. 

And ten minutes later, you hate yourself. 

Genuinely.

Because now, you're standing outside beneath spring air and bright streetlights while Jungkook straddles his motorcycle like this isn't singlehandedly the worst thing that has ever happened to you. 

Because suddenly you're surrounded by things you've never considered before. Like leather jackets and silver rings and tattooed biceps you want to suffocate and die inside. 

You don't tell him that, of course. 

He glances at you over his shoulder before slipping on his helmet. "You coming?" 

There is a moment where he is met with a complete, utter silence. Because, first of all, you've never been on a motorcycle before. And second of all, there is a very physical, very obvious problem with motorcycles. 

Where the fuck are your hands supposed to go? 

Jungkook watches the way something between conflict and irritation flashes across your features, expression faltering slowly. He pauses along with you, then smiles knowingly. "You've never been on one." 

And the way he says it is absolutely stupid. Because he doesn't ask, it's not a question. He has somehow read you devastatingly well and has made a statement about it. One that is entirely correct. 

"I have not." 

"And you're scared." 

Excuse you? 

You blink. "Scared?" 

Jungkook says nothing, then places both of his legs on the sides of the vehicle as he patiently waits for you. You stare at him for long enough, then with the amount of dignity one can preserve in situations involving pussy clenching tattoos and massive biceps, you walk over. 

"Need help?" Jungkook asks as you struggle deciding how to position yourself. 

You shake your head immediately. "No." 

Lies.

Because an entire thirty seconds later, you're still trying to figure out how people get on these things without publicly humiliating themselves. 

"You know," He starts carefully, voice softer now." "I can help."

You look up slowly. "How?" 

"Come here." 

Your eyebrows pull together. "What kind of instruction is that?" 

He sighs softly, calling your name. And for some stupid reason, the way your name rolls and falls out of his mouth does something irritating to your nervous system. 

You hate that. 

Because suddenly, the air feels warmer than it did thirty minutes ago. Because suddenly, he is patiently looking at you with those pretty brown eyes of his and the space between you feels so small that the lack of distance physically blows your breath away. 

He holds a hand out towards you. "Come here." He repeats. 

You stare at his hand, then at him, then back at his hand. And for reasons you will absolutely be denying later, you place your hand in his.

Jungkook's fingers close around yours immediately. Warm, firm and unreasonably effortless, as if he doesn't even think about the action twice. 

He gently guides you forward and suddenly you're standing between his arms for one devastating second too long as he explains something about where to place your foot and how to balance and honestly—

Honestly, you don't hear a single fucking word. 

Because Jungkook is standing too close. Because his voice is low and his presence is warm. Because somewhere above you, he quietly lets out that sweet laugh again and you think that's the exact moment you realize this might be becoming a bigger problem than you ever thought. 

"You listening?" He asks. 

No, you're not. Not even a little.

Some men are just plain irritating.

The kind of men who make you think you're special after two dates. The kind of men who act as if their love and desire for you is past the lethal dose, long sitting far away from what's acceptable after taking you out for one drink. 

They start remembering your birthday, then your coffee order, and then the stories you tell absentmindedly. They pay attention in all the ways that matter until suddenly, they don't. 

They start disappearing slowly. Late responses transition into cancelled dates and cancelled dates drag over white lies and empty promises. And before you know it— they're gone. 

Some people become memories and some people insist on staying as habits. Unfortunately for Kim Yugyeom, habits are significantly harder to quit.

Campus looks a little prettier at night, with string lights tangled carelessly around trees to soften the sharp corners of concrete sidewalks and buildings that usually look painfully monotone and disgustingly gray beneath daylight. Music that's floating around blends into laughter and conversations until everything feels like it's dipped into something warmer, casting the green scenery in a dimly golden hue.

People become prettier at night too. Like darkness reaches over to soften and hide all the sharp edges daylight stubbornly insists on exposing. You think it has something to do with poor lighting and the desire to dress each other up in a way that's aligned with our own fucked up fantasies, but that doesn't change the fact that you'd much rather time stops at nine in the evening instead of morning.

Miyeon walks beside you with a cup of vodka and something fruity in her hand, complaining passionately about one of her professors as if he has something personal against her and is failing her out of spite. When, in reality, she has been way too caught up in toxic ex boyfriend drama and seasonal depression.

Anyone who says spring depression is not real is lying. Because your best friend has been going through one for the entirety of march and april and may and you're not sure if it'll pass by july.

But it's fine. You love her and Mark loves her and you're sure she will be fine. Yeah, maybe Yugyeom is six feet tall with a face carefully structured by the higher powers above us. But he's utterly stupid and completely undeserving of the crazy stupid love provided by your gorgeous best friend.

"No because explain to me why participation counts in my grade." Miyeon complains beside you, taking another sip of her drink as if she has the attendance and exam results to cover up the mess caused by her miserable participation grade. 

You blink. "Because participating matters?" 

Miyeon stops walking like you've offended her beyond all measure, then turns to you very slowly. "The institution has corrupted you." 

You let out a laugh immediately, shoulder bumping against hers as the crowd thickens around you. "Maybe your GPA is a little important and passing isn't always enough." You add with a playful smile. 

"You've changed." 

"Okay." You drag out the word until she physically can not hear anything after the o.

"Namjoon did this to you. You were fun and sexy until junior year and now you're a disgusting hard copy of that man." 

You scoff. "Leave Namjoon out of this." 

Instead of responding to you, Miyeon narrows her eyes through the crowd before you can properly defend both yourself and Namjoon's imaginary honor. Your eyes follow her line of sight without thinking too much of it, and you still just a second after Miyeon does. 

Because standing near one of the food trucks with drinks sat carelessly in their hands are Mingyu and Jaehyun. But that's not the point, Mingyu and Jaehyun are fine, you've actually shared that infamous econ elective with Jaehyun during junior year and he surprisingly turned out to be sweet and worth a couple hours of your precious time. 

Jungkook, on the other hand, is not ideal. But not ideal is also fine, you can bear with non ideal to an extent. What's thoroughly, completely, utterly impossible, is Yugyeom.

God truly does not love you. 

Miyeon physically freezes besides you. And, I repeat, she doesn't subtly falter. She stills. 

Then, Jungkook looks up at exactly the wrong moment, finding your eyes and catching them in air before anyone else gets the chance to steal them away. His eyebrows lift slightly in amusement before a smile slowly spreads across his face, and it feels a little concerning the way he does it. Because Jungkook smiles like he means it. Like the smile happens to him before he can realize and reconsider. 

His line of sight is followed before any of you can do anything about it. It starts with Mingyu, then Jaehyun. Which is fine, because we've already established that Mingyu and Jaehyun are harmless. 

But Yugyeom? Not even close. 

"Oh no." Mingyu says the moment he spots you. And honestly? Very fair reaction. 

Because unfortunately, Kim Yugyeom has always had an exceptional talent for creating versions of Miyeon you hate. 

Jaehyun lifts his drink awkwardly. "Hi?" Very brave of him. Very brave.

Miyeon smiles immediately, too animated and too polite, before you can even think of interfering and softening the impact of it all. 

"Hi Jaehyun." She says, tone too normal despite the situation.

"Miyeon," Yugyeom greets, voice casual and light like her name belongs naturally inside his mouth. Fucking hypocrite.

"You cut your hair." 

No.

No, you're not doing this right now. Absolutely not. Because, okay, first of all, what kind of thing is that to say to your ex girlfriend of two whole years? And the worse part of it all? Miyeon cut her hair three months ago. Three, entire, months.

Yugyeom blinks one whole minute after the words leave his mouth when no one responds to him, like the sentence leaves his mouth and arrives back to him sixty seconds later. But it's already late for realization. Too fucking late. 

A long silence passes, and you feel it physically sizzle and slice right through the surface of your skin. "Right." Miyeon mutters a beat later, and you close your eyes with a long, suffering inhale. 

Somewhere in the middle of the discomfort settling over everybody like a layer of second skin, you catch movement from the corner of your eye as if the situation isn't terrible enough. 

Jungkook, of course, is already looking at you. Because he seems to have made it into a habit. 

Miyeon laughs beside you. "Three months, by the way." 

Yugyeom falters. "What?" 

"My hair," She starts, letting her eyes drag over him. "I cut it three months ago." 

It's a little funny now. You know, the entirety of the situation. You do everything in your power to not stare at the two of them, gaze drifting around your surroundings instead. And it turns out that you, as of right now, are not the smartest person in the room. Because across from you, Mingyu suddenly becomes deeply interested in the swirl of his drink, and Jaehyun seems to be counting the birds in the sky. Jungkook? That, you don't know. Because you're sure he's still looking at you and that's the second thing your eyes are trying to avoid. 

"Right." Yugyeom says again, like saying right enough times might eventually make the situation right, even though it won't. Because none of you are stupid— well, except for Yugyeom himself, it seems. 

Then, Mingyu suddenly claps his hands once, and the sound echoes so much louder than he intended it to. "Okay!" He exclaims with an amount of enthusiasm that should genuinely award him an Emmy. "Amazing! Love this energy. It's so deeply casual." 

Miyeon laughs again, a little softer than the one she let escape minutes ago. It's not enough to bounce and spill and take over the atmosphere the way it usually does. But for now, it's enough to let you breathe.

"Sorry," She says through another laugh, shaking her head. "No because, you're unbelievable." 

Yugyeom squints. "What did i even do?" 

You scoff. Obviously, that's not surprising. Kim Yugyeom deserves a hundred more of those. But Mingyu and Jaehyun scoff along with you. And, oh, Jungkook too. 

Maybe society has hope after all. 

That's when you stop keeping up with their conversation, because their steps slowly get closer and closer to each other and farther and farther away from you until the volume of their voices lower down enough and exist only for the two of them.

Not that you're complaining. Not at all. You're thoroughly relieved and you do not want to hear another word of this pointless conversation.

Mingyu leans over and lowers his height next to you. "How traumatized are we?" 

You laugh, relaxing a little. "A solid eight out of ten." 

He places a hand over his chest dramatically. "Thank god." He exhales. "For a second i thought i was alone in this." 

You laugh again, and peculiarly, somewhere in the middle of cheap drinks and Mingyu defending his dignity like his life depends on it, your shoulders begin dropping one by one.

Everything softens after that.

Mingyu gets distracted after spotting somebody from one of his classes and suddenly starts passionately discussing basketball statistics with Jaehyun. Miyeon and Yugyeom slowly become figurines in your peripheral vision— still there, still existing, but further now. And somehow, Jungkook ends up right besides you. 

Maybe not intentionally, maybe not obviously— but he does. It happens in that natural way he seems to be very adamant on keeping recently. 

You become aware of him in pieces. The warmth of his shoulder besides yours, the sound of his laugh whenever Mingyu says something ridiculous, the traces of alcohol and masculine cologne in his scent whenever wind shifts in your direction…Tiny, stupid things people leave behind accidentally.

And unfortunately, you've spent your entire life collecting them. 

"You're less guarded tonight." 

You blink, then turn around slowly, eyes locking with Jungkook who is looking at you over the rim of his drink, a smile sitting loosely against his mouth.

"I'm always like this." 

Jungkook lets something between a breathy laugh and a scoff through his lips. "Liar." 

You roll your eyes. "You think you've got me all figured out." 

He shrugs. "I just pay attention to you sometimes."

Fucking flirt. 

You're only half listening to Mingyu's latest spiral on getting cheated on with a girl when Jungkook's phone vibrates against the grass. Jungkook glances down, picks the phone up, then groans when he reads whatever text that has been sent to him.

"What?" You ask.

"Mark," 

Your brows pull together in confusion. "What did he do?" 

Jungkook lets his head fall back slightly. "He forgot the hard drive at the studio." 

Jungkook stares at his phone for a beat longer, exhales, then turns towards you. "Come with me." 

And he is met with silence. Because for a moment, for a long, dreadful sixty seconds, silence surrounds you too. Music still continues behind you but it feels distant now. People laugh, lights glow, but all of it feels very far away. Solely because of the way he says it.

Because Jungkook doesn't ask. No do you want to come? No you can if you want. He just tells you to come with him as if he already knows the answer. 

You narrow your eyes, trying to play it off. "Is that confidence i'm seizing?"

"No." He says, smile growing into something gentler. "I think it's hope." 

Oh.

Jungkook pushes himself up from the grass, then extends his hand towards you. Not dramatically, not enough to create a whole deal out of it, but enough for your eyes to drop down to it automatically then back to him as if a hundred different scenarios have just flashed across your mind. 

You take his hand. 

By the time you reach the studio, you're a little warm. Not because of walking, not because of the weather, but because of something you absolutely can not say out loud. 

Jungkook pushes the door open, then lets you walk in first. Warm light spills through the room and reaches straight into your pupils the moment you step in, and you physically have to tap your thigh twice to recollect yourself back together. 

Space feels a little different when it's just the two of you. 

Jungkook walks ahead towards the mixing desk, still looking through his phone. "Mark said he left his hard drive somewhere." 

You hum, eyes drifting around. But it all feels absent, a little pointless. Because you're painfully aware of the tiny things all over again. Jungkook pushing his sleeves up, the way strands of hair falls into his eyes, how the sound of his voice fills in the empty room…

Maybe it's the alcohol, maybe it's exhaustion, or maybe it's the way spring nights make people a little delirious. Stupid pollens.

You let a quiet breath escape and turn away before your brain decides to become any more humiliating than it already has tonight. "How does a music major forget a hard drive?" You ask, voice bouncing a little too loudly through the empty studio.

Jungkook shrugs. "It's Mark." 

Fair.

You snort quietly and drift towards the couch instead, letting yourself drop against the cushions while Jungkook continues opening drawers and moving papers around an unnecessary amount of concentration. 

For a minute, for the short time being, neither of you says anything. And maybe that's your first mistake. Because lately, silence with Jungkook has become as dangerous as vodka on an empty stomach.

Your eyes lift before you can stop them. That's definitely your second mistake. 

Because Jungkook had pushed his sleeves higher at some point and now his forearms are exposed beneath the dim lights of the studio and you miserably need those long, tattooed fingers curling inside your pussy. 

He crouches beside the desk, pushing his hair back before another strand immediately falls over his forehead again. "Found it." He says, and your head snaps back up.

Jungkook, unfortunately, is already looking at you. Not at the hard drive, not at the desk, just you. And for a second, neither of you says anything. Because maybe this is one of those moments where silence becomes too delicate for words. Moments that sit so carefully between people that speaking feels like touching glass with bare hands.

Your stomach tightens embarrassingly beneath your ribs as Jungkook's eyes drag all over you before they settle and stay on your face. He takes a step closer, then another, and then speaks softly. "What?"

Your brows pull together despite yourself. "What what?"

A smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. "You keep staring." He says, voice lower now. 

"And you don't?" You reply, voice barely above a whisper as you rise up to your feet. 

"I do." Jungkook replies. There is barely an inch between your bodies now, his breath hot and heavy on your skin. "But i don't lie about it, pretty girl." 

Your entire body stiffens at that. But it's not the pretty girl, not at all. It's the way he says it. Because Jungkook doesn't rush you, he never does. He doesn't smirk, doesn't tease. Just stays there looking and waiting. Like he is giving you room, like stepping away is still an option. 

And the worst part is, you don't want to step away. 

Silence stretches and stretches until it begins feeling alive. His eyes drop down to your lips, then lifts back up. For one devastating second, Jungkook looks at you like he is trying to memorize something. Like he's collecting little things too. 

His hand lifts, thumb softly tracing over the line of your jaw. "I've been patient for so long." He speaks over your lips. "And i know you feel it too. But i need to hear your words if you really want this to happen." 

Your breath catches and flips over halfway through your throat, chest rising and falling in a slow, heavy rhythm. "Jungkook," 

"Tell me," He starts, thumb stopping by the bottom of your lip. "If you want me as bad as i want you. Because— fuck, I've been good, i've been patient but i'm terribly desperate and i need to know if you are too."

"Please," You try, but you've already stopped thinking altogether. 

"Please what, baby? I need you to use your words."

"Kiss me." You fit the entire weight of those words in a tiny little breath and Jungkook's lips are on yours in an instant. 

The kiss starts out slow, his lips moving against yours gently as if he is savoring every ounce of its taste on the farthest corners of his tongue. Your hands find the nape of his neck, pulling and pressing him closer until distance can't bear existing anymore. 

Jungkook's hands drop down to your waist, tugging you closer so that your hips clash against his. You whimper into his mouth, and he swallows it without wasting a single second. 

Because Jungkook has been waiting.

This isn't what the does, not at all. Jungkook has never been a patient man. Not with desire, not with girls. He takes and gets taken in blinks and fractions and seconds— easy, casual, weightless. 

But you, you've turned into something devastatingly different. Because for weeks now Jungkook has been wanting without touching, looking without taking— ever since you laughed and rolled your eyes prettily at Yugyeom's party that night. He has spent nights thinking about your lips, mornings replaying the sound of your laugh and entire conversations searching for traces of hidden meanings beneath your words like a man slowly losing his goddamn mind. 

Jungkook doesn't wait. He doesn't ache over girls. He doesn't sit awake late at night remembering the way they looked at him beneath dim studio lights or think about the possibility of their hands touching his. But with you— fuck. 

With you, he has become unbearably aware of himself. You've made him patient in the cruelest way possible. Because now he notices everything and god, the pretending has been killing him. 

And now you're kissing him back as if you've been just as gone. And that thought alone is enough to fold and mold his brain into something disgustingly mushy and achingly dizzy.

"More," You moan between kisses, body practically begging for his touch. 

Jungkook's stomach flips upside down. "Yeah? Want more, pretty? Want me to touch you?" He squeezes the plump meat of your ass through your jeans, and your hips jerk into his with the feeling. 

His hands roam all over your body before stopping right at the hem of your top. His fingers fiddle with the fabric before he pulls away to look at you properly, and you give him your consent dressed up as a weak nod. 

Jungkook pulls your tank top over your head, eyes stuck on the way your boobs bounce beneath the lace of your bra with the movement. He physically, loudly, groans at the sight before plastering wet, open mouthed kisses on the soft skin. Your head falls back in pleasure, hands tangling in his soft locks. Jungkook pushes his head further into your tits before he reaches over your back and unclasps your bra in one swift motion. 

Your ass hits the armrest of the leather couch when he lowers himself to take a nipple into his mouth, fingers toying with the other. You moan in short, consecutive whimpers as his tongue laps and flickers over the hardened nub, the wetness in your panties growing and growing. 

His cups your pussy over the your jeans, fingers pressing into your core over the fabric. The pressure is utterly mind blowing because the course denim stretches and digs into you further, causing you to cry out in pleasure. 

"Touch me properly, Jungkook." You force out, desperate to feel him on your bare skin. 

Jungkook scoffs between kisses. "Greedy, aren't you?" 

He unbuttons your jeans, fondling with the zipper for a beat too long before he can unzip and get you out of it. 

He pushes your panties aside with two fingers before sliding them into you. Your cunt sucks him in immediately, already way too wet and way too impatient for any form of foreplay. 

Jungkook tilts his head to look at the way his fingers are slipping in and out of you. "Shit, pretty. Look at that. You're gripping me." 

"Jungkook," You cry out, hands curling around his biceps for support. "Need— need your cock, please." 

He lifts his eyes up to look at your face properly, then sketches and carves every line of your expression onto the deepest corners of his heart. 

He slowly pulls out his fingers, then draws circles on your swollen clit before pulling away to take off his own clothes. His shirt flies away first, and you can't help but gawk at the bare sight of his chest. Arms, shoulders, abs— you're lucky if you don't cum right then and there. 

He gives you a small, knowing chuckle before unbuckling his belt, tossing the jeans somewhere across the room along with his boxers. Your lips are parted beyond your knowledge, eyes stuck on the hardened sight of his length. 

You've never seen a cock as pretty as that.

You're not sure if you'd ever even thought a cock was pretty— because usually, to you, they're far from that. But Jungkook, god, Jungkook is so fucking pretty with a tip so pink you think you want to suckle on it like a lollipop and a length so massive you desperately want it to choke you. 

You wouldn't be mad if your cause of death had suffocated on cock written on it all uppercase in bold letters. 

And Jungkook just laughs. He fucking laughs. 

"Don't worry, pretty. It's all yours." He says, kissing your lips once more before motioning to turn over. "Now turn around and bend over for me." He adds, pushing your back lightly so that you're completely bent over with both hands gripping on the armrest of the couch. 

Jungkook drags his tip across your folds, spreading your slick all over your cunt before he slowly pushes it in. You feel his tip first, letting you adjust to the stretch as he sucks in a sharp breath at the warmth of your walls. You moan loudly when he presses half of his cock into you, fingers firming around the cushion. 

"Oh god," You breathe, uncontrollably pushing your ass higher into the air. He slams in the rest of his length at your movement, and your back arches even deeper. "Fuck, Jungkook. You're so— so big. I can't."

"You can, princess. I know you can. You'll take every inch like a good girl. Gonna make me proud, aren't you?" 

He completely slides out out slowly, and before you can whine at the emptiness Jungkook slams himself back in. You moan loudly, head empty and thoroughly dizzy. 

Jungkook starts fucking into you, one had gripping firmly onto your waist as the other toys with your nipple from the back. He is filling you up so good you're going to lose your goddamn mind. You feel so full, stretched and stuffed to the fucking brim. Your walls suck him in desperately, walls clenching and tightening around his fat cock as he pounds into you recklessly.

"Yes, fuck. Wanna be good for you." You mutter messily as his thrusts get deeper and deeper, cock twitching inside your wetness. 

"I'm close." You breathe. 

"I've got you." He says, and you hate how assuring the words sound. 

You let yourself go just as he starts playing with your clit from behind, stimulating you as you milk your juices around his cock. He helps you ride out your high, chest pressing onto your back as he plasters small, reassuring kisses on your shoulder.

You feel physically nauseous at the domesticity. 

"Switch with me." You say after coming down from your orgasm, straightening as his cock slides out of you.

Jungkook's body falters, brows pulling together. "What?"

You roll your eyes, pulling away. "Sit, Jungkook." 

Jungkook somehow obeys without another word, dropping his body onto the couch beneath you. You hold his shoulders from above, placing your legs at both sides of his hips before reaching for his cock. 

Jungkook's breath stutters when you take him into your hand, pumping him a few times before aligning him with your entrance. You slowly sink down onto his length, and you both moan simultaneously when you take every inch of his dick into your pussy. 

"Shit," He moans, your name dancing prettily on his tongue. "You're so hot." 

His fingertips dig into the soft skin of your hips, head thrown back lazily as he moans through parted lips. You bounce on his dick with every ounce of energy that's left in you, thighs aching as he twitches inside your walls. 

Jungkook lifts his head a little to properly take in the sight of your bouncing tits, nearing his high. 

"Where do you want me?" He asks, voice low and breathy. Your stomach churns at the question, nails scratching his broad shoulders. 

"You can cum inside." 

He's going to die. He is going to fucking die but at least he'll die a proud man with his cum stuffed inside you. 

And just as Jungkook was about to close his eyes and release inside you, your phone rings.

His lips part to say something, but you beat him to it. "Just shut it off." 

Jungkook's hand weakly finds your phone, pressing the close button twice without looking at it. Of course he doesn't look, he'd be insane to drift his eyes away from the way your soft, perky tits are bouncing up and down in his own hold. But the ecstasy lasts so long as fifteen seconds until your phone rings again.

Jungkook flips it over this time. The name on your phone's screen flashes right through his eyes and he feels his heart stumble and drop straight into the rock bottom of his stomach

joon <3

would love to hear what you think <3

[luvismenu]

ೀ⋆｡˚ worst behavior — jeon jungkook , series , on-going

taglist form (closed) ! navi

. . summary: everyone knows you as the good girl / nerd. except you’re so fucking tired of that image. (and you’re also very… horny.) so when you decide to be bold and finally go after hoseok — things don’t really go as planned. instead, you end up tangled in a fake relationship with his best friend / campus favorite fuckboy ; jeon jungkook .

. . pairing: grumpy!oc x smug fuckboy!jk genre/tropes/au : smau + written , fake dating / fake relationship , slow burn , strangers to friends (a little bit of frenemies?¿) to fuckbuddies to lovers

. . warnings: no love triangle, university au, frat house / frat boys / frat parties, mentions of alcohol / smoking / drugs, alcohol consumption, bts members + side characters involved, fluff, humor / rom-com vibes, good girl gone bad, judgy!oc ; oc is lowk mean, fuckboy jungkook who’s full of himself, mutual pining, messy feelings, bad decisions, sexual tension, jealousy, misunderstanding, arguments, sexting, eventual written smut !

start: jan 6 / 2026 end: . . .

∘•···············•∘ʚ ♡ ɞ∘•················•∘

❝ index ;

𑣲 teaser

𑣲 ch: 01 been on my worst

𑣲 ch: 02 don't need no savior

𑣲 ch: 03 way outta line

𑣲 ch: 04 kinda like the way i feel

𑣲 ch: 05 don’t give a fuck

𑣲 ch: 06 i’ll be there in five

𑣲 ch: 07 talk too much

𑣲 ch: 08 show each other

𑣲 ch: 09 other ways to catch you up

𑣲 ch: 10 on the phone

𑣲 ch: 11 can you keep it secret?

𑣲 ch: 12 this time i know

𑣲 ch: 13 i’ll stay with you

𑣲 ch: 14 just promise you won't

𑣲 ch: 15 no pics, no postin’ us

𑣲 ch: 16 just in my nature

𑣲 ch: 17 to be a littlе troublemaker

𑣲 ch: 18 so wrong but so right

𑣲 ch: 19 you really likе the way i

𑣲 ch: 20 when we kiss

𑣲 ch: 21 you reminisce

𑣲 ch: 22 this ain’t the last time

𑣲 ch: 23 just stay by my side

𑣲 ch: 24 this ain’t no game

𑣲 ch: 25 won’t play with you

𑣲 ch: 26 this love just ain’t disposable

𑣲 ch: 27 just take what’s yours

𑣲 ch: 28 don’t run from it

𑣲 ch: 29 don’t you be actin' like that

𑣲 ch: 30 babe ♡

∘•···············•∘ʚ ♡ ɞ∘•················•∘

© 2026 luvi. all rights reserved.

[spideyjimin]

close your eyes (masterlist) | jjk

—  summary: you stopped expecting anything from love a long time ago. four years on your own taught you that much until you crossed paths with jungkook at yoongi’s birthday party. what begins as a chance encounter quickly becomes something real. and now, are you ready to close your eyes and trust him?

—  pairing: jungkook x fem. reader 

—  genre: strangers to lovers, ceo au, biker au, slow burn, angst, fluff, and smut

— total word count: around 40k in total

— author’s note: soo this happened... this started completely naturally, i never expected to write a fanfic this soon, but i've been having so much fun working on it, and i wanted to share it with you all 🥰 i'm still working on it, but as i've been writing a lot the past few days, i already know that by mid-may both parts will be over. jungkook was used as a visual only on the fic, as this had no chosen member at the beginning 🤗 i guess this puts some kind of an end to my hiatus (still not sure though), and i hope you'll enjoy this as much as i'm enjoying writing it ❤️ thank you so so much for your support guys!! means always so so much ❤️

18+ | warnings listed in each part

join the taglist ✨

PART I: release on Sunday 17th May 2026

⤷ meeting jungkook at yoongi’s birthday was unexpected, but in less than twenty-four hours, he made you feel more alive than you have in years. letting him into your life felt just natural, but that doesn’t mean it’s simple. as you slowly get to know him, you find yourself trusting him more… but should you really? or is he hiding something from you?

PART II: release on Sunday 24th May 2026

⤷ finding out about his secret from someone else hurts more than expected. you’ve always hated lies, and he knew it, which made it even harder. his intentions were never meant to hurt you; he just wanted to be seen for who he truly is. despite it all, your heart burns for him. you’ve never loved anyone this intensely, but are you truly ready to trust him again?  

[yoonfatuation]

you’re the worst. | preview

“Don’t you have like five different porn subscriptions?” With his crazy good looks and panty-dropper charms, your best friend in the whole wide world is a boss-level homme fatal, which is why you find it hoax level unbelievable when Jungkook declares he hasn’t had sex in three years. With all these people willing to sacrifice their firstborns just to spend one night with him, what can possibly be standing in his way?

jungkook x reader (f): friends to fwbs to lovers, smut, angst, slowburn

cw: no major warnings for the preview. see mlist for more info.

“THREE YEARS?!”

“Goddamn, your jaw didn’t drop this hard when I showed my sleeve to you the first time,” Jungkook turns his gaze to the space between his stool and yours, face contorted in absolute judgement. “That hole on the floor is at least halfway to China.”

“How the fuck is this even possible?!” you look at him like he has told you the earth is not only flat but also rectangular. “I’ve seen a woman walk into a streetlight because she couldn’t stop staring at you.”

“My dick prefers lips over eyes, baby,” he smiles into his drink. 

“If you don’t keep your voice down, someone’s gonna offer,” you trace your finger on the rim of your glass, “which you could use, it feels like.”

“Nah, I’m good,” he purses his lips.

Now you’re even more confused. The sex god among mortals has been celibate for three whole years for reasons unknown, and he doesn’t seem the least bit interested in revving the horny engine again. Which makes NO goddamn sense because during the two weeks you had to share an apartment during college, you were inadvertently subjected to A LOT OF TMI regarding what this motherfucker did with his dick on Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, seven days a week. 

With seven different people.

“What is this really about?” you press further. “You’re literally the only guy I know who’d refuse getting his soul sucked out of him.”

“Nothing,” he calmly shrugs, pushing your annoyance levels to a dangerous height. “The kinda head game that’s up to my standards just can’t be found in the wild anymore.”

“You know the red light district exists, right?” you deadpan.

“I don’t pay for sex,” he sternly counters.

“Don’t you have like five different porn subscriptions?” you sneer.

“Along with six other streaming platforms, yeah, what’s your point?”

“Fine, smartass, why not hookup apps then?”

“No one really swipes right with the kinda shit I put on my profile,” he heaves a resigned sigh. “I mean, if they did, I’d probably have to call the cops to report a raging lunatic anyway.”

“Puh–lease!” you snort loudly. “Bitches would swipe right today just to climb your hot ass body even if your bio said ‘There’s a true crime documentary about me on Netflix’.”

“Which is why my avatar picture is a stoic capybara,” he declares matter-of-factly, then annoyingly smirks. “So you think my body is ‘hot ass’, huh?”

“So you are on digital brothels, huh? Which means you are actively searching,” you immediately block the door so the topic wouldn’t even dare to change. “Then how come you’re not hitting that every lunch break?”

“Why would I do that when I can just get high and rub one out instead?” he scoffs. “Did you know weed makes lunch break feel like three hours?”

“Why are you being so evasive?” 

“What do you mean?” 

“This,” you draw a circle around his stupid gorgeous figure, your voice swelling with your patience running thin fast. “I’m asking a very simple question. I know you’ve calmed down a lot over the years, which is suspicious as fuck by the way, but just what the hell kinda ‘standards’ do you have that no one in the universe seems to meet them?”

Jungkook’s lips faintly curl as he swirls his drink in his hand. You’re the only person in this world he feels something akin to trust for, yet he could never bring himself to talk about any of this even with you, not that he never came close on particularly drunk nights. He is immune to strangers getting scandalized now, calling him names, borderline running away screaming as if he put a gun to their heads, but just the thought of you being nauseated by him, being disappointed in him in whatever capacity fucking kills him inside. He can’t afford losing you. He’s never been able to.

But something about you insisting on squeezing this out of him is doing things to him because god fucking knows he wants you to squeeze a lot more out of him. Things that have been forced into dormancy for years. Things he couldn’t say, things he couldn’t feel, things that physically hurt him because of how heavy they have grown inside him. So heavy that sometimes it feels like if you touch him once, it will induce such an intense release that he will cry with unbearable relief. He doesn’t know why he’s getting such a kick out of it; maybe it’s the pregame drinks he’s rolled too fast, but it’s dangerous. It’s so damn dangerous that he can feel the control he always holds in a death grip slipping through his fingers like butter on sizzling iron. There’s a reason he never talks about these things with you because every time you’re around, the angel and the devil on his shoulders always seem to be busy fondling each other to actually give him any sage advice. 

“You know what, maybe it’s better if I just showed you,” he knowingly smiles, then finishes his drink in one go and leaves the stool. “Come on, we’re gonna be late for the show.”

He’s on his way to meet you. Hope you'll look forward to it •ᴗ•

[kurapikaenia]

HATE SEX IS STILL SEX. | JJK

When you; rich, hot, and supposedly untouchable, get dumped over text out of seemingly nowhere, your pride takes the hit. You trace it back to Jungkook— your ex’s best friend, the boy who’s hated you since day one. He claims he can’t stand entitled, rich girls like you… and somehow, he’s always had a problem with your relationship, never missing a chance to put distance between you and your boyfriend.

But when hatred begins to taste like hunger, every argument becomes dangerous. Every glare lingers a second too long, a reminder of what’s always simmered between you. Some mistakes feel too good to stop. Because at the end of the day, hate sex is still sex.

🖇Warnings: 18+ content (mdni) heavy smut, hate sex–lots of it, commitment issues!reader, heavy banter and lots of arguments, slowburn, slight angst, domjk x sub!y/n, college au, yearning–lots of it.

🖇 A complicated and messy enemies-with-benefits story for my babies who love long, detailed, smutty and tension filled tropes— where Jungkook and oc hate eachother at first, but jk is undeniably down bad for oc, and oc is mean and runs from anything that feels real.

🧷series part—1’ wc: 7k+

🧷series part—2’ wc: 8k+

🧷series part—3’ wc: 11k+

🧷series part—4’

🧷series part—5’

[jeonlic]

make ’em jealous ˚୨୧

synopsis. when your ex starts dating someone new and makes sure you see it, you show up to the next campus party with jeon jungkook—the most talked-about guy who practically has everyone swooning over him, on your arm. it’s supposed to be simple: make your ex regret it, make his ex uncomfortable, make everyone jealous. but the touches don’t feel fake, the kisses look too real, and when the jealousy stops being strategic, you realize this isn’t just a performance anymore.

pairing. jeon jungkook x fem!reader genre. college au. fake dating. mutual revenge. jealousy. smut. comedy. fluff. campus stars. messy feelings. pda. private tension. slow burn.

warnings. big dick!jk. unprotected. clit rubbing. overstimulation. fingering (one, two, three fingers). oral (f. receiving). multiple orgasms (f. receiving). missionary. slightly rough. pet names. foul language. dirty talk. he finishes inside <3 notes. for my precious @jeonette 🤍🥹!! this has been a wip for like a month, i've been slowly chipping away at it. soooo enjoy!!

you really shouldn’t have come, and you realize that the second the bass rattles through your chest and someone nearly elbows you in the face trying to squeeze past. the house smells like cheap cologne, sugary alcohol, and bad decisions, which feels fitting considering your ex is currently holding court in the center of the living room like he owns the lease. his arm is slung around a girl from econ, the one who laughs too loud in lectures, and she’s tucked against his side like she won something. he looks up just as you step fully into the room, like he’s been waiting for it, and when his eyes meet yours he smiles smugly. “oh he planned that,” megan mutters under her breath, tightening her grip on your arm. jimin follows your line of sight and goes quiet in that way he does when he’s about to say something rational that you absolutely will not listen to.

as if on cue, your ex leans down and kisses the girl. slow. exaggerated. cinematic. you would almost respect the commitment to theatrics if it wasn’t so obviously staged for you. the girl giggles mid-kiss and, you swear he glances at you. not subtly, fully intentional.

you feel it then, the subtle shift around you. people noticing. waiting. the curiosity that spreads in quiet ripples through a crowded room. are you going to leave? are you going to cry? are you going to pretend you didn’t see it?

you refuse.

“i’m fine,” you say, even though neither megan nor jimin asked. megan gives you a look that says you are absolutely not fine and she will be billing you for the therapy session later.

your ex whispers something into the girl’s ear and she laughs louder than the music, fingers tightening in his shirt like she’s staking claim. something sharp settles in your chest– not heartbreak, not even sadness, just pride refusing to be stepped on in a house full of people who would love a front row seat to your humiliation.

you set your drink down carefully. too carefully. jimin notices. “whatever you’re thinking,” he says calmly, “think smaller.”

but you’re already scanning the room, and that’s when you see him.

jeon jungkook is leaning against the kitchen counter like he’s mildly inconvenienced by existing here. black tee, rings catching the light when he adjusts his grip on his cup, expression bored in a way that still somehow draws attention. people orbit him without him trying. and right next to him, almost comically close, is his ex, hand resting on his arm, laughing at something he clearly did not say to be funny. he looks uninterested.

interesting.

megan follows your gaze and immediately tightens her hold on you. “no,” she says. jimin exhales slowly. “if you do what i think you’re about to do, i need legal immunity.”

you gently pry your arm from megan’s grip. “hold my dignity,” you tell her.

“you don’t have any left,” she hisses.

too late.

you’re already walking.

the crowd parts subtly as you move through it, conversations dipping just slightly as people clock your trajectory. jungkook notices you when you’re a few steps away. his brows lift, not confused, just curious. his ex goes quiet mid-sentence as you stop in front of him.

“hi,” you say, like this is normal. like you approach him all the time.

he studies you for a second– slow, assessing, before answering, “hi.”

up close, he smells clean. warm. distracting. you don’t let yourself hesitate. you reach for his hand and lace your fingers with his. his movement stills, just for a second, surprise flickering across his face before something sharper replaces it.

“play along,” you murmur quietly.

his eyes flick past you, following the invisible line you’ve drawn. your ex is staring now, no subtlety left. jungkook’s ex is staring too, her hand slowly slipping from his arm. jungkook looks back at you, and then he smiles. not confused. not resistant. entertained.

“oh,” he says softly, like he’s just figured out the game. “i see.”

before your nerve can betray you, you step closer and let your free hand rest lightly against his chest, just intimate enough to look real. his hand comes to your waist automatically. not hesitant. not unsure. firm and steady, like it belongs there.

“you sure?” he murmurs, leaning down slightly so the question feels private.

“very.”

you kiss him.

not quick. not cautious. deliberate. you commit to it fully because there’s no halfway option here. for half a second he’s still– processing, maybe surprised by the audacity, and then his hand tightens at your waist and his other hand slides up, thumb brushing your jaw as he tilts your head just enough to deepen the kiss. not obscene. not desperate. controlled. convincing.

it’s not affection. it’s a fucking headline.

when he pulls back, it’s slow, like he’s not in any rush to detach. your foreheads nearly touch. your pulse is loud in your ears.

“wow,” megan whispers somewhere behind you, equal parts horrified and impressed. jimin sounds almost proud when he mutters, “that’s commitment.”

jungkook’s thumb traces lazily against your hip as he glances past you again. your ex isn’t smiling anymore. his ex looks personally offended.

“so,” jungkook murmurs quietly, eyes settling back on yours, “who are we making uncomfortable?”

“both of them,” you answer without breaking eye contact.

his jaw tightens– subtle, but there. something unreadable flickers across his expression before he shifts, turning you so your back brushes lightly against his chest, his arm settling around you like it’s the most natural thing in the world. it feels… easy. easier than it should.

“how convincing do you want this to be?” he asks softly, close enough that the question feels like it belongs only to you.

you don’t hesitate. “very.”

he hums, low, almost amused, and then he says, “babe, you want something to drink?”

babe.

your heart does something inconvenient, but you tilt your head up at him like you’ve heard it a hundred times before. “surprise me.”

his smirk deepens. the room is still watching. your ex is still staring. and for the first time since you walked in, you’re not the one on display– you’re the one controlling it.

the party shifts after that. it’s subtle at first– conversations picking back up, music swelling again, but the energy around you is different. people look at you openly now. not with pity. with curiosity. jungkook doesn’t drop his arm from around you once. not when he grabs you a drink. not when someone from his friend group raises their brows at him in silent question. not when your ex very obviously tries not to look like he’s looking.

“so this is new,” one of jungkook’s friends says, eyeing you both.

“is it?” jungkook replies easily, taking a sip from his cup. his hand rests low on your waist, thumb moving absently like he’s unaware he’s doing it. you’re painfully aware.

you tilt your head slightly. “we’ve just been private.”

the lie rolls off your tongue too smoothly.

his friend looks between you, clearly unconvinced but entertained. “right.”

across the room, your ex stands up. that’s how you know it worked. he says something short to the girl, jaw tight, and heads toward the kitchen like he needs air. he doesn’t look at you as he passes. that’s worse.

jungkook notices. of course he does.

“he looks thrilled,” he murmurs near the shell of your ear.

“good,” you reply, though your pulse is still running high from the adrenaline of what you just did.

his ex approaches then, expression tight. “since when?” she asks, not bothering to hide the edge in her voice.

jungkook doesn’t hesitate. “since we wanted to.” her eyes flick to his hand on your waist. “you move fast.” he smiles slightly. “i don’t like wasting time.”

you almost choke on your drink. she leaves not long after that, just stiff and irritated, watching over her shoulder.

“okay,” megan appears at your side, eyes wide. “what did i just witness?” “strategic brilliance,” jimin answers before you can. jungkook glances at them and then back at you. “are they always like this?”

“unfortunately,” you say. “good,” he replies. “i respect supportive chaos.”

the night continues with you tucked against him like it’s routine. every time someone looks, he leans closer. every time your ex drifts into your peripheral vision, jungkook’s fingers press slightly firmer into your waist. it should feel awkward and force, but somehow, it feels disturbingly natural.

by the time the party thins out, the rumor has already started spreading. you can hear it in fragments as you pass people near the door. “did you know?” “since when?” “i thought he didn’t date seriously.”

outside, the air is cooler. quieter. the house noise muffled behind you. jungkook finally lets a little space exist between you, though his hand doesn’t fully drop until you both reach the sidewalk.

there’s a pause.

“so,” he says, shoving his hands into his pockets, studying you in a way that feels far less– fake, now. “impulse decision?”

you fold your arms loosely. “maybe.”

“effective,” he admits.

“your ex didn’t look thrilled either.”

his jaw shifts slightly. “yeah.”

there it is. the mutual understanding. this wasn’t charity. this wasn’t random. this was convenient.

you look at him carefully. “we could keep it up.”

he tilts his head. “you want to?”

“it worked, didn’t it?”

he considers that. glances back at the house, where silhouettes move past the windows. “if we’re doing this,” he says slowly, stepping a little closer again, “we don’t half-do it.”

“meaning?”

“meaning no awkward energy in public. no looking like we’re forcing it. if we’re dating, we’re dating.”

the word lands heavier than it should.

“it wouldn’t be real,” you clarify.

“obviously.”

a beat.

“mutual benefit,” he continues. “your ex sees you’re fine. my ex stops hovering. campus gets something to talk about.”

“and we end it when?”

“when it stops being useful.”

that feels safe enough. calculated. contained.

“rules,” you say.

his mouth curves slightly. “i was hoping you’d say that.”

you both start walking without discussing where you’re going. just away from the house. away from the noise.

“no mixed signals outside the act,” you begin.

“define mixed.”

“no flirting when no one’s watching.”

he hums. “so only performative flirting?”

“exactly.”

“fine.”

“no jealousy.”

he glances at you sideways. “that one’s unrealistic.”

“it’s fake,” you remind him.

“right.”

“and if one of us wants out,” you continue, “we say it. no ghosting. no public embarrassment.”

“agreed.”

you stop walking and hold your hand out between you like you’re closing a business deal. he looks down at your hand, then back at you. something unreadable passes through his expression before he takes it. his grip is warm. firm.

“no feelings,” he echoes.

he doesn’t let go immediately.

neither do you.

and somewhere in the back of your mind, beneath the adrenaline and the satisfaction and the petty victory, there’s a small voice whispering that this is either going to be brilliant– or catastrophic.

megan finds you in the campus cafe the next morning looking like you’ve just committed a felony. not the cool kind either. the embarrassing kind. you’re hunched over an iced coffee you haven’t touched, staring at your phone like it personally betrayed you. jimin is already there, dramatically slurping his drink and watching you with the kind of curiosity usually reserved for reality tv finales.

“so,” megan says, sliding into the seat across from you, “how fake are we talking on a scale from disney channel to hbo?”

you look up slowly. “shut up.”

jimin gasps, hand to chest. “it’s hbo.”

you drop your head to the table. “it’s not hbo.”

“did you kiss?” megan asks immediately.

“define kiss,” you mumble into the wood.

there’s a beat of silence. jimin leans forward. “oh my god. it’s hbo.”

you shoot upright. “it was part of the plan.”

