Wait A Minute JEON JUNGKOOK. I- Ajjasgsjakshsjsksksj

So beautiful. A fresh read. Second chance romances are also one of my very favourite troops. Love your writings always ❤️❤️

everyone has done a handful of questionable things in the past, and jungkook was no exception. now, if the questionable thing was going to a past lover's place while pretty drunk, one would probably say 'that was stupid of you' but it really isn't uncalled for. (it happens way more than people give credit for.)

the only catch to this scenario? it was happening right about two seconds ago.

it was messy, he was a mess, this whole situation was messed up. he knew he shouldn't have lingered so long around you at the new years party for work, but he couldn't help it. (the drinks were unlimited and the food was divine, but the way the lights descended on you was a sight for sore eyes. he knew he couldn't stay away, not when you looked like that.) (he wasn't being a creep though.) (oh god, please tell him he wasn't being a creep--)

you were too kind to leave him alone and three-quarters absolutely plastered at the bar, but you were awkward about it. the last time this similar experience happened, both of you were drunk and intertwined together; lovestruck idiots that were the type to make out in front of everyone. the only way to separate you two was when your friends made disgusted faux-vomiting sounds in order to break up the session with laughter, ubers already waiting outside.

so that was how jungkook found himself in the same apartment he half-shared with you nearly three years ago, barely aware that this was real life until you caught him before he tripped over himself. you propped him up so he was leaning on the adjacent wall like a broken ladder, making sure to ask him thrice if he could support himself when you take off your coat and shoes. you helped him with his before guiding him to your living room, plopping him down onto your couch with a heavy huff.

"hey," you murmured, sitting down beside him and patting his chest. his eyes fluttered open, head sloshing to the side to meet your gaze. you were in awe at how his eyes still held the entire universe within them, ever curious and always searching - but you had to clear your throat and look away when you registered familiar affection there too. "how are you feeling? do you need some water?"

"m'good," he mumbled back a reply, a hiccup echoing out right after. you laughed softly as you looked back at him, his face peaceful as he closed his eyes and let himself slide his body towards yours. "m'good, just a little nap will do..." a sigh passed your lips when his body went slack immediately, his ability to sleep pretty much anywhere still going strong. with every fiber of your being telling you otherwise, you couldn't help reaching up to brush the strands of hair out of his eyes.

jungkook jerked awake about forty minutes later, a disoriented groan sounding out when his vision swam a little as he got his vertigo under control. when his surroundings started to clear up and register, a pang of dread hit his chest as he replayed the night's events and tried to add up how he got back here. but with alcohol still in his system, his head only answered back with throbs of pain. he didn't even hear your footsteps shuffling towards him from the kitchen, or that you were in the kitchen the entire time and witnessed him wake up in such a tipsy frenzy. (you had to cover your mouth so your laugh wouldn't trickle out at the sight.)

"here. this might help," you said, holding up a large glass of ice water. jungkook gingerly took it off your hands, eyes downcast as he muttered a thank you. you let him know he could take a shower if he was up for it and that you left out an extra toothbrush for him to have, which he accepted both with wary gratitude.

sobered up and increasingly aware of where he was (how he used to and still does know this place like the back of his hand), he came out of the bathroom toweling his hair dry to find you at your kitchen island, seated on a stool with your back to him. a part of him he thought he had buried long after the break up etched back into the edges of his heart; countless memories of being able to hold you from behind and press a kiss to your right temple.

he shook his head of the haunting images, before clearing his throat and alerting you that he was done. you turned around and flashed a small smile, one that didn't reach your eyes like it used to. it stung a little. "would you like some tea or anything?"

"no, no, that's okay. you've been nothing but kind to me when i was being a prick and crashed here, drunk and everything. i'm sorry - i'll get out of here so you can get to bed. how much was the uber--?"

"jungkook, it's already three in the morning," you frowned now, and it took everything in his power not to reach out and brush it away with his thumb like he used to. his hands physically ached and he cursed himself quietly for always replaying those chapters of his life with you on his spare time. "you can stay, i don't really mind. we can figure out the uber things later, it's no big deal. the couch is all yours to sleep on. the spare pillows and blankets--"

"are underneath, in the storage drawers." he finished quietly.

you blinked, mouth still open from speaking. jungkook feared the worst that he finally blew it, making it incredibly awkward for the fact that exes were in the same place at the same time, in a situation that compromises personal space and conflicting emotions. (at least for him.) but much to his surprise, and your own, you let out a genuine chuckle; small and fond. "yeah. exactly there. so, please, stay the night just so it's safer. you can leave any time you wish - it's the weekend anyway."

and with that, he found himself saying goodnight to you as you stalled a bit by the lightswitch to the living room, eyes portraying something he couldn't quite read fully. before he could ask you if something was wrong, you smiled softly and shook your head almost to yourself; as if you could hear the question coming from him. his heart both grew and cracked a little in his chest at the sight as the world went dark around him.

"goodnight, jungkook. sleep well."

pov : husband!jungkook deems it okay to unbutton his shirt like this in front of your virgin eyes

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

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!!!🤫

Wow it was such a beautiful story. Full of so much emotions and feelings. Beautifully written. Loved it 💜💜💜

how long will we fall

pairing: jungkook x reader

wordcount: 14k

glimpse: if it’s fate, it should already be set onto your skin — that’s why jungkook’s initials are already on your finger. he’s always there for you, but not only for you. if you’re his fate, he’d rather not have it.

alternatively, jungkook’s your soulmate, but he doesn’t want to be.

[ soulmate au, painful f2l, unrequited love (at first), a lot of angst, more fluff n wholesome moments, emotional constipation, yearning, jealousy, swearing, reverse cards that make u cheer, redemption arc, i swear to u that this does not hurt as much as heartburn did ]

notes: i'm back with a big fic!!! :D this was originally supposed to be named something else but i realized that the title was Too Serious and u know what,,, ten listens later as i write this, i realized that i'm obsessed with this song that i received from this ask and wow thank u so much anon <33 although the rec isn't originally for this fic, it fits perfectly and i can't thank u enough <33

as always, lmk what you think <3 send in feedback n love to my askbox anytime!! even replying to this post sends me over the moon :)

There will never be another Jeon Jungkook in this world — that much you're sure of.

You're sure of it because it feels as if it's a universal truth. An irrevocable and irreversible one that you don't bother verifying because Jungkook carries his presence with finality, obvious that he carries security within himself the most.

If he were to slip away from your grasp for any reason beneath or beyond you, you’d know that he leave a vacuum in his wake. Jungkook isn’t yours for you to lose, but he is yours for you to long for.

You know this because Jungkook is the type of beauty you won't ever grow used to despite spending years, with him and around him. You're both seniors in college and yet you don't feel like it, despite being born just a couple months earlier than him (therefore older) which irks him to this day. You don't feel like it because his presence alone makes you feel like you're in elementary figuring out your heart flutters from square one.

If he were to star in a show, he’d be the mainstay character everyone fawns over. He would be the one to stay in the biggest trailer, have the most doting team, and have the brightest lights on him. If Jungkook was a star, he’d rake in all the money by himself.

If Jungkook were to to be yours, you’d never want for anything more.

“Are you seriously — don’t sleep on me!”

Jungkook’s voice is the first thing that snaps you out of your reverie, reminding you once again that you think of him even if he’s already in your presence, an endearingly-type of new low for you.

“I wasn’t sleeping on you,” you snort with a defensive cross of your arms across your chest, the prospect of rest making you yawn in suppression with your mouth closed, eyes tearing up and your nostrils flaring instead.

“Yeah but you were zoning out on me,” he sing-songs in faux irritation, twirling on his chair with an accusing point of his finger, “and that means I have two minutes left to talk to you before you fall asleep.”

The only reason you’re awake is because Jungkook practically begged to keep you up as emotional (and actual) support for the entirety of the assignments he’s been cramming.

You share a spacious dorm and yet the two of you are cooped up in his room because his mind would overload if he’s in someplace else, eyes surely gonna shake if he were to write essays on the coffee table in the living room or at the bar stool in the kitchen.

“What do you need me for now?”

Need.

It’s nice being needed.

It’s nice being needed that despite Jungkook’s initials on your ring finger that tied him to you as your soulmate, and his unawareness of it, Jungkook needs you.

The initials on one’s left ring finger develops over time. Some take mere years after their birth while others take decades. Starts off faint until they become clear red letters right on your vena amoris, inked on the skin above the vein that’s closest to your heart.

It gets fully-developed when it’s fully-realized. Having Jungkook’s bright and clear on your finger didn’t necessarily mean your initials reflect the same condition on his.

It was personal preference, really — whether or not you choose to cover up the soulmate mark or not. You’ve always chosen to cover your finger up with a ring because you didn’t want to freak your best friend ever since childhood that simply put, the two of you are soulmates.

Jungkook, just like you, chooses to wear a ring. In fact, he even wears the same one that you do because he argues that even if you’ve bought the silver signet ring first with the money you’ve saved up for years (it wasn’t cheap at all), he thought about it first.

