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Never, Never Fall (myg)

Summary- A year after you broke off your engagement to the man you imagined spending forever with, he invites you to dinner out of the blue. 

word count- 7.9k (welp went over the 3k! 😅)

pairing- rapper!Yoongi x Reader 

rating- R

genre- angst, fluff, light smut, exes to lovers

warnings- allusions to depression, talks of low self esteem, semi-explicit smut including unprotected vanilla sex, a little (read: a lot) of crying, soft!Yoongi, workaholic!Yoongi, kindof idol!Yoongi (it’s Agust D y’all)

reading note- italics signify flashbacks.

a.n- This was commissioned by the lovely @bulletproofgucci for the army for aapi event. Thank you so much for your donation, Kristen and I hope this piece lives up to your standards! Remember you said not to be afraid to make it hurt 😉

Please consider donating and checking out the resources ARMY advocates has compiled!

A huge shout out to @hobiandsprite​ and @imyourhobiii​ for beta reading! You guys really be out here making sure I don’t sound like a dumbo 💕Also, thank you so much to @oftenderweapons​​, @casuallyimagining​​, @taegularities​​, and @hobiandsprite​​ for helping me brainstorm the ending and easing my worries through my random writer’s block.

As always feedback appreciated, a reblog and a like goes a far way. Send me an ask! 💌

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With a hand raised over your eyes, you blocked the late evening sun as you stepped out onto the sidewalk, stumbling a little over a crack. Despite the sun still beaming overhead, the autumn air was crisp, a dry burn over your face as you walked towards the restaurant, leaves crunching under your Chelseas. 

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give yourself a try | masterlist

pairing: yoongi x plus-sized female reader

genre: colleagues to lovers, angst, smut, mutual pining, coffee shop au

summary: You’ve got an enormous crush on Yoongi, the machine tech, and, if Jimin is to be believed, the feeling is mutual. A broken espresso machine and a snow storm are all it takes to bring everything crashing down around you.

rating: 18+ for sexual content and difficult subject matter

word count: 20k+

warnings for series: frequent POV changes. reader is insecure about her body and has a lot of internalized fatphobia. depictions and conversation about mental health and insecurity. panic attacks. conversations about angsty back story that includes medical issues, a medical diagnosis associated with fertility issues and potential infertility, and a break-ups because of these conditions. sexual content including but not limited to: making out in public, soft dom yoongi, oral sex, unprotected penetrative sex with other birth control in place, creampie. 

***be sure to read the complete warnings before each part!***

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The word 'adorable' was coined for these lot

The Three Little Kings Masterlist

FANART by @nomina-verus

0.5- Jaebeom: Engaged

0.6- Jinyoung: Let’s Play Pretend

Yugyeom: A Prince For Me

2jae: A World of Rainbows

Switch

Jingyeom: Liar, Liar (Pants on Fire)

Bambam: The Kingdom Beyond

Santa Baby

Markbam: A Brother’s Dream

A New Adventure

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Tales of D. Soul Cafe (Americano Version)

Masterlist | Finished | Fluff, Café!au | Mark X Reader | 2961

Today’s Quote: “I don’t want it to end this way. I don’t want it to end at all.” – The Notebook

“Damn it!” both drivers of the cars side by side each other say at the same time. There wasn’t any accident involving them. Their cars just stopped at the same time due to the heavy snow.

“Hello, Mark? What happened?” his father on the other line asks in worry.

“I’m fine, Dad,” Mark says.

He’s been on the phone with his dad for a while now since the family moved and it’s his first time visiting. He was supposed to be the navigator but no matter how clear the directions were, Mark finds it hard to see the road with the thick snow going down.

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Certainly on my top favorite

whispers in the dark | jhs

pairing: sleep paralysis demon hoseok x gender neutral reader (platonic)

genre: … fluff?? Angst. Post-break up au. Supernatural au.

summary: Hoseok just doesn’t have it in him to make you even more miserable right now, so he tries something a little different.

rating: 18+ because I do what I want

word count: 1.4k

warnings: Swearing. Sleep paralysis. Creepy sleep paralysis demon Hoseok a la the “More” concept photos. Watching people while they’re sleep but not in an erotic way lol. Referenced Jimin x reader; technically a post break-up situation. Some image self-consciousness from Hoseok. Platonic spooning. Lots of talk about feeling or sensing smells and emotions. I know it seems creepy but really this is very soft, I promise.

notes: Ah wow, this is short but there’s so much in here. It started in a group chat with “idk what to do with more hoseok in the best way” and then it turned into me and @bangtanintotheroom​ taking “this hobi is our sleep paralysis demon” and running with it in two wildly different directions sldkjfhaslkdj. I know I’m supposed to be on break but like after finishing stuff last month, I had this whole “will I ever write again” crisis. Without @thatlongspringnight​ and @xjoonchildx​ this wouldn’t be here, and I wouldn’t feel ten million times better now than I did leading up to my meltdown. So, thank you. It means the world to me. I’m just going to yeet this into the void and get out but I miss yall!! Hope you’re having a nice July, wherever you may be :)

my masterlist | my disclaimers | read on ao3

Hoseok hasn’t gotten the chance to stretch like this in ages. As he steps across the lush carpet, he lets his muscles lengthen and move. It’s dusty and cramped in his little crawlspace, even with his cleaning regime. When was the last time you let him out his literal hellhole? 

He looks at your sleeping form. You’re passed out, that’s for sure, huddled beneath layers of sheets and blankets. The dawn is beginning to trickle through your curtains, your eyelids freely fluttering in deep sleep, unencumbered by the sleep mask that’s somehow slipped off during the night. 

He can feel how frozen you are, how you want to turn over to a more comfortable position but can’t. Ah, it’s been so long since he could feed freely like this. What a wonderful welcome you’ve decided to give him.

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This is gold

The more you hate

Pairing: Jung Hoseok x Reader

Summary: They say there is a thin line between love and hate. But they never told him crossing that line was dangerous. Idol!AU

Warnings: Yandere behavior, Obsessiveness, Possessiveness, Manipulative behavior, Power imbalance, Sexual themes, If you’re not 18+ please, PLEASE, do not interact. Be mindful of the warnings. Let me know if I miss anything.

A/N: see, he was serving looks for days in Paris that I knew I had to do this 😭 this is an 8k one-shot. I hope you enjoy!

Jung Hoseok’s smile faltered when you entered the dressing room, much to Jimin’s amusement. He was in the middle of a sentence, literally in the middle and the moment you entered, Hobi faltered. This was not the first time. No- this had been happening ever since you became one of the group’s temporary staff. It had been three months now, and not a day went by that he did not flounder when you entered the room he was in.

One may think it was because the main dancer liked you.

They couldn’t be more wrong.

Hobi could not stand you. He could not even smile at you. He could not even mention your name without gagging. And yes, he was that dramatic.

Jimin watched his hyung as the said hyung followed your movement with daggers in his eyes. It entertained him to no end. He, together with the other members, could not pinpoint the reason why the seemingly always happy J-hope treated you that way. Regardless, he would take advantage of Hobi’s current state.

“So my take is okay now, right?” Jimin asked slyly, taking advantage of the fact that you were now here and that he wouldn’t have to suffer anymore on another take just because it was not up to his standard.

Hobi nodded absentmindedly, drinking from his water bottle as he kept on watching, well…more like glaring on your form.

“You don’t think I should move a little to the left, right?” Jimin clarified with mischief in his eyes. Hobi blinked before turning to him. He looked at the tablet he was holding where the dance record was transferred for him to review. He frowned before looking down at it again.

“Jimin, I think you should do-“

“Hey guys, back to studio in five minutes,” you passed on the order from the director, your smile pleasant and respectful as you looked at Jimin, and slowly shifted your gaze at the emotionless Hobi who didn’t even lift his eyes to look at you.

“Okay, Y/N. Thank you,” Jimin replied before telling you that they would be there. You nodded your head slowly, glancing at the stoic Hobi before lowering your gaze and going back to the studio. It was no secret to the other staff, and to the members as well, that treated you differently. He didn’t even attempt to conceal it, no. He made it obvious.

He would literally stop laughing when you entered the room.

He would stop talking to his members when he caught sight of you.

Hell, you thought that if could stop breathing just to not share the air you breathe, he would.

Which was ironic to you considering that you were here for him.

And which was a shame, really. You did love his smile.

“Hyung?” Jimin called him for the third time since you left.

“Yes, Jimin. Your take is perfect.”

The following week was the group’s video shooting for their music video. It had been a hectic week for everyone, including you. You were tired, yet seeing the art made by them come to life was everything. You felt like you were part of a masterpiece, despite you working from behind the scenes. Everything was going well, except for the current part of the MV.

If looks could kill, you’d be buried six feet underground now. Hobi was getting distracted with the way you were laughing with another staff. A male staff. How dare you laughed with another man, he thought. You should be serious. You were working. What was more important to you than your job, he thought. He was so occupied at throwing daggers with his eyes- daggers that you didn’t notice, that he missed his cue for the fifth time. The director yelled cut, gesturing for them to go back to their original position.

Taehyung sighed before whining, “Hyung, what is the problem?”

He didn’t say a thing for a moment that younger man thought he wouldn’t reply. Taehyung was about to go back to his original position when he finally said something.

“I need a coffee. An iced coffee,” Hobi suddenly declared, his eyes still trained at you.

“Do you want my coffee, hyung? I barely took a sip from it!” Jungkook quipped up, on his way to grab his iced coffee when Hobi shook his head.

“No, I want a fresh iced coffee,” he replied in a fake sadness that Namjoon definitely didn’t buy. Suga rolled his eyes. The two of them saw Hobi’s eyes trained on you. They knew what he was doing. They weren’t born yesterday. “In fact, Y/N, why don’t you buy me coffee?” He called out to you, deliberately increasing his voice to get yours and the whole staff’s attention.

You blinked owlishly once you realized that he called for you for the first time in months. You felt everyone’s eyes on you, waiting for you to move. Hoseok sauntered to you, his smile seemed permanent on his face yet his eyes looked cold as he glanced at the man you were talking.

“You know that coffee shop where we bought our coffee last week?” He asked quietly, his tone pleasant. You couldn’t help but nod- so unaccustomed to his proximity. “Can you please buy me an iced vanilla latte?”

You cleared your throat, “S-sure,” you said before turning to look behind him, specifically to the six other members who were looking at the two of you with varying reactions: Jimin seemed like he was generally having a good time, V looked like he was still confused, JK was pouting that his hyung didn’t like his coffee, while RM looked like he was done with everything, Jin was whispering at Suga, and lastly, Suga especially looked sleepy. “Does anyone else want coffee?”

Suga immediately raised his hand, and at the same time, J-hope who never took his eyes off of you lost his smile. “Nobody else wants coffee, right? She’s just going to buy for me,” he announced, turning to look at them with smile on his face, pointedly ignoring Suga’s raised hand.

“Go along now. I’m craving for something sweet,” he murmured with a smirk before turning to walk back to his position.

“But it’s a one-hour drive,” you realized to yourself, already calculating that it would take you more than two hours to travel back and forth, and waiting for the order. You just prayed that there weren’t a lot of people at this hour.

“I guess you have to run along now, Y/N,” Hobi said cheerily, raising his fist as if to gesture ‘fighting’ to you.

You were running as fast as you could without spilling the coffee you were holding. It was more than two hours, and you were stressing. Your co-worker a few minutes ago messaged you that they were almost done with the shoot. You feared that you were already too late. To your defense, he did send you to buy him a coffee knowing full well that it was a full hour away without the traffic. Your temper was shooting up. You were not the most patient person in the world to begin with. He was not like said this in the beginning. In fact, he was normal with you. He smiled, he laughed, he said thank you every time you did something for him- and then one day he just stopped. You thought you had offended him somehow. It was a good thing that you were only a temporary here. In all honesty, all you just wanted was to repay him for the kindness he showed you when you were at your lowest, when you thought that life and everything good in it left you.

So what happened to him?

Where did it all go wrong?

You entered the studio, seeing only few of the staff remained to pack up. The rest were security patrolling the building before calling it a day. They told you that the members left, but that J-hope might still be in the building. With a sigh that you prayed could provide you the patience you didn’t possess, you went up to his room. But when you arrived, he wasn’t there, and only his assistant was left. And that was how you knew your prayers weren’t answered. You offered her a tired smile before turning around.

“Oh, you’re here! He’s been waiting for you,” his assistant said in relief, instructing you to go to the parking lot.

Which you complied.

You hated how he had you running like a dog. You were starting to think if he was really that man who showed you kindness when you needed it the most a few years ago. Did you play that scene too many times that you started to place more meaning to it? Did you hold on to that memory for far too long that you had started to romanticize that moment?

Still, nevertheless, he did save you that day.

You only wished to pay his kindness back.

Finally, you saw him leaning against his car, his attention focused on his fancy cellphone. He looked serious, his brows pinched together. J-hope was now barefaced, and he was now only wearing a white button down shirt and pants which somehow made him more attractive and manly. Regardless, your patience was running thin and no amount of his attractiveness could alleviate what you were feeling.

You meant, who would order an iced coffee knowing full well that by the time it arrived, all the ice would have long melted by then?! He knew it was a two-hour travel, and yet he still insisted. Your steps were quick, and quite frankly sounding provoked that he looked up before you could even call his attention. You handed him the iced coffee carelessly, the content slushing around and not even the lid could saved him from the escaped droplets. He looked down at his drenched hand, not knowing why it didn’t irritate him. He shook his head with amusement in his eyes before turning his attention to you.

“How’s the travel? I hope it wasn’t too much of a hassle,” he lamented in a fake sympathy. He didn’t know why he enjoyed tormenting you, why he wanted all your attention on him. He couldn’t pinpoint the reason why, and he was too naive to realize it himself.

You knew he was testing you, waiting for you to take the bait. But you wouldn’t give him the satisfaction, no. You smiled at him, about to answer him when he lifted his hand that was now dripping from a little coffee and licked it, savoring in the rich taste of the coffee. All while looking at you.

It was too…sexy(?!) for you that you choke on nothing. You felt your cheeks heated up from that that you forgot what you were going to say for a moment.

“Y/N?”

“W-what?”

“Would you drive me home?”

See, why did you say yes? You were just too weak when he was paying attention to you, or when he said please. Or when he looked at you with his soulful eyes that you thought held a little too much emotions, both sadness and euphoria.

Why then did he only let people see his happiness, but never his desolation? Never his regret? Never his weariness?

You watched him warily as you maneuvered out of the basement parking lot. He was sitting beside you, leaning his head on the head rest. He had his eyes shut closed that you could observed him freely. He looked tired, evidenced by his slumbering form.

You thought that it must have been so exhausting to project a happy, lively image every single day.

And so, you told yourself you’d give him the time to sleep by driving as peacefully as you could- which was not easy because you weren’t a good driver in the first place. You thought that it was a miracle you were able to pass your driving test when the examiner looked like he was holding on for dear life. But you knew the road signages, knew the laws, knew the do’s and dont’s, and so by miracle, you were able to pass your exam.

Driving on the main road was no easy feat. You were intimidated by the fast cars, and because of that, you were driving even slower than usual that the less than one-hour drive to his house turned to an almost two-hour drive. The man sleeping beside you was not even aware of what was happening, lost in his own dreams. The movement of the car moved his head to the side, facing you. He was even more angelic when he wasn’t busy glaring at you. He was even more ethereal when he wasn’t giving you meaningless tasks. In the silence of the car, absent of the noise that his world brought, he shone more.

Sometimes you couldn’t believe you were with him now, that you were breathing the same air he was breathing, that you could see him the whole day when he was just a mere memory of your darkest day- the day you buried your parents.

You were numb, so numb that you could barely feel your tears falling freely from your eyes. Your black, funeral dress was in contrast with the gentle picture that the sunset was quietly painting. You were staring at the ocean, the forgiving way the waves kissed the sand didn’t bring you peace. You thought that nothing could bring you peace anymore, that from this day forward, all you would feel was the cold loneliness from losing the only family you had. You thought that you would ran out of tears now that a week passed since you lost your adoptive parents from a horrendous accident. But the tears never stopped. And your heart never ceased to break.

You didn’t know how long you sat on the sand, you didn’t know how many tears fell, or how you were the picture perfect of melancholy. But Jung Hoseok knew, that day he knew.

Your hair had long fell from its confines, now freely flowing with the wind when you turned to look behind you. There, you saw him. He was sitting on the sand just like you. He was resting his arms on his knees. The young man was looking at the sea. He looked so serene, yet his eyes were troubled.

“I thought you’d never stop crying,” he voiced out. He had been sitting there almost as long as you. He came to clear his thoughts, only to find a young woman crying on her own. It was a difficult time for him. He thought that his career was not going anywhere, that he was wasting his time, that no matter how hard he worked, their group wouldn’t make it. He felt like his dream was a like a punch to the moon- impossible. He was torn between giving up and trying, yet this time as a soloist. To add salt to the wound, he watched as everyone received fan letters but him. Jung Hoseok had problems of his own.

So why then did he choose to stay?

He didn’t know why, but he never had the heart to leave you alone. Something was telling him that he was supposed to be here, that he shouldn’t leave you alone.

That you needed him.

You sniffed at the young man with a kind face behind you. He thought you were the most beautiful person in the world, regardless of the endless pit of sadness you were drowning in. He didn’t smile at you. You didn’t need a smile right now. He wordlessly stood up, walked near you, and placed in your hand a white handkerchief. “Cry more if you want. I’ll wait until you’re done,” he stated. And you did. You cried so hard, you cried so much until no tears fell anymore. All the while, he stood there with his hands in his pockets, his eyes trained on the crashing waves. He was humming a song you weren’t familiar with, but you found it soothing. You found him calming.

“You must think I’m a lunatic,” you whispered, his handkerchief drenched with your tears.

He shook his head, “It’s not crazy to cry. It’s how you express the love that has nowhere else to go,” he said tonelessly, as if it was just the truth of life. And it was. “What’s crazy is that people stop themselves from feeling when we aren’t made to not feel. If you’re sad, then cry. If you’re happy, then laugh. It’s not crazy to cry. It’s human to cry.”

He finally looked down at you. He didn’t know why he cared so much when he had burdens of his own. But he wanted you to know, “You’re not alone. I don’t think you were put in this world to be alone.”

No one, not even your closest family friends knew what to say to the pitiful young orphan that was you. Their words seemed empty to you. Their hugs seemed meaningless to you. But this young man that you didn’t even know stood by you as you cried. This man was able to comfort you more than anyone could. This man told you that you weren’t alone. And you held on to that. That day was your saving grace.

It was almost a year ago, yet you didn’t forget him. You couldn’t. His handkerchief was still with you, a remembrance of the day you felt like the world turned its back on you. You were walking to your university, enjoying the calm breeze of the morning when you heard a song from the store you were passing.

That same melody.

That same unfamiliar song he was humming.

Without any thought, you entered the store and saw that the owner was watching a performance by an unknown group. And there he was.

That day, you learned his name.

That same day, you wrote his first fan letter.

J-hope opened his eyes. For the first time in months, he felt rested. It was dark outside, he noted. He was still in the car. He turned to look at you, and there you were smiling so gently at him.

“Slept well, sleepy head?”

The car was parked in front of his house for almost an hour. You didn’t have the heart to wake him up, and so you stayed with him. He deserved the rest after all the hard work he was putting to their craft. Without any makeup on, he looked just like the young man you met on that day. He looked younger without the stress that was piling up on him.

“Why didn’t you wake me up?” He asked, his voice still laced with sleep. “And why didn’t you park the car inside the house?”

“Well, I can definitely park your car. But I can’t assure you that I won’t scratch your car,” you confessed. You sucked at parking, as pitiful as that sounded. He blinked at you before laughing- a real one this time. He always laughed but it wasn’t always out of happiness that you hated hearing his fake laughters, loathed seeing his fake smiles.

“Cute,” he whispered. He wasn’t able to stop himself.

“What?”

“I said you looked like a shoe,” he scoffed before getting out of his car. He rounded the car, and opened the door for you.

“That doesn’t even make any sense!” You pointed out, looking at him indignantly. You looked like a shoe? What did that even mean?!

J-hope smirked, before leaning down and pressing the seatbelt to release you. His face was so near you that you could clearly see his eyes. You loved the color of his eyes, the quintessential blend of brown. You loved his face. You loved how you thought he had the perfect bone structure, how straight he nose was, the perfect size for his face. You loved how he was the perfect embodiment of everything good in this world.

Wait, what? Loved? You meant, you liked his eyes and his face!

He was so near that you could feel his heat. He was not satisfied that he even leaned closer, his arm resting beside your hips while the other was propped beside your head. He was so near that you could smell his manly scent. He looked at your eyes, before whispering, “Get out.”

