Latest Posts by koorosie - Page 7

so close to perfect | jjk

jeon jungkook x reader

angst with a happy ending, idol!au, established relationship ; wc : 1480 words

rating: pg13

warnings: swearing, mentions of insecurities, jungkook is a bit of a dick here i'm sorry lol

note: this fic was inspired by this song! it's been collecting dust in my drafts for so long and then i realized that i haven't posted anything in months so....... hope you guys enjoy!

jeongguk has always been your constant, and even with what seems to be the whole world against the two of you, you can't bring yourself to let him go.

Sighing, you take a sip from your tea. “You’re a fucking idiot.”

Jeongguk blinks. “What?”

“I said,” you repeat slowly, “you’re a fucking idiot. I know what I got into. You don’t get to make decisions for me.”

“I’m not making decisions for you, (Y/N).” He scoffs, leaning back on his chair. “I’m telling you that this isn’t working out between us. We need to break up.”

For a few moments, you say nothing. The sounds of the cafe downstairs fill the silence between the two of you and you idly wonder if he’ll gain some sense the longer that you stare at him. You raise an eyebrow.

“You literally told me that you wanted to start a family with me yesterday,” you deadpan. “People don’t change that quickly, especially not you.”

“Then you obviously don’t know me well enough!” He fires back, leaning forward as he grips the edge of your table. His jaw clenches, and in another time, maybe you would have found it attractive. Now, however, it only fuels your irritation further.

Pinching the bridge of your nose, you consider actually slapping some sense into that stupid, big head of his. “Jeongguk, I’ve known you for ten years,” you remind him calmly. “I know you better than I know myself, which is why I know that you’re an awful liar and that every sentence you’ve uttered in the past ten minutes has been pulled straight out of your ass.”

You can practically see the gears turning in his head. It was clear that this strategy wasn’t working out, and it didn’t take a genius to figure out that it was time for him to switch tactics.

When his gaze grows harder, colder, you already know that the next thing that comes out of his mouth will tear your heart to shreds. Still, you tilt your chin upwards, meeting his gaze head-on.

“(Y/F/N),” he says quietly, voice so dangerously low. You brace yourself for the impact. “How do I make you understand that the past three years have been nothing but a waste of my time?”

Bull’s-fucking-eye.

He takes your frozen state as a sign to continue. “The past three years have just been one big trainwreck. You’ve done nothing but hold me back in every aspect of my life. You have been nothing but selfish and it shows even now,” he scoffs. “You refuse to listen to me when I tell you something. It’s always your way or the highway, isn’t it?”

You’re stunned into silence. So this was the path he was going to take, huh? Somewhere, underneath the wave of hurt that washes over you is a thought: textbook. This is a textbook manifestation of your worst fears, your deepest insecurities. He knows you better than you know yourself; knowing exactly which buttons to press to hurt you the most. He’s cutting into your very soul with surgeon-like precision. The wounded, angry part of you wants to take the bait, to rip him apart but you don’t have it in you to tear into him just as he had done with you.

So you say nothing, merely tilting your head to the side. Slowly, you bring your cup to your lips, sipping quietly before setting it down once more. His eyes are still dark, filled with barely repressed rage.

“You’re always fucking clinging to me too!” He spits out. “You act like you’re so high and mighty but then you act like a fucking child whenever you don’t get what you want. Grow the fuck up,” he laughs humorlessly. “Loving you is the biggest mistake of my life. I wish I never fucking met you.”

At that statement, you can’t even hold back a wince. If you weren’t watching him so closely, you would not have noticed the way his eyes widen infinitesimally, fingers twitching as if he wanted to reach out for you. He bites his lip and for a second he looks like the Jeongguk that you know and love. That’s all it takes for you to strengthen your resolve once more, to force your tears back, and to face this head-on as if he hadn’t hit you where it hurt the most.

“Is that all you’ve got?” You say coolly as if your heart didn’t ache at his words. “Let it all out, love; I’ve got all day.”

His facade begins to crumble. “Why aren’t you mad at me?”

You raise an eyebrow. “Do you want me to be mad at you?”

He visibly deflates in front of you. Shaking his head, he looks at the coffee table, fingers tracing the scratches on the surface.

“Just break up with me,” he whispers pitifully. “It’s the best thing you can do.”

You hum softly. “Do you want to break up with me because of the reasons that you listed earlier? Or…”

“Or?”

“Does this have something to do with the conversation you had with your manager this morning?”

His head shoots up, eyes widening comically. “How do you know that?”

“I have my ways,” you shrug. “That, and the fact that Yoongi overheard the two of you and gave me a heads up.”

“How did he even overhear us?”

You only shrug once more. Yoongi was, well, Yoongi. He was a man of many (slightly concerning) talents.

“If you’re worried about me receiving hate,” you start, pulling his hand into your grasp, “then you have nothing to worry about. I’m a big girl. I can handle it.”

He scoffs quietly but there’s no real malice behind it. “People are cruel when they want to be. I’ve been on the receiving end of that, (Y/N). I never want you to know what that feels like.”

“So you were just going to take the easy way out?”

He blanches. “No, I… I just wanted to protect you…”

A sad grin creeps up your face. “And look where that got us.”

Letting go of his hand, you take another sip of your tea, almost spitting it out when you look at Jeongguk and realize he has actual tears in his eyes. “Guk?” You say worriedly, hand reaching out to cup his cheek. He leans into your touch and closes his eyes, eyebrows still adorably scrunched in that way it always did whenever he was close to tears.

When he opens his eyes again, you smile.

“I didn’t mean what I said,” he says hoarsely. “I don’t think you’re selfish or immature or clingy. Loving you, meeting you has been the best thing to happen to my life and⁠, and I⁠—” He swallows thickly, a single tear rolling down his cheek. You’re quick to wipe it off even as you feel your own eyes well up with tears.

“I love you,” he admits. “I look at you and my heart feels so full and you make me so happy and I just, I love you so much⁠—” he sobs, dragging his seat closer to you so he could hold you close. You stiffen when he buries his face in the crook of your neck, only relaxing when you’re sure that no one else is on this floor of the cafe. Your arms wrap around his hunched form, letting him cry freely.

“I’m so sorry about what I said. I didn’t mean any of it I swear,” he blubbers, nose all red and runny. It’s almost adorable how he looks at you so earnestly with tears in his eyes. “You’re my everything, (Y/N), I mean it.”

He pulls away from you with a sudden urgency, hands cupping your face gently as he looks into your eyes deeply. “You don’t hold me back. You make me a better person every single day. I’m an idiot who should have talked to you about this first before forcing you to break up with me.”

“You are an idiot,” you agree. He snorts at how quickly you agree, but all you can think of at the moment is how easily he puts your heart at ease despite being the very person to have ripped it apart moments earlier.

“Don’t get me wrong, we’re going to talk about this in detail but this isn’t a discussion we should be having in a public place.” You rise from your seat, patting his cheek gently. “Let’s go home?”

He nods happily, giving you that smile⁠—that soft smile of his that makes you forget about everything else, the one that tells you he loves you more than anything in the world. “Let’s go home.”

The two of you still had so many things to talk about, so many things to unpack from today’s events. It almost seems daunting now that you think about it as the two of you walk home with your hand in his, but as long as you had him… then maybe it wouldn’t be so bad after all.

bow to you V — jjk

Pairing(s): King!Jungkook x Queen!OC (Name: Belle)

Rating: G | PG | M | R 18+

Type: Drabble | Oneshot | Two Parter | Series

Genre: Royal AU | Marriage AU

Word Count: 5k+ 

Tags & Warnings: infidelity, cheating, lots of crying and screaming, marital problems, royal marriage troubles, a crap ton of back and forth fighting,  jungkook is something else dude, ANGST, coarse language, mild violence, sexual content (both explicit and non-explicit)

Authors Note: I don’t know how I feel about this chapter because i tried not to make it too repetitive and actually move the plot to a different direction. Let me know what you think! 

“I am a Queen and I am a wife. As the days go by, I feel those two roles splitting so far to a point where it turns into two people. The wife wakes up every morning thinking that he might say sorry and try to fix the damages. The Queen wants to rise up and stand her ground with her chin raised, doing everything she can to gain control. Today, I want to be Belle. For once, I need to listen to my heart and not let him break it again. I am Belle.”

— Belles’ Personal Diary Excerpt

Summer began in a gentle transition from last nights’ warmth to a bright morning. Though the cold was still faintly present this particular morning. The censer cast comforting heat on her back, plumes of steam flowed out from her tea and her fingers felt toasted covered by her ivory gloves. Belle kept her hair free from ties and pins to soothe her recurring headaches, long trail of black waves over her shoulders. Over the last seven months, she spent her time taking care of the concubines, settling community disputes, preparing for the new heir and listening to counsel.

Instead of sitting around and feeling sorry for herself, she was making progress in her kingdom and making her household her own once more. Even though it ached to send a concubine into Jungkooks’ chambers every night. He became far more affectionate these past few months; sending her gifts and taking walks with her in the garden. Belle wouldn’t call it paradise but it was a good transition to what she had planned next.

Namjoon slid open the door to the tea room, closing it behind him and bowing. “You called for me, Your Majesty.” His silver hair had grown down to his nape during the winter and spring.

“I’m sure you’ve heard of King Taehyung calling on six allies to build his empire.” Belle tidied up the letters she spent the morning writing. All of them glimmering with the royal gold seal against parchment paper. “It’s going to be trouble soon.”

Keep reading

redemption | jeon jungkook

part two of stoic

➛ pairing(s): ex-husband!jungkook x reader

➛ genre(s): angst, smut, exes au

➛ summary: it’s been years since you and jungkook got a divorce and separated, and you’re both suffering in your individual ways. jungkook, still dealing with the consequences of his selfish and heartless actions, and you? you must tackle life as a single mother…

➛ warning(s): swearing, mentions of infidelity and untrustworthiness, mentions of divorce, jungkook gets his karma and reader is much more cautious now, special guest star namjoon, dom!jungkook, sub!reader, fingering, oral (fem. receiving), unprotected vaginal sex, rough sex, crying during sex, breast and nipple play, creampie, squirting 

➛ word count: 6,830 words

➛ author’s note: after such high demand, a second part has been made and this will be the final one. hope you all enjoy <3

masterlist

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to build a home | chapter seven

Pairing: Jungkook x reader. ceo!jk + dilf!jk x nanny!oc

Genre: strangers to lovers. angst. loads of plot. fluff. smut.

Word count: 13k (if u saw the post where i promised this one wouldn’t be 10k like the last one, no u didn’t 🤫)

Warnings: oral sex (m & f), deepthroating (did i say pj jk? my bad, i meant bj jk 😌), soft!dom jk, sub oc, fingering, everything is v wet, v graphic, dirty talk, protected penetrative sex, lil bit of cockwarming, they’re so smitten w each other through it all, loads of kissing <3, loads of lovin’, lil bit of angst but it has a happy ending, so much fluff, they’re so domestic, JUNGKOOK IS A DREAM, oc has 0 filter, shirtless jimin making coffee?, i think that’s it <3

Author’s note: i truly hope u enjoy this one <33 sorry for making it so long i got carried away and also!!! this is what happens when y’all put the image of dilf jk in those see through pyjamas in my mind and send me audio porn, ok? i go crazy!! i love u guys, sm. thank u for the love always!! i’m sending it right back paired w a million kisses ur way, as per usual. <3333 xxxxx

This is a work of fiction. Please respect the members and their privacy. x

Texts in bold + italic resemble a recollection of past events.

Chapter Seven

“Tap into your awareness. Take a deep breath, feel the warm light spread all through your body – a golden hue that starts at the top of your head all the way to the tip of your toes. Bask in it, welcome the peace into every inch of your temple. Feel it in your core, that warm light – that tingle-”

You bring your steps to an abrupt halt.

“Bro, really?” You stare at your screen in disbelief, as if the sweet voice that was attempting to coax you into a peaceful headspace would apologize for how oddly arousing you found her meditative practice.

You pull at the string of your headphones, with more force than necessary for, you know, emphasis – shortly followed by a groan, all powered by frustration.

The worst kind of frustration there is.

“You know what I do when I’m really horny?” Lucy’s question snaps you out of your sulking.

You stay quiet for a couple of seconds, debating whether you want to know the answer to that or not. Today had been stressful enough – a long, slow Monday that had marked the highest temperatures the Summer had seen. A historical heatwave, they called it. Though your heat came less from the fact that the Earth is so polluted it reaches the 40s and more from your activities the day prior.

You decide to venture into her potential advice. “Tell me, Senpai.”

“I have sex with Jimin.” She simply shrugs, voice relaxed as she takes another lick of her strawberry iced lolly. You wince at how lewd she makes it look.

“You had sex for the first time like- yesterday.”

“Wrong. I made love for the first time two weeks ago.”

“My bad, Aphrodite.”

“You’re just bitter because I’ve had sex in your boyfriend’s house and you haven’t.” Her smile is roguish and you can’t help but return it, consequently shoving a pillow her way.

“You’re so bad. So, so bad.”

“The mattress had great elasticity, by the way. Like crazy comfortable. Like- oh! Duh. Like a hotel bed!”

You groan, throwing your head back in frustration. “I don’t know what hurts the most – the fact that I want to know how comfortable his mattress is or that… he’s not my boyfriend. He’s not my boyfriend and therefore we have to take it slow. We have to be good, Lucy. We can’t let another playroom gate unfold.”

“I think playroom gate was totally healthy.”

That’s her new thing, preaching about the importance of a healthy sex life.

“Fuck, I know. I didn’t even know sex could feel like that. And we didn’t even go all the way.” Your breathing starts picking up, chest heaving slightly at the sole memory.

“Okay, okay. I’ll give you actual good advice. From a former virgin to a newly rebirthed one-” you narrow your eyes at her, another pillow ready to swing in her direction. She just giggles. “Meditate.”

“Meditate?”

“Yup. It really helps you relax and focus on the now. Consciousness and all that.”

“I am consciously horny. Now.”

She laughs. “Where’s Herbie?”

Herbie, also known as your vibrator.

“I don’t want Herbie!” You throw your hands up in defeat, sighing as they come down.

You’re fully throwing a tantrum, you’re aware. But you can’t help the tension that builds all through you. The way something in your lower belly drops like quickfire when you all but think about his face – his hooded eyes, glassy over how on edge he was. The red of his lips. The mess you’d made of his hair from running your hands through it, tugging whenever he had your hips bucking and your legs closing around his big, strong ones.

Here we go again.

Another groan.

Lucy gets serious all of a sudden, straightening up in her place on the couch. “Well, ___, then you’re gonna have to revaluate this whole taking it slow. Or, I don’t know, get on your knees and pray. Maybe he'll show mercy and, you know, whilst you’re at it...”

Meditation sucks.

Okay, you’re being dense.

Meditation as to treat sexual frustration sucks. Yet you keep gravitating towards it because for one, you already paid for the overpriced app subscription and two, it’s good white noise. It’s your third day in this torturous journey to tuning into your higher self who, presumably, is less horny and more collected. A true being of light. You decide to complement your spiritual practices with a nice walk – making sure to get out of the bus a few stops prior so you can collect yourself with the aid of some movement and fresh air until you have to come face to face with the very root of your distress.

You smile. That’s all it takes, really. One brief second of him crossing your mind. Fuck welcoming peace. Jeon Jungkook is so much better.

You pick up your pace, your whole demeanour giddying up at the fact that it’s only approximately twenty minutes until you see him again. Him and Soori, hand in hand as she practices her walking – big round eyes and puffy cheeks coming up to greet you, her little button nose scrunching up in excitement. Her expressions are a carbon copy of her father’s, whose face takes on the same motions at the sight of you.

When you finally make it to his front door, you can feel the excitement settling in your chest. It makes you think about how lucky you are – to be able to come to them.

You ring the doorbell and wait for a minute, smile adorning your face as you hear the door unlock from the inside as it begins to swing open. You take a step forwards, voice ready to chirp out your usual greeting for Mrs. Chae.

The words are caught in your throat as the door comes to an open and you’re met with Jungkook, a bright smile on his face as he holds Soori in his arms, her smile growing so wide it makes her pacifier slip from between her mouth.

All of it is unexpected – from having him open the door for you, to seeing him first thing in the morning and taking in his enthusiasm.

Jungkook is halfway out the door, free arm outstretched, ready to welcome you in it.

“What are you wearing?” Your words make him stop dead in his tracks, confused.

You just stare at him, unabashedly scanning your eyes through his body. He looks fresh out of the shower – hair silky and soft and a soft expression in his face that tells you he’s well rested. He looks good, that’s not it. What’s it is his outfit, if it can even be considered as such. He’s wearing a mesh, see-through olive green set. The short sleeve shirt and pants so sheer they leave little to the imagination as your eyes fall from the dark ink you can make out on his shoulder to his black briefs. The first couple of buttons in his shirt are undone and so is your sanity.

“Wha- oh. My pyjamas? It’s a cozy morning. We’re cozy, you see?” He motions to Soori as he says this and you take in her cute lilac sweatsuit, a soft pair of bunny slippers on her feet as they swing back and forth frantically. She smiles at you, letting you know she wants to be in your arms – almost surprised herself that she gets to see you earlier than usual.

“You sleep like that?”

“No, I don’t. I sleep-” but Jungkook doesn’t finish that sentence, for both of your sakes. “It’s a lounge set, now can you come in?”

You step inside, a chuckle escaping your lips. “A lounge set. That is so presump-” but before you can finish your witty remark, his arm snakes around your waist and his lips collapse against yours in a soft, gentle kiss. “Jung-,” you gasp, “what are you doing? Where’s Mrs. Chae?”

“She’s away. On vacation,” he says, lips still grazing yours. He places one last chaste kiss, smiling a little at the way you pout, still confused. He pecks your cheek before he finally says, “good morning.”

It’s going to be a long, long day.

“Morning,” your voice is a dreamy whisper, chest still flushed to his. Soori taps on your shoulder repeatedly, a bit more forceful than usual as she lets out a little whine, demanding your attention. She’s still getting used to having to share it. “Hi, princess. Good morning. How are you?” You take her from him as she jumps in your arms.

“Ouch,” he brings his hands to his chest dramatically, “so she gets all the morning love?”

“Now I see where she gets it from,” you tease, making him scowl at you. “Good morning, lounge princess.” You coo at him, pinching his cheek.

“Do you not like it?” He says, gaze dropping to take a look at his clothes as if he hadn’t just picked them himself.

You hold back a laugh, but your smile gives your amusement away. “It’s… different. You can rock it, though.”

He pouts. “You’re mean.”

“Naaaa,” Soori says, taking you by surprise.

“Yeah, Soo. Tell daddy.” You walk away as you say this, making your way to the kitchen.

He’s about to protest on your use of the forbidden word but his brain fails him, currently working at a solid 3% of its normal capacity. He opts for engaging in baby talk. That always helps. “Don’t flatter yourself. Everything is Na nowadays. We fall into the same category as the giraffe, the rubber ducky and… whatever’s edible, really.”

“So, are you working from home today?” You ask, strapping Soori in her high chair. Jungkook got a head start on her breakfast already and she waits patiently for it.

“Yeah. I pulled crazy hours yesterday so I told everyone to take it easy today. I still have a bunch of contracts to look through but, no meetings.”

“Ah, explains the fit.” You say, eyes glued to the apple you’re slicing.

He rolls his eyes, but walks towards you nonetheless. “Hey,” he towers you from behind, hands resting at either side of your body on the counter. “I missed you.”

“You saw me yesterday.” You mock nonchalance but he can hear the smile in your voice you hide from him.

“Well, yeah, but- I missed you. Like being able to hug you. And stuff.”

“And stuff,” you mimic, a playful tone to your voice.

“What did you put in your coffee this morning? You’re extra witty today, baby.”

Baby.

He hasn’t called you that since Sunday and your brain can’t grasp just how weak the pet name makes you. How you can physically feel your knees weakening, the way they write in poems and love songs.

Adoration with two pumps of horny, Jungkook. That’s what I put in my coffee.

You turn around, sheepishly smiling at him. His grin widens when he sees the light blush to your cheeks, arms leaving the counter and taking a step back. You miss his proximity already. “Nothing,” you sing-song, “I missed you, too.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

He smirks before his head lowers, his lips on a journey to find yours.

Soori shrieks, pointing at her apple as she lets out her infamous, “Naaa.”

You turn to her and Jungkook takes a step back.

“Sorry, Soo. Coming right up.” You tell her.

You go back to slicing her fruit and Jungkook plates her eggs, cutting them into tiny pieces as he does the same with the toast, lathering some avocado on top.

“Sorry,” he says, avoiding your eyes. “We should probably…,”

“Behave. Whilst, you know, I’m on the clock and everything.” You finish his sentence for him, pressure so evidently swimming in the air, it could cut a diamond.

“Yeah- yes. Also… we should, you know. Take it slow.”

“Yeah,” you agree, voice casual but there’s a strain to it. “Sunday was just… a tiny mishap. Good, but- a mishap.”

“Yes. I mean, I don’t regret it-”

You turn to him, frenzied eyes meeting his. “Neither do I.”

“But we should probably go back to our programmed schedule of… taking it easy. Slow is good.”

“Slow is great.”

“Yeah,”

“Yeah.”

~

Slow is, to put it lightly, hell.

You’ve been tip-toeing around the sexual tension that follows you like a shadow wherever you go – physically and mentally.

Yet, besides the gruelling desire for him that you can’t help but welcome all through your body you can’t really ignore how it doesn’t just stop at that. It’s the closeness you crave – in more than just the physical aspect of your relationship. Or more so, your situationship. That also has your head looping in a frenzied, uncontrollable train of thought.

You can’t shake just how much you enjoyed having him sweep you in his arms and press your lips to his – Soori in his hold, the both of them welcoming you with bright smiles and a sense of home. One that you’ve tried to tame down from inside your chest since the morning. You feel foolish, but it’s inevitable – the way you thought something had drastically shifted inside of him. That he’d changed his mind, not really caring anymore about someone finding out. Not his friends, not Mrs. Chae, not a potential neighbour passing by. It’s a stretch, in all ways fathomable. Because in reality, you know that slow doesn’t stem so much from what people would think when they realize he’s engaging in more than professional affairs with his nanny; but more so from the fact that opening up, to you, to the world, hell – even to himself – is still dreadful to Jungkook.

“Naaa-na?” Soori blabs, shoving a fistful of noodles that overflow from her little hand your way.

“No, baby. Those are noodles.” You tell her, smiling sweetly and leaning your face on your hand as you stare at her.

“Nanana,” she half sings, half states – shaking her head as she gives you that signature bunny smile.

You can feel your heart seizing up in your chest. She looks so much like her dad.

“Hey, bun. You look so much like your daddy when you smile like that.” She just stares at you, giddiness not faltering once as she continues to eat her noodles. “You’re so cute, just like him.”

You gave your heart to Soori far before Jungkook began occupying it, too. She was so easy to love – wide eyed, curious and even though she never lost that easy spirit of hers, you could see how much the situation was affecting her. She would cry, sometimes for long stretches of time, inconsolably sobbing into your shoulder as you rocked her back and forth, attempting to put her down for her nap. Her eyes would tear up and her little body would shake in your arms and the process was exhausting enough to carry its essence throughout the day. At times, Jungkook would walk through the front door, finally back from work, and she would fall into his arms, a new wave of tears threatening to spill from her glassy eyes. She would stare at her dad, quivering chin and tucked bottom lip, as if wondering if he’d leave again in a matter of minutes.

You didn’t realize just how affected she’d been until you overheard Jungkook, Hobi and Kenny that night after the inauguration. The bitterness in his words when he claimed Ira didn’t love Soori enough to stay.

It was then that you grasped it, the severity of the reality she was living through when you stepped into her life. It made you want to do things differently back then. If you’d known, you would’ve been able to understand just why she dreaded being put into her crib during nap time – fighting sleep in your arms until her little body gave in. She couldn’t just be left there, always needing to fall asleep in your arms. She would toss and turn, whining when she saw you walk away. It made sense to you why doorway goodbyes would be filled with tears and how when Jungkook came back, instead of excitement she would feel relief – followed by a new wave of fear he’d leave again.

You stare at her – really look at her. A happy baby. Easy-going, loving and trusting. A peace about her that sometimes startles you when you leave her to play by herself for a couple of minutes and realize she’s awfully quiet; only to find her in her own little world, quietly babbling to herself and her ever-growing family of plushies. She’s got giggles and tickles and shrieks whenever she sees any sort of animal on the tv – real or animated.

She’s good, you think. She healed.

You know her world is small. Her hours seem shorter, days breezing by as she seems to grow up with every passing minute. Yet you can’t help but think how time truly did wonders for her.

Time and love.

You truly hope time is just as good with Jungkook.

Time, and yes – love.

~

By the time it takes you to get Soori cleaned up from lunch and into pyjamas, cozied up and tucked in bed, it’s nearing half past one. Jungkook hasn’t left his office since the morning after breakfast time was done for Soori, which is odd because he always makes sure he’s with her for lunch whenever he’s home – even if it’s just to make her a bottle and put her down for her nap. What’s even more worrying is he hasn’t eaten since either, and with his breakfasts consisting of coffee and whatever nibbles he can get out of Soori’s – it’s even more concerning.

You tidy up the kitchen, scroll through your phone aimlessly and when the clock marks 2 pm you worry enough to make your way to his office, gently knocking on the door in case he’s really submerged in something or on a call of some sort. When a couple of seconds go by and there’s no reply from the other side of the door, your overdramatic brain begins crafting stories of the worst-case scenario.

“Come in,” he says, making you sigh in relief.

You open the door, stepping inside and gently closing it behind you. “I thought you were dead.”

That makes his eyes snap from his computer to you in a millisecond, brow raised and a playful smirk adorning his features. “That’s extreme. Where’s Soori?”

“Napping.” You reply, walking closer to his desk.

“Shit- already? I lost track of time.”

“You have really bad eating habits.” Your voice is monotone, casual.

“I love it when you speak your mind,” he says, tone not entirely sarcastic. His eyes are glued back to the screen of his computer. “Hey, can you help me with something?”

“Me?”

He hesitates for a second, looking up as he says, “yes, you.”

“I don’t know how much I can help with whatever goes on at the other side of this desk but, sure.” You say as you make your way towards him.

“Why’d you say that? You’re very smart.”

His comment flusters you. “Tell me how I can be of service then.”

“I’m writing this speech for a charity event we’re hosting next week and, I don’t know. I feel like it sounds very impersonal. Sort of like- a template. I don’t like it.”

“Ah. Then yes, I can definitely help.”

“Come on, Maya Angelou. Time to shine.” He says, rolling slightly to the side on his big leather chair so you can take a better look at his computer, a half-written speech on the screen.

You lean forwards, hands resting on his desk as you bent some, eyes fixed on the document as you scan through the words, analysing them. He feels slightly exposed. He also feels an intractable impulse to sit you on his lap. Not to necessarily do anything too sinful just – hold you.

He decides to be gentlemanly instead.

“Here, sit down-” he begins, body halfway up as he begins to stand. You just wave your hand at him in dismissal, murmuring a string of no, no’s. You look very focused and Jungkook decides to leave you be, sitting back down on his chair.

From what you can take, it’s a charity event to gather funds for a school for blind and disabled children. It’s heartfelt and compassionate, at times a bit informal even. It makes you smile, thinking about how much it feels like you’re reading a journal entry – written by none other than Jeon Jungkook.

“It’s good. I see what you mean, though, by trying to make it less impersonal. But I don’t think it’s impersonal at all. Whenever you want to transmit feelings whilst keeping your tone formal you do need some certain balance, though. Just so it doesn’t lose the tonality that makes up a speech. So, here- may I?” You say, fingers dancing close to the keyboard.

“Yes, yes. Of course,” he says.

You get to work, giving him pointers, asking him to write the sentence so you can twitch it a bit – expanding his vocabulary with fancy words that only end up making the speech more sincere. Approachable, as you say. By the third paragraph, he’s pretty much got it – having perfected it and added enough for it to be up to his standards.

“Thank you. I’ve never finished writing anything so quick in my life,” he tells you.

“You’re welcome. You should eat something,” you smile at him but it’s in a slightly patronizing way that makes his chest flutter when he realizes you worry about him.

“I will, I just- have to go through this one contract,” he returns.

“I thought you said you told everyone to take it easy today?”

“Yeah, them. Not me. It’s enough of a treat to be able to stay home, though.”

“Is the contract really long?” You’re stalling, not wanting to leave his side just yet.

“Yeah, look.” He places a stack of papers in front of him, bible-thick.

Your eyes widen. “Holy shit.”

He snorts, head thrown back as it turns into laughter. “Yes – holy shit, alright. What’s even worst, look at the tiny font” he says, skimming through the pages.

You gasp, a bit more dramatically than intended. But it doesn’t stop there. “I’m sorry you have to sit through agonizing paperwork,” your voice is sweet and you bring your hand to his head, giving him a soft pat. Or at least that’s the original intention.

He keens into your touch, leaning his head to the side slightly. So, inevitably, you find yourself carding your fingers through his hair – caressing softly. It’s an innocent touch, you know it and Jungkook knows it, too. So, he pushes all impulses aside and gives into it. it’s comforting to say the least and soon enough he’s returning the affection with a harmless touch of his own as he runs his knuckles down the soft skin of your free hand that rests at your side.

“Yeah,” he says, his voice low as he tries to remember exactly what he’s agreeing on.

“Still, you need to… recharge. Fuel and all that. Unwind,” you don’t mean for the last word to resemble a whimper but you can’t really stop it as it leaves you.

“Mhm. Your company helps though,” he says, sweet words matching his sweet face yet highly contrasting to the shadow that casts upon his gaze. Eyes dark with a hint of a glimmer in them.

“T-that’s good. I’m- glad. I can, um, get you something. To eat, I mean. You know, bring it here.” You offer, brain convincing you your voice sounded way more collected than it actually did.

He smiles. “No, that’s alright. Thank you, though.”

He just looks up, staring at you with that side smirk that makes your bones feel like jelly, bringing your hand closer to him as he laces his fingers with yours.

“You’re welcome.”

He simply hums, thumb caressing your hand ever so softly.

Slow. It’s written in both your gazes as your eyes lock with his, only missing them when you blink, a slow motion that makes your eyelids feel heavy with every passing second.

Slow. The same way he pulls you closer. Close enough to step between his legs before you instinctively fall into his touch completely, sitting on his lap.

Slow. Just like your touch as the hand that isn’t still intwined in his cups his cheek, stroking softly – slowly.

Slow. In the way he smiles, face relaxing as he leans into your touch, eyes closing as he basks in the feeling of your hands on his skin.

Slow. Like the words that fall from your lips as you say, “let me take care of you.”

Jungkook sighs, eyes fluttering once, then twice before he nods. Rationality catching up with him way too slowly to deny you.

Your hands snake past the collar of his shirt, eyes locking with his as he shudders under your touch. Your nails scraping lightly at the warm skin on his shoulders before you dig your fingers into the flesh. He tenses for a second before his whole body finally relaxes, melting into the chair as he lets out a faint moan – hand firmly squeezing at your hip before it lands on your ass.

“You know – it’s growing on me,” your fingers dance over his chest, nails brushing softly as they land on his sternum, “your lounge set.”

“Is that why you want to take it off of me?” He asks, raising his brows, a lopsided smirk forming at his lips when he feels your fingers work his buttons undone.

You let out a soft chuckle. “Not necessarily.”

“Hm, fine,” he lets outs a soft whimper when you release the last button, pausing for a second to take in his reaction before your hand travels upwards, running over his toned abdomen. His skin is so tan – so golden, you salivate at the sight. “I’ll believe you.”

His pretty eyes fall shut, lids heavy as his focus fixates on the way your hands feel as they run through his skin – like wood to a fire, only making his own flame burn brighter for you. Hotter. Your hand settles over his chest, right on top of his heart and he’s positive you can feel it beating in your palm as his breathing starts to pick up at the promise of you.

Jungkook’s brain isn’t necessarily going places of where said promise will land. In fact, he didn’t really know what your words entitled when he agreed to them. But it sure as hell shocks him like a punch to the gut when he feels your touch faltering, hand falling lazily on his lower stomach as your movements follow and he immediately misses your proximity. In slight disbelief and disappointment, he opens his eyes, mouth instinctively forming a pout that doesn’t quite see completion when he sees you shifting your weight onto the floor, settling between his open legs. He nearly chokes on his spit, the peaceful trance your touch had him on long lost as you bite your lip, eyes pleading what your words don’t. You’re waiting – that innocent look masking your sinful thoughts as you leave his fate in his own hands.

And once again, Jungkook can’t deny you. Not when you look like that. Not when he’s craved you since the very moment he had his first taste of you – of that one thing he didn’t know he wanted so much. The one thing he dared think rationality could triumph, only to be hit with the realization that whatever magnetic pull draws you to him is bigger than him and all his self-control combined. So, he lets his hand cup your cheek, fingers closing around your jaw, skimming through your skin until his thumb presses on your bottom lip. You never once shift your gaze from him, even when his own travels to your mouth as it parts slightly, enough to let his thumb hook itself between your teeth as your tongue circles around it. His face contorts in pleasure, upper lip tugging up before his teeth pulls his bottom one in.

You lean forward, fingers running teasingly over the waistband of his pants.

He hisses, tummy caving in at the feeling. “Don’t tease,” he warns.

“I’m not. Just going slow,” you say, faux innocence lacing your tone.

His laugh is throaty and it hitches in his chest when he feels your palm close around the outline of his clothed cock. It throbs and thickens in your hold as you squeeze, gripping him firmly, a moan escaping his lips at the sudden contact. The sound lands right in the pit of your stomach and your fingers hook inside the waistband of his pants, tugging his briefs along as you drag them down until they pool around his ankles. His cock jerks as it sits across his pelvis and a deep groan ripples straight out of his chest as your hand wraps around it and your tongue licks a thick strip from base to tip before you’re hollowing your cheeks and sucking frivolously around the head.

“Ngh- fuck, baby. Fuck.” His voice is strained and raspy, hand tangling in your hair as he tugs on it slightly.

He feels even bigger around your mouth than he did in your hand, sitting heavy on your tongue as you rasp for air. Your hand pumps at his shaft, stimulating the places your tongue can’t reach as the tip moves in rapid, controlled movements over his frenulum, making him gasp – the airy little sound lilting at the end, turning into a moan.

Jungkook’s jaw clenches, breaths coming out erratically and his chest heaves as your mouth closes around his cock once again, head picking up pace at the push and pull of your mouth – the back of your throat tempting his tip more and more with every thrust.

“Like that, baby. Fuck. Take it all,” and that’s enough incentive for you to sink your warm mouth all the way in, making his cock pulse as you gag around the head a couple of times before your throat closes around it in swallowing motions. His mouth parts in a silent moan, eyes fighting to stay open as he feels the way your mouth suctions around him, sending him to heaven and back. He’s never seen anything so heavenly take on a lewd act like this – sin in your eyes, and sin in the way you moan in utter pleasure when you finally release his cock from the tight constraints of your throat, gasping for air as thick teardrops fall from your eyes all the way down your pretty face.

His thumb swipes them away. “You’re doing so well, baby. You’re so good, so fucking- mmm,” his praises are interrupted as you wrap your tongue around his tip, circling languidly as your eyes look up at him, pleading him to go on. “Feels so fucking good. You look so pretty with your mouth around my cock, angel.”

You moan, the vibrations making his hips buck and tighten his grip on your hair as you lower yourself on him all the way, repeating that same menacing action, only this time with more intention – determined to have him unravelling under you, milking his cock and taking him impossibly lower as you move your head in sharp little thrusts, accommodating him until your gag reflex is non-existent.

“Shit- don’t stop, don’t stop- you’re gonna make me cum, ___.” His head is thrown back, eyes tightly shut as he bites onto his lip with enough harshness to level him back into the moment, forcing him to look at you again. You’re a fucking sight to behold – that much his head can grasp in its hazy, fucked-out state. It confuses him slightly, how he can feel that tug in his heart whenever your eyes meet his and you hold his gaze, your pretty lips wrapped around his fat cock like the dream that you are. The way it makes his heart rate pick up until he can feel it travel to his stomach, the feeling lacing around the tight knot that forms there as he begins to tip over the edge.

That’s what makes him lose it – the total adoration he feels for you right this moment as you work his cock with your warm, wet tongue, reading him perfectly and complying. Completely surrendered to aiding his pleasure, his responsiveness only adding to yours. That insane need to feel you closer going beyond the physical as your connection deepens and he can feel it. He can see it in your eyes and he has no hints of a doubt you see it in his as you return that same adoration his gaze holds. His cock kicks against your tongue and he hisses out a moan, head falling to the side as he takes you in, mouth agape as that knot snaps inside of him.

“Baby, baby,” he warns, tapping his fingers gently on your cheek. You simply sigh, mouth full of him as you take him impossibly deeper. “Oh fuck. Ffuck- I’m cumming, I’m-”

You can feel the way his cock spurts string after string of his release, straight into your throat, cock twitching as you milk him – his moans only enticing you further as you swallow every last drop. Your tongue licks at his crown as you give his shaft languid pumps and his head falls forwards, mouth parted in awe as he rides the bliss you’ve just bestowed upon him. He’s absolutely wrecked but he doesn’t want you to stop – not even as his body cringes in oversensitivity and he’s whimpering, the hand in your hair tugging slightly as he pulls you away. He stares at you, intently.

“That was so good, baby. You’re so good,” he tells you, fingers caressing at your scalp.

“Koo,” you whisper, gasping slightly as he stands up, holding you by the arms as you follow and your knees give out once your feet touch the ground.

“Yes, baby?” His voice is low as he walks you backwards until your hands grip at his desk, one of his legs snaking between yours and pushing them apart until you’re sitting on top of the cold surface.

“I-I like to be good. For you,” your voice shakes, demeanour taking on a submissiveness that you find inevitable when he has you like this – legs trembling even though he hasn’t even touched you yet.

“Is that so, baby?” You nod. “I know you do. And you are,” he says.

“Y-yeah,” you sigh.

“And you know what?” He asks, fingers cupping around your face.

“W-what?”

“Good girls get rewards.”

You moan, audibly and loud, right in his face – lips parting as his grip around your jaw tightens. “Yes, please. I want you. I want you so bad,” you cry.

“Yeah, baby?”

“Yes.”

He brings your face closer to his, lips pressing against yours in a needy, sloppy kiss, tongue slipping inside your mouth and licking at your own as your teeth clink, heads leaning to the side. So wanting – so deeply surrendered to your impulses and the very root of your desires.

It lasts a good minute, the two of you bubbled up in your little world – the same one where boundaries come to die and slow takes on a new form. Where little exists besides you and him.

And the way it starts – slowly, tentatively – is not the same way it ends, as you’re abruptly taken out of the moment. The bubble bursting in a split second as both your phones ding repeatedly, the baby monitor notifying you Soori is in the early stages of waking up, signalling you have approximately three minutes to make it to the nursery before she’s fully awake.

“Fuck.” You say, hit with reality.

“It’s okay. I’ll go get her, don’t worry.” He reassures, his hand on your face taking on a softer touch.

“Okay. I’ll be right there in a minute.”

“Take your time,” he says before placing a soft peck to your cheek.

Slow is hell, yes. Even when it’s heavenly.

~

You do as he says and take your time in the bathroom. You comb through your hair, brush your teeth and even re-apply your mascara; you’d made a mess of it with his cock down your throat and the hefty splash of cold water you threw on your face as to calm down the buzz that still ran through your body.

The ache between your legs beats you, though. No idea on how to even begin to tame it down. At least not in an appropriate way.

You stare at the mirror – finally presentable from the outside but a whirlwind of chaotic sexual frustration on the inside that doesn’t really escape your eyes. You try to remember the breathing exercises feel-the-tingle-in-your-core lady has been trying to teach you for the past three days. They work – your heart rate finally calming down and breathing steading back to normal in inhale and exhale motions. You still feel the tingle in your core, though – and not the spiritual one.

When you finally make it out of the bathroom, the house feels eerily quiet and you assume Jungkook and Soori are in the kitchen. You fix your dress, taking a deep breath as you begin to make your way to them.

“Heeey,” Jungkook coos at Soori when you step into the kitchen. “Look who’s here, baby.”

Her big, round eyes are red and she sniffles back some crocodile tears, rubbing her little hands on her eyes.

“Hey, what’s wrong, princess?” You say, rounding the kitchen counter until you’re finally face to face with her.

“She woke up a little fussy. I think she had a nightmare.” Jungkook explains, lips smooching at her temple.

“Oh, no, baby girl. Do you want cuddles and Animal Planet?” You ask her and the soft of your voice is enough for her to fall straight into your arms. You hug her to you, gently swaying her from side to side when she nuzzles her head in your shoulder.

“I’ll be right there; I’m just heating up some noodles.” He tells you and you nod, making your way to the living room.

You get her nice and comfy, propping her up in the middle of the couch in her favourite pillow – the one she used to lay on when she was smaller, having now outgrown the habit as she becomes more mobile. She loves it nonetheless, though, and she lays on her side, face nuzzling against the plush fabric as she brings her pacifier to her mouth. Her fingers play with her little ears – something you notice she does to soothe herself.

You turn the Animal Planet on, relieved when you see today’s special is a documentary on sea turtles. Soori friendly – no lions devouring emus, as much as she seems to not mind it. You run your fingers over her silky hair and smile when she sighs at the feel of the comforting gesture.

Jungkook joins the two of you a minute later, sitting next to Soori as he watches the documentary intently – seemingly immersed in the importance to preserve the sea turtles. He slurps his noodles and you’re ashamed to admit the noise is doing you zero favours – everything just triggering that ball of tension in your gut.

“So,” he whispers when he’s sure Soori is fully engrossed in The Animal Planet. “Slow is hard.”

You scoff at the irony his sentence holds and Jungkook can tell you’re wind up. Not necessarily angry, just… frustrated.

“Yeah, you don’t say.” Is all you return, eyes still glued to the screen of the big TV.

“Are you… okay?” He asks and you hate how it immediately registers in your brain – what he’s referring to.

“Yeah, but can we please not talk about it?”

He doesn’t miss the way your thighs rub together for a second before you’re crossing your legs, breath picking up a notch. It sends a jolt straight to his gut and then south.

“I’m sorry, ___,” his voice sounds fallen and when you meet his gaze you notice his face is, too.

“It’s not your fault, Gguk. It’s okay. I just think that, maybe we should… figure this whole slow thing out because we seem to be awful at following whatever unspoken rule it entails.”

“Yes. Yes, I agree. That’s why I was thinking that maybe… we could go on a date.” His words are firm, like he just came up with the world’s brightest idea.

“A date?” Your voice gets that dreamy nature that characterizes you so well and, in that moment, he genuinely believes he has, in fact, come up with the world’s brightest idea.

“Yes. We said we wanted to get to know each other. I don’t think we’ve had much time to do that. And I want to do that – so, so badly, ___.”

“Me too.” You admit. “But I mean… how will that help? If anything, I think it’d just worsen our… situation regarding the slow.”

“I think that it’s a good step towards the right direction. Also, a good opportunity to actually take it slow – just enjoy each other’s companies. I like talking to you. I can do that for one evening, no problem.” You don’t miss the way his features soften, cheeks blushing at his sudden outburst of honesty.

You smile. “Okay, we can do that.”

“Why don’t you come over on Saturday? Soori goes down at 7. You can come over at 7:30 – I’ll cook.”

“Noodles?” You tease.

“Whatever you want, baby.”

“Done deal.”

~

Saturday rolls around faster than you’d expect considering the things we look forward to the most seem to be the furthest away. But, to your luck, this one breezes in – welcomed by none other than Elton John himself as he serenades you into wakefulness.

“Elton,” you say, still half asleep. “I’m going on a date today.”

You have a smile on your face, bringing the covers over you and cozying up in the warmth of your bed.

Your eyes snap open.

“Elton, I’m going on a date today.”

This time the statement takes on a less dreamy pitch. In fact, you sound straight up terrified. You can feel the butterflies take on their routine flight in your tummy – fluttering more erratically than usual.

The thing about Jungkook is that he has a way of making things feel so right. Your mind automatically eases itself around him better than with any failed attempt at meditating. When he says things, it’s always in such a reassuring manner – you used to think it was just the dad in him coming out. But in reality, you’ve realized he simply embodies confidence through and through.

