What The Fire Gave Us (2) | Jjk

what the fire gave us (2) | jjk

You were born with a Gift that the world wanted to turn into a weapon. All Jungkook wanted to do was show you that you could find love, even in the dark.

🔥 pairing: shadow elemental!jungkook x water elemental!(f)reader

🔥 rating/genre: BTS | 18+ | dystopian | supernatural | friends to lovers | angst | smut | fluff

🔥 part of a spring offering collab

🔥 wc/date: 16.3k | june 2023

🔥 warnings: major character death (not jk or reader), minor character death, murder, unrequited love (not between reader & jk), reference to human experimentation (nothing is described in detail), persecution of supernatural people, mentions past war, blood, injuries/violence, they all definitely have ptsd, jungkook is a precious baby boy but he’ll also kick your ass, JESSI !!!!!! JESSI STANS RISE UP !! JESSI IS THE COMEDIC RELIEF !!! (at least, i find her funny), reader & jk are virgins and confused lol, unprotected vaginal sex, vaginal fingering, cunnilingus, outdoor sex

🔥 notes: PLEASE, FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, READ THE WARNINGS. i hope you enjoy the final part of wtfgu! i'm sorry for the sad start, but i promise things get better at the end~ also, fun fact, taehyung's character is based off of jeff goldblum 😂

🔥 main masterlist / part one

🔥 what was jai listening to? magic shop - bts (because i like to hurt my own feelings)

moodboard credit: @btscontentenjoyer

5 MONTHS

Later, when you look back on this time in your life, you’ll see that everything that transpired during those precious months at the warehouse led up to this. 

At the moment, though, you don’t see anything but the beginnings of spring attempting to sprout from the hard winter earth. 

You sit on the roof atop the old milkcrate with your elbows on your knees. Your eyes follow a small butterfly floating through the light breeze. It’s quiet, just like any other day. 

Yoongi, Jessi, and Namjoon are inside, preparing for the trip you all will make through the woods to the Commune. Hoseok and Jungkook are somewhere at the perimeter of the woods, gathering whatever they can as food for the trip. 

You’ve learned that there is a runaway at the Commune whose Gift allows them to disguise the Commune, similar to Jungkook’s Gift of optical illusion through shadows. Except this Gifted can alter reality, bend the shape of time and space to make the Commune simply…. disappear to anyone they don’t want to find it. 

It sounds otherworldly, something you can hardly wrap your head around, but you must remind yourself that before your Gift had revealed itself to you, you had never believed in the supernatural or fantasy. Now you were everything a younger version of you couldn’t have begun to believe. 

A tiny part of you had been worried that you would get nervous, but you find you can’t sit still from the enthusiasm building up energy in your body to the point you might explode. It’s exciting, the knowledge that in a few short days, you won’t have to sit on top of this roof with your bow and fear that has seemed to make its home deep inside your chest. 

Soon you’ll be safe. 

You hold your breath as the butterfly gently flutters toward you. With a slight dip in its flight, the beautiful insect descends until it rests on your shoe. You’re pretty sure you learned somewhere that butterflies shouldn’t be touched, but you want to run your finger along its wings so badly. 

Just before you can touch it, a scream rings out, echoing against the warehouse and reverberating across the industrial park's empty fields and parking lots. Crows take off into the sky, their cawing harmonizing with the shouts coming from behind you. 

With your heart beating in your throat, you stand and run to the other side of the roof toward the woods. 

“RUN! Y/N, FUCKING RUN!” 

You just barely catch a glimpse of Jungkook’s face as he sprints out of the woods before suddenly disappearing. Your blood becomes ice, piercing your veins as it glides through your body. Jungkook is a shadow now, you tell yourself. He didn’t really disappear.  

Hoseok stumbles out of the woods behind Jungkook, the wind at his feet enabling him to run across the field faster than an average human. 

At first, you think they’re just playing some silly game. Jungkook and Hoseok always mess around, pranking each other and playfighting. This seems like some elaborate joke until you watch Hoseok use his Gift to lift a giant chunk of concrete from the ground near the warehouse and throw it toward the woods. 

You watch with wide eyes as multiple masked men, wearing all black except for the blood-red insignia of the Republic on their chests, crash through the woods like a spring flood. 

Red Pin agents. 

They’re armed with guns, some still on their hips while others are holding them out in front of them as they swarm the warehouse's perimeter. 

One of the men tilts his head up, his dark eyes locking with yours before you drop to your knees to hide behind the protective barrier around the roof. 

You throw your bow over your arm and head so it rests across your chest and back and crawl as quickly as you can toward the trapdoor. 

Your limbs tremble so terribly that you miss the last few rungs of the ladder and fall flat on your back, knocking the wind out of you. With a gasp, you touch the back of your head and try to blink away the stars swarming your eyes. When you bring your hand back, your fingers are coated red. 

“Shit! Get up, Y/N. Get the fuck up!” 

A pair of strong hands squeeze your biceps, and once your vision clears, you see that it’s Jessi hauling you to your feet. There are grease streaks on her face. You wonder if they’re from…

“The radio,” you croak, your lungs still struggling to work properly. 

“It was fucking rigged,” she spits, “I don’t know how I couldn’t sense it. But it was.”

And now they are here to collect you - or kill you, you aren’t sure. 

Maybe they would spare Jungkook. He has a Rare Gift; they would be stupid to harm him. The rest of you, though? Common Gifts - although Jessi’s is Uncommon, but certainly not Rare.

You feel lightheaded, likely from the fall and blood loss as it trickles down the back of your neck. It’s thick and wet. The smell of iron floods your nostrils and makes your stomach curl inward. It doesn’t matter, though. Jessi throws your arm around her shoulders and practically drags you through the warehouse. 

Inside is a tornado. Namjoon and Hoseok are scrambling to gather as many supplies as they can. Luckily, many of the essential items are already packed, though Jessi quickly tosses out the radio from the duffle bag she flings over her shoulder. 

“Stupid piece of fucking military bullshit,” she grumbles, giving the item a harsh kick with her steel-toed boots. “Gonna get us all fucking killed.” 

Hoseok lets out a whine. “Please don’t say that.” 

His face is bright pink, and his hands shake while he shoves clothes, random notes, and anything else he can find into his duffle bag. 

“We need to get the fuck out of here,” Jessi growls in response. Her tone has Namjoon and Hoseok picking up the pace. 

Somewhere below you, likely on the first floor, you hear the sound of glass breaking. 

“Fuck,” Namjoon hisses. You don’t think you’ve ever heard him curse before, and in any other situation, you would have giggled. But right now, he looks so grim it makes all the hairs on your arms stand. “They’re inside.” 

The sound of shouting and boots slapping against the concrete floors gets louder the longer the four of you stare at each other. Even Jessi, with her commanding presence, seems to stand frozen in place. The shouting becomes easier to understand as death threats if your group refuses to cooperate and willingly turn yourselves in to the government. 

As if any of you would actually go back to the Labs. At least, not without a fight. 

“If we stand here, we are going to die.” Your voice trembles just barely above a whisper. It’s enough, though. 

Namjoon gives a curt nod and looks around the room you’re in - the room that was once your bedroom. Your little nest of blankets is in the corner, along with Jungkook’s and Jessi’s. The beds have been rifled through, likely by Namjoon and Hoseok collecting the warmest blankest to bring on the trip. 

“The window,” Hoseok finally says with a quiet hiss. The warehouse is relatively large, so it will take some time for the Red Pin agents to figure out which room you’re in. 

The four of you rush to the window and peer out of it. From what you can tell, there aren’t any Red Pin agents below. Even if there are, it would be a smaller number than is currently bulldozing through the warehouse. 

It’s a long drop, though. You’re on the third floor. 

“I’ll ease you down,” Hoseok insists. He props open the window and rests his hip against the wall. “Sit on the edge, with your feet out like that.” His fingers are delicate but firm as he positions Namjoon the way he needs him to be. Sweet Namjoon, willing to put his life in Hoseok’s hands and go first in case something terrible happens. 

Hoseok’s hands shake as he uses his Gift to slow Namjoon’s fall when the other man finally jumps from the window. 

Tears burn the corners of your eyes as you watch Jessi do the same as Namjoon. The two land on the ground roughly but without injury. Hoseok looks exhausted, likely from the pressure of not fucking up and less because of the exertion. 

“Come on,” he urges you as the Red Pin agents’ shouting gets louder. “They’re close.” 

You climb into the window, letting your legs dangle out the other side. Before Hoseok conjures a gentle breeze between his hands, you grab onto his wrist. Something is tugging at your chest; it has been since the moment you saw Hoseok and Jungkook escape from the woods. 

“Hobi,” you hope he hears the plead in your voice. “Where is Yoongi?” 

The way he grimaces shoots anxiety through you so severely that you feel your entire body jolt. 

“He and Jungkook are down there.”

“Down there…”

“Figh-”

Hoseok cuts himself off by letting out a shrill shriek when Jungkook suddenly materializes beside you. He has a deep gash on his cheek, blood pouring from the wound, coating his chin and neck deep red. His hair is matted and stands up on end, and there’s more blood all over his clothes, enough that you can’t tell if the blood is from him or someone else. 

“Get out,” he wheezes. When he grabs Hoseok’s arm, he leaves blotches of blood on his skin. “Hyung’s gonna blow it up.”

“Blow it up?” You hiss, twisting around to stare at Jungkook. 

It’s a mistake. 

His irises are dark and wide, so vast that his eyes are almost entirely black. It gives him a crazed look, like a wild animal backed into a corner with its teeth bared. 

What’s worse, it’s not just his eyes that are black. The veins in his neck are black like dark spiderwebs climbing up his throat and spreading down so far that it reaches the raised veins in the backs of his hands. He looks like he’s possessed, like the darkness of his Gift is consuming him whole. 

“Get out.” 

Before you can argue further, you feel Jungkook’s palm press between your shoulder blades, and suddenly you’re falling out of the window. 

When you open your eyes, you’re on the ground. Your upper body is propped up by Namjoon. His arms are wrapped around your torso, your back pulled against his chest to stabilize you. His chest rapidly raises and falls against you, but you hardly notice this. All you can focus on are the eyes staring back at you. 

“You okay, kid?”

Yoongi looks much like Jungkook. Blood is splattered across his face and staining his clothes. His faded pink hair is plastered to his sweat-drenched skin. He crouches beside you and Namjoon, one hand pressed into the grass to keep himself steady. 

From behind Yoongi, you can hear gunshots and screaming echoing through the warehouse. If Hell had a sound, you were sure it would be this. 

You try to turn to look at the building you’d just jumped from, but Yoongi grabs your chin. 

“Hey,” he lightly squeezes your cheeks. “As long as we’re together, you don’t gotta worry about anything. You remember that?” 

You nod once Yoongi drops his hand from your face. You try not to shiver when the air blows against your now wet skin; try not to think about how your skin is now stained with someone else’s blood. 

“Hyung!” 

Yoongi turns toward the warehouse. Now that he’s distracted, he can’t stop you from peering around him to get a look at the building that you’ve made your home for the past five months. 

What looks like black smoke furls around the building. From how the tendrils move like snakes through busted-out windows, you know it isn’t smoke but shadows. Through an open window, you watch one of the shadows slip around a Red Pin agent’s throat like a noose. It tightens and tightens, squeezing the man so hard his face turns purple and his eyes water. 

Before you can witness more, your view is again obscured by Yoongi. 

“Hyung!” 

Jungkook’s shout sounds more desperate than the first, and you feel your heart constrict at the pained edge of his tone. 

Yoongi must notice the desperation, as well, because he quickly grabs your hand. Fire swirls between his fingers as he presses his palm against yours. 

“Yoongi, please-”

“You need to listen to me.” 

He presses his hand against yours even harder, only letting up when you give in and summon little streams of water to intertwine with his fire. You don’t like how rushed your secret handshake feels.

“I need you to look after Jungkook. The kid’s stubborn as fuck, worse than you.”

“Why are you saying this?” 

Yoongi’s gives you a small smile, lifting his hand to swipe his thumb against your cheek. The blood there mixes with the tears you hadn’t realized you’re shedding. 

“Because it’s what I need you to do.” 

Taking your face in his hands, Yoongi pulls you close to kiss your forehead. You feel Namjoon lift you to your feet when Yoongi lets go. Hoseok had cushioned your fall from the window, but you’re weak from blood loss and the exhaustion that fear can instill in the bones. 

Before you can say anything more, Yoongi sprints toward the warehouse, disappearing through the backdoor and into the darkness that surrounds the building. 

“Namjoon, let me go!” You scream as your friend squeezes his arms around your waist to haul you toward the woods. Jessi and Hoseok wait for you there, hidden within the trees, as the sounds of fighting and death from the warehouse get louder. 

Your friend lets out a low grunt when you dig your heels into the ground, but he’s stronger than you, and the action only deters him for a moment. He lifts you a bit, practically carrying you. 

Namjoon only stops when a flash of bright red light turns the entire industrial park dark for a split second before a deafening crash rings through the air. Even though your feet aren’t on the ground, you can feel the ground shake with the explosion that busts all the windows out of the warehouse. The entire building bursts into flames, turning the walls black. Balls of fire fly out of the broken windows, igniting the grass below. 

You crumble to the ground once Namjoon reaches the woods.

“We have to go,” Hoseok pleads. When you look up at him, his cheeks are streaked with tear tracks, too. 

Turning back to the fiery scene across the field, you watch a dark spot slither from shadow to shadow in the grass until it merges with your own shadow beside you on the ground. You tremble when Jungkook wraps his arms around your shoulders. His body is still crawling with dark veins, and the whites of his eyes are now entirely black. 

“Where is he?”

You glare into Jungkook’s eyes and swallow down the fear they strike in your heart. Like black holes, ready to absorb anything unlucky enough to fall in their path. 

The frown Jungkook wears intensifies. 

“Jungkook. Where. Is. He.” 

Jungkook closes his eyes and shakes his head, jaw clamped shut so tightly you can see the muscles ripple under his skin. When he opens them again, black tears pour from his empty eyes.

It’s like all the air is sucked out of your lungs, like a punch to the throat. You’re breathing in as hard as you can, as fast as you can, but nothing’s staying. Everything is too cold. You can feel the blood crusting on your skin, the throb in the back of your head. Black ash falls from the sky, further obstructing your ability to breathe.