“was it?” megan narrows her eyes. “because i distinctly remember the plan being ‘light touching, subtle flexing, make the ex uncomfortable.’ i don’t remember ‘full cinematic moment under string lights.’”

you press your lips together. that kiss stupid, strategic, necessary, absolutely not lingering for an extra second because jungkook’s hand had slid from your waist to the small of your back and stayed there.

“it looked convincing,” you defend weakly.

jimin snorts. “convincing? babe. half the party thought you two were about to disappear into a bedroom.”

you blink. “we did not–”

“not the point,” megan cuts in, smirking. “the point is it worked. your ex looked like he was chewing glass.”

that makes you sit up straighter. “he did?”

“oh, he did,” jimin confirms, delighted. “i thought he was going to pull jungkook outside. which, by the way, would have been incredible for ratings.”

you try not to smile. you fail. “okay. good. that’s good. that’s literally the goal.”

megan studies you. “then why do you look like you’re spiraling?”

because jungkook texted you at 1:17 a.m. because it wasn’t a joke. because the message is still sitting there on your screen.

jungkook: you good?

you: yeah. you?

jungkook: yeah. you were convincing.

you stared at that word convincing for a solid five minutes like it was coded.

“show us the texts,” jimin demands suddenly, as if he can smell tension.

“no.”

“show. us.” megan reaches for your phone.

you yank it back. “there’s nothing to see.”

jimin squints at you. “if there was nothing to see, you’d hand it over.”

you hesitate. that’s all the confirmation they need. megan lunges. you shriek. iced coffee sloshes dangerously. jimin grabs your wrist. it turns into a full, humiliating tug-of-war in the middle of the café until someone coughs loudly nearby and you all freeze.

you smooth your hair like nothing happened.

megan leans back, victorious, phone in hand. “oh my god,” she whispers, scanning. “he texted you first.”

you cross your arms. “so?”

jimin leans over her shoulder. “you were convincing.” he looks up slowly. “that’s not neutral.”

“it is neutral,” you argue. “it’s feedback.”

megan gives you a look. “feedback would be ‘good job.’ convincing implies effort. detail. commitment.”

you hate that she’s right. you hate that your stomach flips a little.

jimin taps the screen. “and you answered in three minutes.”

you glare. “i was awake.”

“at 1:17?” he deadpans.

you refuse to answer.

megan hands your phone back with a smirk. “be careful.”

“it’s fake,” you insist. “it’s literally fake dating.”

jimin hums. “yeah. until someone forgets that.”

you scoff, but your brain replays last night anyway– jungkook’s hand at your waist guiding you through the crowd, the way he leaned down to murmur “relax” against your ear when your ex walked in, the subtle flex of his jaw when people stared. none of that felt like a joke. and you hate that you noticed.

your phone buzzes again. all three of you look down at once.

jungkook: lunch today? need to keep the story straight.

jimin lets out a dramatic scream. “oh he’s good.”

megan grins. “he’s very good.”

you stare at the message, heart doing something deeply unstrategic. lunch today could be public. visible. effective. it could also mean sitting across from him in daylight and pretending your pulse doesn’t spike when he looks at you like that.

you type back before you can overthink it.

you: sure. 12?

jungkook: i’ll pick you up.

pick you up.

jimin falls back in his chair like he’s been shot. “pick you up? he’s escalating.”

megan fans herself. “campus star behavior.”

you shove your phone into your bag, standing abruptly. “it’s branding.”

jimin cackles. “you’re in danger.”

you roll your eyes, but there’s heat in your cheeks you can’t quite explain. this is just phase two. public consistency. controlled exposure. mutual revenge. nothing more.

except you can already feel it shifting.

the plan was to make your ex jealous. the plan was to make his ex uncomfortable. the plan was never to look forward to the next time jungkook touches you like it isn’t pretend.

11:59.

your phone buzzes against the café table and all three of you freeze like it’s a life-altering notification instead of exactly what you’ve been waiting for.

jungkook: outside.

megan inhales dramatically. “oh he’s insane.”

“it’s one word,” you mutter, but you’re already fixing your hair in your camera reflection.

jimin climbs halfway onto his chair to peek out the window. “i regret to inform you he’s leaning.”

“what does that even mean?”

“against the car. sleeves rolled up. sunglasses on. like he owns tuition.”

you refuse to look. you will not be predictable. you will not be eager. you will not–

you look.

and immediately understand the problem.

he’s parked right by the main walkway, prime foot-traffic hours, like he specifically chose maximum visibility. one shoulder against the car, hands in his pockets, looking entirely unbothered. two girls walking past visibly slow down. one nearly trips.

your stomach drops in a way that is deeply unhelpful.

“remember,” megan whispers, gripping your arm, “this is revenge. not romance.”

“i know.”

“don’t fall.”

“i’m not.”

jimin squints at you. “she’s already wobbling.”

you shove them both away and step outside before they can narrate your emotional downfall in real time.

the second jungkook sees you, he pushes off the car. sunglasses come off. his eyes drag over you once– not exaggerated, not obvious, just slow enough to make you aware of it.

“hey,” he says casually.

“hi.”

you hate that your voice comes out softer than planned.

“ready?”

“for the media rollout?”

a faint smirk. “exactly.”

he reaches for your hand without hesitation. no buildup. no joke about it. his fingers slide between yours and lace there like it’s something he’s done a hundred times.

it’s firm, steady, and oh so warm–

you remind yourself this is strategy. people are watching. your ex is somewhere on campus. this is consistency. this is what believable looks like.

still, your pulse jumps.

he opens the passenger door for you.

you blink. “you don’t have to–”

“i know.”

his hand lands at your lower back as you slide into the seat. it stays there just long enough to feel deliberate.

you pretend not to notice.

of course he chooses the cafe by the main lawn. outdoor seating. glass walls. zero privacy. you almost admire the commitment.

the second you step out of the car, his hand shifts from yours to your waist. not loose. not hovering. planted.

“subtle,” you murmur.

“you said jealous.”

“i said jealous, not trending.”

he huffs a quiet laugh and guides you inside.

heads turn. you feel it instantly, the low hum of attention, the whispers that aren’t subtle at all.

and then you see him.

your ex. two tables over. with her.

she’s mid-sentence when he spots you. his expression changes first. then hers follows when she notices jungkook’s arm around you.

jungkook notices too.

his hand tightens at your waist, almost instinctively.

“window seat?” he asks calmly.

“sure.”

you sit across from him at first. safe distance. controlled. you talk about classes. about how ridiculous last night was. about nothing important. it feels normal. almost too normal.

then his foot brushes yours under the table.

you glance down. he doesn’t move it.

“accident?” you ask.

“no.”

you kick him lightly. he just smirks.

halfway through your drink, he stands. you assume he’s grabbing napkins. instead, he walks around the table and slides into your side of the booth.

close.

your thigh presses against his. your shoulder brushes his chest. there’s barely any space between you now.

“what are you doing?”

“looks more convincing.”

your heart does something embarrassing.

his arm stretches along the back of the booth behind you, fingers occasionally grazing your shoulder like it’s absentminded. it’s not absentminded. you can feel the intention in every small touch.

you say something sarcastic and he laughs — properly — head tilting slightly back. without thinking, you reach up and fix the collar of his shirt.

it’s automatic. casual.

he goes quiet.

his eyes drop to your mouth for half a second before lifting back up.

his hand slides from the seat to your waist. not exaggerated. not playful. just resting there.

your breath stutters.

you glance over at your ex. he looks irritated. his girlfriend looks worse.

mission accomplished.

but your attention isn’t on them anymore. it’s on the warmth of jungkook’s hand against your side. the way he leans in closer when you talk. the way he doesn’t seem distracted by anyone else in the room.

this was supposed to feel petty. funny. strategic.

instead it feels… easy.

and that’s dangerous.

when you stand to leave, he doesn’t create distance. he stays close enough that your arms brush as you walk. outside, students move across the lawn in both directions. maximum visibility.

“i think we’ve made the point,” you say quietly.

“have we?”

before you can answer, his hands settle at your hips from behind, pulling you back against him just slightly while you wait for a gap to cross. not dramatic. not exaggerated. just close.

your back presses to his chest.

your heart is unwell.

“you’re overdoing it,” you whisper.

“you’re smiling,” he replies softly.

you immediately try to fix your face. it’s too late.

across the lawn, your ex is staring. jaw tight. arms crossed.

jungkook doesn’t look at him.

he’s looking down at you.

and there’s something different in his expression now. less teasing. less amused. more focused. like he’s paying attention to how you react instead of who’s watching.

his fingers flex lightly at your hips. testing.

you don’t pull away.

and that’s when it hits you.

this isn’t funny anymore. it’s not just a bit you’re committing to. you’re aware of him in a way that has nothing to do with your ex or the people staring. the warmth at your back feels solid, grounding, and you don’t move away from it. that’s what unsettles you most– how natural it is to stay right where you are.

it sneaks up on you, this shift. not dramatic. not obvious. just a quiet realization that you’re a little too comfortable, a little too aware of the way his hands rest on your hips.

you don’t notice the way his expression hardens when your ex keeps looking. you don’t notice how his fingers press in slightly, not for show, but like he’s claiming space without thinking about it. you don’t notice how he waits until you’re both back inside the car before letting go, or how he goes quiet on the drive, eyes forward, jaw tight like something’s clicked into place.

you just know that somewhere along the way, this stopped being strategy.

and whatever this is turning into, it’s not going to stay simple.

“come over.”

you’re halfway through unbuckling your seatbelt outside your dorm when he says it, casual, like he’s asking if you want coffee.

you turn your head slowly. “right now?”

“yeah.”

there’s a very real moment where you could laugh it off. tell him you have things to do. keep this clean. keep it public. keep it strategic. instead, you hear yourself say, “okay.”

the drive to his apartment is quiet again, but this time it feels different. not tense exactly. just aware. every small movement feels amplified, when his hand shifts on the steering wheel, when your knee brushes the center console, when he glances at you for half a second too long at a red light.

his apartment is off-campus. top floor. of course it is.

when he unlocks the door and steps inside, you hesitate for half a second before following. it smells clean. faint coffee. laundry detergent. it’s neat in a way that feels intentional, not staged.

he drops his keys on the counter. you stand near the couch like you’re not entirely sure what the rules are here.

there’s no one watching.

no ex. no girlfriend. no crowd.

just you and him.

“you can sit,” he says, noticing the way you’re hovering.

“i know how apartments work.”

a small smile. “do you?”

you glare at him and move further in, sitting on the edge of the couch like you’re not aware of how this looks.

he leans back against the kitchen counter, arms folded loosely. watching you.

“so,” you say, aiming for casual, “what was so urgent?”

he doesn’t answer immediately.

“you leaned into me,” he says finally.

your stomach flips. “we already talked about that.”

“did we?”

“yes. on the lawn. jealous ex? optics?”

he pushes off the counter and walks toward you, slow and unhurried.

“that wasn’t for them,” he says.

you swallow. “you’re overthinking.”

“am i?” he stops in front of you. close enough that you have to tilt your chin up slightly to keep eye contact. “no one was looking when you did it,” he adds quietly. your pulse jumps. “you don’t know that.”

“i do.”

his hand comes up, settling at your waist. not pulling you in. not dramatic. just there. warm. steady. you could step back. however you don’t.

“you’re enjoying this too much,” you murmur. his thumb presses lightly against your side. “you came over.”

you don’t have a good comeback for that.

the air feels heavier in here. quieter.

“you’re good at pretending,” he says again, softer now. “and you’re not?”

his jaw tightens slightly.

“not about this.”

your heart stumbles. this was supposed to be mutual revenge, simple and controlled, but it doesn’t feel controlled. his hand shifts just slightly, sliding more securely around your waist. not trapping you in. testing the waters.

“you still want it to stay fake?” he asks. 

you should say yes.

but you don’t.

instead, your fingers curl into the front of his shirt, as he inhales slowly. and judging by the way his grip tightens just a little, it looks like he’s been holding back all day. his arms rest on your shoulders. 

slowly, he pulls you in for a desperate needy kiss, the kiss is gentle. brief. careful in the way that says he’s been wanting this longer than he’ll ever admit. his hand comes up to your cheek without thinking, thumb blazing hot against your cool skin, like it’s always known where it belongs. you smile into it, softly, and he exhales like something in him finally snaps.

when he pulls back, it’s reluctant, almost like he doesn’t want to leave his pretty assault on your lips, as a string of saliva connects you. his forehead rests against yours for a second while you both catch your breath. a smirk rests pretty on his plump lips and you can't help but bite down on your own when one of his hands pushes your shirt up, he continues leaving small, wet open mouth kisses down your stomach stopping just at the hem of your skirt, eyes searching for consent, which you happily give.

“needy, aren’t we?” he mumbles as he pulls your skirt and panties in one swift motion, “you're so pretty, angel.” he husks against your skin, the air blown out of his lips causes goosebumps on your skin, and a shiver to follow down your spine.

his head dips down to run his tongue flat against your sensitive bundle of nerve. he slowly flicks at it with the tip of his tongue, only to lap up everything that's seeping out of your entrance, making you desperately ache for more contact–

"so fucking sweet." he groans into you, the vibration of his words adding onto the pleasure your receiving.

he buries his tongue further and further inside of your cunt, licking rough fat stripes up to your clit faster, harder. and then add on to the pleasure he slips in three of his fat digits, fucking them into you at a harsh pace. 

"s-shit– shit, im gonna cum" you say between breaths, barely even able to form coherent sentences, eyes fluttering shut at the sensation of his fingers and tongue bringing you to a trance like state. stars, that's what you swore you saw as your orgasm approached.

the lewd sounds of his fingers fucking into you, and your soft moans filled the room, however all you could hear was how fucked your breathing was, and his deep velvety voice, “already?” he asks– slightly chuckling, “gonna cum for me huh? make a fuckin’ mess on my fingers baby?” he says as his tongue viciously attacks your clit, you pathetically nod in response, lips resting ajar letting moans slip through.

“koo– i-i can’t– shit slow down,” you say as you climax, back arching, hands clawing at his lower stomach, leaving angry, red marks. his fingers continue to fuck into you helping you ride out of your high– making sure to mutter “good girl” while pressing soft, tender kisses to your inner thigh. “did so, so good baby.” he coos, as he withdraws his fingers from your heat, getting up to unbuckle his trousers and slide of his calvin klein boxers.

his cock stands red and proud, and undoubtedly huge– bigger than anything you’ve taken before. slowly, he spreads your thighs as he holds his rock solid dick by the base and runs it between your folds, mutters something about how good you feel, before slowly sinking in, inch by inch. a sharp whine leaves your pretty lips, your gummy walls clenching around his thick length– “so–so full koo,” you whimper out, a small whine escapes your throat once he hits that sweet spot as he starts to move. “faster.” you mewl out. "shit baby," he husks against the nape of your neck, his pace increasing, hips slamming up against your ass. the lewd, sinful sound of your skin spanking against each other echoing into the room. "so desperate for my cock, huh? desperate and needy slut, taking me so well." he grunts, hips slightly faltering as his high approaches.

it hasn’t even been 10 minutes since your last orgasm and here you are, “koo– m’gonna..” you whine unable to finish your sentence as pleasure fills the bane of your existence. “i know baby– m’close too.” he coos, as his hand dips down to toy with your pussy. rubbing fast circles against your clit.  

his pace slows a little. head falls into the crook of your neck. teeth; digging biting. leaving marks. your second orgasm hits you harder than the first, you swore you saw the gates of heaven open, stars and all y’know? blinding white.

jungkook groans, feeling your gummy walls constrict his cock.  “i’m close,” he grunts out. he lets out a pornographic moan as he cums, bites down on his bottom lip. chest heaving, the muscles in his stomach beginning to tense in the way they always do. painting your plush walls white.

“you were s’good f’me baby.” he coos, dropping down to lay next to you. he studies you for a second, thumb brushing lazily against your cheek. “i love you,” he says, and together you both drift off to dreamland. 

morning light pushes through the gap in his curtains, too bright and way too unforgiving for how late you fell asleep. you wake up first, slow and heavy, and for a second you don’t move. you’re on your side, sheets tangled around your legs, his arm draped securely over your waist like it settled there sometime in the night and decided to stay. his breathing is steady against the back of your neck, warm and even. you very intentionally do not replay last night in detail. instead, you reach carefully for your phone on the nightstand, trying not to disturb him.

8:42 a.m.

you squint at the screen and immediately open the group chat.

you: i have made some… decisions

megan: why does that sound criminal

jimin: what did you do

you glance over your shoulder. he’s still asleep. hair messy. face relaxed in a way you’ve never seen before. one leg hooked loosely over yours like even unconscious he’s making sure you’re still there. something in your chest softens before you can stop it.

you: i’m not in my dorm

megan: ???

jimin: oh my god

megan: where are you

you bite your lip to keep from smiling.

you: top floor. off campus.

the typing bubble appears instantly.

megan: NO

jimin: YOU DID NOT

megan: DID YOU—

you: don’t finish that sentence

jimin: she did

you press your face into the pillow to muffle a laugh and that’s when the arm around your waist tightens slightly. you freeze.

“why are you giggling,” his voice is rough with sleep, low and right behind your ear.

you slowly roll onto your back. he blinks at you, still half asleep, hair completely ruined, eyes barely open.

“i’m not,” you whisper.

he squints. “you are.”

you lock your phone and drop it onto your chest like that makes you less obvious. “it’s nothing.”

instead of letting go, he shifts closer, pulling you into him until your back is against his chest again. his chin brushes your shoulder, his voice quieter now. “is it about me.”

you scoff softly, heat climbing up your neck. “you’re so full of yourself.”

a faint laugh rumbles against your skin. “you’re still here.”

that shuts you up.

your phone buzzes again between you.

megan: is he awake

jimin: tell him i said hi

you can’t stop the smile this time. he notices.

“they know,” he murmurs.

“obviously they know.”

“and?”

“and they’re being dramatic.”

he hums like he doesn’t believe that’s the full story. his fingers trace a lazy line along your side, absentminded but grounding. “about what.”

you hesitate just long enough for him to notice.

“about me being here,” you admit.

“do you regret it.”

it’s not teasing. not smug. just quiet.

you look at him properly then. sunlight catches across his face, softening the sharp lines you’re used to seeing in public. he looks different like this. less guarded.

you should feel embarrassed. or panicked. or at least slightly overwhelmed.

you don’t.

“no,” you say honestly.

something in his expression shifts at that. subtle. satisfied, maybe.

your phone buzzes again and this time he reaches over you, takes it gently from your hand, and sets it face down on the nightstand.

“they can wait,” he says, voice still thick with sleep.

you laugh under your breath. “megan is going to combust.”

“she’ll survive.”

you’re still smiling and he notices immediately.

“there it is,” he murmurs.

“what.”

“that look.”

you roll your eyes, but you’re laughing now, the sound quiet and light in the morning stillness. he watches you like he’s memorizing it, like this is somehow better than any reaction you gave him yesterday in front of half the campus.

outside his window, the world is already moving.

in here, it’s just the two of you, tangled in sheets, giggling like you didn’t accidentally blur every line you were supposed to keep.

[jeonqverse]

bad decisions ! ─── the one with library tension

summary. jeon jungkook is the university’s star, a baseball player—untouchable, adored, and infamous for leaving damage in his wake. and you’re just a student trying to survive lectures, deadlines, and the quiet loneliness of starting over. crossing paths with him was never part of the plan but college has a way of turning bad decisions into inevitable ones. and jungkook might be the worst you make.

pairing. baseball player!jungkook x fem!reader ﹒♡﹒ genre, au. angst, smut / college au ﹒♡﹒ wc:1.1k+ ﹒♡﹒ mdni! ﹒♡﹒ cw: sexual tension, power imbalance, hint of exhibitionism? ﹒♡﹒ note: to those who were waiting for this update, sorry it took a while :’) also my mind went haywire while writing this idk if it’s too fast for what’s happening here 😭

⤷⠀bad decisions m.post ! main m.list ! navi

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the library’s air hangs heavy, thick with the scent of old paper and stale coffee from the vending machine down the hall. february bites at the edges of the windows, frost creeping like fingers across the glass, but inside, it’s supposed to be warm. safe. a sanctuary for cramming midterms and pretending the world outside doesn’t exist. you hunch over your notebook at a corner table, the one tucked away near the history section where no one ever bothers you. your pen scratches across the page, outlining notes on economic theory, but your mind wanders. it always does these days, snagging on thoughts you can’t shake.

you force your eyes back to the textbook, jaw tightening. he’s been everywhere lately. lurking at the edges of your vision in the quad, his broad shoulders cutting through crowds like he owns the campus. which, in a way, he does. baseball star, golden boy with that easy smile that hides sharper edges. you’ve felt his stare too many times now, heavy and unyielding, like he’s peeling you apart layer by layer. it’s not coincidence. nothing with him ever is.

a shadow falls across your table. you don’t look up at first, assuming it’s some freshman fumbling for a book. but then the chair opposite you scrapes against the linoleum slowly. his scent hits you, clean sweat mixed with cedar cologne, the kind that lingers after a practice session; your pen freezes mid-sentence.

coincidence, you tell yourself, even as your pulse kicks up. the library’s half-empty this time of day, plenty of seats. why here? why now?

you glance up, and there he is. jeon jungkook, sprawled in the chair across from you like he belongs there. his hoodie clings to his chest, sleeves pushed up to reveal forearms corded with muscle from endless swings at the plate. dark hair falls into his eyes, and that piercing gaze locks onto you immediately, unblinking. he doesn’t say a word. just drops his backpack on the floor with a thud and pulls out a notebook, flipping it open as if this is a routine.

your throat goes dry. “what are you doing?” the words come out sharper than intended, but you can’t help it. the table feels too small suddenly, the space between you charged, like static before a storm.

he tilts his head, lips curving into that half-smirk that makes your stomach twist. “studying. same as you.” he says af it’s that obvious, his voice is low, barely above a murmur, but it carries in the quiet. no one else is close enough to hear, but you feel exposed anyway.

you shift in your seat, crossing your legs under the table. “there are other tables.”

“yeah?” he leans forward, elbows on the edge, closing the distance. his eyes drop to your notebook, then back to your face, tracing the line of your jaw. “but this one’s got the best view.”

heat floods your cheeks, and you hate it. hate how he does this— turns words into weapons, casual but filled with intent. you try to focus on your notes, pen moving again, but it’s futile. his presence is a distraction, like a weight pressing down on your chest. minutes tick by in silence, the only sounds the rustle of pages and the distant cough from another aisle.

then it happens. his foot, sneaker, scuffed from the field brushes against your ankle under the table. light at first, like an accident. you freeze, breath catching, but he doesn’t pull away. instead, the pressure increases, deliberate now, his foot resting gently against yours. the fabric of your jeans does nothing to dull the sensation; it’s insistent, sending a jolt through you.

“jungkook,” you hiss while glancing around. the librarian’s desk is twenty feet away, oblivious. a couple of students huddle over laptops in the far corner, headphones on. no one’s watching. but the risk makes your heart hammer.

he doesn’t stop. his foot stays there, like a silent promise. “problem?” his tone is innocent, but his eyes are dark, pupils blown wide with something hungry. he’s watching every flicker on your face, the way your lips part, the subtle hitch in your breath. studying you like you’re his next play, memorizing weaknesses.

you should shove his foot away, stand up and leave. but your body betrays you, thighs clenching as heat pools low in your belly. the library’s silence amplifies everything: the soft press of his sneaker against yours, the thud of your pulse in your ears. “this is... we’re in public.”

“so?” he leans in closer, voice dropping to a rumble that vibrates through you. “does that make it worse or… better?” his foot presses slightly, nudging to make you aware of his presence. you bite your lip to stifle a gasp, fingers gripping the edge of the table. the wood digs into your palms, grounding you, but it’s not enough. he’s unraveling you, piece by piece, in this sterile room where nothing’s supposed to happen.

jungkook’s gaze never leaves your face. he’s patient, observant, like always. noticing the flush creeping down your neck, the way your chest rises faster. he knows exactly what he’s doing. testing boundaries, pushing until you crack. this isn’t the flirty banter from parties or the stolen glances in hallways. this is him claiming territory, marking you with touches no one else can see.

“tell me to stop,” he murmurs, but there’s no sincerity in it. his foot lingers, pressing just enough to make you squirm, the friction sparking through your jeans straight to your core. you’re affected, the seam of your jeans rubbing against your clit with every tiny shift. shame burns in your chest, mixing with the ache building between your legs. he’s got you trapped, not just by the table or the public eye, but by the way he sees you. like you’re his to toy with, to break.

you don’t tell him to stop. instead, your foot twitches, brushing his leg in retaliation or surrender? you can’t tell anymore. his smirk widens, victorious, and he rewards you by sliding his foot slightly, the pressure firm against your thigh. close enough that if he wanted, he could—

a book thuds shut nearby, snapping the tension like a rubber band. you jerk back, slamming your knees together, heart racing. jungkook withdraws slowly, casually, as if nothing happened. he flips a page in his notebook, but his eyes stay on you, smoldering.

“see?” he says softly, voice laced with dark promise. “you bend so easily.”

you swallow hard, resolve fracturing under his stare. this game— his game— is swallowing you whole, and the worst part? you don’t know if you want to win anymore. or if winning even matters when losing feels this intoxicating.

the library clock ticks on, but time feels irrelevant now. he’s not done with you. not by a long shot.

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

© jeonqverse. all rights reserved. copying, modifying, translating is not allowed.

[bighitfics]

jeon jungkook fanfics that deserve to be turned into kdramas and selling books.

(a recommendation you badly need) ⭑.ᐟ

Rattled ⊱ ۫ ׅ ✧ by @gukslut

—neighbors to lovers, single dad jungkook, major angst, smut.

(if you haven’t read this master-freaking-piece, what are you doing? this is bout to be the best click of your life! I assure you, I can never not preach less about how well written this story is! every little line, dialogue from the first chapter till the last, is written and portrayed perfectly, she effortlessly brought the scene to life. Regardless the first chapter will always be my favourite, this is my comfort fic. my comfort author and couple.)

With Or Without You ⋆. 𐙚 ˚ by @bighitfics

—childhood acquaintances to lovers, age gap, angst, smut, fitness entrepreneur jungkook x luxury boutique shop owner oc.

(if you’re looking for a long series with the she fell first, thought it was one sided love that won’t be reciprocated in this lifetime and then he fell way too harder and loves her like it’s breathing—trope then you’re at the right place!)

Sauvage ౨ৎ by @tljunglebook

— grumpy x sunshine, cold and detached jungkook (who turns into a whipped puppy later on) office romance, slow burn.

(starting off strong, this book’s got the most delicious slow burn to ever exist! screaming at how sexy, down bad & protective jungkook’s for oc in this fic ugh the wattpad girlies already know that they’re my adopted parents)

10 Seconds ᥫ᭡ by @deepdarkdelights

— yandere jungkook, abduction, stalking, stockholm syndrome, smut, fluff, dark romance.

(this series is my first love, no you DO not understand how good of a writer she is. i would do anything to read this for the first time again! this story was how I got into tumblr in the first place, 10 seconds had 17 year old me on a chokehold!!!!)

Penpal 𓍯𓂃 by @laughing-with-god

— yandere prisoner jungkook, stalker, stockholm syndrome.

(gotta contact some directors and producers to turn this into a drama! it would slay so hard with its refreshing plot line! and tbh no words are enough to describe her writing abilities, she’s a pro✨)

Risqué ✧˖° by @mercurygguk

— age gap (ten years), forbidden romance, smut, angst, fluff.

(the time stamps and drabbles are the essence of this fic, the smut is so well written! ALSO THE SEGSUAL TENSION AND OVERALL YEARNING MA’AM!? can someone already turn this into a mini netflix series please!?)

About Time ִ࣪𖤐 by @yoonia

— time travel au, major angst, second chances, smut, fluff.

(if i had the chance to devour a book, i’d eat this one (obviously) it’s one of the best books of my life, i would die to see a live version of this)

I Want You To Stay ʚɞ ⁺˖ by @ahundredtimesover

—ceo jungkook, strangers to lovers, slow burn, angst, smut.

(no slow burn ever slow burned the way this story slow burned! lemme warn ya’ll this fic will keep getting better as you read it!)

Bride Of Devil ♰ 𓏲 ๋࣭  ࣪ ˖ by @jasminefanfics

—dark romance, gangster au, enemies to lovers, forced proximity, age gap, kinda yandere husband jungkook.

(my youtube fanfic girlies assemble! this is the best mafia jungkook fic i can recommend for ya’ll! the bgm is so addictive and perfect)

Beneath His Love ⋆˚꩜｡ by @/ctrlsht

— yandere jungkook, thriller, romance, angst, smut.

(this was absolute cinema imo. the way she was binded to him, defended him even though she could clearly see, feel that he was the real issue, that he isolated her, basically shaped (basically manipulated) her to become the perfect little doll for him, the doll who only cares for him nearly pushed me off the cliff but I loved it!

An Abundance Of Luck And A Sprinkle Of Fate 𐙚 by @borathae

—strangers to lovers, romance, found family, smut, angst, healing.

(I remember being unhealthily obsessed with this lord, aaol!kook & oc will forever be my babies TT this book tugs at your heart in a way that’s inexplainable and can’t refrain myself from re-reading the extra drabbles obsessively! their love gives me hope fr <3)

wiwi’s note ⋆. 𐙚 ˚

these weren’t rank wise in any way, if that’s what anyone’s thinking, all of them are written in their own way, by different authors with humongous talent! these own a piece of my heart.

have a good read besties <3

follow for more.

[gukslut]

Rattled | JJK {Masterlist + Posting Schedule}

Chapter One - Posted March 6th, 2020

Chapter Two - Posted March 20th, 2020

Chapter Three - Posted April 3rd, 2020

Chapter Four - Posted April 17th, 2020 

Chapter Five - Posted May 1st, 2020 

Chapter Six - Posted May 15th, 2020

Chapter Seven - Posted May 29th, 2020 

Chapter Eight - Posted June 12th, 2020 

Epilogue - Posted Friday June 26th, 2020 @

{RATTLED PLAYLIST}

{banner by @stutterfly}

[pinkpantherbby]

keep your friends close (but your enemies closer)

synopsis: you and jungkook were everything once—childhood best friends, first love, and a promise left unfinished. even though time pulled you apart, it never erased what you felt for each other. you grew up feeling too deeply, yet handling your emotions badly. years later he comes back, and with him the tension that never really went away. some loves don’t fade, they just burn slower—and hotter.

genre/warnings: 18+, explicit sexual content, mdni, angst, smut, childhood best friends au, mentions of drinking, enemies to lovers, slow burn, unresolved feelings, tension, kissing, neck kissing, biting, hair pulling, nipple play, fingering, unprotected sex (don’t do it), orgasm (m & f receiving), crying during sex, cum eating, a little fluff at the end.

wc: 14.6k

a/n: english it’s not my first language and this is my first time writing fanfiction. enjoy!

oh how you wish you could go back to those days, those beautiful days from around 7 years ago? fuck, you don’t know; it’s been so long you’re starting to forget some details—or maybe, it’s just the fact that you’ve drunk way too much at your best friend Ji Yeong’s 25th birthday party. you can’t help but think about him, and how things were before everything went downhill.

it’s almost as if you are reliving those moments again, when you were both eighteen—so immature and dumb, yet so close.

it’s heartbreaking how things ended between you and jungkook, how could a pair of childhood best friends who were once inseparable, end up not saying a single word to each other since the last time they saw?

but your pride says the opposite, he deserved that and you were right. after all he betrayed you and broke your promise—all those years of friendship like no other, he threw it all in the trash. and you wouldn’t try to save it—at least your self respect (or should we say your selfish side?) told you that you shouldn’t.

it all started way longer ago, to be exact, the moment you were both born. your parents were extremely close friends, almost like family; and to put the cherry on top… you were neighbors.

your first memories are of the two of you playing together some old game that you had made out in his backyard. sometimes you wish you could travel back in time and freeze that moment, to save it from the cruel tricks of time.

that was what your life once was, just endless play dates with you, jungkook, ji yeong and the rest of the kids on the block. all filled with uncontrollable laughter and innocence.

then time went by way to fast and suddenly it was middle school. you and him still always together. your days were quite different now—sometimes you’d spend entire afternoons doing homework or hanging out with new people you barely even liked.

it was such an akward phase for both of you; trying so hard to fit in when the only place where you could truly be yourself was with him, nobody could ever get you like him.

you’d both share the same weird interests, had the exact same sense of humor and had a concerning amount of inside jokes that no one found funny except you and him.

this bond led to some uncomfortable dating rumors, at first you found it a little unsettling—why did people think you were in a relationship with the boy you’d been friends since you were babies?

years later, high school came, and with that; the dating allegations started making a little more sense—it was impossible to ignore the fact that you guys would do things that actual couples did.

both of you enjoyed going to the movies together, going out for dinner, or simply spending the day at each other’s houses.

and the way you would look at each other was simply unforgettable; both of your eyes lit up with an intense shine when talking, every time someone mentioned either names in a conversation, or simply by looking at one another…

you must confess—you had grown a crush on him…

i mean who wouldn’t? it was impossible to ignore the fact that puberty had been kind to him. he wasn’t that nerdy, corny kid you once knew. he was all grown up and handsome, not to mention how ridiculously tall he was getting.

you couldn’t get him out of your head during the day, and couldn’t sleep at nights wondering if he felt the same way with you—were you being weird? i mean he was like your brother… what would he say if you confessed your feelings to him? would it be reciprocal or would he think you’re gross? or worse—what if he liked another girl?

you couldn’t stop spiraling to these awful thoughts. god, you were so sick of it. why couldn’t you just have a normal high school crush instead of losing your mind over your best friend?

everything took an unexpected turn that night.

it was one of your first parties, you weren’t invited to many but still went to a few.

ji yeong had basically dragged you to this one—some random girl’s house whose parents weren’t in town.

you accepted without hesitation, anything would be better than be alone at your house going insane for a boy who probably doesn’t even like you back

oh surprise, surprise—when you got there the first thing you saw was the exact same thing you were trying to distract yourself from…

fucking jungkook.

and to make things worse, why the hell did he look so hot that night? he was just hanging out with his friends with a basic outfit he threw, nothing special—but for you, he looked like he was sent straight from heaven

you’d been trying to avoid him the past few weeks—you just couldn’t deal with the obsessive thoughts that wouldn’t leave you alone all day long, and every time you came to his face you would fall apart.

his eyes lit up the moment you walked in. he waved at you, flashing that adorable smile that you loved of his—your face burned in embarrassment and you immediately went to get something to drink to calm yourself down.

anything would do—beer, vodka, tequila, literally anything.

what you shouldn’t have done was drink all the available options within 10 minutes. you’d never drunk that much ever before—you were absolutely wasted.

it felt like your head couldn’t stop spinning and with your feet feeling like they were floating, you could barely stand on your own anymore and—

who was the first person to come to help you?

of course it had to be him.

he quickly took you to the bathroom to wash your face and clean you up. if he hadn’t been there with you, you probably would’ve passed out in the middle of the kitchen of some girl’s house you didn’t even know. despite everything you’d been feeling lately, you were so grateful to him.

“thank you for helping me jungkook” you said in a low voice, laughing it off

“it’s nothing really, everyone gets a little tipsy time to time” he joked, a dreamy laugh following

a minute of silence followed, deep silence. the only thing between you was the uncomfortable eye contact.

you finally understood what people meant when they said silence spoke louder than words. it felt like you both knew what was coming…

thats when you both realized how tiny the bathroom was; which explained the short distance barely separating you, making your heart beat a little bit faster. thats when he asked the question you weren’t expecting to hear—not that night.

“do you like me?” he asked simply, with no hesitation. reckless and shameless.

your stomach flipped, you felt your whole body burned and you let out an awkward laugh. god, were you really that obvious?

“what? no—absolutely not—why would you say that?” you tried to sound unbothered. it came out just as nervous as you actually were.

“c’mon don’t play dumb with me, i know you better than anyone i know you like me”

oh. my. god. you wished for the ground would swallow you right there and then.

“but i don’t like you, why are you so obsessed with me liking you? you are so weird” you shot back hoping it sounded as nonchalant as you’d planned.

what you didn’t realize—but he did, was how you were sweating a little bit, how you were avoiding looking into his eyes, how red your face was getting and how you were trembling under his presence

“then why are you so nervous?”

why could he read you just like a simple book?

“then why have you been ignoring me lately? you didn’t even wave back at me when you got here”

you didn’t know what to say. your cheeks burned. had someone told him? that was impossible—you hadn’t told anyone. not even ji yeong.

oh god… had your mom somehow found out? had she told his mom, who then told him? she was so nosy—why couldn’t she just respect your privacy?

that’s when something snapped you back to reality.

it was a kiss.

he was giving you a kiss.

your best friend was kissing you, a soft cute kiss.

you were stunned in the best way possible. it was your first kiss and it was with the person you loved the most in the whole entire world, could it get any more perfect?

you were about to close your eyes and let yourself be carried away when he suddenly stopped.

“oh god i’m so sorry, i should have asked y-“

you didn’t let him finish before pressing your lips to him again, it was all so cute but unreal at the same way.

his lips were so soft and warm—you could even taste a little of the cherry gloss that lingered in his mouth from the previous kiss. he rested his hands on your waist delicately, silently asking for permission—which you answer by grabbing the back of his neck. he slightly tilted his head to deepen the kiss, which you excitingly followed.

you felt tingles all over your body and your heart was beating as fast as ever when suddenly, he slightly pushed his tongue inside of your mouth and you gasped in surprise.

“sorry, you didn’t like that?” he asked pulling away from the kiss—with nervousness flickering in his eyes.

“no, it’s not that” you laughed “it’s just i didn’t expect that. this is my first kiss”

“what? are you serious?” he said a bit startled, his already big eyes widened even more

“yes, idiot. i would have told you if i’d kiss someone before”

you both laughed shyly for a moment and it almost felt like the dreams you’d been having about him lately. everything just so sweet and perfect.

“sooo… do you like me or not?” he said teasingly—interrupting the cute moment with one of his dumb jokes

“just shut up and take me home, okay? i remind you i’m still drunk as hell and i really need to sleep” you answered sharply

“okay, okay—you got it” he scoffed

when he dropped you at your house minutes later—you were both sitting in silence and you couldn’t help but to make the worst promise in your life without realizing—“jungkook, promise that no matter what happens from now on between us, we’ll still be as close as we always were”

he started at you for a while, there was something in his eyes that you couldn’t figure out what it was—almost as if he wanted to say something, but he was stopping himself from it…

or maybe you were just going crazy.

then he came back to reality, and without a second thought he said

“of course, i wouldn’t leave you for anything.” another silent pause followed—“i promise.”

he looked at you with a spark in his eyes you’ve never seen before

“i love you” he said sincerely

“i love you too, jungkook” you answered with a bright smile plastered in your face

of course you two have said you loved each other on multiple occasions before—but this time was different, it was so… intimate.

like if the only people in the world was just the two of you

you gave him a sneaky good night kiss—because you wouldn’t want to know what your parents would say if they saw you two like that…

a week after you guys kissed, everything was perfect.

still to this day, you don’t think that you’ve ever been happier than when you and him were still together—when everything seemed to be just fine and nothing felt wrong, or maybe it was just your young innocence that made you feel that those moments were eternal.

those moments when it was still just the two of you, but in a different way. it wasn’t just a friendship now, it was a deeper bond. you can’t quite name it, after all there’s not a word for what exists between friends and lovers…

later in life, you learned the hard way that nothing lasts forever

it was that tragic, fatal night.

you and ji yeong were having a sleepover at her place, just a few houses away from yours.

it was late and you were both still awake, having a deep conversation about life—just a typical girls night.

that’s when you talked to her about your kiss with jungkook and how magical the last weeks with him had been, your cheeks hurt from smiling when talking about him and your whole face blushed with a faint red tinge remembering your kiss at the party.

and that’s when those words came out of your best friend’s mouth, a sentence that, from that moment on would change everything in your life… how you related to people, the way you love—everything changed. that night kept a part of yourself that was never coming back.

“aww that’s so cute! but what are you guys going to do now that he’s going away?” she said curiously, with a hint of pity creeping into her voice

your eyes slightly widened, a feeling you’ve never experienced before—disappointment.

you started to feel nauseous and dizzy, almost as if the question was a lethal venom injected right into your heart.

“what do you mean going away?” you asked afraid—you had hope that it was all just a joke or maybe she was just confused

“you know with all the scholarship thing and the fact that he will go to the other side of the country in two weeks?”

no

no, this couldn’t be real…

you pinched your wrists hoping that this was all just a bad dream and that you’d wake up with him lying peacefully next to you.

you were pale—the voice of your best friend suddenly came out as incoherent noise, you felt like you were going to pass out.

ji yeong suddenly started shaking your shoulders

“girl, are you okay? you look terrible… you knew about this, right?”

no, this couldn’t be… she was just confused—this was all just a joke. she was just joking… right? after all you jungkook did a promise to you… you knew him and he would never break a promise—right?

“i’m sorry” you murmured in a low voice—

“i don’t feel so good, i think i’m gonna head home—good night.” was all you could manage to say, your throat was as dry as a desert and all you wanted to do was go home and clear things up.

minutes later you were running to your house, trying to ignore the sickening knot in your stomach; repeating to yourself everything was going to be okay and that all of this was just a big misunderstanding

you got home and opened the front door to find your parents lying relaxed on the couch watching a movie

“mom?” you said in a rough voice, with a lump in your throat and on the edge of breaking down

“honey what are you doing here? i thought that you were spending the night at ji yeong’s”

“is it true that jungkook is going away?” you shot

your father turned off the tv, silently heading upstairs

“mom?”

she stood up and pulled you into a hug you didn’t return—“everything is going to be okay, i’m here with you okay?”

that’s the moment your world fell apart, that’s when it all clicked

nothing. lasts. forever.

not even the relationship you had with your favorite person in your life. not even the promises between you that you both swore not to break no matter what happens. not even love lasts forever, no matter how deep or real it feels.

but at the time, you were so attached to jungkook you couldn’t see it—you used to love his jokes, his smile, his hugs, his kisses…

you used to love him

all that faded away in a heartbeat, a painful heartbeat.

why didn’t he tell you? you knew he was hiding something, you were just so blinded by his stupid love to see it. why did he make you believe he loved you? why did he play with your feelings like that?

why?

all you could do was pull away from your mom’s hug and go upstairs. you got to your bedroom and locked the door. you didn’t even change your clothes before throwing yourself into your bed and started uncontrollably crying—all your pillow getting wet with your tears.

you couldn’t stop sobbing, not a normal sobbing—but the one that makes your head hurt, your eyes get swollen and your throat sore.

you can’t remember how long you stayed up like that, but the next thing you remember is waking up with a knock at your door and a soaked pillow.

you didn’t want to get up, you didn’t have the energy to walk a few steps to open the door to whoever was behind.

suddenly you heard his voice

“hey, are you there? i just want to clear things up please” he didn’t sound good either—his voice was low and it sounded more raspy than usual

you didn’t even bother getting up to speak to him face to face. you didn’t care how immature you were acting—you couldn’t dare to take a look at his face, the face of someone you once trusted with your life—but now all of that trust was gone

“fuck off” you spat, without considering how he would feel with you speaking to him like that

but you know what? you didn’t care, not even a little. why would he care about how you treated him if he couldn’t even be honest to you?

“c’mon i just want to talk, i know you are probably really mad at me but i can explain everything. just open the door please” he said patiently and pleading

oh great. he thinks you’re probably mad at him by the fact he didn’t tell you probably the most important decision in his life. how smart and thoughtful of his

you didn’t answer, you just rolled on your bed and tried to go to sleep again—it would likely be the only way of keeping you from constantly thinking of him

after a few minutes of silence, he spoke again.

what part of fuck off was so hard to understand for him?

“are you really going to do this?” he tried one last time

and yes, you were really going to ignore him when all he was trying to do was work things out like an adult

“you are unbelievable” he scoffed—“unbelievable”

you didn’t care whatever he said to you—the only thing that you wanted was for him to get the hell out of your house

“if you decide to grow up and actually talk like a normal person i will be at my house” he said angrily, with his tone now sharp and harsh

so now he was the one angry? the only unbelievable thing you see right now is him and his hypocrisy.

he was finally gone, but you couldn’t fall back asleep thinking about everything that had happened. when did all of your relationship changed? it was all so… spontaneous

when did all of these happened? when did he decide this? he had never talked to you about going away for college—what was the thing that changed? did he hide this from you only to hurt you?

all of a sudden tears started to come out of your red, puffy eyes again even though you didn’t want to because they were burning badly due to all the previous crying

this would be the worst two weeks of your life…

you couldn’t remember when was the last time you got off of your bed—you haven’t showered or brushed your hair in weeks, and it showed. you had dark eye bags because you were practically sleepless and your skin had broken out badly. to sum things up—you haven’t even had a decent meal in days, you weren’t hungry at all.

that’s how the 2 weeks flew by—between anger, sadness and numbness. how did all of this happen so fast?

then your mom knocked at your door

“come in” you said in a broken voice.

she stepped into your room with an unreadable expression on her face. you couldn’t tell if it was sadness or shame for you.