When he suggested you two go on a date you didn’t hesitate once. And even though you tried to suppress it, you felt like a silly little schoolgirl at the prospect of seeing him in such context. On a date. Just the two of you.

It still feels right. So good. You’re excited, you are. But you also can’t help but feel nervous.

“Oh God, Elton. Help,” you don’t necessarily know why you’re asking for help but you’re also talking to Elton John, who keeps blasting Tiny Dancer through the speakers of your phone so, the cause was hopeless from the beginning. “Oh my God. What do I wear?”

You sulk for a minute longer in bed, finally deducting that the prior does no good.

It’s just a date.

In his home.

The one you’re highly familiar with.

It’s just Jungkook.

Fuck. It’s Jungkook.

You get out of bed, giving your head a little shake to finally wake your body up, deciding to finalize it with some coffee. You can smell it already – only a few steps away in your tiny, cozy kitchen, brewed by the heavenly hands of your loving best friend.

“Lucy Lu-” the sight before you cuts your song short as you yelp in surprise, definitely not expecting to see a shirtless Jimin behind your kitchen counter, coffee pot in hand.

“___!” He greets, shooting a big smile your way as he pours some coffee into your favourite jar, making you frown.

“Hi…,” you shouldn’t be surprised, he is dating your best friend after all. But you’re (secretly) dating his and this is all too close for comfort.

He’s talking but you’re not listening, too enthralled by your own train of thought. You only register his last words. “– Like Ggukie.”

“What.” It’s not a question.

“Um… your coffee? Iced Americano, right?”

“Oh. Yes. Yes. Thank you, you didn’t have to.” You say as you take the coffee from his hands, your favourite jar back in your possession.

“Headed to the library?” He asks, sipping on his warm cup of coffee.

“Yeah, in a little bit.”

“Was that Tiny Dancer I heard?”

“Yup. It’s better than Marimba.”

“You do have a point there,” he gives. “What are you doing later? Wanna catch a movie with us?”

You don’t lie.

You hate lying.

Not because you think lies will send you straight to hell the way your mom made you believe when you were growing up.

Simply because you do it so badly.

“No.”

“No?”

“I don’t want to catch a movie with you guys.”

“Oh,” Jimin is confused and it’s evident all over his face. You’ve never been anything but nice to him – in fact, at times it takes him by surprise just how nice you are.

“Yeah, sorry. I just hate the movies.” You add, because of course, why not make it worse with another awfully executed lie. Who hates the movies?

“Oh. Well, we can do something else? Maybe grab some dinner? Drinks? There’s this new pizza place Lucy has been wanting to try-”

“No, I’m… tired. From the week. I think I’ll have an early night tonight. Thank you for the offer though!” You slur the last of that sentence before you’re downing your coffee. Jimin winces, that’s definitely gonna kick in way too fast.

“No worries-”

“Gotta go get ready! Bye!”

You scurry the short steps back to your room, closing the door abruptly once you’re inside.

Jimin laughs.

He can’t help but wonder just why you would tell Elton John about your mysterious date tonight yet avoid telling him at all costs.

~

You and Jungkook’s front door have been through hell and back together. You can’t even begin to count the number of feelings your face has perfectly mirrored right in front of this very door.

Your eyes turn to the doorbell. You huff, laughing a little to yourself as you think of the first time you stood outside his home – in total awe, yet absolutely crucifying his use of top-notch technology on something so mundane like a doorbell.

You feel nervous. But you also feel so, so happy.

You don’t understand just why it’s taking you so long to press your finger into the screen and ring for him.

Because the anticipation is sweet, your heart tells you. Because you put on your favourite dress tonight – just for him. Because waiting the minute between ringing the doorbell and finally seeing him is going to be torture in the best way possible. Because you could write ten thousand poems on this moment alone.

You ring on the doorbell.

You let out a long exhale, swaying back and forth a little as you wait.

Your aforementioned prediction was wrong. It takes him much less than a minute to open his front door.

“Hi,” you tell him, voice sweet and an even sweeter smile following.

He doesn’t care that he’s probably acting a fool right now, just standing there – staring. He does it anyways. You look so beautiful. So soft and gentle. Your dress is silky, a pastel green colour that looks so good with the tan of your skin. It falls past your shoulders, tying at the middle of your chest. It’s a bit shorter than the ones he’s used to seeing you in and your duality hits him once again. Your hair cascades over your shoulders in soft curls – also a new sight for him.

He can’t help it when he speaks his mind.

“You are so beautiful.”

It’s not you look so beautiful in Jungkook’s book. No. You’re just beautiful and he wonders why he doesn’t greet you like this every day.

“So are you,” you tell him, a soft giggle passing your lips as you grow shy at his words.

His dress shirt is white and clean, but it takes on a more relaxed feel with the collarless fit and the soft blue of his jeans.

“Come in,” he says, stepping to the side as you walk inside his home. He notices you’re holding a knitted, yellow mesh bag. “What’s in there?”

“Oh!” You begin, excitedly. “I got Soori some books from the library. These are great to learn new words. And I got us dessert.”

“Thank you,” he presses a kiss against your lips, growing soft over the fact you still think about Soori, even when today is about you two.

“You’re welcome. Do you like peaches?”

“Yes, why?”

“Peaches and cream!” You say, bringing the bag closer to his line of vision as he makes out the plump shape of them.

“Don’t tell me you’re a fruit for dessert type of person.”

“Hey, they’re in season.” You argue, that pout he loves back on your lips. “Plus, don’t even start with me. You’re a cheese for dessert type of person.”

“What’s wrong with cheese for dessert?”

“I’d try to explain it to you but it’s a lost cause considering you’re also a lounge set type of person.”

He laughs, loud and airy, making your heart flutter at having that effect on him.

“I’m a sweet things for dessert type of person.”

“Yeah, yeah.” You joke as you follow his lead to the kitchen, hand in his. “It smells so good. What’s for dinner, Chef?”

He clears his throat. “Crispy honey orange glazed salmon.”

You gasp. “Oh me, oh my.”

“With my famous oven roasted rosemary potatoes,” he says, walking you closer to the oven so you can see them cooking. “Oh. And a kale and walnut salad.” He winks.

“Oh my God, you can actually cook.”

“It comes naturally,” he brags. “Well, that and a hidden passion for The Cooking Channel.”

“No, you don’t.”

“Yes, I do. Like me any less for it?”

You chuckle, walking closer to him. “Not one bit.”

Your kiss is soft, like your arms in his hands when they caress your skin. And for the first time since you’ve agreed on slow, Jungkook actually enjoys it. It makes something jump at his insides when he thinks about how it feels like tonight, he has all the time in the world with you.

“I thought we could eat outside? The weather’s so nice.”

“I’d love that.”

You help him plate the food – garnishing it a little the way Lucy has taught you and he gasps in surprise, genuinely paying attention as you ramble on about the wonders of little green leaves and how you like your food more when it’s photogenic.

“Please, stop reminding me you grew up with the internet,” he tells you, closing his eyes dramatically as you tell him about your secret food rating Instagram account.

“Do you like me any less for it?” You ask, mimicking his previous words.

“Not one bit,” he kisses you. “But stop reminding me.”

You laugh. “Let’s eat, dad. You’re lucky I don’t rate my friend’s foods – you’d be breaking under pressure right now.”

Even though he laughs at your remarks he doesn’t miss the way you say friends.

He doesn’t know exactly what feelings the word stirs inside of him but he finds himself pondering on it for a little longer than usual. Technically, he is your friend. It’s a twisted thought, all things considered, but he can’t really deny it.

Why does it make him feel slightly uneasy, then?

~

The set-up is simple but you don’t miss the romantic atmosphere that clouds upon the space.

Jungkook’s backyard is illuminated by dim, yellow lights. Besides the blue water of the pool that you can make out at the far end, not a lot picks up colour, enclosing the two of you in a comforting darkness. Two tall, white candles sit in the middle of the table – shining direct light onto the two of you, shadows dancing with the flames.

The food is delicious and the wine is rich with hints of sweet cherry and even though you’ve never gravitated towards red it slowly becomes your favourite – forever tied up to this memory.

“Why literature?”

Your answer comes without hesitation. “Why love?”

“Is all literature a work of love?”

“To some extent.”

“But some of it is about pain. Life. Loss. Anger.”

“All emotions romanticised in order to tell a story.”

He looks at you for a moment but you don’t shy away from his gaze once. He likes the courage you take on when you talk about the things you love.

“Do you write about me?”

That does it, eyes lost for a second before they fixate on the slow dancing flame of the candle in front of you.

“I do.”

“In what romanticised emotion?”

“All of them,” you sigh.

He smiles. “I wish I could write about you.”

“Why?”

“I think I’m understanding it now. The need to encapsulate memories in order to not forget them.”

“When a memory is good it never truly fades.”

“Yes, but when it feels like this you want to hold on to every last detail.”

“I’ll write about it. I’ll write enough words for the two of us.”

~

After dinner, you two take on different tasks to tidy up the kitchen as fast as possible. It’s nice, the conversation you had at the table never lost – just a more casual continuation of it.

Jungkook is funny, kind. At times he speaks with the wonder and softness of a weightless soul and your heart is still trying to digest that information – the notion that he is so lovable tugging at every last string.

“Wanna watch a movie as we eat your peaches and cream?” He asks, passing you a clean plate as you dry it with a towel.

“Keep up the attitude and I will eat them all.”

He chuckles. “What do you want to watch, baby?”

“Something scary.”

That takes him by surprise. “What?”

“Yeah!”

You begin reciting all of your favourite horror movies to him – a keen interest for the psychological thrillers.

“Ooh, ooh! Should we watch The Orphan? It’s about- no. I’m not telling you. I’ll ruin the whole thing,” you say.

He stares at you for a minute, slightly dumbfounded. “We can watch whatever you want.”

“The Orphan it is!”

~

Jungkook has never felt more on edge throughout a movie in his entire life.

And for someone who claims to love spooky movies (your words, not his) you sure do jump and shriek a whole lot through the majority of the film.

But, like a teenage boy, Jungkook enjoys how scared you get – taking advantage of it and wrapping you in his arms, keeping you safely tucked in his hold.

Your legs are thrown over his lap and your head rests on top of his chest and you’re all over. You’re all over and he loves it all. The way you smell and the way your voice resonates on his chest as you comment on the movie. The way your skin shivers when his hand moves mindlessly over your arm at times. It all feels so good to Jungkook. So right.

By the time the credits roll in, darkening the screen and the room, your bodies are tangled together. As the movie reached its climax, Jungkook’s body had fallen on top of yours, legs lacing around your own and head resting on top of your chest as your fingers ran through his scalp gently.

“That was wild. You watch this for fun?” He asks, body not moving an inch, completely melted under your touch.

You yawn, giggling a little at the way his words are muffled by the way his cheek presses on your chest. “Hey, you got really into it towards the end.”

“Yeah, because the orphan was a thirty-two-year-old, whack-out-of-her-mind loonie!” He looks up at you. “You sleepy?”

“A little. I should probably head home.”

“How are you getting home?”

“I’m taking the bus,” you tell him, fingers falling from his hair to his cheek.

“It’s late…,” his face softens. “You can always stay here.”

You pause for a second. “You sure?”

He is. Tonight proved a lot to Jungkook. New depths attached to his feelings that he slightly shies away from – the intensity throwing him aback. But nonetheless he gets a glimpse of them and at surface level. He enjoys them.

It also proved that you guys can be close without tempting slow in a dangerous way. I mean just look at the two of you – bodies lost in one another without crossing any lines.

“Yes, I’m sure.” He gives you a tender smile, his warmth leaving you as he gets up from the couch, hand outstretched for you to take. “Come on, let’s get you some warm clothes. We can watch The Cooking Channel to rub The loonie Orphan off.”

~

You stand in the middle of his closet, a bit overwhelmed by its grandness. You are shit at dimensions but you’re pretty sure it’s bigger than your room.

“How many black and white shirts can one person own?” You ask, eyes widening as he changes into sweatpants and an oversized white shirt.

“Just pick something already, baby.”

“You pick. And it’s okay if you want to give me your least favourite shirt – I’ve done that with my friends, too.”

There goes that word again.

He brushes it to the side, standing in front of the tall railings and rummaging through his clothes

“Here,” he says, passing you a soft, white hoodie and matching sweatpants.

“Thank- is this Balenciaga?”

“___, just put it on. Let’s go to bed.”

You oblige, discarding your dress and stepping into the sweatsuit, rolling the waistband a couple of times until they don’t fall around your hips, basking in the coziness of the oversized sweatshirt around your frame.

He stands in front of the sink, passing you an extra toothbrush and squeezing some toothpaste over the bristles before he does the same with his own.

You two just stand there, brushing your teeth and staring at each other on the reflection of the mirror, smiling quickly before both your eyes divert – suddenly shy at the intimacy of the action.

He’s done first, pressing his lips on your cheek before he exits the bathroom, letting you know he’s going to check on Soori one last time before bed.

Once you’re done, you rinse your mouth, staring at yourself in the mirror for a couple of seconds. If you let it, your mind will roam to faraway places, digging into every corner this moment holds. You don’t let it. Simply taking it for what it is and letting yourself enjoy it.

His bed is big and you don’t really know which one is his side so, a little dubious, you opt for simply sitting right in the middle of it, crossing your legs as you fidget with your fingers – waiting for him.

When Jungkook steps inside his bedroom, he makes a mental note to remember this sight.

He likes it a little too much, he realizes.

You smile at him when you see him and he returns it, walking towards the bed.

“Which is your side? Are you a one side of the bed person or an in the middle or a don’t really care-” you’re rambling, a tell-tale sign that lets Jungkook know that you’re nervous. He laughs, making you pout as you stop talking.

“Left side. You?”

You shrug. “I like the middle.”

His knees sink into the mattress as he walks himself closer to you.

“It’s all yours,” he says, coming to hover over you.

“T-thanks,” you look up at him, eyes meeting his.

“You’re welcome,” he tucks a strand of fallen hair behind your ear, his touch sweet. “You’re so pretty.”

“You’re really hot.”

Your honesty makes him laugh. “Is that all there is to me?” He teases.

You roll your eyes. “It’s not and you know it.”

His smirk is playful, contrasting the sweetness in his features. “You’re really hot, too.”

“Jungkook…”

“Tell me, baby.”

“I-I think we should play The Cooking Channel a-and go to bed n-now.”

He inches closer as you shuffle your body backwards slightly.

“Or what?”

“I’m not gonna want to stop.”

Out of every answer he could’ve expected the boldness of your choice of words falls far in the list. He raises one eyebrow at you, cocking his head to the side.

“I like you, ___. I like you so much.”

“I like you, too.”

“And I don’t want to stop either.”

Your hands fly to his stomach, fisting at the soft fabric of his shirt with force, pulling him towards you until he falls in between your legs, arms quickly holding his body from crashing against yours as they press on the mattress at either side of your head.

Once he’s got a steady hold on his body, he lowers his head to yours, lips finally finding your own – kissing you slowly and deep, savouring every stroke of your tongue as it finds his. Your fingers tangle on his dark locks, using the leverage to push him closer to you, every touch letting him know just how much you want him – how much you need him.

He pulls away, smiling a little at the way you whine when he does. His hands fly to the hem of his hoodie, pulling it up as you pull your arms over your head, making it easier for him to slide the fabric off of you. You’re not wearing a bra and it’s a pleasant surprise – one he doesn’t waste a second on as his lips close around your nipple, hand kneading at your other breast. Your back arches, a fistful of hair in your hold as you tug harshly, lost in pleasure. He hisses at the feeling, a deep groan following as he circles his tongue over the perk flesh.

Your hips raise from the bed, rutting into his as your desire begins to unravel further – a build up so slow until it snaps, bursting inside of you all at once, manifesting all through your body as it grows headier for him. He moans as your hips push into him once again, lowering his body to yours and pushing until you can feel every inch of him – legs spreading wider as you chase that friction, feeling his big cock thickening against your clothed pussy. You can feel his impressive girth and length even over the layers and the contact, paired with his incessant assault on your tits, has you moaning and squirming under him.

“Jungkook- please,” you beg, hazy minded.

He looks up at you, dark eyes meeting yours. “What do you want, baby? Tell me.”

“Y-you, please. Just- I need you.”

“You got me, baby.”

As soon as those words leave his mouth, his body begins to lower – lips attached to your skin as they travel from your chest, down your stomach that caves in at the feeling of his tongue as he trails a path of open-mouthed kisses until they finally reach just above the waistband of his sweatpants. His grin widens as he notices the scrunched-up fabric. You look down at him, wishing you could humour him yet too lost in how the sight of him between your legs like that will be engraved in your mind forever. You whimper – he looks so sinful, tongue running over his bottom lip as his eyes darken. Your hips buck involuntarily.

“Easy, angel.” He says, the timbre of his voice so deep it has you clenching around nothing.

You nod, lost for words as the anticipation builds up, making you grow excited as his fingers hook inside your pants. He brings your legs up as he comes to stand back on his knees, tugging at the fabric until they’re finally off and he’s discarding them, throwing them mindlessly to the side. Your legs are outstretched over his torso and his head turns to the side before he’s kissing your calves. Your chest flutters at the tenderness of the action, that gentleness never leaving him.

His hands run down the back of your thighs, sending goosebumps all through your body as you fidget under his touch, a faint whimper falling past your lips. He places your legs back on the bed gently, feet pressing on the mattress as your thighs fall open instinctively. He stares at you and there’s something in his gaze you’ve never seen before – a hunger that intimidates you, making you shy away from his darkening eyes, closing your legs quickly.

“Why do you hide, baby?” His hands rest on your knees, thumb running over them softly.

“I’m- embarrassed,” you say timidly.

“Why?”

“I-I’m so wet.”

“Oh, baby.”

He doesn’t miss another beat as his hands work your legs open, falling back to the bed on his stomach when you comply. You’re wearing a pair of silky white panties and once he comes face to face with your covered mound, he can see the wet patch that adorns the middle. He bites his lip, running a knuckle over it tentatively, pressing softly on your clit. He’s pleased when you squirm, hips circling under his touch, the prettiest moan escaping your lips.

“Let me fix it,” he says, looking at you.

You nod, carding your fingers through his hair, tugging on it a little as the air grows thick around you. Your panties follow the same fate as the rest of your clothes, joining the pile somewhere on his floor.

Jungkook moans. He moans when your legs open up for him, pussy in full display – lips plump and glistening from your build up arousal. His lips press over your slit in a soft but firm kiss that escalates as his tongue comes past it and licks a wet stripe right over your entrance all the way up to your clit, parting your folds open for him.

“Oh my God,” you cry, hands flying up, fist closing around the pillows.

You taste so fucking sweet on his tongue, your juices already dripping down his chin as his lips close around your clit, sucking on it until your legs are closing around his head and your hips are rutting against his face. He pulls away, a lewd sound resonating past his lips as your little nub throbs at the loss of his mouth. He parts your legs further, giving you a warning look as he does so. He settles back down between your legs, making you yelp as his tongue teases your entrance, pressing further with every lick between your folds.

“You’re so sweet, taste so fucking good,” he says, mouth never leaving your cunt.

“A sweet things for dessert type of guy, huh?” You muster one final ounce of wittiness before the feeling of his middle finger sinking into you has you crying out in pleasure.

“The sweetest fucking thing.” The sound of his voice right against your pussy mixed with the squelching as he attacks your heat doubles as pornographic, and has your eyes rolling to the back of your head.

He adds a second finger after a couple of pumps, mercilessly sucking on your clit – your walls swallowing his digits further with every stroke of that spot inside of you that has you dangerously close to the edge.

His fingers slide out of you, coming up to spread your pussy open for him until he can see your clit pulsing, swollen and exposed for him. You whine when he softly blows over it, the feeling so intense you’re afraid it’ll have you cumming in a second if he keeps it up. But Jungkook shows mercy – lowering his head and closing his lips perfectly around your engorged clit. You can feel it so much more intensely, every quick suck as he keeps your folds parted, giving him better access to that bundle of nerves.

“Oh- oh my fucking God. I’m gonna cum- fuck, don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop-”

You’re a mess, feeling delirious as you feel your body tensing at the wake of your orgasm.

“Do it, baby. Cum all over my tongue,” he coaxes, shoving two fingers inside of you as he wastes no time hooking up and pressing them against your g-spot as he feels your walls fluttering around them. “Cum all around my fingers.”

Your eyes snap wide open at the sudden intrusion and it’s about a second later that your orgasm spreads all through you in waves – pleasure settling in different parts of your body as you shake, pussy closing around his fingers in fast little pulses, so intensely he can feel it against his tongue. His movements never stop, pace only picking up as you cum, hard and loud.

“T-too much,” you say, body twitching as you begin to come down.

His body settles back between your legs, hands softly cupping your cheek as your body finally relaxes, falling into that post orgasmic bliss. He kisses you – slow and sweet, adding to the overall high that takes over you. You feel so good – every inch of your skin tingles slightly, mind still cloudy from the pleasure.

“Jungkook,” you purr and he hums against your mouth. “Fuck me. Please.”

“Fuck, baby. Those dirty words don’t match that pretty face,” he says, face falling to the crook of your neck as he breathes heavily.

There are many things Jungkook wants to do to you right now. About a thousand different ways he’d take you – especially when you sound so compliant, totally surrendered to him. But right now, he just wants you close. He wants to feel your body under him, to be able to run his hands all over it as he elicits those pretty sounds from your lips. He wants to be able to swallow them all.

“I’ll give you whatever you want,” he hums against your lips.

“Off,” you say, tugging at the hem of his shirt.

His body comes up, weight resting back on his feet as he takes his shirt off. He looks so soft like this – so dreamy. You don’t miss the way his demeanour changes, how that smirk turns into a lazy smile as he runs his hand down your leg until it lands back on your cunt. He fucks two of his fingers into you, the action has more intention this time as he scissors them inside of you, spreading your walls open for his cock. He bites his lip as he watches your face contort in pleasure, his dick jerking inside its restraints in anticipation.

He pecks your lips as his fingers slide out of you, crawling towards the edge of the bed as he comes to a stand. Your arm stretches in his direction, missing him already, pout forming at your lips as you beckon for him.

He chuckles softly as he bends over, rummaging through the second drawer on his nighstand. He stands back up, closing it with his knee as he throws a single foil packet and a bottle of lube on the bed.

You reach for both, your fingers playing with the condom wrapper as your eyes never leave him – watching intently as his fingers hook on the waistband of his sweats, pulling them down alongside his black Calvin’s, promptly kicking them out of the way before he’s crawling back to you.

He finds that spot back between your legs again, eyes locking with yours before he’s kissing you. You lean your head to the side, happy with how familiar you’ve grown with the rhythm of his lips. It’s intoxicating – the way it feels. So addictive as you push your tongue past his lips, running it over the back of his teeth, biting on his lip, sucking on his tongue. You’re greedy – needing to feel around him all.

He pulls away, settling back on his legs as he reaches for the bottle of lube, lathering some down the length of his middle and ring finger before he’s pushing them inside of you once again.

He presses on that spot, particularly sensitive after your previous orgasm and you hiss, hand closing around his wrist. “Stop, stop. You’re gonna make me cum again.”

“What’s so wrong with that?” His lips tug at the side of his mouth in a loopy grin.

“I want to cum around your big cock, Jungkook.”

“Fuck,” he presses on your spot again, “I love your filthy little mouth.”

You moan, eyes closing shut as you frantically pat on the bed at your side, looking for the condom you’d discarded on the sheets. Once you finally find it, you bring it to your mouth, pressing down on the round shape of the latex as you tear it open with your teeth.

“C’mere,” you purr and his body falls on top of yours once again, fingers still thrusting in and out of you slowly.

He whimpers when your small hand wraps around his cock, eyes falling to take in the sight. You pump at his shaft languidly with one hand, collecting his precum and spreading it around his length before your other one lowers, rolling the condom on, pinching at the tip slightly as you secure the latex around his base. He reaches for the bottle of lube once again, popping it open with his teeth before he lathers a generous amount onto his cock and down your slit, spreading it with his fingers. You’re so wet it’s starting to feel uncomfortable, but you know you’re going to need all the help you can get as your snug walls accommodate to his size.

His body lowers to yours, legs opening your own further apart as he lines his cock over your entrance.

“Ready, angel?”

You nod, arms snaking around his waist. “Go slow,”

“I will, baby.”

He kisses you one last time, lips hovering above yours as he begins to sink the head of his cock inside of you. You wince against his lips, the burn spreading all through your core as you take the first couple of inches. His thumb circles around your clit, easing the tension that builds around your body, helping you relax around him.

“You’re s-so big, Koo.” Your voice is a faint whisper that gets lost in between soft mewls.

“You’re doing so good, baby. So fucking good for me.” His voice is soft but strained and you can tell it’s taking all the strength in him not to ram into your tight cut as your walls swallow him in with every inch he sinks into you.

He’s so thick and you feel so full, arms tightening around his waist and toes curling at the sharp pain of having him fully inside of you as he bottoms out.

“Oh, f-fuck. You feel so good around me, fuck.” He praises, lips pressed to your cheek as his breath quickens.

You kiss him, hips raising up after a while to meet his and he hisses into your mouth at the feeling, pulling out slowly only to thrust back into you as he begins to spread you open with his cock with every push and pull. The pain starts to dance around with pleasure as his pace picks up, both your moans getting lost in one another’s as his forehead presses onto yours – face to face with every single expression and every little sound his thrusts emit out of you.

“I l-love your cock. I love your cock s-so much, Jungkook. Fuck- God,” your words drag out, pausing every time you feel him impossibly deep, his tip hitting against that spot perfectly and you moan out his name every time his cock pistons into you, pressing against it.

Your little pussy is so wet and warm – only getting tighter the more Jungkook fucks you open and it dawns upon him in that very moment that he’s officially tasted you, has you in a way that will make it very difficult not to crave you constantly. Want you, always.

“Ffuck, baby. Mine. This pussy was made for me.”

His words make you free-fall right into your second orgasm of the night – ripping inside of you so suddenly and with such ferocity it has the both of you gasping. Your mouth parts in a silent moan, throwing your head back in utter pleasure. He groans as he feels the way your fingernails press on the warm skin of his back, the sharp pain trailing all the way down until your hands land on his ass, pressing him deeper into you.

“Fuck, what was that-” He hisses in total disbelief, so lost in your pleasure. You clench around him once more as he sinks deep into you. “F-fuck I’m gonna cum, baby. You’re gonna make me cum.”

“Cum for me, please. Please.”

Your eyes are glazed over, tears falling from the corners as you look up at him. He loves how receptive you are – how pleasure takes on every part of you. He loves how your face mirrors exactly what he’s doing to you and he loves the little whimpers that fall in between your words when you’re begging for him. When you speak your mind – filthy little words coming past your red lips, so swollen from your teeth and his sinking into them.

You watch him, fighting with your heavy eyes to stay open as his face scrunches up in pleasure and a raspy moan leaves his lips, breaths coming out in frantic little puffs as he rides the waves of his orgasm and spills into the condom – so much fucking cum you swear you can feel it.

“Oh my God,” he speaks against your neck, the vibrations sending shivers down your body.

Your fingers play with the soft hairs at the back of his neck, your other hand running lazily over his back as his body grows limp on top of yours. He feels heavy but you don’t mind it, enjoying his warmth – wanting nothing more than to have him this close for as long as you can.

You smile, listening to the little sounds he makes as his body relaxes and sleep begins to tempt him. He’s so warm, so soft as he lets you hold him like this. It almost feels like his two bare hands were taking a hold of your heart, cradling it ever so tenderly and squeezing it all at the same time.

He’s still inside of you and he knows it’s only a matter of seconds before he’s going to have to pull away. So, he lets himself enjoy whatever eternity those seconds hold, nuzzling his face on the crook of your neck – lips right against it and all it takes is a soft pout for them to press on the soft skin.

He feels safe in your arms.

It’s then that you realize that all this time you were separating two things that walked hand in hand, together.

Jeon Jungkook is peace.

And you welcome it.

~

what just happened lol? i’m fucking screaming. I truly hope u enjoyed!!!!!!!!! pls they’re falling in love right under our noses. in this country home of sex n love n magic. do let me know what u think bc i love loving on u guys back <3333333 thank u for making it this far w me! it means the world <3

~

★taglist★

@roro-in-utopia @yiyi4657 @littlrmills14-blog @namjooningelsewhere @drownforryou @iwanttohitmyself @finelinememories @yukiehyukie @shatzkrinslinzki @bts-fic-recs-mess @kokoandkookie @subtlepjiminie @girl-meetsevil @kookiesbreaky @di0rgguk @bloopkook @babyrosieareroses @kookiecrumb @casspirit0705 @eclectictacozinewobbler @tickledpink55 @rjsmochii @dimcorner @miniiimee @vintageroses10 @amyniu @tessxblxckthorn @emotionaltrashcansblog @fangirl125reader @laurynne5 @thickgrinch @dianaxnyc @ruinsofangels @berryonasummerevening @taeslarityy

Late Supper (Jungkook x Reader)

Contains: Smut (Oral, fingers, dirty talk, unprotected sex); Language; Fictional representations of existing person(s); a little angsty I guess. 18+

Summary: Just a quick JK x Reader one-shot because it was brought to my attention that our Golden Maknae has no love on my blog thus far. Tiniest bit of plot, established relationship, hungry and very unpunctual Jungkook.

Word Count: A bit over 3K.

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Burning Love (Prologue)

Pairing: Jungkook x reader

Genre: Fluff, smut, angst.

Au: Exes au, CEO Jungkook.

Warning: mentions of alcohol.

Rating: 18+

Summary : Jungkook was your first love, your high school sweetheart, whom you continued to date throughout college, well maybe not throughout. Three months before finishing college, he decides it wasn’t worth it. Six years later, you’re far away from South Korea, working for a small company. What are the chances that the big multinational company that ends up buying the company you’re currently working for is owned by none other than Jeon Jungkook?

Word count: 787

A/n: This is my first work here, give it a chance. If you like it please let me know, reblog it and follow me. Thank you!

The environment you’re currently in would have been uncomfortable for you even a few months ago, but now you’ve gotten used to it. You’d not go as far as to say that you enjoy it, because you don’t, but at least you don’t hate being here. It is what it is. It’s not like you have a choice anyway.

Working as a software programmer for FCS or Felix Consultancy Services had its perks such as good pay, friendly co-workers and you were confident when it came to anything computer related, so the job was enjoyable.

What however was a con of your job, at least according to you, was attending these mid-year parties, which had a little bit of everything.

Your company wasn’t necessarily big but was a reliable one and the services it provided were used by more or less all big companies in the states. As a result of which your company was always invited to these parties.

You don’t have anything against it but you were not a fan of socializing with people,but, being the head of your department, talking to potential investors was inevitable.

Needless to say, that was tiring.

You head towards the bar, you cannot afford getting drunk but some temperance drink would do the job.

Keep reading

In Your Time

Pairing: shy jungkook x reader

Genre: established relationship, angst, fluff, hurt/comfort

Summary: You and Jungkook want to take your relationship to the next level, but it turns out Jungkook is not as ready as he thinks he is.

Warnings: jungkook is a virgin, mentions of smut, insecurity, self-deprecation, jungkook goes through it a little bit

Word Count: 2.3k

A/N: thank you @kookingtae for beta reading and helping me edit this <3

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—prologue: october sky

this is a part of my an ode to a broken heart drabble series.

pairing: jeon jungkook/reader

genre: unrequited love, best friends to (?), heavy angst, future smut

word count: 751 words

summary: it’s october, the sky today is clear and cloudless, just like your love for certain raven-haired boy. first is abnormality, second - a cruel reality.

chapter one

Keep reading

crush

filed under. i totally forgot i wrote this. also i like the name eunmi sue me 

notes. thank you to @lonelyending for reading thru this crusty story and making me feel good enough about it again to post it. also @suga-kookiemonster bc im pretty sure i sent u this like a year ago and u told me to post it it but….i forgot abt it shdgjsgd. writing/life in general has been hard recently so pls accept this kookfic to hold yous over until i update just one

genre. fluff, light comedy, light angst, smut

warnings. smut (oral sex: f receiving, penetrative unprotected sex) 

length. 5.1k

the first thing jungkook thinks when he sees you is wow.

he hasn’t been up for very long, and you don’t even know he’s looking at you through the window. yoongi-hyung has wrapped you up in his arms as you sob and sob, muted behind the protective hospital glass. even with messy hair and wet eyes he’s starstruck. it’s why he recoils slightly when jimin and namjoon explain to him that you’re his wife.

“my,” he can’t even say the word. “my…”

“your wife,” namjoon repeats. “you know what a wife is, right? marriage?”

“yes,” jungkook huffs, digging his nails into his scalp. “i lost my memory, hyung, not my fucking brain cells." 

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feed me, fight me.

pairing.  boxer!jjk x f!reader.  rating.  explicit.  tags.  relationship issues, baby angst, comfort, unprotected sex (please be responsible!).  wc. 3.5k.  beta reader.  @hobi-gif​, always.  💖  author note.  i’m really into comfort fics rn so… 

What do you get when you mix a pissed off girlfriend with a neglectful boyfriend?  (Aside from trouble, that is.)

The answer is you - throwing punches far harder than you should be, completely disregarding the fact that you’re meant to be playing the part of perfect partner, meeting pads in the sequence he’s laid out.  It’s you throwing a hook when you should be swinging an uppercut.  It’s you, snapping your leg out with a satisfying thunk! of your shin when you should only be thip kicking.  It’s you, not giving a single damn as you take out all your frustrations on someone who’s growing increasingly more irritated by your childishness.  It’s you, blatantly disrespecting him in his ring - sending a reminder that there’s more to life than the four corners of this space. 

How can he blame you though, when he’s the reason?  When you’ve voiced your annoyance more than once - more than twice, more times than you care to count - and each time it’s met with a half-hearted apology (if you could even call it that)?  How can he hold it against you when you’ve asked, demanded, pleaded for more? 

“Cut it out,”  he seethes, quiet, under his breath, irritation igniting his expression, something hot and angry burning in the dark of his stare.  A withering wildfire in an empty field, smoldering coals flickering bright.  It presents itself in how his mouth curls, the hard line of his jaw as bone threatens to snap in half from the tension. 

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Tangled Thoughts | jjk

“It wasn’t easy to leave your boyfriend of two years, but the constant lies made you question your relationship. You tried to move on, but you were somehow constantly tangled in his web. After being captured by an unknown, yet familiar, enemy, Jungkook wondered if he was doing the right thing by keeping his secret identity from you. Was it too late to come clean?”

🕷️ Pairing: spiderman!Jungkook x ex!Reader (f)

🕷️ Genre: exes to lovers, marvel au, crime~, angst, action/adventure

🕷️  Warnings: shooty bang-bangs (guns), slicing and dicing (knives), blood, hint of sexy time at the end, cursing, people get boo-boos (injuries), kidnapping, explosions, pow-pows (fighting)

🕷️ Word count: 10.5k

🕷️ Author’s note: I wrote this last night after spending all day reading every Spider-Kook fic I could get my hands on. I was not planning on creating this haha but… I love Jungkook. I love Spider-Man. It’s only right for me to contribute to the Jungkook spider-verse. I’ve never written a Spider-Man fic, so hopefully, it flows alright! 

Disclaimer: NOT ALL CHARACTERS ARE REPRESENTED AS HOW I SEE THEM OR REFLECT THEIR REAL-LIFE ACTIONS OR PERSONALITIES. THIS IS FICTIONAL. 

(Update Jan. 17, 2021: I have redacted Hobi as Ironman. He will not be in this story because I have other plans for our sunshine in future chapters. No, I am not anti-Hobi. Please don’t even go there. This is just what happens when you write a story spontaneously without planning out the storyline. Hoseok will appear in an upcoming chapter.)

my spiderkook-verse (SBaFL)  | main masterlist

The air in the room felt thick. Your body was jittery and you couldn’t stop your eyes from dancing around the room. Anything was better than looking at him.

Jungkook, your latest ex-boyfriend of two years, sat in your desk chair across from you. While you could tell he was timid, he was less so than you. You weren’t sure why you even agreed to meet with him. It’s been a little over a week since you last saw him. You hated the way your heart still ached at the sight of him—hated the way your body yearned for his gentle touch on your skin. You hated that you wanted him back as soon as he came to you again. You hated how weak you were for him.

“I- I wanted to apologize,” he spoke after what felt like hours, though it was only a minute of silence in reality. You kept your gaze averted, inwardly rolling your eyes. Wanted to apologize for the hundredth time and not mean it. When you didn’t reply, he continued. “I know I have already, but… Argh,” he huffed, annoyed at his own lack of words.

“Why are you really here, Jungkook?” For the first time since he arrived, you looked at him straight in the eyes. His round, dark brown globes were filled with anxiety and hopelessness. The pain in your chest from seeing such a sorrowful expression made you want to wrap him in your arms and tell him everything would be okay. 

But it wouldn’t be.

Keep reading

to build a home | chapter six

pairing: Jungkook x reader. ceo!jk + dilf!jk x nanny!oc

genre: strangers to lovers. angst. loads of plot. fluff. smut.

word count: 10.7k (lol)

warnings: swearing. straddling. dry humping. fingering. handjob. jungkook big cock. cum – loads of cum. moment of silence bc i didn't write angst once in the warnings.

author’s note: well, surprise! what did I tell y’all about the countryside huh. It does things to me. I love this chapter. I don’t want to give much away but… it’s so soft. and then no it’s not!!! it’s hella hard 🤠. I’m sending a million kisses your way. thank u for all the love always – it means the world!!!! xxxx <3

p.s. happy three weeks of tbah. thank u for being here.

This is a work of fiction. Please respect the members and their privacy. x

Texts in bold + italic resemble a recollection of past events.

Chapter Six

In all your years as designated romantic of your generation you’ve come to pick up on patterns that best describe the feeling of falling in love. Now, you’ve grown close. You’ve fallen, never quite landing in love but you’ve fallen enough to have lived through a couple of said patterns yourself.

Free-falling, now… that’s a different thing.

Songs and poems – black and white movies. They all do a beautiful job at portraying something you always found a bit silly, as much of a romantic as you are. They fixate on this idea that the world seems rosier when you’re falling in love – that you see things in a different light. Take in the world in a different way. That one day you feel love and the next you wake up and your commute to work is brighter; friendly faces and fresh flowers everywhere. They make us believe that love is the door that opens our eyes to the wonders of the world. And as unbelievable as it seems… you can’t deny it.

You see it.

You feel it.

You lay in the grass after a Sunday stroll with Lucy that ended up turning into a picnic. She’s singing along to some love song, swaying her head from side to side as she hums – something about the world ending and no other way that I can spend it. You’re about to full on judge her for playing Justin Bieber but an absentminded smile tugs at her lips and the sight alone is sweet – not to mention the fact that you know exactly which smile put that one on her face.

You smile, too.

You’re not too far off. You look up at the sky again. So far, you’ve made up five shapes in the sea of endless clouds above you. The very abstract outline of a strawberry. A dove – yeah, it’s missing a wing but it’s a dove alright. Two blurry faces leaning against one another, one a bit taller than the other. A croissant. And last but not least, an angel. It’s still up there – face formed by faint specks of white cloud, a perfect halo on top and big wings at his sides.

You try to look for your strawberry, only the shape now resembles a liver more than anything. You wince – it’s love.

You feel it in every song, in the cup of coffee you had this morning. In the yellow dress you’re wearing – the same one you wore the first day you met him. You smile, having had no idea of just what you were getting yourself into back then. Remembering just how much of a mistake it all felt like when you sat there, opposite him, as he teared apart at your every ounce of confidence. He was right – mistakes can be…

“What’s all the grinning for?” Lucy’s voice breaks you out of your pensive state.

The best thing to ever happen to you.

“Him.” you reply, simply. “You?” you roll over to your side to face her, head resting against your arm.

“My him.” She giggles. “What exactly, though? Still digesting yesterday?”

You shake your head. “No. Or yes. I don’t know. Maybe…”

“It’s good, ___. I think what he did was very brave.” She says.

You nod your head, that soft smile back where he left it. “Me too. I don’t think I’m over thinking it. It’s just that…”

“You can’t stop thinking about it.” Her grin is mischievous, knowing.

You roll back, the grass feels cooling against your arms. “Yeah,” you sigh, a bit more dreamily than intended.

The silence is comfortable and you welcome it as you both lean against the tall book shelf in your impromptu seating position on the floor. You stretch your legs in front of you, fumbling a bit with the rings on your fingers and he taps his feet repeatedly in a slow motion – eyes fixated on them.

“So… good mistake or bad mistake?” You say, breaking the ice that feels everything but cold.

Jungkook smiles to himself. No trace of a mistake roaming around in his mind. Just you and your lips against his.

“Good. Just good.”

“Good.” You bite your lip, unsuccessfully holding back a smile. “What now?”

Jungkook waits for the nerves to hit – the regret. But it doesn’t come.

“I guess… I mean, fuck. There are so many things that I still have to… heal from, or whatever my therapist says. I don’t- I would never want to lay that on you, though.”

You nod, taking his words in. A bit surprised at his sudden ability to communicate.

He grabs your hand in his, squeezing it lightly. “But… you. I don’t want to run from you anymore.”

You turn to him, giving him a tender smile. “I don’t want you to run from me either. We can take it slow… there’s no rush. I want to know you- really know you. At whatever pace you set.”

“I want to know you, too.” You shy at his words, gaze looking down at where your hands entwine. “We can… ease into it. I mean, I still have to get over the fact I’m five years your senior.”

You try with all your might but you break, snorting at his words, trying to keep your laughter at a library-friendly volume.

“What’s so funny?” He asks, voice serious but a grin forming at his lips, too.

“Sorry, sorry. That is- preposterous, sir.” You tease, “only add like… fifteen years to that and you could be my father.” You feign shock.

His hand comes up to your face, covering your mouth with his hand as he tries to control his own laughter. “Please don’t say that.”

You laugh. “Sorry, sorry.” He can feel you pouting against his palm. “Jungkook,”

“Yes?”

“I- I can’t wait. To know you, I mean.”

His fingers lace around yours once again, a soft, genuine smile when he says, “Neither can I.”

~

The aroma of fresh coffee fills the air and complemented with the bright sunlight coming through the big window it adds to the overall heavenly atmosphere the morning holds. It’s a Monday and you’ve never felt keener to get out of bed and kickstart the week.

And yes, your commute to work was brighter and filled with friendly faces. Fresh flowers, too. In fact, they sit on top of the kitchen counter – three pretty sunflowers, tall and proud. You always did think the sleek, white space was in need of some oomph – key word for: love. So, you took the liberty. Mrs. Chae held them as if they were a newborn baby, excitedly placing them in a vase with some fresh water.

In front of you, is your breakfast masterpiece – a bright smoothie bowl for Soori who has taken on a passion for, well, all sorts of fruits. You place the neatly cut wedges on top, adding some granola to it. And Cheerio’s. A bit of an odd combination, yes, but the kid loves her Cheerio’s. You cut the strawberries into a heart shape, just like Lucy taught you that one time you were helping her garnish a fruit tart. Everything is more interesting for Soori if it takes on a fun shape and you easily comply – testing your creativity to make life just that more fun for her.

Right on queue with your train of thought, you hear her distant baby babble that grows louder and louder the closer she gets to the kitchen. Your gaze snaps to the direction of the entrance, excited to see her.

Jungkook comes into view – body slightly bent over and waddling a bit before his own gaze comes up, eyes landing on yours as he gives you a warm smile. You return it, frowning slightly when you realize there’s no Soori in his arms, even though you can hear her. He giggles softly, looking down, a proud look to his face. You round the kitchen counter, hands coming to cover your mouth when you see her. Her tiny fists hold onto Jungkook’s middle and index fingers, her short little legs moving rapidly in-between jumps and steps. She’s wearing pink Carhartt overalls with a white baby tee underneath. The tiniest pair of Chuck Taylor’s you’ve ever seen on her speedy feet.

“Oh my Goodness! Look at you, Soo.” You fall to your knees and she shrieks once you come into eyesight, walking towards you excitedly with the help of her dad who still holds her by her tiny hands. Once she’s in your arms, he lets go. You hold her to you, wrapping her in a hug, kissing her chubby cheeks. “That was so good, princess. You did so good!” You coo and she giggles, open mouth returning your kisses – a sloppy slobber all over your face but you don’t care.