Everything is too much. 

“Get off of me.” 

You try wiggling out from Jungkook’s grasp, but he doesn’t let go. 

“We have to keep moving.” 

“Get the fuck off of me!” 

Jungkook lets you push him away. He leans back on his heels and watches you. Or, you think he is. It’s hard to tell where those black eyes look, but it doesn’t matter. 

“Yoongi,” you moan, sagging forward to dig your fingers into the ground. You rip tufts of grass until all that’s left is dirt. 

With closed fists, you beat into the now bare ground, over and over, until your knuckles split open, and Jungkook has to scoop you into his arms to stop you. Your fingers are raw and bloody, and you don’t feel any of it. Nothing at all. Just numb. Numbness spreads through your body like Jungkook’s black veins spread through his. 

None of this is real. 

“Jungkook,” you sob into the crook of his neck with your arms thrown around his shoulders. He holds you bridal style with one arm wrapped around your torso and the other under your legs. 

“I know.” 

“He’s coming back, right? How will he find us if we keep going?”

Jungkook tightens his hold on you, cradling you against his chest. You assume he’s following the group deeper into the woods, but your eyes are closed, and your face is buried in his neck. He smells like smoke and blood, but you all do now. 

“Jungkook, he’s coming back, right?”

A wet sob cuts through the otherwise quiet woods somewhere in front of you. You think it’s Hoseok, but you can’t tell. 

“This way,” Jessi whispers. 

There’s shuffling, then only the sound of feet crunching dead leaves and snapping twigs. Jungkook jostles you slightly to adjust his grip on you, murmuring gentle apologies every time he does. 

“How are you holding up?” This time it’s Namjoon. He sounds close, like he’s walking in line with Jungkook. 

“I can keep us hidden until we’re deeper in, but then I’ll have to stop,” Jungkook says through gritted teeth, as though he doesn’t want to admit what he must say next. “I’m exhausted.”

“Want me to carry-”

“No.”

Jungkook barks his response with an aggression you’ve never heard from him. He squeezes you, almost protectively close to his chest, as Namjoon assures him everything is fine. It’s hard to focus on the men’s hushed voices when you waver in and out of consciousness. 

Eventually, all you can see when your close your eyes is a flash of bright light, like fire engulfing your brain. 

And then everything goes black.

SHELTER #2

Hoseok's hands shake as he holds the flint rock in one and the steel knife in the other. Twigs snap beneath his boots as he adjusts his squat. Each fidget draws your attention despite your desire to keep your eyes off the sight of Hoseok struggling. 

After three failed attempts at creating a spark, Jessi quickly snatches the items from Hoseok’s grasp and kneels beside the fire pit. 

“You’re gonna fucking stab yourself,” she grumbles, though she, too, struggles the first few tries. Eventually, the little pile of tinder ignites, filling the circle of rocks you’d gathered with a hot fire whose heat licks at your ankles. 

Namjoon fists your jacket sleeve and drags you backward, nearly toppling you over and making the wet grass stain the butt of your pants a dark green. 

It rained today. You can’t help but wonder if it washed away the blood and soot from the warehouse or if more Red Pin agents will show up and find evidence of what happened there.  

“You’re sitting too close.” 

“I’m cold.” 

“You’re too close, Y/N.” 

You glare at Namjoon, opening your mouth to retort that you’re an adult who can take care of yourself when a sob cuts through the tension between you. 

Hoseok shudders with each heave of his shoulders, nearly folding in on himself, with his elbows on his knees and his palms pressed against his eyes. 

“Hyung,” Namjoon calls out; his voice barely registers over Hoseok’s crying. 

“It makes me think of him.” It’s all Hoseok says, all he needs to say. 

Namjoon and Jessi’s expressions crumple like Hoseok’s body in the dirt. You watch them lock eyes with each other, something silent and private passing between them. You don’t know why, but it pisses you off. It shouldn’t, though. 

Something dark and sick is growing inside you, this angry mass doubling in size every time someone cries for Yoongi. He was your best friend. He found you, saved you, and helped you see that there was more to life. The rest of them don’t get it. Yoongi didn’t mean to them what he meant to you. 

Attempting to hoard grief all to yourself isn’t fair to you or the rest of your group, but you want to do it anyway. You want to be selfish because you feel you deserve the right to hurt the most. The rest of them don’t get it. 

Rather than voice your frustration, you bite your bottom lip and dig your fingers into the dirt, winding up your whole body into a tight fist that’s not quite ready to spring but prepared all the same. If you let yourself loose, you know you’ll say something you shouldn’t – something you know you don’t actually mean and that you’ll regret, if not tomorrow, then ten years from now. Assuming you survive that long. 

For now, survival should be the only thing on your mind. 

The fire sputters slightly. A section of the tinder is wet from the morning’s rain. You hold out your hand, palm facing the sky, and wait. 

Hoseok’s sobs have subsided by the time you’ve drawn the moisture out of the wet wood. It sits in a small pool of water in your palm. A reckless part of you wants to plunge your hand into the fire, but you spread your fingers apart instead. The water falls through your fingers and soaks into the grass. 

The fire’s crackling overpowers the silence that blankets the four of you. Each of you stares deep into its flames, streaks of orange burning in your eyes. You wonder if Jungkook’s invisibility shield (“Optical illusion, guys.”) is strong enough to hide the fire. You’d never thought to ask if he can maintain the shield when he’s not even around. 

Twigs snapping in the distance make you reach for the knife sticking out of the ground beside you. Hoseok doesn’t seem concerned by the sound, but his sense of smell as the air carries it to him may be compromised from all the crying. His nose has been running since your group left the warehouse. 

You haven’t cried since you woke up inside the first abandoned shelter Taehyung mentioned would be on your path to the Commune. Even if you wanted to cry, you wouldn’t be able to. The part of your chest where the sobs should come from just feels empty. 

The rustling in the woods increases until you hear the sound of someone clearing their throat. 

Jungkook emerges from the darkness with a satchel – Yoongi’s satchel – thrown across his chest and a stone bowl in his arms.  

“Rabbit. I skinned them already. I thought you guys might not wanna see…” Jungkook trails off when his bright eyes fall on Hoseok’s tear-stained face. With a quiet sigh, he crouches beside the fire and slides the satchel off, handing it to Namjoon. 

“Fruits,” he mumbles, not looking in Namjoon’s direction once the older man takes the bag from him. Instead, and unsurprisingly, Jungkook’s eyes are on you. 

You look away. There’s too much in those eyes, full of constellations of stories you’re too weak to learn. Bending your knees, you draw your legs against your chest and hug them, returning your gaze to the fire while Jungkook prepares to cook the meat and Namjoon handles the other food. 

Yoongi asked you to look after Jungkook, but it’s he who has taken care of the group. Namjoon seems too busy fussing over Hoseok, and you know you aren’t any help. Jessi is the leader by default now that Yoongi isn’t here to take charge. She’s strong and has kept the group on a tight schedule. You know it’s her way of coping. There’s no time to lose herself in mourning if she charges ahead. Having an end goal gives her purpose. 

If only you knew what yours was. 

SHELTER #3

Your feet sink into the ground with each step you take. The sand feels soft between your toes as you wiggle them, watching the little black grains roll across your skin and make your toes disappear. Your steps halt just before you reach the water's edge, where bright orange waves lap at the black shore. The shore stretches in both directions, a black stripe for as far as you can see. A ghost of a memory tickles your brain. Jack-o'-lanterns lit by tealight candles, and the smell of cinnamon. 

Suddenly, the orange waves kick up in speed, crashing against the shore more violently. The force causes black sand to spray into the air. You can taste it in your mouth, feel it gritty against your teeth and harsh on your tongue. 

You try to lift your hands to cover your face, but you find that you can’t. They’re trapped to your sides by long vines that wrap around your wrists and dive deep into the sand, rooting you in place. You try to pull out of the vines’ grasp. Thorns dig into your skin so deeply that black blood oozes from the jagged puncture wounds the thorns leave behind. 

“Don’t struggle.” 

The voice brings stillness to the whirlwind of sand and the crash of waves. 

You already know who it is, but your body still feels surprised when Yoongi takes slow steps toward you from the other end of the shore. He’s dressed in a flowy white shirt and loose white pants. When you look down, you realize you’re matching. 

“What do I do?” 

Yoongi ignores your question. His fingers run along your forearm, his index finger dipping into one of the holes in your wrist, still dripping black blood. It doesn’t hurt, even though you know it should. 

Dark cat eyes examine the black that stains his fingers. After another silent minute, Yoongi wipes your blood on the front of his shirt. You don’t know why you’re worried that he’ll ruin it. 

“Jungkookie is here.” 

“What?” 

Yoongi walks toward the orange ocean. You scramble to keep up, but the sand grabs your ankles and pulls you back every time you step forward. 

“Yoongi! Wait for me!” 

“You don’t need me anymore. This is a good thing.” 

Your friend nods his head before stepping into the water. The moment his foot touches the orange waves, the entire ocean bursts into flames. 

“Yoongi!” You shriek, running as fast as possible, but the sand won’t let you go. It sucks you down until you’re up to your knees in the soft grains trapped in the hold of the shore. Your brain knows it’s hopeless, but your body keeps struggling even though Yoongi told you not to. 

Suddenly, you feel rough hands grab your arms, and you’re being pulled into the sand, the grains filling your mouth and nose until your lungs are full and you can’t breathe.

“Hey, hey, shhh, it’s okay.” 

Fingers trail along your hairline, dragging down the length of your face and tracing your jaw. Rather than cold sand, you feel something solid and warm wrap around your body. 

“Breathe. In and out, okay? Inhale… exhale… I got you. It’s okay. I got you.” 

As your body returns to you, you realize your face is pressed against smooth skin. You can taste salt on your lips, but no sand. When you blink, your eyelids feel heavy and wet. 

You’re crying. Sobbing, actually. 

“I miss him, too. So fucking much.” 

Jungkook is crying, too. His voice remains steady, though. He’s always so steady now. The shy, fumbling boy of the warehouse is no more. In the time since the Red Pin attack, Jungkook changed. You all did, but he seems to have changed the most. His eyes still hold the stars, but the darkness seems… deeper now. His aura has lost its boyishness. 

The abandoned building where your group has taken refuge is dark, only lit by the moonlight filtering through the slotted windows. You think it may have once been a cabin for a couple or small family. 

Jungkook cradles you in his lap. The two of you are wrapped in thick blankets, cocooned away from the world. 

“I’m sorry,” you whisper. 

Jessi is asleep in the corner of the room, while Namjoon and Hoseok have made their beds in the room across the hall. You’re all accustomed to loud noises at night. Nearly all of you have suffered from night terrors at some point. 

“It’s okay. You’ve had to listen to me cry in my sleep, too,” Jungkook points out with a small smile. 

It’s a breathtaking smile. Jungkook’s cheeks shine with fresh tears, but his bunny teeth poke out, and his eyes crease with the sincerity in that smile. It warms the empty parts of your chest – like hot tea poured into a cool mug. Perhaps the odd feeling in your stomach is similar to the bubble of water boiling. 

“You’re cute when you cry. I’m an ugly crier,” you sniff. It’s stupid to say, but you don’t want to think about how sad you all are. 

“No, you’re not.”

“Yes, I am. All the boogers and the dumb faces I make.” 

Jungkook shakes his head. His hair is getting long again. 

“I think you’re beautiful.” 

“Don’t lie,” you try to joke, but your voice comes out small and unsure rather than teasing. 

“I would never lie to you.” 

As if to seal the promise, Jungkook presses his lips against your forehead in a kiss. Your fingers ache from how tightly you squeeze the fabric of his shirt into your fists. 

Every day you trudge through the woods in search of the Commune, and every day you live in fear of the Red Pins finding you once again. But being in Jungkook’s lap, face nuzzling the crook of his neck, his strong arms holding you against his chest… It’s the only time you genuinely feel safe. 

SHELTER #4

“When was the last time,” Jungkook pauses to pull his shirt over his head, “you took a bath?” 

Your eyes roam the expanse of his broad chest, the dips and valleys of his abdomen, and the sparse dark hairs disappearing into the waistband of his pants. You’ve seen Jungkook shirtless before. It’s a treat every time, although you feel a twinge of guilt from looking now. Running along his ribcage is an extended cut, red with scabs. Jessi did her best to stitch Jungkook up with whatever she had in the supplies Namjoon and Hoseok snatched before you fled the warehouse. It’s a pretty nasty wound, but it seems to be healing well. Part of you wonders if exposing it to lake water is a good idea, but you keep the thought to yourself. Jungkook is tired of everyone babying him. He hasn’t told you as much, but you can tell.    

“I’m too ashamed to answer that question.” 

“You and me both,” Jungkook snorts. 

He removes the harness strapped around his thigh, taking the large knife off along with it. After the Red Pin attack, you now know how pointless it is to carry any weapon other than a gun. However, none of you have guns, though you still believe your Gifts are better than any human-made weaponry. 

“Too bad we don’t have, like, soap and shit,” you grumble, stomping a cluster of wild mushrooms growing along the bank of the lake you’d found. 

Jungkook’s tattooed fingers play with his belt buckle while his big, brown eyes flit up to meet yours. 

“Sorry!” You rush to apologize and turn your back to him. Heat creeps up your neck, spreading across your cheeks and biting at your ears' tips. 

Your discomfort worsens when you hear a quiet chuckle rumble from Jungkook. There’s the rustle of clothes and, soon after, a light splash that tells you he has eased himself into the lake. 

“You’re good.” 

When you turn around, Jungkook isn’t facing you. He dips his head back to wet his hair, running his fingers through it a few times before righting himself again, still facing away from you. The water reaches his lower back when he’s standing, but you can tell he is crouching slightly because the gentle waves lap higher up on his back. It’s not dirty water since the lake has a fresh stream feeding it, which ensures that the water isn’t stagnant, but it’s murky enough from the plants growing at the bottom that you can’t make out the rest of Jungkook’s body. Not that you want to, considering he’s naked. 

Thankful for the privacy, you quickly strip out of your clothes and step into the water. You keep a respectful distance between you, choosing not to drift too far into deeper water. You much prefer to at least touch the sandy bottom with your tiptoes. 