That’s where the connection ends; only goes so far for the two of you to have matching rings to cover up your soulmate marks.

Jungkook, adamantly and stubbornly since the start, doesn’t like looking at his ring finger.

Even before there were faint outlines of ink, too vague for it to resemble your initials, eight-year old Jungkook would start having things around his particular digit, whether it’s a two-day old ring pop he leaves in the fridge or a piece of yarn that accidentally almost cuts off his blood circulation.

You remember Mrs. Jeon sheepishly explaining to curious onlookers whenever both of your families would go out for trips and that out of the two youngest members of their entourage, the handsome child with the wide eyes would have some sort of cover on his ring finger at an early age, be it an oven mitten or a headband scrunched up.

“I like not knowing who’s apparently meant for me.”

You’ve asked him multiple times throughout your life, all for Jungkook to be consistent and give you the same answer every time.

The same answer when you were kids as you repetitively flicked the tip of his ring finger with your eyes closed as instructed by him, in panic to make him feel something because he’s covered his mark with yet another ribbon too tightly, and in respect because even he himself didn’t want to see the ink.

The same answer when you were teenagers and you’re getting Christmas gifts together and Jungkook just looked too much like your ideal boyfriend with the way he’s lining up for you on the counter and is watching over all the items, pulling you closer every now and then when the prospect of losing you to the crowd gets higher with every rush.

The same answer now while you’re passing the time on his bed as he’s hunched over his desk, a harmless question included randomly into your series of sleep-induced curiosity; the question of why he doesn’t want to know about his soulmate, asked in the same breath of casualness to whether Jungkook preferred his rice better cooked with too much water or too less of it, or if he’d go home for the holidays with presents already prepared.

“Is that a kink?” you scrunch your nose at his unwavering consistency, knowing you would’ve liked it for any other situation besides this.

Jungkook breathily laughs, shrugging his shoulders carelessly as if the two of you are talking about the weather and he’s admitted that it’s been years since he’s last looked at a forecast willingly.

“I don’t wanna know, really. I still breathe without knowing who they are.”

The way he says it is easy, no underlying malice indicated in his tone at all. He says it in the way as if he’s been asked this a hundred times and his response is natural and well-lived, not once changing.

“I don’t believe in fate.”

Hurt doesn’t even explain half the pain in your chest all this time but in this light with the way you’re simply asking him why he doesn’t want a soulmate, why he doesn’t want you by extension — it’s only an ache.

It’s only an ache that pacifies on your bones instead of gnawing on them. It’s drawn-out yet dull, the pain not striking you enough to the point that you even hum at him to elaborate.

“Because what if I don’t end up loving them? What if the one I end up loving isn’t the one the universe apparently destined for me?” Jungkook goes on, lips in a slight pout. “Love doesn’t have initials.”

You sink further into his pillow, playing with your fingers yet retaining your gaze on him.

“You don’t have to love your soulmate.”

Read: you don’t have to love me.

Additionally: you don’t have to love me because having you in this platonic way atleast gives me the semblance that you love me even by a fraction, but if you love me in the same way I love you, it’d be nice.

“You say that now to make me believe in them,” he snorts, twirling a pen between his fingers with a genuinely curious gaze, “but what happens if you aren’t the one they want?”

You haven’t been doing anything and yet you still stop in your tracks, the question echoing in your mind as you repeat his query out loud.

“What happens if your soulmate doesn’t want you?”

What does happen?

You don’t die. You don’t puke flowers.

There’s no catch to it. There’s no grand consequence to having your soulmate not want you.

It makes you think once of your present situation and rethink twice of every decision you’ve ever made beforehand when your ring finger was still plain and devoid of his initials; when the only person you’ve made plans with and for isn’t just yourself, when it wasn’t him.

Jungkook doesn’t want you.

What’s supposed to happen to you?

“I need you to stop zoning out and help me make this essay!” he whines demandingly and it’s the last thing that pulls you out of your thoughts, sitting up straighter.

“If you start asking now, I can actually start helping you, y’know?”

Jungkook’s in STEM while you’re a literary major, the obvious exchange of help being convenient, yet the only difference is that when you make him answer your worksheets, you don’t wait until it’s three hours before the supposed deadline.

He’s giddy now that he’ll get to finish his last assignment due, eyes scanning back to the instructions because his attention span’s already been spent looking at his phone.

“What's love to you?"

You freeze at the abruptness but you move on just as quick as you were surprised, remembering that it’s just the guideline for an essay and not the turning point you’ve expected it to be for a split second.

“How do you want me to answer that?

You ask lightly, humorously even, as you stand up from his bed, running a hand through your hair and working the knots of out of your neck before you get to work.

“I want you to answer it in the sense that I have a paper about love due tomorrow. At 12:00 in the morning.”

“Why?” Jungkook giggles additionally, nudging you with a shit-eating grin and a playful glint on his eyes. “How would you have wanted to answer that?”

“Nothing else,” you smile faintly, scooting him to out of his seat and switch positions so he could sit on his bed while you type for him at his desk. “I’m answering it in the sense that you would be lost without me.”

“Are you sure about that?”

It’s only meant to be a tease but it hits home nonetheless. Maybe it’s because you’re in your soulmate’s room underneath his lights and you’re visible to him. Maybe it’s because your mark pulses just ever so slightly underneath your ring, irritated and itchy underneath the silver as much as you feel hurt.

“Lost without me in the sense that you’d fail your subject if I don’t help you with your essay now."

( ♡ )

Anyone who’d meet Jungkook for the first time is likely to think of three things.

He looks clean. Handsome in a way that he looks effortless even if he wears the same oversized black shirt every guy wears outside, enough to garner second glances for himself. He’s tidy in the facet that he looks like he takes care of himself but not vain, far from annoying prep kids he scoffs at.

Jungkook looks rich and is rich. His family doesn’t come from generational wealth and yet they thrive from their own holdings, learning early-on that they owned a cottage near the beach and rented it out as they moved next-door, and the next thing you know is that at present, they own multiple properties and ventured out into food business that make absolute bank.

He carries himself with the stature that he knows what he’s doing, back sometimes slouched but dignified nonetheless, the air of importance surrounding him. Jungkook was raised in comfort but he’s humble, that much you’d bet your whole life into believing. He was the type to have pocket money whenever he goes out but he spends it in the same way you do, calculating his expenses mentally as if the bills in his wallet wouldn’t pay for the video games he’d want and even have some change afterwards.

He’s aware in the sense that he doesn’t forget where he comes from, admitting to you numerous times that his family having much disposable income sometimes bothers him. Jungkook thinks there’s an itch behind his ear whenever his dad proposes to eat at a five-star restaurant for dinner; that there’s a guilty pout on his face when his mom takes the initiative to buy him new sets of clothes because his shirts look too lived-in, even if he knows to himself that his wardrobe needed a change.

He’s down-to-earth and it reminds you of the way he’d forego all of his Fisher-Price toys just to try and plead to you if he could borrow your hand-me-down stuffies from your older siblings. Mr. and Mrs. Jeon are nothing but humble in the same way that they raised their child, despite the fact that in rare times, they have the taste for the finer things in life.

Mrs. Jeon’s beyond generous during the holiday seasons and you recall her gifting your mother the expensive casserole you’d catch her looking at in adoration whenever both your families had dinners, customized to her favorite color and attached with a heartfelt letter from Jungkook’s mom. Mr. Jeon practically adores your dad and looks up to him like a younger brother would, always taking him to fishing trips just and buying two pairs of the same things so the two of them could match.

Jungkook was raised-well and if it’s even possible at this point, he gets much more endearing in your eyes.

“Why would I not walk you home? We live together, if you haven’t realized.”

He says it when he sees you in campus as he drops everything to walk you home, even if your shared apartment isn’t his destination for the time being. He goes out of his way to ensure that if you stay home while he goes about his plans, there should be food in the fridge and cupboards that you’d actually like. He’d lock the door and try to budge it open from outside, and once he’s assured enough that it remains secured, he’d go about his routine of texting you to call him if you need him.

“You can have mine. I’m full anyway.”

Jungkook says it whenever the two of you end up ordering new items from menus and you end up liking your dish, offering you his plate nonchalantly. He insists that it just tastes average for him, and if he sees you hesitating on stealing some from his portion, he’d go as far as telling you that it tastes horrible so you wouldn’t feel guilty.

“Look! My mom sent you these! I told her you liked them.”

He calls you over every time his family’s goodies for him for the month arrives at the mail, laying the package on the floor as he waits for you to unbox it with him because he knows just how much you like going through things and organizing them. Mrs. Jeon always made sure to include something specifically meant for you in Jungkook’s box — whether it’s the family-sized portion of your recent cravings or your favorite hair treatment in bulk.

“Hey, wanna go on a drive with me?”

He asks you whenever he sees you too absorbed and frustrated in your studies in conjunction with whatever work gig you have at the time, heart panging to see you struggling to take care of yourself because he knows you have the tendency to try and finish everything as fast and as good as you could, not stopping even at personal circumstances. He’d simply put your pair of house slippers on the floor for you to wear, pull you up by your armpits to urge you to come with him, and he’d just drive. Would go through a drive-thru and take off from there, not pressuring you to open up to him at whatever cost.