See, he didn’t even thank you that day.

The end of all the shootings was marked by a celebration party. All the staff, together with the members, were having fun dancing, eating, and drinking in a hotel solely rented by the company. You were exhausted beyond measure, and not just because of work. Specifically, it was because of J-hope that had you running all around the town as if you were his own personal assistant. Not only that but his mood swings drained you. Who knew this person was so moody, you thought.

“You’re a fashion design graduate?” Your male co-staff asked you in disbelief. You chuckled before you took a sip of your drink. “Then why are you working as a staff here?”

You explained to him that you were waiting for the result of your application to work for a brand you believed and supported abroad. You did interviews virtually and now you were eagerly waiting for the response. You couldn’t wait to finally live your dream, the one you had the strength to reach because you promised yourself that day to never give up.

You turned to look beside you and you almost jumped when you saw Yoongi silently drinking his choice of alcohol. How could he move so silently? And how long had he been sitting there?

“Do you want anything else, Yoongi? I’ll get it for you,” you offered politely to one of the members, smiling at him when he shifted his eyes to you.

“So you’re leaving?” He asked instead of answering your inquiries. It was out of nowhere that it took you a moment to realize he heard your plans.

“Oh, u-uhm. Yes, that’s my life plan”

“Hmm,” he thought of the headache that was about to come, seeing as from across the room, Hoseok was already throwing daggers at him with his eyes. “What did Hoseok say about that?”

You blinked owlishly in confusion, wondering why he brought up what he thought of your decision. “I didn’t tell him. But the company knows I’m only temporary here,” you trailed off your explanation, seeing the stoic Suga looked stressed. “No worries, though! I’ll make sure to finish all my commitments before I leave,” you hurriedly assured him, mistaking his silence for his apprehension on work. After all, he was known for being a workaholic.

Suga was certain it was not smart to hide this from Hoseok.

Another hour passed and you weren’t able to keep track of your alcohol intake. Everyone was loose, and the staff you grew closed to kept on drinking more and more. It was bad, you drank more than you should evidenced by your slurred words and your barely focused eyes.

“Noona, you’re drunk,” he noted as Jungkook kneeled in front of you, checking your current state with his worried, doe eyes. In your eyes, there were two Jungkook- two muscular Jungkook that looked at you with concern. “Come on. I’ll help you,” he said worriedly, placing your arm around his neck as he guided you to stand up. He, with Namjoon, had been helping the drunk staff get to their rooms, seeing as they were one of the few sober people here. He was about to lift you up when Hoseok who had been going back and forth about helping you showed up. He told himself he didn’t care, that you were merely a nuisance to him and that your presence disturbed his composure. On the other hand, something about another man touching you just didn’t seem right to him.

He guessed the possessive side of him won that night.

“Jungkookie,” he called the youngest member, clapping his muscular shoulder once. “I’ll take care of her. You go help Namjoon.”

Jungkook faltered once, looking at his hyung with hesitancy in his eyes. Didn’t he hate you? Wasn’t it just last week that Hobi saw you laughing at V’s joke? And that he said that if you had time to joke around and laugh with other people, then you’d have time to take his car for maintenance. That took you two hours. Plus the drive back to the company. Plus he made you drive him to his home.

And then he made you cook him dinner.

“Are you sure, hyung?” It didn’t escape Hobi’s eyes that the maknae still did not let you go. “I can bring her up real quick and then help Namjoon hyung-“

“Jungkook. Go help Namjoon,” Suga ordered quietly, his stance relaxed that he didn’t have any choice but to place you gently back on the sofa. See, how could he slither up to anywhere without making a sound? He was like a cat, Jungkook swore in amazement.

“You know what you’re doing, right, Hoseok?” Suga clarified with Hobi, his voice bored as if he didn’t care either way. But he did. The whole members were at lost with how Hobi was treating you. It was unlike him. He was always the first to smile at anyone, always the first to offer a helping hand, the first to make anyone feel welcome.

So what made you an outlier?

“Because if you don’t, I suggest you start thinking of the reason why you’re like this. And stop playing with her.”

J-hope carried you in his arms, your dizzy head leaning on his chest. This close and you could inhale his musky, manly scent. He did smell good despite the smell of alcohol lingering on his shirt. His body was warm- the kind that was pleasant and felt like home.

Carefully, he laid you on the bed, supporting your head until it hit the pillow. With softness you didn’t know he possessed for you, he placed a blanket on your body after he made sure you drank enough water.

He knew he should leave, he knew he did the decent thing. Why then did he not want to leave you when you were this vulnerable? Why then did he want to stay?

Why then did he falter when all he wanted to do was brush the hair off of your face?

And why was he fighting against himself?

His hand hovered just above your skin, gently tracing the outline of your cheeks, of your nose, of the way your lips protruded.

The way your eyelashes softly fluttered against your cheeks was endearing. The way your brows furrowed in your sleep unknowingly made him smile. You were so ethereal in his eyes, that he made up his mind. With extreme gentleness, he brushed you hair off of your face. This close and he could see the marks on your skin, proving further how you were made so uniquely, how marvelously you were created. He caressed your cheek with the back of his hand, no longer wondering how soft your skin was because this time, he knew. Perhaps, he was not in control as he initially thought because he found himself touching your lips with his thumb. And at that time, he could have swore he wanted nothing more than to kiss you, to feel your lips against his, to know what you tasted.

He looked so lost, his eyes trained on your lips that he didn’t notice you looking at him. And when he met your eyes, you didn’t say anything. You merely waited, waited so sweetly, anticipating what his decision would be. Yet, for the life of you, you wished you wouldn’t be alone.

J-hope would have stepped back if not for your hand holding on to his. “I don’t want to be alone,” you confessed, seeing the same loneliness that haunted you each night in his eyes. “Can’t you stay?” You whispered.

You didn’t have to ask twice.

He was only meant to stay until you fell back asleep. He only meant to sit beside you, not lie down on the bed facing your slumbering form. He only meant to be here temporarily. He only meant to keep his distance- so why then did you have your hand buried in his chest? Why then did he hold it close to him? Because now, no one could tear him away from you. Now, he was looking at you with as if the truth itself was glaring at him, willing him to finally see what he was desperately misunderstanding.

He sighed with the realization that his hatred for you was a misunderstood emotion, something that he didn’t know he could experienced in this life. The line between love and hate was definitely thin. He didn’t know when he crossed it, he just knew he couldn’t go back.

“Why are you still so good to me?” He asked despite knowing you wouldn’t answer. How could you take all the shit he had been throwing at you? How could you continuously asked him everyday if he was okay, if he needed anything? How could you still smile at him when he had been anything but good to you?

He thought you wouldn’t answer, but you did.

And in your haze, you whispered, “Because you saved me.”

The six members were all gathered in their communal room. They were all looking at each other, waiting for anyone to start. It was apparent to them that J-hope didn’t come home last night. In fact, Jungkook happened to pass by the hallway at six in the morning, looking for food because he was starving when the door to your hotel room opened. And there he came face to face with the disheveled, clothes-wrinkled, Hoseok.

“Do you think…he killed her?” He voiced out his concern, eyes wide as he looked at his hyungs.

Jimin chuckled at the youngest member’s innocence. He was the first one to notice how different his hyung was when it came to you. He was just glad that finally after tirelessly looking at the two of you interacted, his hyung finally made a move.

“He likes her,” RM finally spoke up, his eyes trained on the book he was reading.

“Really?” Taehyung asked in disbelief. How could he not see it?

“Tae, you’re so dense,” Jin bellowed, throwing V the pillow he was holding. “Don’t you have eyes?”

“Shit, he’s here!” Jimin alerted them when he saw his hyung opening the door. “Quick act natural!”

The freshly showered main dancer entered the room. He looked like he had rested well. Everyone avoided eye contact with him. It was apparent to him that Jungkook blabbered what he saw this morning. With a sigh, he looked at the culprit who had his head buried on a book.

“Jungkook, how’s that book?”

“It’s very educational, hyung!”

“Interesting,” he said in a deadpanned voice before walking to him, grabbing the book, and flipping it upside down. “Very interesting. I didn’t know you could read that way.”

He turned to look at Suga who had his eyes closed, his head bent in an unnatural manner that he was certain it was not comfortable.

“Suga hyung, stop pretending to sleep. There is no way anyone can sleep in that position.”

Yoongi cleared his throat before sitting up straight as if he wasn’t called on his lie. “How was your night?”

“It was…good,” he replied with a genuine smile on his face that Suga couldn’t help but mirror it on his own. Hoseok deserved to be happy, that was what they all thought.

He hadn’t slept that well in a long time, but he noticed that whenever he was with you he felt like he could rest. Like he could close his eyes and it would be okay because you were there. Like he could shed the happy persona he was wearing and just be himself. Like he could feel emotions other than happiness he was showing to the world.

The problem now was that he spent all his time antagonizing you that he was sure you wouldn’t give him the time of the day. To which, Taehyung articulated that maybe, he should try being kind to you.

So yes, he did try doing that. But now, you looked at him suspiciously. Just the other day, he passed you a bottle of water because he thought you looked a little parched. You passed it back to him with the lid opened, much to his shocked. Did you think he was asking you to open it for him?!

The next time, he opened the bottle himself and passed it to you, this time you thought he wanted a colder one so you went to fetch him that. His jaw literally dropped when you passed him the bottle. He even bought you flowers, certain that you would loved it. In fact, you loved it so much you put it in a vase only for J-hope to find it displayed in his office. Jin laughed himself to the floor when he saw it.

You were preoccupied with the instruction being disseminated, your eyes focused on the schedule given that you didn’t notice your shoelace was untied. Without much thought, Jung Hoseok leaned down on his knee, his mind focused on the task. You almost didn’t notice that the noise suddenly stopped, and that all eyes were on you. Slowly, you looked down to find his head bent down as he tied your shoelace. His brows were furrowed, engrossed in his task. He looked up suddenly, meeting your eyes. You felt your cheeks heating up from his gesture. He smirked and he thought that you would finally get it.

You didn’t. To which RM advised that he made it obvious this time, to make you actually noticed him, to leave you no choice but to notice him.

The following week was the group’s schedule to film somewhere remote for their segment. It was a three-day trip. You looked around the basement parking, wondering where your co-staff were. Weren’t you all supposed to drive there together? You were about to call them on your phone when you saw J-hope leaning against his car, his eyes trained on you.

“About time you show up. Let’s go,” he sighed. You guessed you were going to have to drive him again. And here you thought that you’d get to catch up on your sleep. You opened the door when Hoseok slammed it shut again, his manly hand beside your head as it rested on the door. Here he was again, standing so near you that you had no choice but to step back. But this time, you couldn’t. You were between him and the car.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m…going to drive?” You answered unsurely, breath hitching as he leaned in even further. If you thought he was handsome when he was smiling, the serious Hoseok did things to your heart.

“I’m driving. That’s why I waited for you.”

“Yeah, but why? Don’t I always drive you?”

Why was it hard flirting with you, he thought.

You watched him from the corner of your eye as he drove with one hand, the other resting on the stick gear. He had coffee prepared for you in his car, even a bottle of water for the travel. He was being so uncharacteristically kind and considerate to you that you were becoming suspicious now.

“Your hair looks so beautiful,” he complimented all of a sudden that you almost sputtered out the water you had been drinking. What did he mean? You didn’t even wash your hair today. Was he insulting you? Was he complimenting you? At this point, did anyone know what was going on?

“Did I do something wrong?”

“What?”

“I don’t know. You seem different now. If I did something wrong, I’m sorry.”

He looked at you with confusion in his face, holding your eyes for a moment before turning his attention back to the road. “Just because I said your hair is beautiful?”

When you only blinked at him, lost for words when he looked puzzled himself before a shadow of understanding passed through his expressive face. “You don’t remember that night, do you?”

“What night?”

And there it was. He thought that he already made progress with you. And it turned out that you remember none of it.

The members watched as you and J-hope arrived with anticipation in their faces, only for Hoseok to shake his head. He spent the whole three days literally glued to your side. He brought you food, he opened water bottles for you, he sat beside you wherever you were, even going as far as glaring at any man who had the audacity to sit beside you. Most of all, he made you laughed. He listened to whatever you had to say with laser focus, as if you were the most interesting person in the world. And one night, when you all had too much to drink, he sat beside you and held your hand in his in the darkness of the night.

You could admit that as much as you didn’t want to, being this close to him was affecting you. Which was bad. Because you knew you couldn’t and shouldn’t fall for him, that you shouldn’t get attached because this would end badly for you. You were leaving. And you were just here to make his life a little bit easier as a repayment to what he unknowingly did for you. And so, you started steering clear of his path for his sake, but also for the sake of your heart. Whenever you saw him, you’d suddenly have an errand to do. Whenever he was about to go to you, you’d suddenly join a group of people so he wouldn’t come. You even went as far as jumping at the last car, which happened to be Suga’s, just so you wouldn’t be with Hoseok. Suga looked at you weirdly before looking at the window, and then sighing. You were only glad that he drove without a word.

“Don’t you like him?” He asked in a bored tone after driving for half an hour. “And don’t lie to me.”

You blushed as you looked anywhere but him. Truth, you found out, was harder to deny once it was verbalized, once it was said. You could hardly deny the truth when you kept it in yourself, what would happen to you then if you say it?

“Can I trust you?” You asked in a small voice. You weren’t close to him, but you knew he was quiet, that he was like a Cheshire cat, merely sitting there quietly and observing, always observing. From the few interactions you had with him, you knew he only had his members’ best interest in heart. He was asking not because he was curious, no. He was asking because he cared for Hoseok.

“You can,” he replied in that deep voice of his. “Or you can’t. It’s up to you.”

You smiled at his answer, this was really who Suga was. And so, you decided to tell the truth.

“I do… but this is not going anywhere. What I feel for him is irrelevant,” you began, your lips twitching as you played with your fingers nervously. “He is a good man.”

Yoongi nodded as he silently drove, lost in his own thoughts. His mind must have been interesting, it must have been too complexed that you wondered how he would act when he fell. You didn’t know if you admire or pity the woman who would have the bravery to fall for him.

“That’s not for you to decide, Y/N. At least tell him.”

You wouldn’t.

You walked quietly after you made sure that he was not around. It had been a week of successfully avoiding Hoseok and you could see that he was becoming displeased with your actions. It was apparent to him that you were avoiding him, much to his vexation. But this ended now.

You were on your way to a meeting, in your hand was your planner. This was your last month, your contract was almost through. Your thoughts were immersed with things you needed to do that you didn’t notice that it was peculiar you were the first one in the small conference room. You waited for the other attendees of the meeting, lost in your own world as you wrote on your planner. The door opened and closed, and you lifted your head with a smile on your face ready to greet whoever that was when you saw him. He entered the room with a blank face, never turning his back on you as he pressed the lock. He walked around the table and sat on it, perching his lap on the edge as he faced you. His eyes looked tired. It took him a moment before he broke the silence.

“You’re avoiding me,” he stated as though he didn’t need your answer.

“I’m not-“ you started denying when he tilted his head to the side, his expression even going more serious. You recognized this face, the expression he used when he was coaching on the dance routines. You looked at your lap, anywhere just to avoid his intense gaze. Yet, you could not escape him. You were too hyperaware of his presence, of his larger than life presence that made you want to say yes to whatever he wanted. His thigh was almost touching your hand that was on the table.

“Why are you avoiding me, angel?” He asked gently, terrified that you’d up and leave like the last few days. You couldn’t even deny when he already saw right through your bullshit. You were afraid to look into his eyes because then he would see, he would know what you felt. When you still didn’t lift your eyes to him, he held your hand, bringing it to his lap. To be honest, he was scared. He hated the feeling of not seeing you, of not talking to you, of not having you near him. “Tell me, hmm? Tell me and I’ll fix whatever it is.”

Your lips quivered. It had been too log since anyone told you they’d fix it for you, that they’d take care of it for you. You had been alone for far too long that hearing that hurt you. What you felt for him terrified you. For so long you looked at him as though he was your savior, and now you were looking at him like he could be something more when you knew you were setting yourself for another heartache- one that you wouldn’t survive. Hoseok lifted your hand to his lips, softly kissing your palm, his eyes never leaving yours. “Tell me.”

“I-I think,” you began before trailing off. You chewed on your bottom lip, your eyes trained on his chest. You still couldn’t look at him, still could not f the life of you look at him as you told him the truth.

“You think what, angel?” He repeated gently, urging you to continue.

“I think…I’m falling in love with you,” you finally said as you shut your eyes closed, waiting for his disgust.

Yet it never came.

He was silent, so silent that it terrified you. You were pulling your hand away from his when he tightened his hold on you. It left you no choice but to look up at him…only to find him with a genuine smile on his face.

“Good,” he whispered, his face losing the tense look it had moments ago. Now, J-hope was happy, utterly happy. And it showed. “Because I already fell.”

He tilted your chin further, and slowly, so slowly he leaned in. His jaw was set hard with concentration, his eyes trained on you. And then you felt his lips on yours. It was soft, a kind of kiss reserved for first kisses, the one where one wanted to savor the moment. He kissed you once, twice- and then he leaned back, opened his eyes and looked at you as if asking you if that was okay. And when you nodded, J-hope decided he wanted more. The kiss began to get more heated. Suddenly, he lifted you from your seat and placed you on top of the table. He grabbed your waist and pulled you closer, so close that you could feel the growing hardness of his member. You have been kissed before, but certainly not like this. Certainly not by someone as grand as him. Certainly not the kind of kiss where time felt like it stood still. You could feel his tongue inside you, keen on discovering every inch of you. It was too much, it was too many emotions that you didn’t know how to handle them. You felt his other hand possessively around the back of your neck. You thought it was forever before he stopped kissing you. He leaned his forehead on yours, breathing hard as he leveled you with his intense gaze.

“You’re mine now, right, angel?” He asked as he looked at you with his lust-filled eyes.

Were you his?

Could you be his?

It was as if you were awaken, as if the haze that surrounded you was now gone and in its place was the hard truth that you weren’t supposed to be with him because you were leaving.

You shook your head, your hands pushing on his chest. “No. I’m sorry,” you whispered, tears brimming on your eyes “We can’t.”

In his weakened state and shocked, you were able to push him away. You ran to the door without looking back, and left him.

What happened, he thought in confusion. He was about to follow you when he noticed that you left your planner in your haste to escape. He was about to pick up the open planner when something piqued his curiosity.

Your handwriting seemed familiar to him. He tilted his head to the side, trying to remember why this seemed like a piece of a puzzle to him. He racked his brain, trying to remember something… And then he got it. He remembered this handwriting, the same handwriting that he had framed in his office- his first fan letter. He looked at it for hours back when he wanted to give up, and until now he looked at it with gratitude that someone believed in him when he wanted to give up.

It was you. He finally found you.

If this wasn’t fate, then he didn’t know what it was.

It almost buried the hurt he was feeling when you pushed him away. Almost. He was almost okay. But then he saw you marked the date of your last day in the company- and on the next page was the list of things you needed to accomplish because you leave the country. You were leaving the country. You were fucking leaving him.

You couldn’t leave, no. Not when he finally found you. Not when he only felt this way with you. Not when this was fate itself. Not when he was irrevocable so in love with you, not when he couldn’t even begin to imagine breathing without you. No. You cannot leave him. His mind was going overdrive, his heart beating too loud with the thought of losing you.

He needed to do something.

He needed to do it now,

With renewed strength, he marched out the door. His footsteps was hard and fast, looking for any trace of you that he almost ran straight to Namjoon. The leader took a look of his hyung’s state before carefully asking if he got everything under control. To which he replied that he’d only be stable and okay once he was sure that you were never going to leave him.

“Remember to do everything smartly, hyung,” RM advised him as a leader should. But as a friend, he told him where he last saw you. And as someone who also had to do underhanded methods just to get the girl, he stated, “Do what you must do, hyung. Lock her down to you, if you must.”

You almost jumped up when you heard hard, consecutive knocks on your door. It was alraedy closed to midnight, and you were weary. Your eyes were red from crying, something that you had not done in a long time. You were on the floor, surrounded by things you were packing since last week. You thought it was just your neighbor asking for something, and so you thought she would go away. You didn’t have the energy to deal with anyone today.

Yet, the knocks only became more frequent that left you no choice but to open the door- and there he was. Standing tall in front of you was the one you ran away from.

Jung Hoseok had his hands in his pockets, his stance relaxed that you couldn’t read him.

“Can we talk?”

And as an answer, you stepped back and let him passed you inside your apartment. You had barely locked the door when you found yourself against the wall, and his lips hovered above yours for a moment, a moment for you to push him away. And when you didn’t, he pressed against your lips so tenderly and yet so demanding. All thoughts about why this was not a good idea vanished. All of a sudden, all that mattered was this feeling. All that mattered was Jung Hoseok.