“Pretty cool, huh?” Jungkook says, looking down at the two of you, his heartbeat picking pace slightly at the sight. “Yesterday she stood all by herself for 3.7 seconds.”

“What? No way, Soo.” Your baby voice is on and she jumps in your arms. You pull her closer to you. “That’s amazing, bub. You’re going so fast. Too fast,” you pout, surprised by how much you’ve seen her grow in such a small amount of time.

Soori’s hands come to rest at either side of your face – Jungkook thinks about how much it resembles the way he holds her before he showers her with kisses. She’s starting to mimic everything he does and when she leans her face forward and leaves another set of open mouth kisses against your nose his chest flutters – a feeling he can’t quite explain. All he knows is that it feels so light. So right.

“Good morning,” he says finally as you get up from your kneeling position on the floor, Soori in your arms as you place her on the crook of your hip.

“Morning,” you return, a smile forming at your lips at the sight of his. You let yourself get lost in his face, because you can. He looks so ethereal in the mornings. You notice he’s not wearing his usual dress shirt and slacks, having opted for a much more casual look in blue jeans and a flowy blue shirt, the first three buttons tentatively open, exposing his tan skin. “Is it spirit day at the office?”

He scoffs at your teasing, playfully rolling his eyes. “No. Not going to the office today, actually. Well- technically I am. I have to go oversee some renovations at the hotel.”

“Oh…”

“It’s in a location by the river. My parents are actually there at the moment. Staycation and whatnot. So, I’m bringing Soori with. And you.”

Jungkook sees Mrs. Chae’s eyes widen at his words – specially the last ones. He walked right into that one though, he’ll admit that much. He clears his throat before he adds, “as in, you know- Soori. For Soori. If you don’t mind.”

You chuckle slightly, biting at your tongue. “Of course. Let’s fill her tummy and we can go.”

He nods, not missing the glint in your eyes and your playful smile before you turn around.

You’re wearing a pretty white dress, the fabric hugging your waist perfectly before flowing at the bottom. Just like Soori, you’re wearing a pair of white Converse. He walks himself right into that dreamy thought, too. Only this one he did purposely.

It’s going to be a long day.

And for the first time in a long time, he looks forward to it.

~

Jungkook and you divide the task of getting Soori strapped into her car seat – you keep her distracted by letting her fidget with your fingers and he works the harness around her chest and tummy, pulling on it until he’s sure she’s safely tucked in.

“Hey, you’re so good, baby.” He coos at her, pride swelling in his chest at her mellow behaviour. She smiles, holding at his finger and pulling him closer. She has a tight grip on yours too.

Jungkook smacks his lips against Soori’s cheeks, earning himself a giddy giggle from her. She scrunches her little nose when he kisses down her neck, tickling her. She tries to push him away, never once letting go of her hold on your fingers, bringing your hand to Jungkook’s face as her loud snickers fill the car. They’re contagious and soon enough, the three of you are laughing.

“Does Soori have tickles?” You ask her, free hand coming to poke at her sides as she jumps and screeches at the feeling.

“She’s so ticklish.” He says, coming up for air for about a second before he dives right back in, nuzzling his face in the crook of her neck. She kicks and screams, full-on cackling now and you can tell that it’s not gonna be too long until she gets fed up. Her hand comes up to either side of Jungkook’s head and you tug at his hair slightly. “Hey, hey. That’s enough. She’s going to run out of smiles and then what do we do.”

Jungkook laughs, heart wrenching at your sweet voice that you reserve just for her – liking how you use it on him, too. “Never,” he says, landing one final kiss on top of her head before he straightens his body. You settle into the seat next to Soori and he frowns, saying, “what are you doing?”

“What do you mean,” you return, confusion in your words.

He bites back a chuckle, a grin adorning his face. “Come sit at the front with me.” It’s more a statement than it is a question and he sees you hesitate, eyes zeroing down on Soori’s hand around your fingers and then back to him. “She’ll be fine, come on.”

You hesitate for yet another second before you’re exiting the backseat of his sleek car, making your way to the passenger’s seat. You both get in at the same time and you watch as he gets comfortable, starting the engine and maneuvering the steering wheel as his free hand flies behind your headrest, body twisting slightly as you exit the parking space. Soori whines in the backseat, something awfully close to Da before she breaks out in unintelligible babble. When he glances at her she’s looking at you, small face scrunched up in disappointment.

“Hey, you. We can share, okay? Let daddy have her for a minute?” Soori diverts her eyes, gaze already focused on whatever is going on outside the window, bringing her pacifier back to her mouth and suckling on it.

You giggle. “She’s growing at speed lighting. She’s full on trying to talk now. And walk!”

“I know. We already made a made a pact though – she’s not allowed to do either when I’m away at work.”

“I imagined she agreed to it right away?” You tease.

“Of course. She’s loyal like that.” He looks in the rear-view mirror, smiles when he sees her eyes on him. He turns to you, “how are you feeling?”

“Good. Very good.” You say, a bit sheepishly. “You?”

“Me too,” a lopsided grin forms on his lips and the sight has you weak at the knees.

“Did Taehyung pick up on it?”

He turns to you for a second, a look on his face that says what do you think. “Did Lucy pick up on it?”

“Touché,” you say, “is that… bad?”

“No. They might tease me a bit but they wouldn’t do anything to make me feel uncomfortable before I’m ready to talk about it. Taehyung and Jimin, though… they just have a sixth sense for that stuff. So, it’s hard to keep it a secret.”

“So, we’re a secret?”

He looks at you briefly, an apologetic look to his face. “Does that bother you?”

You smile, reaching for his hand that rests on his thigh. “No. I think it’s the smartest thing to do. At least until we… figure us out, I guess. I am your nanny after all.”

“Nope. You’re her nanny,” he says, motioning to Soori. “You two can talk business later.”

You laugh, playfully swatting his leg. Before you can move away, he’s locking your hands in his hold – intwining your fingers together. It’s all so overwhelmingly good. The lightness to his mood, the witty jokes, that relaxed expression taking over his face. His hand on yours – finally. You missed it, the feel of his skin. The butterflies it sends to your tummy, the warmth it radiates. You could give up on a steady heart rate any day if it meant experiencing the euphoric feeling of having him close.

“Jokes aside,” he starts, “I wouldn’t want her to… lose you.” His face falls, so evidently that you don’t miss it. You can feel it – the way his head is being swarmed by intrusive thoughts right now. Full of bad news. Uncertainty. Fear.

You squeeze his hand. “I know we have a long way to go of… figuring things out. But she’s important to me, too, and I wouldn’t jeopardize that either. I wouldn’t take that leap if I… if I wasn’t sure. About you. About wanting to try. And getting to know you.”

He only nods. His silence makes you feel uneasy, like maybe you pushed too far, said something that would put him in a compromising position. You know his walls are high and even though the full story is still unknown to you, the pieces you do have form a painful puzzle.

So, you don’t say anything – giving him enough space to process things in his own time. Understanding that trust is a tricky thing when broken. Like a mirror, it reflects on everything that stands its way – morphing our own truths, making us feel unbelieving, undeserving.

And as much as you want to pour all the love that brews inside of you onto him at once – to have him know he’s got you; you figure the best thing you can do is to not aid that reflection further by imposing your own fears onto it. Fear doesn’t cancel out fear but understanding does.

Understanding, you conclude, can sometimes be stronger than love.

~

Growing up, you were always in a constant state of praise. From your teachers, your parents – hell, even your friends. There was something so captivating to the people around you about how collected you were, how dedicated and applied. Back then, of course, your world was smaller and your priorities didn’t go as far as making sure you excelled in school, volunteered at your local church to put a smile on your mom’s face and be someone your small group of friends could rely on.

So, needless to say, self-control was easy. You used to believe promiscuity was simply a side effect of hormonal angst and not having enough to do. Thankfully, you were exempted. Not from the hormonal angst, no. In fact, sex was always something you felt drawn to in literature and art. But as for not having enough to do, that just wasn’t your case.

And even when a lot of these beliefs went away along with your naivety you still remained somewhat good at keeping desire cool, calm and collected.

But you’re only human.

And only so strong.

You feel like the universe is playing a silly little number on you now – making you pay for whatever twisted wave of superiority you rode as a teenager. It was probably induced by spending too much time volunteering at the church and cringing at the descriptive way in which your heart and road to heaven would be corrupted by having pre-marital sex, courtesy of the nun that taught your bible study group.

Your body shudders, cringing at the memory alone.

Your eyes divert to said silly little number – sporting that perfectly fashionable baby carrier of his, a sleeping Soori flushed to his chest, as he talks business. And you’re speaking business. Casually blurting out numbers that don’t make mathematical sense to you because how does money even work? Correction: how does money even work like that?

He walks alongside the architect as they review plans, numbers, paperwork, strategy – you name it, Jungkook seems to have the lead on everything. It takes you by surprise when he takes a hold of the pencil and tweaks at the paper plan, adding to the perfect drawing of what will be the new rest & relaxation space. In simpler words, a spa. With all the luxury amenities, in perfect tune with the whole essence of the hotel.

The hotel alone surprises you, not having expected the paradisical feel to it. It felt like a small oasis, only twenty minutes away from the city, surrounded by so much green and crisp, fresh air. You’d passed by The West End multiple times, the one in the city, that is. A tall, glass building that spewed modernity and money just by being in its close vicinity. This West End though, as luxurious and modern as it was, had a more relaxed feel to it.

Jungkook seems to be exceptionally involved with this one, that usual passion he carries about his business soaring just a tad higher. To you, it feels like this one in particular hits close to home and you wonder why. He gets visibly excited when the architect retrieves his iPad, showing him a colourful digital visual of what’s to be the final outcome. Soori fidgets slightly in the carrier and he puts a hand to her face, caressing gently in a soothing manner, making sure his voice goes back to its normal pitch. She’s full-on teething now and her discomfort is painful to watch, especially for Jungkook. So, when nap time came and she wanted nothing more than to be held by her father it came as a no-brainer to him – always taking advantage of whatever time he can have with her during the week.

And this right here is just why you think the universe is playing games with you. Torturous, evil games. Because no, that goody-two-shoes behaviour didn’t last a month in university. You, of course, not only matured and fell victim to the freshman fifteen but also navigated through your sexual awakening in a, needless to say, healthy manner.

But Jeon Jungkook is hormonal angst mixed with three out of the seven deadly sins and you have no desire to repent.

If the pull that draws you to him was only physical then you’d make do. Brave it like a good girl and impose that self-control that carried you through your innocence. But the tension that builds in your body for him happens to go slightly beyond just the physical.

It’s his mind, too. That big brain of his, oozing intellect left and right – how effortlessly it comes to him to lead, persuade and gain people’s trust. How everyone that works for him respects him for all the good reasons, as opposed to fear. How he puts his all in whatever it is he does, perfecting it until his interest wears off and then he moves on onto the next big thing – never ceasing his ability to learn and grasp new concepts. You think his mind is exceptional and that just makes him all the hotter.

His humour and light-hearted ways are one hell of a magnet as well. The witty banter and sharp comebacks, funny without ever being mean. The way no matter what his titles are, to his friends he will forever be the youngest one – their Ggukie. And how he lets them, basking on it, welcoming the love and letting himself be babied. You like the way he can’t help but get giddy when something really cool catches his eye – how even though he’s seen a lot, he never acts like he’s seen it all, letting himself still be surprised by the world around him.

And last but not least – how good of a dad he is. How out of all his titles and duties, that one seemed to be the one he carries with the most pride.

“So, what now, darling?” Your dad said.

You’d barely had enough time to remove your cap and gown, finding a comfortable position in the booth at the diner.

“Well,” you hesitate for a moment, trying to find the right words. “I quit my job at the bar.”

“Oh, honey. That is great news. That was no place for a young lady,” your mother adds, relief filling her face. You appreciate her concern.

“That is good, ___. It was only holding you back. What other offers do you have lined up?” Your father presses, curious and, frankly speaking, gullible.

“Well, dad- it’s not that easy.”

“Of course it’s not! Finding a job is a job of its own, ___. When I was your age I walked the streets tirelessly, paper in hand, circling every single option, talking to anyone that was willing to listen about my qualifications-”

“Dad.” He finally stops, looking at you, “I think that’s very admirable but, in this day and age we use Linkdn and no one is really willing to listen. You think you know rejection until a faceless HR worker ghosts you.”

“I understood two things from what you just told me but, nonetheless, darling, the value of good, honest work never goes unappreciated.”

You contemplate his words for a second. “I was thinking about volunteering at the library… we just passed it actually. It’s a book club for little kids.”

Your mom beams at your words, always one to encourage any sort of helping hand. Your dad, on the other hand, looks a bit crestfallen at the thought.

“You know, honey,” your mom takes it upon herself to break the heavy silence that falls around the table, “when you were a little girl you loved playing with dolls. You’d dress them in your old baby clothes and even made me get you real diapers for them! You went on to become a scholar, a bright young woman but… I always did think that you’d come into this world to be a mother.”

You know she doesn’t mean for her words to hit you in the gut like a clean punch but they do. Not because you didn’t share said dream but because you didn’t believe it was your only one. You didn’t think you’d have to sacrifice your talent and brains to be the very first thing you wanted to be when the world was four walls and an endless array of dolls: a mom.

“You’re a good dad.” You tell him, when it’s just the two of you and Soori, who has just begun to stir awake, once again.

He looks at you, surprised by how flustered your words find him. “Thank you. I try…” he replies, voice laced with honesty as he lets out a sigh.

“And a good hotel owner… person.”

He laughs at this, head falling back on his shoulders. “Thank you. Where is this coming from?”

“I don’t know,” your gaze lands on the tall trees as you walk a narrow walkway back to the main lobby. You wish you could hold his hand. “I like seeing you… in action.”

“Yeah?” You only nod and he doesn’t miss the faint rosy tint that creeps up on your cheeks. “I thought you’d find it boring.”

“There is very little in this world I find actually boring.”

“I like that about you.”

God there it is. The gentleness of his soul. The butterflies that set flight once again, having never truly left.

You let yourself stare at him, a liberty that makes the sight of him all that more enticing. He stares back, a desire tugging in his chest to either tell you just how much he likes not just that about you but also the way you always speak your mind and hold his gaze so intensely he can sometimes even read it. Or just kiss you. His mind holds the debate, eyes traveling to your lips as he surrenders into the temptation. He’s just about to lean in when a higher force settles it for him.

“Darling!” You both turn around, slightly shaken as you’re met with the sight of none other than his mother.

“Hey, mom. How are you?” He says, walking towards her.

“I’m good, I’m good. Let me see her!” She’s excited and that’s all Soori needs to fall into her arms as soon as she’s freed from the coziness of the baby carrier and Jungkook’s chest. “Oh, look at those teeth. She looks just like you. Well, she’s prettier- no offense, honey.”

“Non-taken and agreed.”

“___, it’s good to see you again.”

“You too, Mrs. Jeon. I like your hat.” Jungkook can’t help the smirk that tugs at his lips as his mother is taken aback by your compliment. His hand flies to his mouth to cover the impending chuckles that threaten to come out of it.

“Thank you.” She replies, her voice slightly confused but he can tell she’s flattered by the look on her face. “Your father’s at the restaurant waiting. Your meeting took too long, darling. You know he doesn’t like to wait. Let’s join him, shall we?”

She doesn’t necessarily wait for a reply from either of you, promptly turning around and heading to the direction of the restaurant. Soori’s in her arms and from a distance you can see how her eyes widen as her grandma speaks to her as she would a friend. ‘It is almost your birthday. I have no idea what to get you! What are you into these days? I hope you didn’t inherit that god-awful habit your father had back in the day of putting everything in his mouth. It turned just about everything into a choking hazard. What’s your favourite colour? Why don’t I ever see you in a dress…’

You can’t help but snort, a closed-lipped smile locking in your laughter.

“She’s in for a real treat when she finds out she was in tears the other day because I had to turn the Animal Planet off because all of a sudden the screen panned out to a lion absolutely devouring an emu.”

You break, full-on laughing now at the sole imagery of a nonchalant Soori and a frenzied Jungkook fumbling with the buttons of his high-tech remote control.

“Or when she finds out she can’t wear dresses because she likes to show everyone and their mothers her belly button.” You add.

“If I kept them on their toes just imagine her.”

You both remain in a peaceful silence for about a second as your laughter dies down.

“Hm, well… it’s all a karmic cycle so be prepared.” You muse, humming as he frowns.

“Nope. I’m prepared, you see? I at least know the god-awful habit is all babies. Not just me.”

You turn around, walking backwards as you face him. “Nope. I wasn’t talking about baby Jungkook.”

“Ha. Well, I stand my case. I also happen to be prepared. I have a bullshit radar for rebellious teens.”

“Takes one to know one.”

He narrows his eyes at you. “I was an angel.”

“I find that hard to believe.”

“Why is that?”

“Because you look too much like one.”

“That’s just a bonus,” he flirts, picking his pace so he can get closer to you.

You click your tongue, biting your lip before you say,

“No. that’s just deceiving.”

~

Lunch is a smooth affair. Jungkook is merely an observer as his mother entertains Soori with random lady-who-brunches talk and his dad picks an interest in dissecting your literature degree. At first, it’s a bit patronizing and Jungkook visibly tenses next to you – it almost feels as if he was introducing you to them in the very same sense you’re both very well exploring. But his father, with a deep-rooted love for the classics, caves – engaging in quite the conversation. He doesn’t quite recognize the majority of the names you both throw back and forth but he looks at you in total awe. You talk about things with such passion and excitement. With love. And it is then that the thought haunts him:

You are love personified.

Jungkook doesn’t know just what that means. Or why his heart and brain ganged up on him and put the thought in his mind – engraving it. But it makes sense to him. You have a softness about you, a lightness that you carry that sheds light into the darkest of spaces, breaking down the tallest of walls. The hardest of men, i.e., his very own father.

Now, his parents might fall into most of the stereotype that characterize the filthy rich but, being assholes for no reason is not one of them. So, they welcome you and Jungkook can tell it surprises you. He also knows that a big part of their approach is due to the fact that they can so clearly see how fond Soori is of you and that is the one thing they’ve weakened for in all of Jungkook’s twenty-eight years on this earth. They have a weakness for her he doesn’t even think they had for him and he thinks it’s only normal, especially considering the circumstances. In fact, he’s grateful for it.

You all say your goodbyes, his mother pressing a kiss to Soori’s forehead before she lets her know, ‘table manners will be discussed with urgency during our next meeting’. She just giggles, grabbing a fist-full of her hair and tugging playfully, making her yelp. Jungkook feigns a stern front, attempting to tell her off but in reality, he just finds it hilarious.

Once they’re out of eyesight you turn to him, eyebrows raising in amusement.

“So, Mr. Jeon’s a romantic.” You state, making him wince in surprise.

“Sorry, come again?”

“Come on. Barret, Neruda, Keats… Baudelaire. The greatest poets of our time. All moved by a little thing called love.”

Jungkook doesn’t know enough to agree but coming from you he doesn’t doubt it. He doesn’t doubt you’re so well-read in something you carry so well. Love.

“I’ve heard my dad’s name followed by many adjectives but romantic is a first.”

“Are you one, too?”

“What?”

“A romantic.”

He hums. “Elaborate.”

“What is there to elaborate in?” You laugh, taking Soori in your arms when she decides to perform her free-fall from her father to you. It’s a good thing you’re both well-trained, always ready to catch her.

“Well,” he gets nervous, your effect on him makes his brain malfunction at times. “It’s a broad term, isn’t it?”

“Mm, depends. How do you see it? Do you see it as love or do you see it as love?” Your voice lilts at the end and he can’t help but laugh at it, half amused and half endeared.

“I don’t know,” but whatever he sees you at, that’s the closest. “But I have my set of beliefs.”

“Ah. So you are.”

He rolls his eyes but you don’t miss his smile. He can’t deny you, really. Because as much as love failed him, he can’t help but see it. He sees it in his parents, in their odd little ways of showing it. In his friends, in how he’s seen even the most untameable of characters be swooped off of their feet and straightened in one swift movement – all because of love. Love walked out on Jungkook but it left him the thing he loves the most. And the one person that he knows will always love him. She has four set of teeth and looks dangerously close to another free-fall as she smiles at him.

And he sees it in you. In the way you take on the world. In the way you speak and read your books and write in that beat up journal. In the way you sing to Soori who will most likely know the entirety of Elton John’s discography by the time she’s two.

Love feels so scary to Jungkook right now – it threatens to break him, even. But he’s not blind to it.

“Come on, I want to show you something before we go.”

~

“What is it with you and non-traditional means of transportation?”

The three of you stand at the end of the dock that sways softly to the beat of the current of the river. A long and sleek speedboat right in front of you. It’s beautiful – dark wood exteriors with black and white detailing, a royal blue flag with The West End insignia on it. You all but gawk as Jungkook jumps in, unconsciously taking a step back with Soori in your arms.

“You know, for someone who’s so easily entertained you sure are hard to impress.” He says as he digs through one of the compartments beneath the seats, retrieving a small, pink life-jacket, presumably Soori’s.

“What about this screams easy?” You sneer, making him let out a loud chuckle.

“Pass her over,” he tells you, hands stretching out towards Soori who jumps excitedly in your hold. You hesitate for a second, frowning at him. “Oh, don’t worry. She loves this thing. Look I even-,” he points to the tail of the boat and you see it. Soori Blue – her name engraved in dainty, cursive letters.

“Did you consent to this?” You ask her. She returns your question with a giggle.

You pass her to him and he puts the life-jacket around her, adjusting tightly as she distracts herself with her trusted giraffe. Once he’s done, he stretches his arm out for you. You don’t take it right away.

“Come on, ___. It’ll be fun.” He presses.

“No speeding, just boating, okay?”

“Don’t worry. it’s just boating when baby’s in. We can do the speeding another day.” He winks and you know nothing about his sentence was sexual but the action sends a flutter to your lower stomach.

You get in, taking Soori from him and settling in one of the plush seats as you wrap your arms around her, holding her tight. Just like flying, she takes on this activity like a champ, squirming excitedly when Jungkook gets behind the wheel and sets sail, no destination in particular, just leisurely roaming about the waters.

You can’t quite deny it – it’s soothing. The breeze is nice and relaxing and he sets a steady, relaxing pace. You glance towards him, eyes focused on the waters ahead and hands effortlessly manoeuvering the wheel. The wind dishevels his hair but it’s one hell of a sight as the strands fly freely around his face. He eventually tugs his front bangs behind his ears, making him look ten times dreamier.

He catches you staring. You look so beautiful. Hair dancing in the wind, your hand pressing down on Soori’s silky strands so they don’t fly off. Your white, flowy dress falls victim, too, as it pulls up your legs, exposing your tan skin to him. Soori’s fingers point to nowhere in particular and you pull her to you, kissing her cheeks before you nod and say, ‘water!’. His brain short-circuits at the impact the exchange has on him – on how tender you are with her. Jungkook has always loved to see the world through Soori’s eyes and always dreaded the day she’d outgrow that wonder. But in you he realizes that doesn’t have to necessarily be the case. He thinks that if you stuck around for long enough, she might never outgrow it – just adapt it. Just like you.

He brings the engine to a stop once the boat is far enough for the hotel to be a tiny speck in the distance.

“Hey, Jungkook,” you call out to him, “I’m impressed!”

Your smile widens as he walks closer to you, coming to a seat beside you.

“You like my speedboat?” He teases.

“I like your boat.”

You’re both laughing now, so loud even Soori joins in.

“Is it cliché to say that I like to come here to think?”

“No. I get it. I mean, it wouldn’t be the first place to cross my mind but… I see why it is yours.”

“You can’t escape them here. Your thoughts.”

You turn to him. “Do you escape them often?”

“I guess. Sometimes…”

“We all have thoughts that we want to escape, I reckon.”

“Do you have them?”

“Why wouldn’t I,” you ask.

“I don’t know. You strike me as brave. Like you would run straight towards them.”

“Brave? Me?” Your voice is shocked.

“Yeah,” his eyes meet yours. “You.”

“I’ve never been called brave in my life.”

He scoffs light-heartedly. “It was the first thing I saw in you. Really saw, I mean. When you sat there and put me in my place after I nagged at you during the interview. Nobody had ever sat my ass down so poetically, by the way.”

“You deserved that.”

“I deserved worst.”

“No, you didn’t.”

Your eyes are gentle and sincere and Jungkook melts at your words. At all of you.

“___,” he pauses, contemplating something you can’t read.

“Yes?”

“I haven’t felt sure of much in… a long time. Other than Soori and a handful of useless things, nothing holds much certainty in my life.” Your gaze deflects to the wooden floor at his words. “But you- I am sure of you. And wanting to try. And getting to know you.” He mimics your words from earlier, a timid smile forming at his lips at the relief he feels over saying them back. They’d been stuck in his chest, tickling up his throat every time he all but glanced at you.

You smile at him, a world of feelings taking over you, an airy voice when you say, “you’re brave, too.”

Your words ring in his ears, straight to his chest, knocking the breath out of him. For a second, he sees himself in your eyes – believes your words. And without much hesitation, he kisses you. Leaning into you, gently cupping your cheek with his hand. It takes you by surprise but you let yourself fall into his lips, scooting closer to him on the seat, both your arms still wrapped around Soori who babbles away as she plays with her giraffe. Your lips are soft and he pulls your bottom one in-between his teeth as you let out a sigh – a delicate sound that he catches with his mouth as his tongue finds yours, allowing him to go deeper.

He pulls back slightly, the both of you gasping for air for about a second before your lips find one another yet again – this time in a gentle lock, as he indulges in the plushness of your lips, how full they feel against his.

Your moment is cut short by Soori’s high-pitched shriek. You both look down at her and she smiles, blowing a sloppy raspberry into thin air, happy to have your attention back on her.

You bounce your leg and he pinches her cheek and that’s enough for her to be satisfied, eyes back on her plushie as she jumps straight back into the previous conversation they were having.

Jungkook leans back against the seat and extends his arm to the side, locking it around you until you’re safely tucked in – a cocoon of his warmth as you lean your head on his shoulder and his hand plays with your hair. Soori is in the middle and she mimics the two of you, leaning her body backwards until she’s resting against your stomachs.

“Oh, God. She copies everything,” you say.

“I know. Get ready for double the sloppy kisses.”

“From you or her?”

“Both.”

He leans forwards, his lips coming to smack at your cheek as he nuzzles closer to you.

You giggle at his touch – Soori follows.

~

Doorway goodbyes have gotten a tad bit harder with a teething Soori. It’s not that she fights being back in your arms after Jungkook hands her over to you – it’s more so having to see him leave and not having the possibility to alternate between the two of you.

Desperate times have called for desperate measures – aka, distractions. Today is half a pancake she nibbles on, chubby hand drenched in sticky honey. She offers it to Jungkook, always the kind girl she is. You think he’s going to take a fake-bite and fake-chew on it the way he normally does but he actually goes for it. Making you gasp in surprise.

“Heeey. Get your own pancake, daddy.” You say in a serious voice.

“Don’t call me that.” He points a finger at you, a scowl to his face. You chuckle.

“Don’t eat her pancake.”

“She likes to share.” He returns, his Soori voice on as he coos at her before kissing her cheeks. “Hey, by the way… we’re having a pool party on Sunday.”

“Oh. Fun…”

“Yeah. Jiminie’s inviting Lucy,” he wags his eyebrows at you. “I’m excited to finally meet her. Properly, I mean.”

You smile, excited for the two of them to be taking this step. “You’ll love her. You all will. She’s the best. Soori will love her!”

“I’m sure we will. But hey, I was wondering if maybe… you could come?”

“Why,” your tone is more brass than you originally intend.

“I want you there. I mean- I know we said… I don’t think they’ll be surprised. They’ll just think you’ll be here for Soori. Unless you don’t feel comfortable with that or- maybe you have plans which I completely understand-”

You smile a little at his rambling, interrupting him as he narrows his eyes at you. “I’ll be here. For Soori.” You see the fallen expression in his face and you break, “and for you. I like seeing you during the weekend. You get less bossy.”

“Funny, you.”

“Oh, I’m hilarious.”

He scrunches his nose, nodding. “Yeah, you kinda are.”

He scans the room for a second before confirming the coast is clear, leaning closer to you and placing a sweet peck on your lips – getting carried away for a second too long as he deepens the kiss.

He knows you don’t know this but you make doorway goodbyes easier for him, too.

~

“What is it with him?” Kenny’s eyes are glued to Jungkook as he sips on a beer and laughs at something Namjoon just said.

“I don’t know. He even laughed at something Tae said today.” Mai responds, her eyes fixed on the same sight.

“Maybe therapy has been helping?” Suelgi suggests.

“Yeah,” Mai’s voice drifts right in tune with her thoughts. Her eyes look for you, sat in Soori’s mat playing with her and Dae. “Therapy…”

“Whatever it is… it makes me happy. I mean, I hadn’t seen a smiling Ggukie in a while. I missed it.”

“Me too. And just overall, he seems different.” Suelgi says.

Mai smiles, simply nodding as she sips on her glass of wine.

He’s different alright.

~

“Hey,” you walk towards the small circle Jungkook, Lucy, Hobi and Jimin have formed.

They all greet you back, enthusiastically.

“Soori sort of drifted. She was with Yoongi on the couch so…,” you say to Jungkook, feeling a bit awkward at not knowing how to approach him with so much people around.

It’s not that you regret coming. It’s just that you don’t really feel like you quite fit in the environment. There are many eyes on Soori, all wanting to give her undivided attention and play with her. So, it’s not like you can do your job and mingling feels slightly out of place considering that you, well, keep one hell of a secret. A secret you try not to make obvious. So, you’ve been avoiding Jungkook at all costs.

“Yeah, the little kids tend to tire her out quickly as she tries to keep up with them. Have you eaten? Are you hungry? Do you want something to drink?” You frown slightly at his words, hoping your eyes convey the words your mouth can’t.

“No. Thanks. I’m actually looking for her ducky. I can’t seem to find it and she’s been making the ducky face so,”

“Oh. Shit, yeah. I think I might’ve left it in the playroom this morning. We were playing videogames.”

“We?” Hobi snorts at your remark and you instantly regret it. “I’ll look for it. Where in her playroom?”

“Not hers. Mine. Here, I’ll come with.” He says and before you can say anything else he starts walking towards the inside of the house.

Once you make it to the long hallway, the same one that leads to his office, he turns to you – face laced with concern.

“Are you okay,” he asks.

“Yes. Sorry- I just- I’m bad at keeping secrets. I feel like my dumb face gives it away.”

He smiles at this, relief flooding his body. “It’s not dumb. And I’m sorry. Maybe it was a bit selfish of me to have you come… I just- wanted to see you.”

“No, no. I want to be here. I wanted to see you, too.” You sigh, leaning your back against the wall. He takes a step closer to you, expression unreadable – perhaps with something dancing in his eyes you’ve never seen before. “What are you doing?”

“Nothing,” he mocks nonchalance.

“Jungkook,” your hand comes to push lightly at his tummy, “there’s like- everyone out there.”

“Why would they come here?” He takes another step forward.

“I don’t know? Bathroom?”

“There’s a bathroom in the pool house.”

“Oh?”

“Oh,” he says, finally closing the space around you and clashing his lips to yours in a soft, slow kiss.

You whimper against his mouth, not really expecting to be this close to him today. It’s healing, really, to be able to just be with him after having him so tentatively close to you the whole day yet so out of reach. You hear a nearing voice – Namjoon’s it sounds like.

“Jung-”

“Shh,” he tells you, grabbing your hands and walking backwards, opening the door behind him. He closes it, securing the lock.

You look around you – a huge room with blue LED lights illuminating it. A couple of arcade games lining the walls, a pool table and a huge black couch that sits in front of an even bigger TV.

“What is this,” you ask, eyes still scanning the room in awe.

“My playroom,” he states simply, pulling you to him by the hands and closing your lips around his once again.

You realize it, the moment you circle your arms around his neck, fingers getting lost in his dark locks as his hands find your waist, making their descend until they squeeze around your hips. You realize just how bold of a move it was to put the two of you in an empty room. Alone and unsupervised. Not even by the prying eyes of a baby.

Mistake, mistake. But what have we said about those?

He lets out a throaty moan against your mouth as you pull at his hair gently, hissing as your nails soothingly run over the spot. The feeling sends goosebumps down his skin and his hands travel down until they land on your ass. You push into him and he squeezes, hard. You moan when you feel him against your lower belly and marvel at how hard he feels through the thin fabric of his swimsuit. He pulls away some, forehead resting on top of yours as your ragged breaths mix together.

“Fuck,” he pants.

“We can just… kiss a little,” you whisper against his lips.

“Yeah. Yeah,” he ponders. “Slow…”

“Slow.” You repeat and before you can process the lie his lips are back on yours.

He walks forwards, arms around your waist as you walk backwards, letting him guide you towards the couch. His knees hit the back of the cushions and he sits, legs spreading and body melting into the pillows as he looks up at you with hooded eyes. He looks heavenly – red-bitten lips glistening with the trace of yours, ruffly hair and slightly flushed cheeks; the soft tint traveling down his neck all the way to his chest.

“C’mere,” he intwines his fingers with yours, pulling you to him until you’re straddling his lap.

“Hm, feels oddly-” a sigh escapes your lips as his mouth connects to a tender spot at the side of your neck, “familiar- fuck.”

And Jungkook knows he’s a goner. The moment his teeth scrape down the sensitive skin and you whimper and squirm in his hold, hips buckling against his, the way he dreamed of the last time he had you in this position. He knows this is where boundaries come to die.

“These dresses will be the death of me,” he says as his hands snake past the hem, kneading around the soft flesh of your ass.

You rut your hips against his, more firmly this time and you can feel him better now – almost fully hard, long and thick as you drag your clothed cunt over him, tiny little whimpers leaving your lips as your eyes shut at the way you tease your clit with every roll of your hips.

He feels it, too. And he can’t help but get high off of your pleasure, on the way your nails push against the soft flesh at the nape of his neck – the way your mouth parts slightly against his own, your hips picking up pace as he groans, hands on your ass as he aids your rhythm, alternating between rapid movements and deeper slow ones.

He’s fully hard now and he can feel the tension building up in his lower stomach, the way it caves in, making him shudder at the sharp pleasure that shoots through him as his cock throbs inside his pants. He tightens his grip around your hips, pulling upwards and away from him until they’re hovering over his. His head falls backwards, hand coming to run through his hair as he collects himself. “Wait- I’ll cum,” he pants.

“It’s okay,” you assure him.

“No. I want to- can I touch you?”

“Yes, please.”

Your voice is so lenient, so airy it sends Jungkook spiralling right into the very root of his lust.

Fuck slow.

His hands grip at the hem of your dress, bunching the fabric upwards until it rests against your tummy. Your hands replace his, holding onto your dress as his fingers run down the smooth of your legs, coming up to toy with the strings at one side of your bikini bottoms. His eyes divert from your lust filled ones all the way to his fingers as they leave feathery touches on your skin. He sees it then – a small butterfly tattoo that rests on your side, just below your hip at the curve of your ass. He groans, doubting he’s ever seen anything sexier in his life.

“Fuck- what is this, baby?”

The pet name sends your mind down a hazy spiral. “I- I wanted to be able to hide it.”

“It’s so sexy. You’re so sexy.”

He tugs at the string that holds your swimsuit in place, eyes widening slightly as the fabric falls apart on your skin, exposing your pussy to him. Your mouth parts, a silent moan breaking at your throat as his fingers come between your legs, digits rubbing at your clit. They travel downwards for a second before he collects your slick, rubbing it all over your little nub.

“Fuck, you’re so wet. Is this for me, baby?” His question has your eyes snapping open, lazy gaze fixating on him as you nod and moan as his fingers pick up their pace.

“Y-yes. I’ve- been like this all day.” Your confession has him groaning as he brings your face to him, biting at your bottom lip.

“Yeah?” His fingers tease at your entrance, drawing tight circles against it. You nod hastily and when you do, they push all the way in – middle and ring finger sliding right in, hooking inside of you as he finds that spot that has your legs shaking, weak at the feeling as your hips come down to their original position. “Shit- you’re so fucking tight. Your pussy’s so fucking tiny, baby. Swallowing my fingers.”

“Jungkook- m-move, please,” you whimper and he complies, beginning his assault on your snug walls as he drags the long of his fingers in and out of you, hitting that spot repeatedly until he feels you get impossibly tighter around them.

Your moans get louder, sweeter, against his lips as his thumb draws tight circles around your clit. You hold onto him as the tell-tale signs of your orgasm begin to unfold above him. It’s intoxicating, all of you – the way your hips roll against his fingers, pressing on his cock. The way you whimper against his ear before your mouth finds his and you kiss him, deep. The way your thighs close around him, knees weak at your futile attempts to as his strong legs push yours further apart.

“Fuck you’re so beautiful- you gonna cum for me, baby?”

“Yes,” your voice is but a whisper, lips not parting from his. “I’m so- fuck. I’m so close.”

“Let go, baby. I got you.”

You cry out when you feel him press firmly against your g-spot, legs shaking as you cum around his fingers, cunt fluttering restlessly around them, powered by his thumb on your clit, stimulating you from all nerve endings. Jungkook can feel the way you gush all around his hand, not once doubting you’ve made a mess out of his swimsuit, too.

“Oh, fuck,” you say, completely fucked-out as you relax against his body, blissfully coming down from probably the strongest orgasm you’ve had, well, ever.

He brandishes your shoulders with little kisses as he removes his fingers from between your legs, bringing them all the way to his mouth before he sucks on them – eyes closing in pleasure. Before he can open them, your hand is closing around his clothed cock, tight grip as you stroke him. He moans, fingers slipping from his wet mouth.

“You don’t have to,” he says, hand coming to rest on top of yours.

“I want to. Please.”

That damn word coming from your pretty lips will see the end of him. He gives you a faint nod as his hand closes around yours, tightening your grip. But it’s not enough, for either of you. Your hips pull back some, and his body jerks as your bare cunt comes in contact with his balls through the thin material of his swimsuit. You roll your hips, pleased with his reaction. Your fingers hook on the waistband of his shorts and his hips raise slightly as you push them past his hips, just enough to free his cock. You nearly drool at the sight of him – cock springing up and away from the restraints, landing on his pelvis. He’s long and thick, a pretty set of veins running from base to tip where he leaks a tiny pearl of precum, arousal so evident as it twitches and he whimpers. Jungkook is in no position to get cocky, considering how painfully hard he is, but a lazy grin forms at his lips when he sees you gawking at the size of him, trying to wrap your head around it. Your tiny hand travels down his stomach, emitting a groan from him as your fingers wrap around his girth – the tip of your thumb and fingers barely able to meet as your fist closes around his cock.

Your head lowers a bit before your jaw twitches, collecting your build-up saliva before you let a string of spit fall from your mouth all the way to the tip of his cock. Jungkook’s eyes roll at the mere sight, a feral moan leaving his lips.

“Fuck, ___. Yeah- fuck. Just like that.” He praises as your palm closes around his tip, thumb toying with his slit as you collect the precum that builds up at your ministrations.

Your touch is soft but firm, twisting at the upstroke, pace picking up as you feel him pulse around you. You bring your other hand down and close it around his base, gripping tightly as your other hand works his shaft and squeezes at his tip. He begins to lose control under you, fingers pressing on the soft flesh of your thighs and hips thrusting up at the rhythm of your merciless grip around his cock. He doesn’t think he’ll last much longer, especially when you start rutting your pussy mindlessly over his balls that feel heavy at the wake of his impending release.

“Koo,” you’ve never called him that and it does things to him, cock fighting with his heart to see who’ll explode first. “Cum for me, please. I wanna make you feel good,” you plead and it’s that innocence in your voice that threatens to tip him over the edge.

“It feels so good, baby. So fucking good- ffuck. There- don’t stop,” he begs as your thumb presses against his frenulum and your other hand strokes his shaft, tight hold on it as you twist your wrist.

You whine, exceptionally loud and Jungkook’s eyes snap open, met with the sight of your face contorting in pleasure as you bite your lip, your hands on his cock never faltering as the friction of your clit dragging against his balls rips another orgasm out of you. He thinks he’s about to pass out as he feels your pussy flutter as you press down on him.

“F-fuck. Fuck, that’s so hot. You’re gonna make me cum,” his hands fly to your hips, moving them against him even as you squirm in sensitivity.

“Yes, please- cum for me.” You sound delirious and that does it for him.

His head rolls back, leaning against the sofa as a feral groan rips from his chest – throaty and dreamy and you think you can cum again just by the way he sounds and looks as he falls apart under you. Face contorting in pleasure as he pulls his lip in-between his teeth, biting hard as his cock jerks in your hold and he spills all over your hands – so much cum some even lands on his tummy. His abs tense and finally release once he begins to come down.

“Holy fuck,” his voice shakes, hands gently coming down and removing yours from around his cock as he cringes with the over-sensitivity.

“That was…,” you start.

He sighs, tucking a fallen strand of hair behind your ear. “So good.”

You hum in response, face nuzzling against his touch. “I think we should head back. No one is going to believe it was this hard to find a rubber ducky.” You say, looking down at his softening cock.

“Don’t make me laugh just yet, I think I just blacked out.”

You hold back a chuckle, lips gently pressing against his as his hand plays with your hair.

“I’ll go clean up first. I’ll tell them you got a work call or something.”

He only nods, shooting you a lazy smile before you come to a standing position – steps faltering a bit as you regain your balance.

Jungkook’s head is still floating in cloud nine and he lets himself enjoy it for a minute until he can process just how good that was and how it’s about to make slow most likely, probably – impossible.

~

He walks into the living room, face glued to his phone as he scrolls aimlessly through it.

Yoongi lays on the couch with Soori nuzzled against his side as she suckles on her bottle.

“Hi,” he says when he sees Jungkook.

“Hey, man.” He responds casually.

“You look like you just fucked your nanny,” his voice has its usual monotone ring to it and Jungkook eyes widen at his blunt words.

“Yo. Language.” He scolds, pointing at Soori.

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

He sits next to Soori, covering her ears, “I did not fuck ___.”

Yoongi scoffs, diverting his eyes back to the tv. “Really now? Are you gonna hit me with another she just straddled my lap?”

Jungkook stays silent.

Thankful his honesty back then landed him into this white lie so easily.

~

HI. if u made it this far – i hope u enjoyed!! this was my first time explicitly squeezing my sexy juices out and I ENJOYED THAT A LITTLE TOO MUCH. i never want to leave the countryside. i am, officially, becoming a country girl. i truly hope u enjoyed. let me know what you thought!! i love talking to u guys, but u already know that <333 i’m sending loads of love!!!! xxxxx

~

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jjk; angel’s trumpet | masterpost

Angel’s Trumpet Scientific Name: Brugmansia Order and Family: Polimonailes and Solanaceae Plant Overview: A higher order of nightshade, the Angel’s Trumpet is a show-stopping pendulous flower that hangs like bells. In myth, they were prized as chimes holding magical properties. In modern use, Angel’s Trumpets have occasionally been used to create recreational drugs, but the risk of overdose is so high that these uses often have deadly consequences.

summary; one second, your life is flashing before your eyes and the next, you’re transported into a world exactly like your own. but the jungkook you meet in this world isn’t a renowned singer or your former almost-lover, in fact he has no clue who you are and why you know him so well. as you work to find your way home lost and confused, you conclude that you’re either dead or in the middle of the most wicked drug trip of your life.

pairing; idol!jk x reader (f), alternatively film producer!jk x reader

genre/warnings; fluff, angst, supernatural, idol!au, non-idol!au, alternate universes, themes of fate, language, alcohol consumption, mentions of sex

w.c; ~45k

| 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | 07 | 08 | final | bonus |

a/n; coming soooooon! i’ve been dedicating the better half of the month to this so i really hope u enjoy my first kpop mini series!! inspired a lil bit by the k-drama W and the avengers! 

click under the cut for a preview!

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his service

you return to your kingdom when your betrothed suddenly dies, and the only comfort you can find in a court that no longer feels like home is a certain knight.

pairing: knight!jungkook x princess!reader genre: historical au, angst, smut word count: 9.2k warnings: huge age gap, bullying?, depression, unrequited love, drinking, mild violence (reader gets slapped), swearing, fingering, grinding, loss of virginity, quiet sex author’s note: i’ve been writing for years but this is actually my first finished fic lol hope you like it !! also my dumb ass realised just now that jk is wearing an earpiece in the header let’s ignore that:D

Early 15th century 

“But, Your Grace,” some lord begged the king from inside the chamber Jungkook and Taehyung stood outside of. “The kingdom would clearly benefit more from an alliance with Aragon than from one with Naples.”