Jungkook can’t sense you in the same way you do, like a soulmate would, but he cares for you in the way that he can tell when you don’t feel like functioning at all and you’re shutting down; you’re shutting even him off and that’s when he knows that something’s bothering you to no end even if he can’t decipher what is it.

Whatever’s in his power, Jungkook sits next to you, lies on top of you, and does almost everything to invade your personal space whenever you shut down — just because he doesn’t want to give up on you like how you do with him.

If anyone were to meet Jungkook for the first time, they’d know he’s uniquely himself.

He cleans up extremely good as he wears a suit to the grand opening of his family’s café, a dream of her mother ever since she was a teenager that became fully-realized and he can’t be any more happier seeing his parents content.

He greets people left and right with genuine happiness to see all of them ecstatic and supportive, eagerly shaking their hands with a full smile on his face. He draws everyone in effortlessly as if he’s inertia itself, well-aware that it can’t only possibly be you that looks at him with this much reverence.

There’s a red string of pull and you feel it when Jungkook stumbles on his feet on his way to you, feeling your body being slightly tugged downwards but you pull yourself up just as quick, playing it off by pretending that there’s a speck of dirt on your shoes.

He’s been looking for you for the past five minutes because it’s his mother’s fault that she wanted two floors for their café and it’s packed immediately on opening, pointing at you eagerly as he weaves through people. “There you are!”

It’s not your first time meeting Jungkook but you feel the same three things each time, heart swelling in size in familiarity of the person who inhabits it the most.

Jungkook giddily laughs and takes his position beside you, slinging an arm around your shoulders and making conversation with your parents for the umpteenth time, your head instinctively bending to lean against him. He looks every bit the part of the person you love the most in this world, despite being unsure if you even deserve to in the first place. He looks every bit of the guy that makes you realize you can’t deal with having anyone else’s initials on your finger, the words slipping out of you naturally.

“You look like someone’s first love.”

( ♡ )

You’re flawed.

You’re flawed and you don’t need anyone to tell you so in order to give yourself a wake-up call.

You’re flawed in a way because you feel dumb being so lovestruck and devoted with little to no point of salvation. You pride yourself in not being selfish but you’d be lying if you say don’t once hope that Jungkook would look at you in the way that you do. Every now and then would you feel the urge to demand from him insistently every second of the day that he should love you. That he owes you atleast that for the years you’ve spent helplessly trying to put him first rather than your own sanity.

But it feels wrong. It is wrong.

Jungkook doesn’t owe you anything and you know that much.

He doesn’t owe you anything and you shouldn’t expect for him to pay attention to you even if you’re his designated driver for the night, celebrating the end of the stressful semester by unwinding at a club.

He doesn’t owe you an explanation when you see him not fending off the countless girls that go up to him and get their hands on whatever they could; doesn’t owe you an apology when you see him leaning down fondly to kiss someone who isn’t you — someone who isn’t his soulmate.

You would’ve been alone in your booth and the club in general (your soulmate’s out of the equation because he looks like he’s in a different realm entirely) if not for Hoseok, someone who’s perhaps your second best friend right after Jungkook.

It’s merely a coincidence that the both of you are here at the same time, him being the one to easily spot you as he weaves himself in your company seamlessly because he’s been meaning to escape all his frat brothers who annoy him more these days.

“I have something to say to you.”

Hoseok breaks into your worrisome silence, beckoning you over even if the two of you are sat right next to each other with your shoulders bumping.

“No. no. Come closer,” he insists and it makes you roll your eyes at what he could be playing at this time, indulging him by putting the side of your face right against his playfully.

Hoseok’s even more rational and realistic than you could be. In fact, he’s followed your gaze the entire night and he wonders how you haven’t grown tired. He knows about your helpless pining for your soulmate who doesn’t even want to know about you nor your existence, and all he can do is watch.

“You’re insane if you think this whole thing wouldn’t end up anything but extremely painful.”

His words are in a harsh whisper but it feels as if he’s yelled at you right to your ear, making you flinch away from his softly with a defeated pout on your face.

His words come out of nowhere but the rational part of you, the one that disappears whenever you’re vulnerable in this state longing after Jungkook, already knew that you’ve had this coming for a long time.

Hoseok doesn’t sugarcoat his words and it’s what you need almost all of the time. He’s harsh and unforgiving and it reminds you that you have a friend who isn’t Jungkook — someone who isn’t as gentle or kind; someone who grounds you rationally whenever you get too far up your head.

“Let me live, Hobi.”

“What you’re doing isn’t living, Y/N.”

He thinks for a second that he’s being too harsh but he realizes that maybe, just maybe, you need the truth no matter how cruel it could be. He figures that maybe you’d need someone to call you out instead of pitying you over what they could clearly see. “Tell me,” he murmurs, crossing his arms as he looks at you whose eyes are avoiding his gaze.

“Do you live for yourself first?” he nudges you by the shoulder, lightly tapping your ring with his finger. “Or do you live for Jungkook?”

Do you live for yourself first,

or do you live for Jungkook?

You’re dead silent and it’s the type that Hoseok doesn’t want to hear, mumbling to yourself before leaning to his neck to sniff whatever remnant he has on.

“God, what are you on?” you’re deflecting and you know it, cracking your knuckles at the process. “Let me have a hit of it.”

“I’m serious over here.”

Hoseok sees right through you and you feel like crying, recognizing the familiar solemn look on his face because like everyone else who has even the faintest idea of your situation, he pities you.

“And I’m telling you this as someone who cares for you,” he lightly swipes underneath your eyes that are welling up with tears before they even get to fall, effectively prying them out. “Let go of him while you still can.”

“How do I do that?”

You’re breathless in exhaustion but it’s not as if you’ve done anything physically strenuous to be in such a state. You haven’t done anything but it feels as if the wind is knocked out of your lungs and it doesn’t come back to you even if your sail blows.

“How do I do that if Jungkook asks me what do I want for dinner?” there’s trepidation underneath your tone and Hoseok recognizes it, the tremble in your fingers visible even if you have them clenched. “How do I do that if he holds my hand when we cross the street and shields me in crowds?”

“How do you expect me to do that when he calls my parents on weekends and tells them that he’ll always look out for me?”

You’re not scared of letting Jungkook know but rather, you’re scared of your inevitable fall. You’re not scared of the white hot pain you anticipate to feel when the moment finally comes that he says it straight to your face that he doesn’t love you; you’re scared of what happens to the two of you after and what’s left of it.

“How do you expect me to stop loving Jungkook when he acts like he loves me back?”

“He doesn’t.”

“And I know that.”

You’re flawed in the way that you’re self-aware. That you’re painfully mindful of your own emotions and multitudes. You hate that you’re as logical as you are emotional and for once, you just wish you didn’t know better.

You wish that you’re insensitive and reckless. You wish you were more cunning in the sense that you disregard Jungkook completely and stop at nothing to try and get him to look your way with a different gaze.

You wish that you’re anyone but yourself, someone who’s deserving of Jungkook.

“What do I do now, Hobi?” you lean into him because you can’t support yourself and he knows it, the weight of your heart being heavier than your head on his shoulder.

You’re flawed because you suppress a coo at the back of your throat when Jungkook stumbles over to your booth and immediately wraps his arms around you, drunken babbles leaving him as it’s a sign for you to take him home.

You’re flawed because you hear your soulmate speak as you bid goodbye to Hoseok for the night, only smiling when you hear his words. It’s a pain that doesn’t encompass you, rather, it’s a pain that’s hot enough to burn your flesh yet just warm enough to quell the pain in your bones.

“You're my best, best friend in every universe. Y’know that?” he hiccups, eyes completely glazed and rubbed raw as he looks at the side of your face while you haul him to your car. “I hope you know that.”

( ♡ )

Your door opens up before you even realize it.

Actually, Jungkook opens your door before he even realizes it.

He’s woken up in a rush with a single text from his dad that they’re coming over to visit and normally it wouldn’t bother him. Waking up abruptly in the morning isn’t a problem to him and so is making a game plan in cleaning everything up to make sure it’s spotless to his mother’s standards.

What is a problem is that when he entered the bathroom to brush his teeth without a shirt on, he sees the reflection of his hickies from the night before glaring right at him.

However, what an even bigger problem than that is when he tries to wake you up by knocking on your door with the pleads of helping him cover his marks up, it automatically opens when he twists the knob.

“Y/N, no! Why’s your door unlocked?”

His eyes widen in panic and worry, wondering why it wasn’t even locked in the first place. Better yet, has it never been locked ever since? When he leaves you alone in the apartment, do you go out of your way to unlock the main door that he secures closed on the way out?

“And why aren’t you even moving out of bed when someone’s inside your room? What if it isn’t me? What if it’s someone else who did the exact things I did?”