His tongue caressed yours, while his hand lifted your leg to him, brushing his hardened member on your core. Pressing so gently as though he was on a mission to seduce you that you were left with no choice but to entangle your fingers in his hair, brushing the strands that fell on his forehead. His other hand journeyed inside your shirt. The heat of your skin, the softness of your skin furthered drove him to madness. His palm was hot as he kneaded you through your bra, pinching your nipple with a pressure you never knew.

“If you don’t want this,” he breathed as he peppered kisses on your neck, marking you for the world to see. “Tell me now. Because if you don’t, I can’t stop myself anymore, angel..”

You felt his hand on your bare breast, your bra not standing a chance against the man in front of you. His thumb brushed over your nipple repeatedly, earning him a moan you could not stop.

“Do you want this, angel? Do you want me?” He whispered hotly, his eyes now trained on your eyes with seriousness and lust. And you could only nod.

You didn’t know how, but he managed to carry you to your bed. If he noticed your belongings in boxes, he didn’t say a thing. You would be moving, yes. But it wouldn’t be abroad where it was fucking far from him. No. You would be moving in with him.

He moved fast; your clothes were gone while he was still fully clothed. He spread your legs unceremoniously, hooking them over his shoulders, and then his sinful tongue thrust inside of you. Hoseok never gave you the chance to keep up with his ministrations, you had no choice but to moan and fall apart. And even when you did, by heavens he did not stop. His hold on your thighs were tight, fingers digging on your skin as your thighs shook with endless pleasure he was giving you.

You were begging at this point, but you didn’t know if it was for him to stop or to go on. The third time you came, he crawled to you, his lips and chin glistening with your essence. He showered you with praises about how good you were to him, how heavenly you tasted…how you were his. This time, he did not ask. He knew you were his.

You didn’t know when you passed out. Was it the second time he made you come with his cock? Was it because of the dizzying pleasure he managed to pull out of you? Was it because of his sweet, little promises about possessing you completely? Was it his promises that he’d take care of everything?

You didn’t know.

Hoseok watched you as you slept beside him, his body momentarily sated as he looked at his angel. He admired the marks on your neck, admired the bruises on your thighs. He smiled to himself as he brushed your hair away from your face. How could you think of leaving him when it was this good, he thought.

But never mind that.

You wouldn’t leave. His phone dinged from an email, and he smirked evilly as he read that the person he recommended for the job you had previously accepted was successful. The fashion company replaced you willingly with Hoseok’s promise that he would model one of their collections. You would be sad, though. But that was fine. He did this for you. He did this so the two of you would grow even closer. You shouldn’t worry, though. Hoseok thought of everything. A month from now, you would start your work with a fashion company. But this time, it as in Korea where he could see you, where he could keep you.

See, anyone was replaceable. But to him, you weren’t. You were the only one.

---

Well you did it again... I can see better now, what with all the tears to wash my eyes with.

Dear Author, you have no idea how warm you make us feel with your amazing works. Exes & breakups are my least preferred tropes; but this here is such an endearing little gem. I love how it manages to pull us in despite the lack of physical intimacy (which I usually find galore in just about anything- not that I mind 😇).

I read it this morning in a hurry before work but couldn't resist re-reading it again before bed. Will be greatly anticipating your next project. Cheers!

ex-things - m.yg.

genre: angst (after breakup!) (4.8k)

summary: over the years, everything you've owned has belonged to yoongi and everything yoongi's owned has belonged to you but when you break up, everything is your's and everything is his but none of it belongs to the two of you anymore and both of you can't stand it.

masterlist

-

“scarf,” you say as soon as yoongi appears at the door, you fail to hide your smile when he throws his head back in exasperation and throws the door open.

you push past him and enter his apartment which looked…exactly the same.

but then again, you did just break up some ten minutes ago so, of course, it would be the same.

you don’t know why you expected the universe to shift just because your heart was broken.

and as you throw back the cushions on his sofa, push the things on his coffee table, look under the sofa and table, and walk past him to check the coat rack and then the kitchen, you feel his piercing gaze following your every step.

you knew where it was.

it was in your bedroom.

or well, his bedroom now.

“can you hurry the fuck up?” he groans and in that second, you eye the black plastic cover filled with two or three soju bottles sitting on his kitchen counter.

you swallow and yell back, “can you just let me look for my scarf in peace?”

another groan.

a stomp on the floor.

“fuck, i’ll mail it to you,” yoongi makes his way into the kitchen with loud steps and you arch your eyebrow at him, then look towards the green bottles shining on his counter, he closes his eyes, takes a deep breath, and spits out, “i was going to drink today before anything ever happened, don’t feel too special.”

“really?” you muse, clinking them against each other, and in the next second, yoongi’s hand is wrapped around your wrist and he’s pulling you, gently, towards the door.

“i’ll send it when i find it,” he murmurs as he pushes your coat, your car keys, and your phone into your hands, and you don’t say anything for a while.

you clutch your belongings and stand by the door until you notice how yoongi's eyes are bloodshot, their usual sharpness dulled by exhaustion. his shoulders rounded with an invisible weight, and you feel guilty for leaving.

“a-are you okay?” you ask, it feels stupid to ask because you know, you were the same as him.

he laughs bitterly and throws you a glare, you notice how his hands tremble beside his body, and you look away to save him and yourself from the pain of asking again.

“i just broke up with my girlfriend of three years, so yeah, i’m doing fantastic,” he breathes out, you wonder if it pains him like it’s paining you to hear his words, “now, can you leave?” yoongi gestures towards the door again.

you sigh, “wait a minute,” and enter your his home again.

“what now?” he throws his hands in the air and stomps after you.

he watches you grab the scarf from under his bed, he turns his eyes away when he sees your hands shaking while holding it, “did you know where it was?” yoongi breathes out, his face and voice in disbelief.

you don’t say anything again.

and when you leave, he pours himself glass over glass to forget the trembling of your jaw and how you paced around the apartment while knowing exactly where you kept the scarf.

he laughs again, the sound is strange, rough, and just wrong without your laugh chiming with him.

he pours himself a glass again.

-

it’s been a week.

“hi,” you say as yoongi walks into his house, he jumps a little, clutching his chest as his eyes widen to look for you.

you raise a hand to wiggle your fingers at him as a ‘hello, hi, ex-boyfriend, you’re back at your home and so am i!’ and yoongi blinks.

“what the fuck are you doing here?”

“oh, i was loo-“

“wait wait, how did you even get in?” yoongi frantically marched to his front door and twisted the knob to check for any damages and you roll your eyes.

“i found your key under the potted plant. speaking of which, do you want to get robbed or something, why would you even put it there?” you throw your hands in the air as you sip tea, grimacing as the strange, bitter taste of yoongi’s favorite green tea spreads in your mouth.

“first of all, stop drinking my tea, you don’t even like it” you put the cup down with a sheepish smile and fold your hands on the table.

“and second of all, i didn’t think i had to worry about any ex-girlfriends breaking in, my bad,” yoongi complains loudly and you press your palms to your ears, shaking your head, “i’m not even here to see you, i’m here for…well, i’m here for,” you struggle to finish the sentence.

and yoongi glares at you.

“what is it?” as he moves his head to pin his glare on you, his soft, freshly straightened hair moves with him.

“straightener!” you say loudly, clapping your hands, and yoongi’s eyebrows narrow again, “you’re going to get wrinkles, yoongi.” you point at his eyebrows but he doesn’t let up, you’re sure that his eyebrows furrowed deeper.

“okay! i’ll be on my way once i get that,” you wander off into his bedroom and yoongi throws his head back in exasperation.

your straightener is easy to find because well, it’s not yours, it’s his and it’s just sitting on his vanity but yoongi doesn’t bat an eye at that.

he only watches you move around his home with his arms crossed on his chest and an unreadable satisfaction on his face.

and when you leave, you can’t help but notice that for all his annoyance, he never tells you to not come back, and he never tells you to find everything you own and leave at once.

with that knowledge, you leave his home with the biggest grin on your face.

-

“you need to get out before my booty call gets here,” you happily eat your ice cream on the kitchen counter as yoongi walks into your home as if he owned it.

did you mention that he was the one to bring you ice cream?

your favorite too, one scoop of hazelnut and one scoop of brownie.

“ha ha, very funny, you should start thinking of a career in stand-up” he responds with a roll of his eyes and you giggle even more, sliding down to catch up with his pace around your home.

“what are you here for?”

“t-shirt, you know the one you stole,” yoongi shrugs and glares again, walking right into your room and you follow with hands closed behind your back, “which one?” you muse as you remember all the (10) t-shirts you’ve stolen from him.

he looks back as he nears the closet, eyes narrowing at you, “how many do you have?”

“how many can you remember that i have?”

yoongi groaned in sheer frustration and you crawled on your bed, watching him pick apart your closet, and glaring at you whenever he found one of his t-shirts in there.

for a moment, it was amusing.

it was the funniest thing to watch yoongi get annoyed, you always enjoyed it.

but in the next moment, when he was around his fifth t-shirt, you felt this ache slowly develop in your chest and spread across your throat and then your mouth, then it was everywhere.

it was this dull throbbing that you couldn’t shake and your eyes dropped to fiddle with your fingers instead of looking at him, collecting his belongings from your home.

because, just two weeks ago, it had been your t-shirts too, hadn’t they? and it wasn’t just your home then, it was yours and his, wasn’t it? sure, you had separate apartments but it never felt like that, it felt like you had two homes and both homes belonged to both of you.

and now, you only had one.

you had wrapped your arms around his back when he was in your room two weeks ago, he was here now but you couldn’t even touch a hair on his head without feeling like you’ve crossed a line.

your head was starting to collect the ache and make a home for it so you ask, “are you almost done?”

you didn’t mean to ask him that, you actually very, very badly wanted yoongi never to leave so you could believe again, ‘i have two homes, i have two toothbrushes, two mugs, two keys, two doors, and two of everything’ but yoongi pauses, he collects the t-shirts he found and nods, “yeah, i’m done.”

when he walks out of your room, the ache finally takes over your head and you follow him with dazed eyes and stumbling feet.

at the door, yoongi stops, he turns around with concern brimming in his eyes and that is enough for your hands to shake again, “you good?”

“i just broke up with my boyfriend of three years, so yeah, i’m doing fantastic,” you deepen your voice to mimic his and yoongi shakes his head with a small laugh, “you better be okay,” he says at the end, and his voice is so soft, it feels like cotton pressed into your cheeks.

and you nod because if yoongi says you have to be okay, you’ll find a way to be okay.

but when he leaves, you are back to having just one home, with one toothbrush in the bathroom, one mug in the kitchen, one set of keys in your purse, one door, and one of everything else.

and you’re sorry to yoongi.

because you don’t know if you can be okay.

-

a couple days passed again.

you had an angry yoongi pacing in front of you as you watched.

“you’re being ridiculous,” yoongi shoves a hand through his hair, glaring at you as you sit with arms across your chest and refusing to look at him.

“i’m not,” you huff out and he rolls his eyes.

he did that a lot.

he did that a lot with you.

“i didn’t steal your plushie, are you fucking kidding me?” yoongi whines and walks away into the kitchen to pour himself a drink.

you follow him and right at the doorway, you don’t enter, you just watch his even more sunken eyes and even more rounded shoulders with conflicted eyes.

a part of you wanted to hug him.

a part of you wouldn’t mind killing him.

a part of you wanted to kiss his shoulders to lift them.

a part of you wanted to leave a red mark on his face.

but all parts of you, you couldn’t trust or believe.

these past few days, you couldn’t trust or believe anything actually.

yoongi senses your eyes on him, he knows how you look at him and how you seem to show so much with just a gaze but he holds strong.

you were broken up.

you shouldn’t be here.

hell, he’s not sure if he should be here or not either.

but he betrays himself over and over again, he lets you into his house and you let him into yours, and he feels ridiculous every time he closes your door, he’s not sure what you feel when you close his.

“i threw it away,” he shrugs his shoulders, eye muscles tensing oddly, he’s not sure if you notice or not.

“what?” your whisper is so quiet, yoongi wouldn’t have known you were speaking if he didn’t see your lips moving.

“i threw it, okay? there was no use of it being around here anymore, so i fucking threw it away,” he didn’t mean for his voice to be loud, and he didn’t mean for his words to hurt but maybe he did, maybe he wanted to hurt you.

but he loves you?

but he’s also okay with hurting you.

to an extent.

yoongi had never understood why he couldn’t love properly, why his love for others and himself had to hold a touch of pain, a touch of misery, but it was always out of his control.

it had been different with you.

for a while, that is.

but he was back to his roots now, pain and misery and love and affection held his hands and danced around him.

and he had to dance with them too.

“i threw it,” he repeated, but your plushie was tucked into his pillows, into his sleep, and into his days and nights.

it was stained with salty tears now, it was stained with the ice cream he ate after he left your home, and he didn’t want you to see it.

for a moment, you both didn’t even twitch in the wrong direction, yoongi watched the dark liquid in his cup with growing intensity and you waited for him to tell you that your plushie was safe.

“fine,” you sniffled, grabbing your coat and stomping to the door and yoongi followed, he tried not to but his feet walked ahead of his mind.

at the door, you angrily shoved your feet into your sneakers and pushed your hair out of your face, as if to prove that you weren’t crying, that you weren’t affected and anyone else would believe you.

but yoongi knows you.

and he knows your red nose and cheeks can only mean one thing.

before you close his door, you say, “you’re a horrible person, yoongi.”

he thinks he knows what you feel when you close his door now.

hatred.

-

you swore to yourself that that would be the last time you turn up at his place, but you had genuinely forgotten something there and needed it this time, so you swallowed your pride and rang his doorbell.

you don’t greet him when he opens the door and yoongi feels like he could fall to his knees when you shove a bag with his favorite ice cream, matcha, and coffee (he’s a caffeine guy, he runs on it), into his hands and yoongi knows he’s forgiven.

“i forgot my trousers here,” you mumble afterward and head straight into his closet to dig through for the work trousers that you cannot live without.

yoongi doesn’t dare to utter a word, he looks through his closet beside you and apologizes when his skin touches yours in any little way.

you can’t believe there was a time when you would touch him as if his body was yours too and he would touch you the same. but his apologies just dug the truth deeper into your skin, which was that you didn’t belong to him, and he didn’t belong to you.

so, you nod, you bear your cheeks heating up and thighs going weak, and just look through his neatly organized piles of clothes too.

he used to organize your stuff too, he used to section them, fold them, and keep them neatly by his clothes.

that’s how you find your trousers, crisp folds, and fresh-smelling, right beside his work clothes.

and your heart squeezes as you pull it out.

the folds loosen, the trousers limp in your hands, and that small change in its structure, makes you think of yoongi and everything that fell apart with him.

when you leave that day, you pause at the door and whisper, “you’re not horrible, yoongi, but maybe i am, maybe i ruined everything, but please don’t hate me.”

before he can catch you and wipe your tears and tell you that you were right last time, he was the horrible one, he was the one who texted late, who came home late, who missed birthdays, but you were already running away and he was left with a lit cigarette burning his throat.

-

“i swear, it was here,” yoongi shifts the things around your closet, head buried deep in shelves and racks of clothes and shoes, you stand at the doorway with your arms crossed against your chest, trying not to roll your eyes.

“and you have a million other headphones, so i don’t understand why you would need to find this one,” you step into the room and lazily move things around to try and find it too, yoongi scoffs from a few feet away, “it was special to me,” he says and turns his back to you again.

“why?”

“my grandfather gave it to me,” yoongi huffs, and his hands stay busy.

but.

“your grandfather died when you were five,” there was no way his grandpa gave it to him and you know you’ve caught him.

he could’ve at least tried harder with his lies.

it was strange, seeing him here, standing in your bedroom, surrounded by things that no longer belonged to both of you.

you don’t think you’ll ever get over that feeling of loss.

the moisturizer you would’ve shared with him.

the cheap wig that he would wear to make you laugh.

the razor that you would hide to annoy him.

they only belonged to you now.

though you don’t bring up his grandfather to drive him away, you only say it because it was hard for you to understand why he was here, looking for headphones that he could buy tens of pairs of.

he pauses, you wait for him to say something else, or lie about a friend who didn’t exist who gave it to him, lie about his dad giving it to him.

but yoongi doesn’t say anything.

he keeps looking.

you refused to keep anything that touched you in the last three years.

well, except for some things.

“yoongi,” you call out, pointing towards the unopened box in your closet and he turns his head that way, quickly walking over to it and flipping it upside down.

the photo album that carried your first anniversary.

the promise ring that he gave you on your second anniversary.

the matching couple t-shirt which he cringed at but wore whenever he could.

the.

the.

the.

so many the’s and so many first’s and second’s of things that you kept, though ‘kept’ was the wrong word, you treasured these things, you loved them.

and all of them fell on the floor with noise that shook your ears and chest, not because of the volume but because it was like you were pouring your heart in front of him.

but you loved them in the past, you liked to think that you did and you were in the present now, watching yoongi eye the things you gathered without his knowledge.

and all of it was only yours now.

“when did you keep this here?” he asks, and you immediately know he’s asking about the simple diamond ring that everyone thought was your engagement ring.

but it was just a promise ring.

and you removed it when, “that day you didn’t come for my birthday,” you mumbled, picking up the things and putting them back where they belonged.

buried inside a box.

shoved into a closet.

but before, you pull out his headphones from the box and hang it over your head for him to take.

when he takes it, his fingers touch the smallest part of your palm and your eyes gather tears as if rivers were breaking a dam in them.

yoongi stands without saying a word for a long time but then he walks to the door, “you’re not going to close your door?”

you’re not coming to see me off?

you get up unwillingly and walk to the door without sneaking another glance at him and drop the ring into his palm, “bye, yoongi.”

his hands tighten around the band of platinum.

both of you look at the dangly, worn-out wires of his headphones that hang from his other hand.

you had given them to him for your first anniversary.

not his dead grandpa or dad or friend.

it was you.

and both of you refused to acknowledge that fact.

and when yoongi finally leaves, he leaves behind a space in the air that waits for him to come back and take his place again, in your life, in your home, in your space.

but he doesn’t turn back.

and you close the door, letting the space remain.

-

a few days went by again.

neither of you showed up at each other’s doors anymore.

neither of you had anything left to collect.

neither of you had anything that belonged to the other.

and it was strange, the quiet, the loneliness that crept on your back and it always hit at the most unexpected of times.

when you poured your cereal in the morning, you realized you were holding the box that you had bought while grocery shopping with yoongi, it was your favorite time of the month, the one time you could really feel that he was your person.

but the box was empty by the end of your breakfast and you kept it back in the cabinet.

when you arranged your clothes, you saw your messy folding and fell back on the pile of clothes that still needed folding.

how yoongi did this every day, you had no clue.

but as you lay in pieces of cotton, linens, satins, sequins, and many more materials that hugged and pinched you, you couldn’t help but think that surely, yoongi wouldn’t leave you like this, there has to be something of his that you still own.

there has to be something.

so, you got up and with renewed desperate energy, you started searching.

you pulled upon every desk, every closet door, every nook and cranny, you searched with shaking hands and watery eyes.

“there has to be something, there has to be,” you whispered to yourself, your voice choking as things fall over from the tall walls, they fall on your feet, and your toes, and a sharp pain hits you every single time, but you push through.

because.

there has to be something.

you can’t end it like this.

you and yoongi cannot end like this.

anyone else can.

but not you, not him and you.

and the closets you look through stay ajar, the desks you’ve emptied stay tipped over, and everything you own is on the floor.

but there is none of yoongi in any of it.

so, you sink.

you sink to your knees, sobbing and flipping over items as you reach them.

because goddamit, there has to be something.

when the bell first rings, you don’t register it, you are way too intent on the clutter in front of you.

but then it rings.

and rings.

and rings, again and again.

relentless.

and you push yourself up, hoping it’s no one you know because you don’t think you can explain the tears on your face.

but when you open the door, your mouth goes dry and you know you don’t have to explain anything.

because across from you, is a red-eyed yoongi and he’s carrying a box.

“can i come in?” is all he asks, his voice barely a whisper and you’re already opening the door and pulling him in.

but once he’s in your home, in your space again, the familiar soft and sharp scent of him, the sight of him, it was too much. you couldn’t breathe. your eyes never leave him, every breath he took, every shift of his fingers, every fall of his chest, all of it was dancing in your eyes and for the love of god, you couldn’t look away.

he sets the box down and stands there with his hands opening and closing around nothing, and you want to grab them, you want to spread them across your cheeks and feel his warmth, which was sometimes cold too but you didn’t mind, you never minded with yoongi.

but instead, you curl your hands behind your back and stop yourself because it still wasn’t right.