Slipping deep enough that only your head remains above water, you watch Jungkook as he uses an old rag to scrub his arms. You’re both disgustingly grimy. 

“Lucky we found this place,” you think aloud as you begin to work on scrubbing down yourself, as well. 

“We are.” 

“Jungkook. You can look now.” 

His head snaps up, gaze locking with yours for a split second before he averts his eyes again. You’re close enough to see pink bloom across his face. 

You clear your throat to fill the silence when he says nothing. Part of you thought it might spur him to talk, but the tension between you remains. 

You’re not sure when it first developed. Part of you knows it has always been there, perhaps dormant or less noticeable. Much of it falls back on Jungkook’s behavior, you think as you watch him slide the rag down his chest. The tension has always lived in the dark expanse of his eyes and how he searches for you, always you, maybe without even realizing it himself. It’s gotten worse since you’ve started waking up every morning wrapped in his arms and nuzzling his neck. 

“What’s the first thing you want to do when we get to the Commune?” Jungkook finally speaks. When he does, you force yourself to drop your gaze, focusing intently on continuing to wash yourself to the best of your ability with the lack of soap.

“Eat food that isn’t rabbit, hopefully.” 

“Hey!” 

A giant splash of water hits you in the face. You gasp, rushing to wipe away the droplets clinging to your eyelashes. 

“F–fuck you!” You sputter. 

“It’s not my fault rabbits are the easiest things to catch around here. I’m doing my best!” 

Another splash slaps into you. It isn’t hard enough to sting, but it’s a splash all the same. 

“You’re real dumb if you think you can start a splashing war with someone who has a water Gift,” you challenge. 

“I’m not scared of you,” Jungkook sticks out his tongue after he challenges you. 

All it takes is a flick of your wrist and a wave higher than most nearby trees descend on Jungkook. It doesn’t ever reach him, though. The sheer panic that contorts his face is enough to warm your body with evil satisfaction. You gently let the wave descend into the lake, barely kicking up enough to splash Jungkook against the chest. 

“I showed you mercy. You’re welcome, young man.” 

Jungkook lets out a loud snort, eyes rolling into the back of his head in defiance. “You’re insane.” 

“You provoke me.” 

You don’t like how high his eyebrows arch, unable to decipher what an expression like that is supposed to mean. 

“I provoke you? In what way?” 

You narrow your eyes at him. “You literally did it just now.” 

Jungkook straightens up a little. The action makes more of his torso rise from the water. You can’t help but drop your eyes to the water level that has fallen so dangerously low on his hips. 

When your gaze finally returns to his face, Jungkook is wearing an exaggerated pout. 

“I’m innocent.” 

“Pfft,” you scoff. 

By this point, your fingers are starting to get wrinkly, and the position you’re standing in to ensure your whole body is covered in the water is becoming uncomfortable. You’re just about to tell Jungkook that you’re done playing games – that the two of you need to hurry up before the rest of your group gets worried about you being gone for too long – when the man disappears. 

“Oh my god, Jungkook-ah, why?” 

Your eyes dart around the lake, eyeing each shadow suspiciously. You don’t think you see Jungkook’s actual body underwater, so all you can guess is that he’s doing his creepy crawly shadow-walking just to bother you. 

“This is doing the exact opposite of proving that you’re innoce–” You interrupt yourself with a loud gasp when you feel fingers squeeze your bare hips. 

“Boo,” Jungkook deadpans, but his face quickly cracks into a smile. 

You want to laugh at yourself for being so easily startled, to match Jungkook’s joyfulness, but all you can focus on is the feeling of his fingertips pressing into your skin. 

“Jungkook…” 

“Hm?” 

He’s absentminded as his gaze drops down to stare at your lips. You automatically lick them, almost on instinct, unable to stop yourself. Jungkook follows your lead, though he pulls his bottom lip between his teeth instead of settling his face. If that action didn’t already make your stomach twist into a knot, the darkness of Jungkook’s gaze does. 

“I…” Jungkook rubs slow circles into your hips with his thumbs, following the curve of your hip bone and effectively interrupting your thoughts. 

You don’t know who leans in first, but it doesn’t really matter. The moment Jungkook’s lips connect with yours, it’s as though your brain completely empties. 

It’s a hesitant kiss, just a light press of Jungkook’s closed mouth against yours. He grows bolder when you don’t pull away, parting his lips slightly. He nibbles at your bottom lip, prompting you to part yours as well, allowing him to slot your lips together. 

You bring your hands up to squeeze Jungkook’s biceps, coaxing a slight whine from him when your nails lightly dig into his skin. The sound is gentle but needy, making your skin prickle with goosebumps. You’ve never heard Jungkook sound like that, never heard anyone sound like that. 

You’ve never even kissed anyone before. 

It’s not what you expected, though you haven’t spent much time thinking about physical intimacy. Being trapped in the Labs, it never seemed like something you’d have the privilege of exploring. Once you escaped, there was only one person you ever thought about being intimate with – and even then, it was far more wholesome than this, you now realize. This… is different. 

Jungkook trembles, and you feel his hands flex against your hips as he tilts his head to the side, deepening the kiss. 

A few times, the two of you fumble, noses bumping into each other and teeth nipping a bit too hard. It makes you wonder if this is Jungkook’s first kiss, too. You decide it doesn’t matter if it is. It’s warm and soft, and Jungkook tastes sweet, like the berries Hoseok picked earlier today. You’re dizzy; Jungkook stealing the air from your lungs. Your body screams for you to pull away, but you cling to him tighter.  

Something firm brushing against your inner thigh brings you back to reality. You nearly jump out of Jungkook’s grasp, chest heaving and fingers trembling beneath the water. 

“I’m sorry,” Jungkook hurries to speak before you do. 

Before you can say anything in return – though you’re not sure what you want to say – Jungkook is gone. All that’s left are his clothes still neatly folded on the grass beside the lake and a thrum of excitement beating through your body to the tune of guilt and shame. 

Kissing Jungkook felt good. And that is why it can never happen again.  

SHELTER #5

If you ever told Jessi that you see her as a mother figure, she would probably kill you. You consider this as she wields a machete, hacking away at the brush that blocks your path as you continue toward the Commune. The muscles in her bicep and shoulders flex with each swing. It’s sexy and terrifying, and you can only admire her strength when the rest of your group is floundering. 

The guys trail behind, practically dragging their feet. It’s Jungkook’s fault (and maybe yours, but you won’t think about that). 

Ever since the kiss, Jungkook has avoided you. You haven’t interacted with each other in days, aside from the cuddles you share at night when nightmares overtake you. 

Hoseok and Namjoon have also noticed the shift in his behavior, though they believe it’s grief causing him to distance himself from the group. They hang back, letting you and Jessi march forward, so they can talk and do whatever boys do to cheer each other up when the world is falling apart. 

You try not to think about it too much, but Jessi and her motherly instincts don’t let you know peace. 

“Yoongi wouldn’t want us to be so fucking sad all the time.” Jessi lets out a grunt as she hacks at a particularly thick tree branch blocking your path. “If he was here right now, he’d kick all of our asses with a quickness.” 

She’s right; it goes without saying. 

Letting her arm fall to her side, Jessi uses her free hand to wipe away the sweat that collects on her forehead and drips down the side of her face. She looks at you like she’s waiting for you to do something. The expression makes you feel uneasy. 

“What?”

“Did you even hear the shit I was saying?”

“Yes.” 

“Okay then, what’re you gonna do about it?”

You scrunch your eyebrows together. “About what?” 

Jessi lets out a frustrated huff and again brings the machete down on the tree branch. It splinters and breaks, providing enough weakness for Jessi to stomp down on it with a steel-toed boot. 

“Did you and Jungkook fuck?” 

“What?!” 

When you gasp, you’re sure you inhale a bug, sucking it right down your throat and probably into your fucking lungs for all you know. It sparks a terrible coughing fit that makes Jessi pause to slap you between the shoulder blades a few times. 

“Why–” you heave, tears in your eyes, “why would you think that?” 

Jessi pushes forward through the forest brush with a roll of her eyes. 

“It’s obvious there’s something going on. The poor boy’s moping around after you like a lovesick puppy. Even worse than usual.” 

If you weren’t already sweating your ass off, you would be heating up from Jessi’s astute observations. 

“I don’t know what you're–” 

“Aish, fucking save it, babe,” Jessi interrupts you with a wave of the hand that isn’t holding the machete. “All I’m trying to say is that it’s okay to feel good. Life is fucked as it is. Stop ruining good things for yourself and live as best as you can in the circumstances we got, alright?” 

She gives you a stern look from the side, a look that you quickly try to avoid by ducking your head down. Suddenly, the ground is fascinating. 

“I’m fine.” 

“Right, and I don’t have a fat ass.” 

“Really!” You insist. The desperation in your voice is pathetic and telling. 

“Yoongi would want you to live, hun. I know he would. And you wanna know how I know?”

There isn’t a need to say anything; once Jessi has her mind set on something, she sees it through until the end. 

“There wasn’t a fox in the woods. It was a Red Pin scout.” She gives you a pointed look. “But ignorance is bliss, and he wanted you to be happy. He wanted you to live without more fear, so he didn’t tell you. So do whatever you need to do to fix things with Jungkook and be fucking happy.” 

You fall behind as Jessi speeds up, the path much clearer now than it had been just a few feet before. The guys are still meandering further back, so you fall somewhere in the middle, close enough to see everyone at either end but far enough that you can be alone with your thoughts without interruption. 

Jessi is right, but it feels wrong to let yourself feel good. How can you be happy when Yoongi isn’t here? There is a bit of survivor’s guilt clutching at your heart, but most of your struggle is from the pain of simply not having Yoongi around. Being happy feels like it would be a betrayal of some kind. 

Yoongi would disagree. He would give you that gummy smile and poke you in the ribs until you cry, and then he would tell you that you’re being an idiot. 

With a sigh, you break into a light jog to catch up with Jessi, Yoongi’s voice echoing for the millionth time in your head. 

You and Jungkook.

COMFORT

You are ashamed to admit that you take longer to apologize to Jungkook than Yoongi took to apologize you to. 

In fact, you never apologize to Jungkook before your group makes it to the Commune. It never seemed like the right opportunity came. There was always someone else around, or Jungkook looked exceptionally sad, or you told yourself you would say something once he woke up but got caught up watching how beautiful he looks when he sleeps cuddled against you every night. 

It’s always tomorrow, tomorrow, tomorrow. The thing about tomorrow is that it always comes until it doesn’t. 

And then suddenly, you’re all stumbling into a clearing in the woods that leads to what looks like a hole in the trees, and there is magic dancing in your bones that pulls your thoughts away from anything but the man who stands to greet you.

Kim Taehyung is not what you expected from the leader of a notorious Gifted runaway commune that has evaded the authorities for years. Admittedly, you had few expectations – too busy worrying about surviving the trek to think about what the man would look like when he finally greeted you. Still, it’s a lot to process. 

“Welcome, my little Gifts!” 

The lithe man stretches his long arms out as wide as his wingspan will let him. Your group exchanges looks when Taehyung doesn’t move, his eyebrows arched as he waits. 

The six of you stand at the Commune entrance, marked by two trees manipulated into forming a magical-looking arch. Large flower bushes and more trees flank the arch, hiding whatever may lie within the Commune. Try as you might, as you peer over Jessi’s shoulder, you can’t see through the thicket. 

Taehyung lets out a quiet sigh, but his arms don’t seem to tire. He wiggles his fingers as though he’s beckoning you into his arms. The movements, although small, make the numerous gold bracelets that line his wrists clink together like wind chimes. He wears loose slacks and an oversized white silk shirt. A knitted shawl with intricate patterns stitched into it in earth tones hangs over his broad shoulders. The tassels sway in the wind. You don’t know how, but he smells like summer. 

“Do you not seek comfort?”

A loud whimper erupts from the middle of your huddle, and suddenly Jungkook pushes past Jessi and Namjoon. He stumbles the few steps it takes to reach Taehyung. 

“Jungkook-ah,” Jessi whisper-yells, but it’s too late. Jungkook has his face buried in Taehyung’s chest, a sob tearing through his body. 

“Shhh, my little Gift, you are home.” 

Taehyung keeps his eyebrows arched, giving the rest of your group a pointed look. It takes hardly a second before Hoseok follows Jungkook, launching himself into Taehyung’s embrace with such power you’re shocked the Commune leader manages to stay upright. Hoseok’s cries harmonize with Jungkook’s until Namjoon eventually joins. 

Never one to open up about sadness, Jessi stares down the Commune leader with a challenging look that would make the bravest soldiers shit themselves – and yet Taehyung merely smiles the strangest, most charming smile you’ve ever seen. 

Before you know it, you’re standing alone because Jessi has a singular tear sliding down her round cheek, and Taehyung has one arm curling her against his chest, too. 

Comfort. 

It’s funny, isn’t it? Funny that we want it, crave it, even from a complete stranger. Comfort provides no solution to our problems and is even sometimes used to avoid problems altogether. You have known little comfort since Jungkook carried you away from the warehouse.  

Okay then, what’re you gonna do about it?

You meet Jessi’s gaze, and the realization hits you that this is the first time you’ve seen her cry. 

“Be happy, Y/N.” If Jessi speaks out loud, you can’t hear her but can read her mouth clearly. 

It’s like something shatters in your chest. It’s shocking; you were convinced nothing was left inside to break. But when Taehyung finally lowers both arms to wrap them around your group – yourself included – no pain or sadness plagues your heart. You feel strangely at peace. Taehyung’s summer scent envelopes you. It’s freshly-cut grass, sea salt, and cherry blossoms. Warmth spreads from the man, what you imagine it feels like to be a plant absorbing nutrients from the sun. 

“Thank you for trusting me,” Taehyung speaks softly. “This is my Gift, and it makes my heart happy to share it with you today.” 

You remember that Taehyung is a healer Gifted when he gently extricates himself from what became a group hug that lasted for eternity. 

“Are we feeling better now?” 

You all find yourselves nodding. Taehyung beams at that. He claps his hands together, startling Hoseok into a small giggle. 

“Wonderful!” Taehyung turns on his heel, his shawl billowing out behind him as he swiftly crosses the archway. “Now, come with me. We have many things to take care of!” 