Jungkook’s more worried than he is mad even if his tone’s jittery, hands on his hips as his mind makes up for the whole nine yards. Seriously, does he regard your safety more than you do with your own? Leaving your door open is beyond unsafe. Were you being more forgetful these days? Does he not look over you enough?

You’re oblivious to his panicked state as you burrow yourself deeper into your sheets, eyes remaining peacefully closed because it doesn’t surprise you anymore when he suddenly inserts his presence into your vicinity.

“But it’s you,” you sleepily mumble, half-coherent with the way you hug your pillow closer. “Aren’t you the one who kept knocking at my door?”

He scoffs because you do make a point even if he refuses to admit it, but it just ticks him in a way that you regard his concern for you so lightly. “That’s different and-…”

“And now you’ve opened it yourself and invited yourself into my room.”

“Yeah and that’s okay because it’s me!” he gestures out but he forgets that you’re not even looking at him, unaware of how he looks genuinely upset and worried at the moment. “But what if it was someone else, hm?”

“Like who, an intruder?” you suggest even if you don’t know where this conversation is taking you, your careless words leaving you before you even realize because you don’t have half the realization to think about them deeper. “You’ll protect me if there is one, right?”

Jungkook freezes in his tracks and he suddenly feels no point in trying to berate you further, the stark suggestion that was only meant to be light-hearted painting him a grave image he wasn’t even trying to conjure, trying not to snowball for the worst possible scenario.

He should always be there for you, that much he knows.

“Fucking idiot, of course I would,” he huffs that you even doubt his prioritization for you and it makes you snort because you clearly hear it, turning to face the other side as you make no move in shooing him away and instead try to go back to sleeping. “But starting now, promise me you’ll lock your doors and wake up immediately when someone knocks, alright? You hear me?”

“Hmm.”

“Cross your heart on it,” he says it out of habit even if he knows you wouldn’t do it anyway, sitting on the vacant side of you bed as he tries to shake you awake. “Anyways, I need a favor from you.”

It’s never been lost on you that unlike every other time, Jungkook wouldn’t willingly come to you this early into the night without needing something from you for his own benefit. You don’t get your hopes up that perhaps this time, he comes to your bed just to hold you in warmth amongst his embrace because it’s something only a fever nap could do for you; clearly not sick enough to see that image.

“What do you need me for now?” your eyes start blinking open as you shift to look straight up at the ceiling, casting a glance on Jungkook who has a sheepish pout on his face.

“Please cover up my hickies. I’m begging you."

You don’t even flinch once and he’s nervous at how it seems like you didn’t even hear what he said, prompting to explain himself further. “Mom and Dad are visiting and they’re already on the way.”

You’re used to this.

There shouldn’t be any surprise factor to know that the time Jungkook wakes you up outside for the purpose of not making you late to your classes or to your errands, it would be for his sake. He wakes you up for the sake of himself, asking of you to cover up his hickies because he’s ever the angel to his parents and he can’t do it himself.

Jungkook wakes you up for you to see marks that link him to another woman, even if it’s just for a night, while he covers up the only marks he has of you on his finger and he doesn’t even know it, completely devoid of the only linking thing you have with him.

“Get me my makeup bag.”

He immediately knows where it is and he manages to mumble out a rushed thanks, sprinting back to where you lay. In fact, you have a separate concealer in Jungkook’s shade already that you don’t even need to turn the light on to know it’s a perfect match.

You sit up lazily and cover up his hickies like it’s routine. You see him everyday as he belongs to everyone but yourself, and the physical proof of it doesn’t hurt you as much as you expected it to be.

He lays down on your lap and neither of you talk.

You skim past the hues of pink and purple on his neck as if you were born simply to see them on your soulmate’s neck, as if you were conditioned all your life to be the one to cover up hickies on Jungkook’s skin as your sole purpose. You do the process of covering it up over and over again until you get rid of the marks that remind him he isn’t yours at all, right until he sits up to admire your handicraft.

“Woah, it’s like it wasn’t even there! This is so-“

“Now get out.”

Jungkook’s eyes widen as he gets whiplash from your hostile tone, but he probably chalks it up to you being sleepy, him interrupting your rest, and you desperately wanting to get back to it.

He’s out of your room to now clean up the entire place but your tone doesn’t leave him still, making him sigh out loud while he tries not to overthink it.

You’re just sleepy.

You’d never get mad at him.

Jungkook’s eyes blink once, twice as he resumes wiping down the counters, slower and more thoughtful this time.

You’d never get mad at him, right?

( ♡ )

The day is slow and so is the pain in your heart.

You can’t put a finger on it exactly, but being with Jungkook in any other form besides a soulmate doesn’t hurt you as much nowadays. The hurt is there but it’s never really left anyway. The vacuum in the shape of Jungkook from within you has been there for so long that the hurt you feel seems like a routine at this point.

You look for him in the way when there’s a misplaced decoration on the shelf; a single magazine missing amongst a row of books. You look for it, but you come to accept it. You don’t look for Jungkook in the way when you realize that an heirloom is missing from your possession and you tear around the whole place to seek it.

Having Jungkook away from your grasp feels as normal as you have him within yours platonically, the two weighing the same amount of harrowing.

“I have an idea,” Jungkook proposes to you over the couch when he’s shouldered dinner and it’s just yet to arrive, passing the time by being around you even if your attention isn’t on him. “What if you look at my soulmate mark?”

You’ve only been endlessly scrolling through your feed and as much as you expected Jungkook to bother your silence with one conversation or another, you didn’t think it’s be this.

Rarely does it cross your mind nowadays that you’re soulmates before you’re best friends turned roommates. In fact, not once did you wander about him today and admittedly in realization, it scares you before it relieves you.

“What for?”

“Shit and giggles, I think,” he replies with much amusement but the determination in his eyes tell you that he’s more than insistent. “Don’t tell me about it though. Don’t tell me even a single clue.”

You will yourself to look back at your phone, to ignore him as if he hasn’t said the stupidest yet simultaneously brightest proposal he’s ever given you because it’s too sudden. You’ve waited for years but now that Jungkook’s asking you to look at his mark in behalf of him, simply for shit and giggles, you worry that it’s too sudden. Too early. That the moment you’ve waited for years is too abrupt and now you’d rather wait for another lifetime for it.

“What’re you doing this for?”

You repeat the question again but you’re equally as serious the first time around, seeing his brows furrow because he feels like you’ve changed the atmosphere without him knowing.

“I suddenly got curious.”

“You don’t get curious.”

“I know, I just get easily influenced,” Jungkook sheepishly admits, scratching the back of his head because it seems to him that you’re cornering him and shutting him down for no reason at all. He doesn’t necessarily know why he feels intimidated by you, but it doesn’t mean he wouldn’t try to ease the tension by explaining himself. “Remember when I asked you to cover up my hickies last week?”

“What about it?” your eyes narrow in genuine wonder, prompting you to think just how long Jungkook’s been meaning to ask you this.

“You weren’t wearing a bra that time.”

The words tumble out of Jungkook’s mouth continuously and he only has the mind to look embarrassed by it when you sputter out loud, averting his gaze to suppress a laugh,

“Jungkook-!” your pupils dart wildly, appalled and embarrassed at the same time when you defensively cross your arms across your chest even if what he’s pertaining to has long been finished. “Of course I wasn’t wearing a bra! It was 5 AM and I was still asleep when you kept knocking on my door!”

“And I wasn’t looking!” he defends himself with a laugh, head automatically shaking as he tries to reach out to you but you only swat him away. “I just glanced once because I realized it but I didn’t look again, I swear!”

“Well sometimes, you should keep your mouth shut!” you squeak, rolling your eyes as you try to get away from his further by moving to the opposite end of the couch. “I would’ve been able to live in peace without knowing you saw my boobs through my shirt.”

“It’s normal! Just like you seeing me without a shirt! We live together, stupid. It was bound one way or another,” he argues, earning yet another frustrated groan from you.

You power through the embarrassment because you’d look like such a sore loser if you walk away from him now, hiding your face to a throw pillow as Jungkook gathers his wits while he tries to get closer to you, abandoning his spot on the other end of the couch.

“Not only weren’t you wearing a bra-”

“Watch it,” you seethe when he gets close enough for you to flick his forehead harshly, earning a whine from him in the midst of laughing as he gets choked up.

His cheeks are tinted pink and it’s clear he can’t breathe well with how much he’s entertained, clearing his throat a few times and having to look away from you because your face alone apparently sends him into a fit of giggles.

You think this is the end of it. You think Jungkook’s effectively forgotten about his previous proposal and you’d be able to end the night with a good dinner and no confrontations at all, but your expectation gets spoiled as soon as you started hoping.

“You weren’t wearing your ring too.”

Your heart drops before you even get to digest all of the words, the hurt hitting you before the impending realization.

“W-what?”

Jungkook’s face twists in worry to see you so shaken up when he barely did anything, certain that you wouldn’t look this pale over a few minutes of teasing and banter. He tilts his head at you and it prompts you to straighten up and fix the worry in your features, good enough for him to continue.