“i don’t have anything of yours,” you start, voice already breaking, “anymore,” you finish with hands tightening so hard around each other that you could feel the bruises blooming on their surface.

“i know,” he takes a sharp inhale of breath and looks away from you and you want to beg him to look at you.

for a second, it’s just you reliving every second you weren’t with him and it’s him looking at your apartment that was void of anything personal, anything that called it a home.

“i want all of it back,” he sniffs, looking at you finally, you want to take it back, you aren’t sure how you survived three years of his eyes only on you and you squeeze your door handle, “all of what?” you whisper, and he sniffs again, “your stuff, all of it, your stupid scarf, your straightener, everything, i want all of it back, in my place, in our place, where it belongs.” he says it so quietly, so earnestly and each word has you pulling your skin tighter.

“your plushie is in this, i never threw it away but i’m taking it back, my t-shirts and headphones are in this, i’m leaving them here,” he bends over the box and starts picking things apart, and each thing he pulls out, fills you with relief.

but.

“but that isn’t right, yoongi,” you try to defend, “we aren’t together anymore,” you hate the words as they surface out of you and yoongi shakes his head.

“but is this right?” he lifts his hands from the box, his jaw trembling again and you instinctively smooth your hand over it and yoongi pushes his face into your hands.

“is it right, both of us miserable?” he whispers and the world bottoms out from underneath you, suddenly gravity is nothing and you’re both floating towards each other.

“but i hurt you,” you grip his headphones and this time, his tears fall the same as yours do, “i hurt you too.” he places a hand on your knees and that cold warmth, that bare touch leaves you open.

“but i’m done, i don’t want to hurt you anymore,” yoongi begs, he shakes his head as he says it as if he can’t believe there was a time that he had hurt you but you’re the same, you can’t believe that you hurt him once.

“before you came here, i was looking for something, anything that was yours so i could come back,” you sniffed loudly, your voice falling and lifting and yoongi listens with eyes that have always looked at you, “but i didn’t find anything, yoongi and it killed me.” your voice fully gives up as you bury your face into your hands and immediately, you feel his arms pulling you into his chest and his hands running down your hair.

“you don’t have to do that anymore, i’m back see,” he tips your face towards him and his smile is so soft, so real that it makes you smile too, “i’m not going anywhere.” he assures you with a kiss on the top of your head and your watery eyes dry out.

“me too, i don’t want this anymore, i want us, i want two of everything, i want you and i want everything,” you utter back to him, the weight of the words floating between you too.

“and you have it, you have everything again, the ring is in there too but that is for whenever you’re ready.” he kisses you again and you snuggle into his embrace, feeling like you’ve lost centuries of holding him, the thought of the ring swells your chest into a balloon that could snap, “that will take time, but thank you,” you whisper, kissing where his shoulders met his neck.

“like i said, whenever you’re ready but it will always belong to you.” yoongi whispers back and you smile in pure delight, nodding along to his words.

“we were stupid for thinking that we could stay apart,” you laugh hesitantly into his chest, the idea of the two of you trying to be separate was ridiculous to you and yoongi laughs with you, which makes you melt into his body, because it was ridiculous, you were two parts of a whole, two houses in a home, two mugs in a kitchen, two keys in your purse, two toothbrushes in one bathroom and two of everything else that you could think of.

and that was how it should’ve been, that was how it was always meant to be.

somewhere in the night, yoongi crawls up your sheets and your plushie is between the two of you and you make fun of him for acting as if he threw it away, he rolls his eyes and shushes you with a kiss.

“by the way, that straightener is yours, not mine,” you whisper and he is aghast, “i fucking knew it,” he yells and sits up, and immediately starts to complain “you know how stupid i’ve been looking with hair that looks just like holly’s!”

and you remind him, playfully this time, that what was yours was his, and what was his was yours and he falls on the bed, grumbling under his breath and complaining until the sun comes up.

and it feels right, everything that belonged to you and him back in their place, back in their homes and yoongi, back in your life, your home, and your space.

just as it should be, just as it was meant to be.

---

↳ Index [Snippet #49 - Appreciate]

"When Jungkook shows you his appreciation."

Genre: Fluff

Warnings: he is the best husband ever <3, he tells her all the reasons why she is the best <3, like i love him so much

Wordcount: 1.7k

a/n: this is based on anonie's request it may have taken me almost four months to get to it, but here it is JFADJSF tbfh it still fits thought because ogc!kookie appreciates women each day 24/7 365 😌 have fun besties, he's the cutest 🧡

You are eating lunch with your employees when Jungkook enters the restaurant. Dressed in a black compression shirt and white baggy pants. Quite frankly, he is the yummiest snack currently present in the room.

“Hey there”, he greets you and your employees with a big grin and a wave of his hand.

“Hey, Kook.”

“Hello.”

“Heyo.”

They greet him back. Marika, your cook, jumps up to get something for Jungkook but the latter stops her.

“It’s fine, keep eating. I’m not here for lunch.”

“Everything alright?” you ask him, leaning in when he kisses your cheek.

“Yeah, everything’s coolio”, he assures you, giving you an innocent shoulder rub as he talks, “wanna come to the studio after work?”

“Sure. Why?”

“Surprise.”

“Wait. Really?”

“Yeah”, he smirks playfully and steps back, “I won’t tell. See you later”, and with that, he leaves the restaurant again.

You watch him hurry back to his studio just across the street. 

Your restaurant and Jungkook’s tattoo studio are located by one of your town's main roads, but are separated by a calmer side road with parking possibilities and palm trees on each side. Jungkook eats lunch in your restaurant on most days and sometimes you visit his studio to bring him coffee. Jungkook also gets all the snacks and drinks for his customers from your restaurant and sometimes, you sweet talk your customers into checking out his studio. Truly, you and he are the perfect symbiosis. 

The rest of your shift is filled with excited anticipation. Jungkook’s surprises are always so special and sweet. You cannot wait to find out what the cute romantic has prepared in his studio. Or perhaps mister horny made the plan. No matter the outcome, you are down for it.

You close up at seven because it was a quiet day and you quite frankly, couldn’t wait any longer.

After checking the road twice, you cross it and then you are already at Jungkook’s studio. He drew the curtains and turned his sign to closed. On other days, you would use your spare keys to enter, but you never know. Maybe he is still working hard on the surprise. You wouldn’t want to ruin it. So you pull out your phone and dial his number. Calling him is honestly the only sure way to reach him. Your little chaotic introvert of a husband always forgets to check his messages. You are not excluded from this rule. 

“Are you here?” Jungkook’s picks up as expected.

“Yup, I’m here. Can I come inside?”

“No, I’m coming.”

“Okay. Bye.”

“Bye.”

The call ends, moments later the door unlocks and opens. Jungkook is still in the same clothes, but is wearing cologne. His masculine, clean scent hits your nose instantly.

“Wow, you smell amazing”, you greet him by burying your nose in the crook of his neck.

Jungkook laughs, patting your butt.

“Hello to you too.”

You inhale vividly, “sorry”, you step back, “I had to. You smell so sexy.”

“I put it on for you.”

“Mhm, you’re seducing me. That shirt is doing the rest”, you say, rubbing his pecs aggressively.

Jungkook laughs, stopping you with gentle fingers around your wrist.

“You’re already horny and I haven’t even shown you the surprise yet.”

“Right. Sorry. God Kook”, you slap his pecs softly, “that’s what happens when you tell me you’ve got a surprise for me but then let me wait for a day.”

Jungkook laughs, “I just wanted to make sure that you’re coming over today.”

“I seriously need to know. What did you do?”

“Okay so”, Jungkook begins, taking your hand to lead you to the back of the studio. He locks the front door before that. 

Jungkook has his tattoo chair and office in the back. Another set of curtains shields it from the front area of the shop. 

Today, he has your favourite record playing and seems to only use the mood lights.

“As you may know, today is international women’s day and I wanted to do something special for you because you’re my woman.”

“Today’s international women’s day?”

“Yeah.”

“Crap. I didn’t know. If I knew, I’d have given my girls a little something.”

“Just do it tomorrow”, Jungkook assures you and gestures to the sofa, “now. Sit, my lady. I have prepared something for you.”

You let him sit you down, watching him hurry through the room. 

“What did you do?”

“Something”, he says, carrying a silver tray back to you. He bows, “for you, me lady.”

He prepared your favourite cocktail and some snacks.

“Oh? Gosh, thank you”, you accept them with a giddy flutter in your chest.

“Cheers”, he says.

“Cheers”, you say, clinking glasses with him.

“To women. You girls are so badass.”

“God, you’re cute.”

“Heh. Now, let’s get started”, he says and hurries to his notebook.

“That wasn’t the surprise yet?”

“No. This was just the starter”, he says, making you laugh.

“Okay then.”

“Are you comfy?”

“Yeah.”

“Nice”, he says and turns on his projector. 

“Ten reasons why you are a badass woman?” you read the title of the presentation he projects onto the wall.

“Read the subtitle too.”

“Hell yeah! You rock!!” You laugh. “God Kookie, what’s all that?”

“My presentation. Ten reasons why you are a badass woman. Okay so reason number one”, he switches the slides.

There are pictures of you and Bam. They are all candid pictures of moments where you had no idea that Jungkook was taking pictures of you.

“Oh my god, what is all that? Bamie, our Bamie.”

“Number One. You are the best mom ever”, Jungkook says and switches slides.

The new slide is filled with cute doodles of Bam, you and Jungkook with lots of hearts scared in between. Jungkook wrote in child-like letters the words “Best Mom ever!” to make it seem as if Bam wrote them. He even drew a doodle of Bam giving you a kiss on the cheek underneath.

“Oh my god, this is so cute”, you gasp, already feeling tears well up in your eyes.

“As you can see, Bam also participated. He wrote this”, Jungkook says, pointing at the letters.

“I’m so thankful for Bamie, wow”, you play along gladly. You have the best husband ever.

“Reason number two.” He switches slides. Pictures of you at the restaurant. They are clearly made with a professional camera and show you working hard. The editing and lighting makes you look so fucking beautiful. 

“Is that why you were at the restaurant with a camera once?” you gasp.

“Yeah.” He nods his head. “Reason number two. You are the coolest restaurant owner ever. You work so hard and built all of this from nothing.” He switches slides, reading the words he wrote. “Most hardworking queen!!” He even added doodles of him giving you various thumbs-ups.

“Kookie, god you”, you get out and stand up so you could hurry to him. You hug him, “you’re so cute.”

“Okay, but seriously though. You have to sit down again. I have so many more reasons to present.”

You laugh, “I don’t know if I can keep going. This is the cutest thing ever. How long did it take you to make this?” 

“A while. It was fun. Wanna see more?”

“Of course I do. Gosh, you.” 

After you settled again, Jungkook continues with the presentation. He shows off pictures you have never seen before and they each show you in such beautiful light. Pictures of you on your bike he took during various breaks you shared on your many adventures. Pictures of you with your friends laughing and smiling and hugging. Pictures of you at the beach partaking in various activities or lounging in the sun. Pictures of you in the garden, the house and on various dates. You weren’t even aware that Jungkook took so many pictures of you and how incredibly beautiful you look through his eyes. He follows up each picture slide with a slide of doodles and a cute handwritten message. And to make matters even more emotional, the reasons are so thoughtful. They go from light-hearted reasons such as “you tell the funniest jokes”, to serious reasons such as “no matter what happens, you always stand back up”. He knows you so well, allowing you to see yourself in lights of gold and glitter.

By the time Jungkook finally reaches the last slide, the tears run down your cheeks.

You sniffle and sob as you clap.

“Baby, what’s the matter? Why are you crying?” Jungkook gasps, hurrying to you as quickly as possible to cradle your cheeks and wipe your tears.

“This, this is the sweetest thing ever. I, I feel so appreciated”, you stutter, forcing a smile, “thank you so much.”

“God, sweetie”, Jungkook goes in to litter your face with kisses, “it’s okay. I’m here.”

“I’m so happy you are. Fuck”, you chuckle, “you got me crying like a baby. This is the cutest surprise ever.”

Jungkook laughs with you, rubbing your cheeks.

“I meant what I said. I didn’t have to think a lot for my reasons because I already had them prepared. You’re seriously such a perfect person and even more perfect woman and I wanted you to see yourself the way I see you.”

You meet his eyes, squeaking out your words because he got you emotional.

“I feel so beautiful.”

“You are beautiful, my sweetie. Inside and out. Everything about you.” He smiles fondly. “I’m so happy to have you in my life. Seriously.”

“I’m happy to have you in my life”, you say and smile at him, “god, you doofus. If I knew that you’d make me cry so much, I’d have worn my waterproof makeup.”

Jungkook laughs, wiping the messy streaks under your eyes.

“You look pretty like this. Now. May I interest you in another cocktail and perhaps a relaxing massage on the tattoo table, me lady?”

“At the same time?” you joke.

He laughs, “I was thinking more of cocktails first and massage second.” 

“You are actually the cutest person ever you know.”

Jungkook grins and stands up to prepare another drink for you and him. Needless to say, you and he share the rest of this special day doing something incredibly wonderful. Truly, your husband will always make you feel so loved and in return, you love him eternally.

---

a true masterpiece 💗

colour me in: the starry night | jjk (m)

Summary: You anticipated the trip to Jungkook's hometown with a thrilled yet nervous heart – and upon your arrival, your emotions prove justified: because as the days pass, you realise that gentle joy awaits just as much as ancient pain.

➳ pairing: Jungkook x reader ➳ rating: 18+ ➳ genre: fwb/f2l, fake dating; angst, fluuuuuff, smut ➳ warnings: fluff fluff fluffluffulfufluf, flirting, daddy issues, arguments with his father, his dad is pretty much an ass and almost as bad as oc's mom, but his mom and brother are <3, ria <3, oc being a light in the dark, oc learns many new things, cursing, fighting, a lot of crying/tears, neglect, mental breakdown, panic and anxiety, anger, insecurities, too many mentions of nostalgia lmao, jealousy, mention of therapy, nara, christian yu lmAO, WEDDING TIME!!!, oc is so pretty (that jk loses it), alcohol/drunk stuff, more confrontations, making up, he loves loves loves her, childhood coping mechanisms; explicit sexual content: kissing, making out, oral (f. & m. receiving), teasing, eating out against the wall, bit of wall sex, drunk sex, manhandling omg, impatient koo, big dick!jk, dom!jk but this timeeee also sub!jk lowkey!!, tears of pleasure, masturbation, fingering, handjob for a bit, squirting, creampie, literally their orgasms are a MESS phew it's kinda hot lmao, moany/whiny/super turned on jk; no 'the ending' warning this time… just the whole chapter 🥺 ➳ word count: 45.9k lmfao pls do still read it tho ➳ a/n: this was supposed to be 30k i can just never shut up lol sorry <3 but this chapter honestly got me good. i cried sm writing it and i love them and i never want this story to end :') i hope you love it, too. thank you for supporting me at all times <3 i can't wait to hear what you think 🤍 ➳ listen to: dance me to the end of love by the civil wars (alt. version) | full collaborative playlist 🤍

SERIES MASTERPOST | TAGLIST MASTERLIST | WIPs

It’s going to be okay — Jungkook’s hand gently clasping your thigh wants to convince you of this, you know.

But you can’t deny that the presence of the family you so long awaited is affecting you — your pulse is quickening to a heavily uncomfortable pace. You know his mom; you don’t fear his brother; but his father… his eyes are inscrutable.

They scare you to no end. There he is; the power continuously shattering your boyfriend’s heart. And Jungkook must be well conscious of your distress; because a mere moment later, he of all people, the one who's supposed to seek comfort, says—

“Angel? Breathe.”

Your eyes swerve to the side and remember to blink; you only now feel that you're jabbing crescent moons into your palm, just when you realise the sharp impact. You uncurl your fingers and nod, letting him cover the faintly scarred skin with his hand.

Sighing, you ask, “Are you okay?”

“I am,” he says, nodding, as if he’s practised and polished this answer over the years, “nervous, but… it’ll be okay.”

“Yes… I know.”

“Let’s go?”

You pull the handles on your respective sides at the same time, setting foot onto the stranger soil for the very first second in your life. You can’t quite discern your gut feeling right now, but you hope it’s not the last.

Waiting next to the car, you watch Jungkook round the vehicle, squinting your eyes; the noon sun is burning right above you. He heaves the suitcases with a faint groan and you join him right away to fetch the rucksack you brought.

Holding it between your knees, you flash his family a smile and a slight wave, awkward and unsure about what to do until his mother steps down the porch and towards you. She’s elated, and you see the same sprinkle in her eyes as in her son’s when she closes in enough for an embrace.

Her arms are comforting around you; somehow, you’re startled by it. Takes you a second to reciprocate the hug, hopefully not long enough for her to question your receptiveness. But then you put your chin on her shoulder, shutting your eyes for the briefest of seconds until you open them to a side hug between Jungkook and his brother.

In the slowly cooling weather, she feels warm, a motherly love that blasts heat to your cheeks until she lets go. “Finally a woman, huh?” she breathes, her voice so sweet and kind. “A great alternative to all the testosterone.”

“I can imagine,” you respond; the thought isn’t too much of a stranger to you. “I spent most of the week amongst men. They’re barbarians.”

She laughs, just in the moment that Junghyun, Jungkook’s brother advances towards you. He offers you his hand and a radiant smile that resembles your boyfriend’s. In fact, he does look quite a bit like his younger sibling. Lopsided smirk, fluffy dark hair, handsome features.

Not a lot older. Kind as he greets you with a, “Miss Novaura herself, yes?”

The name makes you beam, inundates you with pride. You appreciate that he doesn’t revert to Charmante as most people have done throughout your life, but sees you as what you are and what you do now. The manager of Novaura, damn it.

Yes.

Has he been keeping up with stuff?

“And Miss Novaura meets the second Jeon himself!” you respond, but as he grimaces, you bite your tongue immediately. What did you say?

“When,” he starts, overly dramatic, a little like Jungkook, yet somewhat more extroverted, “was I demoted to the second Jeon?”

“Oh, I’m…”

Jungkook clicks his tongue from the side, shoving his brother aside in the most sibling-like manner you can possibly imagine. Then, he threatens, “Don’t do this, or I’ll take her away from you guys again.”

“What’s that mean?” you ask.

“It means,” Junghyun interjects, “that everyone’s been dying to meet you. Mom and I even told Jungkook not to spill too much about you, so we can see ourselves.”

Oh, the pressure. The nervousness from the past couple of weeks skyrockets. Yet, your charming self conjures, “Then I hope I don’t disappoint.”

Jeon Junghyun speaks on, babbling something reassuring that you’re certain could warm your chest if you had the capacity to listen. But you drift off quickly as the side of your eyes follows a movement in the back: Jungkook timidly, almost fearfully nearing his father.

You’re alarmed and you can’t tell why — perhaps because you don’t truly know their situation yet. You haven’t seen them interact. But at this very moment, you’re surprised when Jungkook and his dad share a light side hug, too.

The occurrence is frigid, but somehow, you expected even more frozen behaviour. Rare glances, absolute ignorance. Your mind envisioned a world that harboured true enmity, but you don’t think that’s quite what these two have been maintaining over the years.

In some sense, it’s worse.

Because rather than pure silence, there’s a deep distance that is still disguised as a surface level of closeness in a family. Faking it might just be more difficult after all.

There’s no conversation between them. Nothing much as Jungkook comes back to his mother to give her a warm, genuine hug, a rainbow to a drizzle in comparison. As if to receive what his father didn’t provide.

You follow.

You’re not entirely keen on a too affectionate interaction between his dad and you, but you still smile when he lifts his hand, shaking it kindly. From here, as the corners of his lips raise, wrinkles around his eyes that he passed onto his next generation, he looks like a terribly nice man.

He gestures into the house and you follow, listening as he asks, “Was the journey okay?”

You nod joyfully, mustering up all kindness for somebody you know hurt someone you love for so long. After all, Jungkook has done the same for you, no matter how many times your mother shattered you.

And in the end, it’s still his dad.

“Oh, yes, pretty pleasant,” you answer, clearing your throat when you hear the formal tone in your voice. “We took turns driving. And since I fell asleep, I guess I can still seize the rest of the day… if you want to?”

You turn to Jungkook as the sentence fades out and he nods with raised, stirred eyebrows. “Yeah! It’s what we’re here for.”

His father smiles, a flat hand signalling towards the living room to invite you to rest for now. Matters seem normal so far; for a moment, you allow yourself to believe he isn’t so neglectful after all. Even with all your trust in Jungkook, you try to imagine a scenario in which he perceived his father’s distaste as something wrong.

You’re incorrect.

It doesn’t require more than a couple minutes and a bit more mingling until you recognise amidst the smalltalk that he doesn’t behave the same with his younger son as he does with Junghyun. There’s lightness in the way he converses with the latter.