Your group hurries to keep up with the man who’s all legs. Beyond the arch, the Commune is more like a small village than whatever tent city you’d expected. Little houses similar to the abandoned ones your group found refuge in on the way here line the dirt paths – except these are full of life. Odd markings are painted on the brick and concrete buildings, all in the bright colors of summer: sunny yellows, healthy greens, and vibrant pinks. 

You notice that in the doorway of every building is a small basket, sometimes more than one, resting on the ground. Some are full of items you can’t quite make out because Taehyung is walking so quickly that you don’t have time to peek into any of them. 

“I can’t quite remember how many there are of us,” Taehyung says over his shoulder as he leads you down a road lined with shops. There’s clothing, produce, and other wares for sale. You feel embarrassed by how your mouth waters simply from seeing an apple. “I would say at least three hundred, but Seokjin hyung would know better. He’s the brains of all this. I’m merely the handsome face of the operation.” 

“Yah, I heard that, Kim Taehyung!” 

“Oh, so you heard me singing your praises, hyung?” 

Taehyung leads you to what you guess is the center of the Commune by the way the buildings form a half circle around a grassy quad. In the middle of the quad, there is a large pile of tinder – tree branches, dead grass and hay, planks of wood, and other items stacked on top of each other to build what will most likely be a giant bonfire from the looks of it. 

The man known as Seokjin approaches your group just to shove Taehyung’s shoulder with his own. “I am both the brains and the beauty, thank you very much. You can be second-best.” 

“You’re demoting me? In front of our new friends?” Taehyung pouts. 

Seokjin twists his broad torso to get a good look at your ragtag team of misfits. Facing this new man’s beauty head-on, you are quickly reminded of how disgusting you all probably look and smell, having fought through the woods for weeks without even a proper bath. 

Even though you all look like hell, Seokjin beams just as Taehyung had. 

“Oh good, you didn’t run away!” 

You feel Jessi tense beside you. “Why the fuck would we run away?” 

“Taehyung is insufferable, that’s why.” 

“Hey!” The leader shoves his friend much harder than his friend had shoved him. “You’re so grumpy. Do you need a hug?” 

Seokjin swats at Taehyung. “Don’t you have things to do? Summer is here soon. Go make daisy chains or something. Jimin and I will take care of our new friends.”

“Daisy chains?” You blurt out in question as Taehyung wiggles his fingers at your group in a goodbye. In the blink of an eye, he’s gone, disappearing into the crowds of people going about their day in the Commune. You’ve never seen so many Gifteds, free and all together, in your life.  

Seokjin hums, beckoning your group to follow him deeper into the Commune. 

“In a few days, it will be the First of Summer. I assume you all have never celebrated Summer?” 

You find it odd that Seokjin speaks of the season as though it’s a holiday. When no one responds, he lets out a long sigh. 

“You’ve missed out on so much, trapped like lab rats.” He spits the end of his sentence. It’s in anger at the research facilities rather than a judgment of you, but it makes your heart sting just the same. You wish Taehyung was here. 

Leading you to a three-story building that looks similar to a warehouse or an office building, with plain concrete walls decorated with more colorful markings, Seokjin pauses to let your group enter the front door first. 

“This is my home,” Seokjin welcomes your group. “My husband and I sleep on the first floor, but there are a few empty guest rooms on the second and third. Newcomers tend to stay with us until we’ve built them their own homes.” 

“That’s so generous of you, Seokjin,” Hoseok speaks up for the first time. The crackle in his voice tells you he's still on the verge of tears, but he smiles when you turn to look at him. 

“Please, call me hyung if you’d like.” Seokjin smiles. 

Taehyung and Seokjin’s use of honorifics warms your heart, even though you don’t have the same emotional attachment to the custom as the others. When you look out of the corner of your eye, you see Jungkook smile at the honorific, too. 

“We’ll get your rooms situated, but first, are you hungry?” 

“Fuck yes,” Jessi groans.

The group and Seokjin laugh when you ask, “Do you have anything besides rabbit?” 

In the kitchen, your group meets Seokjin’s husband, Jimin, a fire Gifted. When Jimin pulls you into a tight hug, tears prickle in the corners of your eyes because his body burns, and he smells faintly of smoke, just like Yoongi. 

While chomping away at fresh vegetables and meat that isn’t rabbit, you learn that Seokjin is the legendary cosmic Gifted you only half-heartedly believed to be real. His ability to bend time and space wipes the Commune off the radar, ensuring the Red Pins never find it. Despite his large personality, he seems too shy to demonstrate his Gift, even as Jimin pesters him. 

They’re cute, Seokjin and Jimin. They fuss over your group as though they are your parents, making sure that you each get a turn taking a shower and that you have enough blankets and pillows in your bedrooms. Hoseok, Namjoon, and Jungkook share one, while you and Jessi share another. Jimin apologizes profusely about not being able to provide you with your own bedrooms, which you all dismiss. 

“We anticipate a few additional newcomers soon; I’m so sorry we don’t have enough room to spread out,” Jimin bemoans as he plays with his fingers. 

“Are you kidding?” Namjoon teases with a smile that crinkles his eyes. “We’ve been living in an abandoned warehouse for months.” 

“Sleeping on the floor gave me fucking arthritis, and I’m barely thirty,” Jessi chimes in.

“That’s not how that works.” 

“Fuck off, Jungkook-ah. Tell that to my broken back.” 

Jimin looks appalled by your previous living situation, making your group joke around more. Laugh through the pain, right? It’s a coping mechanism you’ve all done a decent job of perfecting. Sometimes being alive is enough to laugh about because, well, at least you’re alive. 

After a whirlwind of a day getting settled into Seokjin and Jimin’s home, you can finally ease your bones into a real bed with a thick, fluffy mattress and clean sheets. Your tummy is full of delicious food, your body clean and well-moisturized thanks to Jimin’s homemade skincare products, and you finally allow yourself to sink into the one thing you’ve been scared to find: comfort. 

Just before sleep overtakes you, you hear a quiet, almost timid, knock at the door. You wrack your brain, thinking about who it could be and why they need you. It feels like too much effort to get out of bed when you’ve only just been able to relax, so you call out to the person on the other side of the door. 

“Hi.” 

Jungkook’s wide eyes peer at you through the dark, a sliver of moonlight peeking through the window blinds highlighting parts of his face. 

“Hi,” you say, pausing to quietly clear your throat. “What’s up?”

“Can’t sleep.”

Your heart feels like it will fly out of your chest when Jungkook hesitantly steps into your bedroom. You watch him eye Jessi’s sleeping form in the bed on the opposite side of the room, perhaps weighing the pros and cons of being in the room if she wakes up. 

Apparently accepting the risk, Jungkook scurries over to stand beside your bed. 

“Can I sleep with you?” 

It’s the most Jungkook has spoken to you since he fled the lake. His request shouldn’t make your stomach flip with nerves; you’ve cuddled together every night since your first nightmare about Yoongi. So it should be easy when you respond, 

“Of course.” 

You quickly scoot over to give Jungkook room when he slips beneath the sheets. 

“Thank you,” he whispers into the dark. 

Holding out your arms, you encourage Jungkook to curl against your side, a position you usually take, but something tells you that Jungkook needs this more than you do. Part of your assumption is due to the timid, gentle boy who entered your bedroom – a different person than the one you watched murder multiple Red Pins at the warehouse with frightening ease. 

He’s still the same, though, deep down, a lonely boy with nothing to his name, just like the rest of you. 

Jungkook stays quiet while you run your fingers through his hair. You’re reminded of the promise you were supposed to make to Yoongi, the one about taking care of Jungkook. It’s time for you to finally fulfill that promise, and you already know what the first step should be. 

“I’m sorry,” you apologize softly. “I don’t like not talking to you.” 

And it hurts more than you realize. Saying it out loud makes it real, this scary uncertainty in your relationship that you’ve never experienced before. Jungkook has always been there – a steady comfort to fall back on, soft eyes to search for in moments tainted with fear and grief. Not having Jungkook in your life… It’s unfathomable. 

“I’m sorry, too,” Jungkook whispers into the crook of your neck.

You’re not sure what he’s sorry for, though you remind yourself that a relationship is a two-way street. The two of you should have talked rather than dance around each other. Even now, you’re not really talking. You want to bring it up – the kiss. What it means for him. What it means for you. Why it happened in the first place. If it’s… okay, okay to like how soft Jungkook’s lips had felt on yours and how sweet he’d tasted. Okay to feel an unfamiliar heat spread throughout your body, starting at his fingers gripping your waist. 

“I’m sorry I did it without asking first,” Jungkook elaborates after a few minutes of silence. 

Even though he doesn’t say what it is, you don’t need him to spell it out before you reply, “It’s okay.” 

“It’s not, though.” 

You shiver when Jungkook’s lips brush against your neck as he talks. His breath is cold, even though his body is warm. You wonder if it’s the darkness inside of him seeping out when he breathes. 

“I swear, it is. I forgive you. We both kinda went for it, right?” You say with an awkward laugh. 

“I’m not sorry about doing it.” Jungkook squeezes you tighter, but you’re already holding your breath. “I’d do it again.” 

His confession is whispered so quietly you likely wouldn’t have heard him if it weren’t for the fact that his lips brush your neck just below your ear. 

“Oh.”

“Yeah.” 

Jungkook’s lips travel higher. You close your eyes and let out a shuddered breath when his lips brush against your earlobe. 

It’s getting harder to relax, your body completely rigid and your breathing on the verge of frantic as Jungkook drags his nose down the length of your neck. The touch sends tingling sensations across your body. A strange feeling, like your stomach is flipping around inside of you, consumes you. His nose on your skin tickles, but it’s somehow more than just a tickle. It feels… good. Makes your stomach tense and heat spread, chasing after the goosebumps. 

“Goodnight,” Jungkook finally whispers into the crook of your neck. 

It takes you a long time to fall asleep.

THE EVE 

Apparently, the First of Summer is something to celebrate at the Commune. It seems as though everyone has a task to complete on the Eve of the holiday to get all the preparations in order, even you and your misfit crew. 

“Our Gifts are at their strongest during the Summer; haven’t you noticed?” 

Jimin flutters around like a hummingbird, gracefully darting between about a dozen small baskets lined up in the grass beside his home. The fire Gifted places a variety of items in the baskets: flower bouquets, fruits and vegetables wrapped in protective cloths, and other little trinkets and handmade presents. 

“Is that so?” Namjoon perks up from where he’d been watching a line of ants march into a small anthill. He sits in the grass next to you and Jessi while Jungkook and Hoseok stand closer to where Jimin flits around. 

“Mhm. We are more in tune with the Seasons compared to humans.” 

Jessi scoffs, “We are humans.” 

Cradling a bouquet of tiger lilies in one hand, Jimin puts his other hand on his hip. It’s supposed to be sassy and, perhaps, stern, but he just comes off as adorable in your eyes. 

“We are not humans.” 

“Then what are we?” 

With a huff, Jimin gently places the flowers in a basket that’s nearly full. 

“We are Gifts from Nature. Don’t you feel it? The Earth flows through our veins, Jessi. She broke pieces off herself to gift to us; pieces of the Universe exist inside of us. Humans don’t have that.”

There mustn’t be a good comeback for such lofty talk because Jessi remains quiet after Jimin finishes speaking. You don’t blame her; the perspective Jimin offers isn’t one you’ve ever heard of before. Everyone talks about Gifteds as mutants, genetic abominations. It’s scientific and clinical, although no scientist has figured out how or why Gifteds exist. 

Jimin’s perspective sounds like… magic. You decide that you quite like the idea that some omnipresent entity chose to give up parts of herself to make you special, a lot more than believing you’re an unnatural freak. 

“What are these for?” Hoseok asks, bending at the waist to peer into one of the baskets. 

“They’re gifts,” Jimin says with a little giggle, likely at the tease around the word he uses. “It’s customary to give gifts on the First of Summer. You’re supposed to leave them on your neighbors’ doorsteps, though you could directly gift them during the Bonfire.” 

Brushing his hands onto his pants, Jimin straightens up and looks around at your group. In the few days you’ve known Jimin, you’ve noticed that his lips poke out when he’s thinking. It reminds you of a little beak on a baby bird. You’ve told Jungkook as much, and he agrees. 

Your eyes fall on Jungkook, hoping he’ll look your way. It doesn’t take long for him to tilt his head to the side and meet your gaze. Sometimes you wonder if Jungkook can sense you somehow. You don’t understand how his Gift works, but it seems mysterious enough to be capable of anything at this point. How else would he somehow know when you’re looking in his direction every time? 

With a mischievous glint in your eyes, you subtly pucker your lips. 

Jungkook catches on quickly. His eyebrows shoot up, and a small smirk etches itself into his features. He pinches his lips into a pucker, too, and wiggles his eyebrows at you. 

You have to press your lips together to stop yourself from laughing. 

“Jungkook?” 

The younger man quickly straightens his posture and schools his face when Jimin calls out to him. 

“Yes, hyung?” 

“Want to help me finish up with some decorations? Jessi, too?” 

Jungkook nods hard enough that you worry he might give himself a headache. 

As Jessi pushes herself off the ground, Jimin turns to you, Namjoon, and Hoseok. 

“How about you all help Seokjin down at the quad with the Bonfire? He’s working on setting up the tables and food stalls for the Morning of Summer. We gather to have a breakfast feast and celebrate the first Morning together.” 

Hoseok beams at the idea, turning to you with his hands held out. You squeeze them and let him help haul you onto your feet. 

“It sounds so nice,” Hoseok chirps with excitement as the three of you make your way through the winding dirt road toward the quad, past rows of unique homes and community gardens scattered across what is essentially a makeshift neighborhood. 

“Having a community… I feel like I don’t know how to enjoy it,” Namjoon says softly. 

“What do you mean?” It seems odd to you; haven’t they all wanted something like this?

“I don’t remember how to be social. I was, I think, at some point. Before the Labs. And, of course, I feel comfortable with you all. But…” 

“Being around strangers is hard,” you offer. 

Namjoon nods in agreement. He isn’t sad, though, like you’d assumed he’d be. Namjoon wears a smile as Hoseok wraps his arms around his waist. 

“The good thing is we have all the time in the world to figure ourselves out, now. We get to be whatever we want to be, and exist however we want to exist. No more running, no more hiding, no more fighting,” Hoseok says with a grin, and it’s impossible to not believe him. 