“Don’t worry, I didn’t look. Besides, your mark was turned away from me the entire time because you were dabbing on my neck and I was getting sleepy while you did it,” he shrugs carelessly and it’s the first time you could physically feel the relief in your shoulder that melts all away the tension, the feeling so fluid that it feels warm.

“It was still dark too,” he adds in recollection, a faint smile on his face as he gestures to you and motions at your chest vaguely. “All I saw were just like… peaks and shadows.”

“Shut the fuck up, Jungkook,” you snap but there’s no real bite to it. In fact, it even sounds sweet but he doesn’t know how to read between the lines and therefore nestles to your side in rising worry.

“I’m sorryyy,” he drawls out and the moment he feels you pat his nape with your confirmation that it’s okay and doesn’t really matter in the first place, he springs up back to his straight posture against the cushions of the couch, an eager smile evident.

“Anyways, that’s why you have me wondering what’s underneath my ring,” he connects seamlessly, obviously unaware of the way you’ve tensed up beside him. “Now come on, it’s okay! Think of this as me making it up to you. You can go look.”

Jungkook turns his position on the couch to face you, his left hand raised right in front of you and he’s laughing with unknown nerves, the feeling being akin to being tickled because he anticipates it fully, but the sensation feels different every time.

Your mouth dries when you’re faced with the same signet ring that you wear yourself, right on Jungkook’s digit. The shiny silver stares back at you in the eye and you can’t take your gaze away from it, the familiar piece of jewelry looking more unrecognizable the longer you look at it.

You don’t know what you expect from it when he teasingly starts to pull his ring up without any big movements to reveal the ink that’s underneath, but as much as you don’t know what you want to see, the trepidation blooms fully in your chest for you to have the mind in stopping him.

“Don’t.”

Jungkook’s confused and shocked to why you suddenly refused, recalling that just two seconds ago, you were all for his fun little proposal but now you’re no longer on-board.

He’s familiar with the conflict in your eyes, he just doesn’t recognize what’s it supposed to be. He sees the cracks of your hurt, he just doesn’t know the focus of it,

“Why not?” he frowns, genuinely curious to see you avoiding his gaze.

“I shouldn’t be the first one to see it.”

“I trust you, though.”

It’s what hurts all the more because he trusts you to see the initials of what would lead him to his soulmate, to you, but not in looking at you face-to-face for you to become the very thing he doesn’t want.

“Maybe next time, Jungkook.”

The mood is somber and he doesn’t know what to make of it besides the fact that you worry him deeply, bending downwards to have a glance at your face. “Do you wanna talk about it?”

He looks down on his ring but now he suddenly feels off-put looking at it, obscuring his mark that makes him curious.

“Does it have to do with your own soulmate not wanting you?” he jokes around lightly to ease the mood and if only he knew that he’s hurting you right where it hurts, he would’ve shut his mouth int the first place.

You’re bitter, harshly biting the inside of your cheek to prevent yourself from crying, voice straining as you try to bring back the playful atmosphere.

“I’ll have you know, I’m easy to love, Jungkook. Try it sometime."

He giggles right to your face — laughs at your hurt, right to your vulnerability and the little pride you have left.

“Silly,” Jungkook ruffles your hair in much amusement, eyes crinkling in giddiness because you’ve bounced back from the minor inconvenience in his eyes just as quick. “I can’t love you.”

( ♡ )

Jungkook’s family has a new house.

What’s different this time is that the house they had built isn’t for business purposes to be occupied by long-time tenants nor short-term guests. The spacious three-floored house is wide in technicality but it feels quaint and warm with all the furniture and personality inside it. Most vacation houses and cottages they had built are neutral, the life of the space completely dependent on its future inhabitants. But this house of theirs is clearly their own, the evidence of the three-member family visible from floor to ceiling.

Your family’s at the top of the guest list for their housewarming and it’d be a lie to say that you don’t feel fold seeing your parents and older siblings’ reaction to the welcome that the Jeon family gives. They’re nice hosts with the way they usher their visitors to the catering tables but they’re even more warm and familial with the way they give you your plates themselves, taking you by the arm as they tour your family around their house way ahead of everyone.

Mr. Jeon gushes to your dad how they have a pond out back and invites him to accompany him next week to buy fish for their deck, Jungkook’s dad insisting that he drives the two of them and they can go for street food right after.

Jungkook takes pride in touring around your mom and your older siblings by proudly introducing them to the other visitors, all along the lines of how you’re all basically like family ever since they’ve moved in next door to your family, their humble beginnings in the form of their original house where they started from scratch.

You stand meekly by the corner, against one of the towering pillars as you watch everyone interact with each other. One thing about the Jeon family is that they’re just the type of successful no one could ever be bitter of because they’re immensely kind and genuine, not a trace of bitterness being seen in any of the faces you see.

You know the last thing you should be feeling at the moment is displacement because as far as you knew, your family’s the talk of the household right after the hosts’. You should know out of all people that you belong in this environment that’s nothing short of familial and supportive, but it’s unavoidable.

It’s unavoidable because you see exactly why Jungkook doesn’t need you.

It’s inevitable to feel out of place because in yet another house that serves as a home for Jungkook, you realize why he finds no need nor significance in having a soulmate because he has everything he needs and more.

He has everything that completes him and balances him perfectly. He stands on his own two feet and is able to be happy without knowing who the universe has assigned for him. He lives and breathes without knowing you and it’s perfectly okay.

It’s perfectly okay for him to not want you and only live for himself because he doesn’t owe you at all.

Jungkook doesn’t owe you the love that you give him and that’s perfectly okay.

Everything should be perfectly okay because he is and yet you don’t know why your eyes are downcast despite everyone else around moving on without you. No one owes you anything and you should know better than to even voice the tiniest bit of sentiments you’ve been repressing all this time because the hurt you feel should only be yours.

All the while, you’re oblivious to how you’ve gained the attention of the woman who knows Jungkook the most before you.

“It’s Jungkook, isn’t it?”

Mrs. Jeon stands before you and your eyes flit to hers in an instant, pupils trembling to see what she could possibly mean.

You think you could salvage the pitiful situation she’s caught you in because of course, there’s no possible way that she could know, right? Even your own family doesn’t know of the initials that are inked on your finger and they’re your own flesh and blood. If anything, they should be the one who’d figure it out first.

The lie you were supposed to tell her gets caught in your throat because from her gaze alone, the same gaze you receive when Hoseok speaks you the truths you always try and make excuses for, you know that she knows.

Mrs. Jeon sees right through you before Jungkook and the realization crosses her face that the two of you only stand parallel.

“I’m sorry,” she apologizes, the dots connecting in her head much faster even if it’s years worth of all her intuitions, the gravity of it only hitting her now. “I’m so, so sorry.”

“There’s nothing to be sorry for.”

You quickly shake your head even if she holds your hands in hers, her eyes wide and glassy to see her son’s soulmate in this light. She’s always treated you as a daughter and at first, she thought it’s because she only has a son. That maybe it’s because Jungkook’s an only child and she’s always wanted a daughter figure in her life. That maybe, she just happens to love you more than any of the daughters her friends have because she’s known you the longest.

She feels so remorseful that she should’ve listened to her instincts more and not just glaze over the fact that perhaps, you were her son’s soulmate. She feels that maybe she could’ve protected you better by saying that sooner or later, Jungkook would outgrow his phase of sleeping around.

She’s not blind to see the makeup that covers her son’s neck whenever she comes over, no matter how seamless it is. However, she’s blind enough to not see that it’s you all this time and how you’ve been hurting far longer than you should’ve.

“But what about you? What happens to you?”

“I’ll be okay, mom.”

She told you to call her that, much like how your mother insisted that Jungkook calls her that too. You reassure her endlessly that she shouldn’t feel sorry at all because it’s no one’s fault, and if it’s anyone whose blame should befall on, it should be you.

“Why did it have to be you?” her lip blubbers and it reminds you of her son, seeing her clench her eyes at the second wave of realization that you must be so hurt beyond salvation. “Oh god, I’m so sorry, Y/N.”

You don’t deserve the apology but hearing it makes you awed, your own tears welling at your eyes because for once, even if it’s the person you’ve least expected to say it to you, you feel seen. You feel remorse and pity without being looked down on; something you haven’t been able to experience in a long time.

“You deserve someone better than Jungkook.”

She looks up as if it would resolve anything. Mrs. Jeon looks like she’s begging for the universe to befall and it catches you off-guard with how she’s hugging you so tightly.

If she prayed to the universe for a short second, then the universe must’ve loved her enough to grant whatever it is that she wished for. The universe doesn’t befall on you but rather, it marches up to you with a furrow in his brow and his jaw clenched.

“What do you mean better than me?”

Jungkook didn’t mean to eavesdrop in the first place but he couldn’t hold himself back from inserting himself into the conversation that two of the most important women in his life were having, thinking it would be something he’s familiar with given the way the two of you looked shellshocked at each other.

“What are you talking about?”

He harshly whispers and neither of you meet his desperate gaze, not one bit of reassurance trying to confirm nor deny what he had just heard. He looks at his mother clutching your hands, thumb particularly rubbing your signet ring like how she would with a wound to soothe.