Jungkook only moves around you and his mother; no particular intention to really connect with his dad. Understandably so. Their gazes barely meet.

Not even when his father’s tone drops as he approaches Jungkook, uttering a seemingly obligatory, “You alright? Is the job good?”

“Mhm,” Jungkook merely responds.

The interaction is awkward and quiet, yet too noisy for the lovely room. You focus on the homely furniture and small-town-vibed interior as you wait for the brief dialogue to conclude. You’re not at a place to intervene yet.

There are pictures of the family, yet fresher if you could judge. The ones showcasing memories are probably somewhere you can’t see yet; you’re buzzing to finally skim through his childhood pictures.

You listen in. Quiet again, conversation already at an end.

Jungkook’s fingertips graze yours, giving a short head tilt, wondering what you’re thinking about. His beam is different when he looks at you now, a much more blissful alternative to the timid words he voiced just a couple seconds ago.

But you can’t really answer when his mother emerges in the room to wave you towards the kitchen, eager to converse, yet suggesting, “If you want, you can freshen up before dinner.”

But you reject the idea kindly, flashing your best smile as you respond, “I’m excited to be here, so we can just talk a little for now. I’ll go wash my face after dinner!”

She nods slowly, politely, a the-guest-is-king-sort of gesture before you add, “How have you been?”

The family joins at the dinner table one by one; nobody interferes or barges into another’s turn. Only listens. You’re used to chaos from events and parties you used to attend, everybody dying to have the last word, to outsmart another.

This family is as patient at a conversation as you’ve witnessed in your boyfriend. They’re lively, interested; maybe there’ll be more of an ecstatic family tumult when you get used to them or when more people join. At the wedding, probably.

You’ve seen something like that with your friends, too. Especially on this vacation. You did fall into disorder quite often.

Yet, it differs from your usual experience. No discomfort. No fear of odd questions.

The Jeons aren’t out to reveal your little secrets, but to understand you as a person; so you appreciate the natural flow of the dialogue when Jungkook’s mother answers, “Just tired. The wedding preparations are tedious, and it’ll probably only get worse.”

“Yeah? You’ve been helping out a lot, yes?”

“Yes, somewhat. The bride… Gayoung, she’s close with us and relies on us a lot. And on top of that,” she shakes her head at this point; rolls her eyes as she turns on the stove, stirring and heating up some meal, “she’s getting cold feet.”

“Oh man,” Jungkook adds, chuckling a little, unsurprised, “wedding is definitely on, though. She always gets nervous. Almost missed her first day at work years ago,” he turns to you, “she’s a vet, and she was terrified of hurting the pets, but… everybody trusts her with their pets’ lives now.”

“Awh,” you voice, “I can imagine how stressful that must be. I’m pretty good at managing stuff, though, so if you need any help—”

“No way, you’re not here to work. You can do something else?” His mother looks over her shoulder, pondering. “Paint?”

“Oh, I do paint sometimes, but I’m not very good at it.”

“She is,” Jungkook argues, hand lifting to rub your back, “but she’s an even better writer.”

His father chimes in, arms folded, “Oh, I think you can get a ton of inspiration here, then. There’s a flower field nearby if you’re interes— what?”

Stopping when Jungkook interrupts with an exhale, he tilts his head at his son, and you follow his gaze, watching thick eyebrows kiss. “I already took care of that, but… way to spoil a surprise.”

Ah. You see the hostility increase with each second. You wish you could diffuse the moment; tell Jungkook to ignore everything that might irk him.

Instead, you only sneak your palm to his knee, imitating his rub to calm his nerves. He must be tense. He always must be.

“I wasn’t spoiling,” his father argues, “was just an idea.”

“Oh, it’s okay,” you intervene, patting Jungkook’s thigh. He looks at you just briefly, but it suffices for some of his muscles to relax. “I don’t know much anyway. Spoiler-free zone!”

It’s the best you can do. So you keep trying; diverge the topic to other aspects of your life when Junghyun asks about your job and the efforts connected to it. About the joys and hardships of it. About how your parents are doing — burdensome topic, yet a must to master. 

Then they speak about the passage of time in the city, and how it compares to this place; how the family perceived the differences and how their current life differs from their past here.

You learn that they still feel more connected to their hometown; obvious when considering the fact that they spent most of their years here. Initially uncertain about moving, they still decided to be closer to their children and the world’s opportunities.

The city called and it kept them.

You know it kept Jungkook the most; or maybe it was you who shackled him there, too.

“Apart from the obvious differences,” you start, “I can’t comment much on it yet, but… I’ve been really interested in being here. Super nervous.”

His mother coos, scrunching her nose the way he does, assures that there’s no need to be nervous; that this wedding might end up being the kindest you have ever been to. Adds, “Speaking of. Brought a pretty dress?”

“Oh, of course,” you say; your toes curl in excitement. “I’d show you right now, but I promised to keep it more or less a secret from Jungkook.” You wiggle your eyebrows at him. “He’s seen it, but not me wearing it.”

“Ah. Is it that pretty?”

“It’s pretty amazing.”

She steps closer as the dish simmers, playing with a couple strands hanging in Jungkook’s eyes. His lips twitch upwards, and his cheeks colour in a blush when she says, “Well, knowing this guy, you’re out to give my boy half a nervous breakdown, I see.”

“I’m trying to, really.”

Your answer is light-hearted, but a mere moment late. You can’t help but wonder what she means by knowing this guy. Then again, you presume a mother usually witnesses her children’s lives; watches them fall in and out of love.

You don’t like how the realisation makes you feel, but you smile it away either way.

And it doesn’t help when Junghyun seems to catch onto her statement, too, saying, “By the way… I’ve heard that at the wedding, we—”

But the interruption is sharp. Unnatural, abrupt, his mother’s voice strange when she interjects, “Ah. Listen. Let’s serve dinner, and we can talk more when we eat. A hand?”

You don’t know what it’s about, but you attempt your best to not be nosy. You can’t even guess it, so it’s probably easiest to let it go. To only stand up to help a little, Jungkook and you handing things around until you’re seated again.

She still scolds Junghyun silently, eyes wide when she sits next to him; perhaps it’s a surprise for Jungkook or for you.

You won’t spoil it. Focus on the food.

And despite the early tension, you survive dinner, albeit occasionally cut by things Jungkook’s father remarks and by Jungkook’s responses of retaliation. Like—

“Honestly, you not liking these is a perk,” Junghyun comments when Jungkooks puts the green beans aside, snatching them immediately.

His father is quick to deduce, “Didn’t you love them?”

Jungkook’s smirk is immediate, accompanied by a shrug and a click of his tongue, and a somewhat passive aggressive, “Yes. Fifteen years ago, though.”

It’s odd, the mixture of anger and fear. He reveals his agitation in his short answers, but he never extends them to something that might provoke a bigger fight.

His father then says, “I’ve never seen you put them aside.”

To which Jungkook mutters, “Should’ve looked more then, right.”

“That’s unnecessary.”

“Okay.”

Tense. Quiet. Gulping.

But you get it over with, breathe and touch through it all until the plates are cleared, stuffed in the dishwasher, the clock ticking. Jungkook leads you to the porch that his family greeted you at earlier. You intertwine your fingers deeper, hoping for some solace between the irate words exchanged.

His shoulders stand slightly higher than usual, eyes a little unfocused. You squeeze his palm, and he laughs when you bump your shoulder against his. Tapping his foot against the porch, he says, “This is where we were having a barbeque this summer. Remember when I called you?”

As if you could forget. Those calls got you through messy, forsaken summer days. He lets go of your hand to tug you into his side, tight in his embrace, and your voice grows a pitch when you answer, “Yeah. You were drunk.”

“I was.”

“And you still called me. Burned your finger, right?”

He scoffs. “I barely remember that. I just remember seeing you on the video call and… missing you really bad.”

You glance into his face, opting him to do the same. Eyes half on his lips, half on his pupils, staring to and fro, you ask, “You don’t miss me now, though, right?”

“Hm… I don’t hope I’ll ever need to again.” As he presses into your arm, you cuddle in. He nods towards the small front yard, “They were playing Linkin Park here. And way back, when I was like seventeen, I’d smoke here sometimes.”

Your eyes blow wide; you can’t imagine his gentle fingers holding a cigarette between them, but then again, you kind of can. He laughs at your surprise before he continues, “I know. Rebellious phase. It was stupid, because Mom would smell it right away and then ground me.”

“Damn, Kook.”

He nods, lifting a shoulder as if to say my bad, and then kisses your temple. Asks, “You feeling good?”

“Yeah. I really like it here so far.”

“Good.”

“Are you?”

“Yeah. It’s okay.”

“Good,” you echo, just for him to do it, too.

“Good. I think we cou—”

Pause. 

Because the feast of interruptions continues still. A sudden, shrill call of his name reverberates across the streets, and you flinch, following the sound on the right before detecting somebody walking up to you.

You haven’t seen her yet, but she’s glowing; hair open behind her, just the top half held at the back with a butterfly claw clip. The breeze swirls her bangs, and just from the exhilaration in her voice, you can tell who it is.

Jungkook lights up equally when he squints his eyes and recognises her, loosening his grip around you as he exclaims, “Hey!”

“Helloooo!”

And then he lets you go. You watch the endearments unfold. He says, “Didn’t expect you here today.”

“Me neither,” she says, and he laughs; you join in, already curious. “I was going to binge some show, but Junghyun texted saying you’d arrived.”

She catches up with a somewhat heavy breath, widening her arms when Jungkook steps down from the porch and engulfs her in a firm, heart-warming hug. Loving, decades old.

They oscillate on the spot, and she rubs his back until they let go. She doesn’t waste a minute until her eyes drift to you; they’re so expressive, dark yet glimmering. They prove your assumption when you see her joy towards you immediately.

The moment begins a little awkwardly as the stranger approaches you with uncertainty about what to say, but then she asks, “Is it okay if I hug you, too?”

You giggle. Goodness.

“Gosh, sure!”

And you’re delighted to the bone. Her touch is warm, inviting. They all are. You’re not used to it; why does it make you sentimental? You don’t know her. You’ve never spoken to her. Why the clump in your throat?

Weird.

“Ria,” she introduces, “I’ve heard so much about you. Really, it’s a common thing to say, but I’ve been really excited like… man, why did you come so late when he was sooo whipped in the summer already and—”

Your face heats up impossibly; this thought of a passed summer that called upon a million unknown emotions and words and encounters and yearning… you might never get over it.

Jungkook gives her a playful whack on her clothed arm, eliciting a prolonged Owhhh. You lift a protective arm over her to jest back, and she gasps, infinitely pleased. It helps her open up more, because it seems that she doesn’t need more than this to suggest, “Can I take her?”

Wrinkles form on his forehead as he raises his eyebrows in confusion, and she, nearly jumping at her spot, explains, “Show her around a bit. We’re having dinner soon and then I won’t be able to move, so…”

Jungkook blinks, unsure, looking between her and you until you urge, “It’s okay. You drove most of the time, too, so try and rest a bit.”

Your reassurance helps; either way, you don’t think you would’ve gotten to much more today anyway, no matter how much you hoped to seize the evening. You’re beat from the last day and the terrible night and the tiring journey and the filling meal.

Taking a walk is all you can imagine to do right now.

Maybe he’s on the same wavelength as you, because the nods come slowly but surely. “Sure. Go. I’ll come later to bring her back.”

Ria places a sweet hand on your back, urging you forward and speaking back, “Gotta make sure I don’t kidnap her, what?”

Her house is nearby. The first of the conversation goes by similarly as it did in Jungkook’s house, but the moment she announces the arrival at her own home, your calm demeanour changes to a rather terrified one.

She’s not going to…

No.

Because she promises, “I’m not taking you inside, no worries. I wouldn’t overwhelm you like this.”

Your chest relaxes. You guess meeting one family officially, as if you’re being evaluated for marriage, might suffice. While sure her family’s as lovely as the other, you don’t want the overstimulation.

So instead of urging you inside, she takes you to the small cottage next to her house. Their property is a little bigger, the area spacier. You soon find out that the little house she’s taking you to isn’t some guest thing, but houses dozens of farm animals.

You didn’t think there was something to the cliché you heard about small towns; yet, the reality is much more endearing. How oddly cheerful the animals seem, even though you know the fantasy is just a fabrication of your mind.

You don’t know what they’re thinking or feeling.

One of the hens clucks as Ria picks it up, looking at you with big eyes as she says, “I thought you guys would come early in the night and then just sleep. I didn’t know you’d arrive so much earlier.”

“Oh yeah!” you say, hands in the back pockets of your jeans, “We left the hotel at noon.”

“That’s crazy.”

She bends, letting the hen go, and the little thing instantly rushes away. You flinch, stepping back. You’ve never done this before; you try to keep your cool, but you’re so inexperienced, mesmerised by your surroundings.

This place is so different, so much quieter, more serene. You understand the nostalgic vibe of romance movies set in towns like this. You’re suddenly thrown into The Notebook and into Footloose. Into everything that evokes warmth.

“What is?” you ask.

“Just. It’s so nice to meet you. We have so many guys here, so it’s cool to be with a girl for once.” She takes a deep breath. “And I love Kookie and I trust his judgement. So when he told me about you, I told him to get you here right away. It took you so long.”

Her tone is frisky, but you feel bad. Not quite because you let her wait, but because of why you waited yourself. Because of the breaks and pauses and the split hearts that you needed time for to sew again.

The weeks of insecurity and then the trials of life.

Something in the pit of your stomach stirs at the memories; you can’t believe you’re standing where he fell for you first, despite the distance. Where he reached for you through the rain and the clouds and the stars, and called to listen to your tears and your pleas to return.

You can’t believe it. In fact, yes, you believe it as little as her.

“I get it…” you say, “we have quite a few guys in our group, too.” You wait, watching her nod as she inspects the last of chickens running into the cottage. Then you ask, “What did he tell you about me?”

“What he told me? Mmmh. I mean, it’s difficult to say. He spoke of you highly, but I think his main focus was on not hurting either of you. Very, very worried about how things might play out.”

Yeah… yeah, it sounds like him.

You don’t answer; shift your eyes to the grassy ground. You hear her voice lift a pitch as she says, “Man, too many guys is simply too much, though, seriously. And then having to deal with Kook all the time must be so exhausting, too.”

Laughter erupts out of you, and you shake your head, “I mean, he’s a brat sometimes. But he’s the best man I know.”

“He is a good guy, yeah? I’m so glad.” She nods again, affirmative and positively confirming. “He’s always been. It sucks sometimes that he lives so far away.”

“I’m sorry,” you say, but she shrugs her shoulders, waves off your concerns. “I take it you’re not interested in living in the city?”

Her eyes narrow when she looks into the distance, met with the lowering sun as if it entails the entirety of her beloved town. It’s probably part of it, though; the one sun she’s known all her life, despite the same star rising and setting everywhere in your vast world.

“Not really,” she says, “I like it here… Even though so many left.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes. Some people I knew…”

You can imagine. Two faces flash into your mind, at least. Not that you like half of the thought; but it’s automatic, and so is your statement, “I feel like I know at least two.”

She seems surprised. Tilts her head, blinking, hands on her hips. “Really?”

“Yeah, well…” You avert your eyes, fearing an abundance of transparency. “Jungkook and Nara.”

“Oh.” Ria’s blinking fastens. She didn’t expect this; neither did you. But in some sense, it was inevitable, dropping Nara’s name here. “You met Nara, huh?”

“You say it so… weirdly.”

Her hands lift and she immediately works on objecting to your assumptions, “No, I mean. She’s nice! I liked her growing up. I just wouldn’t have mentioned her unprompted. There’s no need…” She studies your face. “He doesn’t either, you know? Talks about you mostly.”

You don’t know what to say. You gathered this much; but a very strange feeling in your chest presses against your heart, and you can’t quite decipher why. You shove it aside as best as you can, and then breathe it out, thankfully admitting, “That’s relieving.”

“There’s no need to worry. I think he and you will have a good time here and bond more than ever.”

You nod. You don’t feel like responding; not because you don’t like her or don’t want to. Your throat is tied, and you can’t really think of or form a productive thought. So you just keep nodding, smiling until a hen pops out again.

Ria, pushing away a stray strand of her dark hair, points to the little, excited animal, wondering, “Hey, have you ever held a chicken?”

“No!” Ah. Good tactic to distract you, considering how many times you mentioned this minor wish in the past weeks. “But I want to! Told Jungkook like a hundred times.”

“Okay,” she waves you closer and you dare to approach, hoping to neither hurt the hen nor yourself. You have absolutely no clue about these things. “Come here then. It’s not hard.”

It’s not. In fact, the process sounds logical, facile; but your hands are shaking, and often enough, animals seem to understand negative emotions when targeted. But Ria proves a good teacher.

Shows you to near the hen calmly, moving slowly to not startle her. She instructs you to soften your voice as much as possible, kindly noting that you’re soft-spoken enough to not worry about it. And then, once close enough, she demonstrates placing a hand around the tiny body, securing the wings to prevent flapping.

You imitate. Or try to, at least. It doesn’t work right away, your nervousness intruding; but at some point, you manage. You use your other hand to support the body, lift the hen gently. Hold it close to your body to give her a sense of security, much as Ria lectured.

Ria is patient, amazing, despite having done this probably a thousand and million times. Adjusting to your lack of knowledge, praising you, acknowledging your effort.

Her giggle is mellifluously sweet as she watches and hears you gasp; she applauds, but stops right away when she detects the third presence amongst you.

She calls, “Ah! You’re finally here.”

Your eyes follow hers, heart lighting up as you hold up the chicken carefully and nearly shout in uninhibited excitement, “Kook, look!”

His hands are in his jeans’ pockets; his walk idle. One of his eyes is squinting shut until he steps into the shadow, a tender smile playing around his lips before you realise that it looks… sad. Doesn’t reach as far. No crinkles around his eyes.

“Aren’t you the cutest, munchkin?” he responds before dropping into a crouch next to you. He seems brighter upon seeing your face, but you still keep wondering… What just happened in the house?

You don’t know. You don’t want to ask yet either.

So you only set the hen down, lowering her until she’s balanced and waddling — waddling? — away. You wrap your arms around him, providing a flicker of warmth. You don’t know what made his face fall like this, but you want to at least attempt to lift his chin again.

God. What a start to the first day. Is it odd to feel scared?

“Wanna go?” he asks, a thumb brushing the corner of your lip.

You hum, “I’m getting tired, yeah…”

“Then we can go and rest? And sleep if you want to.”

It’s early… but laying down and staring at the ceiling doesn’t sound too bad right now. Maybe he needs it, too. So you agree, pressing Ria to your heart once more and promising to return to her.

She’ll be at the wedding, too. You guess you’ll see everyone multiple times anyway; but as rude as it may sound, the thought of warming into this man’s body doesn’t allow you to bother with the world right now.

His steps are slow as you walk to the house. Eyes drooping. He might not notice; he’s been here so many times. But his presence, combined with the things you see, make your heart swell.

Maybe because you want to be there for him; maybe because you still can’t believe you’re here. But you perceive everything as if for the first time.

The cosy garden and the flower beds. A small-town house sitting on a quiet, tree-lined street. It’s more on the simple side, painted in warm hues, a light beige. Charming. You remember everything being charming.

The snug living room, the tender, partly wooden and partly modern kitchen, the clearly old and handmade dishes. A fireplace. Wooden floors. 

You haven’t seen the rooms yet, but as he leads you upstairs, you imagine him doing the same this summer as he approached his bed. He walked these same steps, a narrow and short hallway, opening the door to an inviting childhood bedroom with you present in his device.

Yearning.

But the man from the summer isn’t all you see. In fact, the place reminds of time travel; you soon recognise just how signature Jungkook everything is.

Because the moment you enter, you see him in everything. Like, in the soft quilts on his bed; he wouldn’t use them today, but you imagine a shy Jungkook and you imagine big eyes, small hands pulling the sheets over his body to cuddle into a warm night.

The window overlooks the backyard; the sunlight filters through the sheer curtains. It’s still just the middle of the evening. But you find it hard to want to leave this simple comfort. Lived-in, sweet.

Reminiscent of a youth.

Like a soft tune of a ballad. You don’t know what it is that makes you feel this way.

The cosiness? The pictures on shelves? The slightly tilted roof of the room? Or the posters reminding of a world a decade ago. It hasn’t been this long, if you think about it, but to you, all of this still tells a story.

“What’s this?” you ask, opening a random drawer and grazing rolled up paper, large, stowed away.

“Posters, I think? I haven’t seen or opened them in ages. Maybe we can—”

He pulls and rolls them out, glancing for a bare moment before he undos the action with a sudden bright red on his cheeks. You try to catch a glimpse, “What?”