The air Gifted nuzzles his face into Namjoon’s neck, and you swear there is light pink that mixes with the honey of Namjoon’s cheeks. 

Hoseok’s display of affection reminds you of your nights with Jungkook. They’ve become more frequent; nearly every night, he slips into your bed to cuddle with his lips dragging along your neck, just lightly enough to seem innocent but still present enough to make your body burn with an unfamiliar heat.  

You haven’t done anything more than cuddle, and you’re having a hard time telling yourself that you’re okay with that. 

Seokjin doesn’t give you time to ponder what you think is your budding love life. He gives you, Hoseok, and Namjoon a variety of tasks to complete throughout the day, from painting what you learn are ancient runes on the sides of buildings to helping the farmers harvest their produce to bring to the food stalls. Manual labor doesn’t bother the three of you; for months, you’ve all lived in a world where you work hard to survive, hunting and building your shelters. This work is easy in comparison and much more entertaining. 

At some point, Taehyung strolls through the busy quad to check on the outdoor dining space coming to fruition a safe distance from the large bonfire. He plops down on the bench at one of the tables, elbow on the table and chin resting in his hand as he watches you, Hoseok, and Namjoon take a break to munch on some snacks one of the farmers had given you. 

“Having fun, little Gifts?” 

Taehyung’s eyes sparkle in the late afternoon sun, and you can’t help but melt into the comfort that radiates from him. 

“I could stay here forever,” Hoseok mumbles around a large bite of an apple. 

“Oh?” The twinkling of Taehyung’s eyes morphs from adoration to teasing amusement. “I thought that was already the plan.” 

Hoseok nods, giving the leader a sheepish look. 

“That would be dope, yeah.”

“Then it is done.” 

The exchange makes you and Namjoon giggle, though the sweet sounds quickly die out when familiar figures jog down the dirt path toward where you sit. 

Jimin is beaming, his entire aura nearly glowing, though you know part of that is due to his Gift. Your gut twists from the memory of Yoongi, but the pain doesn’t cut as deeply as it used to. At first, you thought the lessening of the pain meant you were forgetting him or no longer caring about him, and you felt even more grief from that. But a late-night heart-to-heart with Hoseok taught you that this isn’t apathy; it’s healing. 

So you acknowledge the little prick of pain that sits in your chest but choose to use the memory of Yoongi to fuel your new love for Jimin, who you know Yoongi would have loved, too. 

“Jiminie!” Taehyung calls from his seat at the table. He holds his arms open, eagerly pulling the other man into a spine-crushing hug. 

The call of your own name draws your attention away from the men. You turn to see Jessi flashing you an uncharacteristically large grin. It makes you extremely suspicious. 

“What do you want?” You question her with narrowed eyes. 

“Oh, nothing. Jungkook wants something, though,” she says in a sing-songy voice before skipping - literally skipping - away to talk to Hoseok and Namjoon. 

Jungkook stands at the opposite end of the long wooden table. In his hands is a small wicker basket and he shuffles from foot to foot, staring at nothing in particular. 

“Jungkook-ah?”

He looks up at you with large, startled eyes. In a split second, he’s gone. The only evidence that the young man had even been there is the wicker basket now rocking from side to side in front of you on the table. 

You can’t help but giggle as dark shadows slither from table to table. 

“Do you think he can still hear me when he’s in his shadow form?” Jessi slides onto the bench beside you. She looks around at all the shadows, likely wondering which one is Jungkook. 

“I have no idea.” 

“Hey, Jungkook-ah!” Jessi looks over her shoulder to survey more of the quad. “You’re a fucking wimp!” 

Ignoring Jessi’s comment, you turn your attention to the basket. Inside is a small bouquet of white mugunghwa, a modern-looking pale pink jeogori, and a brand-new hard copy of Fahrenheit 451. Your heart pounds in your chest as you lift each item from the basket and gently place them on the table in front of you, inspecting them with soft eyes and careful fingers. 

“Where…?” 

“He picked the flowers himself and did odd jobs around the Commune and hunted some meat to trade for the jeogori and the book,” Jessi answers your unfinished question. 

You feel your eyes tingle at the corners, with tears threatening to burn your cheeks if you blink too hard. From what it sounds like, the Summer gifts are extremely meaningful - something you share with those you care about to wish them a fruitful year and good health. To think that Jungkook has spent the few days you’ve been here preparing such a gift for you warms your heart, so much so that you feel like you’re catching fire from the inside out. 

“This is very special,” Taehyung speaks as he caresses one of the flower’s petals. 

You’d almost forgotten about Seokjin, Taehyung, Jimin, and the rest of your group. 

“It is,” you agree. You carefully return the items to the basket to keep them safe. “I don’t have a gift for him, though. Is it fair to show up to the Bonfire empty-handed?” 

Jimin rests his chin on Taehyung’s head and hums as he thinks.

“Typically, we don’t give gifts to each other during the Bonfire. The gifts you bring to the Bonfire are offerings to Nature to ask for health and prosperity in the upcoming year. You’ll toss them into the fire and recite the offering prayer - but you don’t have to since you don’t know it yet.” 

You’re not sure you have anything to offer the Bonfire, either, but it seems Taehyung reads your mind. 

“There are other ways to give an offering to Nature, if not through the Bonfire,” Taehyung supplies with a small smirk. He looks mischievous and sneaky; the expression makes your skin tickle with goosebumps. 

“Yeah, you can fuck,” Seokjin adds with a smirk of his own. He looks too proud of himself when you choke on your next inhale of air. 

“You can what?” Hoseok nearly trips over his feet in his attempt to get closer to hear what Seokjin has to say. 

“It’s not an official part of the Summer celebration,” Jimin interjects with a roll of his eyes at his husband. 

“It’s a part my sweet Jiminie doesn’t mind partaking in.” 

“Seokjin!” 

Taehyung throws his head back in a loud cackle as Jimin’s face turns bright pink. The poor fire Gifted sputters as he tries to defend himself. 

“N-no! No! It’s, no!” 

Seokjin shrugs and stretches his arms over his head, leaning on each side long enough to make his joints pop. 

“Sex is part of Nature, is it not? It represents vitality, fertility, birth, new beginnings,” Seokjin points out. “Nature takes all that we give her with equal value.” 

If Jimin is uncomfortable, you’re downright mortified. You can’t help but look around at the quad as Jessi had, every shadow lurking around the corner more suspicious than the next. What does it mean that they mention sex, and your thought immediately turns to Jungkook? Shame burns at your cheeks, but you can’t get the image out of your mind. You know pretty much nothing about sex and can barely even imagine what it would be like, yet you latch onto the idea that Jungkook might be… 

Well…

You can’t say it. You can’t bring yourself to think about it. Shaking your head, you quickly stand and scoop the wicker basket into your arms. 

“I’m going to put this in my room,” you announce to no one and everyone. 

The group shouts teasing comments about your shy behavior as you do your best to walk calmly in the direction of Seokjin and Jimin’s house, avoiding everyone’s gaze and especially the shadows.

FIRE

You expected the Bonfire to hurt. Not physically, since there are plenty of fire Gifteds around to ensure the celebrations stay safe and under control. No, you expected the pain of the Bonfire to be internal, an emotional pain like the pain you’ve been failing to run from in the months since Yoongi left you. 

It has taken you a long time to let go of the anger you’ve let fester inside of you. Your anger verges on hatred, and hatred helps no one. Who is there to hate? Yoongi, for sacrificing himself to save his friends? The rest of your group for mourning your best friend just as profoundly as you have? The Red Pins for taking everything away from you? 

The Bonfire crackles and hums like it’s trying to speak to you, but its voice is drowned out by the singing and shouting of the Gifteds dancing in a circle around its flames. The flames reach nearly as high as the buildings surrounding it. Jimin and the other fire Gifteds occasionally pull out stray flames, letting them lick around their arms and bodies to entertain the children fascinated by Gifts they have yet to master within themselves. 

The performance is beautiful just as much as it hurts your heart to watch. You’re mesmerized by the dancing flames and swaddled by the heat of the Bonfire, so you don’t notice another Gifted approaching you until you’re standing shoulder-to-shoulder. 

“Have you given your offering yet?” 

The fire reflects in Jungkook’s eyes like an orange light show, hues swirling and dancing to the tune of whatever ancient language the Gifteds sing in.

“Not yet,” you respond, turning to look at him. 

Jungkook’s gaze drops to take in the jeogori you’re wearing – the one he gifted you the day before. It fits you well, loose enough that you don’t feel restricted, but still cut in a way that compliments your body. You’re glad it’s short-sleeved, or you’d be sweating in the summer night air. 

“Me either.” 

“What did you bring?” 

Jungkook pats his thigh. When you look down, you see that he has his knife strapped to his leg. 

“The fire probably isn’t hot enough to melt it, but… I think it’s the thought that counts.” 

It’s a serious matter, what the two of you are discussing, but you can’t help but giggle as you crouch down to retrieve your offering from where it sits at your feet. 

“Your bow?” Jungkook whispers as though he’s scandalized. 

“And my arrows.”

“Are you sure you want to do that? You always–” 

You shake your head. “We’re giving our weapons up for the same reasons, aren’t we?”

Jungkook nibbles at his bottom lip for a few moments. He turns away from you, those big doe eyes focused again on the fire. 

“Yoongi gave them to us.” When Jungkook speaks, his voice quivers, but his cheeks remain dry. “And we’re done fighting.” 

“We’re done fighting…” 

You mull over the thought, let it roll around in your head, test out its taste on your tongue and see how it weighs in your heart. No more fighting, just like Hoseok said. In the place of fighting, you have a community, like Namjoon wanted. Like you all wanted, no matter how afraid you are to embrace it or admit that you aren’t sure how to join it. 

Yoongi never wanted any of you to have to fight.

“Yeah.” Jungkook’s shoulders sag. “I don’t think I could keep it up even if I had to. I’m… ready to be happy. Like the hyungs. They are so bright.” 

Your heart cracks with every word, nearly spilling out onto the floor when you watch Jimin sprint across the quad to launch himself into Seokjin’s arms. He wraps his legs around Seokjin’s waist as the two kiss, the fire illuminating their faces like angels’ halos. 

Reaching over, you squeeze Jungkook’s hand, lacing your fingers with his. You don’t need to speak; gently tugging his arm has him following you through the crowd toward the base of the Bonfire. The rest of your friends are somewhere around the Bonfire, but you aren’t interested in looking for them. 

“1… 2… 3.” 

When Jungkook stops counting, the two of you toss your weapons into the fire. Your hands are still intertwined, even if the heat makes your skin sweaty and stick together. You’re both willing to stand at the Bonfire for as long as you can, letting the flames burn your retinas as you try to follow the path the fire takes to eat away at the weapons you’ve surrendered to it. 

Letting go feels good, even if you’re letting go of something Yoongi gave you. In a way, he has given you far more than just a bow and some deadly arrows – or a knife and thigh harness. He gave you love, hope, and a second chance. He showed you what it means to love and be loved selflessly and unconditionally and taught you what it means to be a leader in the face of unbelievable hardship. 

You don’t think you could have been even half of the person Yoongi was. 

The press of fingers at the tip of your chin pulls you out of your melancholic thoughts. Jungkook cradles your face, swiping the pad of his thumb along your cheek once a few tears slip from your lash line. 

“Sorry, this is ridiculous,” you croak out. “This is supposed to be a happy celebration.” 

Jungkook’s eyebrows furrow as a pout turns the corners of his lips downward. You think he’s about to scold you over apologizing for your feelings – which you know you shouldn’t do – but Jungkook is always full of surprises.  

“Can I take you somewhere?” 

Forests will likely always scare you. Too many unspeakable things have happened within the woods, too many sad souls wrapped around tree roots and branches. You’re unsure what the woods around the Commune have seen - or if they’re even real; Seokjin’s Gift confuses you. Are the woods here the same ones you traveled through to get here? Are they imaginary, crafted by Seokjin’s mind? Does any of this exist? 

The woods certainly feel different here than at the warehouse. Jungkook leads you by the hand down a winding path through trees decorated with brightly-colored garlands draped across their luscious green branches. You recognize the decorations as ones Jungkook, Jessi, and Jimin helped the children make while the rest of your group worked with Seokjin on the Bonfire. 

“I found this spot when I was looking for your gifts,” Jungkook murmurs. 

“With Jimin?” 

“Mhm. He said, I know a place. It was funny.” 

The sound of the Bonfire festivities is far in the distance, muted by the quiet rustling of life in the woods. Jungkook stops to brush a few vines away that hang from the trees. When he steps to the side to let you walk through the opening he created, you feel your breath get caught in your throat. 

Before you is a circular clearing littered with white and pink mugunghwa shrubs. The flowers nearly glow in the dark, and their sweet scent permeates the air. But what really tugs at your heart is the smattering of tiny fireflies that meander above your head, exploring the peaceful little world away from the chaos of the Commune. 

“Jimin hyung said he doesn’t think anyone else knows this place. He comes here to be alone. Or… with Seokjin,” Jungkook whispers, giving you a sheepish look with pink cheeks. “I think it’s supposed to be, umm, you know, for what the hyungs were talking about, but, I, uh, I’m not…” 

You suddenly feel hot, warmth prickling at your skin and making moisture collect along your hairline despite being far from the fire. What is Jungkook going on about? You have an idea but are too nervous to respond to his rambling. 

Jungkook nudges you with his shoulder before carefully weaving through the shrubs until he finds a more open spot to sit in the grass. 

You follow him, the two of you sitting face-to-face, your knees bumping into each other as you cross them. 

“Thank you for bringing me here,” you whisper. “And for the gifts. I didn’t get to talk to you about them…” 

There’s no need to speak so quietly, but something about this place makes you worry being too loud would disrupt the magic of it. 

“Of course,” Jungkook responds just as softly. “I wanted to show you something special because you are special to me.” 

Your stomach flips at the memory of Jungkook’s similar confession when you last cut his hair at the warehouse. His gentleness has been a saving grace for you in a world so dark, even when the darkness sometimes consumes him, too. 

“You’re special to me, too.” It’s easy to admit; it flows from your mouth as easily as water flows from your soul. 

“Thank you… I think we deserve something soft. Does that make sense?” 

You tell him that it does because even if you aren’t entirely sure what that means to him, you know that you desire softness in a life that has been so hard. 