The realization and the heaviness that come with it are unlike no other.

“In my room now.”

Jungkook seethes as he doesn’t wait for an answer, pulling you desperately upstairs. He’s fuming even if his grasp on your wrist is gentle. He’s furious at you even if he nudges you inside his room, closing the door behind him firmer than he’d ever think of.

“Jungkook-“

“You are so fucking evil.”

What you could only see at the surface is that he’s mad, the maddest you’ve ever seen him. You don’t know if he’s mad at you directly but you feel the bite of his words nonetheless, catching you in surprise that you stutter.

“W-what?”

His expression can’t be gauged and neither can he discern what he feels. All he feels is that he’s in the dark and he’s disoriented with how blinding the light is that’s focused on him now, voice turning hoarse with how overwhelmed he feels.

“How long have you known? How long were you lying to me, huh?” he has his hands on his hips, looking at you as if he’s never seen you before and all he knows is that he’s angry at you. It feels like he doesn’t know you besides the outline of you that blindsides him. “How many people know that it’s me? How did it happen that my mother knew that I’m your soulmate before I did?”

You’re mad at him too. You’re angry at him because he speaks down to you in the way as if he doesn’t know you and all you’ve done to him is hurt him when not once did you betray him to be treated hostile as such. All you’ve done is give and it feels like Jungkook’s asking you to give him the satisfaction of being angry at you, one that he feels entitled to.

“I didn’t let you know because you didn’t want to. You’ve said it yourself a hundred times!”

“How would I have known that my fucking soulmate was standing in front of me the whole time?” he raises his voice, eyes widening. “Almost my whole life, Y/N! You knew and you didn’t even question my beliefs once?”

“And I know you don’t love me for almost as long as my whole life too. Even if I told you, it wouldn’t have made a difference. You wanted to be free and I let you!”

He scoffs, throwing his head back to mock you. He’s never the one to cry when arguing but the frustration wells up in his eyes because it all feels too much.

“So now you’re holding your heroic act against me? You already know how I feel about soulmates. You already know what I don’t feel about you! You could’ve just left and I would’ve understood!”

“No, Jungkook. You wouldn’t have understood,” your finger points at him and you don’t feel the slightest bit of remorse that you’ve offended him. “You wouldn’t have understood because not once were you in my shoes. I didn’t leave you because you didn’t want me to leave!”

Jungkook would make you cross your heart multiple times for you to never leave him. You were older than him by a few months and at one point, Jungkook must’ve looked up to you. He would’ve made you cross your heart to not leave him in the playground as kids and to not leave him to eat alone at lunch as students. He made you cross your heart to not leave him for longer than necessary as roommates, and cross your heart to lock your doors so he’d be able to sleep securely at night that nothing and nobody can harm you.

“You’re right, I wouldn’t have wanted you to leave,” he grits his teeth, looking at you menacingly with stray tears on his cheeks. “But when I said that, I meant that in the sense that you shouldn’t ever leave your best friend.”

“You could’ve left me as a soulmate and I would be okay, Y/N,” Jungkook emphasizes and it’s not lost on you what he’s asking from you now. “But you’re still here! You’re still around me and it’s like you’re expecting me to love you back!”

You’re flawed but you know better than to let Jungkook construct his own truths that the both of you know are lies, persistently shaking your head as your eyes prick in frustration.

“I would never force you to love me back and you know it, Jungkook.”

You mean it with every fiber in your being because it’s tattooed into your mind that he doesn’t owe you anything at all. You love Jungkook simply because you do and you don’t expect it to be requited.

You mean it genuinely when you say that not once have you ever pressured him to love you back but it falls on deaf ears because he goes on, no matter how much you try to get it through his mind.

“I don't have to love you. Goddamn it Y/N, atleast give me a choice here. Don't just chain me to you!"

You resist the urge to grip at your hair as you cry, sobbing frustratedly. His words no longer hurt but what instead hurts you is that he makes you out for someone who isn’t you, the little pride you have left forcing you to stand up for yourself and become rational. “Hey, hey. Listen. Two people can be soulmates and not be in love with each other, y'know? That's possible."

“It’s not-“

“I’m already in love with you, Jungkook! That's the problem!”

You burst as you raise your voice and the little moment of calm gets washed away because Jungkook retaliates even louder, his chest heaving as he points at himself.

“I’m the problem now? You've been begging me all this time to love you back, and now I’m the problem?"

“You're not getting my point, Jungkook!"

“I’m really not getting your point here because you're making it sound like it's my fault that you love me!"

You try to breathe deeply, running your hands through your hair as the words slip out of you. “Maybe it's your fault, have you ever thought about that? You act as if you love me-"

“What the fuck? I’m kind, Y/N. Being kind is different from-"

“Best friends don’t-“

The words get lost on your tongue.

You stop yourself and it’s as if one seed of clarity plants itself in your mind, the sudden silence making Jungkook cease the heaving of his chest as none of you speak a word.

You’re flawed but this is the only time you feel that it’s fine to be as such, figuring that if you want to salvage the tiny bit of whatever compassion you have for yourself, you should no longer try. The tensions melts away from your shoulders and Jungkook feels the way the atmosphere once again changes before he knows it, wide eyes trying to gauge what exactly is happening.

“I’ll stop — cross my heart.”

( ♡ )

Jungkook doesn’t want to lose you.

It’s your university’s semestral break for the holidays and throughout the entire time, you haven’t contacted him.

You don’t contact him even when it’s the day before Christmas and there’s two minutes left on the clock before it’s the 25th.

The two of you are apart this time. You’re in your childhood home while his family stays over in their new vacation house. His parents miss your family beyond measure but they’d overheard your fight and decides that maybe having a different celebration this year, one that’s only the three of them even if it’s not as boisterous and fun being with your household, is for the better.

The wound’s still fresh. The sting’s still there and it’s barely healing.

That’s why Jungkook sends you a quick series of texts before his family feasts without you.

i’m sorry for the things i’ve said, i was really rude

i don’t want to lose you

happy holidays btw, we miss you

see you after break :)

( ♡ )

It’s like it never happened.

It’s like Jungkook didn’t cry himself to sleep and feel extremely lethargic because as soon break was over and the two of you are back into your shared apartment, you act normal.

You act as if nothing changed and it drives him out of his mind for you to be so casual despite everything because it’s like this time, he’s the only who’s affected by the entire situation that’s unfolded. The two of you’ve already exchanged apologies and reassurances that you’d move on collectively but now that he thinks about it, Jungkook never should’ve agreed to move on.

He never should’ve agreed to move on because out of the two of you, you’re the only one who isn’t on a standstill.

He’s distraught that even if it’s the same scenario and scenery before the two of you even blew over, you move on from him faster than he thought you could. Jungkook almost cried himself to sleep when you weren’t home by 9 PM from your classes and you looked genuinely confused to see him pacing by the kitchen, waiting for you to come home.

He feels like he’s losing it by the minute when you wake up by yourself and not without his incessant knocking that you’d be late for class if you stay in bed for a minute longer.

His heart feels like it’s about to break down when you don’t call him over to say hi whenever your parents call you, only getting to hear your conversations through the door as he suddenly feels that he’s excluded from all the things he shares with you.

He reminds himself that he wanted this. He reminds himself that he said he wanted you to leave during his family’s housewarming party, that he then retracts his statement and said he didn’t want to lose you over the holidays, and that all throughout the years he’s been with you — he’s never wanted you.

Jungkook reminds himself that he’s still with you.

He’s still with you, that much he knows.

He just isn’t sure if you’re still with him.

( ♡ )

Jungkook didn’t expect for this to hurt so bad.

He didn’t expect to be so lost into his thoughts that he couldn’t sleep in his room and marches right outside the living room wearing a new pair of socks that he didn’t expect to be this slippery, not registering into his mind that he’s done household chores the whole day to keep his mind preoccupied and that the hardwood floors are squeaky clean with wax.

He didn’t expect that he’d slip and fall on his arm painfully that it makes him wince, groaning at the impact of his body weight crushing his arm and for such a striking pain to travel to his elbow all the way to the tips of his fingers.

Jungkook didn’t expect for it to hurt this much because you don’t come out of your room to help him and he can’t take it, frustrated as he can’t get up that he does nothing but yell out your name multiple times.

All his calls for you effectively summoned you out but you’re more confused than you are panicked, a gasp leaving your lips when you see him lying in pain on the floor.

“What happened to you?” you ask in worry as you try to pull him up without hurting him, making him wince while trying to answer your question nonetheless.

“Huh?” he lets you carry him up to sit him down the couch for the meantime, assessing just how bad his fracture looks like to see if you’d have to drive him to the hospital. “What do you mean? Didn’t you feel the pain?”

Jungkook knows about the red string of pull and his eyes blink twice in confusion because you only realize what he’s talking about belatedly, the genuine confusion in your face making him swallow the lump in his throat.

“Oh. I didn't feel it. There wasn't a pull."

“Stop joking with me."