He doesn’t answer, so you take the poster from him, only needing to open it halfway through to see a pretty face, followed by a swimsuit and a snatched body. Ah. Is this…

“Victoria’s Secret?”

“Shut up,” he instructs, and you hold yourself back, watching him, blinking until—

You puff out some air, nearly spitting as you laugh, teasing, “You were that type of guy, yeah?”

“Shut up,” he repeats, prying it out of your hands before he throws it into a corner. “I had this up for like two weeks. Forget it.”

“Never threw it away, though.”

“Never thought of it.”

He scratches the back of his head, a tilted smirk on his face, and you can’t help but want to keep annoying him. But he needs far more than this right now, and you’re not here to get on his nerves. So you walk up to him until determined arms wrap around his waist, kissing his chin.

“You okay?” you ask.

“Well…” He’s quieter than he’s been in the last few days and it disheartens you. Somehow fatigued, eyes halfway closed. “You know.”

You do know. Or perhaps, you don’t, but you can well imagine.

You’re not sure how he took all of this day in, day out for so many years, but you understand the weight of the situation a lot better now. Of course your mind would be rewired if you hurt this much all the time.

Whatever you’re seeing now is a fraction of what he experienced.

“It’s going to be okay,” you remind him again.

“Yeah.” He sniffles. “Hey. I have a little surprise for you tomorrow. It was spoiled a bit, but you’re right.” A peck to your nose. “You don’t know anything yet. But you’ll like it, I think.”

You don’t doubt it; you guess it helps, not being aware of much at all. Waiting for the surprise.

But then again…

When you look at him again, excitement flickering in those tired eyes of his and a hand pushing against the small of your back lightly, you think that you know a couple things at least.

“Okay. Hold on. You’re definitely going too fast!”

“This is too fast? You should’ve seen Junghyun and me racing years ago.”

You lower your head in an attempt to hide it from the wind, seeking his sweater; it’s impossible from this angle. You’re at the front, surviving between his arms as he navigates the bicycle recklessly. 

The wind slaps your face, cooler this noon than yesterday. The bike writhes on the road, and you yell out, “Man, I’ll die!”

“Baby!” he exclaims back.

His laugh is louder than the gust as you hold onto his moving thighs and then realise it’s of no help. You shift your hands to the front of the cycle, wondering when it’ll hit an unforeseen rock and tip over.

“Hey,” he tries again when you only scream back, “have you never been on a bike before?”

“Of course I have!” You resist the urge to add a curse. He’ll kill the two of you. The streets are steep, probably a hill, going downwards. “Just never two people at once.”

“I did it a lot! With friends, and mostly with Gureum.”

Gureum… his dog. You have yet to meet him.

“Gureum?” you repeat.

“Yeah! He’d sit in the basket and… and enjoy the wind. Eyes closed.” He pants between cycling. “I told you, no?”

But your thoughts are elsewhere, chin dropping to your clavicles as if not looking could save you. “Fucking hell—”

“Okay. Okay…”

The bike stops abruptly, and you yelp, shutting your eyes tight and preparing yourself to die. But death doesn’t come; a tap to your hip does. His fingers hold you, calming you, words the opposite as he orders, “Alright. Get off my bike. You can walk the rest of the distance.”

Between the sniffling and the reclaiming of control of your trembling legs, you register the surprising command, and mumble, “What?”

“You heard me, sweetheart. I’ll wait at the flower field.”

You dare a look over your shoulder. His expression is serious, an eyebrow cocking. You want to retort something snarky, tell him you’ll stay on if he just slows down, for the love of God; but instead, you look ahead, and decode the view immediately.

The grass is high and the place wide. You’re right where the field begins, the road more narrow here, only really enough for cyclists and walkers. You roll your eyes, getting off as you tell him, “You’re terrible. We’re already here.”

He laughs, dropping the bike to the side carelessly before he reaches for your messed up hair. Fixes at least the front of it, flattening it in the back. You’re glad there’s no mirror around.

Then, he proceeds to grab your hand, a finger pointing to the place and says, “Look around.”

You do. It’s widely open and empty. A decent amount of flowers; you imagine a plethora of them in the summer and the spring. Now that fall is in full effect and it’s a little colder here than on your coastal vacation, you reckon that this isn’t usually all how the field looks.

But it’s beautiful. In the far, far back, you see the forest expand. Slightest traces of autumn foliage. The leaves will fall and entirely bare the trees soon.

“This is so pretty,” you say.

“Right?”

“Was this the surprise?”

“I mean,” he cards his fingers through his hair, but as he grabs the willow wicker from the larger cycle basket, the mane is blown back into his sight just a moment later, “yeah. But the actual surprise is a bit further down the field. Come.”

He guides the way, and you put your all into deciphering what he might be hinting at, only for him to say, “Don’t look so hard. You will see it in a moment anyway.”

The laugh he elicits is sweet, a thumb touching the back of your hand. Your shoulders drop in relaxation, and you shift your attention to the grass and the flowers, trying not to stomp on any of those that are still left for this fall.

A couple feet forward, you tell him, “You know I still need to meet Gureum.”

“I know. He was with Ria since we can’t really take care of him when we’re away.”

“You could take him to the city.”

“I’d do anything to be able to. But Gureum is… a free dog. He wouldn’t enjoy life in a smaller apartment after running around for so long.”

Ah… You feel the opposite still; jumped from a large cage into a homey, sheltered cube happily. But you get it; the freedom here doesn’t compare to a crowded city, does it?

“But,” Jungkook continues, “Ria said she’d bring him over this noon, so he should be there when we get home.”

“Damn. Why am I more excited about this than necessary?”

“Oh, you should be. I am, too… he’s my old boy.”

The oxymoron grants you a smile; to a parent, a baby stays a baby. Most of the time, at least. Jungkook feels something for Gureum, and even a stranger, lost and unknowing, could piece this bit together within a heartbeat.

“He’s old?” you wonder.

“He’s twenty years old. A bit slower now but… the same amount of love in his heart.”

One shall learn how to love and be kind from Jeon Jungkook. Then again, he’d be an excellent example, but a bad teacher. Wouldn’t know what to say. Wouldn’t be able to really pick out what makes him so pure-hearted.

He just is… He just is.

“I can’t fucking wait,” you say, inspirited.

The sight changes along with his expressions as you walk down the field. From happiness to a smile to excitement and then contentment. The flowers mostly disappear, giving way to something you don’t really recognise.

Orderly rows, bright green leaves and… more plants? As you inbreathe the air, however, you swear you recognise the sweet and fresh scent. Even from here, it’s distinct and special.

And when you trudge closer, finally glancing down, you understand.

Jungkook…

He took you strawberry picking.

You see them low on the ground, clustered, ripe and red. Pretty. Enough to warrant a dozen adjectives; yet, you only whisper, “Wow.”

He waits… then waits more. Lets your eyes scan the area and the fruits, permits you to take in what he probably reckons you’ve never seen before in this form. And he’s right — you haven’t.

“You like it?” he questions. “I was unsure, like… maybe you’re underwhelmed?”

Your head turns towards him at light speed. “What? I’m not. I’ve never seen anything like this before,” you confirm, repeating your thoughts, “I am definitely not underwhelmed. This is… this is something my younger self craved.”

“Oh— Really? How so?”

You hum. Think back to late nights in the back of your bed, a room larger than what you needed, yet smaller than your imagination. Smaller than your heart.

“I read stories,” you tell him, “fairy tales. Watching tales of love in the countryside. We don’t have these places in the city, do we?”

Jungkook’s hand, on your back a second ago, travels up to the back of your neck, touching it gently. “I guess you’d have to find a farm.” He stares ahead where you do, still standing there, unmoving. Then, “Angel?”

“Yeah.”

“You said you went on a field trip to a farm, right?”

“I… can only really remember once in school. Kids were shitty.” You spoke about this once; last month, he promised you’d see Ria’s farm, too. Funny that she actually did show you. “And my parents weren’t really interested in that stuff. Which I do kinda get because many city people aren’t.”

“Mhm, I can understand.” He shuffles his feet, presumably a little sad for you, regarding the long row of strawberries stretching to his right. You’re about to crouch and try without a clue what to do when he, instead of commenting on things much more, asks, “Okay, so. Wanna pick strawberries?”

“Yes!” You rub your hands, taking a step forward, but pausing again; you could start anywhere. “Will you show me how?”

“Of course.” He hums, looking for an easy spot with an accumulation of easy-to-pick fruits; then, he lifts his jeans by a couple inches and lowers his body. “Look. You can crouch or kneel.”

You give your clothes a lookover. Just some everyday jeans; they should be able to take some dirt. In actuality, though, you might’ve joined him on the ground anyway. So you do, kneeling with your hands on your thighs, obediently listening.

“You look so cute.” He chuckles, the back of his fingers barely grazing your cheek for a moment. As he sniffles, his chin nods towards the plants, hands reaching for them. “So. You gently pull the leaves aside and just pick the strawberries. Avoid those that aren’t red, though, okay?”

His pinky touches parts of an unripe strawberry still in the ground, and he explains, “You’ll know that one’s ripe when it comes off easily. Like this,” he tugs at it, “isn’t ripe. Won’t come off so well. Mmmh. Let’s try this one.”

You follow his movements until he settles for a particularly pretty and seemingly juice berry; with ease, he plucks it off by grasping the stem and twisting a little, and says, “See? You could eat this one right now. But… basket?” You shove it towards him and he throws the berry inside. “We’ll wash it before that.”

It’s quiet and sweet here as he works on explaining the process to you. An atmosphere you haven’t ever witnessed anywhere before. It’s probably different in the spring, but you’re alone here; even if someone’s around somewhere, you can’t see them from where you sit.

And it helps you focus: on how concentrated he looks, lower lip pouting, crouching easily with his sweater sleeves rolled up. It’s unusual how his tattooed hand works on the plants. Your first imagination of such a task always involves straw hats and dungarees.

“Try it, too,” he then instructs.

He puts a gentle palm on your back as you get up from kneeling, now crouching as he is, and cast about for a couple good pieces. Whenever you think you’ve found one, you seek confirmation in his eyes, repeating, “Is this okay?”

And he always promises, “You’re doing well. Look,” he inspects one of your choices, “picking the best even.”

“You’ll have to eat mine, then.”

“Sure will. I knew you’d be so good at this.”

You’re surprised; you never saw yourself doing this, even though you yearned for a life so different than the one you lived. Until you stepped off his bicycle twenty minutes ago, you had never come up with such an idea. All the more reason to be thankful to him.

But you do wonder why he’d perceive something like this far before you did, so you ask, “Really? Why?” 

He uttered the words so casually, pupils fixated on the basket; he might not have noticed how immediately you reacted. Because he hums now, looking at you with immense eyes, matter-of-factly spelling out, “Because you’re gentle. This called for you.”

Because you’re gentle. Because you’re gentle.

The reasoning, so clear to him, repeats in your mind. It’s not as obvious to you; it’s been a while since you thought of your qualities, and in the last months, being gentle often meant the same to you as quietly enduring.

So you’re touched, silenced by the lump in your throat; such an easy sentence, but so filled with  knowledge about a person that only truly occurs with the purest of affections.

As you stare at him, you feel the fondness spreading over your countenance as much as the leaves tickling your ankle; you hold the current strawberry delicately as you conclude, “That’s why you brought me here, yeah?”

“That too.”

Oh.

“What else?”

“You can’t do this every day,” he argues, “I want to show you new places and things.”

You graze the vulnerable skin of the strawberries collecting in the basket, watching it fill enough to feed a couple people. Grabbing it, you lift your body with a smile. For a minute, your knee aches from the crouching, and your brain gathers the sensations into one to create another core memory.

Lost for words, you merely tell him, “Thank you, Kook, I…” You heave the basket to your chest, touching his hand as he rises, too. “How do you even come up with all this?”

“How I come up with it? Hmm… I guess you make it easy to do.” He laughs, and you follow, reading your mind as he voices the same thought flashing through your brain. “I know I’ll be so nostalgic about this someday. In ten years, maybe.”

Cheeks hot despite the autumn wind, you register the butterflies immediately. Right under the basket, underneath your skin, like a swarm awaking from metamorphosis. The fact that he thinks ahead like this, paints a distant future with you… wanting you for this long drives you insane.

Jungkook’s voice always lacks uncertainty when it comes to you.

Mellow when he speaks to you, gentle even when he asks, “More?”

“Mmmh… yes. Can do a few more. And it’s fun.” So you do; picking and plucking until you can barely carry the basket anymore, already wondering what to do with the bunch until you pop the idea, “Can we eat some of these?”

“Now?”

“Yeah.”

“Of course. Gotta wash them, though.”

Which isn’t as easy as it sounds. It takes you a good moment to find a water tap on the wide field; one only crosses your way when you travel back to where the bike stands, proving as dysfunctioning and broken.

And only once you’ve reached nearly the end of the field and already detect the narrow path that you cycled along from afar, your luck strikes. You wash a handful of your harvest and place them neatly at the top of the rest, right above a handkerchief Jungkook whipped out from his pocket.

The grass isn’t high everywhere; you find an ideal spot for a brief, spontaneous picnic, pleasant and comfortable; a fluffy blanket of nature. You watch ladybugs and ants crawl over blades of grass; not too much more, considering the season.

Jungkook works through the content of the basket, soon holding a piece to your mouth, “Take this,” he says, pushing it through your parted lips; waits until you’ve chewn most of it. “And?”

The initial taste is good, but the aftertaste dramatically makes your world quiver. Whatever you’ve known about food and fruits so far must have been a hoax, because you can’t fake the way your eyes widen and your voice raises in pitch, delighted as you say, “This is… so damn good.”

“Right?”

“They don’t taste like this in the city!”

“Yeah,” Jungkook chooses a smaller one from the collection, throwing it into his mouth as a whole, “these are fresh. No bullshit berries.”

“No bullshit berries indeed. So good.”

“You picked good ones!”

“But this is a curse, too!” you exclaim, urging a laugh out of him that he transforms into a kiss to your temple, observing as you munch the strawberries as though encountering them for the first time. And you pout as you say, “ Keep me from eating them all. I want to take the rest home.”

“Sure, don’t worry. We can put them somewhere and take them back on the last day.”

“Hm? Oh. No, I meant today. Home, your house…” You realise your mistake. “Sorry.”

Only, he doesn’t deem it a mistake for a moment. He didn’t think you’d feel this cosy this fast — but it was what he’d hoped and opted for, so it’s a win either way. His family as your home, him as your home.

He thinks, you finally do feel at home. It took you years of endurance, didn’t it?

“Home, yeah?” he mutters. “An apology is the last thing I’d want, angel. You’re home, alright.”

You wish you had an equally meaningful answer; whatever you might babble now, you don’t think you could do justice to the soft tone he settled on. You can’t even outdo his gaze, so round, eyes so big on his otherwise clear-cut face.

What you can do is smile. Draw closer until your shoulders touch. About to taste the strawberry-flavoured, red tinted lips before a sudden motion drowns your plans.

The bunny flits over your feet; you’re sure it jumps onto yours for a moment and then uses them to push itself off into the grass, journeying on. The yelp it elicits out of you merges with the startled sound Jungkook emits.

His elbow lightly hits the side of your breast, and you pull your legs into your chest as self-defence. But it’s gone as fast as it appeared, and barely a second later, you’re watching it hop away, little ears disappearing in the distance.

“Well,” Jungkook breathes, “at least that’s normal. I’ll tell you about my snake encounters later some day.”

A hand on your chest, you exclaim, “Oh my God. You know what?” You calm down your lowkey panting, hand falling back into your lap, “Maybe you were right. We’re home for sure.”

“Oh… yeah?”

“Yeah! Totally looked like you… thought we were back home.”

Jungkook laughs out, head throwing back, and then, amidst his giggle, he throws a “Shut up” at you. The tackle nearly pushes you to the ground before his lips attack your face all over; making out on a countryside field wasn’t on your bucket list, but you sure as hell will add it only to tick it off.

His tongue really does taste like strawberries. His lips are sweet; the hand on your waist careful yet explorative. If the grass wasn’t this cruel, tickling all over your body, you’d probably remain here for the next hour.

Let him strip you bare. Kiss you into the earth. Nobody’s here; you don’t think you’ve ever fantasised of such a moment before, but suddenly, you don’t mind loving him right here.

But maybe he’s fostering the same thoughts as you, pulling back with a little groan when the blades prick his cheeks and closed eyes. Endurance isn’t easy right now; and you have a lot planned for the rest of the day anyway.

So you pull yourself together, and nod when he finally asks, “Wanna go?”

Somehow, it takes you a little longer to get home than it did to reach the field. Perhaps because he’s cycling uphill now, or maybe because the sun is at its zenith, warming the colder day. The comfort makes you want to stay in this moment, have his voice laughing next to your ear.

On a bike swaying when he loses focus, rolling dangerously to tease you on purpose.

And when you get back to his house, you’re greeted with yet another surprise. It’s fluffy and sweet and white like a cloud, living up to its name. A tongue sticks out, tail wiggling, right at the door when Jungkook opens it.

Gureum is small, smiling as far as you’re aware of a dog’s joy. You once heard that upon seeing their owner, the same hormone floods their tiny bodies as a human’s when they fall in love. Gureum must feel much like you do when Jungkook comes home.

You understand.

Understand when Gureum jumps up to Jungkook’s legs, licking his human’s face when your boyfriend picks him up. Jungkook’s voice changes so much that you barely recognise it; you’ve never heard him talk like this. Higher, lovelier, slurred to imitate the language babies speak.

The affection is unfiltered and crystal clear.

Jungkook’s smile brightens until it reaches its maximum, bunny teeth flashing, the laugh erupting so deeply from his chest. Authentic. Eyes nearly closed as he calls Gureum’s name, plays with his face, as if communicating with a child.

Twenty years, and he still thinks of him as his baby. Sometimes, all golden stays.

“Baby,” he says after a while once Gureum has stopped licking his face, introducing, “this is my Gureum.”

You set the basket down next to the door, reaching a careful hand to Gureum’s head; but he’s cooperative. Lets you easily. “Hi Gureum,” you whisper, “nice to finally meet you. You’re so cute!”

“He’s a little sick these days, but,” Jungkook gazes down again, kissing Gureum’s ears. “He gets through it so well, doesn’t he? Yes, he does.”

The laugh is real. The affection is real. Tender and deep-rooted. He smooches him again, and then puts a cheek to his warm fur. You’ve never seen him like this. You’ve never fallen deeper.

“I missed you so much, too, buddy,” he says, “so, so much.”

You swear you see Gureum cuddling into Jungkook’s chest. Doesn’t move even when you’ve settled in the living room, resting from the journey. You’d drafted plans for the rest of today, but it doesn’t seem they’ll separate, and you don’t want them to.

You can wait. Things can wait.

You sit by Jungkook’s side as he pets him, his head soon on your shoulder, one hand in the white fur, the other holding yours. It’s how you remain for a bit.

In hindsight, albeit never having plucked strawberries before, today wasn’t some grand adventure across the world. You didn’t strike a deal at work or fight off some paparazzi hiding in an unexpecting corner. And you didn’t climb a mountain.

But you guess that’s what you craved all your life. Somehow, this is better than any crazy escapade.

The serenity that comes with a mundane moment. A love that consumes you and a love that helps you commit the most casual of acts to memory.

Maybe this is enough. An old couch lightly creaking as you move; a cloud blinking as you caress its head. Surprises to help you experience saccharine afternoons.

You remain for a bit, and then remain a little longer.

Ria came through the door not too long after you’d returned, ready for the evening plans. She’d promised to accompany the two of you to the centre of the town, giving you a tour of the most important and ancient of places.

You learned about the town’s only drapery seamstress and the best flower shop. Much as it so occurs in 70s and 80s movies, you met the son of a mechanic. He told you he’d be inheriting the company one day, and that it was okay because he never intended to leave anyway.

Ria’s eyes suspiciously widened as she spoke to him, and she lingered for a moment longer than you did after your farewell. The guy had forgotten that there was work to do by the time she finally bid him goodbye.

Jungkook’s eyes squinted at the sight, but not even he could hide his endeared smile. Pressed into Ria’s shoulder with a teasing hum.

You rewarded yourself for the day’s many steps with some soft serve in front of the city hall, talking and delivering anecdotes until the sun started setting.

As the evening concludes, you’re the last to appear at dinner. His family is already sitting here, politely waiting and sweetly welcoming once you’ve washed up and hopped into the dining room with a vibrant smile.

You’re in a good mood. Evidently so; the scent of strawberries and the taste of his mouth still linger, and you’re still coming down from the high when you chime, “I’m sorry for being late.”

“Don’t worry about it at all,” his mother assures, “we just sat down.”

“I really wanted to help, though.”