The two castle guards had been there for hours as the council argued about which royal family you, the Princess Y/N, should marry into. You were only four years of age but the Kingdom of Castile needed allies, for war with Portugal had just been declared and the Crown lacked money to pay well-trained soldiers. 

Keep reading

to build a home | chapter five

pairing: Jungkook x reader. ceo!jk + dilf!jk x nanny!oc

genre: strangers to lovers. angst. loads of plot. eventual smut.

word count: 9.2k

warnings: angst. swearing. alcohol. jealousy. no one is black-out drunk in this, oc’s just a lightweight! more heavy petting? idk anymore. mentions of sex and virginity.

author’s note: hii! this was quite healing to write, tbh. it’s very angsty at times but the ending makes it all worth it! i feel like we need a little bit of love after last night’s interlude so i made sure to sprinkle some of that on this one. thank u for all ur love and feedback, i appreciate it more than you’ll ever know! i'm sending a million kisses your way <3 xxx

p.s. yes. this settles the jucy/yoocy debate. place your bets.

This is a work of fiction. Please respect the members and their privacy. x

Chapter Five

Your eyes are fixed to the perfectly cut orange wedge that floats on top of your Aperol Spritz. You circle your straw around it, the clink of the ice hitting the glass throwing you right back into time and space.

The music is muffled by the loud chatter of the people scattered around the bar. Some in tables, some standing in corners, aimlessly engaging in conversations that lead nowhere, everywhere – some just passing the time until its, quote on quote, morally correct to end up in each other’s beds.

You look up from your glass, abruptly thrown into your own aimless conversation.

“And then he proceeds to pay for my matcha latte with coins!” You turn to Lucy, who widens her eyes at Sky’s words in mock surprise. “And- ___, get this,” she says, snapping her fingers when she notices you’ve drifted for the majority of her recount, “he walked me home. Only he was riding that skateboard of his the whole way there! Ugh.”

“What’s so wrong about coins, though?” Lucy says, a little dumbfounded by this. You snort.

“Well,” Sky contemplates for a while. “I don’t know! The vibe was just off. And the waiter had to stand there for like ten thousand centuries as he counted them. One. By. One.”

Sky is not your friend.

Well, that is a loose statement. Let’s try again. Sky is someone that has fallen into the space between an acquaintance and those people you end up in the company of whenever you want to do just this – have aimless conversations in a bar. You can’t quite explain it but the mundanity of her problems is comforting at times. Like they bring some sort of universal balance that sets everything back into place.

If you let her, she’ll sit through five negronis and tell you about any recent atrocity that she stumbled upon. Today is the poor skateboarder that had to pay for her overpriced green tea with coins. You take a moment of silence for his spirit and hope he recovers well.

“Hold in there, Sky. You know what they say, a million thorns to get to the rose.” Lucy comforts as Sky sulks, sipping on her drink.

Nobody has ever said that. But Sky nods, sniffing a little, and you smile. Lucy is, without a doubt, walking straight into the gates of heaven.

“Ladies, on the house.” Jiwoo, former literary student and classmate, says as he places three shot glasses filled with a suspicious looking clear liquid.

He also bartends, hence your uncomfortable seating arrangement at the bar besides one another. The three of you are his personal cheerleaders as you keep him entertained through his shift and he keeps you, well, buzzed.

“I just think-” Sky starts, “I think I’m ready for my rose. Now.”

The three of you just nod in acknowledgement at her words. A sheepish smile adorns Jiwoo’s face, who successfully recovered after Sky crushed his spirit freshman year. He did not pay with coins but she did tell him his head was ‘a little too in the clouds’ after he confessed his undying love for a good Shakespearean drama.

You reach for the glass, eyeing it for a second before you decide, fuck it. As you bring the shot closer to your mouth you glance at Lucy whose eyes look frantic, wide in shock. You simply assume it’s a delayed reaction to Sky’s very own Shakespearean drama. As soon as the rim touches your lips, your neck draws back, closing your eyes as you down the Tequila in one swing.

“Wow. I didn’t know you had it in you, ___!”

The awfully-familiar-but-not-quite-there voice startles you, opening your eyes and glancing at the direction of where it’s coming from. Your eyes widen in pure, utter terror, face wincing as the burn from the straight liqueur hits your throat, too consumed in the sight before you to bother reaching for a chaser. You let out a throaty cough.

The awfully familiar voice belongs to Taehyung, who, to no surprise, stands in a circle next to your seat at the bar with a set of familiar faces. One of them being Jungkook’s.

Your mind chants a string of highly explicit curse words that, for obvious reasons, you can’t voice.

“Hey, ___! Nice to see you again!” Jimin’s chirpy voice breaks you out of your ghostly trance.

“Uh- yeah. You too. It’s nice to…,” your voice drifts as your eyes meet Jungkook’s stern ones.

Fucking hell.

“Ah, don’t let him get to you. He’s done worse.” Yoongi muses, amusement evident in his voice. He’s even smiling. This moment is so awkward it even broke Yoongi.

Great.

Taehyung chuckles before he says, “I’m gonna go see if I can find us a table. This place is packed tonight, huh?”

“I’ll come with.” Yoongi says, voice back to his relaxed tone.

Jimin browses through the menu as Jungkook comes to stand next to you.

“Hey,” he says, giving you a tight-lipped smile.

You nod, returning it with the same amount of awkwardness. “Hey.”

“Hi!” Sky chirps, making you both turn to her, “I’m Sky. Nice to meet you.” She extends her hand over you, offering it to Jungkook.

He shakes it, returning her introduction with a simple, “Jungkook.”

“How do you two know each other?” She rests her elbows on the bar, back turned to Lucy completely, as she cocks her head that rests between her hands. A dazzling, Colgate smile gracing her features.

“He’s my boss,” you say the last word with a certain edge to it, hoping it helps her tone her peacock wings down. But it is to no avail.

You look up at the ceiling, looking for your angels that seem to have clocked out for the day.

“Oh! You’re the owner of that cute baby she keeps yapping on about?”

Lucy’s fingers press at her temples, mentally cursing her own angels for this exceptional turn of events.

Jungkook all but gawks at her for a second too long before he says, “Yup. That’d be me. Owner of the cute baby.”

“Oh my god, cute! I love babies. Well, more like, babies love me.” She giggles, overly enthusiastic for the dullness of the exchange.

Jungkook smiles nervously at her. Jimin senses his discomfort and the overall awkwardness of the situation and steps in, coming to stand between Sky and Lucy.

“Hey, what are you drinking? It looks nice and refreshing.” He asks her.

“Oh, this? It’s a negroni. Super strong, but kind of picked up the habit during my semester abroad in Rome.” She takes a sip of her drink as she responds.

“Ah, that sounds nice.” He entertains that for about a second, giving her a genuine smile before he turns to Lucy. “Hi. I’m Jimin, and you?”

She glances at him, eyes long lost somewhere else as to brace herself from the situation. “Oh- um. Mint julep.” She says.

He chuckles softly, meeting her eyes before he shakes his head lightly. “No. I mean, what’s your name?”

She gasps a little in shock, an apologetic giggle leaving her lips. “I’m Lucy.”

“Lucy…” he contemplates, eyes fixated on the endless bottles on the other side of the bar. A small smile on his lips. He turns to her. “It’s nice to meet you, Lucy.”

~

1. That one time you stole a single cherry flavoured Chupa Chup from your local convenience store after your cousin, the juvenile delinquent, called you a wuss.

2. Breaking Micky, member of your grandma’s beloved porcelain kitten collection and denying it over and over again, resulting in her taking the belief her house was haunted to her death bed.

3. Cheating on that one math exam in fourth grade because the basic concept of geometry just wouldn’t get through you.

4. Letting your geeky science group partner feel you up in your bed whilst your parents were next door, at total peace with their daughter engaging in the thrilling wonders of the anatomical body – the other kind.

You’re going through a mental list of every single thing you could’ve possibly done to be stuck in this situation. But even for you, who’s had to live with the guilt of said doings for many years, it feels a little bit drastic to be punished like this.

Taehyung’s quest for a table was unsuccessful, resulting in them having to occupy the seats right next to yours at the bar.

And so here you were, right next to Jungkook, both of your backs turned against each other’s, as you both tried to enjoy a little night out on the town. Another quest that kept finding itself unsuccessful.

The space is quite loud around you and you can’t really listen to their conversation – only Taehyung’s loud laugh now and then.

So, you think, this is good. This could be worse. You can’t even see him! And like Jungkook says: out of sight, out of mind. Yes. This is perfect.

This was not perfect.

“Guys,” Sky whispers, waving her hands inwards, motioning for you and Lucy to get closer. You do and she says, “I must’ve spoken too loud because… it’s here!” She shrieks and Lucy frowns in confusion at her words. Sky rolls her eyes. “My rose, silly.”

“Elaborate?” Lucy urges.

“Duh. ___’s hot boss! Jungkook,” she whispers his name but you still turn around abruptly, making sure he didn’t catch it. “___, you must play cupid. Pretty please?” Her palms flush together, signalling a prayer and you’re not religious but the act feels blasphemous to you.

“Sky, did you spike your negronis again? He’s my boss. I’m his nanny. There is so much wrong with the simple image of me trying to hook him up with my twenty-two-year-old friend.” You argue, trying to sound objective, so as to look away from the specks of jealousy that are threatening to explode inside your chest.

Sky pouts and Lucy nods before she adds, “Yeah, Sky. I think this rose is thorny.”

“I think it’s the beginning of a very romantic story.” She stands her ground, and quite frankly, you don’t blame her.

“Sky, if actual cupid is somewhere around here on nightly rounds, then he might be able to help you. I can’t, though.”

She jumps in her chair excitedly, clapping her hands once before saying, “You are so right! It has to be fate. Plus, he won’t be able to resist me.” She bats at her hair as she says this, sipping on her negroni, cheeky smile on her face.

And for all you know, she might be right. Sky is the textbook definition of attractive. She has sharp features that make her look almost cat-like, but a soft, warm smile that, yeah, most times she fakes but hey – it’s warm alright. She dresses like she knows she has an all-rounder proportionate body and overall, she oozes confidence. If you consider Jungkook’s track record, as in, the woman he had a child with then yes – he wouldn’t be able to resist someone like Sky.

It shouldn’t, but the realization makes you feel uncomfortable. And the more you think about it the discomfort turns into something worse – sadness.

Sky goes on and on about the principles she sticks to, all gathered from her, and you quote, Bible; Men are from Mars, Women are from Venus. You’ve never read said literary masterpiece but the title alone sounds sexist. Both Lucy and you let her talk, though, falling back into the dynamic of the aimless conversation – just like you were before Jungkook and his troop waltzed inside your little Saturday Sanctuary, now cursed forever.

You sigh, shoulders falling to the beat of your gaze as you go back to aimlessly stirring your drink, a significant mental strain on trying to brush aside the feeling of jealousy that takes over you. It’s a jealousy that doesn’t even belong to you, you realize. A feeling that came from an idea so far-fetched inside your brain, mustered from a shock-end reaction after Soori ended up in the hospital over a week ago.

Neither of you had acknowledged it – proving your case further. And it was better that way – you didn’t need the added tension on top of Jungkook’s day-to-day indifference. So, in that moment, you welcomed it.

Right now, it makes your heart feel heavy, though.

Jiwoo senses your despair, walking over to you and placing his hands gently on top of yours, shaking them a little to get your attention. Your gaze snaps up, looking at him as you return his sweet smile.

“Are you alright?” He asks.

“Just fine,” you tell him but he raises his brow, picking up on your white lie.

“Hm,” he ponders, “I’ll believe you. Have some of this, though. Just in case.” He winks before he places another shot glass in front of you, swiftly sliding it your way.

You catch it. Another poorly judged, ‘fuck it’ before you’re repeating the same motion that put you right into said misery you’re trying to drown.

~

At first, Jungkook only feels it – your change in demeanour. Then, he notices the change in your tone of voice, really cancelling out his friend’s conversations and listening in on yours. You laugh, clap, shriek, gasp – dramatizing every reaction to whatever it is your friends are saying. He’s not really listening in on your conversation, no. He’s listening to you.

Curiosity finally gets the best of him and he shifts around in his seat, coming to face the bar fully. You’re slightly turned around but he can see you from the corner of his eyes. Your cheeks are flushed, arms swinging around in the air as you tell some story about a road trip from hell where you and Lucy both caught food poisoning and your car broke down halfway through the trip. He chuckles softly to himself. You truly are a storyteller. Even funnier as your words begin to slur slightly as the alcohol swims through your body all the way to your head.

“Hey,” Jiwoo barely whispers, but Jungkook can hear him perfectly from his place next to you.

“Yeah?” Your voice is soft, and he can hear the smile on your face.

“What are you doing after this?”

“I don’t know… what am I doing after this?” You mock seriousness.

“Wanna get some ramen on the way and go over to yours? Watch a movie?”

Jungkook visibly tenses, but you don’t pay him much mind when you jump from your seat. “Beetlejuice!” You exclaim.

Jiwoo laughs, a short-nod of affirmation as he says, “Beetlejuice.”

“Bathroom break,” you announce, to seemingly nobody.

You stumble down from your stool, holding onto the edges when your step falters a bit as your head spins once, then twice as you regain your balance. Once you’re seeing straight again, you make your way to the bathroom – laughing to yourself as you feel the buzz all through you, easing your nerves, making you feel good.

Jungkook bounces his left leg repeatedly in a frenzy. Jimin picks up on it, turning to him.

“Hey, you okay?”

He nods. “Yeah. I’ll be right back.”

He doesn’t process his train of thought as he gets up from his stool, turning around and promptly making his way to where he knows the bathrooms are. He shoves past groups of people dancing, kissing and groping. Some doing all at once.

He makes it through the narrow hallway that leads to the bathrooms and stands there, waiting. He realizes just how poorly thought out his action was and how he has no fucking idea of what he’s going to say to you when you walk out of the toilet. He’s about to turn around, or hide inside the men’s bathroom – whichever one he can muster first. But the Universe has other plans because right as he begins to stir out of his awkward standing position, you come out of the bathroom. You’re looking down, measuring your steps, hands at your side fixing your skirt.

You look up and you’re met with the sight of him.

“Oop,” you yelp, hands coming to your mouth in embarrassment as you lose balance slightly.

He grabs your shoulders gently, holding you in place. “You okay?”

“Yeah-,” you stare at him, blinking slowly as you take him in. “Yeah. Yes. I’m fine. I’m sorry.”

“Sorry for what,” he asks.

“Um… my- me. Uh. I’m drunk. This is embarrassing.”

Jungkook chuckles lightly, letting go of your shoulders. “Don’t be. You should be doing just this on a Saturday night.”

“I don’t- usually. You know?” You tell him and he frowns in confusion, smiling a little at your rambling. “I usually spend my Saturday nights reading The Little Prince and listening to Elton John until Lucy loses it.”

“The Little Prince?” He asks, amused.

“It’s my comfort book.” You defend, a pout forming at your lips. You frown, “where’s Soori?”

“She’s spending the night at my parents’,” you wince slightly at this, eyebrows raising. “Don’t worry, my nanny’s there- I mean. She- took care of me when I was growing up.”

You give him a lazy smile. “So, you had a me?”

“Eh- yeah. Kind of.”

“Was she qualified?” You tease.

He laughs, rolling his eyes. “Funny.”

“I’m,” hiccup, “sorry.”

Jungkook scolds himself mentally over how endeared he is by your teasing and hazy minded playfulness. If he thinks about this situation in a professional light, the same one he carries as CEO, he already breeched protocol. But then again, he’s pretty sure that happened the moment he pulled you to him and you straddled his lap. But we don’t talk about that.

“You’re alright.” He gives you a kind smile, throwing you aback. “Do you- I can take you home, if you want. My driver’s out front.”

You ponder on this for a second too long, sending Jungkook’s brain into a frenzy. The protocol is non-existent at this point. “Are you sure? I- there’s a bus! I usually take the bus. From the ramen place. Best ramen in town. You should try it- anyways. The bus stop is right in front-”

He interrupts your ramble, voice going back to that stern edge. “I wouldn’t want you taking the bus this late at night.” He can see you contemplating, lips in that signature pout. “We can stop by the ramen place- if that’s why you’re so hesitant.”

You smile at him. A big, toothy smile that makes your whole face light up.

“Done deal.”

~

The scene that unfolds before you as you get back to your designated places in front of the bar is astonishing, to say the least.

The both of you come to a halt as you take in the little social circle both your group of friends have formed as they mingle, down shots and sip on their drinks casually.

When two worlds collide is an ironic way to put it but it couldn’t hold more accuracy.

Yoongi and Taehyung are invested in some recount about Sky’s strolls through Venezia – hard Z. Jiwoo fills in on that conversation here and there as he mixes drinks behind the bar. Their mouths are agape, taking in her wild stories as she over-dramatizes them for the purpose of having their full attention on her.

Opposite that, in their own little bubble, another mingle that borders on bonding forms as Jimin and Lucy sit awfully close to one another. It’s all giggles and coy smiles, little whispers in between stories as they grow visibly smitten with each other.

Jungkook’s voice takes them all out of said bubbles.

“I’m taking ___ home.” The moment the words leave his mouth he regrets them – an assortment of bemused faces gawking back at him. “To- I mean- I’m giving her a ride home.” He clarifies.

“Yeah, I’m feeling a bit tired,” you turn to Jiwoo, an apologetic smile on your face. “Let’s do Beetlejuice some time next week?” He only nods, returning your smile.

“Alright, Gguk. Get home safely – the two of you. Give Soori a forehead kiss from me.” Taehyung says.

“And me,” adds Yoongi.

Jungkook smiles at them, nodding before turning around. But he’s caught halfway through his action before a high-pitched voice calls out his name.

Sky walks over to him, offering a flirty gaze before she says, “Jungkook! It was so nice meeting you. I hope our paths cross again. I’m sure they will.” She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear.

“Until then,” Jungkook tells her, bowing slightly, shooting a quick smile her way before he walks away.

You are not one to thrive off of other people’s miseries but yes, a wicked grin adorns your face at the sight of hers. Taehyung catches this, raising a brow your way. Your smile drops, quickly facing away from him. Out of sight, out of mind.

You walk over to Lucy instead, smiling at her before you say, “Hey, Lu. You coming with?”

She looks at you, a sheepish smile forming at her lips. “Uh… I think I’ll stay. Text me when you get home, though!”

“Sure. Will do. Let me know when you’re heading back as well.”

She nods and gives you a hug, which you return – letting yourself melt into her.

You can quite literally feel the happiness she radiates.

Jimin looks at you, smiling sweetly.

He’s to blame. You smile back at him.

His little moment of bliss doesn’t last long as he feels Jungkook come to a stand right next to him.

“Minie,” he wraps his hand around his friend, sweetly bringing him closer as he laughs. But Jimin knows his alter motives. “Don’t fuck my nanny’s best friend.”

“Ggukie,” Jimin laughs, over-dramatizing the action, a saccharine ring to his voice when he says, “don’t fuck your nanny.”

~

You are sitting in the backseat of Jungkook’s Range Rover. He’s by your side, mindlessly scrolling through his phone. He bounces his left leg over and over again and as you fixate on it you begin to feel dizzy, head spinning a little.

You have no idea how you get the two of you to the ramen place with the half-assed directions you give his driver but once you’re pulling up, you’re telling him your orders and Jungkook is handing him his credit card over before he exits the car and heads to your personal idea of adult Disneyland – the ramen place.

You think about how this poor man is about to hand the cashier a black, sleek card to pay for greasy under-priced, in your humble opinion, ramen. The thought is so funny to you in your drunken state, you start chuckling.

Jungkook’s eyes snap from his phone to you, frowning in confusion as to what it is you find so amusing. His bewildered expression just makes the whole situation funnier and you’re full on laughing now – head thrown back in your seat, one hand over your mouth and the other over your chest as you try to control it. But your attempts are in vain because your laughter only gets louder, filling the space around you at an alarming rate.

Jungkook stares at you. He’s stuck in a very 50/50 state of mind. 50% dumbfounded and 50% praying to all the gods and angels above your laughter never comes to a stop. And with that, it becomes contagious. He tries to fight it but there’s no use as he feels it bubbling inside his chest and then – he’s laughing with you. Lightly at first but then his cackles reach the same pitch as yours.

The moment holds its little infinity for a while and then your laughter begins to die down – shoulders still shaking slightly as you come down.

You melt into the seat, head turning slightly as you glance at him, his eyes glassy as he begins to come down, too. He does the same, head dropping a little to the side until his eyes meet yours. This side of him makes you feel light – your chest fluttery, on a steady ascend and you never want to come down.

He stills. That soft blink, warm smile making your head spin – now drunk on how ethereal he looks. Not only him, but his whole essence. So pliant, so soft. A soul that finds laughter contagious. You can physically feel your heart contract at this. It hurts, tugging at your every string in the sweetest way possible.

“What was so funny?” He murmurs, that smile never faltering – only getting impossibly softer.

“I don’t remember,” you say, even though you do. You just can’t bring your brain to process any other thought that isn’t him. Him and his big, doe eyes and the way the night reflects on them. Him and his light.

He hums, absentmindedly. The silence that fills the car is dense but you welcome it. You both do as your fingers begin tracing irregular patterns on the leather seats, right between the two of you. They move mindlessly and your eyes close, wishing with all your heart it was his skin under your touch. You can hear the steady rise and fall of his breathing and you just wish he’d come closer – close enough to get lost in yours.

Your mouth voices out your wishes, encompassing them in an ever-so-soft,

“Please.”

And Jungkook can’t think straight.

He hasn’t been able to think straight since your laughter filled the closed space of his car, crawling inside his chest and settling in places he didn’t even know still carried themselves in screaming colour.

His mind had lost all composure the moment you looked into his eyes as if they carried the whole galaxy in them. Since that moment, his heart had taken on the lead.

He moves closer to you, sliding against the leather seats. He does this so swiftly you only notice when your eyes slowly flutter open, butterflies swarming your tummy as your wish grants itself before your eyes.

You give him a dopey smile, pulling yourself closer to him until you’re both a breath away from touching. You wish for that breath, too.

Your fingers dance from the now tight-knit space between you to his legs, slowly moving up his thigh, the tips of your index and middle finger beginning a stroll with no apparent direction. Jungkook can barely feel your touch against the thick fabric of his jeans but the thought alone sends shivers down his spine, shutting his eyes closed for a moment as he tries to gather all the sensations he’s feeling. As he tries to reason with his rational mind and his heart.

All his thoughts come back to you.

His hand hovers over your thigh for a second and, before he can attest to his actions, they close around it – feeling the smooth of your skin, promptly joined by a million goosebumps as your body gives into his touch. He squeezes slightly, unable to control himself. Unable to control the ardent need to have you impossibly closer, to imprint his touch on you until you can feel it for days.

Your hand flies to his cheek, cupping it gently as you let yourself stare into his eyes – hoping they can speak your desire with words that shy away from you the more real the moment becomes. He keens into your touch, face nuzzling into your hand, lips grazing at the soft skin of your palm. He closes his eyes as you run your nails gently down the smooth of his cheek, the sensation making him squeeze your thigh harder, making your whole body shudder as a whimper leaves your mouth. The faint sound has him opening his eyes and they begin a slow dance between your gaze and your lips, back and forth until the feeling at the pit of your stomach grows unbearable. You move an inch closer, pulling his face to yours with the hand that stills on his cheek.

“___,” his voice is but a whisper, “you’re- drunk. We shouldn’t.”

He exhales loudly and as much as you want to give him a detailed recount on how his touch activated all of your senses to the point of sobering you up, you don’t.

“Okay, just… stay here? Please?” you say.

He leans his head forward until your foreheads are touching, nodding slowly as he closes his eyes and lets himself go – falling into your touch and enjoying the way you feel as you melt into his.

Your hands snake all the way to his hair, tangling in his locks – realizing just how much you missed how receptive he is when you touch him there. Your nails scrape down his scalp, softly – an idle touch that does more to Jungkook than he can begin to grasp. His hand comes up to rest at the small of your waist, snaking his arm around it, pushing you closer. You feel restless – a need that doubles as greed at this point invading your senses, begging for him. You pull at his hair slightly and he hisses – so close to your mouth you can feel the vibrations of the sound graze your lips.

“Fuck, ___-,”

The sound of the front door frightens the both of you – jumping abruptly at the sound. It takes Jungkook three seconds too long to register what’s happening but when he does, he removes his hand from around your waist and, in a collected manner, goes back to his seat.

He thanks the driver as he passes him the food, and places it on the floor between the two of you.

You sit there, motionless – trying to absorb the previous moment before it completely drifts from your mind. Like a needle to a soapy bubble. Gone in a second.

You can’t figure out if your heart is restored or bent all over again.

You feel Jungkook shuffle closer to you until he’s flushed to your side. Before you can utter a word, his arm comes up, reaching across your body for the seatbelt before he pulls it down, safely strapping you into the seat. You think he’s about to pull away again but his forehead comes to rest against your temple, your breath hitches in your throat at the mere contact.

“I’m sorry,” he exhales into the soft of your cheek, nose nuzzling against it for a second before his warmth leaves your skin.

You can feel your heartbeat pounce against your every pulse point, erratically threatening to leave its safe space. But despite its restless temper the answer comes to you clearly.

It’s restored.

~

Your head pounds against your skull as your eyes begin to flutter open – the god-awful hangover you can already feel kicking at your nerves as you adapt to the light that shines through your window. You have a bad habit of not closing your blinds before going to bed and today, it’s a problem.

You lay there, staring at the ceiling as you try to steady the beat of your heart at the recollection of last night’s events. At the mere thought of it – of his face, so painfully close to yours, his eyes taking you in, his touch on your skin – the butterflies settle back into what seems to be their favourite place lately.

It’s hard to put a feeling so ethereal into words. You wonder how it’s possible for something so delicate to hold such complexity yet at the same time for it to feel like the easiest thing in the world.

Jungkook is, without a doubt, an enigma. All the blind spots in a puzzle that feels impossible to bind together yet when it fits, the way your bodies found each other’s yesterday, it falls into the big picture seamlessly.

You’re mad at your brain for not letting you fully enjoy the light, soaring feeling of your heart – the way you feel warm all over when you think of his face. The same face your gaze held impossibly close yesterday. Every single mole on his honey skin, the way your mind fell in a trance, an endless game of connect the dots as you held a particular focus for every single one. It’s the closest you’ve felt to adoration and as you pulled him closer, you decided you wanted to do just that to him.

Adore him.

You groan, hands coming to cover your face as you try to collect yourself, falling back into the sensical scheme of things. The reality – your reality.

You need coffee and fresh air – a much needed walk in the park with a, presumably, loved-up roommate and best friend. Who, most likely probably, has one hell of a story to tell.

You get up from your bed, making your way to the closet as you retrieve a pair of biker shorts and a beat-up vintage Rolling Stones shirt you found in a garage sale for a fiver. It is your comfort shirt and immediately, its superstitious effect soothes you.

You make a pit stop in the kitchen, brewing some coffee and fixing it just the way Lucy likes it – warm and sweet, a little drizzle of cinnamon at the top. You smile, remembering the way hers shone last night. You throw a handful of ice on your own cup before you grab them both and head to her bedroom.

“Good morning, lover.” You say.

She’s wide awake, resting on her side, cheek flushed to her hand as she smiles at her phone screen that she holds awfully close to her face.

“Hi,” her answer is brief but her tone of voice is laced with a sweetness you don’t miss.

“One to ten?”

“Ten,” she ponders for a minute, “thousand.”

You gasp, a shriek leaving your lips as her giggles join your excitement.

“What? Oh my- wait. What are you doing in your own bed? Is he- is he somewhere in here?” You begin scanning the room frantically.

She rolls her eyes playfully. “Where exactly would I hide a full Jimin in here, ___?”

You visibly melt at the softness her voice takes at the mention of his name.

“I need to know. Everything.” You place the coffees in her nightstand before you’re jumping inside her covers as she makes room for you – both your arms resting in her soft pillows, head cocked in the palm of your hands.

“Wait- you’re not mad?” She wonders, voice a tone nervous.

“Why would I be mad, Lu?”

“Because, you know… he’s Jungkook’s best friend.”

You shake your head softly, smiling at her before you reassure her, “No. I’m not mad. How could I ever be? You look so happy.”

“After the bar, we went to that diner – the one close to the library. We walked all the way there, too. He held my hand and…,” her eyes glisten and your heart flutters a bit. “It felt… right. We sat in a booth and talked. For hours on end. I could hear his voice forever.”

“Oh, Lu…” you lay flat on your back, staring at the ceiling. “Tell me more.”

“He kissed me.” She mimics your previous move. “I’ve never been kissed like that. I’ve never felt so… wanted. He broke down walls I didn’t even know I had, ___.”

Your hand reaches for hers, intertwining your fingers together.

“All this time I thought I had an idea of… love that was so unrealistic. I didn’t think it could happen, let alone to me. But he’s the closest thing to it. He’s so real.”

You think about your years of friendship with Lucy. The way you’ve witnessed as she’s changed, matured, grown out of beliefs and ideas that once kept her innocent – young. Yet the one thing she didn’t ever let go of is the idea that she was deserving of a love so strong, so striking from the very beginning.

If it’s not a hell yes then it’s a hell no, she would say, after countless disappointments that left her picking up shattered little pieces of heart as she gave them all so transparently, with a vulnerability you admired.

“He’s your hell yes.” You tell her.

She smiles, nodding her head. “I didn’t… tell him that, you know, I’ve never been with someone… like that. But I wanted to. I wanted him. Yet when the moment transitioned and it could’ve gone further than a kiss, he told me he didn’t want it to be like that. He said there was no rush. That we could take our time. That if I let him, he could literally lay me in a bed of roses.” She giggles, a bit shy at voicing out the memory.

You turn to her. “Lucy, I’m not going to have to resort to re-reading Norwegian Wood for a fix of romance. I have my very own starstruck one right next door!”

Your loud laughs fill the room and it settles down the air of uncertainty around you.

“He feels like every romance novel I’ve ever read. And more.”

~

A shiver runs down your spine, making you shudder. You don’t quite know if the cause is the abnormal chill that breezes through the summer morning or the nerves that brew at the pit of your stomach, traveling all the way up your throat, making you feel a bit sick.

You stand in front of Jungkook’s front door, waiting for the door to open – Mrs. Chae’s soft features offering you a smile, the smell of dark coffee, the glossy morning dew that adorns the green grass. Anything to make this routine you’ve adapted for the past two months feel familiar – normal. To give you the comfort of what becomes the ordinary once you settle into its steady rhythm.

The comfort, however, does not come.

When Mrs. Chae opens the door, her soft features are slightly fallen, as if she was immensely drawn into a restless train of thought. Soori is in her arms, abnormally quiet for her usual cheerful morning state.

You frown, taking her in your arms as her little body leans forward, grabby arms reaching for you.

“Hey, princess. What are you doing here, huh?” You coo, placing a soft peck on top of her forehead.

“Good morning, ___.” Mrs. Chae says, that warm smile back in its place.

“Good morning, Mrs. Chae. Did she have breakfast already?” You ask her, bouncing Soori in your hold a little, emitting a giggle from her. There she is.

“Not yet, no. Mr. Jungkook has asked me to tell you to meet him in his office.”

“Oh. Sure, let me just-”

“Now.” She senses your discomfort as you wince slightly at her words and she softens, “as in, as soon as you got here.”

“Okay. I’ll… just go then.” You say, placing Soori back in her arms before you turn around, heading the way that leads to the long hallway.

You glance back as you hear Soori’s faint whines behind you, fidgeting in Mrs. Chae’s hold as her tiny fists open and close in your direction.

You’re scared.

You don’t know exactly what to expect – a plethora of intrusive thoughts had been overwhelming you all weekend, trying to make out just how Jungkook would navigate about the whole situation.

Before he dropped you off, you had turned to him, waiting for him to say something – anything, to settle the nerves that were already starting to blossom as you became aware of just how far the line between wonder and temptation had been crossed this time.

The look in his eyes had been gentle, understanding even. Letting you know that he, too, was trying to make sense of it. It made you feel hopeful, to think that maybe, just maybe, he’d be willing to hold onto your moment for longer, to let you in as you both figured it out. Together. But your heart sank as his gaze dropped, voice back to that frivolous nature you’d reluctantly accustomed to.

‘See you Monday,’ is all he said.

Monday found you in front of the door to his office, hands shaky as you mustered the strength to finally knock on it.

You do – a couple of seconds of hesitation before you decide that it’s inevitable. Whatever happens, it’s all inevitable.

“Come in,” you hear his voice from the inside, a little muffled but already, the sound of it makes your shoulders drop, bracing yourself for the worst.

“Morning,” you say, closing the door before you lean against it, hands still behind you gripping onto the doorknob.

“Good morning.” His eyes remain glued to the stack of paperwork that sits in front of him for what feels like an eternity. He looks up at you, his head leaning to the side a bit – something you’ve noticed he does out of habit when he’s lost in thought.

“Are you going to fire me,” you run your words, an agitated ring to them.

He just stares at you but nothing in his dark irises give way to what exactly he’s about to say next and this makes you all the more nervous. He senses it, the way your chest heaves rapidly, shoulders tensed.

“No.” You look up at him, a mix of shock and relief taking on your expression. “Sit down, please.”

Your steps are somewhat lethargic, the initial nerve not having fully died down and now simply merging into another type of worry. Once you finally settle into your seat, your eyes lock with his.

“Jungkook,” you begin.

“We’ve crossed… a lot of boundaries. I want to apologize for that.”

His words feel like a stab, right at your heart. Sharp, cold, shooting pain through all your nerve endings. It hurts – thinking he sees what you did as something worth apologizing for. A mistake. It hurts and breaks and there’s nothing more than you want to do than ask him to take it back.

“There is nothing to apologize for, I- wanted it. I want-”

“I think we got carried away. We misinterpreted a lot of things. It’s not real, ___. It was all just a side effect of… curiosity.”

You.

He continues, looking away from your eyes. He fears that if he lets himself get lost in them for yet another minute he might break. He might finally lace all the words they hold together and he might just have to coincide with them.

He rather his own not tell you their truth, either.

You remain silent.

“I don’t want Soori to lose you, ___. We- can’t afford to lose you. You’re good for her and that is the most important thing to me. So… this can’t happen again. I hope I’ve made it clear.” He adds, eyes cold as they meet yours once again. You look away, fearing you might give into the impending tears.

“You won’t. Lose me, I mean." It takes you a minute but your eyes land back on his – hurt evident in them but something else Jungkook had yet to become familiar with. A void that unsettles him. “And yes. You’ve made it very clear.”

His eyes on you break you further – second by second. He just stares and it makes you angry. His carelessness makes you angry. His very little courage to try.

But your heart doesn’t let that feeling linger – it doesn’t let you put him in such light. You think of his own heartbreak, the same one that landed you in his door. You truly are a side effect, but not of curiosity, no. You are a side effect of the most painful thing to ever happen to him.

The realization settles upon you – shattering your heart, its fragility taking you aback as all the sense you make of the situation doubles as broken glass, breaking at your skin as you grasp at them.

It isn’t real. It never was. You have been the consequence of a loss of control. His heart walked away and you walked in. It never was real because he’d never see you as more than that.

“Can I go now,” you ask and he simply nods.

You don’t look back when you walk away and you might all of your courage in order to collect yourself.

For Soori.

And even if with half a heart, for him.

~

Her light is contagious and you’re grateful for it.

As the hours drag along you let yourself be softened by Soori’s laughter, her ever-green wonder, her loud baby babble that makes you wonder what exactly goes on in that head of hers.

She’s so loved. She’s so needed.

She’s the heart-mender and she doesn’t even know.

You rock her to sleep, chuckling a little as you look down at her, only to find her eyes wide open looking up at you – no hint of sleepiness in them.

“Hey, you. Go to sleep, missy. When you wake up, we’re going to eat and read and play.” She smiles at you, two tiny front teeth peeking. “We can have some of those dino nuggets your daddy’s afraid of because they’re non-gm-something.” She giggles at your words, nuzzling closer to your chest, lulling herself to sleep with the faint beat of your heart.

You bring her closer and when she falls, body growing heavier in your arms, you let yourself hold her for a little longer.

You can smell him on her.

Love is fragile but not futile, as opposed to feelings.

You break, letting yourself quietly cry as you sway her from side to side.

~

The pressure building in his knuckles as they land on the punching-bag is painful but Jungkook can’t risk gloved hands with a speedy Soori on the loose.

He looks down at her, sat in her play mat that is spread on the grass, a diverse selection of all of her favourite toys laid down in front of her. She doesn’t seem to be too interested, though. Tugging the fabric of her shirt up as she pokes her belly button in total awe.

Jungkook smiles at the sight, giggling softly to himself as to not break her out of her most recent discovery.

He’s proud of himself – of the way he’s managed to make their weekends worthwhile. It might sound ridiculous but he puts an exuberant amount of pressure on himself to keep his eleven-month-old entertained. He still hasn’t figured out if it’s hard or a belly-button-poking type of easy. So, he tries many things – some fancy some simple. She seems to enjoy the simpler things in life, though – her favourite being the water and this one pink rubber ducky that’s seen better days.

They’ve done it all this Saturday. Having woken up bright and early, made a mess out of the kitchen in a highly successful attempt at making French toast – another new favourite for Soori – and swimming in the pool, rubber ducky included.

He enjoys her company and he likes to believe she enjoys his.

Jungkook finds comfort in how hands-on he has to be with her new found mobility. She’s quick and sneaky and requires his full attention so she’d been doing an excellent job at keeping Jungkook distracted from the calamity of his own thoughts.

It’d been two weeks since your talk.

He’d done it all. Everything in his book to run away from his feelings. Even more – everything he could think of to ignore how restless he felt.

To the blind eye – nothing seemed to have changed. Morning kitchen meetings, doorway goodbyes, Soori falling into his arms in the same place he’d left her in and then you were gone until it was time to do it all over again the next day.

But, to Jungkook, nothing held your warmth – the light he’d grown used to. The one he didn’t quite realized he looked forward to every morning until it stopped keeping him warm.

You both did a stellar job at hiding it, though. Keeping on civil smiles and brief greetings – only letting yourselves linger on the eye contact for long enough so as to not dissipate the distance that you’d put within yourselves.

He throws a hard punch, not quite realizing the harshness of the action. It startles Soori, eyes coming to look at her dad in total confusion, chin quivering in the wake of a cry.

“No, no, baby. I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” he picks her up, bringing her close to him. “No more of that, okay? It’s done. It’s bye-bye.” He presses his lips to her temple as she calms down.

He feels stuck in a grey spot. Unknown. It makes him feel uneasy, just so fucking restless. His curiosity never died down and it’s then that it dawns upon him – he never let you in enough to know what the pain of losing you would actually be like. To know enough about you as to miss you – need you.

If the void in his chest is big enough to fit his longing now, he can’t imagine what it’d be like to know you enough to love you.

He reaches for his pocket, retrieving his phone. He unlocks it – pulse racing as he dials.

“Hey, Ggukie. Talk to me.” Taehyung’s voice rings against the speakers.

“I need your help.”

~

You’re being swarmed by little arms, tucking you in their embrace as they tickle you.

You pretend to squirm and attempt to release yourself from their hold, gasping in surprise as their loud giggles fill the room.

“Okay, okay. Free Miss ___.” You say but it is a lost cause as a troop of very determined kids try to seek revenge for the tickle attack they’d ensued from you a couple of minutes prior.

Dae is the first one to break free – his voice loud and excited as he says, “Uncle Jungoo!”

You freeze. Looking to your side to directly meet his eyes. He wears Soori in a baby carrier, a pretty yin and yang design adorning the front. He gives you a small smile. You don’t quite return it but you don’t divert your gaze from his. You smile at Soori, though, who’s jumping in his hold at the sight of you.

You walk closer to them, smiling at Taehyung as Dae jumps into his arms, showing him the drawing he’d painted during his free time.

“This is amazing, bud. You’re such an artiste. Mommy and daddy are going to have to start displaying your work in the gallery, huh?” He says, earning himself a big, crooked grin from Dae who nods enthusiastically. “Hey, ___.”

“Hey, he did so well today.” You say, smiling at Dae.

Soori shrieks, in need of your attention. You turn to her, smiling wide before you come to play with her little hands that stick from either side of the carrier.

“Hey, baby girl. What a nice surprise,” you coo, coming to plant soft kisses on her plump cheeks.

“Hey…” Jungkook says, voice low.

“Hey.”

“Can we- um… can I talk to you?”

“Sure.”

Taehyung grabs Soori from the carrier and helps Jungkook strap himself free, shooting you a warm smile before you’re both turning around, heading for a quieter space in the library, walking through the high shelves stacked with books.

“How are you,” he starts. He sounds nervous and it unsettles you.

“I’m fine. What’s wrong? Why are you here?”

“I’m sorry.” He says, your cold stare has his mind running around in circles. All the courage he’d mustered to come here fading away.

“For what exactly? I think you’ve apologized for your so-called mistakes already. No need to do that again.”

“I don’t think we got nearly close to making a mistake.”

You scoff. “Did we not? it seemed that’s all you saw it as back then, though.”

“Because it might be, ___.” He defends, voice growing exasperated.

“What do you know?” You whisper, tone harsh.

“I know enough. About mistakes and where they land you. How they feel like once you’re left cleaning up the mess they make.”

“Well, it’s good we didn’t fully commit to said mistake now, isn’t it?” Your words are venomous and they take you by surprise – but above all, they’re laced with pain. So much pain.

“Maybe it’s good. Maybe it’s bad.”

“I can’t with the back and forth anymore, Jungkook. What did you come here to tell me?”

“I can’t live with not knowing.” He starts, “I want to know. The mistake has been made. It was made the moment I let myself look at you, really see you. And it was made the moment I let you see me.”

You tried to suppress them but a fresh set of tears pool in your eyes – making your eyes shiny. It tugs at Jungkook’s heart and he wants nothing more than to hold you.

You surrender, letting yourself weaken before him. “Please – stop calling it a mistake. That’s so unfair, Jungkook.”

“You’re not understanding me, ___. Mistakes – fuck. They rule this world. It’s the one constant in this life. You’re bound to make them. What I’m saying is that… they can turn out to be the best- the best thing to ever happen to you.”

He thinks of Soori.

Of the day he met Ira.

He thinks of how big of a mistake he thought he was making when he hired you.

“Why are you so afraid of making them, then?”

He huffs, shaking his head. “That can’t be further from the truth.”

“So, it’s just me then. I’m the one mistake you’re not willing to make.”

“You’re the mistake that terrifies me the most. The very one that tests all of my rationality.”

You look at him. Holding his gaze, eyes not faltering once. His chest flutters – the way it hadn’t done in a while because you haven’t looked at him like this since that night in the backseat of his car.

It takes you a moment but you break your silence, a soft whisper – one last attempt.

“Then let go. Free the rationality from your actions and… treat me the way you would if you only listened to your heart.”

Your gaze falls to the floor, fearing having to look at him as your heart breaks all over again.

You don’t see him take a step towards you. You only feel his index finger, coming to rest under your chin before he tilts it upwards – slowly. Letting himself look for your gaze. When he finds it you’re met with starry eyes. The galaxies, his light.

You think he’s about to pull away when his hand travels to the back of your neck, pulling you closer in one swift, determined movement. Your mouth barely lets out the gasp that forms in your throat before he’s crashing his lips into yours. Arms snaking around your waist, flushing his chest to yours – two heartbeats finally blending together. Mending together.

You fall into him, knees weakened, a light feel to your bones as your arms entangle around his neck, leaning your head to the side as you melt into his lips, parting your mouth to welcome his tongue, falling into the dance of his kiss.

It’s your hands on the soft, warm skin in the back of his neck.

And the feel of his pink bottom lip tucked in between yours.

It’s his body leaning forwards as yours falls backwards, his big hands enclosing around your waist, holding you to him.

Every feeling intensifies and shoots straight to your heart – settling in your chest, your heartbeat thundering against it until you can feel it in your throat, merging with all the words that you’ve reserved just for him and this moment since the minute your soul subconsciously leaped onto his – sealing a pact unbeknownst to you at the time.

It’s your heart, on his lips.

That’s what the world tastes like.