He clenches his jaw at how you could manage to play with him over such an important matter, even more baffled when you defensively shake your head and even breathlessly laugh.

“I’m not, Kook! I swear, I really didn't."

“Bullshit,” he rolls his eyes casually, deadpanning at you with a gasp emerging from his lips. “You knew I broke my arm and intentionally didn't help me!”

“Jungkook, I swear on my life,” he sees you hold up your hand in the air in a promise, tiny giggles of disbelief leaving you as he genuinely can’t understand where exactly is the humor you find in this.

He purses his lips and tries to look deeper for anything in your eyes that give you away even the slightest bit, pointing at your ring. “Take it off."

He watches intently the way surprise sweeps across your features and he thinks for a second that you’re just lying to him — you wouldn’t really take off your ring because doing so would confirm his hopes that it’s his same initials with the same vivid shade of red, right?

But you do it nonetheless.

Truth be told you’ve only removed your ring once since the incident because you didn’t want to be reminded of whose initials were underneath it, but it surprises you that your compliance gets the better of you and you take it off from him.

Jungkook’s stare falters to see the very thing he’s asked for.

What he could only make out clearly now is the J in the middle of his first and last initial, the two other letters clearly not as prominent. You’re shocked to see the difference from when you last saw your mark, the first J and K by your ring finger fading in contrast.

“You can’t — is this true?” he finds himself swallowing the lump in his throat painfully, taking your finger into his own hands that he barely winces using his other arm, rubbing his thumb against your skin to see if it was just some trick. “Surely you can’t spell my name without the jeon and the kook, right?”

His breathing is too heavy and you don’t speak either. The two of you have heard about this once when you were children from both of your mothers, all blissfully too young and unaware to consider the possibility that it might just happen to the two of you.

“About the mark-…”

“My mom said-…”

The two of you pipe up at the same time but Jungkook lets you go first because even if you haven’t spoken at the same time as he did, he wouldn’t have been able to finish what he was supposed to say.

You say your next words honestly, in a gentle and soft voice but it lands loud and disruptive to Jungkook’s ears, making him want to clamp his ears shut because he refuses to believe.

“It could be because the universe is reassigning me a new soulmate.”

“Y-yeah,” he clears his throat as if it would stop the tears that are threatening to fall on his cheeks, looking down on his lap as he unconsciously hunches on himself. “I remember our moms saying this when we were kids.”

“Mhmm,” you hum in recollection, pointing to him eagerly because the two of you are at the same page. “I asked my mom about a week ago then an hour later, I got put into a groupchat with all the moms of the friends that I have."

Jungkook weakly snorts to match your energy because he’s weak. He’s too weak to raise his head to face how you’re so nonchalant about this and this time, it’s him who’s hurting so badly.

“Everyone's bets are on PJM — Park Jimin! Who would’ve known, right? The J initial makes sense."

Jimin, a family friend of a family friend.

Jimin, the one kid in preschool that always wowed the parents and the teachers because he talks like how a fourth-grader would and knows how to do addition with the carrying.

Jimin, a distant friend who studied abroad for college and whose news broke out that he’s coming back home during his break and plans to settle here in your city.

Jimin, someone who’s theorized to replaced Jungkook.

“Don't even joke about that. I’m serious,” he mumbles under his breath and the croak of his voice gives him away, suddenly standing up from the couch and forgetting about his physical pain entirely, bidding you a quiet good night that he could only know is not something that he’d be getting underneath this dark.

“I’m gonna go to sleep."

( ♡ )

Jungkook wishes that his eyesight wasn’t so clear.

He wishes he didn’t heed his mother’s warnings of not looking at screens for too long too closely and his father’s insistence that he takes his vegetables and vitamins.

He wishes that his vision is poor because in that way, he wouldn’t be able to notice how the silver that’s against your skin looks different; how he couldn’t tell that it’s shine isn’t the same that he’s used to seeing and how it’s no longer the signet ring that looks like the same piece that he wears on your ring finger.

“Did you change your ring?"

He asks you one morning when you’re making breakfast. He memorizes seeing the furrow in your brows and the realization in your face as you look down on your hand, his words clicking into your head in understanding.

“Oh yeah, I did.”

Your ring’s now of a thicker design with intricate details and swirls, the band of it seemingly molded into decorative crosses. It looks heavy and of high-quality and Jungkook’s certain that your ring’s more expensive this time, clueless to where and when you got it.

The groove of the silver reminds him of the letter P, and his mind goes to Jimin’s family name instantaneously — and it makes Jungkook pray that he’d rather have his vision tainted than to ever see it on your skin.

( ♡ )

“Where are you going this early in the morning?”

Jungkook can’t bear to sleep in his bedroom anymore nowadays because it feels to confined, not wanting to be alone with his thoughts and insecurities which is why he chooses to sleep in the living room where it’s open and he has everywhere else to look at besides his ceiling.

He hasn’t even been sleeping well in the first place which is why he’s alert from his shallow nap when your door clicks open and he sees you already bathed and dressed.

“My dad told me to join him fishing,” you answer when you move on from the surprise he’s given you, releasing the hand from your chest as you calm down. “He’s fishing with Jimin’s dad.”

You’re too busy packing snacks that you don’t register how there’s pillows and blankets on the couch because Jungkook sleeps out here nowadays, compared to your assumptions that he’s just gaming or doing his assignments. Your back is turned to him which is why you don’t notice his face that looks crestfallen at your further explanation, heart sinking in thought.

“Oh,” he stabilizes his voice as best as he could, eyes set at the back of your head as he tries not to give himself away. “Would Jimin be there?”

“Not sure. I’ll see when I get there.”

He nods once, biting on his lip as he tries again.

“Is my dad coming with?”

“O-oh,” the realization crosses your mind that your dad’s companion when it comes to fishing and perhaps any other activity is Mr. Jeon, only hitting you now that you haven’t heard the mention of his name. “I honestly don’t know.”

That’s the thing of both your dads and Jungkook aches at the thought if his time is over. If his family’s time is over with yours. If it’s too late and the ink on your finger can no longer be traced back to him.

If it’s still him.

“Drive safe, m’kay? Call me when you need me.”

You don’t approach him for a goodbye hug and he feels too odd to only keep to himself as you leave out the door, not looking back even once.

Call me even if you don’t need me.

The words only remain on his tongue because speaking it out loud is pointless. It’s pathetic to be said out in the open because you aren’t there for him to look like a fool in front of. He looks pathetic as he waits for you.

It’s because you don’t call him throughout the day to ask if he’s already brought out the meat to defrost for his lunch or what he wants for dinner because you’re ordering on the way home. It’s because you don’t tell him to text you repeatedly so you wouldn’t fall asleep in traffic and miss out on your dad’s banter. It’s because even if he doesn’t need anything from you; even if you aren’t willing to give and he’s eager to take —

Jungkook will always need you.

( ♡ )

The pain Jungkook feels in his bones simmers before it bubbles over.

It marinates and lulls into his skin warmly before it stings. It’s a soothing type of heat that he mistakes for tension before it starts to sting. The pain he feels in his heart all the way down to the pit of his stomach stings before it boils and bubbles at his skin.

The pain he feels burns him unlike no other.

It’s the type of hurt he feels that no matter how much he rubs at his skin and cries his eyes out, it doesn’t relieve him even the slightest bit. He doesn’t feel the calmness when he goes through every single thing that used to soothe him before, every chance at salvation only for the pain to burn deeper making him more frustrated than the last.

Jungkook cries his eyes out every night and he thinks he’s exhausted all the tears out of himself because he finds himself knocking on your door, waiting for you to grant him entrance as he keeps his breathing at bay.

It’s late at night when you’re buried into doing your requirements that you tumble out of your chair to open the door for Jungkook, figuring that it must be an emergency with the way his knocks are desperate.

His eyes land on you the moment you open the door for him, words crawling out of his mouth as he pleads.

“Let me kiss you."

He’s no stranger to the confusion in your face and it feels as if nothing from the two of you would surprise each other at this point. He knows you’re tired and busy but he can’t stop himself to just reserve what he feels tonight and save it for the morning.

Your mouth flounders in wonder, closing it when you figure that nothing else would be lost from you.

You let Jungkook kiss you.

You taste as sweet as Jungkook thought for you to be and more and he cries. He cries as you allow him to kiss you for the first time and let him knock his forehead against yours as his cheeks are damp with despair, eyes looking down on your finger instinctively.

You know exactly what he’s looking at and it makes you sigh solemnly, pressing your knuckles against your sheets so he wouldn’t be able to see.

“Jungkook-…”

Jungkook refuses to give up because this time, he interrupts you with an even deeper kiss that you accidentally moan into, lost into your senses by the surprise that it makes your eyes close.

He tastes you deeper and longer and he feels like he can’t breathe, inhales feeling heavier and his exhales being fewer that you have to put a hand on his chest to nudge him away from you, a pitiful look spanning across your eyes that makes him shut his.

“Kissing me harder isn't gonna help.”