It’s true. His mother has been nothing but the ultimate host. You wanted to prove productive and useful, but then Eun had called to check in on you and delayed your plans.

“Hmm, you know what?” his mother utters, pouring you some Jjamppong. “The wedding isn’t until one, so we could get up earlier and make strawberry jam in the morning? If you’d like.”

The wedding has been in the back of your mind constantly, slowly sneaking to the forefront with an intense nervousness. You’re timid because of how it’ll turn out, how people will perceive you, if they’ll talk to you. How Jungkook will look at you.

How much love might spread; how much certain people might tone down their resentment.

Learning yet another skill such as making jam might just be the best distraction. So you nod wildly, only interrupted when Jungkook asks, “Can I join, too?”

But you change the movements of your head to a shake, jesting about quality time and whatnot until he surrenders, “Alright. Way to shut out the boyfriend and son, I see you.”

“Speaking of food,” you say, pausing, slurping a big bite of noodles; they’re spicier than you’re used to from city restaurants. Better, too. You point your chopsticks to your dinner. “May I have the recipe?”

As his father and brother indulge in their food, acting as quiet listeners, his mother answers, “I’m sure Jungkook has it. I’m offended he never cooked it for you, since they had it a lot growing up.”

“Offended indeed. You learned this?”

“Oh, this?” Jungkook’s eyebrows, hitherto sporting a crease between them — a telltale sign of a well-eating Jeon — relax. “Yeah! I was learning when I was like, what, fifteen?” He seeks approval from his mother, who soon nods. “I fully butchered it when I tried it for the first time.”

Junghyun chuckles. “Even I remember.”

“Yeah, you refused to help!” Jungkook complains, whining when Junghyun hits his brother’s elbow with his own. “And I burned my wrist and had the wound for ages. Couldn’t do much in P.E.”

Much as yesterday, it seems his father hasn’t learned; because as you feared, it’s only now when he melts and intervenes. You almost surmise he’s provoking on purpose when he queries, “When you were fifteen when? I can’t remember any wounds.”

Jungkook scoffs. “Are you telling me I’m making it up again?”

“No, I’m just saying I don’t remember.”

“That’s because you were at work and didn’t pick up my many calls. Mom was sick that week… It's why I wanted to cook and learn at all.” He nods towards his brother. “Junghyun remembers because he went to a friend and then rushed home to bring me to the hospital. None of it sounds familiar to you, does it?”

Jungkook lists and narrates the happening with a flat voice, as if recalling items still left to purchase for tomorrow’s meal. He’s stirring his soup and his father is stirring everyone else’s, uncaring as he responds, “I didn’t know.”

“It’s fine. You probably didn’t care.”

“Nonsense.”

Another, “As much as the last years,” added to the mix, you opt for his hand under the table again, but he pulls away. You’re left dumbfounded, looking at him in surprise. This has never happened before; he’s never been upset in such a way.

As if to signal, “It’s fine. It’s whatever. Let me deal with this.”

But he can’t deal with it; you see the beginning signs of a rising chest and a decreasing appetite. Nobody just plays with the content of such a rich soup for this long; least of all a foodie like him. He’s busy looking at it, propping his elbow on the table.

You stare for a little longer, and then turn back to your food.

It sounds like it’s over. And it’s quiet; maybe you could interrupt with something else, change the course of the conversation. But his father isn’t done yet.

No. You notice everybody else’s irritation when he opens his mouth to speak again. They sigh, forming a line with their lips when he emits a question that leaves even you in disbelief, “Why are you saying this?”

“Come on,” his mother tries, wanting to ease the tension, but Jungkook is faster.

“What? I mean, I don’t know?” he starts, once again an equal amount of fear and annoyance in his voice. “I barely ever hear from you, Dad.” With each word, he grows more daring, at the end of his capacities when he eventually curses, “We live in the same city, for fuck’s sake—”

“Jungkook—” Junghyun interrupts.

“What? It’s true. Even the last hundred times, Mom visited alone. Could’ve at least come over and said Hi to my girlfriend.”

“I’m here now and saying Hi, though,” you try, weakly smiling.

“And he’s here, too. How grand of him.”

Fuck.

“Stop the attitude,” his father warns, “you could’ve come over plenty of times, too.”

“Are you hearing yourself? News flash, I did. I tried to talk to you, too. If I was still fourteen, I’d still be apologising. Oh, or is that what you want? Is it what you want?”

“What are you talking ab—”

“I’m talking about how I really wanted to tell you about a shit ton of things. Like when Nara and I broke up,” amidst the already tense moment, your heart pains for a second, “or when I graduated. Or when I was having a really fucking hard time this summer and needed somebody and then when I fell in love and needed to tell somebody, and… where are you all the time anyway? Who fucking knows — I don’t!”

It worsens and worsens. Crashes and burns; every word splits the air in the room. You don’t know how to save the moment anymore; maybe you’re not supposed to. You can only lend him courage. Perhaps he’s supposed to finally say all this.

But it’s hard to listen.

Because as the waterfall of grief cascades, you hear Jungkook’s voice quiver. He’s about to break. Right here, in front of everybody, you’re about to witness the woe this man inflicted on him all his life.

And you see it; see parts of this very torture when his father reveals who he’s become over the decade. The one Jungkook described to you; empty of empathy and understanding.

Because again, he renders you in shock when he speaks again. Fucking nasty, nitpicking and focusing on only one aspect, attacking somebody’s pride.

“Get a grip over yourself! You graduated in arts — you didn’t conquer the world. And you hold a grudge when—”

“I hold a grudge? I do? You’re the fucking one who shunned a kid because of a mistake and—”

“I do not want to hear about this. Not again.”

As their voices grow, so does your heartbeat. The anxiety is unbearable; you can barely imagine the one spreading through Jungkook’s chest. His face is red, neck hot, veins about to pop. If you could, you’d slap your hands over your ears.

But you can’t listen away; can’t ignore the panic, either.

“Please, stop,” you say, moving, but Jungkook frees himself of your grip again, stands. You attempt again, “Stop it, baby.”

But he won’t listen, mind somewhere else entirely.

“You won’t blame me for shit you did years ago, you can’t—” his father insists, but…

“Oh, fuck off.”

“Watch your mo—”

“Or wha—”

His father’s face, similarly scarlet as his son’s, grows a shade darker at the shameless counter, and his large hand lifts in slow motion for you. Comes down with a thump, intending to slap the wooden table, but hitting the edge of his small kimchi bowl again.

It flies up inches into the air before suddenly rolling off the table, aligning with you and soon falling onto your lower arm with a painful impact. It topples down onto your knee before it meets the ground and shatters into a handful of pieces.

You gasp and shriek, more out of surprise than pain; but Jungkook’s reaction is immediate. He bolts towards you, protecting you from whatever danger might be left. Pulls you off your seat and away from the shards as dead silence befalls the room.

It’s filled with your shaky breaths and the way his mother and brother shove their chairs back, hands reaching for you. Jungkook keeps you out of their reach. Looks at his father for a couple seconds; then to the kimchi on the ground; then back to him.

You can’t see him properly until you move to glance at him, wanting to keep his anger low, but… you don’t think you can do much anymore.

The fire in his eyes is blue.

And his voice is strained but furious when he finalises through gritted teeth, “You are fucking insane.”

This time, the man doesn’t answer. You hear his wife utter something as if scolding him before she speaks up and offers to clean up the mess. But Jungkook shakes his head, “No need. He can do it.”

Then, turning to his father, he repeats, “You’re fucking insane. You’re a terrible parent and we all know and only you can’t admit it to yourself. I just didn’t think you’d develop into a terrible person, too.”

Still long fingers around your wrist, he moves you towards the stairs, rounding off the fight with one more, “Don’t fucking get near me or her, do you understand? Fuck.”

So many words exchanged, but it was the stupid kimchi covering your pyjamas to make him topple over the edge. You feel guilty, but you don’t. It’s the man downstairs that has so fucking much to reflect on.

God. You wanted this vacation to relax Jungkook, to soothe you, to turn the first painful half of the year into something glorious.

But…

Then again, didn’t you expect this? Weren’t you scared of this?

Didn’t you fear the exact manner in which he now leads you to his room, in which the slamming of the door rings in your ears, his hands in his hair?

He’s let you go and stranded in his room. It’s odd, the way you stand here, clothes dirty and the grief dirtier. 

You walk towards him cautiously, watching him shiver, and reach for his wrists in turn this time. It’s a featherlight touch, but you feel the tremble underneath your fingers. And you instantly notice when he starts coming undone. When his lips shake, too.

Even with his head lowered, you recognise the wet waterline, and how it takes a handful more heavy breaths until you hear the first sob. You hug him. You hug him right away. Hold him close and closer.

You make a weak attempt at pulling him to the bed, but he’s already in the process of breaking down, his body getting heavier, falling. The carpet offers solace as his knees suddenly hit the ground. His arms hold onto your hips and his face buries in your chest.

When his breathing turns irregular, so does yours; you feel like the world is splitting and the sky crashing down. 

His leg comes in touch with your messed up clothes, and when he looks up into your eyes, he’s already crying. A trail of tears courses down his cheeks as his pupils suddenly shake, looking for something, asking you, “Did he hurt you, baby?”

“Kook…”

“Let me see, you must be hurt, you— you were just wearing these thin ass slippers without socks, right? The fucking bowl shattered and…”

“I’m okay, Kookie. I’m not hurt, I promise.”

“No, but… it fell on you, it must— did it bruise your knee?” he continues hectically, inspecting you, never seeing anything. He cradles your face, still crying and sniffling, shoving his pain aside to make sure, “Please tell me if anything hurts, ‘kay? I will get something, I’ll— dunno, fucking smash his fucking face, I’ll—”

His mind is going haywire. A proper downward spiral, and you don’t know how to stop it. What the fuck— what the fuck…

“Jungkook— Jungkook, please,” you try, lowering his hand, but he won’t stop searching for signs of injury. “Baby, please.”

“Why is he like this? I just… man, I am trying, angel.” His voice falls at the last word; your heart fractures at the same time as it tries to keep his intact. “I am trying so hard in life for him to like me, and you… you’re here, so I thought he’d behave and instead—”

“I know. It’s okay.”

It’s not, but you can’t say it. Can’t say how much the meaning behind your stained clothes hurts. How much it connects to what the weeping man in your arms feels; how he looked forward to this, planning ahead, a surprise for everyday without anticipating such ruin.

And he’s as clueless as you. More broken than you ever anticipated. Resembling the burst dish one floor beneath you, holding you like an anchor, crying into your chest.

He keeps repeating the same things as you repeat yours, soon mumbling his words of trying and trying and constantly trying. Of wanting to be loved. Attempting to understand if it’s too much to ask for. Is it?

Why can’t he love me?

And you whisper back, He loves you. He does.

It’s easy, falling into such misery. There were moments not too far in the past where you were on the receiving end of such pain, and he was your life vest. You don’t know if you’re keeping him above the surface as well as he did, because you keep susurrating the hopeful mantra to him.

But he keeps believing—

“No… no, he never fucking did. Wh—who treats someone like this?”

“Some people forget, you know… how to show affection. Sometimes, they deem their pride more important. It says nothing about you.” You lift his chin, heartbroken upon detecting his reddened eyes. “Everyone else in this stupid world loves you.”

“Your mother doesn’t either…”

“My mother? The woman who hates literally everyone?” You smile, trying to make him imitate it, but he doesn’t. You brush his cheeks and then his hair. “I do. I love you. I knew who you were even when I was unbiased.”

“Didn’t you… hate me, too?”

Once again, you try a faint smile. Not for him to join in, but because you’re reminded of a foolish friendship; it had already long bloomed into more when you’d finally named it one.

“Not for a second,” you say.

Break in discussion. He’s still shedding tears, snivelling. Stays frozen like this, all of him unable to move except for his lips. They mutter, “I don’t ever want you to get hurt. He can do whatever the fuck he wants with me, but…”

“Yeah. I’m okay. We’re okay.”

“I love you,” he maffles weakly, “I love you. I love you.”

“I know. I love you, too.”

You feel as though offering solace to a child. As if he’s shrunk into what he used to be, in the very room he used to sulk. The trauma still belongs to a kid, and when hurt, he’ll turn him into one, too.

You hate it. Hate that his sorrow still belongs to such a young heart. That he never processed it.

Before you came here, you spoke about it. And once you’re back in the city, you’ll have to figure things out further; the time constraints just before you drove away didn’t allow you to take much into consideration.

You can only cry now, can’t you? Detest the dampness in your own eyes. Stay right here until some sign occurs, lifting you up from the ground.

And it does fifteen minutes later.

The knock is gentle, just two of them, and you tell Jungkook to wait, that you’d be back in a minute. As you stand, his back is bent, his head lowered. As if he’s sleepwalking or slowly fainting.

You shut your eyes for a second; then open them again.

Behind the door, his mother awaits. In her soft hands, she’s balancing a tray holding some food. She lifts it towards you, tells you, “The two of you barely ate.”

Upon a closer look, you realise that her eyes are swollen, too. The view nearly forces you to tear up again, your face seethingly hot. You want to hug her. Want to tell her you’re sorry. Instead, you only touch her shoulder, and mutter a grateful thank you.

“It’s okay.”

She sounds so pained. You wonder if she said something to her husband. Reprimanded him, cried for his son, grieved a childhood and life that could’ve been.

But she doesn’t say any of it, and neither do you mention it. You only agree, “It will be. Are we still making jam tomorrow?”

“Yes. Tell Jungkook he can come if he wants to.”

“Yeah… I was thinking that, too.” You stare down to your food, never noticing how she peeks past your shoulder. Sees her son unmoving on the floor; she knows she can’t do more than you are right now. So she only nods when you repeat, “Thank you so much.”

You wish her a good night, bringing the food to where your boyfriend sits. Put it down in front of him.

“Sit upright, baby?” you ask him, crushed by the sight of swollen cheeks and red-rimmed eyes. His lips are parted, his breathing still stagnant; he only stares at his food until you push the tray closer to him and say, an attempt at a smile, “Let’s eat a bit. Mother-in-law brought it for us.”

No smile back, but a sniffle. The crying subsides just a bit as a shaking hand grabs the spoon, slurping the soup before he can even think of the noodles. He eats a little, slowly, surely. You help when he needs it, feed him a bite, encourage him to one more.

Every other minute, he cries again. You wipe the tears away, try to make him eat more.

His father fucked him up. You knew about the issues and demons Jungkook combatted. Of course his mentality suffered; of course there are parts of him that might never heal… But you never quite understood the full effect. 

His father fucked him up good; got him so bad. Parts of both of them are so ultimately ruptured, aren’t they?

Whenever he winds down, you eat in silence, right there on the ground on top of the old carpet. When he can’t swallow anymore, still some left in his bowl — Jungkook barely ever doesn’t finish his food — you move up to the bed with him.

You kiss his hair repeatedly, as if it could heal him just a little, to even the tiniest percentage. You don’t know how much of an effective bandage you are to him, but you know you’re doing at least something.

Because he whispers another I love you before the gut-wrenching sounds of his sobs have finally faded out, still echoing in the room. His tiny, shrunk voice says, “I’m looking forward to tomorrow with you.”

And somehow, it pains you even more. The hopeful tone; the wish for a day to not hurt.

“Me too, baby,” you say, “it’s nobody but us, okay?”

“Yeah… yeah.”

And that’s it. It’s all you can do for now; understanding the heavy heart the night cursed you with.

But as you drift away, you keep pleading. Pleading and pleading and pleading for a better tomorrow without getting a promise back.

To your chagrin but least of your surprise, Jungkook doesn’t join your jam-making session the next morning.

When you stirred awake for a little bit, eyes still sleep-drunk and body falling, your phone flashed seven thirty in the morning. Not ready to start the day yet and doubting anybody else had gotten out of bed, you cuddled into his body, and he, while deep in his slumber, must still have noticed.

Pulled you in more, smacking his lips and sighing a little, a warm hand at the back of your head. Secured in his embrace, you fell asleep again.

Only to awake two hours later without him by your side. You’re already washed up and somewhat sobered up from sleep, and you’ve looked on the first and ground floor. You can’t find him.

His mother informed you that she and her husband would be leaving to join the wedding earlier, to help out with the preparations and make sure the plans all sit. You offered your help, but she claimed they’d be okay, and that you can still use the morning after the jam lesson to rest.

Perhaps Jungkook has embarked on a journey then, using this time to do something in the early morning. 

Once you’ve walked into the kitchen, greeting his mother with a smile and a good morning, you ask, “Nervous for the wedding?”

“Mmmh, kind of,” she answers, locking the phone she held, putting it aside to sip her tea, “but it should be good since we took care of most of the stuff pretty well. It’ll be wonderful. Except the damn Wedding March — we couldn’t settle on any song but this.”

“I can’t wait. I bet it’ll be beautiful.” You take a seat in front of her, hearing the sounds of the TV and quiet conversations. Among the voices, you recognise two, but his is neither of them. You’re not interested in joining. So you look at her, scratching your temple as you inquire instead, “Where’s Kook gone?”

Her forefinger points downwards, another blow to the tea and another swig. “Basement. I brought him some coffee, but he seemed busy and quiet, so I left him there. But,” her voice grows louder, enthusiastic, “you can go! Maybe he’ll be okay with that?”

Hmm…

“What did he go down for?” you ask.

“I think he was looking for something.” Now, she lowers her tone again, lower arms on the table. “He also just… did that sometimes when he was younger, or after a fight.”

After a fight.

Like the breakdown last night. You understand.

You should probably walk down and check — but then again, this has seemingly been a coping mechanism ever since he was younger. So perhaps, you need to let him be for a little; give him a chance to entangle his thoughts and regain some peace.

You repeat your decision to her and she nods in understanding, throwing a glance to a huge jar on the kitchen counter. You’re ready to deliver an answer before she even asks, “Want to help out then?”

“Sure!”

The process is a patient one. Reminds you of when Jungkook told you how to pick the strawberries yesterday; gently, sweetly, with a tender touch and an even more delicate voice.

Jungkook’s mother takes the fruits out of the jar with care, explains to you to mash them and cook the jam with absolute soothing composure. The minutes pass so serenely that you imagine preparing meals with her on a cold winter evening, pleasing your soul to ensure not only a good night’s sleep but lasting quiet of the soul, too.

You add the sugar and lemon juice to your mix, stirring and boiling the delicatesse before you put it in sterilised jars. She shows you how to sterilise them at all; you didn’t think or know that such a step was necessary at all.

The making of it doesn’t take too long; forty-five minutes tops. As you scanned the internet just before entering the kitchen almost an hour ago, it said it takes barely half an hour. But she demonstrated it all to you slowly, unrushed.

You’re thankful.

“Have you ever made jam before?” she asks as you admire your creation.

You shake your head. “No… I don’t think I’ve tried such a thing at all. It’s fun making things on your own. I mean, I do like to cook sometimes, but I’m nowhere on Jungkook’s level, I don’t think.”

She chuckles, nodding as if to confirm. Then clarifies, “Yes, he’s enjoyed being involved in the kitchen ever since he was a teen. Especially before he left town and realised he’d have to cook on his own.”

You giggle with her, like with a friend or a trusted figure. It’s so consoling, talking to her. Fun, smiles intact, still present when she asks, “How are the two of you doing? I mean, you did move in together quite fast, so I’m just wondering.”

Yes; she doesn’t need to spell it out. You get it — you’ve heard about this.

So-called relationship experts claim that taking decisions in the honeymoon phase isn’t too healthy, warping your sense of reality and perception of the other person. You don’t disagree, but you guess in this case…

“Honestly, it’s been good,” you respond. “We have a couple heated evenings where we argue about stuff, but… it’s been healing. And he offered to move in when I really needed it.”

“Yes, Jungkook told me.” Oh. “You weren’t at a very good place before. Please don’t mind.” You shake your head in reassurance, urging her to go on. It’s his mother; it’s fine to tell her if any of you is struggling. “I’m glad you’re there for each other because he wasn’t at a good place either.”

You nearly don’t dare to ask; in a way, she might know her son better than you know your boyfriend. Maybe; maybe not. You fear a disheartening answer when you ask, “Do you think he is now?”

But she, careful as ever, tells you honestly, “It’ll probably take time to get over things, but— it’ll be okay. Things seem a little better, though, if you want my neutral POV.”

“Ah… okay. That helps.” You play with the white-dotted red band around the jar. Your mind circles around a million questions that only she might be able to answer; yet, cautiously, all you query is, “Do you ever… have you ever spoken to him? Or his dad? About all the things…”

You reckon that if he’s talked about the two of you before, he probably mentioned spilling his secrets to you, too. At least from your perspective, it’s obvious that he entrusts her with his heart.

And once again, she affirms, “I have. Often. Even before the two of you came. It’s why I told you to take your time getting here.”