~

YEP. i literally went “now kiss.” AND I AM SO HAPPY ABOUT IT! i feel like all the words i’ve put into this story have amounted to this moment right here and i cant wait to keep navigating their relationship. it's real guys. it's happening. i hope you are happy too! also, team JUCY y’all won. honestly from the beginning of chapter two i was like YOONGI. YOONGI’S HER BOY. but tbh i like to make y’all happy and ALSO jiminie got me with his dumb jokes on the last one too lol. two hopeless romantics. i want what they have. i really hope u enjoyed this one and that your hearts are well. i can’t explain how much i appreciate the love and i am sending it right back. do let me know what u thought – love talking to u guys. xxxxxx

~

★taglist★

@roro-in-utopia @yiyi4657 @littlrmills14-blog @namjooningelsewhere @drownforryou @iwanttohitmyself @finelinememories @yukiehyukie @shatzkrinslinzki @bts-fic-recs-mess @kokoandkookie @subtlepjiminie @girl-meetsevil @kookiesbreaky @di0rgguk @bloopkook @babyrosieareroses @kookiecrumb @casspirit0705 @eclectictacozinewobbler @tickledpink55 @rjsmochii @dimcorner @miniiimee @vintageroses10 @amyniu @tessxblxckthorn @emotionaltrashcansblog @fangirl125reader

l'aquelarre

the cute owner of a strange shop casts a spell on you… or does he?

pairing: witch!jungkook x human!reader genre: magic au, angst, humour, fluff, s2f2l word count: 13.5k warnings: street harassment briefly in the intro, mentions of sex and death, drinking, swearing, addiction (to magic) author’s note: started making it. had a breakdown. bon appétit!

The moon shone brighter than usual tonight.

Even if your whole city were to suffer a blackout, you were certain it was bright enough to light the empty streets you were walking through. But beautiful as though the sight may be, it put you in a bad mood, as it was a sign of how late you had got out of work.

Keep reading

evolution of a lover’s heart | 01

the rules are simple: first one to take the virginity wins.

pairing: fuckboy!jk x f reader

genre: fluff, angst, college au, fuckboy au, bet au

word count: 8.1k

warnings: none for this part what i can remember.

masterlist

part ¼ | next>

© evolution of a lover’s heart is copyright jeonstudios 2021. this fic can not be modified, re-posted, or translated without my permission.

author’s note: so this first part ended up being too long so i split it up! hope you like it!

reference pictures for pt 1

Part one: the lover.

Among other, more impressive things, Jeon Jeongguk is forgetful. He’s suffered because of it on many occasions, but most of the time, it’s not a big deal, only resulting in a shrug of his shoulders or a light curse rolling off his tongue. 

Strangely enough, he’s never had a problem with faces or even names, but he still keeps his left hand inked.

The dark marks aren’t dug deep underneath his skin like the ones on his right arm; no, they vary in design and color from day to day depending on what he needs to do to pass his classes and the pens available. One thing he’ll remember. Two? Most likely that too. But three? Four? Better scribble words—that look like strange code with all the vowels removed to save space—down on his skin, just to be on the safe side.

Keep reading

DRABBLE GAMES

SEOKJIN

N/A

YOONGI

DIAMOND TRAIL | Mafia AU | Part I | Part II | Finale

MINT OCEAN | College AU | Oneshot

HOSEOK

LIBIDINE CAVE | Fantasy AU | Drabble 

COIN FLIP | Royal AU | Part I | Finale 

NAMJOON

N/A

JIMIN

RING LOVER | Boxer AU | Oneshot

TEARS ON A SILVER PLATTER | Idol AU | Oneshot 

TAEHYUNG

JEWELED SEA | Pirate AU | Part I | Finale

JUNGKOOK

UTOPIC DESIRE | Vampire AU | Part I | Part II | Part Finale 

UNDER THE MOONLIGHT | ABO AU | Oneshot

BREAK MY MIND’S EYE | Druglord AU | Part I | Part II | Part III | Part IV | Part V | Part VI | Part VII | Part VIII | Part IX | Part X | Special 

THINNING THREAD | Marriage AU | Oneshot 

BLOSSOMS AND BLOOD | Royal AU | Part I | Part II | Part III | Part IV

THE TALE OF AGAPE | God AU | Part I | Part II 

DEATHLY DRY SPELL | Succubus AU | Oneshot 

BOW TO YOU | Royal AU | Part I | Part II | Part III | Part IV

to build a home | chapter four

pairing: Jungkook x reader. ceo!jk + dilf!jk x nanny!oc

genre: strangers to lovers. angst. loads of plot. smut

word count: 8.8k

warnings: angst. omg intense mutual pining. these two istg. swearing. alcohol. hospital talk and needles. straddling. masturbation (m)

author’s note: i don’t even want to say anything because I can’t keep my mouth shut about how much I love these two fools. and the cute little human. and i feel like if i don’t keep my mouth shut I’m gonna ruin the experience but! i truly do hope you like this chapter. sorry for the delay – she’s a hefty, loaded one because HELLO? things are HAPPENING? things are happening and they’re getting sexy. ok i’m gonna leave now but i will say ggukie self love at the end🤫

This is a work of fiction. Please respect the members and their privacy. x

Chapter Four

There are unfinished entries in your journal. Thoughts that left as quick as they came, some that found you distracted or perhaps even abruptly taken out of the action.

You don’t normally go back to them, mind already too focused on the next thing by the time the blank page finds you again. You’ve come to understand feelings tend to have a futile nature when not nurtured enough and yours play no exception.

You go back to this one, though. Almost like fate. The leather bindings fall from your grasp, hitting the floor upside down. You quickly pick it up, afraid the pages will wrinkle. And then it finds you. It’s undated and relatively short.

There are five senses that make us receptive to the world around us. And if the world was a person, how would it sound like, smell like, look like, feel like… taste like?

“Good morning.” Jungkook’s voice startles you.

You gasp, a noise he can barely register, quickly coming to stand up from the awkward kneeling position he’d found you in on the floor.

“What are you doing up,” your question is brass and he raises his brow at you, amusement evident in his face. “Morning, I mean- uh… it’s early.”

He lets out a faint chuckle, allowing himself to take you in. Sleep hasn’t fully rubbed off from your face – your hair’s a bit ruffly, eyes still puffy, and he can make up the creases from the pillow on your cheek. You fidget slightly, shivering from the morning cold. He notices you’re barefoot, balancing yourself from one foot to the other to escape the chilly feeling of the tiles. His eyes travel up and as much as he tries to fight it, he can’t help but observe how quickly you’ve taken the sun on your skin, a layer of golden hues adorning your legs that makes you glow when enhanced with the early stages of the morning sun that reflect off the balcony window.

This is where his eyes should stop at, he knows. But they don’t. They continue the dance upwards in such a seamless way it takes Jungkook a second to realize this is the first time he’s ever perceived you in such light. Your pyjama shorts are so small they’d be laughable if his brain wasn’t fighting with how little you’re leaving to his imagination, and the fabric of your tank top is worn out enough to be sheer. He knows you don’t intend to but the way you’re holding your journal to you is pushing up at your breasts that, once again, do him no favours with the visual the low-cut baby tee provides.

Stop.

“I wanted to have some coffee before Soori’s up,” he says and you nod. “You?”

Your gaze falls down and you fidget again. “I wanted to watch the sunrise.”

“Good,” he says because if he lets himself speak any further the words would be far different. ‘Cute’ the one echoing in his head. “Do you want some coffee?”

“That’d be nice. Thank you.”

The sound of the Nespresso machine kick-starting takes you by surprise, startling you once again. He chuckles at this.

“Jumpy this morning, aren’t we?”

“It’s awfully noisy for something that claims to be top-notch technology,” you defend.

“What? You’re telling me you brew your coffee every morning?” His voice doubles on patronizing but in reality, he’s just curious – amazed even.

“It tastes better.”

“It also takes double the time.”

You raise a brow, tentatively. “I like to take my time in the mornings.”

You’ve won this round because all Jungkook can do is stare at you. He stares and he mentally scolds himself for the effect your words have on him. For the places his mind goes. Why he found himself twisting such innocent words is beyond him but he can’t quite tame them down. He doesn’t like the loss of control yet he wonders why he keeps welcoming it.

He hums and you silently take your victory. You walk closer to the kitchen counter, gently placing your journal on top of it. The swirls of the marble of the smooth surface contrasting against the leather where your fingers trace the uneven shape of a star, over and over again.

And if the world was a person, how would it sound like, smell like, look like, feel like… taste like?

It’s way too early in the morning to quieten down your thoughts. It’s way too early in the morning to pretend his eyes on you didn’t send shivers down your spine, butterflies to your tummy, aggressive flutters to your chest.

Jeon Jungkook is not the world. But he sure as hell resembles all of its beauty and stark. It’s never-ending paradox, the way it starts and stops at any given moment. The way everything is temporary but has you wishing it wasn’t.

Reference.

Coffee, you decide. The world would smell like coffee and a mix of the clean but soft laundry detergent and the faint cedarwood you can sometimes make out when in his proximity. You can smell it on Soori in the mornings when he passes her over to you – the soft baby smell of her head and Jungkook’s cologne on her clothes after having her in his arms.

He turns around and places a cup of coffee in front of you and you try to lock the smell of this particular one somewhere in your head. You thank him, giving him a smile.

“You’re welcome. I’ll make sure to brew it next time.” His voice is raspy and playful and lacks the edge it usually sports.

It’s comfort, you think. The world sounds like comfort. The morning bliss of that time of day where the world hasn’t picked its pace yet – nothing feels heavy and you navigate through the stillness and pleasures of its quiet nature.

“You know… I grind my coffee beans, too.” You tease.

He smiles before narrowing his eyes at you. “Now you’re just abusing my kindness.”

Soori’s baby monitor beeps, signalling that she’s starting to wake up.

“I can go get her,” you say.

“No, no. I’ll go.” He says, already making his way to her nursery.

You can hear him coo at her from the nursery – a soft voice, easing her into wakefulness. She’s quiet for a minute until she lets out that excited shriek you’ve come to realize she reserves for Jungkook.

A couple of minutes later they come out of the room. Her silky hair’s a mess and Jungkook keeps running his hands over it to try to tame down. You laugh a little and her eyes snap up, a big smile forming at the sight of you. She offers you her giraffe which, in Soori language, is the best greeting there is. You walk over to her, grabbing her cheeks in your hands and bringing her face closer to you before you plant a kiss on her forehead.

“Good morning, princess.” You coo.

Jungkook bounces her a little, a soft baby voice when he says, “we’re very ready to fill that tummy up this morning, aren’t we, baby?” he brings her whole body to his face, blowing raspberries on her little belly. Her loud giggles fill the room as you walk to the kitchen to make her bottle.

“Thank you,” he says and you simply smile.

They head to the couch and he props her on top of a pillow, his body coming to rest against the cushions as he gets comfortable, too. From the kitchen you can take in the view pretty well. The way he strokes her face as he whispers things to her you can’t make out, her tiny baby babble almost as if trying to engage in conversation. He nuzzles his face next to hers and lets out a surprised shriek of his own when she tugs at his hair, tight grip on it, giggling at his evident pain.

You walk over to them and softly grab a hold of her little hand, releasing the big lock of hair she’d captured in it.

“Thank you,” he laughs. “How is she so strong?”

“She’s super baby. Right, Soo?” you say, passing Jungkook the bottle.

“Yes, she is.” He looks fondly at her, so much love in his eyes it’s almost contagious. She makes grabby hands at her bottle and he chuckles before complying. “Enjoy your food, baby.”

You let yourself stare at them for a second. Her chubby hand on top of his inked one that holds her bottle, their gazes never leaving one another – her eyes a carbon copy of his own. The love he gives her settles in your chest, a selfless feeling that softens it before it makes it feel airy – giddy almost.

Her gaze locks on the bottle for a little too long and she goes a little cross-eyed. Jungkook laughs at this – nose scrunching up, bunny teeth on display, full tenderness falling on his features.

This is what it would look like, you conclude – the world.

~

Jungkook’s friends are an army of adults that only look like adults because of the number of kids they seem to be either chasing after or keeping entertained. Your mouth gapes in slight surprise as you take in the sight before you as you enter the restaurant.

Soori is in your arms as you follow behind Jungkook, who’s being swarmed by his friends in various congratulatory praises over the new hotel and a couple of teasing over how he’s all grown up now. It’s a cute sight to see and you can’t help but chuckle softly as you see him get flustered by all the attention, a faint blush tinting his cheeks.

You spot Mai, whose smile widens at the sight of you.

“___!” She says, running towards you before pulling you in a hug, Soori included. “And my favorite girl. Hi baby Blue.” You pass Soori to her, who jumps in excitement. “So glad to see you. The both of you.”

“You too, Mai.” You say, eyes still accommodating to all the new faces.

“Ha, you’ll get used to it, don’t worry.” She reassures once she senses your overwhelm.

Truth is, you thought Mai and Taehyung and their bubbly, welcoming personalities were an exception in Jungkook’s life. At times, it left you wondering just how they’d ever come to meet and bond considering their contrasting natures. But a quick scan across the room has you realizing that perhaps that exception multiplied. It even leaves you wondering if it was never an exception to begin with – if he connected with these people because he, too, was bubbly and welcoming once. The thought alone makes you wince in surprise. Mai laughs besides you.

“Here,” she starts, “let me give you the run down. We’ve all known each other since high school – I know, crazy. Well, with the exception of some. But let’s not get ahead of ourselves, shall we?” You simply nod. “That’s Jin – Ggukie’s cousin. He’s also super involved in the hotels, and whatnot. And that’s Suelgi, his wife. They preached a whole lot about how they didn’t want any children but God must’ve found that funny because they sorta slipped and ended up having twins.” She smiles, pointing at a little boy and a girl, a perfect copy and paste of one another, currently being chased down by two men. “Hye and Haneul. They’re five.”

“Looks like the cutest slip up to me,” you say.

“Without a doubt,” she nods. “The two clowns keeping those two busy are Jimin and Yoongi – bachelors of the group. That’s a nice way of saying very single. But they couldn’t be more different. One’s a hopeless romantic and the other enjoys his solitude and sleeps too much. I’ll let you make your guesses.”

You let out a chuckle. “Not to judge a book by its cover but I think the pink hair gives Jimin away.”

“Correct. Moving on, that’s Namjoon and Iseul. High school sweethearts with parenting skills that puts Discovery, Home & Health to shame. They’re currently raising the future president and Dae’s favourite human, Sun. Yes, like the Sun. She’s six and smart beyond her years.” She points to the little girl, curly hair framing her delicate features as she patiently helps Dae colour in what looks like a Mandala.

You smile. “I like her name.”

“She lives up to it,” she returns. “Last but certainly not least, that’s Hobi and Kenny, his girlfriend. If the face rings a bell don’t worry, she’s got a pretty famous one. She’s a model. They’ve been together for a while and I, for one, can’t wait for them to reproduce because I mean, look at those genes. Beautiful babies.” She says the last part a little louder as she notices Kenny listening in on the conversation.

“Wow… you’re all so…-”

“Disparate?” Mai asks, a playful tone lacing her words.

You chuckle softly. “Maybe.”

“Not what you were expecting, huh?”

“No. Jungkook is just so…,” you stop yourself, not wanting to overstep or cross the line of professionality.

But there’s no such line in Mai’s eyes. “He’s not. Like that, I mean. He’s not… this. He is bubbly. Probably bubblier than all of us combined at times. And kind. Generous. The biggest goofball, hence why he’s the favourite uncle. And Soori’s a perfect mirror of that… of him. All her goodness… that’s him.”

Mai words affect you more than she probably realizes. It’s the way she talks about him. The way that your eyes look for him in the crowded room and find him next to Sun, colouring with Dae in his lap. That smile in his face that becomes unshakable when he’s surrounded by pure, unadulterated love. You’ve come to realize that smile holds an omnipresent power that settles in places you can’t quite reach – and it grows, grows, grows. It grows until your heart feels fragile. A fragility that makes you susceptible to the world around you. To the way things look, smell, sound like. A vulnerability that takes in everything as if it was the very first time – a growing curiosity that tugs at your heart in wonder. What does it feel like, what does it taste like?

“I just hope… I hope I can be of help.” Is all you can muster.

“I think you are. I think you will be. More than you’ll probably imagine.”

~

Jungkook’s eyes narrow down at his friends. From his spot on the table next to Sun and Dae, he has a clear view of the sneaky little circle they’ve formed in his absence. He follows their line of vision slowly until his eyes land on you. Soori’s playmat had been laid down on the floor and Mai and Kenny had joined you as you all played with Soori and engaged in conversation.

“Hey, I’ll be right back okay, buddy? You’re doing so well. I love the colours.” He tells Dae as he gently places him back on the chair. He only nods, full focus on his Mandala.

He walks over to his friends, coming to a stand right next to them. Only they seem to not really notice his presence.

He snaps his fingers once. “Hey, you bunch of troglodytes. Quit it.”

“Can she babysit for me?”

“Jimin, you don’t have any kids,” Namjoon says, his eyes still glued to you.

“It’s me. I’m the kid.”

Jungkook’s flat palm comes up, promptly hitting him in the back of his head. “Shut up.”

Hobi snorts. “He’s only joking, Ggukie. Don’t get too jealous.”

“I’m not jealous, you idiots. She’s Soori’s nanny. Don’t be creepy.”

Jin finally turns to Jungkook, face contorting in confusion before he asks, “wait. How old is she?”

“Twenty-three.” Taehyung replies, sipping leisurely on a mimosa.

“Ah! Then go in peace, Gguk.” Jin says.

He scoffs. “Go in- what is that supposed to mean?”

“Jungkook, don’t be dense.” Yoongi’s voice is monotone as he speaks. “Contrary to your filthy beliefs we were commenting on how good she’s with Soori.”

“Where’s your head, Jungkookie, hm?” Taehyung teases.

“Nowhere.” He says, defensively.

“Yeah, right.” Yoongi murmurs.

Hobi puts an arm around Jungkook, whispering, “although we won’t judge if, you know, your mind is going to filthy places.”

“Stop objectifying her.” Jungkook doesn’t miss the protective tone that takes over his voice.

Jimin’s eyes snap to Jungkook. “Oh. Oh… shit. Okay. There goes my chance. Got it dude.”

“Yeah,” Taehyung huffs.

Jungkook rolls his eyes at them, waving his hand dismissively.

He tries not to think about it. He tries not to think about his friends pointing out how gentle you are with Soori. How much she seems to love you. He tries to ignore the other attributes they insinuate on.

Jungkook tries, and tries, and tries but with every glance in your direction, with every inevitable pull, with every ounce of subjectivity masked by objectivity… he fails.

~

You’d pretty much been Jungkook’s shadow all day. From overseeing the final details before the inauguration, lunch with his parents, a tour of the, might you add, impressive premises all the way to the speeches over bubbly champagne and watching him cut the ribbon.

It was eye catching, you’ll admit. The pretty dresses and the bigger-than-life feeling of it all. It was a star-studded event and you don’t miss how easily he attracts them. The stars.

He fits so well in this world. Navigating it with ease, mastering the art of the small talk. The business talk. The politics talk.

There’s not a country he can’t attest for when it comes to the greatness of the world. Not a culture he hasn’t been exposed to in order to appease his highly diverse crowd. The way he talks is captivating and you find yourself staring with the same awe as those who are just now experiencing his pull.

When you excuse yourself for the night so you can put Soori to bed you can’t shake off that feeling. The awe.

He not only amazes you but inspires you. And you know his heart is fully invested in what he does because what the fuck do you care about hotels, and politics and stocks?

No – what inspires you is his passion. The drive and giddiness that you could make out in his voice when he was on his fiftieth thank you of the night. Showered with praises but ever so humble.

Ever so human.

And that’s exactly what you’re hit with next.

Because stars burn, too.

You’re about to make your way to the kitchen, throat dry in need of water. It’s just a little past midnight and you’d been enjoying the comfort of the hotel bed and a good Murakami story.

Your foot’s halfway out the door when the sound of the card reader beeping freezes you in your spot.

You can make out footsteps and heels clinking against the shiny floors. And although you can’t see the scene that unfolds next, you can hear it.

“Ggukie, have some water,” a gentle voice you recognize as Kenny’s fills the room.

“I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not.” Hobi returns.

“Fuck, I just- I hate it. I hate how she’s still the topic of conversation. ‘How’s Irie,’” he mimics in a whiny voice.

Kenny sighs. “They’ve no idea, Gguk. Nobody does, she just- fuck. Disappeared. I get asked about her every day. During every shoot, every dinner party.”

Jungkook’s words are slurred when he says, “and when Soori starts asking questions. Then what?”

“You’ll tell her the truth.” Hobi answers.

Jungkook scoffs at his response. “I can’t do that. I can’t tell her, ‘Oh yeah mommy left because she didn’t- she couldn’t… love you…’”

Dense silence fills the room and your heart sinks at his words.

Hobi exhales loudly, sounding slightly defeated.

“You’ll love her enough for the both of you. You already do.”

~

It’d been a week since you’d come back from the trip.

A week since you’d been let in on a small percentage of what you’d walked right into when you started working for Jungkook.

You still don’t know the details but so far, the story doesn’t sound very promising.

You sit at the park with Lucy, fidgeting with the hem of your dress. Your thoughts must be loud as hell because Lucy sighs in desperation, making you look up at her.

“Don’t do the thing,” she says.

“What thing?”

“The thing where your heart takes on somebody else’s pain entirely.”

“You do the thing, too.” You defend.

“And that’s exactly why I’m telling you not to do the thing.” She retorts.

“What if I already did the thing?”

Lucy stares at you for a moment before she shakes her head slowly.

“You’re in… deep shit, to put it lightly.”

“And that’s code word for…?”

“Love.”

You huff at this, “I’m not in love with him. What do you mean?”

“I know that you know better than to think you’re not walking a dangerously close line to the word you spew at with such dismissal.”

“I just… feel for him. And for Soori. I feel for her. She doesn’t deserve that.”

“Oh, don’t worry. I was referring to her, too.”

~

You tap the end of your pen repeatedly on the blank page of your journal. Tap, tap, tap. You check the time – 4:15 pm. Soori had gone down for her nap only fifteen minutes ago, a little later than usual because she’d been fussy and wanted to be held.

This morning when Jungkook had walked inside the kitchen you noticed how it wasn’t accompanied by her cheerful babble. Instead, her eyes were glassy and she held onto her father for dear life, not even lightning up at the prospect of pancakes.

She’d been in obvious discomfort and was running a little bit of a temperature. Jungkook had called the doctor and he reassured him it was nothing to worry about right away. He was still hesitant about leaving her, especially considering how avidly her tears flowed during doorway goodbyes. But he had meetings back-to-back about the progression of his new hotel that required his presence. So, he’d left, eyes as glassy as hers and with a promise from you to give him hourly updates and call immediately if anything even slightly worsened.

When you’d put Soori down after she’d finally fallen asleep nothing seemed to be any different from this morning. If anything, you were glad she’d finally gone down – hoping she could sleep off whatever bug she’d caught. But when you kissed her forehead before putting her down on her crib your lips had felt the warmth on her delicate skin. You thought it was her usual body heat or maybe the fact she’d snuggled up against your chest as you rocked her back and forth. But now it plagues your thoughts, nervous at the idea that it could be something worse.

You set your pen down, promptly closing your journal before tossing it to the side as you stand up from the couch and begin to make your way up the stairs all the way to her nursery. Your hands are a bit shaky – she’s never gotten sick before from what Jungkook has told you, let alone under your care.

You open the door to her nursery, quietly making your way over to the foot of her crib. She’s sound asleep and you can see the rise and fall of her little chest. You sigh a breath of relief.

Your hand comes down to her face, placing the back of your fingers on her forehead gently. She’s scolding hot under your touch, so much so you jerk your hand back instinctively.

“Fuck.” You murmur under your breath, hands quickly coming to unlock your phone before you’re scrolling down frantically, searching for Jungkook’s number.

Two rings.

“Hello?” He sounds frantic, too.

“Jungkook. You have to come home. Now.”

“What’s wrong? What happened, ___?”

“Soori’s burning, I- I think she has a fever. I- I don’t know but, I think it’s bad, I-” You’re stuttering, voice shaking.

“___, stop. Stop.” He says and you can hear movement in the background, footsteps accompanied by faraway voices. “Can you drive?”

“Huh?”

“I need you to check the address that I’m sending you right now. It’s the hospital. Soori’s head paediatrician will be waiting for you there. Can you drive?”

“Uh- yes. Yes, I can drive.”

“I’ll be there in twenty.”

Your next steps are precise and snappy, yet you feel like the world has fallen into slow motion around you. You grab Soori, holding her in your arms as she begins to wake up, fidgeting in your hold as whines start escaping her little mouth. Her diaper bag is as packed as it will be considering you’re just trying to get the two of you out the door as soon as possible. Still, you do a quick run over of its contents before you decide nothing too important is missing. Extra pacifier, diapers, a change of clothes, wipes – good enough.

You rush down the stairs – Soori’s cries are just getting louder, but you don’t lose focus as you grab your own bag and retrieve the keys from the keyholder on the wall of the doorway. You look down at them, an MB insignia carved onto it tells you as much as you have to know before you’re out the door, making your way to the white car.

You strap Soori into the pink car seat at the back, double checking she’s safely trapped in before you walk back to the driver’s seat. You grab your phone, clicking on the address Jungkook has sent you so that Google Maps can pan out the route. He’s sent the name of the doctor along with a, ‘___, drive safe.’

Your hands grip the steering wheel as you try to ground yourself.

Keys. Ignition. Why are there so many fucking buttons?

You take a deep inhale, focusing.

Push to start.

~

Jungkook can’t quite make out time and space. Everything feels like a blur as he navigates through the city traffic – cursing every single driver that takes up the lanes on his way to the hospital.

He parks in a space that’s probably too narrow for his car but he can’t give an ounce of a fuck right now, exiting the vehicle and sprinting all the way to the entrance.

The sterile white of the walls nearly resemble heaven to him as the sliding doors come to an open and an air of relief settles through him.

He wills another sprint all the way to the reception, breathily letting out a, “Soori. Jeon Soori. I’m her father – she just checked in.”

The lady in front of the computer just stares at him for a second too long for Jungkook’s taste and before he can rain hellfire on her a nurse walks over to him, a gentle smile on her face before she says, “here, follow me.”

“How is she?”

“I checked her in. She was running a pretty high fever so we hooked her to an IV and started her on some Motrin. We suspect she might have an infection, so we’re running tests to cancel out anything serious.”

Jungkook’s heart sinks at her words – the image of Soori being poked around with needles filling him with the same unease she must’ve felt. He thinks about how he wasn’t there to hold her through it – tears begin to pool at the corner of his eyes.

The nurse opens the door and lets him in first.

You’re the first thing he sees – your back to him as you stand in front of the window, Soori’s body is lax in your arms as you sway her from side to side. Her little face rests in the crook between your neck and shoulder and he can see her sniffle back some leftover tears. Your nails caress lightly at her scalp.

You’re singing to her.

You see I’ve forgotten if they’re… green or they’re Blue.

Anyways the thing is

What I really mean

Yours are the sweetest eyes… I’ve ever seen…

Jungkook walks inside the room, the sound of his footsteps startling Soori. You come to a halt, turning around – a loud sigh leaving your mouth at the sight of him.

“Hey, baby… hey Soori girl,” he walks over to you, hands reaching for Soori who falls into them almost immediately. The tiny cries that leave her lips sound more relieved than anything and they break Jungkook’s heart all over again. “I’m so sorry, baby. I’m so sorry for leaving. I’m here. Daddy’s here, okay? You’re alright. I love you so much.”

His voice soothes her and he doesn’t stop showering her with his sweet reassurance until she’s calmed down again – her body relaxing against his chest as she drifts sleepily. It reminds Jungkook of when she was a newborn and another set of tears threaten to release at the mere thought. He lets them – bringing his cheek to hers and letting himself just hold her.

He’s so scared. He’s so scared as he feels the heat her body gives out. Scared seeing the needle that sticks out from her small hand. Scared as he sits down and waits for the doctor, swaying her back and forth even though she’s fallen asleep in his arms already.

Your voice brings him back.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. You did everything right,” he meets your eyes, voice barely a whisper, “thank you. For getting her here safe. And being with her.”

“Of course.”

Both your eyes snap towards the door as the doctor knocks twice before coming in.

“Jungkookie,” he says, an endearment lacing his voice that has you frowning in confusion.

“Mr. Park. Is she okay?”

“She will be, son. You have nothing to worry about. I’m afraid she caught an ear infection. It must’ve happened at the beach – little ones are more susceptible to it. But we’ll start her on antibiotics right away. She’ll bounce right back, you’ll see.”

Jungkook lets out a breath he’d been holding since he parted ways with his daughter this morning – a sigh of relief easing the tension in his entire body.

“Thank you. Thank you so much.” He says.

“You’re a good dad, Jungkook-ah. She’s a happy, healthy kid.”

Jungkook only nods, face falling at the unshakable guilt he feels for not being there for Soori when she needed him the most.

“And you,” he says, meeting your eyes, “you did a good job getting her here fast. People tend to oversee fevers in little ones, thinking their bodies react the same way as ours. I’m glad she got here on time.”

You nod, his words making you feel more uneasy than comfortable at the thought of anything happening to Soori had you not checked up on her when you did.

“When can I take her home,” Jungkook asks.

“We’ll have her hooked on the IV for a little bit longer. I’ll write you the prescription for the antibiotics and we can check her out. She’ll be a little loopy for the rest of today – just make sure she rests well and eats good.”

“Will do, sir. Thank you again. I- I appreciate it.”

“Call me if anything, you know where to reach me.” Jungkook nods. The doctor’s halfway out the door when he turns back around, “oh, and congratulations on the opening of the new hotel. Jiminie told me is by far your best work. We’re proud of you, Jungkook.”

Ah… makes sense now.

“Come see it for yourself one day? On me.”

Mr. Park gives him a genuine smile, nodding in affirmation before he’s out the door.

~

Soori is fast asleep in Jungkook’s arms as the three of you walk past the doorway, entering his home. Sighs of relief falling past both of your lips. The synchronised action makes you turn to one another, sharing a small smile as you realize.

“I’m gonna go put her down,” he says and you nod, walking closer to him and placing a soft kiss on one of her plump cheeks.

As Jungkook makes his way up the stairs you walk to the living room – it looks a little bit of a mess. There’s an array of toys and books you’d retrieved from her playroom in an attempt to keep her happy through her discomfort at being so sick throughout the day. You begin tidying up, putting things back into their respective baskets and stacking up her favourite books to place back into the shelves.

It’s twenty past seven and Lucy has been calling you repeatedly, worried over the fact you haven’t made it back yet. You shoot her a text, letting her know you’re safe and that you will fill her in as soon as you’re home.

The day has felt both long and not long enough considering everything that happened. And even though Soori is safe and free of any harm, the nervousness that took over you when her wellbeing was in jeopardy still lingers. Her loud cries when the needle went past her little fist still echo in your head, tearing at your heart once again. That moment had you realizing just how little she is. How helpless.

Jungkook’s face when he held her in his arms, both their eyes covered in tears, also haunts you. The pain in his face – the guilt and disappointment towards himself. His voice telling her how sorry he was more devastating than you can possibly put into words and you want nothing more than to never have to see that pained expression take over his features again.

On neither of them.

After a while, Jungkook makes his way down the stairs – making up your shadow from a distance as he sees you grab one of Soori’s baskets from the floor. The room is only lit by a floor lamp on the far end corner of the living room.

“Leave it. I’ll clean it tomorrow. You’ve done enough.”

You turn to him; his voice is soft – exhaustion evident in it.

“It’s okay, I can just-”

“Please, ___...” he pleads.

“Okay…”

He makes his way to the sofa, sitting down on the edge as his elbows come to rest on his legs, face falling into his hands. You can hear his heavy inhales – his breathing still shaky.

“Thank you. I-” but Jungkook can’t find the words. He can’t find the words to explain how much it means to him that his daughter was in the arms of someone she trusts today. Someone that held her and swayed her in the way that only a few people know relaxes her. In the arms of someone that sang to her to calm her nerves.

“Thank you for trusting me,” is all you say and he looks up at you, slightly bewildered at your words.

Your eyes hold a kindness in them that confuses Jungkook for a second before his heart falls into the fragility that the day has put him in. He looks at you – at your empathy, and he breaks. Tears pool in the corner of his eyes and his lips quiver, face falling onto his hands again.

You take a step closer, standing before him. You’re caught between not knowing what to do and wanting to do anything it takes to ease his pain. To let him know that it’s okay. That everything will be okay. That the worst has passed – today and weeks back, when this cloud of sorrow settled onto him. When his heart broke and convinced him it’d never mend again.

But it scares you. It scares you to not know if his vulnerability is a side effect of the day or him actually letting you in. Still, your hand reaches out slowly, shaky fingers resting on top of his head before they bend, caressing his scalp softly. It feels impersonal and not enough but you hope the touch speaks its nature.

He stills for a second, shoulders tensing as he makes up your gentle touch. But it feels so good and comforting he pushes all thoughts aside and keens at it, letting himself bask in it.

“Gguk,” his eyes snap open, looking up at you, surprised at your use of the pet name. You ignore it, keeping a soft demeanour as you say, “she’s going to be okay. And you’re a good dad.”

He sniffles back tears, nodding lightly at your words. “It’s just… I’m the only thing she has in this world. It’s- it’s me. Only me-” his voice fills itself with exasperation, words stuttering as he grows anxious once again.

His words yank at your heart and your hands come to a stop; fingers still tangled in his hair.

“Hey, look at me. Please, look at me.” His gaze finds yours and you cock your head to the side to take him in better. Before you can second guess your actions, your hand falls on his cheek, cupping it gently. “I don’t know much about parenting… and I can’t even begin to understand your fears. I’m just an spectator but, Jungkook, all of your goodness is imprinted in her. So, if you’re all she has then I’d say she’s so very lucky.”

He stares up at you, processing your words. He can feel his heartbeat thumping in his eardrums and, at a loss of speech, he simply grabs your hand that rests gently on his cheek, intwining his fingers with yours. He holds it like fine china, its softness resembling it. You never once break eye contact – not when he blinks slowly at you. Not when he leans backwards, pulling you closer to him until your hands come to rest at his shoulders and both your knees hit the velvety fabric of the sofa, coming to rest at either side of him. Your dress hikes up your thighs, but you don’t seem to care.

Your mind goes blank and the only thing you see is him. The only thing you can see is him as you sit down on the firm muscles of his thighs. His hands hold at your wrists – eyes still locked on yours.

“I-” he begins.

“Can I- let me hold you,” you ask and he can’t deny you.

He can’t deny you when your eyes hold everything he needs to alleviate his pain in them.

So, he nods softly and you fall into him. Chest flushed to his, arms around his neck, your fingers finding the tangles of his hair once again. His arms falter for a second but eventually, he wraps them around your waist. It’s ever so gently, almost like he’s scared. But you brave enough courage for the both of you as you nuzzle your head in his hair, lips hovering over his ear.

He shifts slightly under you, allowing your bodies to melt into one another’s even more – your hips angled perfectly against his and his breathing fans directly at your collarbone, sending a shiver down your spine that has you rolling your hips against his involuntarily. It’s miniscule but you feel him. You feel him and the whimper that leaves your mouth falls right into his ear – a breathy little noise that has his whole body breaking out in goosebumps.

Jungkook knows if he lets himself fall any further, he’ll cross a line that he won’t be able to come back from. So, he wills all the strength in the world he can gather for himself and holds your waist, pushing you away slowly.

“Thank you,” he musters. And he hopes you’re able to read all the undertones messages the sentence holds.

You nod at him – that compassion never leaving your eyes and he has to fight with all of his morals to not pull you into him again and hold you.

But before his hands can betray him, you push yourself from his lap, coming to stand in front of him once again.

He can barely make out your smile in the darkness of the vast room, but he knows it’s there.

You take one last glance at him, hoping rationality will settle into you. Hoping your senses will snap back into place. But it doesn’t happen. Or maybe it does, they just follow a whole new set of beliefs.

That is it, you think.

That’s what the world feels like.

~

“Hold up,” Yoongi pinches the bridge of his nose, setting his beer down on top of the coffee table. “You fucked your nanny?”

“No. She just… straddled my lap,” Jungkook says this as if it was the most casual thing in the world.

They’d been in the middle of mindlessly watching some game on the tv – the rest of his friends scattered around Jungkook’s backyard as they enjoyed the leisure of a summery Sunday BBQ.

Taehyung leans forward, “so you… dry humped your nanny.”

“No. It wasn’t sexual. She just-" held me, “hugged me. It’d been one hell of a day- for the both of us.”

“Did you kiss?” Yoongi asks.

“No.”

“Did you want to?” Taehyung adds.

Jungkook looks down at his fingers, fidgeting with them for a second. He doesn’t meet their eyes. “No.”

“Jungkook-ah,” Yoongi tries to level with him.

“I am an adult. A father. I think I’m able to reason without my dick getting in the way.” He huffs.

“So, you did want to,” Taehyung says, ignoring the way his friends’ eyes narrow at him

“I-,” yes. “No.”

“Then what do you have to reason with?” Yoongi says, making Taehyung snort at his quick comeback.

“She’s the nanny,” Jungkook tries to sound dismissive, a defence mechanism so he doesn’t slip further into the whirlwind of feelings threatening to burst in his chest anytime now.

“Don’t be an asshole. She’s not just the nanny. She’s nice. And smart. And friendly. Also, your kid loves her.” Taehyung remarks, narrowing his eyes at him.

Yoongi nods. “Plus – she’s attractive. No, more like, you’re attracted to her. So, tone it down.”

Jungkook sneers and Taehyung rolls his eyes at his immaturity.

“You’re so used to having to put up a fight just to get half of the love you give out. If you don’t start giving into the goodness of people, Jungkookie… you’re gonna run out of love to give.” Taehyung tells him.

“Or worse – you’re just gonna stop giving it.”

~

Now, regardless of what his titles and demeanour might exude, Jeon Jungkook does not get off on ego trips. You know, the ones that require an exuberant amount of control on everything and everyone – including oneself.

He’s successful in his work because he’s confident. Control is not something he has to go an extra mile for – it’s just how he’s wired. It’s an almost automatic mental response when faced with adversities and the need to problem solve. But he also knows that when this is applied to matters of the heart, it can be a bit of a recipe for disaster.

Truth is, Jungkook is an easy-going person. He doesn’t focus too much on the vagueness of his thoughts. Hell, at times he doesn’t even focus on the profound ones. He likes to play a lot of his game by instinct, confident he has enough knowledge to execute accordingly.

And that’s the thing. When you know better, you do better.

But why the hell can’t he take his own advice right now?

Because Jungkook knows better. He knows better than to let his thoughts get anywhere near his feelings, where, consequently, he’d find himself unable to act accordingly. Because Jungkook can have a lot of game in his field of expertise but he’s no wiser than the common folk when it comes to taming feelings. He knows this, too.

He gets himself ready for bed with a heavy head, loud with all the thinking he seems to be doing. It doesn’t have a means to an end, his train of thought. He hasn’t been able to draw one single conclusion and that is usually his queue to let go, move on. But he can’t.

And perhaps the thing that scares him the most about his train of thought is how uneasy it doesn’t make him. How when he drifts, really drifts, his incessant thinking land him in waves of something so close to comfort, ease. How he can feel the fogginess of uncertainty quickly take shape, forming a cloud of peace that tempts him to stay basked in its bliss.

He stares in the mirror and confronts the reflection. Urging it to compose itself.

And perhaps the reason why he can’t accept said cloud of comfort is because the skies haven’t quite cleared for Jungkook. The storm hasn’t quite passed, leaving the air heavy, stuffy and grey at times.

Also, because said comfort is giving him the hots for his nanny.

Enough.

He shakes his head, as if to rid himself of his thoughts, and walks out of the bathroom.

He’s tired and his bed has never looked more inviting as he forms a mountain of pillows against the headboard. The prospect of night-time TV has him way too excited and he winces at the thought. But as much as it shocks him how much of the dad stereotype he’s fallen into, it doesn’t stop him from indulging in it.

He throws himself on top of pillow mountain and grabs his iPad, browsing through the endless options of channels before realizing he should just go full out today. The Cooking Channel. His lips form a smile when the big screen of his tv zooms in on a perfectly shaped round cake that’s being decorated by colourful layers of fondant. The delicate hands mold and smooth out the sugary coat and Jungkook is so focused on it he barely blinks.

Tracy from The Cooking Channel finishes covering the whole cake by smoothing out the edges and cutting out the excess – the shot pans out to a seamlessly covered cake.

“Oof,” Jungkook says to himself, “that’s better than sex.”

His brain lets his innocent little comment slide for approximately three minutes before it decides to fixate on it.

Sex.

Jungkook hates the effect that word has on him – as if he was a hormonal teenager getting riled up in the middle of sex ed by the mere mention of the act, threatening in the least conventional of settings to be sporting a hardon.

The Cooking Channel isn’t conventional either.

But Jungkook knows that’s not where his head is going.

He brushes it off, lowering the volume before he turns to his side, nuzzling himself into the softness of his pillows, ready to be lulled to sleep by pastry talk.

He tosses and turns and forces his eyes to stay shut so as to trick his brain into thinking the drowsy feeling is the early stages of falling into a deep slumber, and most certainly not all of his blood falling to his dick.

He groans in utter desperation, sliding down from the cushiony pillows until he’s laying flat on his back, eyes glued to the ceiling. He throws one arm over his face and the other makes a slow descend down the soft fabric of his hoodie, past the thick duvet, until it reaches its destination. He palms himself over his sweatpants, hard. He doesn’t quite know with what purpose but it does him no favours to release the tension that only seems to be growing at a quicker pace.

He feels himself, half hard, and with half a mind, his hand comes past the elastic of his sweats and the barrier of his Calvin’s until it wraps fully around his cock. He hisses at the contact, a whine leaving his lips in both relief and want. He strokes once, starting to feel himself in fullness – thick around his fingers as he tightens his grip. His index finger travels upwards, and with his free hand he brings the suffocating layers down his legs, stopping at his thighs. Once freed his eyes fixate on how his thumb toys with his slit, a bead of precum building up at the tip at the overstimulation. He hasn’t felt physical pleasure from himself, or anyone, in months. Every touch feels like it’s wired with electricity.

The flat of his palm grazes along his tip, collecting the sticky lubrication before it wraps around it. But he’s impossibly hard and it’s not enough and before he can register the lewdness of his actions his hand comes up, cock jumping at the loss of friction. He collects the build-up saliva in his mouth and spits on his hand, kicking at the duvet until he’s free from the thighs up, hard cock resting against his stomach.

He closes his fist around his member, head pressing down against the mattress at the upstroke. He takes his time with his ministrations, teasing himself, squeezing at the base when he feels the pressure build up on his lower stomach. Fuck, it feels so good. It feels so good to feel again – something so intense other than pain. It makes Jungkook head spin as he brings his other hand down and tugs on his balls – gentle but firm, a throaty moan escaping his lips at the feeling, the heaviness of his impending release.

“Agh- fuck,” his chest rises and falls at the rhythm of his pants, breath caught in his throat as his touch takes his mind places he’d dare not go before.

He free-falls into the weakness of his thoughts. He free-falls right into his desire. A desire that has him seeing you. He sees you just the way he wants you right now as he tightens his hand around his cock, pace picking up, wrist twisting at the head and then slowing. Again, and again.

And it’s you. He sees you and he doesn’t try to fight it. He thinks about the way you smell – the scent so gentle yet comforting when his head nuzzled into the crook of your neck. He thinks of the way you pulled him closer, holding him. He thinks of the butterflies you sent right to his belly when your hips lightly rutted against his – the faint whimper that left your lips at the feel.

He thinks about holding you in place, pushing you down on him until far prettier sounds leave your pretty lips. Fuck, your lips. Right next to his ear, close to his cheek. On his lips. Wrapped around his cock. He can feel it pulsing against the curve of his palm. He’s leaking – a sticky mess forming at his lower belly and the sight alone is so arousing it threatens to have him blowing his load right then and there.

But he edges himself, squeezing at his base once again. He wants to think about making a mess out of you for a bit longer. He wants to enjoy the limited function of his brain that can’t form sense into him – only lust. For your body, the sound of your voice, your mind. The way you look at the world, reminding him so much of simpler times.