“we are going to the airport honey, today is the day—i don’t want you to do something you will regret later” she said as she sat next to you on your bed

“i’m not going mom, i don’t want to” you responded coldly

“but that wouldn’t be okay sweetie, despite everything he is still your best fri-“

“mom just stop bothering me and leave me alone, i’m not going to the airport and he is not my best friend now” you cut her angrily

you finally got off of the bed after days just to go lock yourself in the bathroom, maybe a shower wouldn’t hurt.

your mom gave up on you and just left the house with your dad to go to the airport. you knew very well everyone would be there—all your friends, his family and your neighbors

everyone except you.

when you got into the shower the cold water hit you like a slap to the face. you just sat on the shower floor with your face hidden behind your hands—and the uncontrollable crying appeared once again. you couldn’t even breathe between your sobs

this still felt like a nightmare, you still squeezed your eyes tight hoping to wake up for everything be normal again—everything like it was just a couple days ago.

you stayed in the shower for an hour.

freezing water running down through your aching body—you believed cold showers helped you clear your mind a little bit from all the pain—or maybe it was just a way of punishing yourself for being like that

when you got out of the bathroom just to go rot on your bed again, a white letter lying on your wooden desk caught your eye.

you came closer only to see his name written at the bottom with his stupid handwriting, all in pure dark ink. it seemed that it had been written and folded meticulously—without a single wrinkle, perfectly smooth. at least he tried to make your last interaction as best as he could.

you didn’t know if you wanted to burn the letter or be a little decent and read it—but you weren’t ready, not yet.

you took the decision to keep it on your memory box, maybe one day in the future you will grow up and finally read it. maybe then you’ll understand things better—but at the moment you don’t even want to bother yourself trying to understand him.

who knows how much time it’ll be there…

…

but right now, you aren’t eighteen anymore—you’re 25 and crying in a club’s bathroom stall, sitting on the toilet lid all alone

shame on you, what are you doing? it’s your best friend’s birthday—you should be out there dancing and celebrating with her instead of questioning your life choices from years ago. could you be more pathetic?

you decided to get out—you looked at yourself in the mirror and reapplied your mascara since most of it was gone because of your tears

you took a last look at your reflection and faked a smile—nothing weird, just what you’ve been doing for the last years; an attempt to ignore your sadness.

you really didn’t care how bad it was for you to ignore your feelings, because you know what?—life goes on, and it’s too short to be crying for a situationship you had years ago

you came out of the bathroom, determined to have a good night—with the person that actually matters today; ji yeong

they were already singing happy birthday to her—it’s really impressive how many people she is friends with. considering both of you grew up together basically as sisters, you should probably be the same as her—popular, happy and full of life.

you were so proud of the woman she had become, but not of the girl you turned out to be.

she had a beautiful smile on her face, oh how you wish you could enjoy your birthday as much as she did with hers.

you had baked ji yeong’s favorite cake. it’s always been a heart-shaped chocolate cake, filled with nutella, decorated with chocolate truffles and chocolate chunks, covered in a smooth chocolate glaze with delicate patterns—and you could never forget the rainbow sprinkles on top.

you would probably pass out from a sugar rush, but she’s always had a sweet tooth just as sweet as her.

she shouted your name for you to come to her side. you rushed to be next to her in time, feeling very excited for your best friend.

you couldn’t help but be so happy for her—how couldn’t you?

watching the girl you’ve known since babies grow up with you made you so emotional.

you were so grateful for her friendship, she had never left your side after all you’ve been through. ji yeong was always there for you; she was the person that comforted you the nights you couldn’t stop crying, the one to always be for you when you needed a hug and you always felt she was the only one out there that got you like no one else did.

“make a wish” you said cheerfully to her

“you know what?—i’m going to wish for you to find happiness again” ji yeong whispered to your ear

“you know that if you spill your wishes to someone they won’t come true, right?”—you chuckled despite the warm feeling on your heart when she said that

“i don’t believe in that shit” she answered, looking at you for a second before blowing out her candles, everyone clapping for her after.

you took a second to look up and watch everyone that was joining her that night. you spotted familiar faces; childhood friends, some cousins of hers, college classmates and-

wait a minute

who the hell was that?

you found a muscular, tall man. with his right arm covered in tattoos just like his hands.

he was wearing an all black outfit—who was he and why you’ve never seen him before?

you took a look at his hair, it seemed so soft—a little messy probably from dancing but it still looked beautiful, so smooth and dark.

then you glanced at his face, the club’s colored lights in different shades of blue and pink didn’t allow you to take a good picture of it.

he seemed a little familiar to you… was your best friend talking to a boy without you knowing?

no, when it’s about ji yeong, that was absolutely impossible.

suddenly there were flashing lights—pitch black and white flashes alternating rapidly; causing the illusion that everything was moving in slow motion.

you got to see some bright, shiny lip piercings hanging in his mouth, a mouth you’ve definitely seen in someone else…

that’s when your eyes met with this apparently mysterious man, you squinted your eyes a little bit to take a better look—you sure need glasses—

you instantly recognized that pair of eyes—that deep yet sweet look you haven’t seen in a long time and wasn’t in your mind to come across it anytime soon.

your heart stopped for a second—was that…?

was that jungkook?

he was staring at your soul, an unreadable expression plastered in his face. he was just standing there—looking at you like if he could cut your whole body with just a glance

and he did something to you with that look—and all the shots you’ve drank a while ago wasn’t a good combination.

your stomach felt all in knots, goosebumps running through your whole body. you were visibly pale, eyes widened in panic, the loud music now sounded like a ringing in your ears. you started to see blurry feeling like if your head was spinning round and round on its own

what was happening to you? were you about to die from shock?

he started walking at your direction and you stood up as fast as you could—somehow keeping your balance and running to the girls bathroom again to hide yourself from him—even though he had already found you.

when did he come back? what the hell happened to him in all these years? he grew up of course—but he was unrecognizable…

why did he come back anyway? was he planning on living here now? god forbid that please…

you had a million questions all at once and you were sure you were about to have a heart attack. you really had to go back home—yes, it was your best friend’s birthday but you didn’t want to ruin her night because you passed out in the middle of the bathroom

you slowly opened the door with sweaty, trembling hands praying that he wasn’t behind it.

you opened it all the way and you couldn’t find him—maybe he decided to go home… but you had to leave quickly anyway before fainting in ji yeong’s party

you rushed to where she was dancing—pushing people away and bumping against everyone there at the same time

the music was so loud it only made your headache worse

you finally reached for her, touching her shoulder so she would turn around

“sorry, ji yeong… i have to leave—i don’t feel well” you said in a loud voice so she could hear you

she listened to what you said but didn’t answer anything

you looked at her face and she had an expression as if she’d just been frozen by something horrible right behind you

…

right behind you

you turned around and jungkook’s whole presence was a little too close from you.

you moved away just as fast as a scared cat—which made you trip on your high heels, your body landing harshly against the marble floor; your arm hitting straight into the hard surface

this would sure become a massive bruise tomorrow morning—what a great first impression! this was probably the most embarrassing moment in your entire life and it happened just the same day jungkook was back—what a fun night right?

you slowly sat up, and when you looked up you found his hand reaching out to help you get up. you couldn’t ignore the intrusive thought that crossed your mind at that moment—you blame the cheap alcohol you had minutes before this.

“JUST LEAVE ME ALONE” you screamed at him recklessly, not caring even a little a bit of all the people around you because everyone was far too gone to realize what was happening

you got up on your own and ran to the exit before even processing what you just did.

just as you got out you spotted a cab passing by which you quickly called and got in.

finally you were away from all of it—you let out a loud sigh and tried to distract yourself from what just happened by looking out the window, the cold night breeze cooling you down

sadly, it was impossible to clear your mind after everything that you’ve experienced at that moment. you tried to hold back your tears as hard as you could, but of course you failed—your crying was unstoppable, tears starting to blurry your eyes.

the least you could do was cry silently, you just had the second worst night of your life—but still didn’t want to make the driver uncomfortable.

poor man, he was probably working his ass off and your sobbing would sure ruin his night—and you already had enough handling your own ruined nighttime.

after what felt like a lifetime, you finally got home—you paid the driver, including some tip in case he had noticed your annoying sadness.

you got off and quickly entered the building, getting to the elevator and pressing the fourth floor button.

you looked at yourself in the mirror, bright white light finally letting you see yourself correctly.

you looked absolutely terrible. makeup all gone, mascara dragged across your cheeks because of your tears, dry lips, scraped forearm after the fall, eyes red due to crying all your way home and your hair a tangled mess

the classic soft elevator ring brought you back to reality, meaning you had already got to your floor.

you walked down the long aisle—finally getting home.

you quietly opened the door, trying to avoid waking up your neighbors. the moment you came in, you slowly went to your room—not even bothering in removing your makeup, all the tears about to come out in your sleep would probably clean your face for you.

you changed your black, short, glittery dress to your classic oversized shirt you wore for bedtime. you took off your terribly uncomfortable heels too, and laid down on your bed

just as your head hit the pillow, you fell in a deep sleep immediately due too how exhausted you felt after today

you suddenly woke up because of the loud sound of rain pouring against your window—you slowly opened up your eyes, when did you fall asleep?

thats when you realized, you weren’t in your apartment—you were in your old bedroom at your parent's house

you got up the in the blink of an eye, confused by what was happening

you look at your surroundings, everything was just like it used to be—the same pink bed sheets, all your posters still hanging on your walls, your childhood plushies laying on your bed in the same way you used to leave them before going to school and your old wallpaper still plastered in your room.

you turned around to look at the full-body mirror that was next to your bed. your eyes widened in shock—you were looking at your eighteen year old self.

your hair was shorter than yours nowadays and your teenage features made your heart shrink with nostalgia—but what caught your eye was the look in your eyes.

they appeared so… sweet

with a special glow in them you hadn’t seen in a while—as if you didn’t know what pain was

a hard knock on your door made you jump

…

you couldn’t see his face—but you knew it was jungkook

you turned the doorknob slowly to open the door, but you couldn’t. maybe it was locked?

when you checked it, it was open

you tried to open it again, this time with more strength; but it was still shut. you tried again, and again, and again.

you were starting to feel a little desperate, you just wanted to take a look at him and talk—it was like if there was some kind of invisible force keeping you from opening it.

you turned the doorknob and pulled as hard as possible; but no matter how hard you tried, it remained closed

you gave up and fell into your knees, frustrated and tired. he was still out there waiting for you to open the door.

“jungkook, i can’t open it” you said letting out a tired sigh “i just can’t”

you could see a little through the thin gap beneath the door, he was still standing outside your room

“please wait until i can open it… please” you said begging with a trembling voice

you noticed his shadow behind your door was gone, he gave up on you and was walking away—letting you hear how his steps sounded more distant each time

the rain had become a storm, filled with loud thunders and blinding lightnings.

you got up, and started to hit the door with the palm of your hands repeatedly, sobbing and with tears running uncontrollably down your face

it wasn’t a normal crying at all, tears literally falling from your eyes nonstop—just like a waterfall, causing your whole vision to blur and your face get soaked

you pressed your forehead to the door, sobbing harder.

“please come back…” you yelled loudly so he could hear you “i will try again” you pleaded

somehow, the rain made its way inside your bedroom even though your window was closed. all of your room was starting to be filled with water instantly, and it was rising at a rapid speed

first it got to your ankles, you tried to walk your feet to the bed so you could sit up on it and be safe—but for some reason you weren’t able to walk, it was like if you were petrified

the water quickly got to your knees but you still couldn’t move no matter what, you were screaming for help but your voice didn’t come out.

now the rain had reached your torso, causing you to start floating in the water—your limbs not answering, let you know how this was going to end

you stopped fighting when the water got to your neck, accepting your fate since you had no other choice but to do so.

your room was filled all the way up with rain, you hold your breath for as long as you could support

…

just as you were about to drown—nothing happened. you opened your eyes to now find a beautiful place

you were right next to a peaceful river, with crystal clear water reflecting the blue sky. on its side there was a beautiful green meadow, decorated with yellow flowers. the sun shining made the landscape look like a gorgeous painting

someone who was gently touching your shoulder, distracted you. you turned around and finally saw him, jungkook was only a few inches away from you looking at you with sweetness in his eyes and an adorable smile

out of nowhere, you pulled him by his shirt, pressing your lips to him desperately. you moved your hands to his big shoulders, following by him grabbing your hips and pulling your impossibly closer to him

you could feel his hard chest and muscular body against you. for the first time in your life you felt euphoria; a mix of warmness, peace and a happiness explosion ran all over your body

his lips were soft and plump, your hands were running all over his buffed back—like if you were finally doing something you’ve been wanting to do since a long time ago

he delicately pulled out of the kiss, leaving you wanting more of him

…

you abruptly woke up with your face damp with tears—did you just cry from happiness in your sleep?

you couldn’t shake the feeling of the dream out of your head, it all felt so… real

you checked your phone; it was 1:30 p.m—for how long did you sleep?

you had three missed calls from your mom and two messages from ji yeong.

you opened your best friend’s chat first to see if she had some sort of explanation for the surprise guest yesterday.

“hey girl, i just wanted to apologize for yesterday; i knew jungkook was back in town, but i didn’t want to tell you because i knew how you’d react”

“but i swear on my life he wasn’t invited to my party—he just happened to be at the same club, the same night as us i guess… anyway, let me know how your arm is doing after you read this. love you♡“

you started typing a simple answer, you didn’t feel like talking

“don’t worry girl, it’s ok. i think a have a huge bruise on my forearm lol”

…

now the tough part, answering your mother’s calls

you clicked the call button, mentally preparing for what was coming—of course she had to pick up instantly.

“oh you’re alive! i called you like 30 times, why didn’t you pick up honey? i was worried for you… ji yeong’s mother told me you fell at her birthday party yesterday, are you okay?” she talked with her usual rapid pace

“first of all, hi mom. second of all, i was asleep and third, i’m okay—i just scraped my arm a lit-“

“you were still sleeping at this time? oh dear, did you drink too much last night? do you need help?” she said not letting you answer the questions she asked you

“no mom; i don’t need help, thank you. i just drank a little too much… and the club’s drinks weren’t the best quality anyway” you replied, trying to hide your annoyance

“as you say so… i was calling you to let you know we’ll be hosting a reunion with some people from the neighborhood this saturday! it will be great, everyone will be there—ji yeong’s family, your childhood friends… oh! and did you know jungkook just came back?

you dragged your hands down your face with frustration

“no mom, i had no idea” you spat with clear sarcasm in your voice—which your mother didn’t notice

“really? it would be nice if you talked to him… anyway, i want you to be home on saturday night”

“actually, mom… i already have plans for that night…” you lied to her

“i don’t care, you will do as i say. see you soon sweetie!”—is she serious right now, you are a grown adult and she thinks she can tell you what to do?

“but-“ she didn’t let you complain before she hung up—it seems that no matter how old you are, your mom will always tell you what to do…

you threw your phone somewhere in your bed and sighed loudly—you really needed a cold shower…

when you stepped in, the cold water reminded you of your nightmare—it didn’t take a genius to figure out what it meant. you were so sick of everything, why did he have the same effects on you that he did years ago?

you shook your head and ignored your thoughts—but then saturday night crossed your mind…

what were you going to wear? should you wear something casual or classy? how should you wear your hair? did it look better straight or wavy? how would you do your makeup?… should you wear makeup?

you groaned angrily, why did you care that much? it would just be your family, close friends—and jungkook…

you closed the water violently

now not even cold showers could distract you from him? this was straight up torture, pure devilish torture.

you came out and quickly wrapped yourself in a towel, making your way to bed again.

you slipped into something cozy, and decided you should do something useful with your time—instead of just replaying your interaction with jungkook from last night over and over again…

you turned on the tv, looking for something to watch and enjoy for a bit.

after a few minutes of searching, you noticed they had added “call me by your name”, and instantly clicked on it. you had read the book when you were younger but never watched the movie

you were a bit excited, it was one of your favorite books so you would probably enjoy the film too.

when it started playing, the scenery instantly reminded you of your last dream.

the beautiful trees in the garden, the clear sky with the sun shining brightly and the lake was similar to the calm river that you had seen in your sleep.

once again, you spiraled—why did you kiss him so desperately in your dream? why were you touching his body so much? why were you only happy when you could finally see his face?

the movie kept playing in the background while you tried to find meaning to everything that happened in your dream, there was a scene where elio’s mother is reading a book to him.

suddenly, the actress said a line that brought you back into the world without a warning

“is it better to speak or to die?”

…

you swallowed hard, the phrase that resonated with your heart in a bittersweet way.

you felt a lump in your throat, eyes softening with sadness and comprehension at the same time

you thought to yourself “to speak, is always better to speak”—but why weren’t you able to? what was stopping you? was it yourself getting in your own way? why were you letting yourself die?

…

you turned off the movie with a blank expression on your face, not letting yourself acknowledge your feelings once again.

you grabbed your phone—and that’s when you had a terrible idea—why didn’t you stalk jungkook’s socials?

it wasn’t hard to find him? he had his exact name as his username.

you started scrolling through his instagram, he had a public account with a lot of followers. his feed didn’t have many photos, probably he thought it made him look mysterious and nonchalant.

most of his posts were just pictures with his friend group, there were a lot of people in it

about 5 boys including him, and 6 girls—why was he friends with so many? not that you cared; you just… wondered

you clicked to see his highlights, there were just random pictures of his friends, some landscapes—until you came across with a whole highlight dedicated to the gym

he had gotten so… big

his shoulders and back were so wide and beautifully shaped, his chest was so well sculpted and his legs were probably twice the size of yours

but then a video of him started playing, your jaw dropped the moment you saw it.

it was him on the bench, making biceps curls—shirtless.

every time he lifted the weight; his veins popped all over his big hands, arms getting pumped more and more with each set and abs visibly tensing because of the effort he had to make.

you were hypnotized—but what you weren’t expecting was that he’d let out a groan.

your phone slipped from your hands causing you to make huge mistake

…

you had just liked his story; and not just any story, but the one where he is literally half naked. you gasped in shock and quickly removed it.

your whole body burned with embarrassment, face getting red in a matter of seconds and sweating like crazy—you were on a streak of embarrassing moments

you prayed you had unliked fast enough for him not to get a notification that his childhood best friend, who had screamed to leave her alone to his face last night just liked his story

you turned off your phone, you think you’ve had enough internet for today.

as the night fell, you couldn’t get jungkook out of your head—you felt something strange in your stomach when you remembered his gym video

you kept repeating over and over how he looked and the sound he made—you realized a little smirk was escaping from your mouth.

what the hell was wrong with you? it was just a video of him exercising… maybe you were ovulating? there wouldn’t be another explanation to why you were being such a freak…

you went to sleep, feeling uneasy about your feelings—you felt like a complete creep. oh how you wish he won’t be at your house for the neighbors gathering

you couldn’t dare to look at his eyes after what you did… now he for sure he thinks you’re a maniac who screams to whoever tries to get close to her, and on top—she is a pervert.

…

you turned off the lamp on top of your nightstand to try to get some sleep; hopefully without jungkook making a special appearance in your dreams…

you were woken up by something heavy lying in your bed next to you. you squinted your eyes only to see a back you would recognize anywhere you go

would he leave you alone anytime soon at least in your sleep?

“what the fuck are you doing here?” you asked with a mean tone in your voice

“you know?” he said turning around and looking at you “considering the brat you are, it’s really weird that you like my stories”

you froze, blushing shyly at the accusations. you wanted to shot back something smart back—but nothing came out

“what happened to all that attitude?—first you scream at me but now you can’t think of anything to say?” he said as he got closer to you, climbing to your side

you were so nervous, but in a good way. you figured out what was that strange feeling you had in your stomach a while back

it was butterflies—you just hadn’t felt them in so long, you had forgotten what they felt like

he was now a few inches away to your face; both of his arms on either side of your head, caging you in. he was so close you could feel his breath against your hair.

you could even smell his scent, a manly scent that intoxicated you with obsession—and something else that you couldn’t describe, something that was just his; creating a unique perfume, that by just feeling you could feel a warm feeling between your legs

“tell me what you liked of that video” he said suddenly” tell me what left you so mesmerized you had to like it” a challenging tone slipping through his mouth

you were still silent, shame keeping you from admitting what he wanted to hear

“still quiet?—don’t worry, i can help you to speak up” he spoke with a perverse smile in his face

what had you gotten yourself into?

he started kissing your neck—the most sensitive part of yourself. he left hot, open mouth kisses all over, sucking on it time to time—leaving faint red marks

you swallowed your moans, trying not to feed his ego—you had to remain silent no matter what

“impressive, should we go a little bit further?” jungkook said knowing perfectly well what he would do next

he began to gently bite your neck, his teeth grazing with your soft skin—it hurt so good every time he applied a little more pressure on his bites. he did it so good, as if you two had done this a thousand times before

a soft moan accidentally made its way out your mouth, you covered your mouth fast hoping he didn’t hear it

“there we go” jungkook pulled out of your neck to look at your eyes “now tell me word for word, what you liked about me on that video” he murmured against your ear, causing a wave of goosebumps run over your body

“n-no…” you denied; you had already lost your pride, but not your self respect

“it seems like you need a little more help”

he slid his big hands all the way down to the waistband of your sleeping shorts, playing with it and torturing you

“please…” you whimpered, literally whimpered

“you need to do as i say so to get what you want” he chuckled teasingly

“your shoulders… i really liked your shoulders…” you admitted embarrassingly

“mhm…”—he slowly slipped down your shorts and started rubbing his index finger up and your clit painfully slow, the friction of your clothes making it feel delicious—“tell me what else you liked”

you tried to speak, but a loud moan came out instead

“use your words, sweetheart”

“your arms…” you couldn’t finish the sentence before he practically ripped off your panties, and started paying attention to your swollen clit again. this time he added more pressure and movement because he was using his middle finger too

jungkook was moving his hand in a 8 shape over your center skillfully, like if she knew your body better than yourself—you had never felt this good; your wetness smearing all over his fingers, intense pleasure reaching your soul and a familiar knot forming on your belly

“i liked it when…” uncontrollable moans not letting you speak “i liked it when you groaned” you confessed now shamelessly

he stopped his movements—and just when you were about to complain; he slipped his two fingers inside of you easily, due to how wet you were. you let out a moan that came out straight from your guts, letting yourself enjoy every movement of his

“you sure are obsessed with me, right?” he murmured cruelly

“yes… yes…” he was curling his fingers just right, touching that sweet spot that made you go feral

as if it wasn’t enough with his large fingers reaching points of your body you’ve never done; his thumb started to massage your clitoris in circular motions, causing you to jolt with ecstasy

your moans grew louder and louder and the knot on your pelvis was about to break, meaning you were about to reach your climax—when you woke up all of a sudden

…

you were covered in sweat, out of breath, with your pussy wetter than ever and an insatiable neediness—you buried your head on your pillows and screamed with frustration

you’ve had some wet dreams before but not as intense as this one… why did it have to be with jungkook?

could you just have one second of peace without him invading all of your thoughts?

you checked the time— 1:45 a.m, oh this was going to be a long night…

after that particular dream—the whole week you had been trying to do something to distract yourself from jungkook, but it felt like the world was spelling his name out for you everywhere you go

you were slowly counting down the days until saturday, anxiety consuming every part of your life. you had a constant stomachache reminding you of what was coming—an endless night filled with the bitter feeling of overthinking

you were already overwhelmed by the idea of being forced to open the front door to him, sitting painfully close next to him and feeling his gaze cut right into your heart.

you tried to get this thoughts out of your head, but you kept finding him in every possible way.

on monday; you went out for a walk to the park, thinking the fresh air and a bit of sunshine would help you forget your problems at least for a while.

you finished tying your shoelaces and started walking, putting all your focus on trying to clear your mind

for a second you felt calmed, the knot in your stomach beginning to fade away and finally being able to breathe properly without any stress.

that’s when you looked to your left and saw a couple of kids playing around, laughing and running around just like you did with him once. you just stood there, watching them from far away. all the feelings that were going away, returned and worse—falling into you abruptly.

when tuesday came, ji yeong invited you to the movies, you didn’t even know what you were watching but said yes without a second thought. you would do anything to distract yourself for some time

little did you know—when the movie just started, a teenage couple holding hands sat right next to you, they were giggling and occasionally giving pecks to each other

it was like traveling back in time and looking at you and jungkook from behind, when you didn’t have a single worry and your world revolved around him in the best way possible. not like nowadays.

now it was wednesday, saturday being just a days apart. you were simply scrolling on your phone when a notification popped

“on this day—8 years ago”

you clicked on it curiously, without knowing it would be a photo of you and jungkook together when you were seventeen

it was a terrible quality selfie you took on a random hang out. even though it was blurry—you could still see how you both looked so happy, a broad smile plastered in both of your faces, not caring at all how you looked like in the moment

a soft smile escaped from your lips while you felt pure, raw sadness. it was probably because the nostalgia it brought you, and because it’s funny comparing old photos of your friendship to the present

if you told the girl from that photo how things ended between you two, she wouldn’t have believed a word you said.

on thursday—you were on your way back home from class, when someone with the exact same smell of him passed by your side

your heart dropped, the scent immediately brought you to your dreams from a couple days before. it was the same strong, masculine scent he had.

the worst part, was that you don’t even know how he actually smells. that perfume he had on your dream was just a twisted invention of your brain—you were causing this pain to yourself.

you froze in the middle of the sidewalk, not being able to take a single step. you were too heartbroken to simply keep going

even though you didn’t want to, friday came. you were just a day away from the worst part of your week and it was inevitable.

that day, you went shopping for some makeup—you needed something to cover all the sadness you felt the last time

you were trying out some new lip gloss that had just come out just for fun. you were considering buying one, you just couldn’t find the perfect shade

you found one that looked beautiful and it was your favorite color. it was a mix between red and pink, but without it looking too bright. it was the perfect dark, deep shade you were looking for.

when you tried it, you could instantly taste the cherry flavor you hadn’t read it tasted like. it was like if you were at that party bathroom, tasting the cherry flavor of your gloss on his lips again. for the fifth time in the week, jungkook invaded your soul with a terrible melancholy

you were so fed up with everything; tears started pouring out your eyes, keeping you from seeing clearly. you accidentally dropped the product, which was in a glass container.

when it hit the ground; it shattered into a thousand little pieces, making an extremely loud noise that caused everyone to turn around and look at you

you panicked and felt painfully ashamed. without knowing what to do—you ran away from the store, leaving the shopping quickly to hide in your apartment and cry your balls out.

when you finally got home, you violently threw yourself into your bed—with your head buried in your pillows, you couldn’t stop sobbing and breathing was starting to get harder and harder.

you needed someone to hug you, just to hug you. your limit clearly had been reached, you didn’t know how much sorrow you could keep holding.

you closed your eyes and kept crying until you fell asleep, you thought there was nothing else you could do. this was the bad habit you been having lately of doing nothing about your sadness, and just hope that with sleeping you would go away. it never did.

a bright ray of sunshine hitting straight to your face woke you up—it was a beautiful day with not a single cloud in the sky, birds chirping peacefully and a fresh breeze in the air.

you on the other side—felt heavy, not even wanting to wake up. how you wish you could just skip this day and move on.

but you couldn’t, you need to face the reality and go to the gathering even though you don’t want to. you hate going back home, sometimes you feel guilty for not visiting your parents enough—but going back to your old neighborhood means remembering old memories of you and jungkook

you didn’t have the courage to look at his house—which was right next to yours, and entering your old room again reminded you of how you spent your days after he was gone.

it was the lowest point of your life—you didn’t have the energy to do anything, not even for showering, eating or simply walking. you were sinking in an endless cycle of sadness and anger

you were only able to live once again when one day, your parents came into your bedroom and cried in front of your face—sobbing about how they hated seeing you like that and how they missed you so much

what they didn’t understand was that you missed yourself too. you missed how fun, cheerful and happy you used to be. you couldn’t remember when was the last time you had smiled or laughed, if you kept being like that for too long—you didn’t know how it was going to end.

you got up and for the first time in weeks, you spoke

“i’m sorry, i’ll try to be better” you didn’t say that because you cared for yourself, it was because you hated when your parents suffered. you could take your own pain, but never theirs.

from that moment on, you had tried everything to get better—but it seemed impossible.

you tried new sports, reading books, cooking new recipes, and you even tried meeting new people—it was completely nonsense, you compared every person you met with jungkook.

the way they talked, moved, their sense of humor or the way they smiled—you thought they weren’t like him, and of course it wasn’t. you were looking for jungkook in someone that just wasn’t him.

you wanted him—sometimes you wanted to call him or ask him how he was doing. for sure it’s not easy leaving the town you were born and raised, to go study to a completely unknown place

but you didn’t, every time you remembered what he did and how he hid such an important thing from you when you were starting to have a relationship—you fumed with anger and ignored your urge of reaching for him

you had to grow up and accept the truth: you are going to have to be at the same place with jungkook having dinner as if nothing ever happened.

you got dressed up in something casual to go and help your parents with the setting up of everything. you put some cuter clothes and make up in your bag—and started driving to your old home.

when you got there, your parents came out and gave you a big hug—you easily haven’t visited them since about a month and a half, why do you have to be like this?

“it’s nice having you home sweetie” your mom said with a bright smile in her face “today it’s going to be so nice!”

she was so excited for this and you couldn’t mess it up with your bad mood, you know she misses how things used to be too

“it’s nice to see you” you answered trying your best to look happy and excited “let’s get started with everything, okay? we have a lot to do” you said changing the topic.

during all day—you had been cleaning the house for it to look nice, helping your mother with the cooking even though you almost burned the kitchen and setting the table including some of your family’s finest tableware

anything to keep your mind busy.

when everything was ready, you took a quick shower to freshen yourself a little and started to get ready. you styled your hair, put a little makeup, threw some accessories on, and some perfume when you were done.

you heard some guests were already arriving—you sighed and said to yourself that you got this, you would just be there for a short time and then you’d make up a random excuse to leave.

you came down stairs and a couple of families were already there, including ji yeong’s. you greeted them and helped them to get comfortable with a smile in your face—it wasn’t so bad meeting with your old friends at all

more and more people were arriving, but jungkook wasn’t there yet—even his parents were here. maybe he didn’t have the guts to show up, what a pussy you thought to yourself

you were all sat up already eating—you felt calm now that he didn’t show up, maybe your parents were right and this was going to be nice?

wrong.

you were about to devour the delicious food on your plate when suddenly the doorbell rang. you froze and your eyes widened with fright, please don’t be him you prayed…

“sweetheart, could you please open the door for me?” your mom said to you from the other side of the table as she kept talking with her friends.

and you thought you were going to have a good time, poor girl…

you slowly made your way to the door, hand reaching for the knob trembling

please don’t be him, please don’t be him, please don’t be him, please don’t be him—you repeated as you twisted the doorknob, hoping this would help with what was about to happen…

“hey, sorry i’m late-“ he didn’t finish his sentence before realizing the person who was opening the door for him was nobody but you

both of your eyes widened with shock and were paralyzed in your place, neither of you knowing what to do or say—that’s when his mom loudly called his name from across the room for him to come in

you moved to your side without saying anything or looking at him, signaling jungkook to come in—he walked uncomfortably next to you to go and take a seat.

you closed the door, debating if you should run away like you did yesterday or be a decent human being. you turned around and found him sitting right next to where you were—could this night get any better?

you returned to your seat, he noticed what he just did and looked at you for a second—it was like if he was analyzing you just the way you did to him on that day at ji yeong’s birthday or to his instagram stories

you didn’t look at him, all of your focus was on your food plate which now you weren’t so hungry to eat.

“i’m sorry, i didn’t know you were sitting here” he said trying to break down the conversation kindly

“well—if the only seats available are yours and the one next to you is empty right when i’m standing up it’s not that hard to guess, right?” you snapped cruelly and with a low voice so only he could hear you how mean you were being

he didn’t answer anything, he just looked at you for a couple more seconds and started talking to the other people close to you two. you instantly regretted that, why do you have to be so rude? he was just apologizing for something that wasn’t even his fault…

then, ji yeong’s mother interrupted your spiraling and his conversation with an awful question

“aww, did you guys work things out now that you’re sitting together?” she said with happiness in her voice “that’s so nice! you two were so close and cute together… it’s such a shame what happened between you” she didn’t even let you correct her before she kept talking

ji yeong violently pulled her seat close to her and whispered something to her mom—you and jungkook were just sitting there watching speeches and clearly annoyed by the comment.

after a second, she spoke again with regret and a little embarrassment escaping from her mouth

“i’m so sorry darling, i didn’t know you were still mad at each other…” is she serious right now?

ji yeong dragged her hands through her face in shame—you officially couldn’t do this anymore.

you threw your silverware to the table and got up of the table abruptly—you stomped your way up the stairs to your room, fuming anger at everything that just happened. could the world just give you a break?

you closed the door and began walking from side to side angrily, so mad you couldn’t even think straight.

you noticed an old, damaged box sitting in your desk—it was your memory box

your anger went away for a second, being replaced by curiosity.

you grabbed it and sat on your bed to take a good look at what was inside it. it was filled with movie tickets from years ago, old polaroids and three letters.

you read from who they were—two were from ji yeong, but the other one was one you had forgotten it’s existence

it was the letter jungkook had gave you the day he left—it had been closed inside the box during all this years, maybe it was finally time to read it. you didn’t feel ready, but you decided you shouldn’t wait anymore because there wouldn’t be a perfect occasion to do this.

the second you read the first line—your eyes blurred with tears, making it even more hard for you to read it

…

“while i’m writing this, i don’t really think you’ll read this. i know you’re too mad at me for everything, but in case you do read it—i just wanted to say i’m sorry, i’m so sorry. i shouldn’t have hidden this from you, but it was impossible for me to look at you in the eyes and say the truth—i never hid this just to hurt you, i would never do anything like that to you. i guess i was trying to protect you from something inevitable.

i’m sure you got a lot of questions about all of this right now, so i’ll explain some things to you

first of all i decided this just a month ago, you know me better than anybody so you know i never wanted to go away for college. i would love to just stay here with you by my side forever—but i got a scholarship in a really good college around six months ago. it’s my dream life against the life i love, and i know you would’ve always wanted me to chase my dreams no matter what.

it wasn’t an easy decision, especially considering what has happened between us the last weeks. i understand going away means leaving everything, literally everything. it means leaving my parents, my house, my friends, but on top of all—it means leaving you.

which leads me to my other point, i want it to be clear—you are the person i love the most in my life. i don’t know how i’m going to do this without your support, your jokes, your smile, our conversations between classes. i don’t know what to do without you, especially at this point.

the tough part of all of this isn’t leaving, it’s not knowing if this love will survive the distance.

i’ve had feelings about you since we started high school and i think you too.

you are the most amazing, funny, sweet, and gorgeous girl i’ll probably ever meet in my life. you get me better than i even do, and i don’t want our relationship to end, least of all like this.

i promise i’ll visit you whenever i can and i will call you every single day—it would be hard if it was about anyone, but not when it’s about you.

speaking of promises, i also want you to know i didn’t and i will never break our promise. i’ll always be close to you no matter where i am, because you will always have a special place in my heart, and you will always be on my mind.

but now i please ask you to, don’t break our promise either, stay close to me and please, just please come to the airport if you read this today. i want to look at your eyes, be with you until the last second i can, and kiss you before i leave for a long time. i don’t care if our parents see us, i will be away for them to ground me.

loves you, jungkook”

…

you were destroyed in every sense, you had never cried this hard before—you barely breathe anymore without sobs taking you apart, sadness was ripping your soul away, your eyes hurt and were a soft shade of red, your had a horrible headache, and you felt a huge lump in your throat

this whole time it wasn’t him who broke the promise, it was you. it was always you

you had caused all of this pain not to yourself, but also to jungkook. he tried to work things out and loved you until the last second, even though you treated him as if he didn’t deserve his dream.

you had to cover your mouth for how hard you were sobbing, you didn’t want to make a scene.

your heart shattered when thinking of his face that day at the airport, waiting for you with hopeful eyes until it was too late. he understood you hadn’t read his letter and never showed up.

someone suddenly came into your room, it was him. when he saw you like that his eyes lowered in pure sadness and pity.

“i’m sorry, i knocked like three times to check on you but you didn’t answer…” he explained quickly “i think i’m going to leave”

when he was about to turn around—you quickly got up and hugged him as if your life depended on it. jungkook was surprised and for a minute he stayed stiff, not returning the hug.

“i’m sorry jungkook…” “i’m so, so sorry…” you said against his chest, your sobs interrupting yourself.

you then felt his arms around your body, he was hugging you back now. he saw the old letter he had written a long time ago lying on your bed and quickly understood what was happening

“it’s okay, it’s okay now” he consoled you as he caressed the top of your head

“no, it’s not okay…” “i should have read the letter, i should have gone to the airport that day, i should have been there for you” you finally admitted and acknowledged your feelings while sobbing uncontrollably “and i shouldn’t have broken our promise” you said as you raised your head to look at him

it felt like it was just the two of you once again, he was holding you by your waist with both of his arms. he looked at you and you looked at him, both silent.

he looked for a split of a second to your lips and you couldn’t hold it together anymore. you pulled him closer and kissed him, feeling the warmth of his lips and the coldness of his lip piercings at the same time

at first you could see he was surprised—but he eventually melted into the kiss, grabbing the back of your head to deepen it as you holed into his shoulders

jungkook’s lips fit perfectly with yours, like if they were meant to meet again. he moved his lips slowly and gently, taking his time with you.

it was full of unspoken feelings, love and intimacy—you had never kissed someone this way before, this felt so meaningful… almost as if you were both apologizing for the past with each other’s mouths.

you both pulled away gasping for air but wanting more from one another. all the weight that you had for years in your body faded away almost magically

you were both in silence for a second before letting out a shy laugh just like you did when you were a couple of teenagers.

“i think we should go somewhere more private—i don’t think you want to get caught kissing the boy you supposedly hate, don’t you?” he asked playfully

“i never hated you jungkook” a minute of vulnerable silence followed “but i don’t want to get caught anyway” you chuckled

he let out a sincere smile

“right, should we go to my house? it isn’t too far” he dumbly joked

“you haven’t changed a bit, you know? let’s go” you said trying to hide how excited you were

you were both sneaking out of your house through the back door so nobody could see you and him—when you were out, he grabbed your hand and quickly guided you to his house, he was clearly just as desperate as you were

when you came in, he didn’t waste a second and started kissing you again against the door. this time was different though, it wasn’t sweet and tender anymore. it was hungry, needy and full of tongue

jungkook was wandering his hands through your body; starting from your jawline to have a better access to your mouth, following to the back of your neck—pulling some of your hair

a little, making your scalp hurt deliciously

you took your own time with him and touched every part of the muscles you’ve been dreaming about for the last weeks. you caressed his back, excited for scratching in some minutes. you followed by his broad shoulders and then your favorite part, his biceps

they were just irresistible. you couldn’t ignore how juicy they were, and they were probably the size of your own head. you softly squeezed them to feel them better, when he noticed he let out a soft chuckle in your kiss

“you sure are obsessed with me, aren’t you? liking my stories and everything…” he shot mockingly

“shut up” you simply said trying to hide how flushed you were while bringing him close to you to press your lips to his again

you smiled into the kiss and pulled him closer to you, making you feel all of his frame in detail—he accidentally dragged his hard bulge all across your wet and needy slit

you both moaned into the kiss due to the delicious friction between your legs.

you pulled away for a second before running out of breath—he was already looking at you, waiting for you to be ready again. he would leave you fucked up without a doubt.

“are you sure you want this?” jungkook asked you, clearly in pain because of the growing bulge in his jeans getting too uncomfortable for him

oh if he only knew how badly you wanted this

“just take me to your room jungkook” you said not even caring about how desperate you sounded anymore.

he picked you up from the floor in a matter of seconds, grabbing you by your hips with fingers dangerously close to the curve of your ass

as he went up the stairs to his bedroom, you wrapped your legs around his waist and started teasingly kissing his earlobe, moving to his sharp jawline—leaving red lipstick stains all over

you were about to devour his neck when you had already gotten to his room and he brutally threw you to his bed. he crawled into it too, caging all of you between his arms with a malicious look in his eyes

now jungkook was kissing your neck, you weren’t ready for it before a soft whimper left your lips. he groaned in your neck and it only made you get even more wet and anxious for feeling all of him.

he was biting all over your neck and you couldn’t care less if he left any marks, you just wanted him to keep going.

jungkook was alternating between soft bites and hard, open mouth kisses before he began to go lower, reaching for your collarbone. all you could do was hold into his hair, pulling it harshly. you could tell he was enjoying it from the soft whimpers escaping from him

he suddenly stopped—but just as you were about to protest, you saw him taking off his shirt. you finally had the perfect view of his torso.

it looked even better in person—he was perfectly ripped, toned abs and beautifully built chest decorated with a full sleeve tattoo in his right arm that extended to his chest

you were so hypnotized by your view you didn’t notice he was taking his jeans off too. you came out of your trance to remove all your clothes quickly, leaving you only in your black lace set.

both of you admired each other’s body without shame for some minutes, it was like if you were already fucking by simply looking at one another.

jungkook kept working on your neck, except he was now closer to your chest. you were so impatient you unclasped your bra in the blink of an eye, throwing it somewhere in the room

you were now half naked only for jungkook and he was speechless, admiring your tits like if they were a work of art. he didn’t waste a second before putting your right nipple in his mouth, rolling his hot tongue around it—contrasting with the cold metal in his piercings making you feel overwhelmingly good.

as it he wasn’t already driving you crazy enough, he removed your panties in a swift move to start playing with your deprived pussy

jungkook began with a soft rhythm, giving you time to get used to the pleasure. he was slowly dragging his fingers up and down your slit, spreading your wetness all over your core.

you arched your back signaling him you wanted more, he obediently increased his rhythm. jungkook’s fingers started moving faster and faster around your clit, even putting more pressure in it. his tongue was moving more skillfully too, sucking your perked and sensitive nipple smoothly

when he gently bit your nipple, soft skin being dragged lightly by his sharp teeth, you officially lost it. you were now scratching his back leaving some marks, moaning loudly and squirming under his touch

even though you thought you couldn’t handle it anymore, jungkook slid his two middle fingers inside your hot pussy while his thumb still focused in your swollen clitoris

you moaned so loud you thought for a second all the people at your house heard you.

you just couldn’t help it when he was curling his fingers right in the perfect spot of and was playing with your nipple so good

this was even better than your dream, the knot in your pelvis deepened and was increasingly closer of breaking.

you were a loud, wet mess when he applied the perfect amount of pressure to your center at the same time he reached for points inside of your pussy, you didn’t even know existed

your legs started trembling and shaking, signaling him you were about to reach your limit. but he didn’t slow down, in fact he pumped his fingers impossibly faster making you sob in pleasure

you came undone in his fingers, a little blush sparkling in your face by what you just did. you were going to apologize when he removed his fingers from you without a warning—making you squirm at the sudden feeling of emptiness. his hand traveled to his mouth, tasting every drop of your arousal—licking his fingers clean with no shame.

you gasped in surprise, a lustful look in jungkook’s eyes looking at every expression you made

he leaned in to kiss you once again, letting you taste yourself in his mouth. you were all turned on once again just by this—he awakened a side of yourself you had never seen before

he swirled his tongue all over your mouth intensely, savoring your own fluids when your mouths collided.

you couldn’t keep up with jungkook’s lips, he didn’t have a single piece of mercy anymore. he was kissing you hungrily—teeth nipping your lower lip making you whimper in pleasure.

“please…” you let out in an almost inaudible voice as he kept brutally kissing you

“please what?” jungkook asked teasingly, pretending not knowing what you wanted “tell me what you want baby” he just wanted to hear your say it.

“please… just fuck me jungkook…” you said practically begging for it with no embarrassment at all

he laughed at you, literally laughed at you. you didn’t care what he did as long as you had his dick inside you quickly

“since you asked so nicely, how could i say no to you?”

he finally freed his length off his black boxers, and you were just stunned. it was beautiful—it was fully erected, pink tip leaking a little precum touching his bellybutton.

it was simply perfect, so long and wide, with a few veins standing out. you were practically drooling at the sight of it when he started slowly dragging it around your entrance

he started looking in his nightstand for a condom without stopping his teasing.