Jungkook gives you a small smile. A shake of his head flips his bangs out of his eyes so he can look at you properly. It feels different, the way he looks at you. Darker, more intense, but not scary like you’ve seen him look at you before. There is the same power in his gaze, but it’s gentler. 

You don’t know what to make of it, so you don’t comment on it. Instead, you reach up to brush Jungkook’s bangs out of his eyes. 

“I need to cut your hair,” you muse, a small smirk pulling up the corner of your mouth. 

Your fingers linger on his face, migrating from his forehead to drag down the bridge of his nose. When you get to the tip, you mean to bop it lightly, but Jungkook tilts his head back. The adjustment makes your finger slip, and you end up pressing against his lips instead. 

Jungkook watches you with curious eyes as he puckers his lips slightly to kiss your finger. It’s a closed-mouth kiss, nothing scandalous, but you feel electricity shoot up your arm and spread through your body. 

“Oh,” you quietly gasp when Jungkook takes hold of your wrist. He kisses each of your other fingers, ending with a lingering one on your palm. 

“Can I tell you something?” He asks, bringing your hand down to hold in his lap. 

You silently nod because you’re afraid of what you might say or sound like if you open your mouth. 

Jungkook takes a deep breath, and his grip on your hand tightens slightly. Whatever it is he’s going to say seems like it’s taking a lot for him to sort through in his head from the way his breathing picks up and his eyebrows furrow. 

“Jungkook-ah, you don’t have to…” 

Jungkook shakes his head and takes your other hand, too. 

“No, I have to do this. It’s… we’re just, ahh.” He tilts his head back to stare at the starry sky. After a moment, he exhales loudly out of his nostrils and drops his gaze to yours again. “I’m in love with you. And for some reason, I feel like I shouldn’t tell you that ‘cause it seems selfish to dump this on you ‘cause everything is so… fucked up. It’s so fucked. I don’t know why I feel like I’m not allowed to… to be like this, to feel like this. But Jimin hyung said love is in our Nature and is never bad. And, yeah. I guess, yeah. I’m in love with you, and I think you need to know ‘cause I can’t keep pretending I’m not.” 

Out of breath from expelling his words as fast as he can, Jungkook clamps his mouth shut and waits silently. Waits. Waits for you to do something, to say something. 

He’s right. Everything is fucked up enough that you can relate to the guilt Jungkook feels for wanting to love, to be happy. He didn’t call it guilt, but you’ve felt it, so you know. It’s precisely what Jessi scolded you about – on numerous occasions. It’s what Hoseok, Namjoon, and Seokjin and Jimin have shown you that you can overcome. 

Are you in love with Jungkook?

As you watch him bat his pretty eyelashes at you, those large eyes bearing his entire soul and the love and hurt inside, you think that maybe you aren’t in love with him, not right now. But you do love him. And you think, maybe one day, when your heart no longer hurts, you could be in love, too. 

So it feels right when you scoot closer to Jungkook and slide your hand against the side of his face to bring your lips to his. 

Something flutters in the pit of your stomach, like the fireflies above your head, when Jungkook’s lips move with yours. There’s a push and pull to your movements, a hesitant dance that reminds you of how Jungkook spars. His touches are light yet calculated, showing strength when he holds himself back. 

“It’s okay to be happy,” you whisper against Jungkook’s lips when you finally pull away – just barely because you want to cocoon yourself in the warmth of his body. 

“You make me happy,” he whispers back. 

It takes more kissing, the exchange of air and spit that would normally gross you out but somehow feels good before your brain finally lets go of the negativity you’ve been holding. 

Jungkook kisses away your shame and guilt as he squeezes your hips and pulls you into his lap. You settle on his thighs with your legs wrapped around his tiny waist and let him kiss you until you can’t breathe. And just when you feel like you’ll suffocate in the most pleasant way, he begins planting kisses along your jaw. 

Your hands find the hair at the back of Jungkook’s head, and you run your fingers through his hair to distract yourself from how your hands are trembling. Your entire body vibrates with a desperate feeling you’ve never had before as Jungkook sucks on the sensitive skin of your throat. The sensation makes you squirm.

“Fuck,” Jungkook groans into the crook of your neck. He sounds pained to you, which makes you panic. 

“What? What’s wrong?” You feel like you’re blinking sleep out of your eyes from how dazed you are. Embarrassment creeps along your burning skin; how can you be so out of your mind that you start behaving like this? 

Jungkook presses his hands flat against your back, the pads of his fingers massaging your muscles while he lowers his touch, slowly and gently, until his hands find the curve of your ass. 

“Jungkook-ah,” you nearly scold him when he squeezes you. 

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” he confesses, encouraging you to grind against his crotch. 

It’s only then that you feel his erection in his pants. The knowledge that he’s reacting this way because of you makes the electricity in your veins spike through you even stronger. 

“Me either.” 

Jungkook finally lifts his head to look at you, and it’s a wonder how he manages to wear innocent doe eyes yet bite his kissed-pink bottom lip in an air of seduction that makes your body tingle. 

“I want to be good for you.” 

His words do something to you that you’re too scared to address, so you opt for humor when you reply, “Well, I don’t have anything to compare you to.” 

With a roll of his eyes, Jungkook brings trembling hands to the side of your jeogori where the strings are tied into a bow to keep the clothing in place. 

“Can I take this off?” 

“Please.” 

Getting naked in front of Jungkook is a lot less terrifying than you thought it would be – not that you’d ever thought of it before! Not like this, at least. The two of you have bathed together, but that’s different. It’s easier to hide in the water, and both of you are respectful enough not to take peeks. So it’s most likely the calming presence Jungkook holds that keeps you relaxed once you kneel naked in front of each other. In the moonlight, you both let your eyes wander each other’s figures, drinking in each other like you want to savor it. 

You let Jungkook’s hands wander, experimentally pinching your nipples to draw a moan out of you and tickling your stomach as his touches make their way down your body. He whispers gentle words of encouragement and proclamations of your beauty when you fall back in the grass and open your thighs for him. 

“I want to touch you,” Jungkook says into your chest. Your skin glistens from how his tongue explores where his hands just had, but you’re more focused on his fingers ghosting over your hips. “Please?” 

“Yes,” you whimper. 

You’re both shaking when Jungkook slips his fingers through your folds, his thumb lightly pressing against your clit while his fingers reach your entrance. It’s an odd sensation, but you’re quickly a moaning mess beneath him. Even if the rhythm of his fingers pumping in and out of you isn’t consistent, and he’s touching you almost too lightly as though he’s afraid of hurting you, it still feels good.

“Am I doing okay?” 

You can’t help but laugh. 

When he gives you a pout, you throw your arm around his shoulders and pull him down to kiss him. He hovers over you, spreading you open further because your thighs press against the outsides of his hips. You both notice when his cock – which you’d nervously ignored until now – brushes against the crease of your thigh. 

“Fuck,” Jungkook moans, and it’s the prettiest sound you’ve ever heard. “I want… I wanna, ah, fuck.” If you’d thought Jungkook’s usual flustered state was cute, this is downright deadly. 

“Me, too.” You guess what he’s trying to say – are confirmed when he lightly bites your shoulder and ruts against you.

“Are you sure?” 

It’s a valid question, and you surprise yourself when you say “yes” without hesitation. But you’ve wanted this for much longer than you can admit. Your desire for Jungkook has grown with every soft late-night cuddle and almost kiss. 

Jungkook rolls his hips, gliding his cock between your thighs, the motion wet and slippery. It takes some fumbling before he manages to line himself with your entrance and slowly sink inside you. 

Gentle, careful, he whispers that he’ll take care of you even though he has no experience. With each thrust, you promise him that it doesn’t hurt, speak praise into his ear that makes his entire body shiver. 

Your legs ache from your unusual position, and your sweat mixes with Jungkook’s in a way that’s honestly disgusting if you think about it. Still, you can’t deny how good the building pressure feels as it seems to start between your thighs and at your clit, slowly spreading like wildfire up your stomach and into somewhere deep inside of you. 

The only time you’ve heard anyone talk about sex is Jessi, and it was typically in a negative light. Something about men not knowing where the clit is or how to use their dicks. Jungkook seems like a natural; he’s the golden maknae for a reason. Maybe it’s not mind-blowing, but you’re both starting with nothing to guide you. 

Rather than a life-changing orgasm, you’re more interested in how Jungkook looks like he’d give his heart to you, no questions asked. Like he already has. 

You’re more interested in how softly he kisses you and holds your leg against his hip and caresses it like you’re something worth treating with care. 

You’re more interested in how he moans, “I love you, fuck, I love you so much,” and lets you bite his bottom lip because he knows you aren’t ready to say it back, and he’s okay with that. Because he’ll wait for you for as long as you need him to. 

“I’m so sorry,” Jungkook moans against your throat, where he’s sucked blossoms nearly as pretty as the mugunghwa. “But I’m gonna come, like, ahh, fuck, like right, fuck, shit, like right now.” 

From Jessi’s complaints, sex is supposed to end with this: Jungkook finding his release against your inner thighs because he has enough sense to pull out, and you’re left on your back, discarded and unsatisfied. 

So when Jungkook slides down until your thighs are propped open by his shoulders, you watch in confusion because you thought it was over. 

The flick of his tongue against your clit has you lifting off the ground from how sharply you arch your back. You frantically exhale a raspy chant of Jungkook’s name in time with each pump of his fingers he’s managed to slip inside you while you struggle to lie still. 

“Let me make you feel good,” he murmurs with shiny lips, and you see stars just from that image alone. 

Later, when you’re both sweaty and exhausted, you curl together under the protective barrier of Jungkook’s shadows. He hides you from the world and keeps you safe until morning when you’ll return to the Commune to bring in the First of Summer with a breakfast feast. 

But until then, you hold each other with promises of never letting go, forgiveness, and understanding. 

“We’re gonna be okay,” Jungkook whispers against your hair. 

“You just have to stick with me, right?” 

When he laughs, you feel it rumble through his chest. “By your side is the only place I wanna be.” 

You fall asleep among the mugunghwa shrubs and fireflies to the sound of Jungkook’s heartbeat. 

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not my fault | jjk (m)

Summary: After sparking a sinful conversation on a dating app, you vow to yourself that you won’t give in to more the notorious college fuckboy Jeon Jungkook might have to offer. That is, until he rings your doorbell just one night later – and it’s truly not your fault that he’s so damn hard to resist.

➵ pairing: Jungkook x female reader ➵ rating: 18+ ➵ genre:classmates to lovers, college!au; fluff, smut ➵ warnings: sexual tension, flirting/teasing/provoking, banter, a dating app :’), she has a crush on him but won’t admit it, grumpy roommate joon, crack dialogue, fuckboy!jk who wears glasses in class, idk that much about pharmacy i apologise; explicit sexual content: sexting, he makes her horny in public, petnames !!, fingering, edging, oral (f. & m. rec.), dom and big cawk jk wbk, he’s SO cocky, spanks (ass & clit ones), some choking, praising, messy but protected sex, she swallows his load <3, jk rlly loves her ass <3 ➵ word count: 12.6k ➵ a/n: been itching to write a lighthearted college au for so long and here we gooo !! @missgeniality​​​​​​​ thank you for enduring me and making this better and for not k*lling me yet, love thou, kitty <33 enjoy y’all – feedback is always appreciated !! <3

MASTERLIST | WIPS

“What’s with the constant yelling on this goddamn campus?”

Keep reading

bottle up old love (jjk) (m)

summary: Jungkook may have broken up with you a year ago, but that's not going to stop him from coming to your rescue when he sees you being cornered by a creep.

pairing: Jungkook x Reader

rating: 18+ (MINORS DNI)

genre: exes to lovers, the holy trinity of angst/smut/fluff

word count: 4.6k (this was supposed to be a drabble 💀)

prompt: JK + exes to lovers + "I'm sorry" + "I hate you" + "Don't fucking touch me" + "Leave" (for @btsborahaee <3)

warnings: language, a short harassment scene at the beginning (nothing too intense), explicit content including: unprotected sex (DO NOT), fingering, praise kink, biting, marking, spanking, cum eating (sort of?), big cawk soft dom jk, cowgirl (yeehaw), creampie, cockwarming, i think that's all but this also wasn't supposed to be too smutty so clearly idk what's going on lol

MASTERLIST

“Don’t fucking touch me!”

You spit the words at the man in front of you, pushing him back as he tries to make another grab at your arm.

“Why do you gotta be like that?” Seungcheol whines. “I thought we were having fun.”

“You and I have very different ideas of fun.” You take a step backwards towards your building. Somewhere down the sidewalk, footsteps clatter against the pavement.

“C’mon.” He matches your movement, reaches for you again. “Invite me up. You enjoyed the last time, didn’t you? I told you that was just a warm-up.”

The building’s brick wall is closer than you thought, and you bang your shoulder against it as you try to sidestep him. “Last time you didn’t follow me to a bar I didn’t even invite you to. How did you know where I was anyway?”

“Let me come up, and I’ll tell you,” he rumbles with a flicker of his eyebrows. He has you fully backed up against the wall now, and you press against the muscle of his chest to no avail.

“Stop!” you shout before he’s ripped away from you so suddenly that you’re left blinking in confusion, huddled against the brick.

There’s a thud–the sound of a fist hitting flesh–and a yelp before Seungcheol is reeling back with his hands clutching his nose. Blood seeps out from beneath his fingers, black even under the glow of the streetlamps.

“What the fuck?” he shrieks, and it’s only then that you take a proper look at your savior, looking every bit like he’s stepped straight out of the shadows with his dark hair, ebony clothes, and deep brown eyes.

And a lead weight drops into your stomach as you recognize him.

Jungkook sets himself between you and Seungcheol, looming over the latter as he continues to cover his face, whining. “I’m giving you ten seconds to get out of here.”

“Who the fuck are you?!”

“Ten,” Jungkook growls, taking a step in Seungcheol’s direction. “Nine.”

Seungcheol straightens–clearly a last-ditch attempt to look intimidating. Spitting blood onto the concrete, he peers at you over Jungkook’s shoulder. “This isn’t over, bitch.”

Then he spins and takes off running down the street.

Your hands grip your elbows. It may be a balmy summer night, but you’re shivering where you stand, unsure whether you’re more affected by Seungcheol’s behavior or the ghost who’s unexpectedly in front of you.