He thinks about the curves of your body, the round of your tits. The way your chest felt pressed against his – your body warmth.

He wants you so bad. The realization hits him like a ton of bricks and his desire grows feral in his chest, down his hard stomach that caves in as his pumps become more languid with every stroke.

He thinks about what it would feel like to hold you the way he did the other night – no layers between your bodies this time. He’d take you slow and swallow every moan that fell from your lips into his, his big hands at the small of your waist setting a rhythm that’d double as torturous but he’d take it. He’d take it if it meant to be able to feel all of you – every ridge, every edge of your body. All of you wrapped around him.

That last visual sends him over the edge. He pulls his sweatshirt up, hands fisting around the fabric as he squeezes at the angry crown of his swollen cock, releasing all over his stomach – a string of grunts and curses leaving his lips before his teeth press onto his bottom one, locking in his pleasure.

His movements come to a halt as he winces in overstimulation, his cock twitching as his hold weakens, his entire body relaxing against the soft of the mattress again.

“Fuck…,”

His post-orgasmic bliss settles into him and he runs a hand through his dark locks, deep breaths steading the rise and fall of his chest as he gives into the heavy feel of his eyelids, slow blinks bringing him down from his previous agitation. He came so fucking hard his knees feel like jelly. A lazy smile tugs at his lips at the realization.

But said bliss is short-lived, like most good things in life, as another realization sets upon him. The same one responsible for his current state.

“Fuck.”

~

am i ~sweating? yes i am. i said GGUKIE SELF LOVE! ggukie self care 😌. as he should. king! anyways, i really hope you enjoyed this one and that you look forward to the next one because, like, don’t make me say it. sexy juices. anyways. let me know what you thought! i love talking to y’all!! i’m sending a milli forehead kisses your way as always! xxxx <3

~

★taglist★

@roro-in-utopia @yiyi4657 @littlrmills14-blog @namjooningelsewhere @drownforryou @iwanttohitmyself @finelinememories @yukiehyukie @shatzkrinslinzki @bts-fic-recs-mess @kokoandkookie @subtlepjiminie @girl-meetsevil @kookiesbreaky @di0rgguk @bloopkook @babyrosieareroses

Wait a minute JEON JUNGKOOK. I- ajjasgsjakshsjsksksj

forget me not | eoalh drabble

written for the eoalh couple. jeongguk thinks he’s bad at love.

pairing: fuckboy!jk x f reader

word count: 1.8k

warnings: none except jk babie not being very confident :/

masterlist

© evolution of a lover’s heart is copyright jeonstudios 2021. this fic can not be modified, re-posted, or translated without my permission.

author’s note: so i really liked this scene but as i’m progressing with the last part of eoalh, i’m fearing it won’t fit in and if i do end up putting it in there, i’ll probably have to change it, but as voted for in the poll on my twitter, i’m posting it as a separate drabble. however, until i’m posting the full chapter, don’t take this as canon! also this isn’t super edited, just read through once or twice…

He looks over at your sleeping face where you’re cuddled up in the passenger seat, his jacket draped over you like a blanket. 

You’re so pretty like this, you always are, but sometimes he feels bad if he looks at you for too long. Deep down, he knows he’s being irrational, that he’s become too sensitive and too much of an overthinker, but it’s so hard to stop. One thought leads to the next, and he spirals.

He wants to trust you, wants to lean back on the words you tell him, and the things he knows deep down. He wants to trust himself, maybe not today, but someday. Because he has it in him, somewhere. Right? And he wants to get better.

As quietly as he can, he closes the door to the car, and when he peers through the window, still seeing your undisturbed, sleeping face, he straightens up and breathes in the fresh air. 

Keep reading

Summer Solstice (M)

- pairing: jungkook x reader (f) ft. a tiny bit of Tae

- genre: god!jungkook / mythology au + smut

- word count: 6k

- summary: Down on your luck and desperate for a successful harvest, you pray to the gods. You figure no one in heaven was listening to your prayers when nothing happens immediately. But one fateful night, your prayers are answered. Are you willing to pay the price? The sacrifice might not be what you were expecting….

- warnings: explicit language (!!), mentions of suicide (brief!), smut: body worship themes, oral (m/f receiving), 69ing, mouth fucking, choking, dirty talk, name calling, hair pulling, over stimulation, squirting, unprotected sex (WRAP IT BEFORE U TAP IT), creampie, BIG DICK!JK, purity corruption kink( like if u squint), degradation, rude/arrogant jungkook …think that’s it…

- disclaimer: I have legit never written for tumblr before…. kinda nervous 😳👉👈. This is my first writing so please please please be courteous and kind! i’m sensitive 🥺. ALSO i’m not a farmer so sorry if i have legit no clue how agriculture works lmao. But sum about these concept photos just had me feeling sum typa way you know ?? Also, i’m going to try to be more active on this account and start a masterlist! Please make sure to send me HELPFUL criticism or just pop in to say hi! I hope you enjoy reading this as much as i did writing it. Thanks 🥰

- Jay ~ 5/5/2020

———————————————————-

To say time had NOT been kind to you would be a massive understatement.

Not only had your village been facing an impending famine for the past several months, but now your own family’s crops had begun to wither under the brutal sun. You thought things couldn’t get worse.

Oh, how wrong you were.

Keep reading

summary: boyfriend by day, superhero by night. jeon jungkook is seoul’s friendly neighborhood spiderman, however things are always easier said than done. in order to look after the city and its people, jungkook must sacrifice time and love to protect the people closest to him. genre: angst, spiderkook au. warnings: literally just my bad writing, there’s not even any swearing in this one. a/n: the photo used is not mine, i just used a mockup.

You felt like you’d just been slapped. Your boyfriend of three years and best friend for even longer had just said he wouldn’t be attending your birthday party.

“What do you mean, ‘you can’t go’?” You felt the tears picking at your eyes, this wasn’t the first time Jungkook had ditched you for his internship. “It’s - we’re supposed to greet people together!”

“Look, I’m sorry, I promise I’ll make it up to you. But Mr. Stark is waiting.” Jungkook looked over to the door of your house before nervously brushing back his hair, he hoped you couldn’t tell he was lying, neither Tony Stark or Happy Hogan had called him. But the city and its victims had, and Seoul’s crime rate seemed to be going up every night.

Jungkook wished he could tell you but he was stuck between a rock and a hard place - the hard place being safety, and love. If you didn’t know who he was you would probably hate him forever but you would have an alibi and be safe. If you knew who he was you would probably forgive him but be a constant target.

“Fine,” you bit your cheek, “whatever.” You scoffed before turning away, hugging yourself. “Y/N -” Jungkook whispered. You rolled your eyes. He sighed, “I love you.”

It was your eighteenth birthday and it was supposed to be the biggest night of your life but you figured that it was pointless if the most important person in your life wasn’t even there to celebrate.

You couldn’t believe it. On his eighteenth birthday, you cancelled work and threw a surprise party for him. And he wasn’t even here to celebrate yours!

There was no way that photocopying things and getting coffee was more important than celebrating your birthday.

Maybe he’d met someone more interesting at the internship. That seemed likely, actually. Jungkook was in the school’s academic decathalon and there was a possibility that he would prefer to date someone smart over… you.

That made a lot of sense, seeing as his stupid internship happened literally every night. Or maybe it was because of Spider-Man. You knew that Jungkook knew him, because Jimin said so.

Of course the webslinger was a better than you. Jungkook was probably hanging out with the masked vigilante right now and talking about how annoying you were. You didn’t blame him.

You thought of all the times he’d ditched you for the Stark Internship. And then you were crying, and you couldn’t stop.

As he sat on top of the apartment building, Jungkook loathed himself. This wasn’t even his job. He wasn’t even an actual Avenger yet.

And yet here he was, skipping his girlfriend’s birthday party to look after the rest of the city.

There was barely anything to do. It was cold and empty and miserable. Jungkook sighed, checking the time on his phone.

A pang of guilt shot through him. His lockscreen was the same every year because the photo was the best thing that had ever happened to him.

Three years ago, he and his friends and Y/N had gone to a carnaval together. They’d asked someone to take the photo for them.

Y/N had dumped an ice-cream on his head as the person took the photo. It was incredible. His phone buzzed and he knew what he had to do.

A massive bird flew through your window with a thump and you screamed, you hated birds. The bird got up and cursed loudly and you flicked the light on.

Turned out that the bird wasn’t a bird. The bird was actually Spider-Man. So Jungkook wasn’t hanging out with him and he was actually hanging out with someone else.

You sniffed, “Do you know my boyfriend?” You paced over to the door and back and the masked vigilante watched you like he was studying your every move. He cleared his throat before speaking. “Do you know Jeon Jungkook?”

“Uh, yeah,” he fiddled with his fingers. Funny, Jungkook did that when he was nervous. “He’s a good guy. Uh, solid dude.”

You sniffed again, “What does he do at the Stark Internship?” You looked down, “He never told me.”

Spider-Man cleared his throat again, “uh, I think he writes reports or something. Not sure, sorry.” You sighed. “Does he - does he have a girlfriend at the Stark Internship?”

“What?” You knew that Spider-Man was frowning even under the mask. “Uh,” he made his voice deeper again, “no, he doesn’t. Why would he?”

You sniffed, “He just - he’s always leaving me. Every night. And he says it’s because of the internship but maybe - maybe I’m boring him or - or maybe he doesn’t-” You didn’t want to say it.

“Love you?” Spider-Man spoke almost bitterly. “Trust me,” he was so soft-spoken, just like Jungkook. “He loves you. A lot.” 

You frowned, you weren’t buying this. Did Jungkook get Spider-Man to come and see you? Why couldn’t he have come himself? “Well, then, why isn’t he here?” you crossed your arms, “and why are you here instead?” 

“But he is here,” Spider-Man stepped forwards, advancing. Then he took off his mask, revealing a tear-strewn face. “And he’s really, really sorry for being such a dick.” he spoke in that ridiculous low voice again. “And he wanted to say he loves you, and happy birthday.”

“It’s you,” you were at a loss for words. “How - why - you didn’t - it’s so dangerous!” you were crying again. “So when they robbed the ATM, that was you?” you stared at him. 

He nodded, “yeah.” he sighed, “I’m really, really sorry that I’ve lied to you about it and made you feel like shit. I just. If anything happened to you -” a lump formed in his throat and he brushed back a strand of his hair. “If anything happened to you -” his voice broke. “You have to promise you won’t tell anyone.” he finished, putting a silver necklace around your neck. 

The tiny spider charm glistened in the moonlight as the laughter from the party traveled up the stairs. He kissed you roughly on the lips, “promise,” he whispered. There was nothing to do but nod and say, “I love you.”

BTS MASTERLIST // TXT MASTERLIST 

to build a home | chapter three

pairing: Jungkook x reader. ceo!jk + dilf!jk x nanny!oc

genre: strangers to lovers. angst. loads of plot. eventual smut

word count: 9.2k

warnings: angst. swearing. mentions of alcohol. mentions of abandonment. mentions of death.

author’s note: hi again <3 i am in love w this chapter. time is speeding along everyone – hearts are healing?? babies are growing?? and these two fools?? mutual pining mode on 🤧🤧🤧. i don’t want to give much away but oc and jk had my heart in a frenzy in this one!! i truly hope you enjoy, it’s been so rewarding to read your kind words and feedback so from the bottom of my heart thank u <3!

p.s. softly by Clairo. that's their song.

This is a work of fiction. Please respect the members and their privacy. x

Texts in bold + italic resemble a recollection of past events.

Chapter Three

Blue-jean baby, L.A. lady, seamstress for the band…

You groan. A single eye, the one not smushed by your pillow, opens half-way. It’s 6:15 AM and Elton John’s soft vocals are waking you up to the dreamy beat of Tiny Dancer. Why would you want the dreadful tune of Marimba doing the job if you can have this?

“Five more minutes, Elton.”

Pretty eyes, pirate smile, you’ll marry a music man…

You smile, soothed by what feels like a lullaby. Your body relaxes against the mattress once again and your eyes close – you’re not asleep. Just easing into consciousness.

You drift.

Hold me closer tiny dancer, count the headlights on the highway…

Elton all but screams at you. Well, that has you jumping from the warmth of your bed.

6:18 – time to wake up. You’re not a morning person and neither are you a night owl but, a sudden burst of inspiration found you sat at your desk until way past midnight. By the time you went to bed it took you a good thirty more minutes to fall asleep. Constantly disrupted by the drunk party goers that were making their way back home from wherever the night had taken them. Youth and Tuesday nights, you remember those. You could’ve just closed the window but the chilly breeze coming from it felt like summer. You did it in the name of nostalgia.

So, it is due to your late night writing à la Bukowski that you find yourself running into every piece of furniture you stumble upon, eyes still half closed, incessantly rubbing at them to let them know it was time to adult. You try to wake your brain up, too, but all it does is demand coffee.

And coffee you shall get. The smell hits your nose before anything can hit your eyesight but already, you’re lazily smiling at a blurry vision of Lucy from behind the kitchen counter. Her computer is in front of her and her eyes never leave the screen even as she feels you come in.

“Jeon Jungkook.” She half sing-songs, half affirms.

Are you sleep walking?

“Huh?”

She clears her throat and starts reading, “This year’s most eye-grabbing addition to Forbes 30 Under 30 list belongs to twenty-eight-year-old Jeon Jungkook. The young entrepreneur is the heir of the luxury chain of hotels, The West End.” Now you’re awake. She continues, “The high-end resorts have an ever-growing list of locations taking up the most coveted, bustling destinations all around the globe. Jungkook inherited his family’s legacy at the young age of twenty-four and has often been praised by his sharpness and boldness when it comes to business. His first duty as CEO and Chair of The West End Collection proved him more than capable, as he went on to re-brand its various hotels, location by location. His diligence and cut-throat ideas earned The West End a spike in stocks of up to 200%-”

“You are,” you interrupt her, fingers pressing at your temples for emphasis, “the nosiest person. Ever.”

“Okay so he’s rich. And smart. And in Forbes. But when where you going to tell me he looked like this?” She spins the laptop around in her hold, shoving it in your direction for dramatic effect.

And there he is, in all of his glory. Black suit over a black dress shirt. His hair a bit more tamed than it usually is on his day to day.

“I did tell you!” You protest.

“No, you did not. You said he looked like an angel. This man is a God.” She scoffs.

“Is this for me?” You ask, pointing at the cup of iced coffee sitting pretty on the kitchen counter.

“Well, it’s not for me.” She remarks, eyes still glued to the screen as you take a sip. “I found the baby mama, too.” She blurts out so fast it takes you a second to register it.

“Lucy.”

“What? It wasn’t that hard! She’s a model or something, if we’re going by anything Vogue has to say.”

At this, you give into the snooping. Your eyes divert to the screen and surely there she is. She looks just like what you’d expect at hearing her name alone. Ira Sommersmith. She’s beautiful, and the word alone cuts it short. Long blonde hair, dazzling smile, eyes looking away from the camera in that lost gaze model way. You’d look like a fool if you even attempted it. And you know because you’ve tried.

“Look, here’s them together. At some rich people party. Why is everyone wearing white? That’s a recipe for disaster if I’ve ever seen one.” Lucy says before changing the tabs, a picture of the two of them on the screen.

They look happy. He’s smiling at the camera and she’s smiling at him. It’s dated from two years ago. What happened? You can’t help but wonder.

“Wait a minute. Soori looks nothing like her. I don’t think she’s the baby mama,” you say, imitating the tone of suspense Lucy takes on when in conspiracy theory mode.

“No, no. She might be all daddy but that’s her baby. I read an article about it. Apparently, Ira went all MIA on social media shortly after the baby’s birth. She also went on a modelling hiatus.”

Her words sink into you. You try really hard not to pry, you do. You contain it as much as you can. But your brain can’t stop running in circles, that avid writer’s imagination of yours doing you no favours to inflict any sort of self-control.

“I want to go on a hiatus, too.” Lucy says, earning a loud cackle from you. “Not you, though. Come on, can’t be late for hot, heir, angel God, daddy Jeon Jungkook. Emphasis on the daddy.”

“Lucy!”

~

You’re in the bus on your way to the Jeon abode. Every morning dulls into afternoon in somewhat an identical rhythm. You don’t mind, though. You’ve come to find it comforting.

The bus ride is relaxing – there are not many people heading to the residential part of town this early in the morning, allowing you the commodities of not one but two seats all to yourself. You read, write or listen to music. Out the window, you start to make out the proximity of your destination as the pretty houses start to breeze past your line of vision. Every time the bus halts at a stop you’re able to take them in, full detail. You wonder if you’ll ever make it big enough to live in this side of town, in a pretty house of your own.

Your mind starts to float into that cloud of pink you call daydream. You picture a family. Do you want a big one?You don’t know. Kids are expensive. But, then again, if you can afford a house with more than one bathroom you reckon you could afford a couple of kids.

You picture Soori. As a reference, you tell yourself. She’s a cute baby, why wouldn’t you want a cute baby like her?

“But I don’t want this exact house!” You tell Lucy. A sea of magazines spread out around the two of you.

You’re in your tiny living room, coffee table pushed to the side as you invade the floors with glossy paper cut outs. You’re in vision board making mode, and even though you haven’t quite grasped the idea, it’s a fun Friday night activity. Also, you’re wine-drunk. Cheap wine-drunk.

“It’s for reference, ___.” Lucy says, accentuating every consonant, “it doesn’t have to be exactly what you want, as long as it encompasses the same energy.”

“You’re doing that thing where you throw big words at me when I’m drunk.”

“You’ll be fine as long as you don’t do that thing where you nod and pretend you understood. This is important, okay? We’re manifesting.” She returns.

Manifesting is her new favourite word.

You grab a wrinkled picture of a very shirtless Brad Pitt. The whole look of the image feels vintage. You had grabbed a bunch of old magazines from the library that were due to be thrown out for the longest time now.

“So I won’t get 2003 Brad Pitt but!,” you start, shoving the picture in her face, “I will get a sexy, toned, tall, tanned and successful man that can sport low rise jeans like this?”

“Exactly.”

“Let’s manifest, baby!”

Reference. It’s important.

Sometimes it worries you how when you think about your future you don’t hold an ounce of desperation regarding it. People talk about goals and dreams but they never do it with the softness something promising should hold. It’s always with edge. Fear, uncertainty.

But you think you can amount your bliss to your lack of knowing. Truth is, beyond writing, there’s nothing that passions you enough to pursue. And society has already installed the notion in you that writing careers are in extinction. You’re not above fears. You just mentioned one. You just don’t attach your future to them. You’ll never stop writing, though. That’s your one sure-thing.

Your future doesn’t have to be panned out for you. You can dream by reference.

You’ll never own a touch screen doorbell, though. That’s just presumptuous.

You press on the screen of said reference you are not taking after. It’s 7:15 sharp – you’re a legend for this one, considering how much time Lucy’s snooping took out of your morning routine.

Every morning Mrs. Chae opens the door for you and this one is no different. Her sweet smile matches her sweet voice. Overall, she’s a sweet lady and you can tell Jungkook has a soft spot for her. She’s the one getting the big smiles around here, not you. But let’s not rush into that just yet.

“Good morning, ___.” She greets you with a tender smile.

“Good morning, Mrs. Chae. How are you today?”

“Oh, just wonderful. Come in, come in. Have you eaten?” She always asks you this, even if your answer is always the same.

“Yes, Mrs. Chae. Thank you for asking, though.”

“Young people these days!” she begins, “you don’t give breakfast the importance it deserves. Mr. Jungkook only has that coffee of his. And half of it is ice.” She whispers the last bit, almost as if she was letting you in on a secret.

“I’m sure Mr. Jungkook compensates with lunch, though.” You tell her and she smiles, nodding at this. You both know Mr. Jungkook can eat.

By the time your brief, but almost always comical, morning chat with Mrs. Chae is over, Jungkook is usually making his way inside the kitchen. This morning is no different either.

“Good morning,” he says, a pyjama clad Soori resting at his hip, giraffe plushie in hand that she repetitively smacks into her father’s chest.

“Good morning, Mr. Jungkook.” Mrs. Chae says, placing a tray in the kitchen counter in front of him, a single glass of iced americano.

“Morning,” you say, making your way to him. “Morning, pretty girl.” This is directed at Soori, who jumps excitedly in Jungkook’s hold at your words. She lets out some sweet unintelligible baby babble, “I agree.” You tell her and she giggles, her pacifier falling from her little mouth.

“She had her bottle about two hours ago so she should be ready for breakfast any time now.” Jungkook informs you, passing her to you, hand coming to caress at her little head once she’s in your arms.

“Perfect.” You turn to her, “what’s for brekky today? What about oatmeal? No cinnamon this time, promise.” Jungkook smiles. But it’s not directed at you. It usually never is.

Now, let’s not put him in total bad lighting. He’s civil, polite even. But he never humours you. And you’re funny. I mean, yes. Your track record is babies and toddlers and an easy-hearted Lucy but come on.

Soori laughs though, and it’s all that matters.

He’s almost done with his coffee. That was way too fast. You wish you could tell him but then again you wouldn’t. You still can’t decipher what’s worst – the attitude he was giving you on the day of the interview or the indifference he gives you every day.

You don’t think he necessarily hates you. In fact, you don’t even think he dislikes you. You just think he’s not very happy with the world right now and it reflects on pretty much anything that hits his line of vision.

Everything except Soori, though. She gets all the big smiles and praises and cuddles. So many cuddles.

Jungkook goes to the office most days but there are days when he stays home. He’s usually locked inside his office, immersed in paper work. But he always makes sure he’s out just as Soori starts getting fussy with hunger.

He makes her a bottle and lays her down in a plush pillow that doesn’t quite match the décor of the sofa. But it’s the Soori pillow, so it stays. She drinks her bottle, eyes glued to his as he talks to her. Most of the times you can’t make out what he’s saying but one time you did hear him give her a run-down of a business call he’d just had, his voice never losing the softness he saves for her. His Soori voice.

Sometimes both their eyes begin to get heavy with sleep and he rests his head next to her tummy, nuzzling his nose into it until she giggles and jerks under him.

It’s cute. And it tugs at all of your heartstrings. So much so you have to fight with every pull to not walk in front of him and tell him, ‘Hey Jungkook! You’re such a good dad! You’re doing great. Don’t be sad. Ever again, please!’

But you remember where you stand with him: sole professionality. You keep telling yourself this is fine by you. You still get to play with his cute baby for a living so who’s the real winner here?

You walk with him all the way to the front door so Soori can spend as much time with him as possible. He never asked for this but you started doing it anyway and you know he appreciates it.

“Alright, baby. Be good, okay? I love you. So much. I’ll see you soon.” You know the words by memory now. He litters kisses all over her soft cheeks, tickling her until she hides in the crook of your neck. He pulls away.

“Say bye-bye!” you tell her. She makes grabby hands at him. Bye-bye is a dreaded set of words.

You see him try to fight it but he breaks, grabbing her and hugging her to his chest. More kisses, this time all over her face.

“Okay. Daddy has to go. I love you.” He says and hands her back to you.

Her little mouth forms the most endearing pout, chin wrinkling and you know she’s about to cry. But you’re faster – your baby voice in full mode when you say, “No cry, Soo. Daddy will be back soon.”

Jungkook has turned around by the time the words leave your lips so, naturally, you miss the way his eyebrows come up so high they nearly touch his hairline and his steps falter a bit at your words. At the word.

And so, with that, your work day begins. It’s easy and you’re lucky – you know you are. You spend time with Soori, who happens to be a great companion. She’s easy going and tooth-ache inducing as her big starry eyes, courtesy of her father, are glued to you throughout the day.

You play with her and read her books you bring from the library, she’s a good source of research when it comes to testing out book club options. You already tried sticking to her age range but figured she’s advanced.Well, maybe you’re biased but she does get through the baby books fast, promptly losing interest. So, you read her the big kid books and that’s when she stills – her full attention on you as you read to her, putting on a show as you dramatize every scene.

Nap time usually finds you a bit bummed out that you have to part ways with her as you exit her nursery, lit only by twinkling stars adorning her ceiling, imitating a starry night sky. It’s pretty cool, you sort of wish you had one, too. You wonder if she’ll ever grow out of it. You hope she doesn’t.

You tidy up, read and write during this time – it stretches as plenty and you keep yourself entertained enough until it’s time to do it all over again.

You’re lucky, you think, realizing just how much you look forward to doing it all over again.

~

Jungkook is fond of you. He comes up with this conclusion as he parks his car in his driveway, the ignition coming to a stop as he unbuckles his seatbelt.

Jungkook is fond of you and he knows you don’t know that. He also knows it’s completely his fault. Hell, he even doubts his own friends still know he’s fond of them, if he’s being honest.

The thing about pain is that it doesn’t put other people’s happiness on hold. It doesn’t magically put a halt to the collective joy of the world just so one person can experience it in peace. A very far-fetched concept of peace, anyways.

He’s in pain but the world around him is sort of hitting him with an abrupt, ‘and what about it?’

It’s been four weeks since Ira left and the world has stopped suffering with him. His friends have gone back to their normal lives, his family stopped asking questions and Mrs. Chae stopped walking on eggshells around him. Even Soori has resumed her normal scheduled programming. She sleeps through the night, eats like she never made Jungkook cry in the bathroom more times than he’s willing to admit, and keeps growing up. Doing new things, leaving him in awe as she wonders about the world, taking it in.

She’s a happy baby and he knows it’s because she has a happy you by her side. So, he lets her bask in your aura, mirror your essence and that is enough for him. That is all that truly matters to him – her happiness.

As for him, your aura inflicts more heartbreak than it does healing. He doesn’t resent you for it or anything but he doesn’t give you the opening to shine your light into him either. He doesn’t know if its guilt or suffering – maybe it’s both. All he knows is that there is something about you that makes him feel profoundly unpreparedto start living again.

So that’s why he remains impassive as you hand Soori back to him, ruffling her silky hair before giving her a kiss that has her keening at your touch.

“Bye, Jungkook.” You tell him, a smile adorning your face as always. Soori’s hold on your finger pulls you into them.

You stumble forwards and he takes a step backwards.

“Goodbye, ___.”

~

If it weren’t for his friends, Jungkook’s weekends would be spent stuck at home, sulking in between trying to keep Soori entertained with screen time she should not be consuming and his lame train of thought he sometimes shares with her. He runs her through his list of chores, movies he wants to watch, endless options of what they could have for lunch. You name it, she listens.

And that was all good at first – his friends had given him the space to mourn his loss, cry his tears and settle into his new dynamic as a family of two. But they wouldn’t be any good of friends if they’d let it drag on the moment they found him getting a little too comfortable with said sulking.

So now Jungkook tags along family outings that require him and Soori leave the house and put on outfits that are more weekend-casual, as opposed to the suits and pyjamas they sport throughout the week.

It’s easy to dress himself but Soori, on the other hand, is a feat that challenges his three-coloured-palette fashion senses. Her wardrobe is so colourful, filled with pastels and different prints. It suits her, it does. But Jungkook has no idea how to make all her clothes harmonize into one simple outfit. It used to be Ira’s job – one of the few ones she actually enjoyed.

He takes one last look at her before he unbuckles her seat belt, picking her up from her car seat before they start walking towards Mai and Taehyung. The streets are busy today – a sunny Saturday that has the city full of people, restaurant tables officially propped outside to welcome in the warmer weather.

Today’s attempt at matching has Mai throwing her head back in laughter as she takes in a very happy and oblivious Soori in. A pair of baby pink denim pants, green Kermit the Frog shirt Jungkook had gotten for her during a trip to New York and a yellow sweater. But the cherry on top of the cake was the shrunk down version of Jungkook’s favorite Balenciaga sneakers adorning her tiny feet.

“What?” Jungkook says, even though he knows exactly why she’s laughing.

Mai takes Soori from him, smacking her lips into her cheek in a loud kiss. “You’re lucky you’re so cute, Soori girl.” She beams at Mai’s affection, “is daddy on a steady road down colour blindness?” She still has her baby voice on. Soori laughs, a full pair of bottom teeth in full display.

Jungkook giggles at the sight but Mai doesn’t let him have it.

“Kermit the Frog? Really?” she says, voice lowering at him.

“She can rock it.”

“I agree,” Taehyung steps in, taking Soori from Mai’s arms. He throws her in the air, hands catching her swiftly at her descend. Loud baby giggles fall past her lips.

“That’s because you are actually colour blind.” Mai says.

“Baby, I’m not? I literally dress better than you.” He retorts, words not matching his sweet tone as his lips form a signature pout.

Before Mai can protest Jungkook steps in, “that’s enough, children. Let’s go get Dae, I’m starving.”

“Library’s around the corner, but it’s still five minutes ‘til pick up. He doesn’t like it when I’m early,” Mai returns.

“Yeah, because it’s not his super cool uncle picking him up.”

“Good point.” She gives in – it’s good to hear his witty remarks again, even if they run scarce.

As they turn the corner the library comes into view. They step inside and a peaceful silence fills the air. Jungkook finds it comforting. He thinks about how he hasn’t stepped foot inside a library since his college years. That can’t be good. Soori has been extra keen during bed time stories. She’d usually fidget a lot in his grasp as he swayed her back and forth in her rocking chair – it almost felt like a bonding moment he had to force into her. But lately she just lays back in his chest and listens to his voice as he narrates the stories. He’s also aware this is because of you.

He’d expected to see you but it still takes him by surprise. Maybe it’s the change in setting. This is the first time he’s seeing you outside his home. How you manage to grasp the attention of six children at the same time is beyond him, but there you are, reciting a story about crayons going on a strike. He spots Dae, mouth agape in awe as he listens to you attentively.

Mai walks forwards, hiding behind a book shelf and observing the sweet scene that unfolds as the kids discuss the story.

“That’s your nanny?” Taehyung says, voice a whisper.

“Yeah.”

“I mean, your life has always somewhat resembled a movie but this is beyond.” He laughs, a little too loudly, earning himself a scowling from Mai as she looks back at them.

Jungkook frowns. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“Your nanny’s hot.” He tells his friend, unabashedly, “you are allowed to acknowledge objective attractiveness, you know?”

But before he can answer you’re wrapping up today’s session, turning to the kids and asking them if they enjoyed it. The loud cheers startle him a bit – he turns his head around as if making sure he was still in a library. The commotion is followed by a chorus of, ‘Yes, Miss ___.’

“Miss ___...” Taehyung sing-songs in a mock sultry voice, waggling his eyebrows at Jungkook.

“Shut up,” is all he says.

The kids get up, beginning to disperse, some coming to you for hugs or to sit at your lap to tell you things Jungkook can’t quite make up from a distance. They hand you books, offering their suggestions for next week’s book club and you accept them with a smile. You seem genuinely happy and excited – he finds it refreshing for some reason he can’t pin-point. Your nails are painted all a different colour, Jungkook notes. Toned down shades of yellow, green, blue, orange and pink. Maybe his colourful choice of an outfit for Soori wasn’t that far off. It looks good on you.

“Uncle Jungoo!” Dae’s voice breaks him from his trance and he comes to his knees, arms wide open as the little boy runs towards him. He picks him up in a hug once he crashes into his chest.

“Hi, buddy. Missed you.”

“Missed you, too.” His voice is sweet and Jungkook feels recharged already, his mood lifting. “Hi Soori Blue,” he says, turning to Soori.

“Soori Blue?” You ask, coming to stand in front of them.

“Hey, hey-” Taehyung is startled as Soori throws her entire body weight towards you, free-falling. Your reflexes don’t fail you and, thankfully, you catch her quickly. “Phew. You should be a baseball player.”

Jungkook is relieved to see her in your arms. For various reasons.

“She’s getting too fearless.” You say, shifting her around until she rests at the crook of your waist.

“I’m Taehyung, nice to meet you.” He extends his hand and you shake it.

“Nice to meet you, too. Dae has told me a lot about you.”

“Oh, likewise.”

“Hey,” Jungkook says, putting Dae on the floor.

“Uncle Jungoo, you know Miss ___?” The little boy asks, looking from you to Jungkook and back.

“Yes, buddy. She takes care of Soori when I’m away at work.”

“Wow, how cool!” He says and you smile at him.

“Come on, let’s get your backpack so we can go have pizza!” Taehyung says and that’s all it takes for Dae to run off excitedly.

“Kermit the Frog?” You ask, pulling down at Soori’s shirt to get a better look.

“Everybody keeps saying that.” He says, slightly irritated.

“I think it’s cool. But that’s because you’re the coolest. Aren’t you, Soo?” You coo at her.

“It’s her middle name,” he says, answering your previous question.

“Blue,” you state, looking at Soori. It fits her. “Cute.”

He simply nods.

Mai comes to you, warm smile adorning her face, “look who found you!” she tickles Soori’s tummy.

“A more than pleasant surprise,” you flush her plump cheek to yours.

“Hey, I love your dress.” Mai says. You look down at what you’re wearing. It’s a plain lilac dress. You thank her anyways. “Maybe you can give Ggukie some pointers.”

Dae calls for her and she excuses herself, leaving you and Jungkook alone once again. He’s a sight to behold today, that’s for sure. Out of his usual dark suits and dress shirts he looks even more youthful. A plain white shirt, somewhat oversized, resting a bit low over his collar bones. You have to mentally scold yourself for staring at his neck for that long. Light wash blue jeans with cuts at the thighs – Jeon Jungkook can dress his age.

Your next remark is inevitable.

“Ggukie, huh?” On a common day you wouldn’t dare joke around with him, let alone in such a condescending manner. But today you can’t help yourself.

“Miss ___, huh?” He jokes back. It leaves his mouth before he can process it and he regrets it immediately. What if you think it’s inappropriate?

But you laugh, chest fluttering a little at the fact he bit back. You give into the joke fully and say, “now who’s in charge?”

Jungkook hates how your words make his brain short circuit for a second too long. But he can’t help himself when his gaze meets yours and he gives you a smile. A big, genuine smile. Bunny teeth and everything. What a day.

He stares at you, taking you in. Taehyung’s words echo in the back of his head. He observes you with that objectivity he was talking about before. He sees it. It’s in your smile, he thinks. You smile with your whole face – it starts at your eyes, opening wide before they close in crescents, making the sides crinkle a bit. Your whole expression softens before it finally falls on your lips. Your lips which, objectively speaking, are full and cherry red. A natural pout to you that throws endearment into your every expression. You never fully look annoyed, he realizes. And it’s because of that pout.

But he knows there’s more besides objectivity when it comes to you. And before he allows his eyes to linger down your face to your body, he stops himself.

He cuts your moment short and gets back to business.

“I wanted to ask you if you’d be able to work this weekend?” He says, face back to his normal nonchalant expression it takes on around you. You pretend to ignore the way your heart sinks a little.

“Uh, sure. My friend Lucy can cover for me here at the library – the kids love her.”

“Great. It’s a short trip from Friday to Sunday. I have to attend the inauguration of my new resort. It’s only two hours away by plane.”

You don’t even have time to control the way your mouth drops, staring at him in utter confusion.

He remains unfazed.

~

“Jeon Jungkook is taking you on vacation?” Lucy asks, mouth parted in surprise.

“Lucy, no-” you start, but it’s to no avail.

“To the beach?!”

You haven’t even made it past the living room yet. Bag still over your shoulder, keys in hand. Lucy is buzzed for the early stages of a Saturday afternoon. She’d been perfecting her French baguette recipe and she simply could not not pair her success with an experience. So, she made a charcuterie board out of it. Red wine and everything – your glass had been placed in your hand the moment she opened the door.

“It is not a vacation. It is the inauguration of his new hotel. He wants Soori there so that throws me into the equation. By default.” You explain.

“Uh… it’s not even 1 pm, stop throwing his sexiness in my face by reminding me he owns hotels!” She huffs, pointing her index finger at you in a scolding manner.

“So, being drunk by noon is acceptable but don’t we dare throw sex in there?”

“Who said anything about sex?” her grin is wicked, to say the least.

“Lucy.”

“Hey, I am not to blame for the places your mind goes! But I’m also not one to blame you. I wouldn’t be any better at the prospect of seeing Jeon Jungkook in swim shorts.” You roll your eyes at this.

“I hate flying.”

“You’ve flown twice.”

“And I hated it.”

“You’re probably going to fly first class, courtesy of Mr. Jeon.”

“No,” you say, mind still fixated on your fear of heights, “we’re taking his plane.”

“What the fuck, ___?!”

~

Jungkook doesn’t think he’s ever seen you so quiet. And it’s not only the way you’re not trying to make small talk every chance you get the way you usually do. You’re eerily still, which is even more abnormal.

You’re both standing at the gates of the private airport, waiting for the SUV that will take you to his plane. Soori’s in his arms but she keeps trying to get your attention, offering you her plushie. When that doesn’t work, she attempts to hand you her pacifier – that doesn’t work either.

All through the short car ride you only get more nervous, leg bouncing in place as you stare out the window. A plane takes off in the distance and your eyes widen. You’re way too close. What if it just… fell down? You frown at your morbid thought.

As you step outside the SUV, you’re met directly with your means of transportation for the day. It’s a decent sized plane, creamy white with dark blue stripes grazing the middle. There’s a blue mat by the stairs that lead you to the entrance of the plane – the words The West End Collection written in white cursive letters. If your mind wasn’t too preoccupied with thoughts of how you feel like your life is nearing its end, you’d be able to form a witty remark on how presumptuous that is. But instead, you’re thinking about sending your mom a dramatic goodbye text. You know, just in case.

You hold tight onto the railing as you climb up the stairs, a bubbly air-hostess greeting the three of you as you step foot on the plane. The furniture in here looks more expensive than all of your belongings. Witty until the very end, you’ll claim that one.

“Welcome. Good morning, Mr. Jungkook. Miss Soori, long-time no see,” the air hostess coos at her. If Soori can do this, then you can, too. Right?

“Morning, Lydia. How’s the forecast looking today?” Jungkook asks, sitting Soori down in one of the cushiony seats.

“Blue skies ahead, Mr. Jungkook. A bit of wind up north will probably have us experiencing some turbulence through the second half of the trip, but it shouldn’t be too bad.”

You gulp. It’s loud enough to have them turning their heads, puzzled expressions searching for yours. You avoid their gazes.

Lydia senses your discomfort, though, and she walks over to you, motioning to one of the seats for you to sit down. You smile at her, unable to form many words. “Is there anything I can get you,” she asks.

“Huh?” You look up at her, eyes still a bit lost.

“Two iced americanos, please, Lydia.” Jungkook’s voice brings you back.

“Coming right up,” she says before turning around, making her way to the small kitchenette at the front of the plane.

Jungkook thinks about heading towards the back seats, his favourite single-sofa waiting for him. But he can clearly see the uneasiness you’re in and so he takes Soori in his arms, plopping them both in the seat in front of you.

“You okay,” he asks, looking for your gaze that seems to be fixed on nowhere in particular.

“I hate flying,” the words come out of you at speed lighting. “Well, I hate heights, more so.”

“Ahh,” but before Jungkook can find the words to calm down your nerves you hit him with a set of loaded ones.

“I also read somewhere that private flights amount to more deadly crashes than commercial ones do. Small planes are, statistically, more dangerous. As opposed to the big planes that are even safer than cars. Did you know that?” You’re word vomiting, something you do out of nervousness after your brain can’t tolerate stage one of fright: speechlessness.

Jungkook raises one brow at you, a small smile tugging at his lips and then he chuckles. Out of all your attempts at humouring him, this is what gets to him? He must be a sadist, you conclude.

“If Google says so…,” he says, a playful ring to his voice.

“It was a very reliable source.”

“They’re right.”

“What?” your voice shakes, you were hoping him and his big brain would refute your theory.

“Statistically, I mean. They are right. A lot of the crashes are due to poor servicing, though. We service our planes monthly, and always right before flying. So, unless the odds are not in your favour today, we should make it there in one piece.”

“The odds are never in my favour.” This has him full on laughing now and you have to admit the sound eases your nerves a little.

“Here, can you hold her for a minute?” You nod, reaching for Soori who falls into your arms effortlessly. You watch him head to the front of the plane.

You bounce her in your lap. She’s calm and unbothered and it eases you a little – your shoulders relaxing, releasing tension you didn’t even know you were holding.

Jungkook comes back after a bit – two iced coffees in his hands. He hands you one before he settles back on his seat. You thank him and he hums in return, letting his body melt into the cushions. His elbow rests on the armrest next to him, fingers coming to his lips as he observes you. You take a sip of your coffee and wince at the taste. He laughs.

“What is this?!”

“Iced americano,” he responds, feigning innocence, but the smile on his face gives him away.

“It is not.” You retaliate.

“Fine. Iced americano, pump of scotch.” His nonchalance astounds you.

“Jungkook! I’m- Soori-,”

“Relax, I’ve got her. No fun coffee for me. Plus, it’s not enough to have you seeing stars. Just enough to take the edge off.”

“This is not very appropriate work hours behaviour.”

“I won’t tell if you don’t.”

Now, you try. You try really hard to not fall into the cliché that is Jeon Jungkook. You try really hard to not take his words as anything other than what they are. In retrospect, he’s never even given you enough rope for you to second guess his actions. But seeing him in less impersonal contexts like this one, or the library last week, is playing dangerous games with the left side of your brain. You know, your rationality.

Being out-of-office suits him. His whole demeanour slows down, becomes a bit more mellow. He’s easier, to put it bluntly. He wears baggy, comfy clothes. His hair looks ruffly and you notice how soft his features look when he’s well rested. His duality is, pardon your French, mind-fucking. And so as much as you try, you’d be lying to yourself if you didn’t admit Jeon Jungkook has officially crossed the line of ‘yes, he’s attractive but also your boss’ to ‘yes, he’s your boss but he also sends a whole troop of butterflies straight to your tummy every time he throws that slow blink, tendered smile at you.’ And it might be the scotch but you’d also be lying to yourself if you didn’t acknowledge that you, in all of your cliché-loving glory, are in trouble.

He looks to the side, eyes falling to the window next to you. He reaches for it, bringing the panel down.

“Out of sight, out of mind,” he says, settling back into his seat, legs spreading as he makes himself comfortable.

So much trouble.

~

Jungkook’s less than conventional recipe to cure fear of flying seems to have worked for you. By the time the plane had taken off you were a bit more relaxed and, needless to say, hazy minded. It was quite amusing to see you fall into the effects of a little bit of hard liquor in the early stages of the morning.

Soori had fallen asleep soon after, the white noise coming from the plane’s engine getting to her. She now rested peacefully in a travel bassinet in the seat next to him.

The lights in the cabin grew dim and the both of you went into airplane mode. Headphones in, falling into a comfortable silence. Jungkook can’t quite remember when was the last time he’d fallen into comfortable silence with someone. And by someone he means an adult. He found himself enjoying it in a way that eased him. Jungkook has never experienced fear of flying – or heights. But he supposed the nervous edge you’d carried could pretty much resemble the one that had settled upon him the moment Ira left. That fear that convinces you that the end will see you crumbling – crashing. The type of fear that has the odds against you. So, when you fell back into that tranquillity that characterizes you, he felt himself relaxing, too. It wasn’t conscious but he welcomed it. He was tired of fighting so as to keep his pain comfortable.

He fidgets in his seat, eyes closed as he tries to fall asleep, but his attempts are failing. He’s not necessarily tense so he should be drifting – the white noise usually gets to him, too. Maybe he’s not comfortable enough, or warm enough. Or maybe his mind can’t stop thinking about the last thing he witnessed before closing his eyes. Your weight had shifted to the closed window of the plane, a dark brown leather journal propped on your knee, pen gliding against the ivory pages as you wrote away. You hadn’t paused once and he couldn’t help wonder what had your thoughts running at such a rapid pace. Plane crash statistics, probably.

His inability to fall asleep has him feeling restless so he finally gives in, opening his eyes. You’ve remained in the exact position they’d last left you in. He stares, taking advantage of how hyper-focused you seem to be. Your hold on the notebook is delicate and he notices how well-lived it looks. The soft leather has wrinkled at the corners and you’ve inked a couple of phrases he can’t quite make up into the fabric. He notices a little star in blue ink, slightly lopsided. Before he can stop himself, his lips form a smile. It lingers, softening his expression.

You feel it. His eyes on you. Your eyes leave the page, gaze shifting up, though he can’t tell your eyes are on him. You feel nervous at first but his smile pushes that feeling aside. It’s contagious so you mimic it, enjoying the built-up fuzzy feeling at the pit of your stomach. You’re not sure it’s inhabited by sole butterflies anymore. Something else makes way inside of you, a feeling which you keep unnamed in hopes you can tame it by doing so.