“fuck…” jungkook said with a low sigh of frustration. you weren’t going to stop this, not when you couldn’t handle one more second without feeling him inside you.

“it doesn’t matter jungkook, i want you raw…” you whispered softly in his ear, knowing really well what you were doing.

his breath hitched, and before you could react—he slammed all of his dick inside your pussy at once, not giving you time for adjusting to his size

both of you moaned with pleasure, staying like that for a moment. you swear you could feel every single detail of his hardness in you, while he lost control over your hot, slimy insides

jungkook manhandled both of your legs to his shoulders, allowing him to go unbelievably deep—tip brushing your cervix

no man had ever reached that point, and it felt so amazing—making you discover new parts of your body.

he pulled out slowly and slammed roughly once again, the sound of your heavy breathings and skin slamming filled the room

jungkook kept a steady rhythm at the beginning, not wanting you to get hurt. you were loosing your mind—you had never felt so full in your life, moans and whimpers leaving your mouth shamelessly

but still, you wanted more of him. you needed more of it.

“f-faster…” you stuttered, your own pleasure not letting you speak properly

jungkook let out a primal, feral groan. in a heartbeat he started slamming in and out you violently fast, rough thrusts making the headboard hit the wall repeatedly

you looked at him in awe, his eyebrows were furrowed and chest going up and down rapidly. he was burying his dick aggressively hard on your drenched insides, cervix being hit consistently.

he then pushed his tatted hand fiercely against your lower tummy, making you feel him even better. you could feel his dick right in your guts. rough pistoning feeling more intense

your moans grew louder and louder—practically screaming his name like a prayer, the noises of your wet entrance slamming against him were everywhere

jungkook moved his hand to go a bit lower so he could reach your overstimulated clit one more time. he started circling it cruelly with his middle finger while he kept pressing your pelvis

thats when you felt it—tears running down your eyes. you had never cried from pleasure, but you were just so cock drunk you couldn’t help it, euphoria taking over your body.

the knot in your pelvis was about to break but you were so overwhelmed you couldn’t use your words, all you could do was keep gripping the bedsheets for your life

when jungkook slammed his dick especially hard into you, your orgasm broke without any warning—sending pleasure jolts all over you, making your toes curl, tears fall intensely and voice breaking

your pussy squeezed the life out of jungkook’s cock, causing him to moan in pleasure and spilling all of his hot cum inside of you

both of you were shuddering from the post orgasm moment, gasping for air and entire body going numb

he slowly pulled out of your pussy, feeling sore at the sudden absence of him.

jungkook threw himself into the bed right next to you, wrapping his arms around your waist and kissing your forehead—making you feel a warm sensation in your soul you haven’t felt in years.

“are you okay?” he asked checking on you concerned

“i’m more than okay…” you answered still trying to catch your breath but with a special glow in your eyes

you laid down in his bed for a couple of minutes, cuddling with each other before he said looking right into your eyes

“do you think it’s time to revive our promise?” he said unexpectedly with a hopeful look in his eyes

“yes, but i’d like to make one more promise to you” you replied while you brushed your fingers through his soft hair. jungkook looked at you with curious eyes waiting for you to speak

“i promise i’ll do things right this time” you said while staring at him, following by you giving him a cute kiss in the top of his head

[jeons2k]

‎୨ৎ hard to love ׄ ׅ ׄ part 2

ઇ synopsis. ten years after leaving his quiet hometown, jungkook finally returns home for the holidays at his mother’s request. he’s built himself into a man feared for his fists and known for his trouble, but the only person he’s ever cared about is the one he left behind: you, his childhood sweetheart. as old memories resurface and buried feelings ignite, jungkook finds himself fighting the one battle he never learned to win: earning back the trust and heart of the girl he’s loved since they were kids.

ઇ pairing/genre. biker!jungkook x fem!oc, grumpy x sunshine, “he hates everyone but her + she loves everyone but him”, childhood frienemies to lovers, slow burn, fluff, angst, eventual smut

ઇ warnings/tags. mentions of injury, tiny bit of angst ( js a lil fight), 2 days time skip, yearner jk!! (wohooo), fluff!!, oc’s “friends” suck lwk (oc’s bestie got her back tho dw!!), we js love mandy, jk needa set some boundaries frfr, mentions of past hookups/masturbations, oblivious/naive oc, jealous jk, equally jealous oc, insecure oc :(, major misunderstanding, alcohol consumption, uncon touching (not jk), jk punches smo, the talk!!!!, silly tears, silly fight, fluffy fluff

ઇ wc. around 18k ,, part 1 (18k) ,, part 3

roxe’s notes. it’s finally here guys u hv no idea how loud i was cheering (and stressing tf out) while posting this 🙏🏻 i swear this story took way longer than i planned, and yeah… it’s officially not a twoshot anymore. surprise! if you guessed a pt 3, u’re absolutely right!! i still hv sm planned for these two, i’m nowhere near done with them yet lols, stay with me a little longer, okay?

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ 𓎢𓎠୨ৎ𓎠𓎡

jungkook could barely see his own hands in front of his face. the wind screamed, and the snow was so deep it sucked at his boots with every step.

where are you? where the fuck are you? your name was the only thing in his head. he shouted it out loud, but the wind ripped the sound away. he felt like he was totally losing his mind. his heart was beating so damn fast and hard it was painful. he was sweating inside his jacket despite the cold that seared his skin.

if something happened to you..fuck– he couldn’t finish the thought. it felt like a black hole opening up in his chest. just let me find you. just be okay. fuck, be okay.

but then he heard it. a sharp, high bark.

he stopped, straining to listen. had he imagined it? but it came again, clearer this time. rocky.

“here! here, boy!” he yelled, pushing toward the sound.

he saw a dark, scruffy shape moving in the blur. it was rocky. the little dog barked once at him, then turned and darted a few feet away, stopping to look back.

jungkook understood right away. you were with the dog. the thought alone was enough to force his legs to move, following the little brown blur before he lost sight of it in the swirling snow.

a few yards ahead, he heard a new sound. a soft, pained whimper.

his blood went cold. that’s you.

he roared, your name tearing from his throat as he lunged forward, crashing through snow and brush toward the sound.

and there you were. a small, huddled shape against the trunk, dusted with snow as rocky was pressed against your side.

he skidded to a stop, breathing so hard it hurt. relief hit him so hard it made him feel dizzy, you were here, fuck, you were alive. but it was instantly swamped by a new, sharper fear when he saw how still you were.

you looked up, your movements slow. your eyes were wide in the dark. “…jungkook?” you whispered, your voice faint and thin.

he was on his knees in the snow in front of you in an instant, his big hands hovering over you, afraid to touch. where are you hurt? what’s broken? “are you hurt? where are you hurt?” the words came out rough filled with worry, very unfamiliar even to his own ears.

you gave him a weak, wobbly smile. “i’m okay, really. i just… i tripped over a branch i couldn’t see. i was running after rocky and my foot twisted.” you even let out a soft, breathless laugh. “so clumsy of me.”

he didn’t laugh, he didn’t smile. his eyes instantly dropped to your ankle, then snapped back to your face. your cheeks were flushed from the cold, your lips were pale, trembling, but that damn gentle smile was still trying to stay on your face. you’re hurt and cold for fucks sake and you’re still smiling. how are you even real?

“can you stand?” he asked, his voice tight.

you blinked, then braced a hand on the tree to try and push yourself up. you gasped, a sharp little sound of pain, and fell back immediately. “oh– um, not really,” you admitted, sounding embarrassed. you tried to laugh it off. “but i’m okay! really, it’s fine.”

he completely dismissed your words. fuck, you’re not fine. you can’t even walk. “hold the dog,” he ordered, his tone leaving no room for argument.

confused, you gathered rocky tighter against your chest. “what are you–ah!”

before you could finish, he slid one arm under your knees and the other behind your back. in one easy motion, he stood up, lifting you off the frozen ground as if you were weightless. you let out a soft squeak of surprise, one arm clutching rocky, the other hand flying to fist the thick material of his jacket over his chest for balance.

he pulled you in close, tucking you firmly against his chest, trying to shield you from the cold wind. you were so light in his arms. you were freezing, he could feel you trembling against him. he didn’t say a word. he just turned, adjusted his grip to hold you more securely, and started walking through the deep snow, carrying you out of the dark woods.

jungkook broke through the treeline and the faint lights of the village hall came into view. a small crowd had gathered outside, wrapped in coats and scarves despite the storm. one of the men saw you first.

“they’re back! he found her!”

the first person to reach you was your mother. her face was streaked with tears, her eyes wide with panic.

“my baby! are you okay? are you hurt?” she sobbed, reaching for you but stopping, afraid to touch.

“i’m okay, mama, i’m fine, please don’t cry,” you said quickly, your voice gentle, trying to soothe her.

you then turned your head toward jungkook, your voice dropping to an embarrassed whisper only he could hear. “you can put me down now, please. this is so embarrassing.”

he didn’t even look at you. “you twisted your ankle. you’re not walking on it,” he said flatly, his grip not loosening in the slightest.

your mother heard him. “what? her ankle! oh, no, great god, did you break it?”

“no, no, mama! it’s just a little twist, really, it’s nothing,” you insisted, feeling awful for causing such a fuss.

mrs. jeon appeared at her son’s side, her own face etched with worry. “jungkook, son, get her inside. it’s freezing. we need to look at that ankle and get her warm.”

you’d almost forgotten rocky was still squished between your chest and jungkook’s. the little dog gave a sharp, impatient bark and started wiggling his legs.

you giggled softly despite the situation. “okay, okay, lil’ boy.” you loosened your arms just enough, and rocky leapt down into the snow, immediately rolling onto his back.

jungkook glanced down at your face when you laughed, his expression remained unreadable, before looking back at the path.

“to our house, jungkook,” your mother instructed, wiping her eyes. “i’ll go get the first aid kit. mandy, my dear, you bring anastasia in–!”

jungkook just gave a short nod and started walking, straight down the lane toward your house. he moved with steady pace, ignoring everyone else.

that’s when you became fully aware of the eyes. so many eyes. all the villagers who had been searching or waiting were now staring.

a hot, mortifying flush spread from your neck to your cheeks. you were being carried through the village like a lost child. by jungkook. in front of everyone. jayden and cynthia were probably watching too. you wanted to sink into the snow and disappear. you tried to make yourself smaller in his arms, turning your face in toward his jacket to hide. this was a hundred times worse than the twisted ankle. the pain was nothing compared to the sheer, soul-crushing embarrassment of this moment.

. . .

mandy helped you get settled in your bed, propping your wrapped ankle on a pillow. mrs. anastasia, the village’s retired nurse, had checked it thoroughly.

“it’s just a mild ligament sprain,” she said to your mother. “nothing’s broken. it will be sore and a bit swollen for a few days. just keep it elevated, put ice on it tonight, and use this cream in the morning to keep the bruising down. she should be walking on it carefully in two or three days.”

your mother looked like she might faint from relief. mrs. jeon patted her back. and jungkook… well, he was still there. he’d carried you all the way to your house, set you down in your bed with a surprising gentleness, and hadn’t left. he stood off to the side, leaning against the doorframe of your bedroom, arms crossed. he hadn’t said a word since they brought you inside. he was just… there. a large, silent, and strangely watchful presence.

you felt bad, because you hadn’t even thanked him yet. despite everything, despite how much he annoyed you, he had gone out into a blizzard to find you and carried you home. you weren’t so stubborn that you couldn’t acknowledge that.

once the adults left to talk in the kitchen, mandy fluffed your covers. “girl i was so worried about you!” she said, her usual playful tone gone, replaced by real fear.

“i’m really sorry,” you said softly, your voice full of genuine regret. “i didn’t mean to scare everyone.”

mandy sat on the edge of the bed. “i was looking everywhere for you inside. and then i saw jungkook. he just… bolted out the doors. like someone had lit him on fire. he looked terrified. and i just knew it had something to do with you.”

her words made your neck grow embarrassedly warm. jungkook? terrified? for you? you remembered his face in the woods, the raw panic in his voice when he asked if you were hurt. the thought that he could feel that way because you were in trouble sent a weird, fluttering feeling through your stomach. oh god, stop it. that’s ridiculous.

mandy, seeing your blush, couldn’t resist. a teasing glint returned to her eyes. “and then when he came back carrying you… like wow. it was like something out of a movie. prince charming and the damsel in distress.”

you groaned, hiding your face in your hands. “mandy, don’t! it was so embarrassing. and he’s not a prince, not even close to being one. he’s… he’s too much of a…” you fumbled, your tongue tripping over the word. “…a jerk for that.”

mandy laughed. “okay, okay. not a prince. a knight, then. your own personal knight in a leather jacket. your knight in slightly scuffed armor.”

“mandy!” you whined, but you were laughing now too, the sound a little wobbly but real. she was trying to make you feel better, and it was working.

“alright, alright i’ll stop,” she said, grinning. “i’m going to go get you some of that chicken soup your mom was reheating. you need something warm.” she stood up and smoothed your blanket.

“thank you,” you said, your smile soft and grateful.

“anytime, sunshine,” she said, and slipped out of the room, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

not even two minutes later, you heard a soft knock on your bedroom door.

that was quick, you thought. mandy must have sprinted. but wait… mandy never knocked? she usually just barged in calling your name. “that was so fast,” you said out loud, a little laugh in your voice. “mandy, did you just–”

the door pushed open. the person who stepped inside was not mandy. it was jungkook. he was holding a steaming bowl of soup carefully in both hands, he nudged the door shut behind him with his foot. a familiar, teasing smirk touched his lips. “didn’t know i looked like your friend, hm? that’s a new one.”

you blinked, completely thrown. “what are you doing here? mandy was getting the soup.”

he walked over and carefully set the bowl on your nightstand. “your mom asked me to bring it. i, uh, stumbled into your friend on the way.” the lie came out too smoothly. in reality, he’d been hovering in the hallway, heard your mom talk about the soup, and he’d volunteered, “i’ll take it.” he’d needed an excuse to come in here, to see for himself that you were really okay. you didn’t need to know that, though.

you huffed, looking from the soup to him and back. it felt incredibly strange having him in your room. this was your own personal sacred space, you’d never had a guy in your bedroom. ever. and definitely not this guy, the one who’d been the source of so much childhood (and now, adulthood) irritation. his large presence made the room (and you) feel so much smaller.

“eat,” he said, nodding at the bowl when you just stared at it. when you didn’t move, the smirk returned. “what, want me to feed you? bet you do, hm?”

“no!” you said quickly, your cheeks flushing warm. you scrambled to grab the bowl.

“careful. it’s hot,” he muttered, his hands coming up to help you steady the tray on your lap. his fingers brushed yours, and you flinched back slightly. he just smirked at your reaction.

you blew on a spoonful and took a small sip. it was good, warm and savory. jungkook had sat down on the edge of your bed, near your feet. the quiet felt heavy, intimate in a way that made your skin prickle. the only sounds were the wind outside and your spoon clinking against the bowl.

after a few bites, you cleared your throat. “why are you still here?”

he shrugged. “watching you. make sure you don’t spill it.”

“i’m not a child,” you said, rolling your eyes.

“could’ve fooled me,” he shot back, his tone playful but with an underlying edge. “running off into a blizzard and all.”

you ate another spoonful, then set the spoon down. you just remembered that you hadn’t thanked him yet. you took a quiet breath. “uh, thank you,” you mumbled, not looking at him.

“huh?”

you glanced up. “i said thank you. for… you know. saving me.”

his playful expression vanished. his face went still, then serious. his eyes darkened, as well. and for a long moment, he just looked at you, his jaw tight. then he said, low and firm, “don’t do it again.”

you frowned. “i’m not planning to. i was just trying to find rocky. how could i leave him out there? he’s so small, he’d be terrified.”

“you could’ve told someone,” jungkook said, his voice dropping. “a man. you could’ve told me.”

your frown deepened, confused and a little hurt. “you? we’re not… we’re not even friends like that. and you seemed busy anyway.” you remembered the sight of him and cynthia after the race, her hand on his arm, their easy proximity. of course he’d been busy.

on the other hand, the memory of cynthia or the stupid race hadn’t even crossed jungkook’s mind. all he could think about was you, alone in the dark, and how worried sick he was. “you’re just being stubborn,” he said, frustration leaking into his tone. “just because i like to annoy you doesn’t mean you can’t ask me for help when you actually need it. you’re not a child.”

it felt like a scolding. you’d spent your whole life being the good girl, the sweet one, the helper. you were praised for your kindness, never reprimanded. which is why being talked to like this, especially by him, made a hot, tight lump form in your throat. your eyes began to sting.

“it all happened so fast,” you said, your voice growing thick. “i didn’t have time to think! i just had to find him quickly. i couldn’t let him out there to freeze. it’s not my fault!”

jungkook, too wrapped up in his own churning frustration, the terror of not finding you, the way your stupid, selfless kindness was going to get you hurt, missed the tears welling in your eyes. “you had plenty of time. you were with that jayden guy right?” the name was like poison on his tongue. “if you couldn’t ask me, why not ask him instead?” he hated the thought, but the idea of that prick in the storm was still better than you being out there.

“i wasn’t with him at that time! how could i ask him?” you protested. then it hit you. jayden’s invitation, the hang out you planned after the festival. you’d completely forgotten about it. “oh…” you murmured, more to yourself, feeling guilty. “oh my goodness, i should probably apologize to him for not being able to meet up…”

even though you were just talking to yourself, jungkook heard. he groaned, dragging a hand down his face. when he looked at you, his eyes were hard. “you should stay away from that guy.”

“huh? why?” you were genuinely bewildered. jayden was a kind man, and he was little matthew’s brother. “why would i do that?”

“you need to start being more careful about who you hang out with,” he said, his voice taking on a harder, more scolding edge. “stop trusting everyone so damn easily.”

the lump in your throat swelled. the frustration, the fear from the storm, the whiplash of his moods. it all boiled over. why was he yelling at you like that? he was so confusing, he was confusing you. your vision blurred slightly.

“stop it!” you said, your voice cracking. a single tear escaped and rolled down your cheek. you swiped at it angrily. “stop scolding me like i’m a child! just… just leave me alone!”

jungkook only groaned, his frustration boiling over. "i wouldn't be saying any of this if you weren't acting like one!" he stopped short when he finally saw the tears welling in your eyes. fuck. he’d made you fucking cry. a sharp pang of guilt cut through his anger.

“stop crying,” he said, his voice dropping, trying for calm but coming out strained.

you huffed, wiping angrily at your cheeks. “just leave. i don't want to see you.” you sniffed, completely hurt and confused. how could he scold you like that and then pretend to care?

“no,” he said, firm. “you need to finish your food. stop being stubborn.” he hated seeing you cry. it made his chest feel tight. but you needed to hear this, not everyone in this village was an angel like you. not even close.

“i don't want to,” you said, looking away and crossing your arms. you were pouting, and a part of you knew you were only proving his point, but you were too upset to care. for a moment, just a tiny one, you’d thought maybe he wasn’t so bad. but you were completely wrong.

jungkook cursed under his breath. he leaned over and carefully moved the soup tray from your lap back to the nightstand. as he did, his eyes caught on a painting leaning against the wall. it was a landscape of the view from your window, but it wasn’t just a copy. the way you'd captured the light on the winter trees was... stunning.

you side-eyed him, curious about the sudden silence.

"did you paint this?" he asked, his voice different. softer.

you sniffled, considering ignoring him. but that would be childish, so you glanced at the painting. “yeah,” you hummed, your voice small.

jungkook’s eyes widened slightly. he knew you liked to draw as a kid, but this... damn, this was something else. “this is insanely good,” he said, almost to himself. he looked around, really looking for the first time. there were more canvases, some on the floor, a few hanging. a detailed portrait of your mother, a vibrant study of wildflowers. they were all beautiful as hell. seriously beautiful. fuck, these should be in a fucking gallery.

you blushed at the praise, muttering a quiet, “thank you.”

jungkook was so lost in thought. “tae would lose his mind over these,” he muttered, more to himself than to you.

you frowned. “tae?”

jungkook turned back to you, his expression intense. “listen. have you ever thought about doing this for real? like, as a career?” he gestured at your paintings.

you blinked, genuinely taken aback. you looked at your work. “..no?” you said, but it came out more like a question. it was a hesitant and unsure sound.

jungkook looked at the paintings again. they were miles better than the pretentious stuff his friend taehyung was always trying to get him to appreciate at his gallery. “you could make a fortune,” he said, the idea making more sense as he spoke. “my friend taehyung owns a gallery. he sometimes helps new artists get shows– i could talk to him. he’d want these.”

you stared at him. it wasn’t the offer itself that stunned you; it was the serious, certain way jungkook said it. make a fortune? out of these? you looked at your paintings. you knew for a fact that they weren’t bad. but to put them on display for others to see? to sell them? they were just... your quiet little hobby. something you did to relax. they weren’t even that good.

you shook your head. “they’re not that good. i wouldn’t want to waste your friend’s time. they’re just... doodles.”

jungkook looked at you like you’d just told him someone put spray on his bike. his brows shot up. “i don't know shit about art,” he said flatly. “but i know when something’s good. and this,” he pointed at the landscape, his finger almost touching the canvas, “this is sick. this is a real artist’s work.”

you were speechless. no one had ever praised your work like that, especially not him. the guy who usually only had teasing or scowls for you. “i... i don't know,” you whispered. the idea was just...too big, too scary. painting was a dream you’d tucked away a long time ago, something unrealistic and far away from your quiet life. you had no degree, no real experience. and even if you said yes... it would mean going to the city, dealing with strangers, with jungkook’s friend... and why was he even offering this? it didn’t make any sense. why were you even considering it the first place?

the conflict was clear on your face. jungkook moved closer, sitting on the edge of the bed again. “i’m being serious, little bear. you just have to say yes and i’ll handle the rest."

your heart was pounding. why was he even doing this? jungkook, of all people? he was confusing you! wasn’t he just yelling at you? was this some unfunny prank? like when he’d ruin your drawings as a kid, only to laugh at your tears? “why are you doing this?” you asked, your voice trembling. “we’re not even friends. are you... are you trying to play a trick on me?”

it felt like a slap. the doubt in your voice, the complete lack of trust, it hit him harder than any punch. you trusted everyone but him. the thought alone left a bitter taste in his throat. he’d seen how easily you smiled at people who talked behind your back, and yet you couldn’t believe a single sincere thing from him. it hurt. it hurt in a deep, angry way that shocked him. but why does it matter this much to him? and then it clicked, hard and undeniable. fuck. because he like you, didn’t he? he really, really like you.

he groaned, running a hand through his hair. “i’m not joking and i’m definitely not playing a prank. i’m being dead serious right now."

but you were still doubtful. “but why would you even want to help me? why would you do that?”

“why wouldn’t i?!" he snapped, frustration flaring again.

“because it’s you!” you fired back, your own frustration rising. “you’re jungkook! the jungkook i know always makes fun of me! this doesn’t make any sense! why would you ever–”

“because i like you, okay?!” the words burst out of him, loud and raw in the quiet room.

you stopped dead, staring at him.

he barreled on. “i’m doing this because i fucking like you! can’t you get that?” saying it out loud was strange, terrifying, and yet it felt more real than anything else he’d ever said all night. yeah. he does. he really fucking does.

“...what?” your voice was a whisper. jungkook... liked you? you were so startled you felt dizzy. it had to be a joke. “that’s not funny,” you said, your voice eerily calm, belying the storm inside of you.

jungkook froze. “funny? what do you mean?” he’d braced for rejection, for a gentle let-down. not this.

“it’s not funny to lie about your feelings just for a joke!” you said, your calm cracking, voice rising. “it’s not funny at all! i know you’re just messing with me!”

his expression shifted from confusion to something like desperation. “i’m not being funny! i’m not joking, and i’m sure as hell not playing a sick prank on you! i like you! i liked you when we were kids, and i like you even more now! as a woman!” the confession hung between you, heavy and undeniable.

your heart was hammering so hard you thought it might break your ribs. this couldn’t be real. he was being cruel. “it’s stupid to think i’d believe you!” you cried, your emotions a tangled, hurt mess. “you’ve liked annoying me since we were kids! you liked playing pranks on me! and now you suddenly like me? don’t lie about this, jungkook! or... or is this what you tell all the girls? is this what you told cynthia?” you didn’t even know why you said her name. it just fell out, fueled by a confusing pang of hurt you refused to name.

“cynthia?” jungkook looked genuinely baffled, then angry. “this has nothing to do with her, or anyone else in this goddamn village! yeah, i annoyed you! to get your attention! i would never hurt you on purpose, and you know that so well! look at me, y/n! i’m being for real!”

your breath came in shaky gasps. “no,” you muttered.

“what?”

“no,” you said again, stronger, shaking your head. “no, no, no. you’re lying. i can’t... i can’t trust you!” you didn’t even know why you were so agitated, so hurt. for a split second, hearing his confession had made something in you leap with a wild, almost unreal hope. but then reality crashed back. this was jungkook. and the thought that he might be lying, that this might be his worst trick yet, felt like a physical pain. did you... like him? the question alone terrified you, so you buried it under anger and disbelief.

jungkook just stood there, watching the distress on your face. so you really didn’t trust me at all. he’d expected a kind rejection. he’d even, in his most selfish moments, hoped for a yes. but this? this complete disbelief, this assumption that his feelings were a weapon to hurt you... it was worse. it carved something out of him.

no. no he wouldn’t let it end like this. not like this. if you didn’t trust him now, he’d make you. he’d prove it. he’d show you how fucking sincere he was. he’d do anything, anything, to be the one person you could finally rely on.

he held your gaze for one long, heavy moment, his own eyes full of a frustrated, determined intensity. then, without another word, he turned and left the room, closing the door softly behind him. leaving you alone with the echo of his confession and a heart more confused than ever.

. . .

it had been two days since the “incident.” and by incident, you mostly meant the storm, and you getting lost in it, and jungkook rescuing you. but if you were being brutally honest with yourself in the quiet of your own thoughts, the real incident was jungkook confessing that he liked you. which you were 99% sure was just a terrible, mean-spirited joke.

your ankle was doing way better now. you could walk on it, though it hurt if you put too much weight on it or tried to stand on your tiptoes. over the last two days, your little house had felt like a receiving line. so many people from the village had come by to check on you, bringing little gifts; jars of honey, knitted socks, pots of hearty stew. they’d pat your hand and say, “we were so worried, dear! get well soon!” it warmed your heart so much. people were so kind.

jayden had visited too. you’d apologized again for missing your plans. he’d smiled gently and said, “it’s fine. we’ll catch up when you’re better.” even the girls; jessica, sophia, and cynthia as well, had stopped by with a box of your favorite lemon tarts. “feel better,” cynthia had said with a tight smile. you’d thought it was incredibly sweet of them all.

mrs. jeon had practically moved in, helping your mother with cooking and cleaning since you were supposed to stay off your feet. you felt so grateful and a little guilty, desperate to get better so you could pay back all their kindness.

you’d thought, maybe hoped, you wouldn’t see much of jungkook after that night. but you were so wrong.

he’d been there almost constantly. helping your mom carry firewood, fixing a wobbly step on the porch, sitting in your living room talking with the mothers. he acted like nothing had happened. he still teased you, called you that stupid nickname, mocked you for being a slow eater. but what truly threw you off guard was the new habit he’d picked up, that he’d weave into the most ordinary moments.

he’d see you trying to sneak out of bed. “get back in there, little bear. i like you too much to let you hurt yourself.”

he’d walk past you in the hall. “out of my way, short stuff– just kidding, i like you.”

it was constant. non stop. and it did things to you. it made you blush furiously, made your heart do a stupid little back flip. sometimes, a tiny, traitorous smile would touch your lips before you could stop it. but then you’d shake your head hard. no. he was just committed to the bit. jungkook was a competitive guy; if a prank wasn’t working, he’d double down. that’s all this was.

a quiet, hidden part of you that you refused to examine, really wanted to believe him. you didn’t know why, and you didn’t want to know why. the other part of you was scared, confused, and absolutely convinced it was a childish trick.

you’d never really dated anyone properly. you’d sure had innocent crushes. you’d gone out with a boy from the next village over when you were eighteen, but it fizzled out after two months when his family moved. you knew everyone here, had known them forever. new faces were rare, like jayden’s family when they moved in a few years ago, but you’d never felt that way about jayden. so jungkook’s casual “i like you”s were a first. the first time a man had ever said those words to you in that way. and the fact that the man was jungkook made the whole thing feel absurd, unreal. and what made even less sense was how much it affected you.

currently, you were at the market with mandy, two days before christmas, hunting for last-minute decorations.

“these glass baubles are so pretty,” mandy said, holding up a box of delicate, silver-streaked ornaments.

“they are,” you agreed, smiling. you picked up two packages. “we should get some for the big tree in the square, too.”

mandy paid for them and took the bag. you were already carrying two other bags full of ribbons and candles.

as you moved toward the next stall, mandy gently took the bags from your hands. “you shouldn’t be carrying things, princess.”

you whined playfully. “mandy, it’s been two days! it’s fine! give them back, i can hold them!”

she held the bags out of your reach. “nuh-uh. mrs. anastasia’s orders. well, my orders. i’m not letting you.”

you laughed. “you’re treating me like i’m a pregnant lady, not someone with a mildly sore ankle.”

“same thing! you need to be pampered,” she insisted, grinning.

just then, the low growl of a motorcycle engine cut through the market chatter. you both turned.

jungkook pulled up to the curb, killing the engine. “ladies,” he said, his voice a familiar rumble. “need any help?”

mandy’s eyes lit up with mischief. “actually, yes! it would be great if you could take these bags.” she shoved your shopping bags into his hands before you could protest. then she added, her voice bright, “you know what would be even greater? if you gave our patient here a ride home, yeah?”

your eyes went wide almost instantly. “what?! mandy, no! i definitely do not need a ride! and we still have more stuff to get!”

mandy completely ignored you. she put her hands on your shoulders and pushed you toward jungkook and his bike. “nope, we’re done. anastasia’s orders, remember? rest well, sweetheart!” she leaned close to jungkook, whispering something you couldn’t hear, then stepped back. she waved at you, her smile triumphant, and mouthed, a ‘thank me later!’

you just stood there, blinking, trying to process how your best friend set you up like that in broad daylight.

you heard jungkook chuckle. “i like your friend,” he said, securing the bags to his bike.

you finally looked at him, flustered.

he met your gaze, that infuriating, knowing smirk on his lips. he leaned in a little. “of course, i like you more.” his voice was low, just for you.

a furious, immediate heat rushed from your chest to your face. what was wrong with you?! you wanted to be angry, to call him out on his game. but all you could do was stand there, a blush staining your cheeks, more confused than ever.

. . .

you weren’t entirely sure how he managed it, but somehow he got you seated behind him on his rumbling motorcycle. you clung to the worn leather of his jacket, your arms wrapped around his waist as he navigated the familiar lanes back to your house. your bags of decorations were wedged securely between his body and the bike’s gas tank, held in place by one of his arms.

the ride was short, but it felt longer with the feel of him against you and the wind in your hair. he pulled into your driveway and turned off the engine, the sudden quiet feeling loud.

before you could even swing your leg over, he was off the bike and turning to help you. his hands were at your waist, steadying you as you slid down, his touch careful, making sure you landed on your good foot.

“i’m fine, really. you don’t have to do that,” you mumbled, flustered by the unnecessary assistance.

as soon as you were stable, you reached for your shopping bags, but jungkook was faster. in one smooth motion, he scooped them up, holding them out of your reach.

“hey!” you whined, making a grab for them. “give them back. i can carry them!”

he held the bags higher, a smirk playing on his lips as he looked down at you. “and tire out the girl i like? i don’t think so.”

there it was again. the words landed with the same impact they always did, turning your insides to warm jelly and sending a flush straight to your cheeks. you hated that it still worked. it should have lost its power by now, but if anything, it was only getting worse.

you huffed, biting back the whine on your tongue because you knew anything you said would just encourage him even more. instead, you did the only thing you could think of; you stomped your uninjured foot childishly, turned on your heel, and marched as best you could toward your front door, leaving him to follow.

you could practically feel the wide smirk on his face behind you, delighted by your flustered reaction, and it only made you walk faster, your heart doing a ridiculous, giddy dance against your ribs that you refused to acknowledge.

once you got inside, the quiet house immediately told you your mom wasn’t home. you remembered her saying she’d be at mrs. jeon’s with the other village women for a big knitting circle. maybe this was a good chance to bake something. you could bring them some fresh biscuits as a thank you for all their help over the last two days. the idea itself made you smile.

you headed for the kitchen. out of the corner of your eye, you saw jungkook step inside too. he set the shopping bags down neatly by the little potted fern in the hall.

“your mom’s at mine,” he said, leaning against the kitchen doorframe, arms crossed. “in case you were wondering.”

you glanced at him as you dried your hands on a towel. “i know. she told me.”

he made a face. “couldn’t stand another minute over there. all the aunties trying to shove their daughters at me, asking when i’m going to ‘court’ someone.” he said the word ‘court’ like it was a disease. his eyes followed your hands as you started adding flour into a mixing bowl.

“they probably don’t realize what an annoying son-in-law you’d be,” you said lightly, focusing on the recipe.

he snorted. “yeah. and they definitely don’t know i’ve already got my eyes on one little short stuff with a permanent angry pout.”

just as he said it, you were cracking an egg. the words made your hand jump, and the eggshell crumbled into the bowl along with the yolk.

“oh!” you yelped, staring at the mess.

jungkook pushed off the doorframe and came over. “you’re a clumsy one too, i forgot to add,” he said, a hint of laughter in his voice.

“you’re distracting me,” you said, pursing your lips as you tried to fish out the shell pieces with a spoon.

he took the spoon from your hand gently. “here.” he carefully picked out the larger bits. “i’m flattered, by the way. that i’m so… radiant i can ruin your baking.”

his tone was playful, flirty, and you didn’t know how to respond, so you just turned to the sink to wash your hands, trying to hide how fast your heart was beating. your cheeks felt hot. how could he say things like that so easily? and why did it work every single time? by blushing like this, you were giving him exactly what he wanted, and you hated it.

just as you turned back to the counter, jungkook’s phone rang. he cursed under his breath and fished it out of his jacket pocket. he looked at the screen, a slight scowl forming, before answering.

you were secretly relieved his focus was off you. you cracked a new egg into the bowl and started mixing, trying to ignore him.

“wassup, mad,” jungkook said into the phone. his voice was completely different. it was deeper, flatter, with none of the playful lightness he used with you. he didn’t say much. just low hums of acknowledgment, the occasional “yeah,” or a short, gruff reply that wasn’t very polite. you didn’t mean to eavesdrop, it was rude, but he was standing right there, not making any effort to lower his voice, and you couldn’t exactly block it out.

you concluded the caller, “mad,” was a woman. you could hear the faint, high tone of a feminine voice through the phone. you’d never heard a girl’s name like “mad” before. maybe it was short for madison? maddie? or maybe madeline? you didn’t know, and you told yourself you didn’t want to know.

but it bothered you. jungkook had a pet name for this girl. they also sounded so close and comfortable. he was talking about things you had no clue about, something about a gym, equipments, double keys. did they share a house? was she more than a friend? was she his… girlfriend back in the city? but then why would he keep saying he liked you? was the whole thing just a joke after all? the thought shouldn’t have hurt, but it did, a sharp little pinch under your ribs. it’s none of your business, you scolded yourself. it’s none of your business who she is or what she is to him.

“yeah. bye,” jungkook said abruptly, ending the call.

you quickly slid the tray of biscuits into the preheated oven and closed the door. when you glanced over, jungkook was still on his phone, his thumbs moving quickly over the screen, probably typing out a message to someone. the focused, almost serious look on his face was totally opposite to the teasing man who’d been flirting with you moments before, and it left you feeling more confused than ever.

without looking up, jungkook asked a sudden, random question. “do you have an instagram?”

you stopped wiping the counter, blinking at him. was he asking for your... instagram? why would he want that? your mind went blank for a second.

he must have noticed your silence, because he finally lifted his head from his phone to look at you. a small, knowing smirk played on his lips. “i followed a couple of the girls from here. scrolled through their followers. didn’t see your username pop up. unless you’re undercover or something.” his tone was light, teasing.

you blinked again. well, you actually didn’t have instagram. in fact, you didn’t have any social media, really. you’d just never been interested, it wasn’t really your thing. sometimes though, your mom would show you a couple of silly videos, but that would be it. but wait– he already has other girls’ instagrams? when did he even get those? did he get cynthia’s as well ? mandy would have told you if he’d followed her, but she hardly ever used social media anyway. but why does that even matter to you?!

“i… i don’t have one,” you said finally.

jungkook raised an eyebrow, his smirk growing. “wait. don’t tell me you don’t even have a phone?”

you looked at him, wide-eyed. “what? of course i have a phone! i just… i don’t use it that much. but i do have one!”

your flustered, defensive reply only amused him more. he chuckled. “chill, kitty. i was just kidding.” he gave you a quick wink that made your stomach do a stupid flip.

“why were you even looking for my profile?” you asked, trying to sound casual and totally failing.

he shrugged, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “why wouldn’t i?” that simple answer left you momentarily speechless. he continued, his voice dropping into a playful tone. “thought it’d be a good way to annoy you when i’m not around. send you stupid memes or something.”

you huffed, and without really thinking, you fired back, “you could just do that through regular text messages with my number. you don’t need my instagram.”

as soon as the words left your mouth, you knew it was a mistake and you wished to take back every word.

jungkook’s smirk widened into a full, wide grin. his eyes sparkled with mischief. “oh damn. is that your way of asking for my number? that’s a nice one, i’m impressed.”

you froze, your face heating up. “what? no! i wasn’t asking for your number! i was just… stating a fact!”

“yeah, yeah, whatever you say, sweetie,” he said, waving a dismissive hand, his grin never fading. “so, you wanna give me your number now? i kinda like your idea better.”

you just stared at him, baffled. why was he talking to you like this? and why did your heart feel like it was tap-dancing? “no,” you said, trying to sound firm. “i don’t want you bothering me with dumb messages. and i told you, i don’t use my phone much anyway!”

he took a step closer, leaning in slightly. “you never know. there might be a time you need me, for a ride or maybe a favor. it’s more practical, don’t you think?” and before you could protest further, he added, his voice dropping to a low, confident murmur, “you can always block me if i get too much, yeah? do we have a deal?” he held your gaze, his dark eyes steady and challenging.

you thought about it. he already had other people’s socials. if you made a big deal out of this, he’d just tease you more, call you childish. and it was just a phone number, it didn’t mean anything.

you huffed, crossing your arms. “fine.”

his smirk widened into a victorious smile. he opened his mouth to say something else, but then his eyes flickered over your shoulder. he tilted his head. “hey, little bear. your biscuits are about to burn.”

“oh!” you jumped, spinning around and rushing to the oven to pull out the perfectly golden, not-burnt biscuits. your heart was racing, and you weren’t sure if it was from the almost-burnt pastries or the man still leaning against your kitchen counter. definitely the latter.

. . .

jungkook was lying on his old childhood bed. it was the same creaky, narrow one from when he was a teenager, and now it felt way too small for his broader shoulders and even taller legs. but it was still better than the rock-hard sofa in the corner of the room.

his phone buzzed on his chest. another text from jimin. this one though had a picture attached.

jimin:

look at this catch i reeled in tn 🔥

jungkook opened the image. it was a selfie of jimin with a woman at a bar. she was pretty, with short dark hair and a bright smile. but why did she look... so familiar. oh, right. he squinted at the screen.

he typed back casually with one thumb.

jungkook:

yeah natty

hooked up w her in august ig. she gives good head

he hit sent.

jimin’s reply came in a furious rapid-fire stream just like he’d expected.

jimin:

bro.. RU FCKING W ME NOW

how TF are u inside every chick’s pants before ME

I THOUGHT I FINALLY FOUND ONE U HAVEN’T FUCKED

this is bullshit

jungkook scoffed at the screen. yeah, he remembered her more now. natty. she had a nice body with a good pair of tits, that was actually the first thing he’d noticed. she’d started coming to his gym regularly, always finding a reason to be near him, asking for “help” with her form. it didn’t take long. he remembered her on her knees for him, his cock stuffed in her mouth, in his gym’s bathroom one night after closing. they went back to his place after that and fucked. she was so eager, made a lot of noise. she tried to make it a regular thing after that, texting him, showing up to the gym with her hair done and a sport bra too small for her. but he’d lost interest, and he wasn’t surprised she’d moved on to his best friend instead.

he typed out another reply to jimin.

jungkook:

nah u can hv ur way w her tn, she mad good in bed

other than that no, lwk think she got to u js to get to me

been begging for my cock for a while

he sent the message and dropped his phone on his chest, staring at the ceiling. he turned on his side, cursing at how cramped the bed felt.

he missed the city. it felt like ages since he’d last been to a club, felt the bass in his bones. strangely he didn’t miss the random hookups as much as he thought he would. the idea of getting his dick wet in some stranger woman felt... hollow now. he knew why. it was because of you. these strange feelings for you, they’d just gotten bigger and bigger since he’d stepped foot here. he couldn’t see himself going back to his old life filled with meaningless fucks, after the holidays. the thought of it felt wrong. fuck. he’d never ever felt anything this real, this stubborn before. he knew, with a certainty that scared him to death, that he couldn’t just let you go.

ever since he’d blurred it out that he liked you. he’d been trying to prove he meant it, because you clearly didn’t believe him. fuck, he told you constantly. he hung around you more often now. but you only seemed to pull away more. that was new, too. because he’d never, ever, had a woman dismiss him when he showed interest. but then, he’d never shown this kind of interest before. it was always just sexual attraction.

don’t get him wrong, he was, in fact, sexually attracted to you, too. even though you were nothing like the women he usually hooked up with. they wore tight clothes, showed a lot of skin, which was okay too. but you just, didn’t. he’d barely seen past your knees. and yet, you were the one he’d woken up from a wet dream about, embarrassingly hard, with a sticky patch in his boxers. you were the one he’d jerked off to in the middle of the night before taking a cold shower at 3 in the morning.

so yeah, he wasn’t backing down. not until you trusted that his feelings were real. and he wanted you. for himself. fuck, just thinking about you now was getting him worked up. what the hell was wrong with him? no woman had ever had this effect on him. you were just, too pretty. too sweet. too damn innocent for this fucked up world. sometimes he’d get those dark, possessive thoughts about ruining that innocence in his damn wrecked ways. but then a stronger, more suprising feeling would wash over him. no. he wanted to protect you, to keep you safe, to have you all for himself. only his.

holy fuck. what was he even thinking? you made him crazy. you made him loose his shit without even being in the same room.

he punched his pillow and tried to force himself to sleep. if he kept thinking about you, he’d get hate again, and he’d be up for another hour taking care of it. his mom needed him up early to help set up the big christmas tree in the village square.

it took a long time, but he finally drifted into a fitful sleep, his last conscious thoughts were filled with the memory of your smile, the soft sound of your voice, and that adorable, stubborn pout you always got when he teased you. fuck, you drove him absolutely fucking nuts.

. . .

you were sitting on the soft carpet in mandy’s room, your back against the edge of her bed. the air inside was warm and smelled like vanilla candles and wool. few other girls from the village were here as well since it was the day before christmas eve, and you were all gathered for your yearly tradition. everyone would work on little projects like knitting, sewing, making jewelry.

you were carefully stitching tiny, iridescent pearls onto the hem of nancy’s new dress. mandy sat cross-legged beside you, trying out the friendship bracelets she’d made for everyone, holding one up to the light to check the colors.

jessica, perched on the vanity stool, was in the middle of her ranting. “...and then roberto actually asked me out at the festival. and he leaned in and pecked me on the lips, without even asking! can you believe it?” she shook her head, tying a red ribbon around a half-finished cardigan.

cynthia, lounging in the plush armchair and examining her manicure, let out a bored snort. “that’s it? a peck? please. guys at the clubs in the city do way more than that without a second thought.”

jessica wrinkled her nose. “yeah, well, his breath smelled like the fish stall. i almost threw up.”

sophia, who was pinning silver pendants onto a velvet dress, grimaced. “eww, no!”