“Are you okay?” he quietly asks, gaze fixed on your face. You stare at your shoes and give him a brisk nod as a response before turning away, punching in your building code, and walking through the front door.

He follows closely, slipping in behind you and trailing a few feet. You let him for a little while, guiding him through the modest lobby and up the first flight of stairs. But when you’re halfway up the second stairwell–almost to your floor–you pause on the landing, spinning his way.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

His eyes are gentle, sincere. “Making sure you get in safely.”

“There’s no need for that,” you assert. “I’m already in my building. There’s a keypad. I’m good.”

“The keypad does almost nothing. I followed you in no problem.”

“So I should be worried about you then?”

He flushes, the tips of his ears going pink. “Please just let me see you inside.”

You want to argue back, want to shout at him and make a scene, but you know it’s no use. Know that he’s stubborn as a bull and will get what he wants one way or another.

It’s how he broke up with you after all.

You say nothing, only hustle up the last set of steps and down the dimly-lit hallway until you’re in front of your door, Jungkook tailing you the whole time with his hands in his pockets. You practically fumble your key in your haste to get it into the lock, letting out a satisfied sigh as the latch finally clicks open.

“There. I’m in,” you say as you step over the threshold, waving a dismissive hand at your unwanted companion. “Leave.”

But he hesitates just outside the doorway, teeth chewing at the corner of his lip. “What are you going to do if he comes back?”

“That’s my problem, isn’t it? I stopped being your concern when you dropped me out of nowhere a year ago.”

Your eyes sting at the memory, tears threatening to spill over. You don’t want him here. Don’t want to see him or have him anywhere in your vicinity. Not when it still hurts like this.

Though, truth be told, you don’t expect to ever be fully over him.

“We’re done, Jungkook,” you murmur. “You made sure of that.”

And you close the door in his face.

The distress subsides quickly once he’s out of sight–like he was never there to begin with–and you don’t linger, dropping your bag on the sofa and heading straight for the bathroom. This is how you’ve made it a year without him; it was weeks of crying before you realized that wallowing was doing you no good, only fueling your misery instead of providing any kind of catharsis. So you’ve done your best to simply push past it and crush down the anguish that bubbles up every time you think of him. Put him in a tiny little box that you refuse to touch.

You shed your clothes and turn the shower to a temperature that you’ll probably regret later. But for now, you savor the way the water sears your skin as you wash away the day with all of its unpleasant surprises. Taking your time, you scrub every inch of your body and carefully shampoo your hair (trying not to fall back into the fantasy that’s plagued you on occasion where it’s his hands and not yours spreading the bubbles over your form).

The self-care continues as you step out of the shower and leisurely work through your skin care routine, even taking the time to blow dry your hair. By the time you exit the bathroom, the fog on the mirror has dissipated, and you’ve once again successfully tamped down the memory of Jungkook and his hands and eyes and everything you ever felt for him.

Or so you think.

After popping into your bedroom to pull on some pajamas, you pad back into the living room for a glass of water, and your eyes are immediately drawn to the front door. Regret attempts to push its way into your consciousness against your better judgment. The man broke your heart, yes. But you do feel a little guilty slamming the door in his face after he just fought off a creep for you.

And speaking of Seungcheol, what if he does come back? You’re pretty sure he saw you punch in the building code the night you brought him home with you, and given his behavior, you wouldn’t be surprised if he filed it away in his head.

Anxiety winning out, you creep to the door and peer through the peephole. The hallway looks empty, drab beige walls taking up most of your field of view, but you jump as you spot a hulking shadow to the right. Your heartbeat races then slows, a closer look revealing hunched, unmoving shoulders wrapped in a familiar black t-shirt.

Jungkook swings his head to look at you as you open the door and glare down at him. His legs are pulled up, arms resting on his knees, and it might be endearing if not for the fact that he absolutely, positively should not be here.

“What are you doing?” you ask him for the second time tonight.

“He might come back.”

“And you’re going to what? Fight him?”

He shrugs. “If I have to.”

“Yeah?” You raise an eyebrow, challenging. “You’re going to sit out here all night?”

He shifts where he sits, wiggling his hips like he’s firmly planting his butt into his chosen spot. “Yes.”

You roll your eyes at him but don’t doubt that he would. Again, if there is anything you know this man to be, it’s stubborn. “You’re going to scare the neighbors.”

“Who, Mrs. Kwon?” A tiny smile plays on his lips as he glances in the direction of your elderly neighbor’s apartment. “I think she’d be delighted to see me.”

If you’re being honest, she probably would be. She’s always adored Jungkook and praised him as the “kind, handsome young man” who helped her put away groceries and fixed her leaky faucet one time. In the months following your breakup, she’d asked about him once or twice, patting your arm reassuringly when you awkwardly told her she wouldn’t be seeing him anymore.

“Don’t worry, dear,” she said. “He’ll come around.”

Well she’s turned out to be right in that he’s certainly back here again, still watching you from his spot on the floor. And you don’t know whether it’s his big doe eyes or the fact that he really would guard your apartment all night if you let him or the genuine fear that one of the other neighbors will make a fuss at his presence, but you feel yourself softening.

Turning abruptly, you stride into the kitchen for your glass of water, walking out of sight of the door, which is still wide open.

“You coming?” you call, pulling two glasses down from the cupboard.

There’s a rustle as Jungkook stands and shuffles into your apartment, closing the door behind him with a soft thud. For someone who was so determined to defend you tonight, he seems uncertain now that he’s actually inside. His hands are once again stuffed in his pockets, and his eyes flicker around like he hasn’t been here a thousand times. Hasn’t cooked you breakfast in this kitchen in nothing but his boxers. Hasn’t watched The Notebook with you on this TV and held you as you both cried.

Hasn’t made love to you on the couch.

You slide a water his way, and he murmurs his thanks, sipping at it lightly. It’s strange–seeing him here again–and you can’t help but think about the last time he stood in this room. It’d been a maelstrom of accusations and hurt feelings that culminated in him storming out, the slam of the door echoing in your ears.

“You never cleaned that?” He gestures at the rug that covers most of the sitting area in your living room, eyes on the dark purple stain roughly the size of your hand.

You gulp down your water and try not to follow his line of sight. Try not to remember how you’d knocked over a glass of wine in your haste to get his clothes off during another movie night less than a month before your breakup.

“I kind of forgot about it,” you say. “Stopped noticing it after a while.” 

It’s a lie. There was never a time when you didn’t notice it, the memory of him haunting you every time you sit down on the couch and stare at the garish stain. And still, you haven’t been able to bring yourself to try and erase it.

Silence worms its way between you again. With only the soft light from the tabletop lamp glowing next to the couch, Jungkook’s face is cloaked in shadow. And so you barely see his lips move when he speaks. Barely hear it with how quietly his whisper slips into the room.

“I’m sorry.”

Your glass almost drops from your fingers, droplets splashing across your knuckles as you catch it at the last moment and steady it on the countertop. Turning to face him, you find his gaze already on you, melancholy tinting his expression.

“What?”

He tongues his lip ring, shoulders dropping a fraction. “For how things ended. I’m sorry.”

You can see the sincerity in his posture, can see the sadness in his form. And yet, his words only fill you with a hot anger that bubbles out of you before you can swallow it down.

“I don’t know why you would be,” you challenge, “being that you didn’t even respect me enough to give me a proper reason.”

Jungkook huffs at that; you think he’s resisting the urge to roll his eyes. “Did it really matter?”

“Yes.”

He gnaws at his lip again, no longer looking at you, and his lack of an answer only riles you up further.

“Was there someone else?” you demand, causing him to flinch. It was the same thing you asked him when he told you he thought you should break up, standing in almost this exact same spot.

“No,” he murmurs after a moment. “There wasn’t anyone else.” He pushes a hand through his dark, silky hair. “There hasn’t been anyone else since either.”

This surprises you. Jungkook is, in your eyes, the handsomest man you have ever come face-to-face with, but even from an objective standpoint, he is exceedingly attractive. There is no doubt in your mind that he would easily be able to land a woman if he so desired.

“So then why?”

He sets his jaw, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows and fixes his stare out the window. And it’s this final refusal, this steadfast dedication to not explaining himself, that finally has tears tracking down your cheeks.

The sight of you crying has his attention snapping back your way, hands reaching out as if to hold you.

“Don’t touch me,” you gasp, recoiling until you’re out of reach. “I…I hate you.”

It almost seems as if your voice lands physically, and Jungkook staggers back like you’ve slapped him, remorse immediately wiggling its way between your ribs. You know you don’t mean the words even as they fall from your mouth, but it feels pointless to take them back now, the sentiment already thrown out there and hovering in the hollow space between you.

Jungkook muddles towards the couch–more of a defeated slump dragging his steps than anger–and you think he’s going to sit down before he whirls back towards you at the last second.

“The gala,” he mutters. “That’s when I decided.”

You know which one he’s talking about. Hosted by your medical school to celebrate the end of the academic year, it had been a night of food, dancing, and socializing. You had, of course, brought him as your date and introduced him to your friends and classmates, excited to finally allow him to put faces to names. As you comb through your memories of the night, you can’t pinpoint any warning signs, only remembering the way he’d smiled at you throughout. The way he’d pulled you close and danced you around the room.

“I don’t…I don’t understand.”

He rakes his fingers through his hair again, tossing strands of night over his forehead. A sad chuckle looses itself into the thick air of the room, and the final dregs of his resolve flicker away. “I realized that I didn’t deserve to stand next to you. That you could do much better than me.”

Whatever you thought his reason had been–whatever theories or thoughts had kept you up night after night for the past year–this is not even close to what you expected. And while you always thought finally receiving an answer would be freeing, would offer you some semblance of understanding, you’re surprised at the rage that boils in the pit of your stomach, bile rising in your throat.

“Are you fucking serious right now?” you growl, taking an angered step towards him. “You were feeling insecure, and you made the decision to break up with me without even thinking to, I don’t know, discuss it with me first?”

His hand goes to the back of his neck now, embarrassment showing its face as he peers at you from under his lashes. “I was stupid–”

“No, shit.”

“But can you blame me?” he presses. “There we were: you, about to be this incredible doctor with all of your doctor friends…” His voice falters, sorrow lacing his tone. “And I’m just a tattoo artist.”

The defeatist way he says it helps to dampen your ire some, even if a heap of frustration remains–the sad shape of his doe eyes softening your edges.

“Just a tattoo artist,” you repeat. “Jungkook, I have always been so, so proud of you. I was never anything but proud to have you as my partner. You must’ve known that.”

His teeth worry his lip, and though he nods, he doesn’t seem fully convinced.

So you continue on, closing the distance between you a fraction more. “You started your own business from nothing. And I saw how hard you worked: to get the building, to hire other artists, train your apprentices.” You shake your head–half in irritation, half in awe. “And look at you now! You’re thriving. The last I heard, if you want an appointment at Golden Tattoo, you need to book months in advance.”

His eyes are alight now, some hidden emotion glimmering under the surface, but he stays quiet as he soaks in your words.

“So how can you possibly act like you weren’t enough?” you push. “You are amazing, Jungkook. And I never gave a shit about any job comparisons people may have made.” One more step, and suddenly you’re almost chest-to-chest. As always, you’re unable to resist the pull of his gravity. Yanked right back into his orbit. “I only wanted you. I’ve only ever wanted y–”

He cuts you off with his mouth, strong hands snagging your hips to pull you against him, and your own fingers reflexively tangle in his black hoodie as your subconscious gives itself over to him. Like it’s been waiting for this.

“I’m not. Not thriving,” he mumbles against your lips. “Not without you. Been miserable without you.”

And in spite of your anger, in spite of the fact that you were ready to kick him out a mere hour ago, you find yourself kissing him back, relishing the slick glide of his tongue as he licks into your mouth.

You startle as the backs of your knees suddenly bump against the couch, and then Jungkook is spinning as he settles onto the plush seat, pulling you along to straddle him. He sucks at your neck until you can feel the blood blooming under your skin, painting you like the pretty ink on his arm.

Speaking of.

The fabric of his hoodie whispers as you pull it up and over his back and head, tossing it over his shoulder and into a corner. His arms now bare to you, you trace over his tattoos with your eyes and fingers until you find the one you’d picked out for him; the lovely orange of the flower petals seem to glow even in the dim light of the room.

“Beautiful,” you whisper.

“Just like you.”

You look at him then, the twinkle of tiny galaxies in his eyes betraying his hope. And before you can go any further, you need confirmation.

“You left.”

“I did.” Fingertips press lightly against your waist like he’s afraid you might be the one to disappear now. “I’m sorry.”

“Jungkook, if…” You lick your lips. Can almost taste his regret. “If we do this and you leave again–”

“If we do this, I'm not going anywhere,” he insists, tugging your hips down to grind against him and ghosting a kiss at your jaw. “Just wanna be here with you. Just want you.”

And it’s all you need to hear.

You shed the cotton shirt you had thrown on after your shower and move to yank his own off, tossing it in the same corner as his hoodie. The muscles of his pecs and abs shift under your hands, burning hot where your fingers trace the contours of his torso. 

“God, I missed this,” he groans as he buries his face between your breasts, nipping at the skin there before laving the spot with his tongue.

You’d agree–echo the sentiment that your body has been aching for this–if not for the fact that you’re too busy trying to get the two of you naked, thumbs hooking into the waistband of your shorts.

But a tattooed hand covers yours, eases it away to take its place. “No,” he rumbles. “Let me.”

Wide palms and long fingers span your hips and thighs, grasping as much skin as possible even as he drags your shorts and panties down your legs and helps to steady you as you kick them off. They join the tangle of his own clothes

“Fucking gorgeous,” he growls at the sight of you finally naked in front of him. And with such speed that it almost seems like it’s involuntary, an impulse outside of his control, he’s immediately stroking at the apex of your thighs.

“Baby, this wet for me already?” A breathy sigh passes from his mouth to yours, almost laughing at the ease with which he glides through your folds. “Hell, I could just–”

A finger slips in and you gasp, Jungkook smiling wickedly at you as he quickly adds a second and curls them against your walls. You force your eyes closed as they roll back in your head, and you keel forward, babbling incoherently against the line of his collarbone.