He breaks himself out of his trance, looking up. His eyes meet yours and his smile falters a bit. Yours doesn’t, though. It doesn’t lose its warmth, its welcoming nature. So, he lets his lips move to the beat of your actions once again.

You break the little eternity your exchange held, hand resuming your stream of consciousness. He lets himself watch you for a couple more seconds – lets himself indulge in your light, the same light he’d been avoiding.

His eyes flutter a couple of times before sleep settles upon him.

You’re the last thing he sees before he fully drifts.

~

You wouldn’t say you’re seasoned when it comes to hotels stays. Let alone five-star ones. The last time you stayed in one you and Lucy feared for your health to such extent you ended up showering with flip flops on.

The West End is nothing like anything you’ve experienced. Not only is it top-notch luxury and comfort from as early as stepping into the lobby but, you also get to experience your first taste of said luxury with the benefits rooming with the owner brings you. Not to mention the fact that the hotel doesn’t technically open its doors until inauguration tomorrow night – leaving you, Jungkook and Soori with an entire hotel to yourselves with the exception of the staff, of course. Staff who also happen to be at your service twenty-four-hours a day. Their words, not yours.

Well, there is another exception. It comes in a pair of five-inch heels and hair so sleeked back it’s giving you a headache.

“Mr. Jungkook,” her voice is the definition of cool, calm and collected. All of her, really.

“Kaya, nice to see you,” he retorts. You don’t miss the way he takes a less formal tone with her.

“Likewise,” she looks at Soori, who’s head is resting in her father’s shoulder. “Hi, sweetheart. Did the plane ride get you sleepy?” her voice softens but not enough to lose its sharpness. Soori gives her a loopy smile.

“Kaya, this is ___.” Jungkook turns to you and you proceed to shake her hand.

She smiles, nothing but politely. “Ah, yes. We’ve talked on the phone. It’s nice to finally meet you.” For some reason, said phone conversation had you picturing her as a stern lady well into her forties. A brown suit, short hair. Kaya can’t be any older than Jungkook and her black suit looks designer. She’s beautiful, too. In that femme fatale way.

“You too,” at this, she gives you another tight-lipped smile.

Jungkook starts walking absentmindedly, eyes scanning the lobby. He seems pleased. He turns to Kaya as he says, “so, give me the run down, Kay.”

Kay?

“We’re meeting with the event organizer in twenty to run through some last-minute details for the reception. After that, you have an appointment of the outmost importance with none other than rest and relaxation,” he shoots her a smile – a dazzling, boyish smile. She nods and continues, “your friends are arriving at nine tomorrow, the plane’s already on its way back to the city to pick them up. Brunch at ten, don’t be late. Your parents will be here at 1 pm, sharp. Lunch will be served at 1:15. Your father wanted a seaside view so you’ll be eating by the cabanas.” He rolls his eyes at this, “you know I don’t fight the man. Anyways, we’ll give them an official tour of the premises at 3. Reception begins at 6, we’ll cut the ribbon at 6:15, dinner at 7 and then the beach party. The plane will be ready for you on Sunday so just let me know when they can expect you and I’ll pass the message along.” She finishes, letting out a breath as to finalize her previous statement.

“You’re a Rockstar,” is all he says before you make your way to the elevator.

A Rockstar?

The elevator ride is quiet. Kaya types away on her phone at superhuman speed. Jungkook stands in the middle of the two of you, eyes penetrating the doors. Even Soori is quiet – falling in and out of sleep in her father’s arms.

The corridors are wide and long and it’s quite a walk to get to the room. Kaya stands in front of the double doors and taps the room key into the card reader. The doors come open and to say you’re impressed is an understatement.

The room is not quite a room. The first thing you see is the ocean. The balcony seems to be never ending, illuminating the space, and you’re so high up it feels like you’re at sea level. There’s a full kitchen to the side, marble island and everything, and a dining table that gives way to the living room. The finish of the room is in that impeccably clean and modern aesthetic you’ve grown used to since working for Jungkook.

“The West Wing,” Kaya states, pride lacing her voice. “Master bedroom is that way, Soori’s nursery is right next to it and opposite that we have the guest bedroom. Where you’ll be sleeping, ___.” She says the latter with an edge to her voice you don’t miss.

“Perfect. Thank you, Kaya. I’ll see you downstairs in ten?”

“You got it, Mr. Jungkook.” That’s the last thing she says before she turns around, heels clinking on the marble floors, pony tail swaying side to sides as she makes her grand exit.

Jungkook walks over to the balcony, sliding the doors open. The warm, salty breeze fills the space. It’s so nice it takes you a moment to register where exactly life has landed you today.

“Why does everyone call you Mr. Jungkook,” you ask, startling him a little as you come to stand next to him. The vastness of the ocean stands before you. It’s breath-taking.

“Mr. Jeon is my dad,” you nod at this, “plus, he’s still the tycoon around here.”

“All of this is yours, huh?”

He clicks his tongue, a pensative look to his face. “Ours, I like to believe.” He says, looking at Soori who’s just began to fully wake up. You smile at his words. “Hey, the meeting shouldn’t take long. Why don’t you two get changed and meet me by the beach? This one won’t sleep through the night if she naps again.”

“You got it, Mr. Jungkook,” you say, taking Soori from him. He shakes his head at you but you don’t miss the light chuckle that escapes his lips.

~

“It is an honour to be at your service again, Mr. Jungkook.” Mr. Ilsung bows repeatedly, smiling with pride as Jungkook taste tests the finger food set to be served at tomorrow’s reception.

“I think the honour’s all mine, Chef. This is- mmm,” He stuffs another canapé into his mouth.

Mr. Ilsung beams at the sight.

Growing up, Jungkook found himself spending more time in hotel rooms and lobbies than he did in his actual home. It was his father’s tactic to have him grow passionate about the business. It didn’t quite work back then. Instead, it would result in Jungkook sneaking out of his father’s sight, giving way to his many hotel escapades. He would find himself in the most remote of places – crossing every Do Not Enter and Staff Only sign that came his way.

He hid in rooftops and utility rooms but his favourite by far was the kitchen. He met Mr. Ilsung during one of those escapades when he was only seventeen. He wasn’t Chef back then, though. He’d only be assisting in the kitchen but they fell into a fondness that made him feel like family. He’d keep him company and in return, Mr. Ilsung would keep him well fed – treating him to all of his favourite foods, his touch taking on every recipe with a twist.

His wife had fallen ill a year ago, leaving him a widower. Everything happened so suddenly the man found himself walking into an early retirement, too consumed by sorrow. This had made Jungkook feel more nostalgic than he’d imagined possible, which lead him to present the man with an offer that he found himself unable to deny. Mr. Ilsung didn’t have kids, and now with his wife gone nothing was holding him to the city. Jungkook’s idea to make him Sue Chef at his new hotel had him packing up his belongings and starting his life over by the seaside. He was immeasurably grateful.

Jungkook sees one of the cooks walk over, holding an assortment of fruits, chocolates and a bottle of his favourite red wine inside a basket adorned with roses. “What is this?”

“A welcome gift, Mr. Jungkook. The chocolates are for Miss Soori, though.” Mr. Ilsung sets the basket atop the kitchen counter.

“This is very kind, Mr. Ilsung. Thank you very much.”

Jungkook takes one look at the basket and it doesn’t take his eyes long to find it – a greeting note, both his and Ira’s name written on it.

Kaya notices this and she visibly tenses next to him, eyes widening as she begins to apologize profusely.

“Don’t. And don’t give anyone hell over this, Kaya,” he says, narrowing his eyes at her. “It’s not their fault.” She just nods.

It’s not anyone’s fault. Not Kaya’s, not the concierge at the lobby who probably printed it, not Mr. Ilsung. He doesn’t even think he blames Ira anymore. Blame bounces around and he’s come to realize that in the end it doesn’t really do anything to ease pain. On the contrary, it fuels it.

“I will make sure it doesn’t happen again, though,” Kaya tells him and he turns to her, a soft but grateful smile on his lips. “Now go. Go build sand castles with that cute, chubby baby of yours.”

~

For once, Jungkook puts blame onto something that doesn’t tear at his heart. Quite the opposite actually, it heals him. He blames the ocean.

As he walks down the boardwalk that leads to the beach, he can feel the tiny grains of flyaway sand under his feet. It’s a sunny day and the water is a deep shade of blue, gentle waves breaking at the shore, darkening the once white of the sand.

He thinks you and Soori match the view. You wear white and she wears blue – in solid one pieces that even resemble each other in shape. She plays with the sand, curious as ever before she brings her hand to her mouth, probably swallowing a good amount before you’re frantically pulling her hand away. You laugh, though, and she takes on an expression that goes from fear to amusement at this.

Jungkook can’t help but laugh, too, and at this, you both turn to him. He tells himself you’re only mimicking Soori’s excitement to humour her, wind her up a little even.

“Say hi, daddy!” you tell her, waving her little hand. Jungkook smiles so, so big before he waves back, coming to sit down next to her.

“How’s my beach babe,” he asks, and you have to put actual mental strain to remember he’s talking about his daughter.

“The sand is incredibly entertaining, even after twenty minutes. Especially when we find seashells,” you open your palm, a handful of them coming to view. “Hey, does she like the water? The tide seems calm…”

“She does. Don’t know how she’ll feel about the temperature, though.”

You shrug. “We can try.”

Your hair dances in the wind a little bit and under the bright sun he can see just how soft it looks. His eyes travel down, stopping right below your neck – a silver necklace with a round pendant falls right in the middle, tiny blue jewels make up a star at its center.

“What do you write about?”

You scoff before saying, “will you laugh if I tell you?”

“Am I that much of an asshole?” He’s smiling but you can sense the worry in his voice.

“Language,” you say. “And I won’t confirm or deny without the presence of a lawyer.”

Jungkook laughs. He doesn’t know if he should be laughing at your bold wittiness but he lets himself throw his head back, throaty laugh falling past his lips. Joint with the sound of the ocean it makes for a heavenly sound, you think.

“Tell me – I won’t laugh without the presence of one either, promise.”

“Fine. Feelings, stories… poetry,” your voice comes to a murmur at the last word, gaze falling down.

“Do you turn every feeling into poetry?”

“Kind of, I guess. It helps – to turn feelings into something more. Say pain, for example. Isn’t it comforting to think it can become something other than just pain?” Your question is rhetoric and he doesn’t answer it – but he nods and something in his eyes tells you he’s storing your words somewhere in there.

Soori shrieks at the feel of the water hitting her little toes, but neither of you can tell if it’s in wonder or terror. You kneel down, taking in her expression and you laugh, looking up at Jungkook who’s thumbs are in Soori’s hold, tighter than he’s ever felt it.

“I think she likes it,” you say, salt water droplets falling from your hand to her head and she kicks excitedly at the feel, giggles leaving her mouth.

What if pain could turn into something other than just pain?

Jungkook thinks that’s brave.

He thinks you are, too.

~

i love them, i do. jungkook’s character development? so sexy of him. they’re so soft and cute and my heart just aaaaaaaaagh for these two. I truly hope u enjoyed. do let me know if u did, i love talking to u guys about it <3 thank u for all the love! chapter 4 is cooking and so are my sexy juices bc ggukie needs some loving methinks. so buckle up buckaroos!!!🤫

to build a home | chapter two

pairing: Jungkook x reader. ceo!jk + dilf!jk x nanny!oc

genre: strangers to lovers. angst. loads of plot. eventual smut

word count: 8.8k (y’all still need context but introduction to oc! and her super cool best friend I’m growing emotionally attached to)

warnings: angst. more angst. swearing. more crying baby </3. and more crying jungoo </3. also, jungkook’s an asshole (im sorry ok my mans is going thru it can u blame him). but! jungkook best dad. mentions of alcohol. mentions of abandonment. that’s pretty much it. last one was too heavy.

Author’s note: hi <3 first of all, i wasn’t really expecting my little (sad) story to get half of the attention it’s getting so i want to make sure i come in here and say thank u from the bottom of my heart if u took your time to read it and/or leave nice comments. you’re the best. now, getting to the juicy stuff – hi. this was a handful and im sorry but also im not??? this chapter introduces new characters that were so much fun to write and also our sexy nanny oc queen!! i almost almost blue balled u and left their first meeting / thoughts on one another for the next chapter but i honestly got so excited about it i couldn’t do that to yall. jk has no idea tho. his heart still hurts its been two minutes be patient w him. but the very last paragraph… yeah. thats all im saying. anyways ENJOY <3 xxxxx

This is a work of fiction. Please respect the members and their privacy. x

Texts in bold + italic resemble a recollection of past events.

Chapter Two

You love Saturdays, not afraid to fall into the cliché that coincides with pretty much 99% of the population that looks forward to the weekend. But Saturdays feel different. And here, let me throw in another cliché – they only get better the warmer the weather gets. A Saturday and summer type of person? Predictable. But you’re not one to shy away from clichés. You’d be out of a passion and perhaps have grown to hate your degree, making your four years of higher education exceptionally tedious. You’re diverting, though. Point is, you’re not afraid of being a little predictable in the name of a good cliché.

You woke up this morning and the smell of freshly baked goods had you jolting out of bed. The mornings are still chilly and you keep making the mistake of heading straight to the kitchen barefoot. Excitement usually has you making it in four to six strides and that’s all it takes to be embraced by warmth again. Your kitchen is tiny and the oven does wonders at keeping it in a steady cozy degrees Celsius.

“Good morning, lover.” Lucy’s sweet voice adds to the warmth.

Roommate, best friend and future pastry school graduate – the pet name you two share fits her like a glove. A human being so sweet people stick to her like flies often do to sticky, yummy forgotten treats. Her graduation is coming up in a couple of weeks so she spends her weekends diligently perfecting recipes. You are able to bask in the benefits as her personal guinea pig. And it’s never bad so you gladly comply.

“It is indeed, lover.” You return. She laughs, placing a scone in your hand. It’s plain but nothing about it feels so when you take a bite. “What do you even put in these? Crack?”

“Ding, ding, ding!” She exclaims, pointer finger in the air for dramatic effect. “Here, coffee – freshly brewed so you better not-” but before she can continue, you’re already burdening her existence, a handful of ice cubes falling into the drink she’d poured in your favorite jar.

“Sometimes it’s better to apologize than to ask for permission?” You look at her sweetly, feigning innocence.

“You are stripping my perfect scones of flavour by numbing your tongue with all that ice, ___!” She whines, making you laugh.

“Wait ‘til you see how I lather it with cheap, synthetic strawberry jam.”

“I give up on you.”

“No, you don’t.” You say, big smile plastered on your face. She smiles back.

You sit opposite her, propped up on a stool before your little kitchen counter and watch her work as you reap the benefits.

“You know… I have a good feeling about today. Today’s the day. I just know it.” She tells you.

“You think I’m breaking into the corporate world on a Saturday?” You ask, incredulous but humour lacing your tone.

“Shut up. You don’t even want in the corporate world,” she begins, eyes still glued to her scones, “just… keep your eyes open. You never know.”

“Will do.”

~

With eyes wide open, you make sure they’re glued to the half a dozen of children spread around the kid’s section of your local library. Saturdays are good because of scones and the undivided (although at times a bit disperse) attention of your very enthusiastic book club of keen readers aging from 4 to 6. Best age to start if you do say so yourself.

Today’s pick is Julián Is a Mermaid and it seems to be sparking a fairly good discussion within your avid readers.

“I want to be a mermaid.”

“Well, you can’t. it’s a book. Miss ___ say’s its fiction.”

“Miss ___ says we can be whoever we want as long as we’re kind.”

“Yeah, but mermaids don’t exist!”

“Okay, okay! Eyes up here. Let’s discuss calmly.” You break the discourse, even though you were secretly enjoying it. “Although it is true that this is a work of fiction like Seojun says, we can be whoever we want, like Kisoo says. In this case, Julián being a mermaid is simply a fun way to let us know that. We prefer fun stories, don’t we?”

They all break into a cheer, affirming that yes, indeed, we prefer fun stories. You give yourself a mental pat in the back. Good saves are a talent you’ve learned to master with little kids who oftentimes lack a filter. You wish you could be like that at times. Bold but soft and (most often than not) kind.

The clock on the wall nears 12 o’clock and you close the book in your lap, turning once again to the kids.

“Okay, kiddos! Did we have fun?” Your question is received by yet again another burst of cheers. You giggle. “Are we looking forward to having even more fun next week with Duck Rabbit?” Another cheer, this time louder. You feel like a Rockstar. “That’s what I like to hear. Okay. You guys can play, draw or have some free reading time until pick up.”

They disperse, gathering in little groups or finding various interests around the colourful play section surrounded by high shelves heavy with more books than you can count.

You engage into brief conversations with the parents as they reunite with their overly hyper children, swarming them with detailed recounts of their participations for the day, their favorite parts of the story and loads of bold ‘I want to be a mermaid!’ statements. That’s usually your queue – you’re not one to break a heart with the harsh truths of the world.

There are only two kids left, quietly sat in one of the small tables, fully invested in their drawings.

Your eyes divert to the window and you see Dae’s mom. A pretty brunette that, if you didn’t know better, would be convinced she’s the ripe age of twenty-three, just like yourself. You’ve actually found yourself looking forward to your small talk with her during pick up – time and time again making sense of Dae’s sweet and light-hearted personality through his mom.

You walk over to the little boy, kneeling in front of him. “Hey, Dae…,” you say softly, not wanting to disrupt his focus.

“Whaff?” He replies, turning to you slowly, one eye still glued to his drawing. You melt at the slight lisp he gets sometimes when he’s a bit distracted.

“Look who’s here.” You say, and right that moment his mom makes her way through the doors.

“Mama!” He all but screams, voice so sweet it sounds gooey, making you melt.

“Ahhhhh, hi baby! Did you have fun? We missed you so, so much. Daddy’s next door getting you donuts.” Mai says, knees coming to hit the ground as she wraps the little boy in her arms, a mischievous smile at the mention of sweet treats.

“Donuts?” It’s the only thing Dae can grasp from her sentence.

She laughs. “Yes, but only after lunch, okay? We’re going to grandma’s today, remember?” he nods, excitement written all over his face. Only now do you notice just how much it resembles his mother.

Mai gets up from the ground, sending Dae off for his backpack before she turns to you, smiling.

“___, you make his Saturdays so magical. My husband is considering never taking him to Disneyland again.” She says, earning a laugh from you.

“Please, don’t let me be responsible for that.” You tell her, light chuckles still leaving your lips. “They make my Saturdays magical, too.”

Dae makes his way back, coming to stand in between the two of you. He looks up at you, soft curls coming to rest in front of his eyes before he brushes them off.

“Thank you for having me today, Miss ___. I had fun.” He sounds shy when he says it but never once breaks eye contact.

“I had fun, too, Dae. Thank you for coming. Can’t wait to see you next week!” You tell him and he beams at your welcoming words. He softly nods and turns to his mom who’s looking at him proudly, as if he’d nailed the previously rehearsed sentence.

You wave at the two of them and see them out, promptly repeating the same actions as you did with Dae, this time with the last kid and parent encounter of the day. Another sweet goodbye before you’re turning around, ready to tidy up after today’s session.

You’ve only just had enough time to put away the box of crayons littering the floor before the sound of approaching footsteps makes you turn around. You see Mai walking towards you, Dae nowhere to be seen this time.

“Hey, is everything alright? Did Dae forget something?” You ask.

“Hi again. Yes, yes. Everything’s alright. I wanted to talk to you actually.” She says, finally coming to a stop in front of you.

“Oh… sure. What’s up?”

“What are you doing after this?” She asks and immediately realizes how nosy she must sound at the way you wince slightly at the question. “Oh God, I’m sorry. Let me rephrase that… what do you do? I mean, do you work, study…?”

You notice her tense up, nerves brewing at her sudden intrusion and you reassure her with a soft smile. You don’t blame her – you’d want to know, too, if your child was spending time with someone who could very well be considered a stranger.

“I, um… I graduated three months ago. Literature. That was my major. I worked the night shift at a bar through most of university. I recently left, though. The atmosphere was getting heavy, I guess,” you say, sparing her the details, “I do work freelance for some publications at the moment, but you could say I’m just… floating for the time being. Looking.” Your admission makes you shy, gaze falling down.

“Oh… I thought you’d be pursuing a career in education.” Mai says, though she doesn’t sound surprised.

“No, no. I volunteer at the book club because it sort of gives me a sense of purpose. It’s easy to lose that when you’ve recently graduated. I didn’t want to feel like my life was in a complete pause. Plus, I like the kids. They keep me hopeful.”

Mai tries her best to keep her facial expression as stoic as ever – offering gentle nods and smiles as she takes in your words. But inside, she’s plotting. You’re too good to be true. Granted, she’s known this for a while – Saturday book club excitement begins as early as Thursday for Dae. Your entire essence feels trustworthy, sweet and patient.

So, Mai plots.

“I have a friend…,” she starts, taking you aback, eyebrows raising up in surprise. “I think he might need your help.”

~

“So? What did you say? Did you agree to it? I told you I had a good feeling about today!” Lucy’s frantic, bits of flour dust her cheeks lightly. She hasn’t left the kitchen since you left this morning and now the scones are accompanied by batches of croissants, madeleines, eclairs – you name it. Her own personal Café de Fleur.

You have to admit, her excitement is contagious.

“I mean, I agreed to have her give him a call. To put in a reference for me. But I don’t know, Lu.” This earns you a scowl from her

“What do you mean you don’t know? This could be amazing, ___. Enlightening, even!”

“Enlightening is a stretch.” You say, hand coming to rest at your hip.

“Now, don’t be ungrateful. What else do you need? She all but gloated about her more than financially willing single dad friend that’s in desperate need of a hot nanny-” now you’re the one scowling. “Sorry, a nanny. Kids come naturally to you!”

“She’s nine months old! She’s a baby, not a kid. I can’t bribe her with lollipops and picture books.” You protest.

“Even better! Babies are less demanding of attention and bribes. You just have to make sure she stays fed and out of poopy diapers and voila! Happy kid- baby. Happy baby!” she says. At what sounds like a defeated sigh coming from you, she presses, “besides… you could have time to work on your writing, in-between naps or whatever. What other job gives you the benefits nap time does?”

She has a point. It shouldn’t take too much to convince you – you do need the job. The savings you’ve been amounting to since university will not last you forever and you couldn’t solely rely on the hopes of getting your big break as a writer overnight.

“Yeah, I guess you have a point.”

“Plus… being a single parent must not be easy.” You smile at your friend’s inability to remove her feelings from the vaguest of situations. “You could actually help out a family more than you’d realize, ___.”

Her words make your heart sink a little, even though you can’t quite put your finger on why. As much as you make fun of Lucy for shining subjectivity into every context, you can’t help but admit you’re the same. You don’t know anything about this family; let alone anything that would spark the uneasiness that tugs at your heart at her words. Yet you can’t control the flutters in your chest at Lucy’s suggestion, insisting you could be of help.

In that moment, you find yourself hoping you can be.

~

It’s Monday.

Jungkook hates how much of a Monday it feels like. He was never one to fixate on the days of the week as such – usually having his secretary keeping track of his days, making sure to fit personal time and Soori’s doctor’s appointments in the middle of his crazy work schedule. He’s never attached days to feelings.

But today is a Monday and it feels like Jungkook’s own personal idea of hell. The weekend was hell, too. He decided to bring Soori along on his business trip, her recent clinginess to her father breaking Jungkook’s heart during every parting. Mai tries to soften the reality around the edges a bit, reassuring him she only cries for a little longer once he leaves her in the mornings before heading to the office.

Suelgi had tagged along for the trip and would babysit during the day as Jin and Jungkook oversaw the advancements in the project. He felt proud. This was the first of his hotels that he has overseen from the very beginning. An idea that’s now materialized into a twenty stories high beach front resort. Soori was not in the mood to necessarily celebrate, though, amounting to a two-day, one (sleepless) night hellish weekend trip.

The back and forth has really been taking a toll on her schedule as well, leaving them with odd feeding hours and a regression in her sleep training that has Jungkook fearing for his ability to function on sole motor skills.

He’s in the middle of changing her diaper as she fidgets in his grasp, mindlessly playing with a bunched-up sock. He squints. His bunched-up sock. Where did she even get that? He checks his watch – 7:20 AM. Not bad. Mental pat in the back, because he basically lives off his own reassurance nowadays. The pleasure of the accomplishment of not running late for once is short-lived as his phone starts ringing loudly. His eyes search for it and although he can hear its proximity, it’s nowhere to be seen.

“Fuck.” He mutters. Soori coos at him and he covers her ears quickly, “you didn’t hear that.”

The ringing stops and he continues his task of getting her clean and changed for the day. Another short-lived moment of bliss as the ringing fills the walls of the nursery again. Now he worries – it could be a work emergency. Or Suelgi reaching out to let him know something came up and she won’t be able to look after Soori today. He takes another glance around the room and sees the buzzing device camouflaged by a family of plushies on top of one of Soori’s toy baskets. It doesn’t stop ringing.

“Don’t move, okay?” He says to Soori, who’s laying on top of her changing table. The second the words leave his lips he realizes the calibre of stupidity the request holds. He closes his eyes, shaking his head in disbelief. “Intermission,” he says, taking a very butt-naked Soori in his arms and heading to retrieve his phone. How did that even get there? He recites a mental prayer in hopes his daughter doesn’t have an accident – one all over his tightly pressed white button up.

Mai’s name flashes on the screen of his phone.

“Hello?”

“Gguk. I have the best news.” She says, way too cheerful for 7 am.

“Enlighten me.” He responds, immediately regretting the sarcastic ring to his voice.

Mai doesn’t seem to mind, he can hear the smile on her face when she says, “I found you a nanny!”

“Send her CV my way. I’ll check it out as soon as I get to the office.” He returns.

“I’m her CV! And her letter of recommendation.”

“No.”

“Gguk-”

“I’m not going to leave my daughter in the care of someone that doesn’t have the right qualifications and/or enough years of experience to lack a proper CV.” Jungkook’s voice is stern and he knows Mai is rolling her eyes on the other side of the line.

“Oh, Ggukie. You’re funny. If employment worked that way you’d be out of a job.” Her voice doesn’t hold an ounce of menace but she knows she has to be stern, too.

“Hotels can fail. My daughter’s wellbeing, cannot.” He argues, voice sounding defeated.

“Okay. Hear me out. She’s Dae’s teacher. From Saturday book club – you know how he’s always telling you about it?” Mai explains.

“Oh, she’s a teacher?” He admits that grants him a glimmer of hope.

“Well, no,” and before Jungkook can object again she continues, “but! Gguk, she is sweet, and patient and I’ve seen her with the kids, she can easily reason with them. They love her. And respect her. Come on, just one interview. Get to know her. Let Soori get to know her, too. She can’t be worse than all these nannies you’ve been interviewing that look straight out of that one scene in Mary Poppins. Please?”

Jungkook is about to object again, having made up his mind at ‘well, no’ but before he can begin to form a sentence, he feels a wet patch growing at the center of his stomach, quickly spreading down in a steady stream. He looks down at Soori who looks back at him innocently, unaware of her accident, slightly relieved at having an empty bladder. She smiles at him, a soft giggle falling past her lips.

Now they’re running late.

“Okay.”

“Gguk just- what?” Mai says, astounded.

“Give me her number, I’ll have my assistant arrange the interview.” He sounds defeated, but Mai doesn’t miss the sudden determination in his voice.

“You won’t regret it, Gguk. Trust me.”

And in that moment, he finds himself hoping he doesn’t.

~

“So, it’s a coffee date?”

Lucy’s voice nears as she enters your room, pushing the clothes that you’ve aggressively scattered all over your bed to the side. She takes a seat, hands wrapped around a scolding hot cup of tea. You can see the steam dance out of the mug in little twirls.

“No. it’s not a coffee date. His assistant just asked me how I liked my coffee. Must be a rich people thing, you know?” You argue.

“Politeness?” She asks, raising a brow.

“No. Planning ahead of time.”

“And what did you tell her?” She presses, bringing the mug to her lips as she takes a sip.

“Huh?”

“About how you like your coffee.”

“Iced americano.” You tell her, a wicked smile tugging at your lips.

She rolls her eyes. “Please, it’s like you want to butcher this!”

“Not actively attempting to, no. But if I can’t find anything remotely appropriate to wear then that might just be the case.” You say, exasperated. You’d spent the good first half of your morning rummaging around your tiny closet for anything that would resemble even an ounce of professionality. Needless to say, your pastels and florals, mostly making up an absurd amount of sun dresses, were not quite cutting it.

“Please, ___, you dress like a grandma that picks up gardening as soon as the weather goes any higher than 20 degrees. Or, even better, -” she continues but you turn around, narrowing your eyes at her. “The cutest grandma, though. Sexy, too.” She winks at you and you can’t help but smile.

“It’s just not… professional enough.”

“Since when do nannies have to look cookie cutter corporate? I’d be content enough with someone that didn’t pose any immediate threat. Like say, you walk in there with a spike collar on – that might be dangerous. But then again, you can’t really judge a book by its cover.” She concludes, assertive nod to the head before she takes another sip.

You laugh, shooting finger guns at her, giving her the point.

She’s right. Your choice of fashion was never a matter of inconvenience during Saturday book club in the library. And you do sort of sport the grandma-chic. You should be fine.

Yet you can’t shake the slight intimidation you feel. You know it’s only normal to dwell on nerves or pre work interview jitters. As much cookie cutter corporate this isn’t you still want to do well. You still want his approval.

The intimidation dates back to two days ago. Mai had called you, having asked for your number to give you further details, and she gave you the good news! As she’d exclaimed.

“His assistant will call you to arrange an interview. It’ll probably be sometime this week.” Mai’s voice still held the same enthusiasm as it did a couple of minutes prior during her call with Jungkook.

“That sounds perfect,” you say, although you have to force the words out of you. You weren’t expecting everything to unfold so quickly.

“You’ll do good. Soori will love you.”

“Thank you for this opportunity, Mai. It- the timing was just right.” You don’t feel like putting any pressure on her by admitting just how desperately you need this. This is just an interview after all.

“Trust me, likewise.” She says this and it leaves you wondering for a minute. Her voice sounds serious, but you don’t press.

You’re about to say your goodbyes but her words stop you.

“Jungkook.” She says, seemingly out of nowhere.

“Huh?” You frown, a bit lost by the prior.

“Jeon Jungkook. That’s his name. Just realized I never told you.”

Jeon Jungkook. It’s in the name. That’s where your intimidation stems from. He sounds like he belongs in the list of professors you avoided in university. The ones that led the elective subjects you took to build up credit. Like accounting and introduction to physics 01. You shudder at the thought.

Another look-over your messy clothes sprawled all across your bed earns you another shudder, followed by a loud groan.

Lucy scams through it, giving it one last glance before she grabs a handful of yellow fabric. She doesn’t gravitate towards it for any reason in particular – simply with the intention to ease your torment and put an end to this discussion.

“Here. Wear the yellow dress.” She says, sure of herself, even though she has no idea what the yellow dress actually looks like. It could be one of your grandma chic but make it ass cheek length for all she knows.

But the angels are on Lucy’s side today and when you reach for the dress, holding it against your body as you stare at the mirror, it’s not half bad. It cuts in a straight line over your chest, fabric rouching slightly at the top before it falls seamlessly right above your knees. Discreet enough. Cute bows at the strings that hold it over your shoulders, too. You are keen on the gardening look, aren’t you?

“It needs a cardigan.” You say, reaffirming your previous realization.

“How Victorian of you. Please refrain from showing any ankle – the man might have a heart attack. I heard nine months old are judgy, too.” Lucy remarks.

“I was planning on wearing my converse – is that too casual?” You ask, completely ignoring her witty remarks. She rolls her eyes at you and watches you pace around your room, trying to tidy up the mess you’d make.

You’re looking through your cardigans when she breaks the silence.

“What do you think happened?”

“What do you mean?” You ask, turning around, eyes meeting her serious ones.

“I mean, single dad… desperately in need for a nanny… rich, assuming from his side of town. Do you think something happened? Where’s the baby mama?” Your eyes widen at her last question.

“Well, I don’t know. But I’m sure it isn’t any of the crazy scenarios flashing through your mind right now. Probably a messy divorce or something.” You declare.

“Guess we’ll find out soon enough.”

~

“Soo, look here, baby. Open wide!” Jungkook’s words feign cheerfulness but they’re bordering on a plead. As he brings the spoon closer to Soori’s mouth she lets out a high-pitched shriek. By far the loudest since this whole ordeal unfolded twenty minutes ago.

Her eyes are swollen, wet with tears that fall down her face that’s now red from all the crying and screaming lunch time has provoked. The first few days she refused solid food had Jungkook giving in – cradling her in his arms as he bottle fed her until she calmed down. But it’s been three days of this and he needs to be a parent.

So that’s where his Thursday lunch break finds him – standing in front of a very angry baby, completely clueless, a colourful assortment of pureed baby food adorning his kitchen island. Soori’s cries come to a surprising stop and he knows she’s not only tired but also hungry. He tries again, lowering the spoon to her, holding in his breath as she just stares at it. She kicks, body jumping so abruptly inside the confinity of her high chair it startles Jungkook, hands coming to hold her still as he shushes her gently.

Amidst the sea of broken feelings that slowly tear him apart this is perhaps the most painful. He didn’t think Soori would be so receptive to her mother’s departure. Jungkook doesn’t know if her change of demeanour is a reaction of his sulking and suffering, or if she feels Ira’s absence more than he can give her credit for. She’s just so little. Bliss still carries her through most mornings and nights – they were Jungkook’s to begin with, as he took every chance he possibly could at home to spend with her. He likes to believe that her mother’s missing presence isn’t something she doesn’t quite grasp by notion. But he can’t deny that she feels it by instinct. His heart breaks all over again at her innocence. He wonders if she’s confused, tries to decipher her feelings as he stares at her. Her mouth opens and closes in breathy whimpers. His eyes sting with the promise of a new set of tears at the feeling.

“Mr. Jungkook?” Mrs. Chae’s dulcet voice startles him. She looks apologetic when he jumps at the sight of her. “I’m sorry to disturb you. Your assistant has just called to remind you about your interview, sir. I thought I’d let you know.”

Fuck. The interview. In the middle of lunchtime chaos, he’d managed to forget about it.

“Uh- yes. Yes. Thank you, Mrs. Chae,” he takes a glimpse at his daughter, whom he still hasn’t manage to feed. He feels like a failure.

“If you want, I can try?” she says, referring to the get the baby to actually eat ordeal he was engaged in a minute ago.

“I’d appreciate that, yes.” She’s an old lady, and although sweet, lacks the patience to deal with the babysitting duties she’d had to take on ever since Ira left. But Jungkook needs all the help he can get, so he accepts hers. “If she keeps fussing just give her a bottle. She needs to eat.” She simply nods. He feels slightly judged – he keeps breaking. Stuck between a wall and a dead-end street. A bottle or starving his nine-month-old. A really easy one, yeah.

He leans down, kissing Soori’s forehead, whispering, “be good, baby.”

He makes his way from the kitchen to the living room, his pace picking up as he walks straight to the guest bathroom before he locks it.

He doesn’t bother turning on the lights as his back leans against the door, body sliding against it until he hits the floor. He breaks. It’s not the loud sobs he let out the first couple of days – he’s pretty sure he’s ran out of those. It’s the silent tide of tears that build in the corners of his eyes as his lost gaze penetrates an empty spot. He stares so hard until his line of vision goes blurry and he blinks. And only then do the tears fall. He doesn’t know why he suppresses them anymore. He’s just so fucking tired. He doesn’t know where the pain starts nor does he know where it ends. It’s just there. Silent, cold, sharp. An all-consuming overwhelm that shares his days and nights – backstabbing him just when he thinks it’s getting better.

He starts to get angry – what he’s come to identify as step two of his emotional vortex. But before he can fully register it, the doorbell rings, saving him from himself.

~

Your fingers hover over the doorbell. The touch screen doorbell. You try not to but your mind races with, quite frankly, unproductive thoughts.

Who even needs this much technology? You direct your gaze up, taking in the sight in front of you. People that live in such humble abodes like this one, you think. The house resembles something out of those Architectural Digest magazines you skim through in the library to kill time. It reminds you of a cut out you pasted in your vision board – idea courtesy of none other than Lucy after reading one chapter from The Secret.

it’s big, that’s to put it lightly. The shape almost boxy – wide and long, walls a contrast between white and dark mahogany wood. Two palm trees adorn the entrance, one taller than the other, side by side. Palm trees? You’re gawking now, you know you are. Three cars take up the vast parking space – two that seem to be identical, only in different colours. Black and white. That’s cliché, even for you. A Range Rover comes to view at the far end, almost towering the two coupes – it’s black. You have to admit it’s a satisfying colour palette. But who needs three cars? You shake your head, catching yourself before you free-fall into the incessant prying.

You make a mental note to stop staring as you fixate your gaze back to the door. Your eyes come back to the doorbell.

Does it ever run out of battery?

You’re about to reason with your brain on why that is a stupid question when the front door swings open from the inside. You tense up slightly, running your hands down the front of your dress nervously as your eyes come up to take in the sight before you.

Now, as afore mentioned, you’re not one to shy away from a good cliché; but the one before you finds you perplexed, to say the least.

He’s tall – so much so you have to shift your gaze upwards to meet his face. And when you do, you’re met with something you can’t quite put into words. But he doesn’t need words. His beauty speaks sonnets you’ll never be able to utter with ordinary words – so ethereal you quickly come to an spoken understanding. His hair is dark and thick, falling softly on top of his forehead, parting at the middle. His eyes look red and even though they’re a bit fallen they look impossibly big – if you look long enough, they become starry. You think your own eyes are deceiving you but when he blinks slowly and opens them again, you’re met with galaxies.

He’s managed to make formal attire look effortlessly casual. You take him in – black slacks, perfectly fitted against his toned legs. His white dress shirt exposes more skin than your sanity can bear, the three top buttons undone and his sleeves rolled up. Tattoos that seem to be never ending adorn his right arm that maintains a tight grip on the door as he holds it open for you.

“Mr. Jeon?” Your voice mirrors the confusion that inhabits your head. The title feels off – this man looks like he could’ve been part of your graduating class. But who makes it this big after three months post grad?

The left side of your brain, also known as rationality, hopes this is not Jeon Jungkook, the man about to interview you. For a potential job. To babysit his daughter.

But the right side of your brain hopes it is.

“Just Jungkook is fine.”

Damn it.

“Uh- come in, please.” He says, making way in the entrance for you to step in.

It’s bright – the house illuminated by the light coming from the endless windows that take up the space, floor to ceiling, east to west. The minimal décor perfectly complemented by a perfect view of the boundless shade of green that make up the backyard; the blue of the pool reflecting against the glass.

“Here, my office’s this way. Follow me.” His voice breaks you out of your trance and you nod, following right behind him.

His strides are determined yet effortless, mimicking his essence alone. But you can’t stop thinking about his eyes – bruised with what seems like lack of sleep and red veins so prominent around his irises you wonder if it’s the prior or if he’s been crying.

Stop prying.

He comes to a stop in front of a door that he holds opens for you, letting you go in first. You smile at the action. He doesn’t return it.

“Please,” he gestures to one of the chairs and you sit down, opposite to where you assume he’ll be sitting; a wide table, that matches the overall décor of the house, separating the two of you.

He looks at the tray Mrs. Chae has left for the two of you, seeing his usual coffee order has doubled. He quirks a brow, taking one look at you, but you seem to be lost as you take in your surroundings. He grabs both glasses, placing one in front of you.

“Thank you.” You say, voice soft.

He rounds the desk and comes to sit in front of you, settling into the chair before he takes a sip from his coffee. He clears his throat and this makes you straighten up in your seat. Here we go, you tell yourself.

“Do you have any questions for me before we start?” His gaze finally meets yours, undivided for the first time since you walked inside his home.

But his question takes you aback. He looks like the type to shove you abruptly into the enquiry portion of the interview.

“Um…,” you’re already stuttering and Jungkook tries not to but he looks exasperated. “The dynamic,” you attempt to answer with secureness, “what does it look like?”

His left eyebrow quirks rapidly at your question, almost instinctively. “She’s nine months old. She naps two to three times a day. Solid food three times a day,” his voice shakes at this, “formula four times a day. Quick bath throughout the day if she gets messy, a long one before bed time. Goes through diapers like she’s keeping Pampers afloat. Enjoys anything loud with buttons during her free time.” The last two remarks are more sarcastic than they are funny. Condescending even.

“And yours?” He doesn’t miss the slight irritation in your voice, although you look impassive.

“My…?”

“Dynamic. What does it look like?”

Your question aggravates him slightly. If he were to answer it with outmost sincerity, you’d probably label him as a bad father – a weak one even. He thinks about Soori right now, probably propped up against her favorite pillow in the couch as she suckles on her bottle. The word discipline swarms his thoughts. He frowns. She’s nine months old for God’s sake.

He composes himself before replying, “I work at the office, though I’ve been working from home more often lately. Mornings and nights she spends with me. Lunch time, too, when I’m home. I tend to have seasons where work requires more travel than others, but that time hasn’t come so I’m yet to figure it out. I don’t work on weekends unless strictly necessary.” The brief but packed run down comes to an end but all you can do is remain silent in your seat; eyes still glued to his. “Is that all?”

“Yes,” your murmur.

“Your work experience is… not ideal for this sort of job. Are you aware?” Now you know why he’s loaded. He’s a fucking shark.

“I am aware.” You badly want to say something, anything, to save your ass but your mind is at a complete blank at his unashamed boldness.

“What do you really want to do?”

“Pardon?”

He exhales loudly. “What career path do you want to pursue? Did you go to school? – Mai told me you volunteer at the library – is that something you want to do long term?”

Damn, he’s ruthless.

“I’m sorry I should’ve brought a CV of some sort-”

“Yes, you should’ve. But you didn’t. So, we’re just going to have to work with what we have.” He says, interrupting you.

You look up at him, your sincere eyes meet his. They look as tired as they did when he first greeted you. You try to steady your breathing, easing your mind as you pose a brave front.

“I majored in Literature – out of sole passion. I didn’t really think about where it would land me when I started, I just did it because I loved it. I graduated three months ago and no, I don’t love it any less. Even if my degree hasn’t landed me nowhere you’d consider successful.” He visibly winces at your words. “I quit my job at a bar because the atmosphere was making me feel uncomfortable. The library felt comforting enough so I stuck to that. It makes me happy. Volunteering, I mean. Not in the selfless way you’d probably think but in a it brings me more peace of mind than it does them way, I guess. They’re kids, nothing holds their amusement for long enough. I’d hope the books and my words do, but I can’t know that for sure. I’m just a tiny slice of their week. But that’s fine by me.”

Jungkook gapes at you. He takes your words in and has to admit your sincerity takes him by surprise. You’ve uttered more words in the last two minutes than you have since you arrived. His head is pounding. He doesn’t believe you’re any more qualified just because you had a burst of honesty spill out of you. But he’d be a fool not to regard you with admiration for it.

At his silence, you continue, “I don’t know what career path I want to pursue. Or maybe I do, but it somewhat scares me. I like to write, but it’s a tough industry to break into. I’m not worried or desperate to know, though. I don’t know how long it took you to amount to all your success – you look fairly young to me. But I believe even the most successful of people felt at least a little lost at twenty-three,” you catch yourself slipping into a cliché so you mask it with a, “or whatever.”

He nods, but it doesn’t necessarily convey approval. It’s more so as if he’s digesting everything you’ve unloaded onto him. You don’t care at this point; having come to terms you didn’t stand a chance in Jeon Jungkook’s nanny boot camp to begin with.

“I agree,” he says and his words find you wide eyed. “I don’t even believe most people should decide on something they’ll take on for the rest of their lives that young. I wouldn’t necessarily say you’re lost, though. Finding your way seems to be a more fitting term.”

His words are comforting and the warm feeling pooling at the pit of your stomach travels all the way up until it settles in your chest. They feel almost welcoming, even as his gaze remains stern.

“You didn’t ask and at this point you probably don’t care but… I’m a fast learner and there are a couple of things in life that come naturally to me and I’ve been told that kids are one of them.”

He nods, giving you a tight-lipped smile before he’s pushing his chair back and coming to a stand. You follow his movements, walking alongside him in silence as you exit his office.