“exactly!” jessica said, waving a ribbon for emphasis. “i told him straight up ‘no.’ besides, cassandra told me he never washes his hands after using the bathroom. like, ever. can you imagine?”

mandy, looping a bracelet around her wrist, scoffed. “and she dated him for two whole months. i could never.”

you listened quietly, focusing on placing another pearl perfectly in the center of the floral design. you’d always thought roberto was a nice guy. you’d seen him with jayden a few times, and he was always polite. he’d also been so gentle and attentive with cassandra when they were together. maybe he had some bad habits, but what mattered most was that he had a good heart. he could just learn to be cleaner, right?

sophia’s attention shifted from her dress to you. “hey, i heard jayden asked you out. you know, right before you got lost in the storm– sorry about that, by the way.” she gave you a sympathetic wince, gesturing vaguely toward your ankle.

cynthia let out another short, mocking laugh.

you blinked, confused at what she just said. a date? jayden hadn’t asked you on a date. “oh, no. he just asked if i wanted to hang out. to catch up, you know? it’s been a while since we grabbed a snack together. it was just a friendly thing.” you giggled softly, the idea of it being romantic feeling silly.

jessica rolled her eyes. “girl, it’s obvious to a blind person that jayden is totally into you. unless you’re just that oblivious.”

cynthia smirked, not looking up from her nails. “she is.”

mandy immediately bristled. she shot a glare at jessica and cynthia. “well, she’s a pretty girl. half the guys in this village probably adore her. it’s hard to keep track, don’t you think?” her tone was defensive, protective.

nancy, who was having her hair braided by layla, suddenly bounced in her seat, making layla yelp as she tugged on a strand. “ooh! speaking of guys! i saw how jungkook carried you through the storm!” nancy clutched her hands to her chest dramatically. “it was like something from a movie!”

layla, carefully resuming her braiding, nodded enthusiastically. “he looked... so charming, like a total hero. i almost forgot you were hurt– sorry! i’m so glad you’re all okay now!”

the mention of jungkook’s name sent an immediate, unwelcome flush of heat up your neck. oh god, no. it was so embarrassing that everyone had seen him carry you like that, it must have looked so silly. you looked down at the dress in your lap, embarrassed all over again.

cynthia’s voice cut through the romantic image. “it was so unnecessary. you could have walked just fine. you made him carry you for no reason.”

sophia nodded in agreement, though she looked a bit apologetic. “yeah, maybe a tiny bit over the top? you kind of overreacted, it was just a little twist. you really worried your mom, you know?”

you wanted to correct them so badly. you hadn’t asked him to! you actually told him to put me down multiple times but he just wouldn’t listen! and you did feel so awful for worrying your mother and the others that much. the guilt twisted in your stomach.

mandy wasn’t having it. her voice was sharp. “she was not overreacting, she clearly couldn’t put weight on it. jungkook did the right thing. and mrs. anastasia said she shouldn’t walk on it, remember? to keep it from getting worse.” she gave you a supportive smile.

nancy sighed dreamily, ignoring the tension. “he’s just so nice to help you like that. you two must be really close, right? you’re so lucky.” she had literal hearts in her eyes.

you blushed, opening your mouth to deny it, but jessica spoke first. “jungkook’s like that with everyone,” she said, a hint of pride in her voice. “at the festival, he came over and helped me with the lights without me even asking. he just took the strand right out of my hands and got the job done for me.”

sophia jumped in. “yeah it’s true! i was right there!”

cynthia smoothed her skirt, a smug smirk on her face. “he probably just saw you struggling.” she paused, letting the words hang. “you know, he actually came up to me and asked me to be his partner for the snowshoe race.” it was a blatant lie, she had been the one to approach him, but no one else knew that.

layla gasped, accidentally tugging on nancy’s braid again. “ow!”

“sorry! but oh my god!” layla squealed, forgetting the hair. “i saw you two win! you looked amazing together! he is totally into you. you’d be such a hot couple!”

cynthia’s smirk widened, and her eyes flicked over to you, watching for your reaction.

something inside your chest squeezed, tight and painful. a bitter taste rose in the back of your throat. so he was the one who asked her? of course he did. the image of them together; cynthia, beautiful, confident, city-savvy, wrapped in jungkook’s arms after winning the race, clicked into place in your mind. layla was right. they would look so good together. they matched so well after all, they made total sense in a way you and jungkook never could. she understood his world. the thought made your eyes sting.

but… he told you he liked you. a tiny, desperate voice reminded you. but you’d already decided that was just another one of his tricks, right? so why did it hurt so much to hear about cynthia? you should be happy for her if she liked him and he liked her back as well. but you couldn’t be. you just felt a hollow, aching sadness.

cynthia wasn’t done. she picked up her phone, scrolling with a casual air. “yeah, we’ve been texting too. he followed me on instagram. liked my last selfie, too.” she showed the screen briefly, where a heart from jungkook’s account was clearly visible under a glamorous photo of her.

the other girls erupted in more squeals and giggles, crowding around to see.

you looked down at the half-pearled dress in your lap, the colors blurring. you focused on threading your needle with a shaky hand, trying to shove the confusing, hurtful feelings down, down, down where they couldn’t show on your face. you tried to make your smile match the cheerful mood in the room. it felt like the hardest thing you’d ever done.

eventually, the conversation drifted to other topics as the night wore on, filled with more laughter and chatter.

but you were quieter than usual. your responses were slower, your smiles didn’t quite reach your eyes, and you found yourself staring at the same half-attached pearl for minutes at a time, your thoughts a thousand miles away, or more accurately, stuck on a certain leather jacket and a smirk that now felt like it was meant for someone else.

mandy noticed your strange behavior right away. she watched you from the corner of her eye, saw the distant look on your face, the way your shoulders had slumped just a little. she didn’t say anything in front of the others, but she made a mental note to corner you about it later, when it was just the two of you. something was definitely up with you, and she was going to get to the bottom of it.

. . .

later that night, the other girls, yawning and clutching their pillows, shuffled off to mandy’s guest room. it was more spacious, and since they planned to wake up early in the morning to finish their projects, it was easier to just spend the night.

you were now alone with mandy in her bedroom. you were pulling back the covers on her queen sized bed, the same bed you’d shared during countless sleepovers since you were teenagers.

mandy stood at her dresser, brushing out her hair.  “so,” she said without turning around, her voice cutting through the comfortable silence. “are you going to tell me now?”

you looked over at her, confused. you finished fluffing a pillow. “tell you what?”

she finished with her hair, pulling it over one shoulder as she turned to face you. she raised a knowing eyebrow. “what’s been bugging you all night. don’t even try to deny it.”

you frowned slightly. “nothing’s bugging me.”

“you’re a terrible liar, and i’ve known you since we were in pigtails. something’s up, so spill. what’s up?” she came and sat on the edge of the bed, facing you, her expression serious but kind.

mandy could always read you like an open book. she knew your tells; the way you’d bite your lip when nervous, the slight dip in your smile when you were faking it, she just noticed it all. you nibbled on your lower lip nervously. “it’s… it’s nothing. really. it’s just silly.”

“bullshit,” mandy said, but there was no anger in it, just firm concern. she scooted closer. “if it’s bothering you, it’s not silly to me. so tell me. did someone do something? say anything bad to you?”

you quickly shook your head. “no, no, nothing like that.” you knew you couldn’t keep anything from her, not when she was looking at you like this. you took a deep, shaky breath, looking down at your hands. “it’s… about jungkook.”

mandy’s expression shifted. “of course it is,” she sighed, though there was no real surprise in her voice. “what did he do now?” she looked ready to march out and find him, which made you a little bit anxious.

“no, he didn’t– it’s not like that,” you stammered, feeling your cheeks grow warm. this was the first time you were saying it out loud. “after… after the storm incident, when we were alone… he… he told me he liked me.” you confessed, the words feeling strange and heavy in the air. your cheeks burned even more with the admission.

mandy’s eyes went wide. “what?” then a slow, huge grin spread across her face. “oh my god– i told you! i told you he was into you!” she grabbed your shoulders, giving you a little shake.

you pouted, the familiar doubt creeping back in. “but i think he was probably just joking…”

“did he say he was joking?” mandy asked, her gaze sharp.

you shook your head, hesitating. “no… he actually told me he wasn’t joking when i said that. he’s said it a few times since... but... i just know he can’t be serious. because of what… what cynthia said earlier.” the words tumbled out, laced with a pain you couldn’t hide.

mandy’s face softened. she let go of your shoulders. “you can’t possibly listen to a word cynthia says. if jungkook had told her he wanted her, she’d be shouting it from the rooftops and bragging to everyone. has she done that?”

you shook your head slightly.

“exactly. jungkook told you and he acts totally different around you anyway, you’ve seen it. he teases you, but it’s… different. he doesn’t look at cynthia, or anyone else, the way he looks at you.”

“but he still asked her to be his partner,” you said quietly, the memory stinging. “and he liked her post. and they text.” you hated how you sounded; petty, insecure, nothing like your usual self. mandy noticed the change too, and a soft, knowing smile touched her lips. you were jealous, she thought.

“well, i checked his instagram,” mandy said gently. “he likes a lot of girls’ posts. i think it’s just a mindless habit for him, like scrolling. it probably means nothing– and honestly? i have a feeling cynthia was lying about him asking her. he looked like he’d rather be anywhere else during that whole race.”

you frowned, genuinely puzzled. “why would she lie?”

mandy mentally face-palmed at your naivete but just shook her head. “it doesn’t matter why. what really matters is you.” she leaned closer, her voice dropping. “so. do you like him?”

the question hit you like a bucket of cold water. your breath caught and you blinked at her, your mind going totally blank. do you like him? the question echoed in the sudden silence of your mind. “i… i don’t know,” you whispered, but the fact that you didn’t immediately deny it made your heart hammer against your ribs. why didn’t you just say no?

mandy gave you a look that said she saw right through you. you stared back, and something inside you seemed to crack open. do you like jungkook? did you really like him? the possibility, once unthinkable, now felt terrifyingly real. but... how? when?

mandy patted the space beside her and slid under the covers. “come on. get in.” you snuggled in next to her, pouting. “you need to figure out if you like him or not,” she said, her voice a matter of fact. “because if you don't, then none of this should bother you. who he likes, what he does with cynthia... it shouldn’t matter to you. right?”

you pouted, pulling the blanket up to your chin. “but he said he liked me…” you mumbled, the confession feeling both precious and painful.

“and what did you say back?” mandy asked.

“i… i told him he was lying.”

mandy turned on her side to face you, a slow grin spreading across her face. “so you never actually told him if you liked him back or not. right?” you shook your head. “okay. so the whole mess is on both of you. him for being a flirty idiot with no boundaries, and you, for not even admitting your own feelings to yourself, while getting jealous over him.”

jealous? the word echoed in your head. that’s what this squeezing, aching, bitter feeling was? you’d never felt anything like it before. and the fact that it was over jungkook made everything more confusing. but as mandy laid it out so simply, the fog in your mind began to clear little by little. the pain when cynthia talked about him, the ache at the thought of them together, the way your heart raced when he got near you… it all pointed to one overwhelming, undeniable truth.

it was as if mandy could see the realization dawning in your eyes. she smiled softly. “you like him.”

you looked up at her, your face flushed with heat and confusion, and after a long moment, you gave a tiny, hesitant nod.

mandy let out a quiet squeal and pulled you into a tight hug. “you finally admitted it!”

you whined into her shoulder. “but– but mandy i don’t know what to do!”

she pulled back, holding you at arm’s length, her expression turning practical. “okay. first, you need to talk to him. tell him how you feel. or at least figure out what you want to say before that.” seeing your panic, she squeezed your hands. “but for right now, you need to stop thinking and go to sleep. your poor brain is probably fried. everything will look clearer in the morning, okay? just relax.”

you nodded, feeling a strange mix of terror and relief. but as you lay in the dark, your mind wouldn’t stop racing. the thought was so strange, so unexpected, you like jeon jungkook. it should have felt wrong, given your history. but somehow, in the quiet truth of the night, it also felt... right. you couldn’t believe it, but you also couldn’t deny it anymore. the boy you’d spent more than a decade thinking you despised had somehow, quietly and stubbornly, carved out a place in your heart. and that was enough to make you want to scream at your pillow.

. . .

mandy steadied the ladder as you reached up to place a silver star on the highest branch you could manage. “careful there! don’t fall, clumsy,” she said, her voice fond.

you giggled, securing the star. “i’m fine! stop worrying, you sound like my mom.”

it was christmas eve, and the whole village was pitching in, their faces lit with smiles. you’d already exchanged a dozen small gifts; a jar of honey from mr. henderson, a knitted scarf from mrs. ahn, a pretty notebook from little kiki. you’d given out your own little packages of homemade cookies and hand-painted cards. the whole spirit of giving made your heart feel full.

right now, you were helping decorate the massive tree in the center of the square, working alongside mandy, layla, and a few others. your heart felt… lighter, somehow, after admitting your feelings to mandy last night. but it also made you feel more vulnerable, more exposed. you couldn’t quite believe it yourself, that you liked someone. and that someone being jungkook. the thought was both thrilling and terrifying.

speaking of him, you’d seen him around all day, though your paths hadn’t crossed at all. he seemed busy, the go-to guy for any heavy lifting or tasks that require strength. part of you (a part you tried so hard to ignore) had missed his annoying presence, the way he’d usually find you to poke and tease.

right now, he was across the square, being useful. you watched as he easily lifted a giant, heavily decorated wreath for old mrs. lee, who affectionately patted his bicep in thanks. he gave a short, silent nod to nancy as she handed him a tangled string of lights to fix. he was surrounded, as usual, by a small circle of women needing help. he didn’t seem to mind, he just did the task and moved on.

then you saw cynthia approach him. she looked so stunning, as always, in a chic caramel coat. she said something to him, smiling brightly, and placed a hand on his forearm, in a familiar, possessive gesture. jungkook didn’t pull away, he didn’t stiffen or step back. he just listened, gave a low grunt in response, and turned to untangle the lights. but he didn’t shake off her hand.

the sight alone was like a cold splash of water. it dragged back cynthia’s boasts from last night right to the front of your mind. the tiny, fragile hope you’d let yourself feel, that maybe, just maybe, his words were real, began to shrivel. he looked so comfortable with her, so indifferent to her touch. if he really liked you, wouldn’t he… wouldn’t he not be so casual with other women? his words to you must have just been part of his act, his flirty game he played with everyone. the doubt came crashing back, a heavy, sick feeling in your stomach.

you shook your head slightly, forcing the thoughts away. you wouldn’t let mandy see you upset. today was a happy day, so you plastered a bright smile on your face.

“this one next?” mandy asked, handing you a glittering red bauble.

“yes! perfect for right here,” you said, your voice a little too cheerful as you hooked it onto a branch.

meanwhile, jungkook was across the square, hefting a stack of firewood with roberto for mrs. ahn’s fireplace.

“bro, you are seriously stacked,” roberto said, huffing under his own load. “no wonder all the girls in the village are down bad for you, damn.”

jungkook just shrugged, adjusting his grip. “i own a gym. i work out.” his tone was casual, but his mind was elsewhere. it was on the fact that all the strength in the world didn’t seem to matter, because the one girl he actually wanted didn’t believe a word he said. you think that he’s full of shit, instead.

they deposited the wood by mrs. ahn’s door with a final grunt. the old woman beamed, pressing small, wrapped candies into their hands. “for my strong boys! thank you!”

“thank you, mrs. ahn!” roberto said, beaming.

jungkook gave a short nod and shoved the candy into his jacket pocket.

as they walked away, roberto nudged him. “man, i got totally shot down asking jessica out. her loss, right?” he laughed, not seeming too bothered by the rejection. “might try for cynthia next, but she’s way out of my league. she’s probably pinning on you anyway, right?” he said, the question careless and casual.

jungkook was seriously considering shoving roberto’s face into the nearest snowbank just to shut him up. but the last part snagged his attention. cynthia. yeah, that woman had been glued to his ass side since he got back. he knew exactly what she wanted, he could smell the intention a mile off. ever since she’d asked for his instagram she hadn’t stopped texting, sending pictures that were supposedly innocent but had a clear, suggestive undertone. he didn’t care though. he let her do what she wanted because his attention, his focus, his whole damn heart was, stupidly, completely set on you.

he shot roberto a sidelong glance. “not interested, she’s all yours if you want her.”

roberto laughed again, clapping him on the back. “you’re a real bro’s bro, man. come on, the guys are grabbing a beer.”

against his better judgment, jungkook let himself be steered toward a cluster of men near the pub. the moment he saw jayden among them, his mood soured instantly. he hadn’t forgotten what that piece of shit had said about you. his hands curled into fists at his sides, the instinct to swing almost overwhelming. but he forced his fingers to relax.

the guys greeted him, shoving a cold beer into his hand.

“heard you struck out with jessica.” sebastian said with a grin, elbowing roberto.

roberto groaned, running a hand over his face. “man, don’t remind me. i thought for sure after the festival… but nah. said my breath smelled like fish.”

the guys snorted. “what were you eating, dude?” aden laughed.

“i don’t even know! probably those sardine sandwiches my mom makes.” roberto took a swig of his beer, then leaned in, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial but still-too-loud whisper. “but hey, you win some, you lose some. i, uh… i might’ve accidentally won one last night i wasn’t supposed to.”

jungkook, who had been silently nursing his beer and staring at the condensation on the glass, barely listening, glanced up.

jayden’s eyes widened. “whoa, whoa. spill.”

roberto looked around, then mumbled, “marco’s sister. she was, uh, visiting for the pre-festival stuff.”

“bro,” khalid said, leaning forward. “you fucked marco’s sister? are you trying to die? i’m serious.”

“i was drunk!” roberto hissed, defending himself. “it was dark! i didn’t know it was her until, like, after!”

sebastian shook his head, a mix of disbelief and amusement on his face. “damn, man. your ass is grass if he finds out. she better not get pregnant.”

roberto puffed out his chest, a flash of drunken bravado. “nah, nah. i might’ve been three sheets to the wind, but my pull-out game? never fails me bro. that shit is, like, muscle memory.”

jayden choked on his beer, laughing. “muscle memory? dude, that’s not a skill you wanna brag about.”

“hey, it’s kept me out of trouble so far!” roberto insisted, though he looked a little pale at the thought of marco. he quickly changed the subject, his eyes landing on jungkook, who had gone back to looking bored. “anyway, that’s my drama. what about you, jeon? you must be cleaning up. all these village girls looking at you like you’re a free steak.”

jungkook didn’t even look at him. he took a slow drink. “not interested.”

“not interested?” aden echoed. “come on, man. cynthia is basically throwing herself at you. i saw her glued to your side earlier. she’s fine as hell. you telling me you’re not even a little tempted?”

jungkook finally lifted his gaze. it was flat, devoid of the crude humor the others were trading in. “i said i’m not interested.” his voice held a finality that quieted the table for a beat.

sebastian recovered first, trying to lighten the mood. “he’s got a point. maybe he’s got a girl back in the city. a different one every night, right, jungkook?”

jungkook just shrugged, he didn’t confirm nor did he deny. his mind was elsewhere now as his eyes found you across the square, by the big tree. you were laughing, trying to adjust a sprig of mistletoe while mandy playfully tried to tickle you. you were wearing a soft-looking beige dress, your hair half-up, half-down, catching the light. you looked so beautiful it made his chest ache. fuck. how he wanted to walk over there, wrap his arms around you, and just bury his face in your hair.

then a voice cut through his thoughts, sharp and clear.

“...so you’re really gonna ask her tonight?” one of the guys was saying to jayden.

jungkook’s attention snapped back to them.

jayden nodded, a smug little smile on his face. “yeah, i am. hoping she’ll say yes.”

a couple of the guys chuckled and nudged him. “she’ll definitely say yes, man. didn’t she already agree to go out with you before? after the festival?”

jayden’s smirk widened. “something like that.”

the group murmured their approval, raising their beers in a half-hearted toast.

jungkook’s blood ran cold, then hot. this fucker was going to ask you out. and from the sound of it, he thought he had a chance with you. a red haze took over jungkook’s vision. there was no way. absolutely no fucking way he was going to let that happen. he took a long, slow drink of his beer, his eyes never leaving jayden, a picture already forming in his mind, that involved his fists and jayden’s face if he ever thought to get one step closer to you.

. . .

your mother gently fixed the silver butterfly pendant she’d made into your hair. “there,” she murmured, her voice full of quiet pride. “my beautiful girl.” she kissed the top of your head, and you leaned into the touch, wrapping your arms around her in a tight hug.

“i love it, mama, thank you!” you whispered, your heart swelling with love. she was your whole world. growing up without a father had meant she’d been everything, both mother and father, your rock, your confidante. her strength and kindness were the foundations of your life, and in moments like this, you felt that bond so deeply it almost ached.

after she went to help the other women with the final food preparations, you stood alone for a moment, watching the children shrieking with laughter as they chased each other through the fresh snow. your eyes, almost against your will, began to scan the busy square. you searched for a familiar leather jacket, a certain set of broad shoulders, but you couldn’t spot jungkook anywhere. a faint, silly disappointment settled in your chest.

suddenly, a gentle poke in your side made you jump.

you turned to see jayden smiling down at you, a soft laugh escaping him. “did i scare you?”

you let out a breathy laugh of your own, placing a hand over your heart. “you startled me a little!”

“sorry,” he said, though he didn’t look too sorry. he was always so calm. “i was just finishing setting up the children’s gift booth over there and saw you standing here. thought you might like to help me put the last of the toys out? could use an expert opinion on what the little ones will like most.”

you knew you were feeling dejected, confused, and a little lonely. so helping with something for the children sounded like the perfect, pure distraction. “of course,” you said, giving him a genuine, if small, smile. “i’d love to help.”

as you walked with him to the booth, you couldn’t help but notice how different he was from jungkook. jayden was kind man, his attention was always so focused and sincere. he asked about your ankle, about your mom, about the school. he didn’t play confusing, hot-and-cold games. he was straightforward, and his smile always easy. and yet, even as you appreciated his gentle company, a traitorous part of your mind kept slipping away, wondering where he was, what he was doing. you mentally scolded yourself. it was so rude to be thinking of someone else while you were with jayden, who was being nothing but nice to you.

you were arranging stuffed animals on a table when your gaze drifted past jayden’s shoulder, and you froze.

there was jungkook. he was wearing a scarf. a thick, grey, hand-knitted scarf. your scarf. you’d made it last week and gave it to mrs. jeon this morning as an early christmas gift. and now it was wrapped around his neck, tucked into his leather jacket.

jayden, noticing your distracted stare and your suddenly flushed cheeks, completely misinterpreted. he thought his presence was making you shy, flustered in a good way. a confident smirk touched his lips.

he stepped a little closer, blocking your view of jungkook, and gently took your attention back. “you know,” he began, his voice smooth and careful, “i’ve really enjoyed spending more time with you lately. you’re… unlike anyone else here.” he paused, his eyes sincere. “i’ve actually had feelings for you for a while now, and i was wondering… if you’d consider giving me a real chance. let me take you out properly, not just as friends.”

you were completely flustered, because his confession was so sincere, so gentle. it was touching. aside from jungkook’s frustrating, teasing declarations, jayden was the first man in the village to ever ask you out so directly. a part of you was deeply moved by his honesty. but another, larger part just felt… sad. you liked jayden. he was a good man, polite, stable, charming. any girl would be so lucky to have him. but you liked him the same way you liked a friend, a brother, with platonic affection and respect. it was totally different than the dizzying, all-consuming storm that thinking of jungkook brought.

you opened your mouth, ready to gently let him down, to thank him and explain you valued his friendship too much. you wanted to be kind, to be the good person you always tried to be. “jayden, that’s so sweet, i–”

your words died in your throat, as your eyes flickered over his shoulder again.

jungkook was still there, but so was cynthia. she was standing so close to him, her body angled into his space. from your distance, your angle, it looked unmistakable. her face was tilted up, her hand was on his cheek, and it looked for all the world like she was kissing him. jungkook’s back was to you, his posture rigid, but you didn’t see him pushing her away. in fact, his head was bent, leaning down toward her.

your world tilted violently, as the air left your lungs in a silent gasp. the last fragile thread of hope you’d been clinging to, the hope that maybe, just maybe, he meant what he said, shattered into a million icy pieces in your chest. the pain that you felt was instant and breathtaking.

you snapped your gaze back to jayden, your vision blurring with unshed tears. you were seconds away from breaking down right there in the snow. in your hurt, in your raw, overwhelming need to escape the agony of what you just seen, you did something completely unlike yourself.

you gave jayden a wobbly, watery smile, your voice trembling. “okay,” you whispered, the word feeling foreign on your tongue. “let’s… let’s try.”

it had nothing to do with wanting jayden. it was the most selfish, unlike-you thing you’d ever done. it was about running as fast as you could from the soul-crushing pain of the heartbreak jungkook had just delivered. and even as you said it, the image of him and cynthia, kissing, burned behind your eyelids, a wound you knew wouldn’t heal anytime soon.

. . .

as the night deepened, the village square turned into one a single, vibrant living room. no one celebrated alone here. it was a tradition, one big family under the starry winter sky. the air was filled with joyful noise; live folk music from a few men with guitars and a fiddle, the constant hum of happy chatter, bursts of laughter, and the rustle of gift exchanges.

you’d been sticking close to jayden ever since your conversation. after you’d accepted his offer, he’d pulled you into a hug that felt too tight, too long. now, his hand seemed permanently fixed to the small of your back, a possessive weight that felt foreign and uncomfortable to you. when you caught mandy’s eye across the crowd, she was staring at jayden’s hand with a deep, questioning frown. you looked away quickly, a knot of anxiety tightening in your stomach.

meanwhile, jungkook had been trying to ditch cynthia for the last hour. she’d been glued to his ass ever since he’d left the pub, finding new reasons to be near him.

“jungkook, your scarf is crooked,” she’d say, reaching to “fix” it, her fingers lingering on the scarf– your scarf.

“it’s fine,” he’d grunt, stepping back.

“you should come by my place later. i have this amazing spiced wine,” she’d suggest, her voice a purr.

“nah, busy.”

he’d finally managed to lose her by ducking somewhere quiet to take a call from jimin about a gym equipment delivery. he was leaning against the cold brick wall, the phone to his ear, when she found him again. the call ended, and he shoved his phone back in his pocket with a sigh.

“there you are,” cynthia said, appearing in front of him like a ghost. she stepped closer to him. “hiding from me?”

“i’m not hiding. i’m busy,” jungkook said, his voice flat. he tried to move past her, but she shifted, blocking his way.

“you’re always ‘busy’. what’s so important it can’t wait for christmas eve?” she pouted, but her eyes were menacing. she reached up, her hand aiming for his face. “you have a little snow…”

he caught her wrist before her fingers could touch his cheek, his grip firm but not rough. “don’t.”

“don’t what?” she challenged, leaning closer. “i’m just being friendly. you seemed to like it well enough earlier.”

“i didn’t,” he stated, releasing her arm. “i don’t. just back off, cynthia. i’m not interested.”

“not interested?” she laughed, but it was a sharp, brittle sound. “come on. i see the way you look at me. we’re the same, kook. we don’t belong in this boring little village. we understand the real world.” she moved in again, this time more boldly, her body pressing against his, her face tilting up. “stop playing hard to get.”

before he could shove her away properly, her hands came up, one gripping the lapel of his jacket, the other grabbing the side of his face, trying to pull him down to her level. she was strong, and for a split second, her mouth was dangerously close to his.

that was all it took.

he jerked his head back, his hands coming up to firmly grasp her shoulders, pushing her back with enough force to make her stumble. “i said back the fuck off,” he growled, his voice low and deadly serious. all traces of his usual bored indifference were gone, replaced by cold, clear anger. “i am not playing, i am not interested. get this shit through your head. do not touch me again.”

she stared at him, her perfect composure cracking, revealing shock and furious embarrassment. “i– you’re an asshole,” she spat.

“finally, something we agree on,” he shot back, turning his back on her and striding out without a second glance.

he’d come looking for you after that, his nerves frayed, needing the calm he only seemed to find around you. but the one time he’d managed to get close, you’d flinched away from him like he was a stranger, avoiding his eyes entirely. that silent rejection had cut deeper than anything else, sparking a frustrated anger within him.

now, that anger was at a rolling boil as he watched you with jayden. he saw the other man’s hand on your back like he owned you. who the hell does he think he is? the thought was red-hot in his mind. and why the fuck are you letting him? the sight made his blood run hot.

people were dancing, singing along badly to the music, clinking glasses. jayden had been drinking steadily, and the alcohol was making him bolder. you felt his hold around your waist tighten, pulling you closer against his side. you shifted, trying to create a little space.

“jayden, you’re… you’re holding me a little tight,” you whispered, gently squeezing his forearm.

he just grinned down at you, his breath warm and heavy with the smell of beer. “did i tell you how gorgeous you look tonight?” he slurred, leaning in closer.

you leaned back, your discomfort growing. “please, you’re making me uncomfortable,” you said softly, trying to be polite, to not make a scene.

he didn’t seem to hear. his hand slid lower, dangerously close to the curve of your backside. you stiffened, your heart pounding against your ribs in sudden fear. this wasn’t the gentle jayden you knew. he dipped his head, his lips brushing your earlobe. “i’ve always wanted you,” he whispered, the words thick and sloppy.

you scrunched your face, putting your hands on his chest to push him away. “jayden, stop–”

suddenly, the heavy weight of him vanished. you stumbled forward a step as jayden was yanked backwards with so much force he almost lost his footing.

you looked up. jungkook stood there, chest heaving, his eyes pure fury fixed on jayden. “take your hands off her,” he growled, his voice a low threat that cut through the music.

jayden, swaying slightly, wiped his mouth and smirked, the alcohol making him stupidly brave. “she’s with me, jeon. back off.”

jungkook took a step forward, closing the distance. “you put your filthy hands on her like that again, and i’ll break every fucking one of them.”

jayden laughed, a mocking, drunken sound. he staggered closer, getting right in jungkook’s face, though he had to look slightly up to do it. “what’s the matter?” he hissed, his voice dripping with provocation. “jealous? i finally get to fuck her, and you can’t?”

that was it. the last thread of jungkook’s control snapped.

his fist connected with jayden’s jaw with a sickening crack. it was one punch, but it carried all of jungkook’s pent-up frustration, his fear for you, his possessiveness, and his own wounded heart. jayden’s head snapped to the side, and he crumpled like a sack of stones, landing hard in the snow with a heavy thud, groaning.

a collective gasp rippled through the crowd. the music faltered, as people stopped dancing and turned to stare.

you clapped your hands over your mouth, a horrified squeak escaping you.

but jungkook didn’t even glance at jayden writhing in the snow. he turned his furious, pained gaze directly on you. in two strides, he was before you. he reached out, his fingers closing around your wrist. his grip was firm, but it wasn’t rough. and without a word, ignoring the rising shouts of “hey!” and “what happened?”, he started pulling you, stumbling, away from the stunned crowd.

you stumbled through the snow, trying to yank your arm free, your boots slipping on the ice. your chest felt so tight. his breathing was loud and uneven, like he was running on nothing but pure anger.

when he finally stopped and spun around to face you, his voice exploded in the quiet alley. “what the fuck was that? you and him– are you serious right now?”

you shook your head, tears already streaming down your cold cheeks, overwhelmed. “jungkook, stop, you’re hurting me– why are you doing this?”

“after everything i told you?” he cut in immediately, his words sharp. “i told you to stay away from that fucker. i told you he was no good! and you still stood there with him like i didn’t say shit?”

you choked out a sob. “you don’t get to say that! you don’t get to control who i talk to! you took it too far jungkook, you punched him– why would you do that?”

he laughed, a harsh, ugly sound, and stepped closer, crowding your space. “why do you think? because i told you i like you, and you still didn’t trust me. and yet you trusted him– some fucker who had his hands all over you.”

that’s when you lost it completely. because, why was he acting all protective over you, like he really liked you when not even too long ago he was kissing an other girl? what jayden did was not something to casually shake off but currently, your mind was too fogged to think properly. your voice broke as you yelled, “because at least he’s honest! he doesn’t mess with my head! he doesn’t say one thing and do another– he doesn’t tell me he likes me and then go kiss someone else like i don’t matter!” the words spilled out between sobs. “i saw you, jungkook! i saw you with cynthia today, so don’t look at me like that!”

he froze. the anger on his face flickered into confusion. “what? what are you talking about?”

but you were spiraling, the hurt pouring out. “you keep pulling me in and then pushing me away! you make me feel stupid for believing you! stop doing that, just stop! if you want her, then be with her and leave me alone!”

something in his face cracked. he spoke over you, the words tumbling out fast, like he was afraid you’d stop listening. “she tried to kiss me, but i shoved her off and told her to get lost.” he stepped closer even though you were shaking. “i don’t even give a fuck about anyone else. i only ever notice someone when they’re near you.”

you shook your head, the tears coming harder. “you’re lying,” you sobbed, the words choked and wet. “you’re always lying to me. you say things and then you do the opposite, and i don’t know what to believe!”

“i’m not lying!” he fired back, his voice rising, not at you, but at the whole fucked situation. “what do you want from me, huh? what do i have to do?” his hands raked through his hair. “you want me to throw every other woman in this village into the damn lake? you want me to walk around with a sign that says i’m yours? tell me! because i’ll fucking do anything if it means you’ll believe me.”

the words hit you all at once, too fast, too heavy, and your brain couldn’t catch up. somewhere deep down, you knew he was being honest, that this was as close to begging as he got, but everything inside you was already overloaded. you knew you were being unfair. you knew you were lashing out. but knowing didn’t stop the tightness of your chest, the coldness of your hands, the overlapping thoughts. you didn’t even know what you wanted him to say anymore.

you wrapped your arms around yourself, feeling small and broken, “then– then why does it feel like you don’t care?” you said, sobbing, “i don’t know what i’m saying,” you added helplessly, almost to yourself. “i just– everything happened so fast, and i’m scared, i’m sorry if i–”

“don’t,” he cut in immediately. “don’t you fucking apologize.” his voice dropped, rough and raw. “i’m bad at this. i always say the wrong shit. i fuck up– but i swear to god– i’m not playing with you.” his voice dropped, admitting the ugly truth. “i punched him because he fucking touched you and i– i like you. i’ve always liked you. you’re the only person in this whole damn village that matters to me. but you–”

you stood there, crying silently while listening to him.

he shook his head, a frustrated, pained look crossing his face. “–you trust everyone. you’re nice to everyone. even the ones who talk shit about you. even the ones who would take advantage of you in a heartbeat. but you won’t ever trust me. and that… that fucks with my head more than anything.”

the silence that followed was thick and strange, broken only by the sound of your uneven breathing and the distant echo of music from the festival below. for the first time since he’d dragged you away, jungkook didn’t look angry. he looked... wrecked. his shoulders were still tense, his jaw tight, but his eyes softened when he finally noticed how badly you were shaking, your arms wrapped tight around yourself as if trying to hold everything together. the fight seemed to drain out of him all at once, too.

you sniffed, wiping your face with the back of your sleeve. “i... i believe you.”

he swore under his breath, a low, rough sound. he stepped closer instinctively, his big hands hovering in the air for a second, like he was afraid to touch you the wrong way, fuck, he wanted to hold you in his arms right now, so bad. but then, with a carefulness that felt foreign on him, he cupped your face. his thumbs brushed clumsily at your wet cheeks, smearing the tears.

“fuck,” he muttered, his forehead dropping against yours. his breath was warm and uneven against your skin. “i’m sorry. i didn’t mean to scare you. i shouldn’t have grabbed you like that.” his voice was still gruff, but there was something raw and vulnerable underneath it now. he never apologized for punching that piece of shit because if he had an other chance at doing it, he will do it again and again. “i can’t do this right, i don’t know how to behave when i’m angry. but i would never hurt you. never.”

you nodded shakily, as you were unconsciously leaning into his touch.

“don’t be scared,” he murmured, the words quiet. it sounded like he was telling it to himself, too.

the air between you shifted slightly. his gaze dropped to your lips, his own parting slightly. he started to lean down, his intent was clear, as his movements were slow, giving you every chance to pull away.

your mind went blissfully, terrifyingly blank. everything melted away under the warmth of his hands and the raw honesty in his eyes. he was going to kiss you, and your body wasn’t willing to pull away at all. your eyes fluttered shut.

but suddenly, something small and soft barreled between your legs, rubbing against your ankles.

you let out a short, sharp scream jumping fully into jungkook’s chest. he reacted instantly, his arms snapping around you, holding you tight against him as he scanned you, his body coiled protectively. “what? what is it?”

a familiar little bark answered him.

both of you looked down. rocky sat in the snow at your feet, his tail wagging furiously, tongue lolling out.

you stared at the dog.

jungkook stared at the dog.

then you looked at each other. the sheer absurdity of the moment hit you both at once. a choked laugh escaped you, followed by another, until you were both laughing. jungkook’s arms were still around you, but now his hold was looser, his laughter vibrating against your back where you were pressed against him.

jungkook let out a breath that sounded half like a laugh, half like a curse, eyes dropping to the dog before flicking back to you. “little one needs some more training. so he stops running away. and interrupting moments like these, yeah?” he was clearly teasing you, since rocky was your dog.

you giggled, still clinging to his jacket for a second longer before scooping down. “he wasn’t running away,” you pulled rocky into your arms, his cold nose nudging your chin. “he just got worried about me. didn’t you, my little boy?” you buried your face into his fur, fingers scratching behind his ears, your voice was soft and affectionate in a way that always did something awful to jungkook’s chest.

when you looked back up at him. the realization hit you all at once. you never told him you liked him back. your cheeks flushed hot. you never said it. you said that you believed him, yes, but you never said you liked him, never said anything at all, and wasn’t he literally about to kiss you? your stomach twisted. wait... did he already figure it out? did he see it when you closed your eyes?

before you could overthink yourself into passing out, you felt a finger tap your forehead. “you’re loud,” he said with a smirk. “i can hear you thinking from here.” you yelped softly, hugging rocky tighter as you turned your face away. “i– no– i was not,” you mumbled, heat flooding your cheeks. “we should probably go back now. everyone’s gonna start wondering where we went.”

jungkook gave you a look that said not a chance, before snorting. “nah,” he said, suddenly grabbing your wrist and tugging you the opposite way. “i’ve got a better idea.”

“wait, where are we going?” you asked, struggling a little to match his long strides while holding rocky. “people are gonna worry! and you still need to apologize to jayden!” you added, pouting despite yourself.

he stopped so suddenly you yelped, bumping into his back. he turned to face you, eyes sharp. “did he make you uncomfortable?” he asked, his voice low.

you hesitated, fingers tightening in rocky’s fur, then nodded slowly. “…yeah.”

you saw his jaw clench. “then i’m not apologizing,” he said flatly. “and if i ever see him again, i’ll do worse.” you gasped, immediately scolding him. “jungkook! no! that’s– violence isn’t the answer, okay? what he did was wrong but you can’t just–” you stopped when you noticed the corner of his mouth lifting. he was smirking at your little angry pout like it was his favorite thing in the world.

but then his expression shifted again, turning into something serious. “i’m not joking,” he said quietly. “anyone who thinks about touching you like that? i’ll break them. just so you know.” the raw sincerity in his voice made your blush deepen. it was terrifying and, somehow, made you feel incredibly safe.

he tugged at your wrist again, lighter this time. “now, come on. work those little legs.” he started walking.

you whined immediately. “you still didn’t tell me where we’re going!” your protest followed him all the way up the path, until the trees opened and the familiar cliff came into view.

the place where he’d first brought you on his bike. the village lights twinkled peacefully below, a world away from the chaos you’d just lived.

jungkook let go of your hand and stood beside you, looking out. “i’m still waiting, you know,” he said after a moment of quiet.

you turned to him, confused. “huh?”

he looked back at you, a small, nervous smirk on his face. it looked different from his usual confident ones. “you know. you still haven’t replied to my very pathetic confessions.”

oh.

oh no.

that was what you were scared of.

you thought that maybe he’d forget, or that your actions had been answer enough. you gulped, suddenly unable to meet his eyes, focusing intensely on rocky’s fur. your words tripped over themselves when you tried to speak. “i– i didn’t– i thought maybe you forgot and–”

jungkook laughed softly, the sound warm in the cold air. “how do you get any cuter when you’re nervous?” he reached out and put his hand on top of your head, ruffling your hair gently. it only made you shy away further, burying your face in rocky’s scruff.

shit, he thought. you were going to be the death of him, because how could anyone look at you; so soft, so flustered, so genuinely good, and not fall straight on their face for you? he’d give you the whole damn world if you just asked for it.

he cleared his throat. “you know what,” he said, pulling your attention back. his smirk faded into something more serious, more vulnerable. “i don’t think i like you.” he paused, letting the words hang. “i think… fuck, i think i’m in love with you.”

your heart stopped, then slammed against your ribs. he loved you. jungkook loved you. you just stared, frozen, until he laughed awkwardly and scratched his neck. “damn, little bear,” he said as shook his head. “am i that hard to love, huh?”

his joking tone broke the spell. you startled, shaking your head rapidly. “no! it’s not like that!” you took a deep, shaky breath, looking down at rocky, who was now dozing peacefully in your arms. you mumbled into his fur, the words so quiet they were almost lost to the wind. “i… i do like you.”

you were pretty sure you were about to faint.

jungkook’s eyes lit up. he leaned in closer, grinning. “hm? what was that?” he teased. “didn’t quite catch it.” he’d actually heard you perfectly. he was trying his absolute hardest to act cool, to not let his composure completely crumble right there in front of you. it wouldn’t look good for his tough-guy image. but internally, he felt like the happiest, luckiest bastard on the whole goddamn planet.

you huffed, flustered, but glowing. “you’re so annoying,” you muttered. his grin widened. yeah. he was doomed.

prev | next

[jeonqverse]

bad decisions ⟡ jeon jungkook !

summary. jeon jungkook is the university’s star, a baseball player—untouchable, adored, and infamous for leaving damage in his wake. and you’re just a student trying to survive lectures, deadlines, and the quiet loneliness of starting over. crossing paths with him was never part of the plan but college has a way of turning bad decisions into inevitable ones. and jungkook might be the worst you make.

pairing. baseball player!jungkook x fem!reader ﹒♡﹒ genre, au. angst, smut / college au ﹒♡﹒ 18+ mdni! ﹒♡﹒ a blurb series by yours truly, tomie ♡

© jeonqverse. all rights reserved. copying, modifying, translating is not allowed.

𝐟𝐢𝐜 𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐱:

➺ the one where he ruins your first day

➺ the one where he keeps looking at you

➺ the one with library tension

➺ the one where you watch him play

➺ the one after the party

➺ the one where he backs you into a corner

➺ the one where touch lingers

➺ the one that goes too far

➺ the one where jealousy turns possessive

➺ the bad decision you keep making

⋆ ˚｡⋆ foot note. comment to be added to the taglist. no fixed posting schedule. each fic will be posted once done.

[matchastwb]

ᨒ ོ ☼ SUMMER GETAWAY BOY .ᐟ | JJK | INTRO

it takes less than three summers for you to fall hopelessly in love with jeon jungkook, but only one night for him to turn that stupid teenage crush into history. ten years later, when you uproot your entire life to finally pursue your dream of opening a bakery, you find yourself right across the street from him again, and realize that maybe your crush on him isn’t quite “history” after all.

⤷ ゛inspo: love & other words by christina lauren & my high school work crush ˎˊ˗

genre/pairing. jeon jungkook x reader (fem oc). teenage friends to ??. grumpy x sunshine. second chance romance. fluff. angst. smut.

tags. baker! reader and bar owner! jungkook, SLOWburn, the one that got away, then & now timelines, (you read both teenage and adult characters!), ten year time skip, coming of age, two year age gap, reader has a fear of marriage?, some emotional trauma, eventual explicit sex

wc. 0.4k (est. total = 30-40k)

notes. guys i know i still have reckless and bf hotline to finish but i just can't wait and i need motivation to finish this! my vision for this story is for it to encapsulate coming of age themes like first loves, self-discovery and teenage stupidity, while also tackling heavier topics like regret, forgiveness, and healing. it will be quite the long one with slower updates and im being very ambitious with what i want to achieve... which is scary bc what if this flops 🙂 lmao it's my first time actually trying to dabble in angst (in a while at least) so please be patient with me!! anyways thank u so much for tuning in, please enjoy the teaser/intro!! <3

main masterlist | playlist | characters | moodboards

When your mom died, she left behind three things: her wedding dress, a cookbook, and a list. 

Everything else was thrown away or donated. She didn’t want to leave behind unnecessary reminders of her death; she only wanted to leave reminders of the things she loved while she was alive.

Her clothes would go out of style. Her makeup would eventually expire. But those three things? They were timeless, and you would grow up to hold onto them as a lifeline whenever you missed her.