His initials on your finger don’t magically turn more vibrant, more alive. He thinks he’s exhausted every single tear he could possibly cry but it’s seemingly not over, sobbing into his hands right in front of you.

“Why are you not freaked out that your mark's disappearing?! It's changing! I-it might not even be me anymore!””

Jungkook sobs brokenly when he used to not be able to even have his voice tremble at your presence. His shoulders hunch and give out and you have no choice but to catch him with your hands, fearing that he’d tumble out of the edge of your bed and fall on the floor.

“I thought you wanted this. I’m not consciously controlling this, Jungkook. It's just the same when you had no control of your mark not appearing on you."

His words haven’t left you but so is the remaining little love you have for him, knowing realistically that a single night of confrontation isn’t enough to undo years of loving.

“It's on me now. I-It's showing up on me, but it's disappearing from you."

His sobs wrack his own body and you think for a moment that he’s about to pass out with how much he coughs from getting choked up, springing more tears into his eyes as he feels like puking.

“You started to accept it when I started revoking it."

You mumble to yourself in realization and what pains him is that he’s heard it loud and clear, crumpling into your figure as you unconsciously realize that your hand soothes his back.

Jungkook cries the most in his lifetime, tucking his face into your shirt as he shakes his head back and forth like it was a nightmare he’s just forced to live out, words repeating over and over again.

“Don't shut me out."

He clings onto you more than he’s ever had.

Jungkook looks for you in everything and tries to weasel his way into every day that passes, not the least bit of embarrassment creeping up to him on how he looks like a fool every time you leave him hanging and alone.

He apologizes to you day and night until you grow tired of him; until you roll your eyes at him to give it a rest and just shut up at that point onwards.

He endures the hurt and the rejection you give him over and over again; not even going up to par with half of the hurt he’s unknowingly given you all this time.

Jungkook knows he’s flawed — but he’s certain that he’s not flawed enough to stop trying.

He wakes up to the morning light and goes to sleep at the evening glow with only the prayer that he becomes better, better enough to be deserving of you and better enough to be someone the universe would shift connections for.

He’s flawed, but not flawed enough to think that you owe him your love, regardless of his efforts.

The days are warmer and the gaps are fuller when there’s an incessant knocking on your door. The lights are softer and the nights are kinder when there’s a figure that wedges itself beside your bed, a quiet hum to his voice.

“I told you to start locking your doors.”

Jungkook feels the tiny exhale of breath that leaves you before it turns into a giggle, hugging your pillow closer.

“But it’s you.”

He smiles.

“But it’s me.”

Jungkook lies next to you a little closer, his arms bigger compared to the last months that he now manages to cage you fully and have his hands be able to cup yours without having to stretch further.

There’s nothing cool to the touch because nowadays, you let your ring finger breathe as much as he lets his own mark to be seen.

“There are three types of love, y’know?” he hums to your ear when he knows you’re just about to be lulled back to your sleep, able to see you clearly in the dark because no matter what light the both if you are underneath in, he only sees you.

“I was your first, right? Jimin's the second, I’m sure,” he breathily laughs, taking away the hair from your nape because he knows that it bothers you. “I can be the third. I-I can be your third love. I’ll work for it."

For only a second too long that it’s quiet, your voice cutting through the air.

“You can't be my third love, Jungkook,” you hum just as long as his heart stops beating. “You're my only love."

Your eyes are still closed when you silently profess the love that’s never left you, oblivious to how Jungkook is as stiff as concrete behind you that you feel his shoulders lose the hurt immediately. “I’ve loved you three times through."

Jungkook could only hope that it’s not the sleep talking.

He knows you’re real beyond anything and anyone. You’re tangible and fragile and he’s come to learn it a thousand times more. “I’ll love you three times more."

For the longest time on end did Jungkook feel that he’s been falling but the impact never comes. He would’ve wanted to feel it either way, but either way, he’d know that it would be fine. That he would be fine. That the two of you will be fine and it’s you who he entrusts to spend all of his infinites with, no matter the hurt.

“I love you more than you'll ever know.”

This baby Jungkook is so cute 😭😭. I can't. My heart is gonna blust.

Empty Space (01) | JJK

Pairing: Jungkook x (f.) Reader

Genre/Tags: undercover Police Officer Jungkook; angst, smut

Warnings: Blood and injury, minor character death, mentions of drug dealing, mentions of a raid, mentions of break-ins, stalking (nothing too intense), foul language, explicity sexual content (oral, unprotected penetrative sex [please be safe!]), sex dreams, sort of ex-fwbs, police officer kink (18+)

Word count: 8.3k (twc: 19.7k)

Summary: It started as friendship, turned to a casual fuck, then ended in heartbreak. Turns out, he wasn’t who he said he was, and years later he enters your life again, forcing you to face all the emotions you’d been trying to bury. 

OR Officer Jeon looks really hot in his uniform and you wish you didn’t hate him as much as you do.

A/N: I wanted to write a cop au bc I’ve been thirsting for police officer jk but my brain had to make it angst, too. So please enjoy (although my coochie may have written some parts of this fic).

Part 01, Part 02 (completed)

##

Rough hands pull you down as your soft ones grip his shoulders, half crescent moons etching their marks, and you know that adds to his pleasure. So do your moans, and your pleas for him to go harder, faster, which he does. His hips meet yours - upward in contrast to your push down south. It’s how he likes to finish - looking up at your fucked out face, beads of sweat decorating the wrinkles on your forehead as you chase your high, mouth parted, repeating his name like a mantra. 

“You’re so beautiful like this, fuck,” he moans, voice so hoarse and he looks as fucked out as you. This is how you like to finish, too - admiring the half-lidded eyes of the man writhing below you, bunny teeth biting his bottom lip and even in the dark, in this angle, you can make out the tiny mole that sits underneath. God, he looks so perfect. 

You end the night like this - limbs intertwined, chests heaving, soft laughter escaping you; he’s a charmer that way. Backs laying flat on the bed now, he turns to look at you with such longing in his eyes, a different kind this time, and you take it for something else - hope. 

“Be with me,” you say. 

Silence.

You see the fearful look in his eyes - or is that regret? Guilt? And then…

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I just want to write something. But I don't have the motivation :(

Wishing for you; 01 | jjk

➝ Pairing: jungkook x f.reader

➝ Genre: smut, fluff, angst, established relationship, slice of life, domestic

➝ Word count: 12k

➝ Warnings: strong language, sexual content, mentions of infertility, pregnancy talk, penetrative sex, fingering, mild dirty talk

➝ Summary: you and your husband decide to finally start trying for a baby. It should be easy enough, you thought. But it turns out getting pregnant is a lot harder than you expected.

A/N: I just wanted to write something fluffy and it turned into this…which will consist of two parts. also this is my first time writing smut so please be kind asfhkk. I didn’t have time to edit this so pls ignore any little mistakes, I’ll edit it as soon as I can. anyway, let me know what you think :)

| 01 | 02 |

“Think it worked?” he asks, still a little breathless.

“I don’t know,” you smile, meeting his gaze, “maybe.”

He pulls you closer into his side, embracing you in a warm hug. “I think so. How hard can it be?”

How hard can it be?

You simply close your eyes as you rest your head comfortably on his bare chest, drifting off into sleep. Silently praying for what your heart longs for the most.

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Are you going to Stay?

(Fuckboy! Jungkook x Reader) (Idol au) (Soulmate Au)

Summary: It’s been a year since he last saw you, and every day he misses you more. It was only a matter of time until he turned up at your door asking for another chance.

Tags: angst with a happy ending, best friends to lovers, Themes of unhealthy coping mechanisms, sexual tension, emotional intimacy, physical intimacy, brief sexual scenes, Jungkook really loves the reader’s thighs, Touch starved Jungkook, Mentions of hookups, talks of love languages, alcohol mention, Jungkook is intoxicated for most of this.

W/c: 6.4k

Song rec: Jk- Still with you 

A/N: there is a lot of time jumps in this where Jungkook is thinking through his memories while drunk, so if it sounds confusing that’s the point. this is really near and dear to my heart- I wrote the bulk of this in one hour after listening to jungkook’s song still with you. it is directly inspired by that song. A lot of the dialogue in this story is based on things that have been said to me or I’ve said to others- so yeah- hope you like this self-indulgent story! 

“Of course I’ll never turn you away- but…do me a favor Jungkook, and don’t come back until you’ve decided what you want from me.”

One year. It’s been a little more than one year since he’s seen you and still- the last words you said to him haunt him as he walks through the rainy streets of Seoul. His fellow strangers on the sidewalk giving him a few weird looks for not having an umbrella.

He pulls up his facemask a little more, the bucket hat soaked through to his hair. The cold rain feels good against the back of his neck- the contact startling. Maybe Jungkook’s just too touch starved to make the right choices right now. Maybe its because he only wants someone to touch him if it’s you.

It didn’t always use to be that way. before he’d met you; he’d regularly needed a more sexual outlet for all his frustration, excess energy, and stress. It was healthy right? To need that? To want a connection without any strings in his line of work. 

Jungkook is a truthful person, and he stays that way by only ever lying to himself.  

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