“Use your words, love; you can do it.” He says it as if his fingers aren’t currently buried in you down to the knuckle. As if he’s not making you see stars behind your eyelids right now.

You choke down a breath, desperate for the oxygen. “Insane,” you pant. “I said you’re fucking insane.”

“Only for you,” he says before sliding his digits out of you and dipping them into his mouth. He moans at the taste, and even with his lips closed tightly, you can see the way he’s working his tongue around each finger, unwilling to waste a single drop of your essence.

Like you said. Insane.

He gives you a moment to catch your breath until you’re the one who’s getting impatient, hastily undoing his belt and tearing it from his pants with a hiss. But as you shift off of him so he can slither out of his pants and boxers–his length springing free to slap against his smooth stomach–you’re hit with an untimely realization.

“Jungkook, I don’t have condoms.”

He freezes, the color draining from his face (though admittedly, that may be because all of his blood has clearly gone south). The two of you stare at each other for a long second before he suddenly leans over, rummaging back through his pants pockets. He pulls out his wallet, rifles through it, then tosses it across the room in frustration, head tilting back against the couch as he groans at the ceiling.

“Fuck, me neither.”

You chew at your lip, a loaded quiet settling over the room as Jungkook wipes a hand over his face.

“I’m still on birth control,” you whisper, and Jungkook whips his head around, eyes wide and questioning like he’s not sure he heard you right. But you don’t repeat yourself, only hold his stare until he’s tentatively reaching out to graze his fingertips along your thigh.

“I told you. There’s been no one else.” His expression is earnest, eager. You trust that he’s telling the truth, and yet you also know that if you refused him, if you said you weren’t comfortable, he wouldn’t push.

So you swing a leg back over his lap, drag your wet folds against his cock. He moans, gripping your thighs hard, but he leans in to bite at your lower lip with a growl before pulling back to search your face.

“You?”

It hurts that he even feels the need to ask. Because how could you even want someone else? Who could possibly measure up?

You brush a reassuring, barely-there kiss against his already swollen lips. “No one else for me either.”

This seems to please him, but you still see hesitation behind his eyes as he asks, “What about the guy downstairs?”

A drunken mistake was what that was. All sloppy lips and fumbling hands that had left you feeling more empty than anything, and which resulted in you sending Cheol away before he had even gotten a peek at your bedroom.

“We made out once,” you admit, hating that you’re even having to think about another man when Jungkook is here in front of you. “But nothing else happened.”

“Good,” he grunts, but his fingers dig into your backside like he’s trying to reclaim you. And just a fraction of a second later, he’s devilishly tonguing his lip ring as he winds his palm back to bring it down harshly against the meat of your ass, the smack echoing between the walls almost endlessly.

“Ride me, baby.”

You’re quick to line him up–desperate, at this point, to have him inside of you–and begin to ease yourself down slowly, trying to give your body the space and time to adjust to the burning stretch of his girth. He’s always filled you to your absolute limit, tested the furthest boundaries of how much your body can take with his size.

“Yesss,” he hisses, nipping at your neck once again. “You’re doing great, love. Always take me so fucking well.”

You gasp as he bottoms out, struggling to catch your breath with the relentless push of him. If you were a betting woman, you’d put money on your intestines being somewhere in the area of your throat right now.

He wraps his inked arm around your waist, continuing to whisper his praises against the shell of your ear as he starts to guide your body up and down. Intoxicated by the smooth slide of his length, you soon find your pace, and your shared moans fill the room–the whole city probably able to hear you right now.

You move that way until the pressure building becomes too much and your legs start to tremble, quivering against Jungkook’s own muscled thighs.

“It’s okay; I’ve got you.” He bands his arms around you and presses you to his chest, holding you in place so he can thrust upwards.

Hard.

You’re practically screaming now, burying your teeth into his shoulder so as to muffle your sounds and not scare the neighbors. It’s all you can do to hold on for dear life as he rapidly pistons his cock inside of you, the slap of your hips like a metronome.

It builds and builds until it breaks and you’re falling apart in his arms, the spasms of your inner walls pulling him over the edge with you as he empties his seed deep inside.

The silence that follows in unlike the others you previously shared this evening–tension traded for serenity as you sit on the couch holding each other, you still contentedly stuffed full of him. He traces the ridges of your spine in a soothing pattern that has your eyelids drooping, your cheek resting against the warm skin of his neck.

“I missed this,” you whisper once your brain has finally remembered how to construct human speech.

“I missed you.”

You pull back so you can rest your forehead against his and gently run a finger over the lines of his face. “Where do we go from here?”

He hums. Tucks a stray hair behind your ear. “Take it day by day?” he suggests. “We don’t need to rush into anything if you don’t want to.”

“Mm, that does seem like a problem for tomorrow.”

A dark eyebrow quirks, teasing. “And what about right now?”

“Now?” you ask. “Do you remember the way to the bedroom? Or…” You shift your hips, already feeling him twitching inside of you.

“Or.” He jolts forward to capture your mouth in a hot kiss, and you smile into it, whole again. “Or sounds good.”

a/n: pls like, reblog, reply, and/or send an ask if you enjoyed! <3

what money can buy

in need of money, jeongguk signs up as a sugar baby, assuming he’ll be paid for sex by some old kinky woman. he never expected to meet someone like you. what were you doing on that site, and why would you have to pay for company?

pairing: sugar baby!jk x rich/ceo female reader

genre: angst, fluff, implied smut but nothing more than kissing is described.

word count: 17.8k

warnings: reader occasionally suffers from “mild” depression, past family deaths. jeongguk is a sweetheart. also the whole “grey area” of sugar babying. it’s briefly discussed if it’s considered prostitution or not.

masterlist

© what money can buy is copyright jeonstudios 2020. this fic can not be modified, re-posted, or translated without my permission.

author’s note: for the bts ghostie network’s bingo, for “i’m losing my mind!”

Jeongguk feels like he’s been scrolling forever, and at this point, it’s surely animal abuse to force the poor mouse to click on yet another profile. Quick fingers do it anyway.

“Susie, 48. Likes pretty boys in skirts—okay, no,” he mumbles to himself as he goes back to scrolling through the list. 

Keep reading

blooming

pairing: jungkook x fem!reader trope: sunshine oc x grumpy jk au: florist!oc x tattoo artist!jk wc: 1k

a drabble request from anon for sunshine protector jk. honestly was doubting the capability of writing jk as a grump but anon, i hope i did it justice and i hope you like it! <3

the tiny bells attached to the entrance chimes as you enter the shop, the smell of fresh flowers greeting you so kindly in the morning. the hour leading up to opening is one of your favourite parts of the day. your flowers are your babies; you sing to them, you change their water, place them gently back into their little spaces, assemble new bouquets to put up for sale, then choose which ones go up front on the daily display.

upstairs, you hear the clinking and clanking of your neighbours. the tattoo parlour above starts a little later than your flower shop, usually seeing their first customer around noon. an unlikely combination, one which leaves most of their clients confused as they step inside, till you point out the steps to the right of your shop which leads up to the parlour. 

but you don’t complain. it brings a nice mix to your client pool. besides, your other favourite part of the day is getting to see your favourite tattoo artist. 

“ahem⎼”

you turn on your heel, snapping out of your thoughts. putting on your best service voice, you were ready to greet a customer, only to find the next best thing. “oh,” your face softens, “good morning jungkook.” 

“morning.” he leans against your counter and nods to the spread of flowers laid out on the long table behind you. “are those flowers that interesting? didn’t even hear me come through the doors, did you?”

“sorry,” you smile brightly, and he can’t help but to mirror it. “i was looking through this customer’s request. it’s a little odd.” 

“why?” 

“because see,” you bring the request ticket over from the table and lean over the counter so he can see it, “these flowers don’t go well together at all. and i know, i know, it’s a custom order. but as a florist, i should be able to tell them if i think it’s not a good combination right? i mean the colours are all over the place. look, you can’t have too many bold colours together, it’ll take away the beauty from each flower. plus it'll look so messy. but at the same time it’s their choice and they are paying for it so i don’t know.” 

jungkook looks at you with a blank expression. his arms are crossed on the counter, and his freshly washed hair rests nicely on his shoulders, curved at the ends. 

“what?” you ask him, shrugging like you didn’t just spit out an entire rant contemplating someone’s custom order.

“is it really that deep?” 

you give him an exasperated look. of course he wouldn’t get it.

he raises a brow, then smirks at your silence. you’re never quiet. not for long anyways. for a moment he wonders if he's hurt your feelings. he tends to do that sometimes. “i’m sure you’ll figure it out. besides, bold colours can look good together.” 

“but not always.” you drum your fingers on the counter, pursing your lips in thought. 

jungkook keeps staring. till your eyes flutter back to him, and you lock eyes for far too long and your heart starts racing. he blinks away first. dropping his bag and leaving his helmet on your counter, he walks across your shop and takes a look around before plucking out four flowers. two yellow flowers and two black ones. 

“hey!” you protest, “those are expensive!” 

jungkook ignores your nagging. he places them on the counter top and pairs them up, one yellow daisy with one black hellebore. then he starts intertwining their stems, creating a tiny knot at the bottom for each pair. the yellow and black flowers sit nicely next to the other. “see? they look good together, don’t they?” 

he reaches over and places one of them into the front pocket of your apron. the other, he slides across the counter in front of you. 

“or maybe not,” he shrugs, “you’re the florist here.” 

“execution could be better,” you giggle, admiring the flowers in your palm, “but it’s cute. maybe you should rethink your career. come and work with me instead!” 

jungkook lingers just to watch the way your eyes twinkle as you twirl the flowers between your fingers. all he did was tie two flowers together, yet you act like a kid with a new toy. and when you look up at him again and give him the widest grin, he decides it’s time to go (else he’d spend the entire day down here). 

he starts collecting his belongings, swinging his bag over his shoulder and grabbing his headgear. “oh,” he says, remembering, “this is for you.” 

he’d placed the cup carrier aside earlier while talking to you. jungkook checks the order plastered on the side of the cup before placing it in front of you. 

“wait but,” you start, “i don’t drink cof⎼”

“it’s earl grey.” 

your smile drops momentarily out of surprise. you had mentioned a while ago how you couldn’t stand the taste of coffee. 

“later, flower girl.” jungkook makes a turn for the steps. 

after the first few steps, he pauses when he feels something tugging on his arm. he turns to find you standing there, with the flower he’d made earlier in your hand. getting on your tiptoes, you tuck his hair back and gently place the daisy and hellbore combination behind his ear. 

“aw, you look pretty!” his brows furrow and you know he’s probably going to remove it as soon as he makes it up the steps but you don’t care. you wrap around him briefly before letting go. “thank you.” 

before he can say anything else, the bell chimes and you welcome your first customer of the day. jungkook walks up the steps with a roll of his eyes, listening to how excited you get as you go through your collection of flowers. how you could be so chirpy at this hour, he’ll never understand.

upstairs, he drops his stuff in his corner and brings suga his cup of coffee while sipping on his own. the older friend, sanitising his tools for the day, stops mid-clean. “what the hell is that?”

he refers to the flower behind jungkook’s ear. “oh. nothing.” 

“ah…” suga smiles, accepting his drink. “you and flower girl have been getting along well.” 

“she’s nice to talk to.” jungkook says, not thinking much of it. suga scoffs, knowing his friend too well. 

jungkook walks back to his corner, removing the flowers. his hand hovers over the trash can, flowers in his palm. he looks at it again, then smiles. instead, he places them on his desk, right next to the pressed flower coaster you had given him months back. he chuckles, looking at the contrast of these items to the rest of his workspace. 

sighing, he starts his day, with a flower blooming in his heart.

@motorcycle boy, | jjk

word count: 0.4k

genre: fluff, and no happy ending :<

authors note: oopsie, i literally should stop writing these small drabbles & actually work on the 3-4 fics in my draft box but,,,i just have a lot of ideas, okay?! so here we go, another drabble :D

⭑･ﾟﾟ･*:༅｡.｡༅:*ﾟ:*:✼✿　　✿✼:*ﾟ:༅｡.｡༅:*･ﾟﾟ･⭑

you walk on the wide streets. the evening sun casts long shadows onto the sidewalk. it had been an entire afternoon of ongoing rain, so when the rain finally stopped, you headed out to purchase some dinner.

you always liked sunsets. it meant the end of something, or, the start of something.

in this case, it started something.

you feel a whiff of wind attack your side. then within seconds, your white dress was completely covered with the muddy water from the puddles by the road. the wet water hits your skin and you finch at how icy cold it felt.

a motorcycle had driven by too fast, tire hitting a huge puddle so hard that it has splashed all over you. the motorcycle was long gone, without an apology, without a pause. the driver probably did not realize that they had just ruined someone’s clothing, and mood. you take a deep breath and slowly look down to observe the mess.

the solid pure white dress is soaking wet now, the torso part of the dress had turned completely transparent due to the wetness, sticking to your upper body, you feel your face start burning with speechlessness.

unlucky, eh?

you stay standing in your spot for a few seconds, now only contemplating if you should just head home or still head for dinner. after deciding that you should just head home, a motorcycle stopped right next to you. you stop in your tracks.

a boy wearing a black bomber jacket hops off the motorcycle in a swift motion and walks over to where you are standing. his facial features becoming clearer with every step he took. his doe eyes stay put on your face.

he slowly takes off his bomber jacket, revealing the white t-shirt underneath, then hands the jacket over to you.

“shit, the other dude that just splashed you is my friend, he probably didn’t notice you. sorry.”

you look at his tattooed boney hand, still offering his black jacket to you. then back onto your dress, maybe you can’t reject this offer. you reach out your hands to take the jacket out of his hands slowly and you feel yourself flinch again from the little ‘zap’ when your hands touch for the slightest bit.

he smiles boyishly and walks back to his motorcycle. then put on the helmet, preparing to drive off in silence.

“-wait!” you call out to him in a rush. “um.. can I have your contact? i’ll find a time to give your jacket back.” he looks up from his hands, still gripped onto the helmet. “nah. maybe we’ll see each other some other time.”

then he’s gone. left you standing alone, like before.

this city is so big,

and we are so small compared to it,

there’s no way we can meet again.

@motorcycle boy.

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ this is one of my micro-ficz!

(should i write a second part?! or should i just leave it with this ending?!)