The wedding dress was for you to wear when you got married. The cookbook held generations of handwritten recipes. And the list was technically for your father, consisting of parenting rules for him to look to whenever he felt lost, but a lot of it benefited you, too. It helped you feel her presence even if you only knew her as blurry concepts—fragments of memories from early childhood.

Some of your favorite rules included:

Rule #24: When our daughter turns sixteen, let her dye her hair if she wants to. 

Rule #11: If she ever gets in trouble at school, listen to her first. Don’t yell at her.

Rule #7: Start giving her a monthly allowance when she’s twelve. Teach her money management young.

There was one rule in particular, that stuck out to your dad. 

Rule #15: When our daughter is stressed or overwhelmed, take her somewhere relaxing where she can get her mind off of things. At a getaway home or something.

And your father, being your father, took that literally. He was never a man of many words; he preferred to love with his heart rather than with his mouth. What he lacked in tenderness he made up for with devotion. So his big heart (and wallet) bought you a house.

Yes. An entire house.

At the very sensitive age of thirteen years old, you were getting bullied in school for having braces and acne and chubby cheeks; each day you’d come home with a permanent wince on your face, as if you were always trying to hold back tears. Your dad had no idea what to do.

So he went back to the list—as he always did when he wished he could talk to your mom about you—and immediately contacted a real estate agent. Flash forward a month later, and you were driving three towns over to the coast, excitedly greeting the culprit of the recent dent in your dad’s bank account: your very own shiny, sparkly beach house.

It was a three hour drive from your place in the city, with two floors, three bedrooms, and a huge patio that faced the ocean. Even the air there was different—and it wasn’t just because there was no pollution. It was magical. Or at least, that was how it felt to you when you first saw your new getaway home.

And of course, a new home also meant meeting new neighbors.

However, you weren’t quite expecting to meet the total teenage dreamboat that was Jeon Jungkook—all sly smiles and low chuckles, impossible to miss, impossible to amuse.

And you certainly weren’t expecting to fall hopelessly in love with him—and still be in love with him even ten years later.

if you'd like to be added to the taglist for this fic, please leave a comment or reblog with a note! or join my perm taglist :)

[luvismenu]

back to you ,, jeon jungkook — series ,

taglist form // main m.list // navi

summary: you have an interesting relationship with jungkook; your friend (with benefits). and you’re both open to meeting new people. or maybe just you ; telling yourself it’s all casual, that you’re searching for something more. but no matter who you try, no one sticks. every failed attempt only pulls you back to him, to the one person who makes you forget you ever wanted anything else.

pairing: nonchalant!jk x clumsy!oc

genre/tropes/au: smau + written (mostly smau) , uni au, friends with benefits, slow burn-ish , romance, slice of life, friends to lovers, angst

warnings: explicit themes, casual relationships, lots of gc chaos, bts as besties / side characters , jk and yn are in denial, jealousy, explicit language, crack , fluff , lots of yapping abt songs / anime / interests , they lowk bully each other (jokes) , some dates / ’meeting a new guy’ experiences (haha.. luvi's experiences 💔) , jk actin nonchalant but soft w oc , insecure moments, sexting moments?? , implied sex/smut.

note: the fic vibes are defo everytime by ariana grande (the title is inspired by the song 🌷)

start: 28 oct 2025 end: 24 dec 2025

index:

ch:00 intro

ch:01 come get me

ch:02 cool chill girl

ch:03 sweetness

ch:04 casual energy

ch:05 couple bonding

ch:06 call me baby

ch:07 special friend

ch:08 sweet

plot change - emotional? and messy ; (not my best execution)

ch:09 good friends

ch:10 embarassed

ch:11 just a kiss

ch:12 white knight

ch:13 a choice

ch:14 reassurance

ch:15 start over

extra — the end

© 2025 luvi. All rights reserved.

[jungkookmyoneandonlybaby]

❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

[dreamersparacosm]

under the mistletoe ᯓ★ jeon jungkook

a dreamersparacosm holiday special .ᐟ.ᐟ

SUMMARY. Every Christmas, since you were six years old, Jeon Jungkook gave you a kiss under the mistletoe. But when you were fifteen, you were replaced by a revolving door of girlfriends. Thus began your decade-long aversion to the holiday—this year, however, you’ve been tasked with hosting the annual Christmas soirée, and there’s no telling what might be waiting for you under the mistletoe this time around.

pairing. jeon jungkook x reader

word count. 23.8k

warnings/genre. childhood best friends to lovers (aka idiots to lovers if you squint!!!), slight angst, fluff, reader is the grinch reincarnated, jungkook is oblivious, alcohol consumption, smut, oral and fingering (f receiving), multiple orgasms, big dick jungkook bc what else, unprotected sex sorry she’s on the pill, crying during sex (but in a cute way), it’s all just really cute i kinda hate them

note. welcome to the dreamersparacosm golden era… two one-shots over 15k words in one month. my fingers are tired. but it’s all fine n dandy bc it’s the HOLIDAYS!!! and what better way to celebrate than with a friends to lovers fic? believe it or not, this was originally going to be enemies with lovers, but i had a long talk with myself and realized that theres no way in hell i could ever do justice to a e2l in under 304949k words, but rest assured there is enough pining and angst to keep you well-fed 🥰 oc is yearning final boss, jungkook is a slowburner who’s also an idiot. my favorite kind of couple! i hope you all had a wonderful holiday! p.s: stay tuned for an extra special treat from these two later today :)

▶︎ •၊၊||၊|။|||| last christmas by wham

banner creds | masterlist | epilogue blurb

The Grinch has always been your favorite Christmas movie. 

Not because it’s particularly funny or thrilling, but because you can relate to that pessimistic green ball of fur. He despises the holiday just as much as you do—and that’s generous, considering your animosity towards the day has reached unfeasible levels. You might be worse than the aforementioned ball of fur. 

There’s really no one else to blame for your aversion to the holiday… besides Jeon Jungkook. 

Jeon Jungkook has been your best friend since cradle. Your mother and his shared a room at the hospital, and since then, have kept a tight-knit relationship. Growing up, you and Jungkook shared more life experiences than siblings would. Conjoined birthdays, first day of school, puberty, heartbreak. It was hard not to imagine him in your life, when he had already invaded every part of it with his infectious smile and doe-like eyes.

Every Christmas, since you were six years old, Jeon Jungkook gave you a kiss under the mistletoe. It started innocently enough, with your parents cooing sweetly as he pressed his little lips to your warm cheek. Your face burnt like a volcano shortly after, your hand pressing up to touch the spot where his lips met your skin every few minutes. 

When you were nine, he upped the ante. He grabbed your face with his grubby hands, and smushed his lips onto yours with a peck. It was precisely three seconds and two milliseconds long (you know because you held your breath). When he pulled away, he smiled that big bunny smile and ran off to play with your toys. Life continued on as such, leaving you behind to pick up the pieces of everything you thought you knew. 

At the age of fifteen, he got his first girlfriend, Haeun. They met in Science class, paired up by accident, but the crush he had on her was with such certainty it took you by storm. That Christmas, he didn’t give you a peck on the lips or the cheek. That year, your body felt empty. That fateful holiday, you watched as Jeon Jungkook gave Park Haeun a big, sloppy, romantic kiss under the mistletoe, one that rivaled any one he ever gave you. 

And so, Christmas went from your favorite day of the year, to your nightmare. 

Even when his and Haeun’s puppy love died out by high school graduation, she was swiftly replaced by Eunji. And then Chaeyoung. And then Sana…and the list went on, and on, and on. 

So, yeah. Christmas. Not your best day. In fact, it’s pretty low on the totem pole, right next to the anniversary of your grandfather’s death. 

All this to say—this is why you’ve been ignoring your best friend’s pleas for the past thirty minutes on hosting the annual Christmas soiree at your apartment. Your humble abode. Your sanctuary. There’s no way in hell you’ll be stringing red and green lights from your ceiling, singing ‘ho, ho, ho’ and passing around jell-o shots that were crafted by the devil himself. And you most definitely, certainly, will not hang up a mistletoe. 

“But why not?” Jungkook whines again, bouncing up and down on your couch cushion like a puppy. His bottom lip juts out slightly, which would be endearing if he was a teenager and not a 28-year old man. 

“Because I don’t want to. I don’t like Christmas.” You ignore him as best as you can, thumbing through your Instagram feed. Engagement posts, pregnancy announcements… god, the holidays are the worst. No, you won’t be blowing ‘baby dust’ to your friends trying to get pregnant. 

“Since when?” He gawks, pausing his movements to stare at your side profile intently. 

“Since forever. You know this,” you say calmly. “The Grinch is my favorite movie.”

He scoffs. “So? It’s mine too. That doesn’t mean I hate Christmas.”

You don’t have the heart to tell him that your abhorrence for the holiday stems from his inability to give you a kiss since the age of fifteen. Thirteen years later, you can’t help but want one still. 

You roll your eyes. “You don’t hate Christmas because you like giving gifts and receiving them.”

“That’s not true,” he argues, snatching your phone out of your hand and tossing it on the coffee table. You finally turn to look at him, and he’s all red cheeks and wide eyes, and it makes you want to die. “You have the nicest apartment out of all of us. We can’t do Namjoon’s because they just had the baby, we can’t do Jisoo’s because Tae is allergic to dogs, and we can’t do mine because I’m renovating. Yours is the best option.”

All true points, but none that you want to confront head-on. “Might it also be that you don’t want to do yours because then people will know you haven’t moved on from Hana?” 

Jungkook’s face contorts, and for a split second, you feel guilty for sinking that low. You didn’t mean to, but it’s true. His most recent ex-girlfriend, Hana, doesn’t live in that apartment anymore, but it almost feels like she does with the amount of her stuff lingering around. They were together for a year, but mysteriously broke up after Christmas last year. 

“Not cool,” he mumbles, playing with his sleeve. 

“I’m sorry,” you sigh, “I just really don’t wanna host, Koo.” 

“C’mon, do it for me,” he pouts, and it becomes even harder to say no to him. You’re putty in his reliable hands. 

“What will I get out of hosting?” You cross your arms over your chest. A hint of a smile creeps onto his face as he realizes you’re slowly beginning to cave. You always do when you start asking questions. 

“Namjoon and Dahyun will cook. Taehyung will make the drinks. And I, your trusty best friend, will task myself with decorating the entire place,” he says proudly, chest puffed out like he’s the Superman of Christmas or something equally as idiotic.

“Jeon Jungkook is going to decorate my apartment?” you question, dumbfounded. “The one who put the star on upside down last year?” 

The memory plays as vivid as ever, a reel of images flashing through your mind of Jungkook proudly grinning at the miniscule tree he helped construct in your living room. The lights barely worked, the ornaments were hanging on by a thread, and the star was upside down, but he swore Michaelangelo would’ve thought it was abstract art.

He rolls his eyes. “Why can’t you let anything go?” 

“And tangled the lights so bad Namjoon had to come over and cut them with scissors?”

Jungkook pouts the same way he used to when he was three. “But—”

“And ate the gingerbread house before we could even display it?”

Jungkook’s mouth opens to defy you, but decides it’s best not to go up against your vicious truths. “I was hungry and you had nothing but expired Chinese food in your fridge,” he grumbles. It’s annoying how easily he can disarm you when he’s boyishly upset at the world. 

In the grand scheme of things, hosting the Christmas soiree at your house is nothing. Nada. Zilch. A blip on your radar. It’s not like he’s asking you to loan him a million won, or donate a kidney to his brother (albeit those are all things you would do for him). He’s simply asking you to open your home to your closest friends to spread holiday cheer. 

Somehow, some way, it feels like the hardest thing you have to do.

Maybe because in the grand scheme of things, you’re also hopelessly, relentlessly, disgustingly in love with Jeon Jungkook, and the word no is not one that leaves your lips often when he’s around. 

“Fine,” you relent. His entire face lights up, and your heart does the same dance it always does. “I have conditions, though.”

“Anything you want.” He scoots closer. You can smell his cologne, a pine and bergamot scent he wears for the holidays. “I’m at your service.”

“We’re gonna do classy Christmas. I’m talking silver decorations, maybe some gold. None of that tacky red and green shit from the dollar store.”

“Uhu.” He nods. “Aligned, captain.”

“All the food will be catered. I’m not making poor Dahyun cook. She has enough on her plate already.” 

He salutes you, which makes you snort. 

“Lastly, and most importantly, no mistletoe.”

His smile falters. Tips downward so that it’s almost unrecognizable. The light in his eyes dims, and now you almost feel guilty. “Wha—why not?”

See, if this were a Christmas romcom broadcasting on Hallmark, this is the pivotal moment where you’d confess everything. How you’ve been in love with him since you were old enough to feel that feeling of warmth in your chest, how watching him kiss other girls made all your kisses seem foolish, how every Christmas without his lips on yours (even platonically) makes you want to move to a foreign country. He’d probably gasp, pull you close, and kiss you right there on your sofa while snow fell cinematically outside your window. Credits would roll over a montage of you two ice skating and baking holiday cookies, all set to some Kelly Clarkson cover of “Last Christmas.”

But this isn’t a Hallmark movie, and you’re not that brave. 

So, instead, you say, “It’s tacky and overdone. I don’t want it in my apartment.”

Jungkook seems genuinely concerned, as though you just informed him you have four days to live and your final wish is to jump out of a plane. “But it’s tradition. Every year, there’s a mistletoe.”

You huff, hugging the blanket wrapped over your legs tighter to you. “Well, I don’t care. That’s my conditions. Take it or leave it.”

He watches quietly for a moment as you inspect the fibers of the blanket. He knows you well enough to not pry further, but he also knows that he’s the only one you’ll talk to if he does decide to investigate. There’s no sound except the rattling of your heater and the sound of cars honking past your window. The television screen remains paused on a scene from The Grinch you could probably recite by heart. 

“Okay,” he finally says. “No mistletoe.”

“Good. Glad that’s settled.” You stand up, desperate for distance. “Now get out. I have work to do.”

“First of all, it’s Sunday. Second of all, we’re watching the Grinch. That’s not work,” he points out.

“I’m sure I could find something to do. I’ve been meaning to dust my bookshelf,” you counter. 

“Oh, really? You walking your squirrel after that?” he teases, smirking. 

“I am actually.” You cross your hands over your chest, the signal you make when it’s time for him to exit your apartment. 

He stands, stretching his arms above his head. His shirt rides up slightly, exposing a sliver of toned stomach, and you have to look away. You’ve been down this road too many times.

“I’ll text you tomorrow about picking up supplies,” he yawns, heading for the door. “We’ll need to grab stuff from my place anyway. I’ve got extra string lights in storage.”

You trail behind him. “Fine.” 

He pauses at the threshold, turning back to look at you. “Thanks for doing this. I know it’s not your favorite thing.”

Oh, If only he knew it was his fault. “Yeah, well. You owe me.”

“I always do,” he grins, and then he’s bounding down your staircase, leaving you alone with the Grinch and the hollowed feeling in your chest that never really goes away.

When you’re certain he’s finally gone, you lock the door and sink back into the couch, pressing play on the remote. On screen, the Grinch is plotting to ruin Christmas, and you can’t help but think to yourself, same, buddy. Same.

He’s probably got the right idea. If you steal all the decorations before he can hang them, accidentally forget to buy eggnog, or come down with the Black Plague on the day of the party, you could ruin the whole thing. 

But you won’t. Despite everything, you can’t actually hurt him. You’d host a thousand Christmas parties, hang a million strands of lights, bake cookies until your hands cramped, if it meant making Jeon Jungkook happy. That’s the real bittersweet tragedy of your situation. Not that he doesn’t love you back, but that you love him enough to pretend you don’t.

Jungkook likes to call his apartment his ‘modest mancave.’

He’s called his bedroom that since you two were old enough to be in school. However, one spring day during Sophomore year, you’d barged in unannounced and found him scrambling to hide a bottle of lotion and suspiciously large pile of tissues. He came up with some daft excuse about allergies, but you knew what the option meant. He knew that you knew. It became just another shared moment in the encyclopedia of your friendship, because that’s what you two always did. You witnessed each other’s embarrassing moments and life continued on.

Which is why his apartment’s state right now doesn't deter you. It's a little messy (okay, a lot messy) with random moving boxes he’s never unpacked stacked haphazardly in corners and furniture pushed against walls at odd angles. There’s a pile of paint swatches on the coffee table, each one a slightly different shade of beige that all look identical to your untrained eye. 

He had texted you earlier in the day to get started on Operation: Un-Grinchify Christmas, as he referred to it. You weren’t really up for it, but he sent you three crying emoji’s and then you were halfway out the door with mismatched socks on. 

Jungkook swears he has a box of light-up reindeer somewhere when you first arrive to his home. Something about them looking like they’re having a seizure when they’re plugged in. He's so entranced in his search he’s completely forgotten about your own holiday dilemma. 

“Koo?” you yell down his hallway. You venture down, stepping over a stack of books and what appears to be a broken lamp, following the sound of muffled cursing.

You find him in his bedroom, halfway inside the closet, ass up in the air. Boxes and random junk are scattered around him—old magazines, a deflated basketball, what looks like his matching Halloween costume with Hana from two years ago.

“I know it’s here somewhere,” he mutters, voice echoing from deep within the closet. Leaning against the doorframe, you cross your arms over your chest, utterly amused by his same old childish ways. 

“Need help, or should I just enjoy the view?” 

“Shut up,” he says, but you can hear the smile in his tone. “I’m finding an ancient artifact.”

“How ancient is it? We talking middle school? Elementary?”

“I don’t know, all I know is—aha!” He backs out, brown hair flopping around, and cracks his head on the closet rod with a thunk. “Fucking fuck—ow—”

You can’t stop the giggle that falls from your lips, and it turns into full-blown laughter when you catch wind of his appearance. He’s rubbing his head, hair sticking up in five different directions. 

But then you see what’s in his hands, and all laughter ceases with a wheeze. It’s the most hideous collection of green and red tinsel garland you’ve ever witnessed. It looks like it’s gonna shed all over your home, and there’s no way you’ll let your cat named Ginger anywhere near that. 

“Ta-da!” He holds it up proudly, grinning brightly. 

“Are you insane?”

“What?” he gawks, inspecting it for himself. “This is the epitome of Christmas.”

“Jungkook, I said classy Christmas. Elegant. That looks like a drunk elf threw up.” You gesture at the…thing, deeply perturbed at the fact he would even show it to you. 

He shakes the garland at you like it might change your mind. “But Christmas needs a little green and red! That’s literally the symbolic colors of the holiday.”

“I don’t care if it was sent down by Santa himself. It’s not going in my home,” you argue. 

“But why?” he pouts, and you can already tell which direction this conversation is going. But you’re standing your ground this time, because if you don’t you’ll fold like papier mache. 

“It looks like it has dust mites from 2014,” you grimace. 

He moves closer, forcing you to look at the grimy strings. “C’mon, just one strand? For your old pal?”

“No.”

“Please?” 

“I will leave, Jungkook.”

He sighs, defeated, and holds the garland out to you anyway. “Fine. But you have to be the one to throw it away. I can’t bear to part ways with her.”

Rolling your eyes, you take it from him, and your fingers brush his. Softly, gently, barely even there to the naked eye. You doubt he even notices it. But heat crawls up your spine and nestles a home in your chest. 

You snap out of it, tossing the garland in the trash in his bedroom. “Why do you even have that anyway?” 

“It was Hana’s.” 

You freeze in your tracks, hand hovering over the trash bin. When you look back at him, his ears are pink, eyes trained on some shadow on the wall behind you. “Oh.”

“Yeah.” He clears his throat, rubs the back of his neck. One of his nervous tics from childhood. “I’ve been meaning to get rid of her stuff. What you said yesterday... it kind of stuck with me.”

Guilt settles in your bones. “Koo, I didn’t mean—”

“No, you’re right.” He finally catches your gaze. “I’ve been holding onto things I shouldn’t. Not even because I miss her, really. It’s just—I don’t know. Easier to keep it than deal with it, y’know?

You do know. You know all too well. You’ve been keeping your feelings in a box for years for the exact same reason. 

“But I’m trying now,” he continues. “To move on. Actually move on, not just say I am. It still feels weird, throwing away a part of my life. Even if I know it’s the right thing to do.”

Throughout your life, you have continuously kept a square of people in your life that you care about. It mostly consists of your parents, Jungkook, his parents, and your friends. You don’t ever really rearrange it to make space for others, because you already have the ones that matter. You hope that when Jungkook rearranges his square, maybe removes Hana, you take up a bigger chunk of it. 

“I’m proud of you,” you smile. Even if the selfish part of you has been waiting for this moment since last Christmas.

He returns your smile with a feeble one of his own. “Thanks.”

For a moment, you two stand there, soaking in the silence. But just like that, it always falls back into place the way it’s meant to be. “I need your silverware for my kitchen, by the way. I’m not using mine for this party.”

“What? Why not?” He furrows his brows. 

“Because I don’t want Taehyung's drunk ass dropping my good forks down the garbage disposal like last New Years.”

Jungkook rolls his eyes. “He apologized and paid for new ones.”

“But it wasn’t the same exclusive ones I had,” you sing-song, leading him back down the hallway to his kitchen. “Show me what you’ve got, mister.”

For the next hour, you two bicker over everything. He wants to bring the fork set with wooden handles, but you object with the fact that they look like they belong in a cabin in the forest. 

Then it’s the string lights. He’s insistent on multicolored ones, big bulbs of green, yellow, and red that would look outdated against the rest of your apartment. You opt for the warm white ones, and he sticks his tongue out at you and says you’re boring. 

He’s a child. You make sure to tell him that about five separate times. On the sixth time, however, he retorts, “You take that back.”

“Make me.”

He waves a serving spoon at you. “I’m not playing with you, young lady.”

“Oh, please,” you wave him off. “You’re the one who begged me to host.”

It’s comfortable, the way it always is. The bickering, the back-and-forth, the way you can read each other’s expressions before the words even come out.

At some point, while you’re debating whether his punch bowl is too tacky (it is), he wipes his hands on a dish towel and tosses it over his shoulder. “You should check the closet in case you see anything else you wanna take.”

“The old shit in there?” 

He smacks you with the towel. You yelp, leaping back a few inches. “There’s goodies in there too, I’ll have you know.”

“Sure, Koo. Goodies, otherwise known as old shit.” But you’re already laughing, walking back into his room and diving into the closet.

You push back the ugly garland’s former neighbors. There’s a box of tangled charging cables, some old textbooks from college, a pair of busted headphones. It’s very standard Jungkook chaos. His mind is also disorganized, so it’s no wonder he has the room to match. 

You rummage around a bit more, sighing as you wave the dust from your face. 

On the top shelf, shoved way back in the top corner, you come across a box. 

Small, cardboard, duct-taped on the bottom half into oblivion. There’s a piece of paper taped to the front, and even in the dim closet light, you can make out your name written in his messy handwriting. [Y/N].

For a moment, you blink at the box, heart pounding, and then realize you have no idea what to do. 

If you open it, maybe he’ll know. Then you’ll look like a stalker. On the other hand, he’s been your best friend since birth, so finding out you have stalker tendencies might not be a dealbreaker. 

You stretch up on your toes, tugging the box toward you just enough to peek inside. A flash of worn brown fur catches your eyes, and then you see the teddy bear ear flopping out. Your teddy bear. You lost it in middle school, and you assumed it was gone forever, donated or thrown away during one of your mom’s delirious cleaning sprees. 

He kept it. 

“Find anything good?” Jungkook’s voice migrates from the kitchen. You jolt, almost dropping the box. Your hands shake as you shove it back into place, blood whooshing through your eardrums. 

“Nah,” you call back. Your voice sounds a bit shaky, but you hide it behind several coughs. “I was right. Old shit.”

You back out of the closet, closing the door carefully. What else is in there?

Later that night, when sleep proves itself to be unfeasible, and you’re tossing and turning underneath your comforter, you ponder what else might be in the box, and if he keeps it for the same reason you’ve kept every birthday card he’s ever written you. Tucked away in your own closet, in your own box, with his name on it. 

Apparently, hosting a Christmas soiree is not as straightforward as you’d hoped it would be.

First, there’s Jisoo, who texts a novel about how she’s trying this new clean eating thing and can there please be gluten free and dairy free options? You respond with a thumbs up, and then run to text Jennie to see if she’s actually serious. She sends back a skull emoji, which 1) you’re not sure what that implies and 2) you guess it’s confirmation that yes, she’s serious, but also yes, she’ll quit and eat regular food after two glasses of wine. 

Then Taehyung calls to inform you he’s trying to maintain a vegetarian lifestyle, and not the kind that occasionally eats fish, but the kind that will know if you used chicken stock in any recipe. You add “vegetable stock” to your growing shopping list, since catering cost more than your rent, and resist the urge to bang your head against the counter.

Namjoon sends his regrets that he and Dahyun can’t stay long because baby Haewon is ‘in turmoil right now,’ which translates to ‘we’ll be there for an hour max.’ You’re not even annoyed about that one—you’ve seen the bags under Namjoon’s eyes, and honestly, you’re impressed he’s coming at all.

The point is, you’ve given up. By Wednesday, your Notes app looks like a grocery list written by someone having a mental breakdown, and you’re seriously reconsidering this whole thing.

To his credit, Jungkook tries to help as much as possible. Inevitably, this means dragging him to your apartment on weekends, even though you do that often enough already. Saturday morning, he shows up with boxes, four different sets of more lights, some ornaments, all of them white, all of them looking functionally identical.

“Okay,” he says, holding up the first strand. “Which one screams ‘this is a classy Christmas’?”

You squint at it from the couch, hugging your mug of hot chocolate. “Hmm. I don’t know. That one kinda screams dollar store.”

“Cut.” He drops it and holds up the second. “This one?”

“Hmm, uglier than the first.”

“How can someone be so picky?” He holds up the third, and you can see him struggle to hold a straight face. “Fine. This one. Final answer.”

Tilting your head, you study it. It has a warm hue, the bulbs delicate and tiny. It’s kind of pretty, sans the scratches on some of the bulbs. “I think we have ourselves a winner.” 

“Sold.” He drops the others in the pile he’s been gathering. The ones on the right are the takers, the ones on the left are getting deposited in your dumpster at 5PM sharp. “See? This is why we make a good team.”

You have to fight not to let your mind wander off when he says things like that. “Barely. When we were five, we were on the same team for kickball and you nearly broke my ankle.”

He frowns, “Okay, but then I patched you up good as new with a Hello Kitty bandaid. That shit wasn’t easy to find.”

It was over two decades ago, but still remains a permanent fixture in your brain. You were sprawled on the playground, crying so hard you’d given yourself hiccups, convinced your ankle was shattered and your legs would be cut off. Jungkook had run to get the teacher, but came back before she did, sliding on his knees beside you like some action hero. He’d pulled a crumpled Hello Kitty bandaid from his pocket (you have no idea why he had it, he’d never explained) and stuck it on your ankle with the utmost seriousness, tongue poking out in concentration. “All better,” he had promised. Miraculously, you’d stopped crying. It wasn’t because the bandaid helped, but because Jungkook looked so proud of himself, you didn’t have the heart to tell him your ankle still hurt. 

“You’re still a pain in my ass.”

“Yeah, yeah, but who’s doing this home renovation for free? Me.”

You can’t argue with that. 

He continues pulling things from the boxes. More tinsel, garlands, ornaments in muted golds and silvers. Each item gets held up for your approval, and you find yourself less focused on the decorations and more on him. His cheeks flush crimson when you compliment one of his choices. A bright smile overtakes his features when you agree to something halfheartedly just because it makes the smile grow tenfold. 

You’d fallen for him a long time ago, but even now you realize how far down you’ve already gone. 

“Oh shit,” he exhales, freezing midway through a box. “No way.”

“What?” You shift excitedly on the couch, trying to peer into the box.

He pulls out a photo album, the edges frayed and the cover dusty. You recognize it as soon as you see it. It was one of the many your moms had compiled over the years, chronicling every significant (and insignificant) moment of your joint childhood.”

“I forgot I even had this,” he says incredulously, flipping it open. He moves to the couch, dropping down beside you, and his knee brushes yours.

Your body knows to jerk back instinctively, heart jumping into your throat. He doesn't notice, too absorbed in the photos, but your knee burns where it touched him.

“God, look at us,” he laughs, pointing to a picture of you both at around 7 years old, covered head to toe in mud. “Your mom was pissed at us.”

“Yeah, she was pissed because you pushed me into the puddle,” you remind him.

“And then I got you out of it.” 

“You said ‘watch this’ and then did it. I don’t think you really won brownie points with Mom,” you laugh at the memory. 

He flips through the book, oohing and aahing everytime you stumble across a cute picture. They’re reminiscent of a time when everything was easy, when you didn’t have to worry about adult things like taxes and bills and groceries. It was just you and Jungkook, conquering the world one playdate at a time. 

Jungkook flips to the next page. There’s a photo taped to the page, with your mom’s handwriting underneath. “Christmas, 9 years old, Busan.”

You're both standing under a mistletoe that looks comically large above your small heads. His lips are pressed to yours in that brief, earth-shattering peck you still think about once in a while (or more precisely, when it’s late at night and you’re missing his presence).

You take a deep breath. Your chest feels tight, like someone’s tugging on it by the ends of a string. 

Jungkook stares at the photo for what feels like forever, an unreadable expression crossing his face. “I remember this,” he quietly says. 

You can’t speak. Your tongue feels like deadweight. 

“You held your breath and everything,” he reminisces, and you suddenly feel breathless. Like you’re drowning and gasping for air, but even when you hit the surface, it’s not enough. 

He flips the page again, and there's another one. Age 10. Same mistletoe, different living room. It was the year your parents moved homes, but remained down the street from Jungkook’s. You’re wearing a red dress your mom made you wear, and he’s in a sweater that's too big. His hand is on your cheek, and you can see, even in the photo, how red your face was.

“We did this every year,” he notes, and there’s a nostalgic edge to his voice that wasn’t there before. 

“Yeah.” The word comes out hoarse. You clear your throat. And then the words are out before you can stop them, tinged with wistfulness, "Until we didn’t.”

Jungkook doesn’t acknowledge that. Just flips again. Through age 11, age 12, age 13, age 14. Each photo is a documentation of a tradition that meant everything to you. 

Then he turns the page, and the mistletoe is gone. Age 15.  You’re standing stiffly next to Haeun, who’s tucked under his arm, beaming at the camera. You look like you want to disappear.

“Hm,” he hums, frowning. “I guess we stopped here.”

It’s so juvenile, so high school it’s almost embarrassing. He hadn’t cared for the absence of your kiss. For him, it was a silly thing your families let you partake in. “You had Haeun. The mistletoe thing was for kids anyway”

“Was it though?” He studies the photo, and you wish he would stop, wish he would close the album and move on to anything else. The question isn’t meant to be flirtatious but a selfish part of you wishes it was. “I always thought it was fun.”

“Our parents got so excited over it.” He flips back to the earlier photos, running his finger over the vintage picture. “We’d be right under the mistletoe and she’d count down with her camera ready like it was the New Years countdown.”

“She was probably hoping to plaster us on some kids’ Christmas ad.”

“It was cute.” He lands on the photo from when you were six—the very first one. His tiny self kissing your cheek, your hand frozen mid-reach to touch the spot. “Look how tiny we were. Little babies.”

He says it so innocently that something inside you stumbles. 

You cover your face with your hands, as if he could see the adoration written all over your face. But even if he could, he probably wouldn’t say anything “I’m mortified. I didn’t realize my mom took so many pictures of us kissing as kids.” 

He scrunches his brows, looking over at you. “Was it really that bad?” 

Yes. No. It was the best and worst thing that ever happened to you. “Kinda. I mean, I survived, didn’t I?”

“Barely, from the looks of it.” He taps the photo, where baby you looks seconds away from a panic attack. “It’s not like I had cooties.”

You smile. “Oh, yes you did. If anyone had cooties, it was definitely you. You ran that playground like it was your personal dating pool.”

“Rude.” He bumps your shoulder, turning the page slowly, lingering on each mistletoe photo. “I can’t believe we did this for almost a decade.”

“Used me for practice?” It doesn’t feel like there’s enough air in your apartment, even with the window cracked open. It’s taking tremendous effort to breathe.

“Worked well for us, I think.”

“Why’d you stop?” 

Oh god, you’ve really done it now.  

Surprisingly enough, the embarrassment comes belatedly, but it settles in your stomach all the stronger. 

Surprise flashes across his face. “What?”

“After Haeun. I guess… I don’t know. You never—” You wish you could say the words, wish you could be brave, wish you could be six years old again with Jeon Jungkook’s lips on your cheek. “Why’d it just… end?”

He’s quiet. The sound of your space heater rattling and Ginger purring fills the room, but not enough to quell the anxiety that’s rumbling in your stomach. He’s going to let you down gently, you hope. Quick and painless, like a bullet to the head.

“I don’t know. I guess I thought you didn’t want to anymore. We were older. I thought it would feel weird to you.”

Weird. 

And this whole time, for you, his kiss was nothing short of ethereal. 

“Plus,” he continues, oblivious to the way your heart is splintering, “I figured it’d be uncomfortable doing it once I had girlfriends. Like it would be... I don't know. Inappropriate or something.”

He was being considerate. Somehow, and you know you’re being irrational, that makes it worse.

“It makes sense.” You force a smile. “Relax, Koo. I’m not writing sonnets about your lips every night.”

He snorts. “Oh, please, you wish you could have lips as luscious as mine.”

You push his shoulder, and then it’s just you and Jungkook again. Nothing more, nothing less. 

He flips through a few more pages, ogling at pictures even you’d never seen before. He points to one where you're both wearing matching reindeer antlers. “Now, this should be on a Christmas card.”

“I’m shocked my mom didn’t have cards made. I would’ve burned them”

“You’re such a Grinch.” He closes the album but keeps it in his lap, fingers tracing the worn cover. Jungkook is quiet for another moment, and you catch the look on his face, the one he makes when he’s struggling to choose his words correctly. Decisively, he says, “Did you really hate it? The mistletoe thing?”

Your heart hammers. This is it, you think. This is where you could tell him. Where you could say actually, I loved it, I lived for it, I died a little every year you stopped.

But he’s looking at you with curiosity, as if he’s pondering what your favorite color is or what you had for breakfast. As if the answer doesn’t matter beyond satisfying his momentary interest.

You lie. “It was fine. Just a stupid kid thing.”

He sets the album aside, wiping his dusty palms on the front of his pants. “Yeah. Totally.” 

Jungkook moves back to the decoration boxes, and you remain frozen on the couch. You grip your safety blanket as tight as you can, until you think you feel your blood flow cutting off. You just want to feel numb. 

“You know what is crazy, though?” He pulls out a string of garland, examining it for tangled bits. “You used to be obsessed with Christmas.”

Your stomach does a somersault. “I was not.”

“Yeah, you kinda were.” His eyes linger on the garland, although you’re certain it’s in perfect condition. “You made us watch Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer and Frosty the Snowman on repeat. You also made us build snowmen every single time it snowed, even when it was like, two inches.”

“Everyone loves those things when you’re a kid.”

“Yeah, I guess.” he sighs. “But I don’t know. You had a countdown, you’d call me everyday in December to tell me how many days were left. That was your favorite holiday, and now I’m the only one who likes it.” 

You shrug, hoping to come across as nonchalant, but you know he can read your face like an open book. “People change.”

“When did you even stop liking it?” He picks up a few string lights, untangling them as he’s doing to you currently. 

Your throat tightens. “High school, maybe?”

“Cause of stress or something? School shit?” 

“Sure.”

“It’s a yes or no question.”

“That’s the answer you’re getting.” You really, really wish there was a sinkhole that could swallow you entirely right now. 

He studies you, and you can see him thinking, piecing together something you don’t want him to figure out. But despite it all, he just shrugs, letting it go. “It's depressing. You used to light up the whole room when Christmas came around. Now you look like someone killed Ginger."

She purrs in the corner. 

“Sorry, Ging.” He throws the lights to the yes pile. It’s surprisingly larger than the no pile. “I just want you to be happy this Christmas. That’s all I care about.”

You half-smile at him, nodding. You don’t know how to tell him that you could be happy, could be ecstatic, if just this Christmas, you felt his lips on yours again.

Turns out, it’s a lot easier to throw yourself into party planning when you’re trying to distract yourself from something.

This whole debacle makes you realize you’ve never actually hosted a Christmas party. You actively avoid Christmas. What made you think you could pull this off? (Granted it’s all Jungkook’s fault, but that’s neither here nor there.)

The group chat you made for the attendees is already chaos—Jisoo asking about the playlist, Taehyung confirming he’s still vegetarian (yes, still, it's been four days), Dahyun asking if she can breastfeed in your bedroom. Your anxiety spikes with every notification.

So it’s no surprise that the day before the party, you wake up in a cold sweat at 6AM with the horrifying realization that you have no idea what you’re doing. By the time Jungkook arrives at noon, you’ve managed to rearrange your furniture three times and stress-clean your bathroom until it’s sterile enough to perform surgery in. 

“Wow,” He steps inside, taking in the boxes of decorations you’ve laid out for him to tackle. “Did you even sleep?” 

“I would, but Jisoo and Jennie are blowing up my phone like this is the fucking MET Gala or something.” You huff, not pausing your incessant scrubbing of your kitchen sink. 

“They know it’s just the annual Christmas party… right?”

You puff another exasperated breath. “Yes. But none of that matters to them because they’ve sent me 30 different outfit options like I’m going to be judging them personally or something.”

He bites back a smile. “It’s time to call in the big guns. Where can I get my hands dirty, sergeant?”

You really are grateful he’s here. And exists. And all those other sentimental things that your heart sings about constantly. 

You two go full decorator mode, moving through your apartment like a well-oiled machine. He hangs the garland while you untangle lights, arrange the ornaments while he figures out how to make your bookshelf look “festive but not icky.” His words, not yours.

It’s disgusting how much Christmas is invading your space. Your minimal, clean apartment now looks like Santa threw up in it. There are silver bells on your kitchen counter, a wreath on your door that's so aggressively pine-scented you can taste it. There are candles labeled things like “Winter Wonderland” and “Cinnamon Craze” that you know will take weeks to burn through after this is all said and done.

But you keep going, because if you stop, you’ll think. If you think, you’ll remember the photo album, the mistletoe pictures, the dumb kid thing.

“Alright, I need my harshest critic.” Jungkook motions to you to survey the living room. 

Standing beside him, you inspect the damage. Warm white lights are strung along your windows and wrapped around your bookshelf. A garland drapes elegantly across your mantle (you don't have a fireplace, but the decorative mantle suddenly feels worth it). There are small golden ornaments scattered tastefully on your side tables, and the wreath on the door is admittedly very pretty, even if it does smell like a forest. 

“Not too shabby, Jeon.”

He looks offended. “Yeah, no shit. I deserve better than that.”

“Subpar at best.”

“I’m gonna punt Ginger like a football.”

“I think the lights are nice,” you finally concede, because they are. They make your apartment look warm, cozy even.

“Told you I was good at this." He's grinning like a Cheshire cat, that proud, bunny-toothed smile that makes your chest hurt. “Admit it. I crushed this.”

You roll your eyes. “You did alright.”

He gapes, blinking frantically. “Okay? Okay? I turned your Grinch lair into a winter wonderland!”

“My abode is not a lair.”

“It was before I arrived.” He sticks his tongue out, and you shove his shoulder. 

“I think we're done,” you say, more to yourself than to him. “This is... yeah. This is enough.”

“Well… almost.” Jungkook looks like a kid who’s just been told he can’t have dessert before dinner but is already plotting how to sneak a cookie anyway.

Your stomach sinks. “What do you mean almost?” you ask, even though you think you already know. 

“I have a surprise.” 

You protest, “Jungkook—”

“Wait right here.” He holds up a hand, jogs back toward the entryway where he’d dropped his bag earlier. You stiffen like you’re made of ice, the only thing moving in your body being your heartbeat that thumps along the walls of your ribcage. 

Please don’t be what you think it is. Please don’t be what you think it is. 

He turns around, and your heart sinks lower than where your stomach sat.

In his hand, dangling from a red ribbon, is a mistletoe.

It’s small, crinkled, fake plastic leaves bent at weird angles like it was shoved in the back of his closet for years. It probably has been. 

“No,” you object immediately. 

“Come on—”

“No. This is a hard no, Jungkook.” And you know you’re being harsh, but it’s the only way you’ll get him to stop whatever efforts he’s decided are worth his time. 

“You said no mistletoe in the apartment,” he argues, walking toward you with that stupid sprig held up. “Technically, this is going above the doorway, which is a threshold. Not in the apartment.”

“That’s the worst logic I’ve ever heard.”

“But it’s tradition!” You can see the hope in his eyes, the genuine excitement, and it makes you want to rip your hair out. “Every Christmas party needs a mistletoe.”

“Not this one.”

“Especially yours. Ours.” His voice softens, and that's worse somehow. “For old times’ sake?”

You hate the tone in his voice, the guilt-tripping, the pity. 

“I don’t want it,” you repeat. “I told you this already.”

His smile falters as he realizes you’re truly serious. “Why not?

“Because it’s stupid and outdated and I don’t want people making a big deal about it.”

“Why would any of our friends make a big deal—”

“Jungkook,” you plead, crossing your arms, putting a physical barrier between you and that mistletoe. “I said no.’

He just stares at you, confusion and hurt flickering across his face. “I don’t get it. It’s literally just a mistletoe. It’s supposed to be fun.”

Fun, weird… a list of words that describe the opposite of what mistletoe makes you feel.

“It’s not fun for me.” You burn holes into your floor, refusing to look at his puppy eyes that would make you feel more guilty than you already do. 

“Why not?”

Because everytime I look at it, I think about you kissing me when we were kids. Because it reminds me of when Christmas was my favorite day of the year. Because seeing it in my apartment, above my doorway, at my party, will make me think about all the Christmases you kissed other girls and not me.

“Because I don’t like it,” you decide upon, “Can’t you just respect that?”

An awkward silence spreads amongst you two, punctured only by Ginger purring in the corner. Jungkook's hand drops to his side, mistletoe dangling limply from his fingers.

“Fine,” he murmurs. “No mistletoe.”

“Thank you,” you sigh in relief. 

He walks back to his bag and shoves it inside, and you should feel relieved. You should feel like you’ve won. But instead, you just feel like you’ve punched him square in the face.

“I should probably go,” he says, not meeting your eyes. “Let you rest before the big day tomorrow.”

“Oh, uh, yeah.” You shift on your feet awkwardly. 

He gathers his things timidly, and you know he’s giving you time to take it back, to say you’re sorry, to explain, to undo the angst you’ve created. 

At the door, he pauses before reaching for the doorknob. Jungkook turns, clutching his bag strap so tightly his knuckles resemble those of a ghost. “I really don't understand what's going on with you.”

“Nothing’s going on,” you mutter. 

“That’s utter bullshit,” he snaps, and you raise your eyes to meet his. The usual warm chocolate shade of his orbs now shifts to onyx. “You’ve been weird about this whole Christmas party thing since day one.”

“I said, there’s nothing going on. I don’t want to talk about it,” you repeat, hoping it’ll stick.

“But I do!” His voice rises, and you flinch. Jungkook doesn’t yell. Not once in your lifelong friendship has he ever raised his voice or laid a finger on anyone. You were never involved in any of his relationship arguments, but you imagine he never argued with them like this. You suddenly feel dizzy, like the world is spinning too quickly for you to catch your breath. “I’ve known you forever. You’re my best fucking friend, and something is clearly wrong, so just tell me.”

Frustration coils in your stomach. Why can’t he ever leave anything alone? “Stop it. Please, just stop. Why can’t you just respect my boundaries? I said no mistletoe. I said I don’t want to talk about it. Why isn’t that enough for you?”

“This obviously is not just about the fucking mistletoe, [Y/N].” He tugs at his hair, rage rolling off him in waves. “Since the moment I brought up you hosting, you acted like I was attacking you.”

“Because you are!” None of it makes sense, not one bit, but you can’t tell between anger and panic and all you can see is red. “Maybe because you just bulldoze through my life, rearranging things, making decisions, assuming you know what's best—”

“We’re best friends. We help each other with everything,” he grits through clenched teeth.

“I’m not Hana, Jungkook. I won’t just let you decorate my life and pretend everything's perfect.”

For a moment, Jungkook seems taken aback by your outburst, recoils a step, landing with his spine against the front door. His face goes pale. “Wow. That’s fucking low.”

“Is it?” You're on a roll now, unable to stop even though you can see you’re hurting him. Maybe you just want him to hurt the way you do. “Because when you kept all of Hana’s things, when your apartment was basically a shrine to her, I never said a fucking thing about it. I just let you deal with it however you needed to. So why can’t you give me the same courtesy? Why can’t you just let this go?”