You don’t expect the loud shriek that echoes through the walls when you walk down the corridor, back to his living room. Concern laces his features and he walks a little faster, but when you make it to the living room and past the front door you don’t know if you should keep following him.

You do anyways.

Upon entering the kitchen you’re met with one hell of a sight. Sat in a high chair is whom you presume to be Soori. A very unhappy version of her, anyways. She’s kicking and screaming so loud you fear she might break free from her constraints, the baby harness holding her back every time. You know she’s upset when her cries are also met with tears – real tears. Not crocodile ones babies often times shed when they can’t express discomfort so they just cry. In front of her, Mrs. Chae is holding a bottle and a pink plastic bowl, eyes going from one to the other and then to Soori, in complete desperation.

“What’s wrong?” Jungkook says, coming to stand next to them.

“She- she won’t take her bottle. I tried the puree again but she doesn’t want that either. I’m sorry Mr. Jungkook.” Mrs. Chae says.

“Has she been crying this whole time?” He asks. Mrs. Chae simply nods.

The both of them keep going back and forth, with Jungkook asking how many ounces she had, if the bottle was perhaps cold. Or too hot.

You look at Soori, who’s crying hasn’t come to a cease, if anything getting louder at her dad’s arrival. You can see the grabby hands she makes at him and it tugs at your heart a little. You walk over to her. She’s probably the cutest baby you’ve ever seen – even when her chubby cheeks are flushed from all the crying and her eyes are swollen. A silky, single strand of black hair is held up by a pink bow – hair coming up in a little sprout. Adorable.

She looks just like her dad – button nose and big doe eyes. Not to mention the puffy cheeks.

Your next move is bold but you know this works. Well, you don’t know for sure but you can try. Her exasperation is getting to you too at this point. You reach for one of the bowls in the kitchen counter – a mush of what smells like peas. You plop a dollop of the puree in the table of her high chair. She looks confused at first, taking in the stranger in front of her and then the green glob that adorns the once impeccably white surface. You notice just how clean she is, as well. You’ve never seen a child this clean during lunch time.

After a couple of seconds her cries come to a stop. She looks at you one last time before she redirects her gaze to her food – hands curiously coming to smack at the mushy peas. Jungkook turns around at the sudden quietness. His eyes look like they’re about to burst out of his skull when he sees his daughter stare at her messy fist, hand covered in baby food. She observes it tentatively before bringing it to her mouth, her whole hand coming past her lips as she nibbles on its content. She looks nonchalant to say the least but when her hand repeats the movement, shoving another handful into her mouth, he feels like he could cry of relief.

“How-” he starts, flabbergasted.

“Um… she’s not going to feel fully comfortable with the sight and texture of the food if she doesn’t get a chance to explore it with her hands first.” You answer.

Soori hums in sweet satisfaction as she feeds herself. Jungkook turns to her, big toothy smile at his baby’s new found sound. It’s the first time you’ve seen his face take on that expression.

“Is it good, baby?” he coos and she smiles back at him, nose scrunching up imitating her father’s, mushy peas up to her hairline.

You smile. God, they’re cute.

But you know this is your queue. You adjust your bag strap over your shoulder, clearing your throat as you prepare to say goodbye and turn around. You can see yourself out.

“Thank you for-”

His next words nearly give you whiplash and it takes you a while to process them.

“When can you start?”

~

“And then what did you say?” Lucy listens to your detailed recollection of the recent events. She nods and winces and shakes her head at the brutal recount.

“Well, I was about to say goodbye. Yes, that chubby cheeked baby was calling my name but I couldn’t get out of there faster. But then,” you pause, remembering the exact moment, a little too vividly as his voice echoes in your memory.

“What! What?” Lucy’s eyes are attentive, never once leaving your face. But her hands follow another agenda, filling a shot glass to the brim, the clear liquid spilling a bit as she waits for your bomb to kaboom! In her face. This one’s looking exceptionally ghastly. She figures tequila could ease the impact.

“He asked me when I could start.” You finish.

“Wait, what? Come again?” She all but slams the bottle as she sets it back down on the kitchen counter.

“Yeah. I think it even took him by surprise. He went on to tell me that we could take a week of testing the waters before I signed the contract.” You tell her.

“The contract? Who are you babysitting? The next heir to the British throne?”

You laugh at this, “no. She’s cuter than any of those royal babies.” She smiles, downing the shot of tequila that she’d originally destined for you. You don’t need it. Neither does she but, oh well.

“And, Lucy… his assistant emailed me the contract, just in case I had something I wanted to negotiate,” you say, voice coming to a whisper.

“And?” She asks, confused.

“Think sleazy bar pay check,” she winces, “now double that.”

“Oh.”

“Now add one of those good months that I would get my work published and we could buy the fancy marmalade,” she nods in excitement, “now double that.”

“We’re RICH!” She screams, hands coming to hold yours as you both jump up and down to the beat of her movements.

“There’s only one problem,” you say, stilling.

“What?”

“His face…”

“What about it?”

“Picture an angel,” your gaze softens, she rolls her eyes.

“Yeah…”

“Picture the perfection,”

“I am, I am.” Lucy returns, eyes dreamy.

“Now double that.”

~

Jungkook enters his bathroom, mind busy with the weight of the day. Bed time went smoothly but he knows Soori will be up in two hours or so. He mentally prepares himself for another night of rocky sleep.

He reaches for his toothbrush, lathering a generous amount of toothpaste on top before letting the water run over it. He hates mundane tasks like these – his mind having to come to a halt, to fixate on the domestic. He thinks about Ira. He can’t help it. He pictures the routine they’d adapted for the past three years – imagines what she looked like brushing her teeth next to him. They’d stand next to each other in comfortable silence, aggressive silence and on really good days, mumbles between mouthfuls of toothpaste, talking about their days, his arm around her waist as he pinned her to the marble counter.

He can’t help but wonder where she is. If she’s well. If she cries at night when she turns off the lights the way he’s grown accustomed to since she left. He wonders if she misses Soori – her baby smell, the squish of her cheeks, the round of her eyes taking her in. She thinks about the fact she missed one of her milestones today – that satisfied hum when she enjoyed her mushy peas.

He wonders if she misses him, too.

He remembers the mess Soori had made during lunch, having to wash baby food off her hair afterwards. Ira would’ve rolled her eyes at the sight. She never liked it when she made a mess.

He wonders what she would think of you, of his decision to have you look after their baby.

He stops his train of thought.

His baby.

The realization exhausts him further and he heads to bed. He wonders when it’ll get easier. When it will stop hitting him in the face every time he lets his mind wonder in meaningless back and forth. He knows the answer to all of his previous questions – none of them are what he wants to hear.

He tugs his hoodie off with one hand, throwing it to the side before he gets under his covers. He sighs, a groan leaving his mouth at the feeling of the pillow against his head. His eyes close instinctively.

And then he thinks about you.

He’s spent a good portion of his day thinking about you, to be fair. The wellbeing of his daughter at the frontline of his thoughts, whether he made the right decision. He’d made up his mind pretty early into the interview and all it took was a happy baby enjoying mushy peas for him to break. He’s regretted his decision at least a dozen times today. But then during dinner time he mimicked your actions, an assortment of foods cut into small bites spread in front of Soori for her to explore. She was eating so fast he had to stop her twice and he got to hear her sweet little mmm a handful of times. That was enough for him to break again.

But as he nuzzles into his pillows his thoughts are not laced with parenting. He thinks about you. He doesn’t exactly follow the direction of his train of thought but he’s too tired to stop it.

He thinks of the words you so openly shared with him. He thinks of the way vulnerability took over your face in a way he’d never seen it shown so visibly in anyone before. He thinks about your yellow dress that all but startled him when he opened his front door, so bright you almost looked out of place. He tries to remember what you smelled like. He can’t put his finger on it. In fact, he doesn’t think he even focused on it long enough to remember. Honey, camelias, lavender, roses, wood- he stops himself. It’s a thought with a dead-end street. He finds no point in dwelling.

You were wearing high top converses.

Something about that makes way to his brain and he can’t quite explain it. Perhaps it’s an innocence he doesn’t interact with anymore. He thinks about twenty-three-year-old him – just as lost as you. He smiles but it’s unconscious as he slowly begins to succumb to a much-needed sleep. He thinks you look like a feeling buried down deep in his memory. He’s too tired to put a name to it but as his brain begins to shut down, his vulnerability comes afloat, cradling him. The feeling doesn’t have a name but it comes in a memory he’s not so sure it entirely belonged to him. Perhaps it’s a deep longing he stored inside his heart many years ago.

Salt water. The smell of Taehyung’s parents beach house. Sixteen. Slow days. A fight between innocence and desire. Infatuation masked by love. Promises of forever. Names that danced with his. Lemonade. His first sip of beer. Mrs. Kim’s lemon pie. An old beat-up jeep. Wind. Sand. Days so long they never truly eased into night. Sunrise escapades. The stars in the sky. And yellow. So much yellow.

~

If u made it this far can we talk about cute, soft, in-between-awake-and-asleep jk being all dreamy and reminiscing!!!! that was so hot of him. i truly hope you enjoyed – this story has been so fun to write so far and my mind is already working like rents due to whip out chapter three as fast as i can!! i, too, can’t wait for the sexy stuff, don’t worry. jk needs healing but its on its way!! hold on tight. also i will make it my purpose to get my girl lucy a match made in heaven for this fic bc she deserves the world. Thank u for reading and feel free to let me know what you thought of the chapter – i love talking to u guys. sending loads of love always!! xxxxx

STREAM PERMISSION TO DANCE IF U WANT DADDY JUNGKOOK TO FEEL BETTER OK he told me to tell u xx

wartime child

synopsis. raising a baby in wartime isn’t easy. but when your baby starts showing signs of magical abilities, you’re forced to ring up the only other person you know he takes after: jeon jungkook.

genre. loosely based of the harry potter universe. wizard au. dad au.

words. 12.1k

after story.

side story (myg)  | side story (kth)

feedback.

cross-posted on wattpad.

x

it must be five o’clock somewhere. that is, if there is a part of the world that isn’t shrouded with ash grey clouds and recurring thunder of the mighty zeus. you don’t know - nobody does - but something’s very wrong somewhere upstairs. the newscaster’s words in the background is too fast to catch. you pace back and forth, anxious, restless. until you realize the thudding sound couldn’t have come from you - couldn’t have come from human footsteps.

the door.

you peek through the hole, relief washing over you as soon as you see the lock of brownish hair.

“___, hi-” his greetings are cut short as you pull him in, slamming the door behind you and making sure each lock is secured.

“it’s starting,” you say, almost sounding mad if it wasn’t for the baby you gave birth to ten months ago upstairs, “the first time i noticed, he was on the floor instead of the crib. i thought maybe he just crawled out but then the second time, i know and you know how i know? mr. tubs was floating past me while i was changing his diaper, jungkook,” you pause, eyes widened like a mad man, “the cat was fucking floating!”

jungkook calls your name, the voice you would usually find soothing is now a dread than a relaxant. but then again, it was never the voice. it was-

“mommy!” your baby reaches out his pudgy hands as the nursery door swings open.

there’s a still pause as you wait for something to fly at you. or float past you. or your own baby start drifting in the air like a balloon. but nothing.

“i swear, he has it too, kook.” you hold your baby in your arms, glancing over the man as though begging for him to trust you. as if you’re the crazy one! can you believe it? you! two years ago, you were just a waitress of a diner downtown, trying to get by. if you could take it all back, if you could press a reverse button and turn down that handsome charmer that sat by the window, reading a book (except it wasn’t any ordinary book that you can get a soft copy of - it was a spell book) instead of being on his phones like anyone his age would be doing, you would in a heartbeat.

Keep reading

jungkook went back to his past self of when he was 15 years old 🥺 (trans cr. ryuminating)

to build a home | chapter one

pairing: Jungkook x reader. ceo!jk + dilf!jk x nanny!oc

genre: strangers to lovers. angst. loads of plot. eventual smut

word count: 6.8k (y’all need context okay)

warnings: oof. oof. buckle up. angst, loads of angst! (im sorry), touches on subjects such as: depression (hints), postpartum depression, abandonment, mild prescription medication talk, loads of jk crying :(, loads of crying baby :(, swearing

author’s note: hi! this is a very self-indulgent storyline that sort of came to me and I just had to put thought into paper. well, I ended up really liking the plot and my mind started going places and now it’s all I can think about. i do have to say it’s going to be a bit of a slow burn but! not like this chapter though – this chapter had to be informative to set the context. my mans jk did not suffer for nothing! i hope cute baby / loving dad jk made up for all the angst in this! also! It’s gonna get sexy, ~sexy so just u wait! also! I don’t have a set schedule but this story is coming to me in heavy bursts of inspiration so I might be whipping chapters left and right (cross ur fingers). also! (the last one, promise) I hate Ira too :)

This is a work of fiction. Please respect the members and their privacy. x

Chapter One

The digital clock on the console of his car marks six thirty pm on the dot. It makes Jungkook’s gaze shift to the sky – a synchronicity so perfect the sun begins to set right upon his eyes. Spring is easing into Summer and he can’t wait for the longer days and shorter nights the hot season bestows.

“We need one last look-over the contracts to finalize. I think the visit this weekend will finally see us wrapping this up. And then inauguration one month from now.” Seokjin’s voice fills the enclosed space of Jungkook’s car, a slight echo to his voice coming from the speakers.

“Sounds good, hyung. Good work.” He tells his cousin, right hand and the COO of his company.

“Hey, is Ira coming this weekend?” He asks. His question leaves Jungkook wondering. He assumes she will.

“Haven’t discussed it yet, could be good for her though. We can make a getaway of it.” He replies, head already swimming with ideas of how refreshing a family trip could be for the three of them.

“Alright, kid. Send my love.” Seokjin says, making him let out a light chuckle, before the line goes silent.

In the road ahead, the sun resumes its steady descend. His home comes to view at the very end of the street, the colours of the sky dancing against the sleek white walls. It’s been a long day and he’s tired. Now more than ever, with the inauguration of the new addition to his chain of hotels nearing, he craves the grounding feeling of being home – two familiar faces awaiting. One full of unconditional love.

He parks his cls next to hers, the sleek white shade contrasting against his black one. Grabbing his phone and keys from the cup holder, he exits the car, climbing the steps to his front door and inserting the code that unlocks it.

Home. He takes pride in the need he holds for it, how much he craves it, how much he wants to be the backbone of the one he built. The idea of family gets morphed when you’re brought into an immeasurable amount of wealth. His parents, although good intentioned, lacked the warmth he so badly wants to install in his own roots.

He wants his daughter to grow up in a house that doesn’t look like a showroom, a distinctive smell swarming its spaces, one she’ll hold in the back of her memory until she has kids of her own. Home, never lacking the coziness a touch of love can bring a space, no matter how vast. He wants her mother to be half of that love, more than anything. Because he wants that love for her, more than anything.

He heads upstairs, the house eerily quiet. It’s two hours to bed time and he assumes Ira is winding Soori down for the night.

He reaches the top of the stairs and begins walking down the long corridor, passing a room, then two, until he finally reaches Soori’s nursery. The door is wide open and as he steps in, he sees Ira standing in front of her crib, back to him, almost hovering. He sees Soori fast asleep, blanket covering her tiny body, pacifier moving gently to the in and out of her suckling, a tight grip on her favorite giraffe plushie on her chubby baby fist.

“Hey, beautiful.” He says to Ira, though she doesn’t move from the place he found her in. “Why is she asleep so early? Fun day?” He asks, voice filled with hope. He pictures the two of them by the warm sun, basking in the easiness of the season. They’ve been introducing Soori to the water – the idea of the two of them splashing in the big pool pulling his lips upwards in a soft smile.

It doesn’t linger, the smile. Ira turns around, a sombre look to her face, unable to hold his gaze for more than a second as she redirects her eyes to the floor.

“Jungkook…,” She begins, voice barely a whisper, but ever so stern.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” He asks, approaching her, instinctively resting his hands on her arms before they come up as she holds herself, bracing her front.

“I booked a job. In New York.” She says, eyes finally meeting his.

“Ahh! That’s great! That’s amazing, Ira.” Jungkook says, pulling her into a hug she doesn’t return. He knows how badly she’s been craving this. A breakthrough, a taste of independence – the power of knowing she could hold all titles whilst still being mom. “We can make a trip of it! We could all go.” He muses, excitement lacing his voice as he pulls away, eyes scanning for hers.

“It’s this weekend-” She begins, but his words bring hers to a halt.

“Ah, I have that business trip but hey, you take the plane, alright?” Jungkook knows how much Ira hates flying. Long haul flights doing a thing to her nerves that require a dose or two of her therapist’s strongest prescription drug. This all comes ironically, considering her title – It girl, world-renowned model, Ira Sommersmith.

“No, Jungkook. No.” She says, arms coming to rest at her sides, pushing his hold on them away as she takes one step back, creating distance between them. The action is loud to Jungkook, the emotional space between them being too much to bear for his heart and her actions breaking it all over again.

“Bab-” He stops himself, the pet name fresh on his tongue, remembering how she’s come to despise it as Jungkook began adapting it to Soori, too. “Ira.” He says, his voice a plead, a prayer. He doesn’t know what the prayer entails but he’ll start mentally chanting it, bracing himself for impact.

“I’m leaving, Jungkook. I need to- I need to go. For good.” Her voice lacks hesitation, no pause. He simply stares at her, dumbfounded, numb to the effect his body is taking, cold sweats breaking through him. “I’m sorry. This is- you play this role too well, Jungkook. I just can’t seem to follow the script.”

“It’s not a role.” Jungkook says, voice a whisper that makes his words hard to grasp to Ira, but she knows what he said. She knows he would say that. She takes him in, takes one last long look at his face before it breaks her. She’s not scared of backing down from her plan, she’s scared of seeing his eyes full of heart look into hers, a lack thereof.

And she can accept it. She can wholeheartedly confess she doesn’t have the heart it takes to become selfless, to give into the three that makes the whole – Jungkook’s line that he’s adapted to bring hope into the immense cloud of blue that fell upon her when it all became too real. When the idea of three became a reality one morning after he’d gone to work and she stared at the mirror, a bump bulging at the center of her otherwise lean physique. Her first thought wasn’t that of excitement but of confusion. It felt foreign and it took her aback so frantically she found herself calling her OB/GYN, voice shaky as she repeated, “it came out of nowhere, I just- I wasn’t showing yesterday…” Her panic was received by a faint laugh on the other line, reassuring her pregnancy had no fixed agenda and that her “little one” had decided to make him or herself known. She waited for the doctor’s words to hit, for the excitement to follow, but it didn’t. What truly broke her came next as the doctor took her silence for something else and ended her discourse with a, “surprise, mama!”

Ira brought her phone down, staring at the screen before abruptly hanging up. She’d hope the doctor would blame it on poor connection.

She went about her day in autopilot, waiting. Waiting for the new curvature her body was taking on to simply be an add on in the sea of hopes that her pregnancy had brought until that very morning. But it never came. It never came, and the tears that would stream down her face late at night when the world slept and the darkness accepted her thoughts as they came, weren’t due to the impatience of her heart longing to love the life she was forming inside of her. They came out of fear it would.

Ira’s heart wasn’t fragile. Quite the opposite – it lacked the fragility it requires to love unconditionally.

When Soori came into the world, she made her entrance kicking and screaming. Ira understood; the overwhelm of the space was getting to her, too. At least on that they could agree. Her wails filled the room and muffled her hearing, everything in slow motion as shock set upon her. The pain between her legs from delivering her minutes prior subsided as numbness took over. She could hear her cries nearing and she finally came out of her trance the moment the nurse placed Soori on top of her chest. She looked down at her, arms coming up to hold her tiny frame in place. And when she did, dense silence filled the room as she found comfort in her mother’s arms and her cries came to a rest, opening her eyes for the first time. Ira looked down once again and understood the meaning of unconditional love. Soori was warm against her and that’s when she knew she’d never be able to reciprocate said love. Cold shivers ran down every corner of her body, settling into her heart. She understood it, but she couldn’t feel it.

“I’m sorry,” she says again, “I tried.” The last words fade away as she turns around, taking one last look at her daughter, a part of her tries again, focusing on the heartstrings of her soul, waiting for the pull. Nothing comes and she closes her eyes, breathing in, knowing that'd be the last time she'd take in her daughter. She turns around, looking at Jungkook for a split second. He’s frozen in place, gaze lost, fixated on the pastel pink wall in front of him, unable to look at her. “Goodbye, Jungkook. You-,” she can’t tell if he’s listening but she finishes anyway, “you were good to me. Okay? You-,” she needs to get out of there, now. “Goodbye.” And with that, she leaves. Past the door of the nursery, not a beat behind, without second guessing. She leaves and doesn’t turn back to witness Jungkook’s world coming to a slow, quiet shatter. The sort of silence that settles into your bones uncomfortably.

His world stops and, in the numbness, he becomes hyperaware of his senses. He doesn’t miss her steps down the corridor and back, the sound of wheels against the floor distinct this time, down the stairs and finally, he hears the front door close.

Soori stirs behind him, a faint whine leaving her mouth as she begins to wake up.

~

Jungkook’s legs feel heavy, glued to the floor, and his eyes haven’t left that spot on the wall they fixated in when he realized that watching Ira leave would make it all that more painful. And so, he stands there, mind empty yet hazy with incoherent thoughts he can’t puzzle together. An ominous cloud fills the space as the sun finally sets and the room goes dark around him. For a minute, Jungkook basks in a thought surprisingly comforting: the worst thing has already happened. It takes him in and cradles him as he goes with that narrative.

It doesn’t last long. Soori’s cries from behind him sound distant, faint, for the briefest of seconds before they fully snap Jungkook out of his trance. His baby. He turns around and sees her little figure propped up against the bars of her crib, looking up at him, pacifier hanging from the string that attaches it to her sleeping gown. Her eyes are red and glassy with tears and he wonders for how long she’s been crying.

“Hey, hey…,” his voice is gentle, a soft coo as he reaches for Soori, flushing his chest to hers once he has her in his arms. His free hand coming up to cradle her head as he softly sways back and forth, “it’s okay, baby. I’m here… I’m here.”

Her crying comes to a halt but she fusses in his arms, little whines escaping her mouth as Jungkook settles into the rhythm he knows she finds soothing. It’s then that it dawns upon him – his brief encounter with comfort was a lie his brain told his heart. Delusion a form of survival. His hold on Soori’s head tightens a bit, almost as if to ease the impact his thoughts might have on her. The worst is yet to come. His tears fall freely now, fear and uncertainty tugging at his chest in a way that takes him aback with how physically painful it is. His hands shake and his legs feel weak, like they won’t be able to hold him, or the burden that settles through him for much longer.

He gives in before they give out, slowly lowering his legs as they cross until he can finally feel the soft fabric of the carpet underneath him. Soori’s tears release yet again the moment the swaying stops, the new position on the floor in her father’s arms making her even more restless. He holds her, whispering a string of sorry, sorry, sorry against her ear as he brings her soft cheek flush to his until their tears form an even stream of droplets falling down their faces, settling uncomfortably on their necks.

He loses track of time and he can feel, ever so distinctively, as his spirit weakens by the minute. Mind still in that haze that makes it hard to distinguish between an empty mind and a racing one. He can’t find the words and as soon as his worries fixate on one thing in particular, he swerves around it. Not really letting his brain linger on just one to nit-pick, instead preferring the overwhelm of them all combined, thrown at him together. He rather not know what exactly scares him the most about this situation.

Usually enticed by challenge, this one finds him unwilling. He wants nothing more than to lower his whole body to the floor, hold his baby and close his heavy lids until he falls into a deep slumber. But he knows he can’t. Soori can’t stay still. Soori crawls. Soori is small but mighty and it would take her a matter of minutes to find her way to the stairs. Soori’s cries bounce on the walls, getting louder and louder. He wonders if she had her night bottle. Soori nibbles on her hand the way she’s come to do as she teethes, face scrunched up in discomfort. Soori needs him.

Soori came into the world kicking and screaming and with a healthy shade of pink adorning her tiny body that finally made Jungkook release the breath he’d been holding from the moment he could see her head from his position next to Ira as he held her hand. His first thought was how small she was, he couldn’t shake the fear of having her in his arms, wondering if she’d fit just right. Her cries restored something inside of him he’d long lost when he was very young and the harshness of the world tumbled down upon him, stripping him of an innocence he knew he’d want his daughter to carry for as long as she could. The overwhelm in his heart when he cut her umbilical chord was the sweetest he’d experience; and when she was finally placed in her mother’s chest and he could allow the world to slow down around him to take in his daughter for the first time, he made an unspoken vow. Love would always be stronger. Hope would always prevail. As long as she needed him, those two would be the root of his every action. Strength found its way to a corner of his heart that was growing by the second the more he stared at Soori. He’d take on the bravery of the world so as to make hers softer. And he’d love her in all of his lives.

He gets up, body feeling lethargic but adjusting his grip on his daughter’s body, putting his whole consciousness there. He doesn’t trust his limbs.

“Are you hungry, baby?” He asks her. It’s rhetoric, for various reasons. “Yeah, you are.” He says, even though he’s not sure. He begins the trip towards the kitchen, forcing a mental strain to go about his every step. To wrap around his every thought. To figure out where to go from here.

He reaches the bottom of the stairs, stopping by the living room first to lay her gently on the couch before removing her sleeping gown, setting her free from the restraints and letting her legs kick at him. Her demeanour changed and when he stares into her eyes, slightly envious of how her tears have seemed to dry, she smiles at him. It’s a wide grin that flashes him her two little bottom teeth that are beginning to come through and his heart melts at the sight. His heart hurts but she nurses the wound slowly and he can’t help but smile back at her. It takes him aback at times – how in nine short months he’s come to grow so enamoured with this fun-sized version of a human that demands so much time, attention and energy from him. But it’s moments like these, when she shines light into his dark corners with just a smile, that he understands. She holds more power in her two peeking bottom teeth than half of the things Jungkook thought gave him purpose nine months ago when she made her entrance into the world. Kicking and screaming and pink.

He cradles her in his arms once again as he stands up and positions her to rest at his waist. She instinctively grabs his ear – another one of the habits she’d picked up recently. Jungkook likes knowing he’s able to soothe her, almost mindlessly. Something catches his eye and he recognizes it immediately. Ira’s phone, resting on top of the coffee table. He leans, tapping the screen until it flashes back at him. Her wallpaper is a picture of her and Jungkook, taken three years prior, at the beginning of their relationship. Their happy faces stare back at him – mocking him. He scoffs. Nothing’s funny but he’s laughing because he can’t allow himself a fit of anger right now. And crying sounds too exhausting, his eyes too tired.

It hits him again, not that he needed much confirmation. It hits him that she’s not looking back. It hits him that she left with every intention to not spare them a second glance. It hit him that wherever she is, their realities are so different now. The moment she walked out that door she left nothing and everything that mattered behind. She freed herself from her role and walked steadily into the direction of whatever she deems as freedom. Ira was never one to ease into things. It used to be something that excited him. He looked at her and at times his brain painted flames of fiery orange seeping through her. Bold, confident – fearless.

He stands in front of the kitchen counter, one handing the process of making Soori’s bottle. Eyes lost, not really following the formula as it goes inside the bottle, the water – its temperature. Too hot? No, too cold. He puts it inside the bottle warmer, pushes the button and waits. He asks himself if he’s surprised or just heart broken. Mentally, he shakes the Jungkook from two hours ago and asks him, “did you not see it coming? Were you trying or were you lying to yourself?” The conclusion he draws feels like not enough. He saw it coming, yes. For over a year now he’s felt like the path he’s been walking went from eggshells to shattered glass – unavoidable, painful, way too fucking loud. So, he knew. He knew his feet would give out. He knew she was going to cut through all of him one day. Yet as much knowledge as he held when it came to his situation, he could’ve never seen this coming. He’d imagine their impending doom hitting him in the face eventually. They weren’t married, she could just leave at any moment. She could leave him at any moment. He’d set her free and he’d still give Soori a home, doubled in love to make up for her parent’s distance and the back and forth she’d have to endure. He would’ve tried. More couple’s therapy, individual counselling, all the help he could muster to get from friends and family. Trips to bond, trips to escape. He did all that and he would’ve done more. Because he loved her. He loves her.

He’s not sure when their love became mechanical, a form of habit. Disappointment tends to do that to people, he reckons. But he still did love her and he tried. Not just because of Soori but because of Ira, too. And because of them. Not the three, but the two they used to be. The same two that rest on top of his coffee table, trapped inside a memory forever, unaware of the future ahead but so hopeful. He loved the love they had and so for that reason, he loved her.

The bottle warmer beeps and he takes it out of the sleek looking machine. Soori bounces in his hold, excited. “Come on, missy. Let’s have dinner.” He tells her and she throws some unintelligible baby noises at him.

He heads back to the living room and sits them down on the couch. He props Soori against a pillow and feeds her the bottle. What are we going to do, he thinks, but brushes the thought away. This weight falls on his shoulders and he makes yet another unspoken vow as he stares down at her. He promises her a soft impact, painless whenever it can. He promises to hold her and coax her through it, to ease the burden and to explain with lullabies when the time is right. He stares at her until her eyes flutter, beginning a sleepy dance as she fights to stay awake, holding her feet in her small hands. A silent tear falls down his eyes and that’s the last sight, slightly blurry because of her long eyelashes, between her heavy lids before she falls into a peaceful slumber.

~

He paces around the living room. He paces the way he does when ideas are brewing inside his head at work – new locations, new investors, new partnerships. Ideas, ideas, ideas. He’s good at coming up with them. He’s good at quick solutions to whatever problem might arise – it’s what made his father ease so effortlessly into an early retirement after teaching Jungkook the ins and outs of the so-called empire he now calls his.

Soori sleeps on the couch. The pillow she’d been propped up in now besides her, building a barrier between her body and the soft cushions. He knows she’d be off better in her crib but the idea terrified him, made him feel alone.

Ideas, ideas, ideas yet he can’t come up with a single one. A part of him tells him there’s not much left to do. It tells him that it’s been done. That it’s time to move on with his life, with their lives. But the mere idea of taking the leap – of moving on, finds him scared, confused and shatters him more and more. It also reminds him of the way she so casually walked out, like it didn’t matter. She set flame to the fire and didn’t even linger around long enough to watch it burn. It angers him, her carelessness. He’s not like that, never has been, and he’s not going to start now. He knows forcing himself to move on will only repercuss in him breaking even further in the long run. So, his first idea is to face the reality. But he can’t right now, he feels too alone, too small. He has to push his heroic persona aside and admit defeat. And so he does.

His second idea finds him seeking comfort. He can’t be comfort to Soori if he’s just breaking. He knows he’s going to break; he knows this is just the beginning, but he needs there to be more to it. He retrieves his phone from his back pocket, inhaling loudly as he unlocks it. He needs a friend. He has a couple, another thing he takes pride in, but he knows this situation is way too sensitive. He thinks of Seokjin, his contact the most recent call on his phone, but he quickly diverts. Suelgi, his wife, had grown rather fond of Ira and in a way, she’d become her confidant amidst the whirlwind that was motherhood. He doesn’t feel like delivering news that will require him comforting someone else to that extent – he can barely comfort himself, let alone his friend.

His eyes find Taehyung’s name on the screen, also a recent contact on his call history. Yes, good – this is good. Taehyung is good. Him and Mai have been a constant in Jungkook’s life for as long as he can remember. He’s seen them go from high school sweethearts to a painful college breakup that luckily ended up in them finding their way back to each other. It took Taehyung approximately 37 days to ask her to marry him. He’d never seen two people sport a last name with more pride – The Kims. Nowadays they also go by mom and dad. They’re Soori’s godparents and Jungkook’s best friends. He taps on his contact and the first ring against his ear sounds obnoxiously loud. His head pounds against his skull.

“Yo, you’re on speaker phone!” Taehyung’s voice, enthusiastic as always, fills the speakers. Jungkook stays quiet.

“Ggukie, we were just about to call you!” It’s Mai’s voice on the phone now. “Dae is down for the night and we just popped open that bottle of Don Julio 1942 Tae got after the inauguration of the gallery. He had an early mid-life crisis after Monsters Inc had him shedding tears before bedtime.” Jungkook can hear Taehyung’s gasp of offense at his wife’s confession somewhere in the background. He’s unable to make a sound as Mai continues. “He’s insisting we do something crazy to ‘feel young again’ so shots on a Wednesday it is!” she mocks.

“I…,” Jungkook begins – but where does he even start?

Taehyung grabs the phone from Mai, “come on, tell Irie. Soo can sleep in Dae’s old bassinet.”

“Ira’s gone.” He blurts out. It’s abrupt and probably not the best way to break the news but the pet name breaks him and he doesn’t think he can stay in their bliss for a second longer.

“Gone where?” Taehyung asks innocently and even though his question makes Jungkook’s temple throb in pain he doesn’t pin it against him.

But silence is all he can offer.

“Oh…,” Mai starts – intuitive as ever. Her voice is soft, and already Jungkook releases a bit of tension in his shoulders, knowing she understood. “Oh, Gguk…”

“I just-”

“Come over, Gguk. Or we can go – as you wish. Just say the words.” Mai comforts.

“No, I’ll go. I need to get out of here.” And those are the surest words that leave his mouth that night.

~

He’s gentle with Soori as he straps her into her car seat. She’s a heavy sleeper, just like him, but he still holds his breath as he settles her down and gets her ready for the road. He double checks the diaper bag and when everything ticks off his mental list he heads for the driver’s seat.

Soori sleeps and he tries to focus on the road and just the road. No music on the stereo. Just full focus on what he can see from his windshield as he takes turns on the wide streets of his neighbourhood and mental turns in his head, swerving all the painful thoughts away.

The quiet lasts maybe a total of three minutes before Soori’s wide awake and back to inconsolable crying. She’s not a whiny baby – her demeanour often praised for being so peaceful, big eyes taking in the world around her as she graces it with her softness. But she’s been in and out of sleep, out of schedule, and Jungkook knows she misses Ira.

Because when Ira said she tried, she wasn’t lying. She tried, she did. She breastfed until it was physically painful. She did the exhausting night feeds right alongside Jungkook and then what felt like ten years with no rest as Soori was sleep training. She gave her baths, took her to Thursday brunch with her friends, read her books before bedtime. When they took weekend trips to get away from routine, Ira got this aura about her – something bordering on happiness that she carried so effortlessly. It would leave Jungkook hopeful – but his hopes would crash the moment they settled back home. Her therapists’ suggestions for bonding with Soori all made sense to Ira. In fact, they were so good she almost believed them. Sometimes they would have long days in the sun, fun family gatherings where the affection Jungkook’s parents would give Soori would fill her with something that almost felt like pride. They would sit in the grass of their big garden and watch her play with his family dog and a glimpse of hope would knock on the closed doors of her heart. Those days felt so good, but the sun eventually set and the air would feel sombre again as they drove back to their house. Totheir lives. Deep within, Ira wished she could enjoy the day without having to take it back home with her.

The love Ira gave Soori was also mechanical. But Soori didn’t know better – all she saw was love. And warmth. And the smell of her mom’s clothes as she rocked her to sleep. The sound of her voice as she begged her to, ‘please be good. Please don’t cry. I can’t take it anymore,’ when Jungkook would leave and she’d have a whole day ahead of a life that felt like a chore. All Soori heard was lullabies because she doesn’t know better.

“We’re almost there, baby. Shh, Soo. You’re alright, pretty girl.” He says, but he doesn’t think she can hear him with how loudly she’s crying.

Soori misses her mom.

Jungkook cries, too. And, taking advantage of her high-pitched mewls that fill the confined space, he sobs too.

~

Jungkook parks behind Taehyung’s car in their driveway. He grips the steering wheel, afraid the moment his friends take them in it will all become too real. He sits there – Soori’s cries less sporadic this time, almost like she gave up on getting her father’s attention. He opens his door, welcoming the soft breeze inside his car for a brief moment before he’s closing it and heading towards the backseat.

Mai had been standing next to her window for the past fifteen minutes. Heir brain had been running around in circles, wondering how exactly things escalated, how they got to this point. She fears for her friend’s sanity, knowing Jungkook had been walking a thin line for as long as her memory remembers her very own excitement over Soori’s prompt arrival.

She sees his car drive in front of her house, taking a swift turn until he’s finally parked in her driveway. She can’t see much but she can paint a mental picture of Jungkook just sitting there, lost – an expression she’s seen him adapt more and more lately. She perks up at the sight of him but her face falls into a frown the minute she sees him walk back to the backseat.

“What-?” she whispers to herself. “Tae, Gguk is here. With… Soori,” she says, watching her little head come out of the backseat of his car.

“Soori?” Taehyung asks, confusion lacing his voice, a frown adorning his face.

Mai walks quickly to the front door, opening it before Jungkook reaches it. His eyes meet hers and he sighs. He notices her eyes fixated on Soori, who’s own are red and swollen from crying, whimpers still leaving her lips. Her breath is erratic and Jungkook feels her little body jolt as she begins to let out another cry. Mai’s confused expression lets Jungkook know that of course, his friends were expecting Ira to leave him. They were expecting Soori to leave him, too, by pure default. That’s just how the narrative usually unfolds, doesn’t it?

But the narrative isn’t catering to Jungkook’s best interests. Their narrative is far from what you would consider normal.

“Come in, Gguk. What-,” she begins, but opts not to bombard him with the hard questions right away. “Come in.”

Taehyung immediately reaches for Soori who falls into his arms seamlessly. “Hey, princess. Hey, you’re alright Soori girl. Come here.” He coos and she begins to soften at his voice, “that’s a big girl. Stop growing up.” He tells her, his last request a whisper, as he brings her cheek to his, holding her in embrace – comforting her.

Jungkook steps inside their home, its warmth embracing him immediately and he’s glad he came here.

Taehyung and Mai got an unexpected influx of money before Dae was born. The gallery they’d been running attracting a different sort of crowd all of a sudden. The curiosity and modernity of the curation they’d put their hearts and souls (and savings) into attracting a crowd of curious yet wealthy collectors, investors and sole lovers of the craft. One turned into two galleries, then three and now recently, four. They amount their success to the faith of the people, the artists and the consumers and the ones that were simply driven by the passion for it. Mai was seven months pregnant when they upgraded from their small one-bedroom apartment to their four-bedroom, white picket fenced home. The very first materialization of that first taste of big-time money.

The first words she let out when she stepped inside were, “I can’t wait for toys to litter these shiny floors.” And litter them they did, giving it a feel of family Jungkook admired and promised himself his own wouldn’t lack. Ira hated clutter though.

“Let’s sit down, okay?” Mai says calmly, holding onto his arm. His steps are a bit hesitant and wobbly – if she didn’t know better, she’d think he was drunk.

“Okay.” He returns.

Taehyung follows behind him, a quiet Soori nuzzled against his shoulder, breath fanning the crook of his neck that grows steadier within the second. Now more than ever, Jungkook is grateful for the soothing effect he has on her.

He sits down, Mai occupying the spot besides him. Taehyung stays positioned on his feet before them, gently swaying Soori from side to side as her body grows limp, temping sleep.

His head comes forward, gaze fixated on his shoes. He breaks. “She left us. She just… left. Said she’d booked a job in New York. I thought she’d be gone for a week at most. But then she said she’d be gone for good. She,” his words get stuck in his throat, pain unleashing inside of him all over again at the fresh memories, “said she tried. Took one last look at Soori and then just… left.”

As soon as his recollection of the story comes to an end, he realizes just how short it was. His life came to an abrupt stop and then took a 180 degree turn in the span of what Jungkook deems to have been five minutes.

He never wants to utter the words she said again.

He’s crying and Taehyung wants nothing more than to hold him, let him know that it will all be okay. But he’s finding it hard to believe it himself, so he leaves the words of comfort to Mai. His arms instinctively wrap tighter around Soori – heart breaking at the realization she’d been abandoned, too.

“Come here,” Mai says, wrapping her arm around him and letting him cry, head against her shoulder, his own shaking as silent tears spill from his eyes.

“Do you think she’ll come back, Gguk?” Taehyung asks, even though he knows the answer. He’s always found it easier to console after knowing the facts, not believing in the whole ignorance is bliss bullshit.

He shakes his head. His voice is quiet when he says, “No. She left her phone behind, her half of the closet was empty. I’m not even sure it’s New York where she was headed.”

Mai shakes her head in disbelief. Her motherly instincts take on flight or fight mode as she tries to grasp just how someone could do something like that.

“Okay…,” Taehyung begins, sitting down next to him. “Listen to me,” but Jungkook’s gaze is still transfixed to the floor. “Jungkook-ah.”

“Huh?” He says, voice distant, eyes still lost.

“We’ll figure it out. Okay? You and Soori- you’re not alone. We’re here and we’ll figure it out. You’ve got us, the both of you.” Jungkook nods at his friends’ words. Taehyung rests his head on top of his shoulder. He’s grateful for his reassurance, even if he doesn’t fully believe it.

They don’t press on any further, well aware this is not the time to dissect the situation. He lets Mai pull him to his feet. She asks him a couple of questions that he can’t fully follow so he shakes his head at every single one of them. With Soori asleep in Taehyung’s arms, he lets himself disassociate.

He follows Mai up the stairs, Taehyung right behind them. He doesn’t complain when the darkness of their guest bedroom impairs his sight slightly, finding comfort in its density. The feel of the bed against his aching body lulls him into something that almost feels like peace – senses calming down slightly, as if telling him the day has finally come to an end.

Taehyung is detaching Soori from his body, lowering her down towards the bassinet besides the bed. Jungkook jumps from his resting position in the bed, startling Mai who tries holding him back instinctively.

“No. Put her here. She- she needs to sleep with me, she-” His voice is frantic.

“It’s okay, Gguk. Look, she’s here.” Taehyung places her in the bed next to her father who follows the baby’s movement as his own head hits the mattress.

Mai builds a makeshift fort of pillows that surround Soori’s tiny frame, stacking one on top of the other for good measure. She makes a mental note to check up on her throughout the night.

“Baby monitor. Just in case he doesn’t wake up.” Taehyung says, placing one of the devices in the bedside table.

“Tae,” Mai starts but she doesn’t really know where the sentence was going. Shock settles upon her.

“I know.” He says.

“Fuck, Tae. What is he-,” Mai makes sure to hear for Jungkook’s soft snores before she finishes, “Soori’s only nine months old. How could she just leave?”

Taehyung wraps his arm around Mai, bringing her close to his chest as the same fear she’s feeling begins taking over him, too. He shakes his head. “I don’t know, baby. I- we’ll figure something out. It’ll be alright.”

Soori twitches in place, letting out a loud sigh that has Mai sure will be followed by another restless string of sobs. But Jungkook places his hand on her tummy, eyes still closed, gently rocking her as he lets out a soft coo, something so faint they can’t quite make up his words. But his daughter relaxes against his touch, falling back into a peaceful sleep.

Fear plagues him but Taehyung is sure of the words that fall past his lips next.

“They’ll be alright.”

~------------~

i hope you enjoyed! stream butter to mend those hearts if you’re hurting as much as me over this mess! if you liked this I would love to know and to chat all about it – or about whatever u want, i want army friends :) lots of kisses!!!! xxxxxx

Date in a Box

Words: 9.7k Genre: Fluff. So much fluff. 

Read more at Service Series

He called and you came running.

Knock Knock.

The door swings open; a boy dressed in a white shirt, blue jeans and timberlands greets you with frightened doe-eyes. “Are you-”

“Yes I am.” You push your way in, not having enough time to slip off your shoes politely. You take one quick scan of his apartment. “How much time do we have?”

“She’s coming in five minutes.” He says in alarm, scrambling to look at the clock.

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twenty-four.

Pairing: Jeon Jeongguk / Reader.

Genre: Parents AU with too much fluff.

Count: 1,059 words.

The morning invades the bedroom through the window pane, basking all that lays within in a shade of gold that melts the furniture to be indecipherable from the floorboards, limbs becoming one with the crisp white bed sheets. Everything moulds into a sole conglomeration of yellow in the blur of your lethargic vision, still waking, opening to another new day, a twenty-four hours of the kind of repetition that you adore. Live for. You rub the heels of your palms into your eyes, ridding of the sleep that still remains tucked and cosy within the corners, the haze eventually clearing to find your own corneas staring back at you in a face of four.

The tiny bird wriggles, speaks. “Morning, Mama.”

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