“Hana and I broke up!” His voice cracks, eyes glassy, “That’s so different and you know it.”

“How is it different? Enlighten me.”

“She was my girlfriend. And it hurt, okay? It hurt to let her go. But I did it. I'm doing it because it’s over and I don’t miss her that way anymore. And you’re the one who pushed me to. So don’t—" He pauses, jaw clenched, and you can see he’s trying to swallow his tears. “Don’t throw that in my face like I’m some pathetic asshole who can't move on.”

Fuck. “Koo—”

“No.” He holds up a hand. It’s shaking. “You want boundaries? Fine. Here’s one: don’t call me until you figure out what the fuck is actually going on with you. Because this isn’t you. The you I know doesn’t make me feel like shit for trying to care about you.”

You swallow around the lump forming in your throat. “Jungkook, I’m so sorry—”

“Save it.” His voice is quieter, and you miss the yelling, because at least then he still cared about you. He’s given up. “I’ll still come to the party tomorrow because I told everyone I would. But after that… maybe we should take a break from each other or something.”

“Oh.”

Throughout the duration of your friendship, you and Jungkook have only ever fought once. It was known as The Great Argument of 11th Grade, and it was so juvenile that even your parents got involved. Now, you don’t really remember the specifics of what went down or who started it, but you do remember that it only lasted a day, because Jungkook said, “you know I can’t stay away from you for too long.”

The concept of space from him is one you’ve never considered. 

He leaves before you can say anything more, the door clicking shut with finality, echoing through your decorated apartment.

You stand there, frozen, staring at the space where he was. The mistletoe is still in his bag. He took it with him.

The rest of your unfortunate day is spent spiraling about your argument with Jungkook. You sit on the couch, crying to some stupid Hallmark movie where the girl gets the guy and everything works out perfectly. Then you cry in the shower, the water mixing with your tears until you can’t tell which is which. You go so far as to cry in your car on the way to the grocery store, because you two were supposed to go together to prepare for this stupid party.

Even the supermarket is taunting you. There’s couples everywhere walking around gleefully, hand-in-hand, debating between red or green napkins like it’s the most important decision of their lives. Meanwhile, you’re shuffling through the aisles in a massive oversized hoodie that’s doing nothing to hide your puffy eyes and red nose.

Sniffling, you round the corner to the next aisle, looking for Taehyung’s stupid vegetable broth. Your cart collides with someone else’s with a loud clang, and you’re thrown, apologizing like crazy, “Ohmygod, I’m so sorry, I wasn’t paying attention—”

“[Y/N]?”

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Hana. 

The last time you saw Hana was last January after the breakup. She was collecting her things at Jungkook’s apartment, and you’d shown up at the wrong moment. Her eyes were bloodshot, movements solemn as she shoved books and clothes into a duffel bag. She’d barely looked at you, just mumbled a quiet “hey” before brushing past you in the hallway. You had felt guilty then, even though you had no reason to be. 

At least now, she looks radiant. Her skin reflects off the luminescent overhead lights, cart stocked full of fancy cheeses and wine bottles and overpriced crackers. She looks like someone who has her shit together. Someone who’s moved on.

Unlike you, apparently, who looks like you’ve been crying in your car. Which, by all means, you absolutely were. 

“Hana,” you slap a smile onto your face, although you’re 99 percent certain it looks strained. “It’s good to see you.”

“You too!” She seems actually happy about the encounter. It’s not like you two ever had a bad relationship, but you weren’t besties by any means. “It’s been forever.”

“Yeah, almost a year.” You’re too hyperaware of your puffy eyes, your ratty hoodie, the fact that you probably look like you’ve been hit by a truck. But of course, she looks like she just stepped out of Vogue.

“How have you been?” she asks. 

“Good. Busy. You know, the holidays,” You nod at your cart, which contains three different types of cheeses, ten bags of chips, and a bag of chocolate chips for yourself because you need to eat your feelings when you get home. 

“I do,” she laughs. “Work has been insane lately. I barely have time to go outside.”

“Right, you’re at that new marketing agency now?” You remember Jungkook mentioning it once, back when talking about Hana was therapeutic for him.

“I do.” she nods. “It’s a lot but I love it. What about you? Still at the magazine?”

“I am. I actually just finished a pretty big piece, so that’s good.”

“That’s amazing,” she earnestly responds. You want to hate her—it would be easier if you could hate her—but she’s always been kind. Even when you wanted to despise her for being with Jungkook, she made it impossible.

There’s a lull in conversation, and you debate making a run for it until she asks, “How are you and Jungkook?”

You furrow your brows. She could just ask you about Jungkook. You wouldn’t judge her  for wondering. “What do you mean?”

“I just—” A crimson blush creeps onto her cheeks. “I mean, how are you guys doing?”

Why would she ask about you both together? Granted, it’s not that unreasonable. You and Jungkook are attached at the hip; everyone knows that. “We’re… good? He’s good.”

“Cool,” she says, but she doesn’t even look convinced by your answer. 

You don’t know why you feel the need to overshare, but it all comes tumbling out like word vomit. “Yeah, he’s actually been helping me plan this Christmas party. Total nightmare, honestly. He’s been at my place basically every day this week, decorating and—”

She cracks a smile. “That’s so cute you guys are still inseparable.”

“I mean… “ you trail off, slightly confused by her angle. “We’re best friends. So yeah.”

“Of course,” she rushes to say. “Duh. Silly me.”

“Is that... weird?” You clear your throat and shift on your feet. You don’t even know what she’s trying to get at anymore, and honestly, you really need to get as far away from this supermarket (or Seoul) as fast as you can. 

“No! No, not weird. I think it’s sweet, actually.” She pauses before adding, “I'm really happy for you guys”

Either you must be braindead, or she’s undergoing memory loss. “I’m sorry Hana, I don’t think I’m following.”

She laughs softly, but it’s not mocking. “Come on, [Y/N]. You don’t have to pretend with me.”

Your stupid heart skips a beat, your brain struggling to make sense of her words. “Pretend about what?”

“That you and Jungkook aren’t together, obviously.” 

Have you entered an alternate universe? Did you accidentally drive into another dimension in all your sadness, missed the supermarket completely?

“What?” you sputter. “No, we’re not—oh my god, no. We would never, I mean—we’re best friends.”

She reaches out, placing a warm hand over your own. You’re going to die. It’ll be a painful death, but you’ll make it work. Anything to get out of this. “No, it’s okay. You can tell. Honest to god, I’m seeing someone now. I’m not like, jealous or anything.”

It’s confirmed. You’ve entered an alternate world where you’ll soon grow a second head and become the queen of a make-believe land. 

“Hana, I’m dead serious. Jungkook and I are not dating.” You need her to believe you. You need someone to believe you, because if Hana thinks there’s something there, what the fuck does that mean? “We’ve never dated. We’re just friends. That’s all we’ve ever been.”

She studies your face, searching for the lies. Confusion replaces her certainty. “Wait, really?”

“Really.”

“But you…” She trails off, shaking her head. “Wow. Okay. I genuinely thought you guys had finally gotten together.”

Your throat constricts. “W-Why would you think that?”

“Because,” she stops, biting her lip. “Nevermind. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have assumed.”

It gives you pause for a minute, and your heart—that idiotic organ of yours that can never let go of anything—trembles in your chest. 

“No, what were you going to say?” You’re not sure you want to know, but you can’t let it go now.

She casually flicks her hand. “It’s nothing, I swear.”

You exhale a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. “Hana. Please.”  

She sighs, shifting on her feet. “It’s just... when Jungkook and I were together, it was always pretty clear that you were the most important person in his life. Which, like, I totally respected! I did, I get it. But it was also kind of hard sometimes, you know? Like I was always competing with this... ghost. This idea of what you two had.”

Ever since you were young, people had this tendency to group you and Jungkook into this category of fate, as if the universe had done you both a favor by placing you in adjacent hospital cribs. It was always “you’re lucky to have each other” and “what a gift to be so close,” that you had never stopped to consider that your luck, your fate, your happiness, your shining star, might cast shadows on the people who tried to love him.

“Hana, I never meant to—”

“No, no,” she rushes to say, “Trust me, it wasn’t you. You did nothing wrong. Neither did he, really. He tried his best. But I could always tell his heart wasn’t fully in it. At least, not in the way it should have been.”

Words fall short of what you want to say. Hana and Jungkook’s relationship had always felt like something out of reach to you. An enigma. The plot of some braindead romance novel. They met at a concert, an underground indie band that only the two of them liked.  He had stumbled home that night with a smile on his face that couldn’t be erased, eyes bright as exploding stars, talking so fast his words tripped over each other. You remember thinking this is it, the real thing, the love that rewrites him.  You had never imagined that magic would ever run dry. 

“Anyway,” Hana continues, “I just assumed that once we broke up, you two would figure it out. The way he talked about you, the way he’d light up when you texted... I don't know. I thought it was inevitable.”

“Well, it’s not.” The words prick your tongue like thorns. “We’re just friends.”

“Oh. Well, that’s still cool,” she offers, but her eyes have gone all soft. 

For a while, it’s quiet. She’s staring at you intently, chewing on her lip like she has more to say but needs to mash it down. But you really just want to grab Taehyung’s stupid vegetable broth and get the fuck out of here. 

“It was great to see you, Hana. I need to go and—”

“[Y/N], wait.” She latches onto your arm before you get a chance to escape. 

You stare at her, wide-eyed, heart racing, mouth dry. 

“I probably shouldn't be telling you this. Maybe it should be him, I don’t fucking know," she says, rolling her eyes. "But clearly he hasn’t grown the balls yet. Well, that, or his peanut brain hasn’t pieced it together. But I’m gonna tell you anyway.”

Your hands grip the cart handle. “Tell me what?”

There’s a long pause, and you can feel her weighing her words. Until, finally, she admits, “Last Christmas, when we were under the mistletoe… when Jungkook kissed me.” She takes a deep breath. “He was looking at you.”

Your first reaction is to laugh. Which you do, actually, loud enough to bounce off the cans of corn on the shelves. At the sound, Hana raises an eyebrow. 

“What are you talking about?” you giggle. “No, he wasn’t.”

She’s watching you now with something that resembles pity.

“We were under the mistletoe at your friend Jisoo’s apartment. Everyone was there, all your friends. And he kissed me, but…” Hana swallows thickly. “When we pulled apart, his eyes were open, and he wasn’t looking at me. He was looking across the room at you.”

You think you’re going to die in this godforsaken supermarket. 

“I didn’t say anything that night. I thought maybe I’d imagined it, but then it kept happening. He’d be with me, but he’d be watching you. Listening for you, waiting for you to text or call.” She laughs dryly, but you’re not sure either of you find this funny. “On New Years, I asked him about it. I asked him if he was in love with you.”

Bile rises up in your throat. You don’t even think you want to hear the rest of this. If she’s right, if it’s true, if you’ve missed this, if, if, if..

“What did he say, Hana?”

“Obviously, he lied and said no. He said you were just friends, and that I was being ridiculous. But then we broke up two weeks later. We both agreed we needed space, and I said that he wasn’t ready for something serious. And maybe that's true, maybe I was reading into things." She finally meets your eyes again. "But I don’t think I was.”

Last Christmas, you were so drunk on Jisoo’s eggnog that you hardly remember anything. You try to piece together the snippets of the night you have. There was dinner, which you scarfed down in under a millisecond. Then you all played pin the cock on the Santa (not suitable for kids, but luckily, baby Haewon only lived in Dahyun’s uterus at that point). You barely even remember the mistletoe portion of the night. That’s got to be some kind of trauma response to the stupid little leaf. 

“Why are you telling me this?” Your voice sounds far away, like it belongs to someone else.

“Because," Hana’s lips curve upwards into a soft smile, “I spent a year loving someone who was in love with someone else, and it sucked, but you know what sucks more? Watching two people who are meant to be together waste time pretending they’re not.” 

She reaches out and squeezes your arm. “I’m not bitter about it anymore. I’m happy now. I want him to be happy too. I think... I think he could be very happy with you.”

You want to argue. You want to tell her she’s wrong, that she’s misremembering, that she too was poisoned by Jisoo’s eggnog, that there's no way Jungkook feels that way about you.

But then you think about the box in his closet with your name on it. The teddy bear he kept. The way he’s been trying so hard to make you love Christmas again. The mistletoe he wanted to hang in your apartment.

No. It can’t fucking be. 

“I gotta go,” you say abruptly. 

“[Y/N]—”

But you’re already moving, abandoning your cart in the middle of the aisle, heart pounding so hard you can feel it in your throat. You make it to your car before the tears start again, but this time they’re different. This time, you don’t know if you’re crying because you’ve been in love with someone who doesn't love you back, or because you might've missed the entire thing completely. 

There’s not enough wine in this apartment, nor this world, that will get you through this Christmas party in one piece.

It feels like the world is moving around you but you’re just glued to your kitchen, gripping your glass of white wine so tightly you’re surprised the stem hasn’t snapped. Surprisingly enough, everyone arrived on time—even Namjoon and Dahyun, balancing poor baby Haewon on their hip, her tiny Santa hat slipping over one eye. There’s enough alcohol floating around to feed a bar, courtesy of Taehyung’s overenthusiastic mixology skills. 

It’s truly a splendid evening. A roaring success. Everything going exactly as planned. 

Except, there are two minor (major) insignificant, soul-crushing details that are fucking up your perfect evening: 

Hana’s words have been playing on loop in your brain all day. 

When Jungkook arrived, he looked at you for exactly 0.5 seconds, said absolutely nothing, and spent the last hour charming everyone else in the room.

Other than that, splendid evening. Gatsby would be seething with jealousy if he saw the kind of party you were throwing.

Jungkook had walked in, present in hand for Haewon (because he was her godfather and she practically got whatever she wanted when he was around), and he’d met your eyes before looking away. No smile. No “hey.” Not even a nod of acknowledgment. 

Naturally, since torturing you seems first on his agenda, he chooses this night to become the town jester. Jennie has been laughing at his jokes for what seems like ages, her hand on his arm, her head thrown back in delight. Taehyung keeps pulling him into conversations, clapping him on the shoulder. Even Dahyun, who normally has her hands full, is more entranced by Jungkook than her own daughter. 

Everyone loves Jungkook. Everyone always loves Jungkook.

Yet, he won’t even spare you a passing glance. 

It’s what you deserve, you know that, but your heart is cracking at the seams and your brain isn’t faring any better. 

You feel ill. Fucking ill.

Turning to the kitchen sink, you brace your hands on the counter. Breathe in. Breathe out. You’re fine. You just need to get through the next few hours without having a complete breakdown in front of all your friends.

“You alright?”

You jump, releasing an exhale when you see it’s just Jisoo. She’s holding a glass of red wine, matching with her burgundy turtleneck, eyebrow raised in that knowing way of hers that says she sees right through all your bullshit.

“Oh, yeah,” you reply. “Just taking a quick breather.”

“Mhm.” she eyes you up and down, leaning against the counter. “You’re basically hiding at your own party.”

“Could’ve sworn you did this last year at your Christmas party when your lasagna came out burnt,” you point out. 

Jisoo deadpans. “This isn’t about me. We’re talking about you.”

Damnit. You were hoping she would let it go.

“I’m just here making sure everything’s to perfection. Y’know, Taehyung with his… vegetarianism..”

Jisoo takes a slow sip of her wine, “You wanna try that again, or should I just cut to the part where you tell me what’s actually wrong?”

Your heart falls to your ass. Jisoo is the one friend on this planet who has consistently read you down to the bone. She’s going to see right through any lie you try to feed her, so you’re wondering if it’s even worth it. 

It’s worth one last shot. 

“Nothing’s wrong—”

“Bitch just tell me.”

You close your eyes and try to imagine a beach, somewhere tropical with waves kissing your ankles and sand that burns your feet. Try to imagine a world where you don’t have to answer Jisoo's question, where Hana never ambushed you in the grocery store yesterday, where your feelings for Jungkook stayed frozen at age nine, still innocent and within reach.

Unfortunately, when you open your eyes again, you’re at a Christmas party—your Christmas party, in your annoyingly red sweater—and Jisoo is staring at you expectantly. 

“I fucked up.”

Jisoo doesn’t look surprised in the slightest, which, okay. Rude. “With Jungkook?”

You raise an eyebrow. “How did you know that?”

“I mean, you’re not having a fight with any of the girls, or I would’ve heard an earful. That and he won’t glance in your direction and you look like you’re about to throw up. Doesn’t take Einstein.” She places her wine down. “What happened?”

Keeping it bottled up has never done you any favors, so you steady your voice and explain everything.  How you didn’t want to host the party in the first place because Christmas makes you miserable. How Jungkook kept pushing about the mistletoe. How you snapped at him, brought up Hana, threw his grief in his face. How he left and told you he needed space and you haven’t spoken since.

You probably could’ve told her more, but you don’t want to tell her about the mistletoe tradition. You don’t tell her about being in love with him for thirteen years. Those truths feel like just yours. 

When you finish, Jisoo is quiet for a long moment. Then, she sighs, levels you with a look, and says,  “That was a low blow.”

“I know.”

“Like, really bad.”

“I know.”

“He was just trying to help, and you basically told him he’s pathetic for not being over his ex.”

“I know, Jisoo. Trust me, I know.” You press the heels of your palms against your eyes. “I feel like shit about it.”

“Have you apologized?”

“He said he needed space. Hence why he won’t look at me.”

“I mean, space doesn’t mean you can’t say sorry.” She picks up her wine again. “Look, I get it. You were overwhelmed. The party planning, the decorations, whatever else is going on in that head of yours. But Jungkook didn’t deserve that”.

“I know he didn’t.” you reply, now having trouble controlling your voice. “I just... I don’t know how to fix this.”

“The word you’re looking for, my dear, is sorry,” she smiles sympathetically. 

You nod, even though the thought of approaching him right now makes you want to crawl into a hole. 

The party outside seems to pick up in volume, and through the crack in the doorway, you see Jungkook holding baby Haewon, cradling her carefully against his chest like she’s made of glass. He’s wearing a dark green sweater, the color of mistletoe, and his skin looks golden under the string lights he helped set up. He’s cooing at the baby, making ridiculous faces, and Haewon is giggling, her tiny hand reaching up to grab his nose.

Dahyun is standing next to him, saying something that makes him laugh, and the light sound carries over the music and chatter. It’s his real laugh, the one that crinkles his nose and shows all his teeth, the one you thought you only got to see. 

And suddenly you can picture it with perfect clarity: Jungkook, a few years from now, holding his own baby. His and someone else’s, some girl who isn’t you, who doesn’t have years of baggage and unspoken feelings weighing her down. Someone who can give him the uncomplicated love he deserves.

You didn’t even realize Jisoo was talking until you feel her hand on your arm. 

Blinking out of your daze, you snap back to the kitchen, to the party, to reality. “Sorry, what?”

But it’s too late—Jisoo isn’t looking at you anymore. She’s following your gaze to the dining room, to Jungkook and the baby, and understanding dawns across her face.

“Oh,” she says. 

Who knew a single syllable could carry so much weight?

“How long?” Jisoo questions.

“How long what?”

“Do not play dumb with me, missy. How long have you been in love with him?”

You’ve been tiptoeing around the truth for a long time. But you’re so tired of pretending, and the wine has loosened your tongue, and Jisoo is looking at you with such gentle understanding that the truth just spills out.

“Since I was a kid.”

Jisoo's eyes widen. “Jesus Christ, [Y/N].”

“Yeah,” is all you can offer.

“Does he know?” She lowers her voice, leans more into you like he might somehow hear across the room. 

“Absolutely not,” you retort. “He can’t, and he won’t. It would ruin our friendship.”

She opens her mouth to protest, to probably give you some grand speech on how love wins above all, but you hold your hand up to stop her. “I’m serious, Jisoo. You can’t tell him. Pinky promise me.”

She studies you for a long moment, and you can see her debating whether to push. Finally, she sighs and holds out her pinkie. “I promise. But for the record, I think you’re an idiot.”

“I get that a lot.”

From the dining room, you hear Jungkook laugh again, and it feels like someone’s wrapped barbed wire around your heart and pulled tight.

“You really should talk to him, though,” Jisoo repeats. “Like tonight, before it gets worse.” 

It’s already worse. 

“I can’t,” you disagree, taking a gulp of wine. “You saw him. The man won’t even look at me.”

“Because he’s pissed, not ‘cause he hates you.” She squeezes your arm. “This is Jungkook we’re talking about. Your Jungkook. He’s probably just as miserable as you are.”

The words your Jungkook make you shiver. He’s never actually been yours in any way that matters. But god, the way Jisoo says it makes you want to believe it. Makes you want to crawl inside those two words and live there, in a world where your Jungkook means he’s yours the way you’ve always been his. Completely, irrevocably, in every way a person can belong to another.

“I don’t know, he seems to be the fucking class clown tonight,” you mumble into your wine, and Jisoo snorts. 

“I promise you he’s waiting for you to make the first move. He said he needed space, but that doesn’t mean he wants the space. You know how he is—he’s a loverboy. Gets all up in his feelings and shit.”

You do know. You’ve known Jungkook long enough to recognize all his patterns.

Either way, you know just what to say to appease Jisoo. “Maybe later.”

“Later as in tonight, or later as in you’re going to avoid him until you two just forget about it and move on?” 

Yeah, exactly that. 

“We’ll see.”

Jisoo gives you a look that says she knows exactly what “we'll see” means in your vocabulary. “What’s your therapist’s name again? I want to give them a call.”

You hold up your middle finger. 

“It’s gonna be a loooong night,” she exhales a loud breath.

And truly, she must have magical powers or something, because it is nothing short of a treacherous evening for you. 

It all starts with Dahyun intercepting you, forcing you to hold Haewon. “Can you hold her for a sec? I need to use the bathroom and Joon’s three drinks deep trying to explain some conspiracy theory to Taehyung.” 

You’re halfway through your protest when she just plops Haewon into your arms. She settles against your chest with a little coo, her Santa hat askew. She smells like powder, milk, and Dahyun’s perfume. Her tiny fist curls into your sweater, and despite the trainwreck that is your life, you smile brightly. 

“Hi, pretty girl,” you murmur, adjusting her weight. “I bet you don’t know what it’s like to be in love with someone who doesn’t love you back. Because everyone loves you, since you’re perfect.”

Bouncing her gently, you two sway in place, and she makes a happy gurgling sound as if to say “yes, I know I’m perfect.” Someone has put on Nat King Cole, and the crooning voice of “The Christmas Song” fills your apartment with a nostalgic warmth you’ve been trying to avoid all month.

Haewon has the cutest little fingers and even tinier toes, and it amazes you how someone so utterly perfect could exit your friend Dahyun’s body. Before she met Namjoon, she was nothing short of a party girl, but now, her days are filled with Mommy & Me yoga classes and supermarket runs. 

It’s your dream life, you think. One that you would give anything to live with Jungkook. 

You’re so focused on this fantasy, the one you’ve conjured up in your head and dreams for years, that you don’t even realize Jungkook is blatantly staring at you. 

He’s standing near the drinks table, a bottle of beer frozen halfway to his lips. You meet his eyes, and it’s just you and Jungkook (and Haewon). 

Haewon squirms in your arms, breaking your gaze. You look down at her, adjusting her hat, heart hammering against your ribcage. When you look back up, Jungkook has turned away, saying something to Taehyung that you can’t hear over the blood whooshing in your ears.

But his knuckles are white around his beer bottle. 

Later on in the night, after you’ve tended to Taehyung’s vegetarian needs and listened to Jisoo rant about how clean eating relates to consumerism, you retreat to the kitchen under the guise of refilling the snack bowls. No one needs more chips—there are three unopened bags on the counter—but you need a moment of reprieve. 

You rip open a bag of pretzels, and a few go flying everywhere, but you manage to catch them in your hand. 

“Need any help?”

Your body goes rigid. You’re certain even your heart has stopped its beat. 

Jungkook is standing in the doorway, hands shoved in his pockets, looking anywhere but directly at you. The green sweater really is unfair. The golden undertone of his skin shimmers under your fluorescent light, makes his eyes look lustrous. 

“All good here,” you retort. “I’m just restocking.”

He makes a noise of acknowledgment, shuffling closer toward you. 

You pour pretzels into a bowl with more force than necessary, and several bounce onto the counter.

“The party’s a hit,” he offers. 

“Yeah. Everyone seems happy.” 

“The food’s really good too.”

“It was all Namjoon and Dahyun,” you snort. Your dream of getting food catered pretty much died immediately. Then you tried cracking open a recipe book and nearly fainted. 

This is excruciating. You’ve never done small talk with Jungkook. Never needed to. 

“Listen—”

“Jungkook,” you say in unison. 

Words cease to exist. You both stop. A dreadful, awkward silence fills the kitchen.

He clears his throat. “I want us to talk later after everyone leaves. If that’s okay with you?”

Where the idea of talking to him used to excite you, is now replaced by a pit in your stomach that won’t budge. 

Hana’s words crash back into your consciousness. He was looking at you.

But what if she was wrong? What if she saw something that wasn’t there because she was hurt and wanted an explanation that made sense? What if you let yourself hope and it destroys you?

“Maybe, Jungkook.”

Disappointment flashes across his face. He nods slowly. “Cool, yeah, uh, just let me know.”

He turns to leave, and you want to say more, want to stop him from leaving.

Your mind runs back to the grocery store, Hana’s words. 

You open your mouth—to say what, you don't know. Sorry. Wait. I need to tell you something.

“Jungkook.”

Jennie pokes her head into the kitchen, oblivious to everything. “There you are! Tae’s trying to make everyone play some weird drinking game. You have to come referee before I murder him.”

Jungkook looks back at you, a question in his eyes.

“Go ahead,” you smile. “I’ll join in a sec.”

He hesitates for just a second, then follows Jennie to the party.

By the time you make it back to the living room, Taehyung has indeed corralled everyone into some drinking game involving Christmas trivia. You slide into an empty spot on the couch next to Jisoo, who gives you a pointed look that you ignore. 

“Is this a joke?” you ask. 

“Tis not, Christmas hater,” Taehyung jokes. He explains the rules of the game, most of which you spend picking at your fingernails. The game begins with Jennie getting a question wrong about Rudolph and has to take a shot of tequila. Dahyun argues that her answer about Home Alone is technically correct. Jungkook keeps score attentively, tongue poking through his teeth. 

You're almost starting to relax when Namjoon, flushed from wine and dad-exhaustion, looks around your apartment with squinted eyes.

“Wait,” he says loud enough to make Taehyung’s and Jisoo’s current feud halt. “Where’s the mistletoe?” 

Last Christmas by Wham is blaring from your speakers, and you can hear traffic from the street below, but a barrage of red alerts blasts through your brain. 

Shit. 

Your throat goes dry.

“Yeah!” Dahyun laughs, adjusting Haewon on her lap. “Where is it? I thought mistletoe was like, mandatory at Christmas parties.”

“Maybe she forgot,” Jennie offers, and you could kiss her on the lips. 

“Feels like a crazy thing to forget,” Jisoo chimes in, and you shush her with a glare. 

“I didn’t forget.” You can feel Jungkook’s eyes on you, but you don’t look at him. “I just didn’t put one up.” 

“Why not?” Taehyung interrogates, crossing his arms over his chest. “It’s tradition.”

Tradition. That stupid fucking word. 

“It’s not really my thing.” You shrug. 

“Since when?” Jennie arches a brow. “In college, you made us all kiss under the mistletoe in Jihyo’s dorm.”

You were obliterated and desperately trying to create some scenario where kissing Jungkook would happen again, even as a joke. It hadn’t worked. He’d kissed Jisoo on the cheek and you’d kissed Namjoon and everyone had laughed and moved on and you’d gone home and cried into your pillow.

“I was drunk,” you argue. 

Jisoo is studying her drink intensely, and by the sheer force of mind reading, you beg her not to say something.

“I think it's nice,” Dahyun says, attempting to ease the awkwardness. “More elegant without it, you know? Like out of an Ikea catalogue!”

You throw her a grateful look. 

“It does save people from those awkward forced kisses with people they don’t want to kiss,” she adds, and multiple other people nod in agreement.

“Exactly! That’s exactly it.” You practically leap out of your seat. 

But you can still feel Jungkook looking at you. You chance a glance in his direction and immediately regret it. He’s not trying to hide his expression anymore. He looks visibly hurt, with his jaw tight and lips twitching. 

“Should we keep playing?” Jennie asks, and bless her for it.

“Yeah,” Taehyung shuffles his trivia cards. “Alright, next question is for Jungkook.”

The game resumes, clockwise around the room, but even then, neither you or Jungkook care about anything else but each other. 

Jungkook’s not sure when it happened.

There wasn’t a single moment, no dramatic revelation where the clouds parted and you were all grown up. It was more like watching a sunrise, so gradual that he didn’t even notice it was happening until the entire sky was painted in vivid bright colors. One day you were his best friend, the girl who knew all his secrets and laughed at his dumb jokes and fell asleep during movie nights with your head on his shoulder. Then, somewhere along the way, you became something more—flourished into a beautiful flower. 

He thinks it might have started in high school, when you showed up to junior prom in that light blue dress that complemented your eyes. Your mother spent thirty minutes poking and prodding at your dress, noting that you were ‘filling out nicely,’ and it had taken all of Jungkook’s might not to ogle at your growing chest. 

It could’ve also been in college, after you went through your first breakup and decided the proper next step was to cut your hair short, revealing the curve of your neck. He had stared for the better half of a week, and luckily, it went away once winter rolled around and you wore turtlenecks. 

It could have been last year, when you laughed so hard at one of his stories that you snorted wine out of your nose, and instead of being grossed out, he’d thought it was the most endearing thing he’d ever witnessed.

Maybe it’s always been there, lurking underneath your friendship. 

The thing is, Jungkook has always been sure he’s not in love with you. He’s never let himself think about it in those terms, never let the thought fully form before shoving it back down where it belongs. You are his best friend, have been since before he understood what friendship meant. You’re the person who knows him better than anyone, who’s seen him at his worst and somehow still shows up. You’re the constant in his life, the thing he’s never had to question.

But in the quiet of his own mind, he can acknowledge that you are utterly and thoroughly beautiful. 

You’re brilliant too, in ways that constantly surprise him even after knowing you for years. Sharp and funny and creative, with this ability to see people that makes everyone feel understood. You remember things, stupid little details about people’s lives that they mentioned once in passing. You’re the kind of person who makes playlists for your friends based on their moods. 

You made one for him last month. Called it ‘when koo is in his feelings.’ 

He listened to it on the way to the Christmas party.

And yeah, okay, maybe he thinks about you more than a best friend probably should. Like when he’s dating someone, there’s always this small part of his brain remembering things to tell you later, moments you’d find funny or interesting. Sometimes, he compares every girl he dates to you without meaning to… it’s just the way they laugh never quite measures up, their sense of humor is always slightly off, their understanding of him remains surface-level.

But that’s all normal friend stuff, he thinks. 

“Penny for your thoughts?” 

Namjoon sidles up beside Jungkook, hugging a beer bottle tight to his chest. It’s the first time he’s drank in a while, and Jungkook resists the urge to laugh at just how drunk he looks. 

Jungkook takes a long sip of his beer, watching you over the rim of the bottle. You’re laughing at something Jisoo said, but it doesn’t reach your eyes. “It’s nothing.”

“Shut up.”  Namjoon leans against the wall for stability. “Tell me what’s up.”

“Nothing’s up.”

“Shouldn’t you be out there, making my wife laugh harder than I have?” 

Jungkook rolls his eyes. “I’m tired.”

“You have the energy of a bunny, so I doubt that,” Namjoon snickers. “C’mon, fess up. I never get involved with drama anymore after Haewon. Enlighten me.”

Jungkook considers deflecting again, but what's the point? Namjoon's going to stand here until he cracks. “We got in a fight. Me and [Y/N].”

“Oh shit, for real?” When Jungkook meekly nods, Namjoon takes another swig of beer. “What about?”

“I wanted to hang up a mistletoe for the party and she said no.” God, saying it out loud seems so stupid. “I pushed it and then she…”

“She what?” 

“She said some mean things, then I said some things. It got messy.”

“This sounds kinda dumb,” Namjoon jokes, and Jungkook levels him with a piercing glare. He knows it’s dumb, knows this whole thing is stupid, but he can;t shake the feeling that there’s something unresolved lingering underneath. “You’ll be fine.”

“Yeah.”

“That was not a confident yeah.”

“I mean, I told her we should talk after the party. She said maybe,” Jungkook laughs dryly. “Chances of us talking are looking pretty low right now.”

“Dude,” Namjoon exhales a breath. “She’s not going to stay away from you. That girl loves you.”

“I don’t know…”

“You know where she lives. You have a key, for god’s sake.”

Jungkook does have a key. In his defense, you have one to his place too. It’s never not been a thing—you’ve been trading apartment keys since college, back when you lived in that shitty studio with the broken heater and he needed to water your plants when you went home for your mom’s birthday.

“I think she really wants space this time, though,” he frowns. He doesn’t like the idea of it, but it’s part of his fault you’re even in this predicament right now. 

“You guys are idiots.” Namjoon stares at him. “Why do you look so sad about this? It’s just a little fight, right?”

Jungkook opens his mouth to agree, but he chokes on the words forming in his throat. His eyes find you across the room again. You’re holding Haewon, swaying gently, and the baby's grabbing at your hair with her tiny fists. You smile down at her, and even from here, he can see the softness in your expression, and how you’ve adjusted your hold to support her head.

He doesn’t really know why, but his heart seizes.

“Yeah. I think so.”

Namjoon hums. “It’s not like, …anything more, right?”

Jungkook furrows his brows, tearing his gaze away from you. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Y’know what I mean…” Namjoon starts doing some weird vague gestures with his hand, and Jungkook’s beer-soaked brain struggles to keep up. “It’s not like that with you two?”

Oh. 

“No, no. It’s not like that with us,” Jungkook denies quickly, almost too quickly. He knows it’s not impractical for someone to suggest. Ever since he was a young boy, he’s been curbing questions regarding your relationship status. It never annoyed him; in fact, it filled him with pride knowing people thought he was worthy of what sunshine you had to offer. “She’s my best friend.”

“Could’ve fooled me.”

“Excuse me?”

Jungkook’s chest feels tight. 

But Namjoon doesn’t note the way his face goes pale, or the way his fingers flex around his bottle. He continues on, “Bro, I’m not trying to start anything. But I’ve known you since college, and I’ve watched you do this thing where you date someone, it gets serious, and then somehow it always ends. And you know what the common denominator is?”

He really doesn’t want Namjoon to say anymore. Doesn’t want him to vocalize what might actually be true, but has been something Jungkook has been mashing down for decades of his life. Naked, unmistakable fear courses through him. 

“Her.” Namjoon points with his beer bottle. “Every single time, you come back to her. You text her more than your girlfriend, or you cancel dates if she needs you. You measure everyone against her without even realizing you’re doing it.”

Jungkook can’t speak, because it’s true. He knows it’s true. He’s done it countless times, like when it was he and Sana’s one-year anniversary, but you had the flu, so he dropped everything to take care of you. Or when Chaeyoung got upset with him because he had responded to your text before even giving hers a second glance. 

He can’t help it. 

“You’ve been dragging her through your relationships for years,” Namjoon says, “At some point, you need to ask yourself why you keep coming back to her.”

“But she’s my best friend!” Jungkook protests petulantly. “We always show up for each other.”

“Yeah, but do best friends look at each other the way you’re looking at her right now?’

Jungkook hadn’t even realized he’d been staring again. You’ve handed Haewon back to Dahyun and you’re laughing at something, a hand flying up to cover your mouth in that way you do when you think your laugh is too loud. It’s not, Jungkook thinks, It’s never too loud.

“What do you want me to say?” Jungkook mumbles, averting his eyes to his scuffed-up shoes. 

“I feel like you should just be honest with yourself, Kook.” Namjoon claps him on the shoulder. “I’m willing to bet money on the fact that your fight wasn’t really about the mistletoe.”

“I don’t think so,” Jungkook scoffs. He hopes he looks nonchalant, but his hands are trembling.

Namjoon doesn’t utter another word, and for a moment, Jungkook thinks it’s over. Namjoon will let it go and they’ll move on. He shifts weight onto his other foot, taking a swig from his beer.

“Jungkook.”  Fuck, if the way Namjoon’s looking at him right now is any indication of what’s to come, he’s so fucked. “You know she’s in love with you, right?”

It’s out in the open, and he can’t believe Namjoon just said it, doesn’t know where he even got that idea, but he does know that it must be the truth. It has to be, because he would never suggest otherwise. And the notion should be earth-shattering, world-tilting, but it’s not. 

Maybe Jungkook knew this whole time. 

“No-No, she’s not—we’re not—”

But the more he ruminates on it, he realizes: you can’t be. You’ve never—there’s never been any indication—you’ve never said anything or done anything or—

In all the years he’s known you, you’ve never dated someone seriously. Like living together, talk of engagement. Sure, there were a few guys here and there in college, but nothing that stuck. Nothing that lasted more than a month or two. He’d always figured you were just picky, focused on your career, not interested in settling down.

Was there more to that? Jungkook’s heart jolts in his chest. 

Oh god. Oh fuck.

How long? How long have you been carrying this? Since you were kids? Since high school? College? How many years has he been obliviously parading girlfriends in front of you, kissing them under mistletoe, talking about his relationships, asking for your advice about girls who weren’t you?

His hands are shaking. He sets his beer down on the nearest surface before he drops it.

“I think, maybe, you’ve always known.” Namjoon’s voice sounds like it’s coming from far away. 

All those times he came back to you after dates that didn’t go well. All those nights you stayed up listening to him talk about his problems with whatever girl he was seeing. All those moments he chose you over them without even thinking about it because being with you was easy and comfortable and right in a way nothing else ever was.

He can never remember half of those girls’ names. Can’t remember what he saw in them or why he thought any of them were worth it. 

But he remembers every Christmas with you.

He remembers all of it. 

Jungkook looks up, searching for you in the crowd, and finds you emerging from the kitchen with Jisoo. 

Panic claws up his throat. “But she’s never said anything—like, we never—”

“If I were her, I wouldn’t say anything.” Namjoon shrugs. 

Jungkook feels like he can't breathe. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. You’re just—you’re guessing—”

“I am assuming, but I know enough. Dahyun has me watching a ton of kdramas, so I know when someone’s pining.”

His credentials are questionable. 

“That's—” Jungkook runs a hand through his hair, tugging hard enough to hurt. “Fuck. Why wouldn’t she tell me?”

“Probably because you introduce her to new girlfriends everyday.” Namjoon’s words are blunt, but his expression is sympathetic. “Think about it. When has she ever had the space to tell you?”

Never. The answer is never. Because he’s always been with someone or getting over someone or talking about someone, and even when he wasn’t, he was busy treating your friendship like it was sacred. 

Jungkook was so busy protecting what you had that he never stopped to think about what you could be. 

“I didn’t know,” Jungkook admits weakly. 

“It’s fine. You do now.” Namjoon takes a massive gulp of his beer, placing the empty bottle on the nearby table. “By the way, why did you care so much if she hosted? Why did it matter if it was at her place? You knew Dahyun and I didn’t mind.”

Jungkook’s guilt wraps around him like a hug. He does feel guilty about lying, he truly does, but he doesn’t have a good answer. Namjoon’s place would have worked fine, baby or not. Jisoo’s apartment was an option despite Taehyung's dog allergy. They could have figured something out.

But he had told everyone secretly that you needed to host this year. 

For a long, long moment, Jungkook is silent. He pushes through the fear, the nerves, the voices in his head telling him otherwise. He tells Namjoon, “Because Christmas is ours.”

To no one’s surprise, Namjoon and Dahyun are the first to make their exit. Haewon is already fast asleep on her father’s shoulder, snoring peacefully. Then Jisoo leaves, who gives you a long, meaningful look and a whisper of “text me later” that you have no intention of following through on. Taehyung and Jennie linger for a little before they realize they have more pressing matters to attend to (read: their new vibrator they ordered).

You’re certain Jungkook slipped out sometime in the middle of the exodus. You don’t see him leave, but you hear the door close a final time and feel the absence of him.

Wonderful. You can clean up in peace and spend the rest of the night spiraling about Hana’s words, the talk you never had with Jungkook, and how quickly you’ll be able to move countries and change names.

You’re elbow-deep in soapy water, scrubbing at a wine glass aggressively, when you hear footsteps behind you.

What the fuck. Did you leave your door unlocked?

It’s definitely Taehyung. With a gulp, you crane your neck to see behind the doorway. 

And then you scream. 

You drop the glass into the sink, whirling around with your wet hands up like you’re going to fight off an intruder with dish soap.

Jungkook jumps, hands flying up in surrender. “Oh my god, sorry! Sorry, sorry, I’m sorry—”

“Fucking hell, Jungkook!” Your heart tries to escape from your body. “I thought you left!”

“I was in the bathroom.” His eyes are wide, looking genuinely distressed at having scared you. “I didn’t mean to—I thought you knew I was still here?”

Soap suds drip down your arms. He’s pressed against your bookshelf, trying to camouflage into your books. It’s ridiculous, but it’s so like you both that it makes you giggle. 

It’s a soft one, but he notices it and snorts in response. And then you two erupt into endless laughter, your heart soaring at the familiar sound of his timbre. His chest shakes with each laugh, and tears fall from your eyes.

But after a few seconds, the laughter finally fades, and you two stand there, sizing the other up. 

“What are you still doing here?” you ask, reaching for a dish towel to dry your hands. 

“I wanted to see if you were open to talking.”

You turn off the running water, pivoting to face him fully.

“I am.”

He takes a deep breath, swallowing thickly. Jungkook does this thing where his tongue presses against the inside of his cheek when he’s struggling to find the right words. You’ve seen him do it countless times.

His tongue pokes the inside of his cheek.

“I’m sorry.” Jungkook says. “About the fight…about pushing you to host…and the, uh, the mistletoe thing.” He runs his fingers through his hair. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. I just—Christmas has always been our thing since we were kids. It was always ours, and I don’t know… I guess I didn’t want that to change.” 

With him, things are always stagnant. They’re stable, trustworthy, and you know they’ll always be there. You’re not sure where his childlike wonder went—all those times he would drag you to unknown places to explore, or made you try new foods even if you knew you’d hate it. 

But maybe you’re not worth the risk for him. 

“Me neither,” you agree quietly. 

You swivel back to face the sink, tears brimming your eyes. Reaching for another glass, you flick on the water, dousing your hands in soap. The water is frigid but you plunge your hands in anyway. 

“Hey,” comes Jungkook’s calm voice. 

You keep scrubbing. 

“Hey.”

His fingers wrap around your arm, and you let out a sigh. 

“That’s it? That’s all?” 

You can’t look at him. If you look at him, you’ll break. “What else do you want me to say? I forgive you? I do. Jungkook, this is stupid.”

“I don’t know. Something. Anything.” His hand lingers on your bare skin. “Don’t shut me out. We had one fight and for some reason, it feels like I’m losing you and I don’t—” He stops, takes a breath. “Talk to me.”

There’s so much you could say. You could tell him about the mistletoe tradition and how it’s haunted you. You could tell him about watching him fall in love over and over with people who aren’t you. You could tell him about Hana and the grocery store and how you haven’t been able to think about anything else since.

But most importantly, you could tell him the truth: you’ve been in love with him since you were a child, and every Christmas since you were 15 years old felt like getting stabbed repeatedly.

Jungkook’s eyes are red-rimmed, lips quivering. He’s still tethered to your arm, unable to let go as if you’ll disappear. You’re disgustingly terrified of this moment, not of losing him, but because he’s never even been yours to lose. Everything could change. You could say the words and watch your friendship shatter. You could tell the truth and have him look at you with pity, or worse, he’ll look at you and apologize, say he doesn’t feel the same towards you. 

What if what you need to move on isn’t to ignore it, but accept the rejection?

You can do that, you think. 

You swallow, “Jungkook—”

“Please,” he pleads, “I can’t fix it if I don’t know what’s wrong.”

You finally turn to face him, and his hand slides down from your arm but doesn’t let go completely. His fingers catch yours, wet and soapy as they are, and hold on.

“I don’t even know where to begin,” you admit. 

“Start anywhere.” His thumb brushes against your knuckles, and you don’t even think he realizes he’s doing it. “Maybe… start with why you don’t like Christmas anymore.”

That’s the question, isn’t it? That’s the thread that, if pulled, will unravel everything.

“Do you… remember our mistletoe tradition?”

He furrows his brows. You had just reminisced on it a few days ago, but somehow it feels like a lifetime. “Of course.”

“Do you remember when it all started?”

He looks at you like you’re an apparition. “Yeah.”

“We were just kids… but you kissed my cheek and I thought it was the most magical thing in the world. We did it every year, every year until you finally kissed me on the lips.”

Jungkook inhales audibly, nods once, and squeezes your hands tighter. 

“It became my favorite day of the year,” you continue, and you sound out of breath. “It wasn’t because of the presents, or the food, or Santa. It was those three seconds under the mistletoe with you. I lived for it. Counted down the days to it. And when we were 15, you got your first girlfriend.”

Understanding starts to dawn on his face, and it’s almost worse than if he didn’t get it.

“You kissed her under the mistletoe that year.” You swallow back the sob that climbs up your throat. “I watched and I stood there and you gave her this real kiss, this romantic kiss, and I realized that all those years… they were just a game to you. A tradition.”

He opens his mouth, most likely to object, but you speak over him. 

“It just kept happening. There was always someone there, someone who wasn’t me. I smiled and pretended I was happy for you while I was watching you fall in love with people who… who…” Now or never, you think. “....who got to have what I wanted.”

Tears begin to blur your vision, muddling Jungkook’s features. 

“I’ve been in love with you for god knows how long, Jungkook. And every Christmas since I was 15 is just a constant, giant, unavoidable reminder that you don’t love me the way I love you.”

The tears are falling freely, hot and fast, painting your cheeks. 

“That’s why I didn’t want to host. That’s why I didn’t want the mistletoe. Because I can’t—” Your voice breaks. “I can’t watch you kiss someone else under it again. I can’t do it anymore. It’s killing me.”

You remove your hands from his, wiping furiously away at the wetness on your face. When you blink, you notice Jungkook’s also crying. Cheeks ruddy and chest heaving, lips trembling. “[Y/N]. I-I… how come you never said anything?”

“You’re my best friend, Koo.” You wrap your arms around yourself, self-soothing the ache that’s built in your chest. “If you don’t love me like that, I completely understand. I do. You’ve never given me any indication that you feel the same way and that’s okay, that’s fine, I’ll get over it eventually—”

Jungkook’s face falls, softening. “[Y/N]-”

“I don’t want to lose you. I can’t. You’re the most important person in my life and if telling you this means you’re going to look at me differently or feel weird around me or—”

“Stop.” he firmly says, and his hands come up to cup your face. His thumbs wipe at your tears and you know you look like a wreck, but he’s looking at you as though you were sent from the heavens above. “Just stop for a second.”

You hiccup, trying to catch your breath. 

“Can we stand in the doorway?” he asks. 

You deadpan. “What?” 

“The doorway,” he repeats like that’s supposed to clarify anything for you. He takes one of your hands in his, peeling you away from the counter. “Can we stand in the doorway?”

“I–what? Why?” 

You blindly follow him, like you always do. Let him lead you out of your kitchen. Your living room is a mess—empty glasses and crumpled napkins, remnants of your Christmas party.

Jungkook positions you in the doorway between your living room and hallway. His green sweater brings out his sparkling eyes, and your heart flutters in your chest. 

“Jungkook, can you just reject me quickly so we can move on—”

“Look up.” He smiles. 

With shaky breath, you crane your neck. 

Hanging from your doorway is a mistletoe. There’s a red ribbon tied around it, dangling back and forth to the tune of your oscillating fan. 

You snort out a snot bubble, but neither you nor him seem to care too much. “When did that even get there?”

“Well, I had to wait till the end of the night,” he remarks sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck that iss now flushed crimson. “I thought you might rip my dick off or something if I did it earlier.”

You sink your fingernails into your palms to keep yourself grounded, to keep yourself from leaping paces ahead. Behind your ribcage, your heart stumbles. 

He’s the first to laugh—it’s wet and graceless, body shaking in tandem. You’re laughing too, but also crying. 

Your heart soars like it’s trying to escape your chest and fly around the room. 

Jungkook settles down, and something softer crosses his expression. When he speaks next, his voice is steady, sure of himself. 

“You think I don’t feel the same way?” His voice breaks. “You think—Jesus Christ, [Y/N], you’re all I think about. You’re all I ever thought about.”

“Really?” you whisper, voice so feeble you think he can’t possibly have heard it. 

But he nods. 

“I wake up, and the first thing I do is check my phone to see if you’ve texted me. I go through my entire day remembering things to tell you later—stupid shit, important shit, all the stuff in between. When something good happens, you’re the first person I want to tell. When something bad happens, you'’re the only person I want to see.” He wipes a stray tear that’s made its way down his cheek. “You’re the first person I think of when I wake up and the last person I think of before I fall asleep, and most nights I dream about you too.”

“You…” you trail off, shake your head. There’s no words to describe how you feel, no proper sentence to show how your entire body feels like it’s on fire. 

“Let me say this because I should have said it years ago. A decade ago. I should have said it every single Christmas instead of being with people who weren’t you and pretending that was enough.”

Jungkook takes a step forward. His scent envelops you, makes you feel at home. Like you’re six years old again and anything is possible. 

“I kissed you under that mistletoe when we were kids because if anyone was going to be my first kiss, it was going to be you. I didn’t even really understand what kissing meant. But I knew I wanted it to be you.”

He lets out a breathy, quiet laugh. And it feels like you’re kids again, standing under the mistletoe, pulling into each other like magnets. 

“I kept doing it every year because—because those three seconds were mine. They were ours. It didn’t matter that I was too young to understand what it meant or why it made my stomach feel weird or why I’d think about it for weeks afterwards. I just knew that kissing you under the mistletoe was the best part of Christmas… the best part of my whole year.”

“You know, I was never able to understand why my relationships never seemed to work. Why no one ever wanted to stay with me for the long run. And it took me a long time, but I’ve got it all figured out now.” He has to stop to clear his throat, and it’s then, and only then, that you see the tears glistening in his eyes again. “I think… I think I’ve been looking for pieces of you in every girl I meet.”  

Your feet remain frozen to your floor. If you pinch yourself, you’ll wake up from this dream, and you want to live in it as long as life will allow. 

“I’d find a girl who had your hair color, or a similar sense of humor, or the way you scrunch your nose when you’re thinking, and I’d think ‘this is it, this is the one.’ But it never was, because they weren’t you,” he says. “I would be on dates, and think about what you’d say about the restaurant, or the movie, or the conversation. I could be kissing someone and wonder why it didn’t feel the way it felt when I kissed you when we were children.”

He takes another step, hardwood floor creaking beneath his weight. 

He’s so close you can almost taste his woodsy scent. 

“I’m a coward, [Y/N]. I kept dating people, kept trying to make it work with someone else, because I thought if I could just find the right person, I’d stop being in love with you.”

“Koo,” is all you can manage.

“But there is no right person for me. There’s just you, there’s only ever been you. You’re not a piece of the puzzle, [Y/N]. You are the whole fucking puzzle. Every piece, every corner, every goddamn edge. And I’ve been trying to force other pieces to fit for years, but they don’t. They can’t.” His tears are moving faster than he can stop them, and he lets them pour out of his eyes onto his sweater. 

“The only reason I stopped kissing you under the mistletoe was because I was falling in love with you.” He’s grinning through his tears. The kind of grin you’ve been the only person to extract out of him. “I was a stupid kid who was falling in love with their best friend and the first thought I had was: what if you didn’t feel the same way? What if I told you and you laughed in my face? And I know I’m stupid, but I stopped because I needed to tell myself I was over it, that it was a phase, that we were just friends.”

Jungkook takes one final step forward until you’re practically nose-to-nose. 

His voice is no higher than a whisper. “I never got over it, though. I never stopped loving you.”

Your head is spinning. Jeon Jungkook. Your best friend, your platonic soulmate, your everything…

“You… you love me?”

“I love you so fucking much,” he confirms. “I love the way you sing off-key during all our car rides together, and the way you cry during commercials with pets. The way you remember everyone’s birthdays, even if they don’t remember yours. I love how you scrunch your nose when you’re concentrating and how you chew your lip when you’re nervous. I love your terrible jokes and your beautiful laugh and how magical everything suddenly feels when you’re around.”

Inevitably, you’re sobbing too. Not in a pretty way, but you don’t think it matters anymore. Nothing matters but this. 

“I love that I was lucky enough to be born the same day as you, that the universe knew before we knew that there was no me without you. I love that I know everything about you—your favorite color, your biggest fears, how you like your tea. I love that you know me better than anyone else in the world.” 

His hands go to cup your face. “So, yeah, I do love you. And I know I wasted time, but I am telling you now with utmost certainty. If you'll let me, I want to make up for all the time I wasted being too scared to love you the way you deserve.”

Your hands come up to cover his, pressing them harder against your face. 

“I want you to be mine and I want to be yours, in every way possible, [Y/N].”

And you really, really need to stop crying, but it’s impossible. They well up, like all those emotions you’ve been mashing down for decades, ballooning into something too large for your body to handle. 

“Those are happy tears… right?” he chuckles. 

“Yes,” you sob. God, he’s never going to let you live this down. “I love you. I love you so much—”

“I love you too.” He kisses your forehead, cheeks, the tip of your nose. “I love you, I love you, I love you. I'm going to make sure you never doubt that again.”

You laugh, a watery bubbling sound. 

You look up at the mistletoe hanging between you two. It’s a small piece of plastic and ribbon, but somehow it represents years of longing and heartbreak and fear that just needed time to blossom into something ethereal.

“You still remember the tradition?” Jungkook tucks a stand of hair behind your ear. 

You couldn’t forget even if you tried. “When you’re under the mistletoe…”

“You must kiss the person you’re with,” he finishes. 

His thumbs linger over your cheekbones, gazing into your eyes. They’re still the same from when he was little. Wide-eyed, full of childlike wonder and innocence. His pupils are blown. 

“Can I kiss you?” 

You stupidly smile. You nod just as he gets the last syllable out. Nodding so hard and so frantically it’s almost manic, tears streaming down your face, your hands coming up to grip the collar of his green sweater—that goddamn green sweater the color of mistletoe.

“Yes,” you breathe, “Yes, please, yes—”

He kisses you. 

And oh.

Oh. 

You hold your breath, counting the seconds in your head. It’s longer than three seconds and two milliseconds. 

Your knees buckle under the weight of his kiss, with his hands cradling your face gently. Your fingers twist tighter in his collar, pulling him closer, closer, never close enough.

The salt of both your tears mixes on your lips, can feel the way his breath stumbles against your mouth. One of his hands slides into your hair, angling your head just so, and you make a sound you didn’t know you were capable of making. You’re pliable in his arms. 

His tongue outlines your bottom lip, and you grant him access immediately, needing to feel more of him, any part you can grasp to know this is real. You’re both still crying—you can feel fresh tears sliding down your cheeks—but you’re also smiling, laughing into the kiss like idiots because this is insane.

Jungkook’s tattooed hands slide down to your waist, pulling you close to him until there’s not an inch to spare between your bodies. Your apartment, the mess of cups and plates scattered around, the snazzy Christmas decorations you’ll throw away tomorrow—it all fades away until there’s just this. Just him.

“I love you,” he murmurs against your mouth, and then he’s kissing you again before you can say it back. “Love you so much, I’m a fucking loser, I—”

“Shut up,” you giggle. “Shut up and kiss me.”

You don’t know how long you stand there, kissing under the mistletoe like teenagers who just discovered what kissing is. It could be seconds or hours—time feels irrelevant when his mouth is on yours, when his hands are holding you.

At some point, you know it’s not enough. You want more. 

Finally, you think to yourself. 

You’ve never wanted someone this bad. Never craved someone’s brain, heart, and soul like this. 

He’s possibly thinking the same thing as you, and if the way he holds you is any indication, you’re the luckiest girl in the world. His hands travel over your waist, until they reach your thighs. In one smooth motion, he picks you up, and your legs wrap around his waist instinctively.

Jungkook is stronger than you though, even though you know he goes to the gym everyday, even though you’ve watched him rearrange the furniture in your apartment on a random Tuesday after work. But feeling him hold you up effortlessly while kissing… your panties might drop before you even reach the bedroom. 

You kiss him as he tries to navigate with his eyes closed, stumbling slightly down the hallway, both of you giggling between kisses like drunk teenagers. He nearly crashes into the wall, overcorrecting and spinning you both around.

“Smooth operator, hm?” you tease. 

“Shut up,” he mumbles. “I swear to god you switched where your bedroom was.” And then he’s kissing you again, and you forget about his horrible navigation skills. 

Miraculously, you make it to your bedroom. Lays you down on your bed, following you down until he’s hovering over you, weight balanced on his forearms on either side of your head. The lamp on your nightstand casts soft shadows across his features. He chews his lip anxiously. 

“Do you, um—” He stops, tries again. “Do you wanna maybe—”

You can’t help but giggle. Your hand comes up to cover your mouth when you see the way his face falls. “Koo. I know you’re not a virgin.”

“Oh my god.” He drops his forehead to your neck with a groan, and his face is burning hot against your skin. “I know. I know I’m not. But it’s you, it’s so different. I’m nervous.”

Jungkook is experienced—far more than you, that’s for certain. You were never bothered by the difference. You had lost your virginity solely as a means to an end, to just say you did the damn thing so you weren’t a complete and total loser. But Jungkook has plenty of notches on his belt, and your heart melts at the thought of you being the one to dismantle him completely. 

You slide your fingers into his hair, tugging until he lifts his head to look at you. His eyes are dark and vulnerable, full of love it makes you want to cry all over again.

“Hey. It’s just me, Koo.”

“Well, that’s kinda the problem,” he gruffs, playing with the necklace around your neck. “It is you. It matters a lot.”

“It matters to me too,” you rush to agree, cup his face with both hands, thumbs brushing over his scarlet cheeks. “We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do. We can just—we can just lie here. We can talk. We can—”

He kisses you, cutting off your rambling. Slower, assured. “I want to. I really, really want to. I just… I want it to be good for you.”

Your fingers trace the constellation of moles on his face, and there’s just so much of him you want to uncover, so much golden skin and muscle. “It will be.”

This time, when his lips meet yours, he relaxes into it, earlier nervousness melting away. Your hands slide up under his sweater, feeling the bare skin, the sculpted abdomen you’ve sparingly seen. Your fingers find the hair at the nape of his neck, playing with the soft strands there, and he makes a sound—half-sigh, half-groan—that strikes straight through you. His hips shift slightly, pressing against yours, and now it’s your turn to gasp into his mouth.

“Still nervous?” you mutter. 

“A little,” he says through a moan as you roll your hips to press against his growing length. “What if you think I-I’m, fuck, bad in bed?”

“You won’t be.” You kiss down his sharp jawline, down the vein that protrudes from the side of his neck. 

“You don’t know that. I could be really bad at this.”

You laugh, tugging him closer, wrapping your legs around his waist. “Jungkook, you’re not going to be bad at sex.”

He nuzzles into your neck, inhaling the scent of gingerbread cookies that still lingers on you even after hours of burning them. “But what if I am?”

“Koo. I love you. I wouldn’t care even if your dick was 2 inches.”

He lifts his head from your neck. “Okay, don’t push it.”

Jungkook kisses you, warm tongue swiping against your bottom lip. His calloused hands slide up your red sweater, feeling the black lace bra underneath. His breath stutters at the realization, fondling your breasts in the way he’s always dreamed of. 

Messily, hungrily, your sweater comes off first, then his, a tangle of fabric and laughter as he fumbles with the back of your bra. Jungkook apologizes against your lips, but you don’t care in the slightest, just want more and more and more. He flings your bra across your bedroom, greedily taking your nipple into his mouth, sucking the hardened nub. And you’re so wet, can feel it pooling in your panties, soaking through the fabric. Every roll of his hips, every flick of his tongue sends shocks of lightning through you. 

“So fucking pretty,” Jungkook groans, readjusting your body higher on the bed until your head reaches the pillow. He unclasps your legs from around his waist, making room for himself to wiggle down in between them.

You can’t stop the familiar swell of nerves racing through your body, even as he kisses down the valley of your breasts, down to your stomach, past your navel. His lips hover over the button of your jeans, delicately undoing. Taking his time as though not to miss a single moment. 

You weirdly get the urge to cover yourself, to hide under the strength of his burning gaze. What if he compares me to all the other girls? you think. What if I’m not as beautiful as Sana or Eunji or Hana?

And then Jungkook says, “You’re so beautiful, baby. Most beautiful girl I’ve ever known.”

Tears threaten to appear again. 

He tugs your jeans off, his hair tickling your inner thigh as he goes. His lips follow, pressing chaste kisses along your naked skin. The mattress dips as he adjusts himself, wraps his arms around your thighs and tugs your clothed, soaking cunt to his face. You gasp, your walls clenching around nothing. “Relax, baby,” Jungkook bites your inner thigh, soothing it with his tongue. “Gonna take care of you.”

“Please,” you beg, and you don’t even know what you’re begging for, but when you meet his eyes you know exactly what. More of him, more of his mouth, his tongue, his lips. 

He pushes your panties to the side, and without preamble, you’re spreading your legs further.

Immediately, Jungkook’s eyes go to what lies between them. 

“So wet, baby,” He lets his pointer finger gather your arousal. “You always get this wet for your best friend?”

You gasp, eyes trained on his. His voice has gone husky, eyes hooded and dark. He presses into your sensitive nub, and you jolt forward, hands tightly gripping the sheets underneath. “Answer me.”

“Y-yes, Koo. Always wet for you, just for you.”

That seems to be enough for him. He leans forward, dragging your underwear down your legs until they’re no longer his concern, and then his mouth is on you. 

“Fuck!” You practically scream, body lurching forward, humming violently underneath him. It’s been a while—maybe more than a while, possibly years—since you’ve had someone willingly eat you out, and by the way Jungkook does so, he seems enthralled to get a chance to enjoy the taste of you. His tongue strokes through your folds, wet and wide, working its own rhythm that has you withering underneath his grasp. His hands press into your hip bones, stabilizing your movements. He buries his whole face in it, lets himself soak up every last bit of arousal you’ve produced. Two minutes of this and you’ll be a goner, but you don’t want this to end, not now, not ever. 

“Tastes so sweet, baby,” Jungkook moans into your wetness, licking a long stripe from your hole up to your clit. “Been hiding this from me, hm?”

“I-It’s yours, Koo. Always has been,” You squeeze your eyes as tight as you can, stars blooming in your vision. He taps your thigh, and you know he wants you to look at him, but you can hardly breathe or think or speak. 

He wraps his lips around your clit and sucks, and your fingers fly to his unkempt hair, tugging and pulling until you’re certain it’ll come off his scalp. Without warning, he pushes one finger into you, testing you. He watches as you keen, profanities falling off your lips. Jungkook’s finger crooks into you at an angle you thought only you could reach, and you’re putty in his unrelenting hands. “Fuck—oh my god, yes, right there Koo, oh, yes—”

“Feel good, baby?” He gathers his saliva, spitting onto your clit and letting it drip down to his fingers, a second digit entering you. “Talk to me.”

He’s gentle about it, tentative, as though he’s trying to learn you, teach himself the new side of you he’s unlocked. 

“M-more,” you keen. “Faster, please.”

And he’s so willing, so ready. It’s so wet, unlike anything that happens when you touch yourself. His tongue and fingers fuck you through it, squelching sounds echoing against the thin walls of your bedroom, sweat slicking down the valley of your breasts. You feel your walls clench around him once, twice, and your legs tremble in his hold. You can feel it dripping down your inner thigh, onto your sheets, onto his chin. 

“So tight around my fingers,” he groans, and you watch as his other hand travels down to his belt buckle, furiously trying to undo it. “So hard just thinking about bein’ inside you.”

“I-I want that,” you reply breathlessly. “I want you inside me.”

“Fuck,” he grunts, working his nimble fingers quicker, tongue vacuum-sealed around your clit, milking you entirely. “I want to feel you cum for me. I want to taste it.”

You nod, bunching your bedsheets into little fists of agony. When you look up, you can see Jungkook’s hair spread across your lower stomach, tattooed biceps straining. His free hand strokes his cock, and a swarm of butterflies release in your stomach at the sight. You’ve made him so desperate that he has to touch himself. You have. 

And the sight is just too much for you to handle. “Aghh–Koo, fuck, I’m gonna—I’m gonna cum.”

He doesn’t say anything, just lets his tongue continue at the same pressure, same speed, until you’re coming undone all over him. You feel it everywhere, in your chest, in your core, in your toes. You arch off your mattress, legs quivering and locking around his head. It feels like time is a myth, Jungkook fucking you through your orgasm until you almost collapse. 

You tap him on the head with your foot, falling back onto your pillows tiredly. 

Jungkook peers up at you, still the same wide-eyed expression on his face, except this time, your arousal is glistening on his face, scarlet lips swollen and wet. He presses a few kisses on your thighs, stomach, before dragging himself up on his biceps to hover you. He kisses you, letting you taste yourself on his tongue, and you can’t help but moan into his mouth. It’s so dirty, so scandalous, sends a shock through your spine. 

“I want you to fuck me,” you whisper between kisses. 

His cheeks turn red. 

“M-me too. I want to be inside you,” he stutters, kissing down your neck. “But I might need a second.”

You furrow your brows, suddenly self-conscious. “Why?” 

He kisses your jaw, avoiding eye contact. “BecauseIcamealready.”

“What, Koo?”

Jungkook sighs, dropping his forehead to your shoulder. “Because I came already.”

Oh. 

Your heart won’t be able to handle this much affection tonight. You just know it. 

You giggle, unable to hide the smile on your lips. 

“Stop,” he groaned into your neck. “Don’t laugh, I’m humiliated.”

“No, I’m not—” you laugh, “I’m not laughing at you. You’re so cute, Koo. I love you.”

He grins toothily. “I love you too.”

And then you laugh again, and he laughs with you, and it feels like your heart is blooming, petals unfurling in your chest. 

You wrap your arms around his neck, tugging him to you as close as humanly possible. You kiss him and try to make him understand—through the press of your lips, the desperate grip of your hands—just how completely he owns every part of you. 

You use your weight to roll him over, straddling his buff thighs, letting your soaked cunt linger over his growing length. 

“Hi,” he smiles big and wide, peering up at you like you hold the entire universe in your palms.

“Hi,” you repeat, kissing his cheeks, forehead, jawline. 

Behind you, you reach to grab his length in your hands, trace the veins that protrude. His mouth gapes open, watching as you realize… holy fuck. 

You’ve always been respectful of Jungkook’s boundaries. Never once peeped on him or seen him in his boxers. The farthest you ever got was a pair of grey sweatpants, and even then, it didn’t reveal much. There was no way to prepare yourself for this moment.

But as you stroke his cock languidly, you realise one thing for certain: that is not going to fucking fit inside you.

You don’t even need to vocalize it, because he’s already saying, “We’ll work with what we can. But I think you can take it, baby.”

Gulping, you nod. You want to take it. Want to feel every inch inside of your gummy walls, want to hear him wither underneath you. 

He’s hard again too, you note. You could cry, knowing just how bad he wants this. Wants you. 

You align his tip to your sopping hole, jaw slack as you gather the juices to hopefully make it easier. And then you’re sinking onto him, inch by inch, curses falling from his lips, hands gripping your hips tight enough to bruise. “O-oh fuck, Koo.”

“Keep going, baby,” he moans, guiding you onto him until your clit meets his pubic bone. “Just like that, all the way.”

A sound rips free from the very core of you, both hands landing on his stomach to steady yourself. For a moment, you just sit there, trying to accommodate his length inside you. Feels so painfully good, stings just right. 

“You okay?” He reaches to brush a strand of wet hair from your face. 

“Yeah,” you exhale, rocking your hips gently, back and forth, figure-eights. You can feel him in your stomach, can see the bulge protruding from your body. His eyes lock onto it, bottom lip tucked behind his front teeth. “Feel so full, Koo. It’s so deep.”

“Fuck, baby.” His fingers dig deeper into your hips, directing your movements. A swell of confidence runs through you, and you brace yourself, lifting yourself off his cock to slam back down on it. He all but screams, thighs quaking beneath your weight.

“You’re a fucking goddess,” he moans, head lolling back against the pillow. “I love you so much, my sweet girl, my best girl, fuck.”

“I love you too, Koo.” Your fingernails scrape down his chest, leaving red marks in your wake. 

You can see his abdomen muscles rippling with effort as he tries not to come undone too fast, jaw clenched tightly. His tattoos are slick with sweat. 

Your orgasm sneaks up onto you, but you don’t want it to end, don’t want to know the feeling of separation from him. Falling forward, you bury your face into his neck, and he wraps his arms around you, fucking up into you. 

His cock hits just where you need him, and your moans bounce off the walls, your headboard creaking with each thrust he makes to meet your movements. “I-I’m so close, Koo,” you moan.

“Me too, baby,” he says. His cock plunges greedily into your wetness, and you whimper. “I love you so so much, can’t live without you.”

You can’t help the tears that stream down your face. It’s too much—not just the sex, but that it’s sex with him. Jeon Jungkook, your best friend since birth, since before you knew anything else. You love him so much you don’t know how your heart will contain all this. It might burst any second. 

He feels the tears on his skin, and he’s slowing his thrusts, whispering, “Are you okay, baby? Did I go too fast? Want me to—”

“No, no. I want you to keep going.” You look into his eyes, and his expression softens. “I just—I love you. I can’t believe this is real.”

He kisses you, barely more than your mouths slotting together, and then his thrusts continue, more desperate and sloppy but still full of the same devotion. “I love you,” he murmurs into your mouth. “I-I know I’ve said it so many times tonight, but I love you so fucking much.”

Your warm, wet heat clenches around him. Little moans and whimpers escape you, teetering on the brink of another orgasm. “I know,” he gasps, and he’s crying now too, his whole body shaking. “I know, baby. Me too. I’ve got you.”

You stop moving completely, letting him take over, and the sounds are filthy, but the love that runs between you both is anything but. “My baby. Mine, you’re mine,” His teeth sinks into your shoulder as he thrusts up into you, wetness dripping onto his cock and the sheets below. His hands cup your ass, slamming you up and down his girth.

“Yours,” you cry, clutching him. 

He pulls back just enough to look at you, and his face is soaked with tears, eyes red and swollen and so full of love it physically hurts to witness. “I’m never letting you go,” he says, crying so hard he can barely get the words out.

“Me too,” you promise, “I’m not going anywhere. I’m right here.”

“Shit, I’m gonna cum, [Y/N], I can’t—”

Your fingernails dig into his biceps, mouth ripping open to moan out his name along with i love you i love you jungkook please please, and you feel him release inside you, spurts of his cum painting your walls as you tighten around him. You milk him dry until he can’t take it anymore, until you feel so full you think your DNA has been adjusted to match his. 

You all but collapse onto him, staying like that with your hearts thrashing against your ribs, reaching for each other through flesh and bone.

You want to stay here. Right here, in this specific moment, where his arm is around you and his breathing is shallow and you feel like you’re at home.

It’s a ridiculous thought. Childish, even.

You’ll have to get up soon—your bladder is already making demands, and reality is waiting just outside this bed. But not yet. You’re not ready yet.

Jungkook sighs into your hair. “I don’t wanna move.”

“Me either.”

“Do you… do you want this with me?” His chest rumbles with the question. 

“What do you mean?”

“I just… this meant something to you, right? The fact that we had sex?”

“Of course it did.”

You prop yourself onto your shoulders, brushing the hair out of his eyes. They twinkle and glow underneath your low light. He gulps before speaking, “I want us to be together. Or, at least try. I want us to take the risk because you’re worth every goddamn risk.”

Every birthday candle since you were a child was dedicated to him. Every shooting star, every 11:11 on the clock, every stray eyelash, every penny thrown into a fountain. You wished for this—for him—so many times you lost count. Wished for him to look at you the way he’s looking at you now, like you hung the moon and painted the stars.

You almost want to pinch yourself. But his hand is warm on your waist, heartbeat steady under your palm, and when you dig your nails slightly into your thigh, you don’t wake up to your blaring alarm. This isn’t a dream.

“I want that too. I want to wake up next to you and fight about whose turn it is to do the dishes and learn all your weird habits I don’t know yet.”

“[Y/N],” He cups your face in his hands. “You literally know all my weird habits. Even the fact that I collect Captain Underpants original copies." 

“Well yeah but I want to learn the new ones,” you shrug. 

He chuckles. “I can’t wait.”

Jungkook kisses you again. When he pulls back, he’s smiling that bunny smile that’s been your undoing since childhood. “Your party tonight was awesome, by the way.”

“It was all you.”

He smiles. “We’re really doing this.”

You know he’s not talking about Christmas anymore. 

You laugh, resting your forehead against his. “Having second thoughts already?”

“Not even a little.” He pauses, then his eyes go wide. “Oh my god. Your Christmas gift!”

He shoots up, still naked, peppering your face with a hundred tiny kisses. Forehead, nose, cheeks, chin, eyelids, everywhere he can reach while you dissolve into giggles.

“Koo, what—”

But he’s already scrambling off the bed, running to where his bag is discarded by your front door. You hear his feet padding against your floor as he runs back, jumping onto the bed with enough force to make you bounce. He’s grinning so wide it must hurt, holding something behind his back.

“Close your eyes,” he demands. 

“Jungkook—”

“Close them,” he whines.

You do as he says, and you feel the bed shift as he settles in front of you, feel his warmth as he leans close.

“Okay,” he softly says. “Open.”

Timidly, you open them. 

He’s holding a teddy bear. Your teddy bear. The one he kept in a box with your name on it.

It’s exactly as you remember—worn brown fur, one ear more floppy than the other, the tiny red bow around its neck that you’d tied when you were 7. He even kept it clean, maintained.

“Oh my god,” you exhale. Tears form in your eyes until they’re streaming down your face as you stare at this piece of your childhood, this tangible proof that he’s been carrying you with him all along.

His face falls. “Oh crap, do you not like it? I thought—I mean, I kept it because I thought maybe one day I could give it back to you, but if it’s weird or—”

“No, no.” Shaking your head frantically, you reach for the bear with trembling hands. “I love it. I fucking love it, Jungkook.”

His smile returns, like’s 6 years old again and just kissed you for the first time under the mistletoe.

Jungkook nuzzles into your neck, and you both burrow under your comforter, teddy bear clutched between you. His arms wrap around you from behind, pulling you flush against his chest, and you’ve never felt safer. Never felt more loved. 

It’s quiet for what feels like eternity. His breath syncs with yours, fingers tracing illegible patterns on your hip. 

“What was in that box in your closet, by the way?” you quietly wonder aloud as you stroke the bear’s fur. 

He pauses. Goes completely still.

“You saw that?”

“It has my name on it.”

He’s quiet for a long moment, and then he presses a kiss to your shoulder.

“Everything I love about you. That’s what’s in there.” 

You hug him (and the bear) tighter to you. 

After about an hour or so of intertwined limbs and lazy kisses, his breathing begins to slow, face buried in your hair. Sleep always comes easy when he’s around, and your eyes hang heavily. 

“Can we watch the Grinch tomorrow?” The words come out slurred with exhaustion.

In the darkness, you smile, tangling your fingers with his over your stomach. 

You’d curled up with that green, bitter creature every year, finding solace in his hatred of the holiday because at least someone understood. At least someone else knew what it felt like to watch everyone around you celebrate something that only brought you pain. You’d watch him scheme and plot and try desperately to steal Christmas away, and you’d think yes, exactly, take it all. Because if you couldn't have the Christmas you wanted, the one where Jungkook kissed you under the mistletoe and meant it, then what was the point of any of it? 

The Grinch was safe. The Grinch was yours. The Grinch never asked you to be anything other than bitter and broken and sick of watching other people get their happy endings.

But that girl who needed the Grinch, she’s gone. She got her happy ending, her Christmas miracle. 

Plus, the Grinch is overrated. 

“Actually,” you whisper, “I’m thinking we watch Frosty the Snowman.”

perm taglist. @mimi1097 @AlmatiarAU @absolutelyjeons @Sabrinahiddig @yooniepot @ggukivrse @Deluluvalerie @Sugak00kie134340 @Angelxkoo @yange7l @mellyyyyyyx @Senaqsstuff @jjkkkk15 @likecrazy22 @impossiblecopoaffire @readingbee44 @EyesforJungkook @lvnderdreams @vintagemoonsstuff @mauveliz @allysh @jeontylv @neurospicynugget @jxniana @haniiii @bo-rimmy @j0cgr0c @roseda @ggukreqz @dltyum @xxxxx1415 @annyeongbitch7 @nesha227 @Cannotalwaysbenight @Satisfied18 @m4aimm @Bangtansfav-7 @secretspam699 @Seolhyuningg @ot7girl4l @writesvani @xsyruhh @songbyeonkim @jungkookisthetypeto @rustedaffections @rayyrayy10 @dollyunjinz @fancypeacepersona @bangtans-momma

[jeons2k]

‎୨ৎ hard to love ׄ ׅ ׄ teaser

synopsis. ten years after leaving his quiet hometown, jungkook finally returns home for the holidays at his mother’s request. he’s built himself into a man feared for his fists and known for his trouble, but the only person he’s ever cared about is the one he left behind: you, his childhood sweetheart. as old memories resurface and buried feelings ignite, jungkook finds himself fighting the one battle he never learned to win: earning back the trust and heart of the girl he’s loved since they were kids.

pairing/genre. biker!jungkook x fem!oc, grumpy x sunshine, “he hates everyone but her + she loves everyone but him”, childhood frienemies to lovers, fluff, angst, eventual smut

tags/warnings. gym-owner!jk, v slight age gap (jk is 28, oc is 25), oc is the sweetest, jk is an asshole (not w oc tho (kinda??)), he’s lwk a bit toxic, etc (more tags/warnings tba)

teaser wc. around 2k (total ~20k)

roxe’s notes: an other one. its not me if i dont start new fics when i hv tons of unfinished ones... but here we go! this one was mainly inspired by this jk (i couldn’t js lick my screen and move on noooo i had to open my notes and write that shit down), anw comment to get added to the taglist yeah?

perm taglist. @hopelesslygreenbriar @sunainasworld @bajislove @jcnggukie @juggukies @j0cgr0c @mar-lo-pap @kimyishin @allysh @dionysusndifferent @gealkook @hisfavpiscesprincess @diablojjk @rustedaffections @osakis-gf @somisarchive @cholychi @vasilisaofthevalley @seokwrts @scarletreigns @renoirgoh @stillwithkooki @odetomeringue

the bass thrummed through the bar’s speakers, low and heavy, vibrating along the metal legs of the stools. jungkook sat hunched over his drink, the lights catching the ink on his knuckles as he rolled the cold glass of vodka between his tattooed fingers.

the bar smelled oddly like cigarette smoke and cheap perfume, and the pulsing sign flickering behind him painted the edge of his sharp jaw in violent red.

he didn’t smile. he barely blinked. and yet every woman in the damn place kept glancing his way.

jungkook didn’t do anything to invite them. he didn’t need to. he had that permanent scowl and cold eyes that made it very clear he didn’t fuck with anyone unless he felt like it. and when he did feel like it, he chose recklessly and without a shred of apology.

tonight, he was just drinking. until a palm slapped the back of his shoulder.

“dude–” jimin’s voice cut through the music like gravel. “i swear on my grandma’s ashes this super hot chick’s been eye-fucking you since we walked in. like, full-on porno stare. how the hell do you do it, bro?”

jungkook didn’t bother turning at first. just tilted his head lazily, let his eyes follow the direction jimin jerked his chin toward.

and yeah. there she was indeed. a gorgeous woman with long, dark hair and a short tight dress that left no room for imagination. confident posture, sultry makeup. she was everything but subtle with the way her gaze dragged over him from head to toe, shameless as she bit her lip, slow and deliberate.

jungkook’s tongue pressed into his cheek, a smirk cutting across his mouth. “what can i say, man?” he murmured, voice deep and lazy. “it’s no news chicks be thirsting over me all the damn time.” he lifted his glass and sent her a wink.

jimin held up his beer like he wanted to smash it over jungkook’s head. “you need to bury your ego so far up your asshole no one can find it.”

jungkook shrugged. “sounds like jealousy to me.”

jimin opened his mouth in disbelief. “jealous? of you? bro, the only thing you attract is thirty ass hoes.”

jungkook’s smirk sharpened. “at least i’m getting pussy. what you got, huh?”

jimin didn’t even hesitate. he swung a playful punch at jungkook’s shoulder. “i’m getting fucking flowers, man. flowers. and you’ll never, NEVER dream of getting any.”

jungkook snorted. “i don’t fuck with flowers. only petals i’m interested in are good girls’ pussies.”

jimin gagged so dramatically he almost fell off the stool. “bro you’re DISGUSTING.”

jungkook lifted his glass, unbothered. “i’m honest.”

“oh my god,” jimin groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “why am i even friends with your nasty ass?”

“because you love me dude.”

“i really fuckin’ don’t.”

jungkook raised a brow. jimin cracked and the two of them burst out laughing at the same time.

just on queue, a couple of snorts came from behind them, three dudes from their crew strolling up like they owned the place. guys jungkook trained with, fought with, and drank with. loud as hell, loyal until death.

“yo, jaykay! jim!” kai slapped jimin’s back, then jungkook’s shoulder. hard enough that any normal person would’ve winced. jungkook didn’t even flinch.

“wassup, my guys?” jackson grinned, fist-bumping them both.

“same shit, different night,” jimin muttered.

mark leaned in. “ay, jeon– there’s somebody asking for you near the entrance.”

jungkook didn’t even look up from his drink. “girl?”

“nah,” the guy said with a shrug. “just some dude.”

jungkook’s expression twisted into instant annoyance. “then tell him to fuck off.”

all three guys whistled like he’d just thrown a punch. they were used to his moodiness. used to the fact jungkook tolerated exactly five people on the planet, and four of them were standing around him right now.

jimin barked out a laugh. “bro’s allergic to anything that’s not his bike or doesn’t have a vagina.”

the guys hollered, pointing at jungkook because yeah, that was true as hell.

“facts,” jackson snickered. “ain’t nobody grumpier than this man.”

“for real,” kai added. “jungkook talks with his fists more than his mouth. last week he knocked out a dude before even hearing what he wanted.”

“didn’t like his face,” jungkook muttered flatly, taking another drink.

jimin rolled his eyes. “you’re a menace.”

jungkook shrugged. “i’m not here to mingle with some dude who thinks he got something to say to me.”

jimin snorted. “yeah you’re only down to get your dick sucked.”

jungkook smirked. “please. i get my dick sucked for free and still walk out with a pussy bonus. that’s a loyalty program to die for.”

the guys lost it. howling, elbowing each other, doing stupid obscene gestures with their hands.

“JAYKAY JEON, ladies and gentlemen!” mark cackled.

“bro, this man’s dick got more mileage than his bike,” jackson joked, making a two-handed gesture that earned him a shove from jimin.

“shut the fuck up,” jimin groaned, rubbing his forehead. “you’re all disgusting as hell.”

jungkook leaned back lazily in his stool, smirk deepening. “he knows me so well.”

jimin flicked him off. “unfortunately.”

they all cracked up again.

. . .

the guys eventually drifted off. kai headed to the pool tables, mark to the back hallway for whatever bullshit he was planning, and jackson toward the girls who’d been eyeing him since he walked in. the noise swallowed them up with heavy bass, clinking glasses, and someone shouting for shots.

jungkook finally had a moment of quiet. or he would’ve if his phone hadn’t started vibrating like it was possessed.

jimin lifted a brow. “dude… that’s gotta be your mom. no girl blows up your phone like that unless she’s sending nudes, and we both know you’d be smiling if that were the case.”

jungkook groaned, rubbing a hand over his face like the headache was physically crawling out of his skull. “she’s been on my ass all week.”

jimin snorted. “then pick up. don’t keep her waiting, mama’s boy.”

jungkook’s glare could’ve melted steel. but he still dug the phone out of his pocket because ignoring her would only make things worse.

another loud buzz made jungkook exhale hard. he muttered, “for fuck’s sake,” and lifted the phone to his ear.

“what’s good, ma,” he said, scanning the bar lazily; girls leaning into guys, low lights bleeding across skin, the smell of alcohol and perfume mixing thick in the air.

jimin snickered loudly behind him. jungkook didn’t even look; he just threw a side punch blindly, forcing jimin to dodge it with a laugh.

then his mother’s voice erupted through the speaker. sharp, stressed, and pissed.

“gguck! why aren’t you answering your phone? i’ve been calling all day! do you ever check anything? i swear, you disappear like you don’t care about your poor old mo–”

jungkook tilted his head back, closing his eyes. “mom…”

“are you still outside? what’s that noise? it’s too late! don’t tell me you’re still out at this hour!”

jungkook’s eyes snapped open. oh shit. he’s twenty eight for fucks sake.

“nah, nah,” he said quickly, straightening in his seat. “i’m home. with the guys. we’re just blasting music.”

jimin burst out laughing into his fist. jungkook elbowed him in the stomach.

“oh! jiminie is there?” his mom perked up immediately, her voice glowing like a damn sunrise.

jungkook handed jimin the phone with a dead stare. “here. say hi so she stops thinking i’m snorting coke in an alley.”

jimin grinned and leaned in. “hi, mom!”

“jimin! oh my god, sweetheart, it’s been so long! how are you?!”

“living my best life, mom!!”

jungkook wanted to throttle him.

mrs jeon returned to jungkook with a sigh that hit him right where he hated it. “jungkookie… i miss you. i miss my baby.”

everything in him stilled. he tried to hide it–the subtle drop in his shoulders, the moment his jaw loosened, the way he suddenly looked away from the crowd like the noise was too loud.

“…yeah,” he murmured. “miss you too mom.”

a small pause, before she went for the kill. “so that means you’ll come home for the holidays, right? everyone in the village misses you.”

jungkook choked on air. “ma, what– no, i never said– ”

“good! so it’s settled. i’ll cook your favorite. love you, baby!”

“ma– wait–”

and the call ended just like that.

jungkook stared at his phone like it had just sentenced him to prison time.

jimin was already cackling. “what’d she say? bro, you look like someone told you your bike got repossessed.”

jungkook pushed his fingers into his hair and groaned. a long, deep, defeated groan. “looks like i’m spending the holidays in my hometown.”

jimin slapped the table. “nahhh bro, we had parties lined up all december. you’re missing out on that?”

jungkook flipped him off without looking. but jimin wasn’t done. “you’re telling me you’re trading strippers and tequila for goats and old people?”

jungkook rubbed the back of his neck, trying not to think too hard about it.

but he did. and he couldn’t help it.

the village. the mountains. that stupid freezing air. his childhood home. and more importantly, you.

his mind went there faster than he could stop it.

he hadn’t seen you since he walked out of that place. freshly eighteen, angry at the world, convinced he needed to run or suffocate.

you were only fifteen then. but hell, he remembered.

you, sitting on the old wooden steps with a sketchbook balanced on your knees.

you, with paint on your fingers and your little pigtails tugged with a ribbon you always fixed with your teeth.

you, scolding him when he stole your brushes.

you, shoving him when he made fun of the way you blushed.

it’s been ten years. ten years of bars and girls and mistakes. ten years of fast rides and faster nights. ten years of pretending the past didn’t exist.

but every once in a while, your face flashed in his head.

he wasn’t a saint. he’d slept with more women than he could count. dated girls the way he smoked cigarettes—quickly, carelessly, burning out halfway through.

but a man always remembers his first love. and fuck, you were his.

his mom had slipped your name a few times in conversation. “y/n’s still here!” she’d said casually. “she helps kids at the school sometimes!”

jungkook never asked for more. but only because he didn’t trust what answers would do to him.

a slow, intrusive heat curled in his stomach. maybe going home wasn’t the worst idea after all.

a shift in the room pulled him back. strong perfume. heels clicking. the soft slide of sequins.

jungkook blinked once, settling back into the present as the girl from earlier strutted toward him. her hips swaying, eyes locked on him like she’d already picked him out and unwrapped him.

her red painted lips parted in a sweet little smirk. her dress glimmered under the lights, tight and short and very intentionally dangerous.

jungkook’s expression changed instantly. something darker sliding behind his eyes, something lazy and wicked curling into his mouth.

he forced every thought of you deep, deep down where nothing could reach it.

not tonight. tonight, he wanted to go numb. tonight, he wanted easy. tonight, he wanted to bury himself in someone who didn’t know a single real thing about him.

and she looked like exactly that.

jungkook leaned back in his seat, licking his lower lip slowly as she approached.

a slow, dirty smirk spread across his face. the kind that meant trouble for whoever was dumb enough to fall for it.

yeah. tonight had been a rough night for him. and he really, really needed to get laid.