Ah… Makes sense now. So that’s why you had to roam the hotel until noon a couple days before. You sigh.

She continues, “It just doesn’t end well most of the time, so… And I’m not a good talker. I don’t know what to say anymore after so many years. Both want me on their side, though Jungkook never persists on it.”

She’s so wrong. Both she and him.

Jungkook has told you for months that he’s bad with words; yet, he comes in with every word ever written by any bard, singing poetry to you and bandaging your heart when needed.

You remember…

I’m not good with words, baby. And I don’t know how to ever properly verbalise something like this.

You sigh again. Tell her, “I understand. I also wouldn’t expect you to go against either of them.”

“Sure. But… It's difficult sometimes. Seeing how broken some of our bonds are.”

You’ve used and formed this word so many times before. Broken. For him, for you, for the world. Hearing somebody else share these sentiments and confirm your fears hurts.

And you’re out of words, wishing for a higher power to grant you a curing skill. If you could lift somebody’s burden with a single touch, just the way you’re reaching out for her hand now, you’d be busy circling the globe at all times.

“I’m so sorry,” is all, however, you can offer.

You hate how helpless she is. You urge to say something more, to hug her and promise that the world always regains its colours at some point. But you remain like this, watching the jam in the jars; hearing her say—

“You know. Jungkook has my number. I don’t know how much you and your mother still talk, but… you can talk to me, too, if you ever need to. I mean, I’m a mother.” She laughs at this part, raising a shoulder to her chin in pride, “And you’re part of him, so you can be part of us, too.”

Your eyes, locked onto the jar until now, flit up to her, and you blink to keep them dry, admitting without another thought, “I might actually cry.”

“Oh. Awh,” she voices, lifting her hand from underneath yours to cover it again. “Don’t. I didn’t mean to be all kitsch. I meant it.”

Gathering your prior thoughts into words, you puff out a breath, sporting a reprimanding look as you say, “You’re so wrong. You and your son, you always know what to say.”

Teeth flash again as she grins; she looks so innocent and pure. “Well, where do you think he got it from?”

Shit…

“Thank you…” you mutter, body already twitching, yearning to bolt forwards until you finally dare to ask, “Okay. May I… Can I hug you?”

“My goodness, love. You don’t need to ask! C’mere.”

You instantly tear up when she pulls you in. Last time you met, she left a fleeting touch. You barely knew her then; in some way, you don’t know her much now, either. But this… this is impactful.

The way she presses you into her; her chin on your shoulder. The slight pat and then the following rub up and down your shoulder blade. So warm; so salving.

One or two more pats, with a little more impact this time, she gently moves you back by your arms again, sucking in a breath as she suggests, “Alright. Wedding time, yes? We should start getting ready.”

“Yes. But…” You hesitate, wonder how much you can interfere. But then you diminish your mental concerns, and simply utter, “If you don’t mind. May I suggest something?”

You walk down the steps to the basement.

The light is on; other than what mainstream movies might suggest, they’ve set up the interior of the basement prettily. The few furniture — a table and a couch chair, as well as a couple common chairs — is a light beige, the wallpapers light, flowery.

He’s in the middle of the room, on the ground despite the many options to sit, sifting through pictures and objects lying around him. When he detects you, he flinches a bit, eyes big, moving suspiciously as if to hide something.

But you guess he’s just startled; and once he catches himself, he calls your name, wishing a sweet, “Morning, baby. Sorry for leaving the bed.”

“Oh, hey. It’s your house, you can do whatever you like. Besides, your mom and I had the time of our lives.”

He smiles brightly. You love, love, the wrinkles around his eyes. “Made some groundbreaking jam, yes?”

“You’ll see when you taste it.” You walk closer, recognising photo albums and frames. Yet, you ask, “What are you doing?”

“Uhmmm, just looking through old stuff.”

The pictures are flipped, upside down from where you stand, so you round his body, legs folded on the floor. You come to a kneel, and just when you’re close enough, you see the pure sugar spilled in front of him.

It’s in the form of fat baby cheeks. An open, surprised mouth. Then, in form of a photograph of a toddler crying. The same tremendous eyes and the same curve of his upper lip. A tilted smirk on one of them, just the one you know.

They’re adorable. You dissolve at the sight; at seeing him in a red vest, holding a half chewn corndog, tiny fingers forming a peace sign, and an unsure expression as if he’s seeing the world for the first time.

He does this often. Zone off like this.

Not rarely do you tease that he’s trudging through his first life, but he often refutes your theory with an immediate expression of shock. Chuckles back that it never feels like he’s loving you for the first time.

“Why are you looking at these, Kook?” you ask, hands on his shoulder before you settle your chin on one of them, cheek to cheek.

“Just so. I knew there was a picture of my cousin somewhere, too. Look.” He shoves aside some of the photographs on top, fishing out a very old one. “This is her. Gayoung.”

A lovely girl next to him, clearly older. They’re both holding car toys; he’s busy indulging in it, laughing, not noticing the flashing of the camera. But she’s staring right into it, caught off guard, eyebrows high and mouth open.

“I can’t believe she’s getting married today,” Jungkook says. “She’s like a daughter to my parents, but… I didn’t get to talk that much with her anymore when she grew into an adult. Was more with Ria. And then I moved, too. But… it’s still crazy. I still remember her as a young but older sister.”

“Of course. Time’s pace of passing is pretty strange. Very fast.”

“Yeah…”

He throws it back into the pile, shutting two of the handful of photo albums. Humming, he flips a couple pages of a third album; your eyes follow as he combs through them. You almost don’t notice when he pauses, and when you do, you understand why.

It’s another old picture, Jungkook tiny, mouth wide open to say something as he points towards the camera slash photographer. And he’s in the arms of somebody who’s undeniably his father. The man looks more like Junghyun than Jungkook.

But they seem happy here. His big hands are firm on Jungkook’s body, holding him lovingly and smiling at him with even further tenderness.

Jungkook remains on it for only a split second, but you get it.

You replay his mother’s words in your mind, and suddenly, you remember; a revelation clears up like a sunny day after a fog, and God… you remember.

And still, you act like you don’t. Like you haven’t understood that he’s here to reminisce about a life when things were still okay; when he still felt loved. Reliving moments when shit hurt less. Of course he’s here; it makes sense, so directly after a fight.

He seeks comfort in moments he barely remembers to escape the pain he recently suffered.

You’re out of damn words. This shouldn’t be happening to anybody.

You hug him from behind, arms around his chest. Attempting to ease his possibly disturbed soul, you ask, “Hey. Do you know that you’re the sweetest being alive? These pictures cause cavities. Good that you kept them from me.”

“Oh, yeah?” He turns his head slightly, lips grazing your nose, warm breath falling on it. “Coming from my munchkin herself.”

“I mean it! You’re so cute. And look at these cheeks,” your finger gestures towards a chubby baby, “they’re still so soft, by the way.”

You press your face against his, squishing his scarred cheek, and he states under a laugh, “You’re too much.”

“Too much of a fool for you, yes.”

He clicks his tongue, though playfully. You hear in his voice and see in his beam that he’s delighted, flattered, loving and loved. You ask, “Are you feeling okay now?”

To your relief, he nods. “I’m feeling better, I guess. Looking forward to the wedding. And your dress!”

“Oh, I am, too. I was going to show it to your mom just before, but… I want you to be the first to see it.”

“And then you say I’m not the luckiest man alive.”

“I just said Ashton Kutcher is. Mila Kunis is pretty cool.”

“Shut up.”

You pause, watch him tidy up; after a minute, you tell him, “You should’ve joined when we made the jam. Could’ve been fun, too.”

“Yeah… I mean I thought about it, but. Then I was like, maybe it’d be good for her to get to know you, like, unfiltered. She’s always careful not to be weird around me.”

“Ah. That’s kinda sweet, though.”

“Isn’t it?”

You nod against his cheek; then, drum lightly against his chest, a peck to his ear, getting to your feet a second later as you ask, “So… are you coming up? It’s a little after eleven. We should probably get ready soon.”

“Yeah, I’ll be up in some. You should go first, though. I’ll need a bit less time.”

You’re already taking steps towards the staircase leading up, but you can’t refrain from throwing one last tease, “You sure? Not sure with your skincare routine. Have you even eaten?”

“Yes, I did. Don’t be a brat.”

You lift your lips to a last provoking, tight-lipped smile before you ascend to his room. The dress is still almost flawless between your clothes. You heavily worried about damage in the few days you travelled, but aside from a few spots that need to be ironed out, it’s as gorgeous as ever.

Flattening out the creases with a borrowed iron, you soon rummage in your suitcase for the curling iron and the rest of your make up. You look at the mess scattered on Jungkook’s table, wondering where to start.

Make up, probably.

Okay. you have one, two chances max to try what you want to achieve. The goal is to remain casual, natural and humble; considering your dress, you cannot overdo it. You don’t want to look excessively over the top. Want to keep your essence under the make up.

So you keep it lowkey, pretty much content with the results before you slip into the dress.

And when you look into the mirror, you nearly squeal. You don’t struggle with your appearance. But while you’ve largely been satisfied with how you look, you did occasionally find things to possibly improve.

Normal. Doesn’t everyone deem certain spots flaws, regardless of whether they actually are?

But today… today you’re sparkling. You’re happy; in love with what you accomplished.

If you could, you’d immediately rush down to him again, show you the results. But it seems you don’t need to — because half a minute later, you make out his voice outside. He’s talking to his brother, laughing about something; seems the rest of the family is leaving. The door shuts just before you hear him moving up the stairs with quick steps.

And… when he finally opens the ajar door to his own room, his body locks at the spot, as if somebody screwed his feet into the wooden floor.

The reaction is easily imagined; most often seen on TV. You didn’t know how real it was, but then again, clichés always have an origin in real life, don’t they?

You’re surprised, a little shy by how he looks at you. And how he looks in general — black trousers hugging his snatched waist and well-formed hips. The white dress shirt is still in progress, collars up, suit jacket not yet on.

And he’s olding something in his hand that you can’t recognise.

He looks breathtaking and mesmerising, despite missing half of the preparation still. Fuck… fuck, fuck, fuck.

Does he feel the same about you? Probably.

Because he curses, “What the fuck.”

Like a statement, not a question. You touch the silky soft material of your dress, widening your eyes as your quiet voice asks, “What?”

“What are you even?”

You burst out into a brief, fleeting laugh at the question, repeating, “What I am?”

“Like, a fairy or something. Shit, it’s as if I’m getting married.”

Another near-squeak falls out of you. But you can’t blame him this time; you chose this attire carefully.

The sheer chiffon fabric, light and airy, sparkling; it called your name the moment you saw it. Floor length, lavender, spilling to the floor like a waterfall; a spicy slit on the side that Jungkook’s eyes remained on for just a tiny heartbeat longer, you know.

And off-the-shoulder sleeves; most of the back bare.

Sheepishly, you ask, “So you like it?”

“Like, I—” he starts, yet stops. He blows a raspberry. “You’re so pretty. You’re the prettiest. Oh my God,” he exclaims, dramatically touching his forehead, “I need to keep other’s eyes off you. Look at you!”

You laugh out loud, a hand on his wrist to keep your balance, no other productive response in your bright pink entangled mind than, “Babe—”

“No, seriously. Okay, I concur. It was right for me to wait to see you in the dress. Getting a heart attack as we speak.”

Your cheeks still glow brightly when you wiggle a finger at him, disappointed that there is no reality show camera pointing at you to hear you say, “If your boyfriend doesn’t react like this, girl, you don’t want him.”

You instinctively move to the buttons of his sleeve, helping out, resisting the urge to give in and fix his collar, too. You want to see the end result so badly, but he’s still missing the tie and the jacket. 

So you settle on merely touching the buttons over his chest, nodding as if approving before you say, “You already look so good, too. You know, maybe it’s you who should hide behind me today. What if some middle school girl crushing on you jumps you?”

He chuckles. “They can try.”

“They? Well, shit.”

“I’m kidding.” He lowers his chin, bringing your knuckles to his rosy lips, kissing one or two of them. “Hide me, then.”

“Mhm… Do you need help getting ready? With the tie or something?”

“Oh, it’s okay. You can lean back for a bit, tell me a story or something? I shouldn’t take too long.”

It’s a ritual of sorts. Sometimes, when you wait for the other on a date or dinner night, the faster one acts as the night’s entertainer. Sings songs or tells stories or plays DJ or serves the latest, hottest work tea.

You tell him, “Okay. But before I do,” your hand wanders down to his; it’s stubbornly closed around an object, dangling on his side. You uncurl his fingers. “What’s that you got there?”

“Oh, I…” He comes to life, as if he forgot that he was holding it at all. He lifts it between your faces, straightening his palm, and presents you something incredibly sparkly and nostalgic. “It’s part of the reason I went down at all. With my mom’s permission since she wore it at her prom…”

Damn it. Both of them deceived you.

“You were looking for it?” He nods; your heartbeat accelerates as you urge, “And…”

“And I got it for you.”

Words, you notice, are only your specialty when you’re jotting them down and narrating a story from within your mind. When it comes to answering to the grand gestures he always makes you fall in love with, you’re such a zero.

Odd, considering how he, in contrast, has claimed over and over again that he’s not as eloquent as he’d like to be. But you’ve long figured out that if he was to preach the truths he holds in his heart to an audience, the stage would drown in a flood of tears within minutes.

You reach for the shiny, pearly, flowery accessory. It’s rose-gold, a little vintage, clearly older, and so strikingly beautiful. It looks like…

“A comb… for me,” you say. Not the one to untangle your hair. The decorative type; fancy and gorgeous. He nods again, lets you take it between your fingers. “Why?”

“Just,” a shrug of his shoulder, “I wanted to give you a little something to remind you of this place and the love you got here. Besides, it’d look so pretty on you.”

A reminder that you’re loved. You wonder — who thinks of these things? Does anyone else in this universe heat up their girl’s chest like your boyfriend does?

They can tell you what they want; you’re the luckiest being alive. And in return, you want to love him as much as nobody has ever loved before.

You whisper, “Thank you, Kook… Your mom is okay with this?” Another enthusiastic nod of confirmation. “Thank you so much. I— I wish you could see yourself the same way.” You squeeze it in your hand to feel it properly, then open it again. “This is so pretty.”

“It’ll suit you.”

“Yes?” Softly, you hand it back to him, turning to the mirror, with him right behind you. “Do you want to put it in?”

“Ah… I can try.”

“Right there?” You point to the back of your head; to the braid in your loose half updo. “Near the hair pins I used. The comb might hide them well, too.”

And he does his best. Regards your hairdo focused, eyebrows knitting in concentration, so gentle with it. No getting stuck, no intentional tugging.

“Wait,” he then says, tapping his trouser’s pocket, and then fishes out his phone for a picture. He shows it to you; the accessory sits there perfectly, not crooked or ruining a single wisp of hair. “How’s that?”

“You did it so well. Thank you, Koo.” You face him again, smile bright and endless. “Your turn?”

“Yes.” He rubs his hands, looking around. “Let’s get this over with. Give me feedback, okay? And tell me a story?”

You take a seat at the edge of his bed prettily, coming up with a short tale about personified instruments and what they’d symbolise. The guitar for the heart and the love in it, the drums for thunder and the excited pulse of the soul.

“The flute for the breeze and dreams?” Jungkook adds.

And you urge in a thrilled tone, “And the violin for the rain and longing. They’d learn from each other, right?” You sigh. “I’ll think about the piano, too. Can’t figure it out yet… it could be a lot.”

Jungkook nods, distracted and interrupting the story when he asks for brief comments on his progress. Barely any feedback, though; praises largely.

You watch as he slips into the rest of his clothing and gels his hair back — it’s grown quite a bit since the press conference in September. You get to your feet, amped up when he finally claps and rubs his hands in anticipation a bit later, announcing that he’s ready to leave.

And you’re still euphoric when you jump into your car, letting him drive through the streets he knows much better. His fingers wander to the passenger seat every now and then; minutes after the last scolding, you keep reminding him to keep his hands on the wheel.

I want to kiss you so bad, but your damn make up won’t let me today, huh?

A tease here, a flirt there.

You feel like you could do anything. The sky's the limit. And it soon proves that the statement has never rang truer, even if in a vastly different context now.

Because once you reach the wedding — your metaphorical sky —, Ria is already standing at the parking lot, waving the moment she spots the two of you stepping out of the car. From afar, you already see the wedding’s venue; a lake in the back, a huge tent and a field at the front.

The parking lot right next to it, but still a couple minutes of a trek away.

Ria’s parents indulge Jungkook in a conversation about something you barely register right away, and she gestures towards herself, hugging and greeting you with an odd half-smile.

“You look so pretty,” she says, and you beam benignly, returning the compliment.

She’s rocking a dark blue dress, sleeveless, her hair in a loose bun. Wavy strands frame her face. But somehow, she looks demotivated. Worried to the slightest, though still mostly cheerful. So you ask, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah! I just wanted to tell you something. But don’t freak out, okay?”

Well, shit. Doesn’t start as you imagined, does it? You glimpse over to Jungkook. He’s laughing from the heart, button nose crunched; why is she not telling him, too?

Your chest feels tighter; the usual human response to a menacing statement such as hers. You upright yourself, take a deep breath, ground yourself as you encourage, “Yes? I won’t. What’s up?”

“Well… we’re in this town and like, people know each other. And since we’re all in a very close circle here, I just wanted to say that,” her face changes; she kind of grimaces, as if apologetic for something, “Nara came, too.”

Ah.

Ah…

The sky's the limit, and you reached it, and now you’re kind of crashing.

Well. You never thought about this; but it makes perfect sense, doesn’t it? Of course she’d be here. She was part of this town and Jungkook’s life for so many years, so naturally, she’d be familiar with his relatives, too.

Besides, even if she hadn’t been with him… Didn’t Jungkook and Ria already establish with you just yesterday, when you were inhaling your ice cream, that this small town strives on familiarity?

Meetings at the town hall, the shop owners’ affection for most of their year-long customers. The Stars Hollow vibe you already recognised.

Ahhh…

So that’s what Junghyun might have been trying to tell you on the first day, too. You remember his mother interrupting.

How annoying. You did not want to feel annoyed. Maybe it would’ve been better if Ria hadn’t told you; if you’d bumped into Nara randomly and suffered the temporary heart attack. Or perhaps, you wouldn’t have seen her at all…

Come on. Unrealistic.

Fuck, you feel childish. There shouldn’t be any burning in your chest or an uncomfortable warmth in your cheek. You shouldn’t be feeling the urge to run over to Jungkook, to actually hide him behind you.

To rush to his ear, whisper your worries, make him promise that he only loves you and won’t ride into the sunset with her.

Delusional, paranoid concerns that you wouldn’t entertain on any normal, sane day; then again, the news Ria delivered wasn’t going to leave you unbothered anyway. This whole thing around exes really sucks.

“I… I shouldn’t spiral, though, right?” you answer, your voice a little weaker. Ria immediately nods, though still not relaxing the wrinkle between her eyebrows. “I mean, of course she’d be here. This is her place, she was born here and…”

Ria takes your hands in hers, assures, “I promise you it’s nothing too bad, okay? Nara and Jungkook have been here at the same time before and literally nothing happened.”

What? When?

“When?” you echo.

“Uh, like last summer? He only came down for a couple days, though. College exams and stuff.”

Ah… you wouldn’t even know. Back then, you’d only encountered him once, at the blurry frat party that you spent in locked rooms and on tiled roofs. When you sang together and spilled your hearts to each other.

For the very first time.

Whatever he did before or after that… how would you know?

Only, you feel even sicker at the thought that after that party, and after he allegedly met Nara here again without anything literally happening, he still linked with her back in the city. Still shared his nights and sheets with her.

Does this count as nothing happening? What if the time here evoked something? What if it happens again?

Fuck, what if it happens again?

“I’m going to panic,” you tell Ria.

“What? No,” she exclaims, though instantly lowering her voice, rubbing your arm soothingly, “it’s okay, I promise. He didn’t even think of it. Either that or he doesn’t care ‘cause he didn’t mention her once.”

“But now I might keep thinking about it.”

“Seriously. Fuck, I feel bad for saying it—”

“No… no, it’s okay. You should’ve.”

“Okay, look. It’s honestly fine. She’s nice, she won’t do anything shady; not if she knows about y’all.” Another caressing touch to your shoulder. “I just wanted to warn you. Please don’t feel startled. I’m here, okay? I’ll smash his nose if anything happens.”

She looks to the side. The other conversation has seemingly ended, too, and you swallow as Ria’s parents wave her over. She says, “Okay. Gotta go, but I’ll meet you guys inside and reserve seats, okay? There’s just limited assigned seating.”

She pats your coat-clad arm, and then walks away. 

Well. Okay.

You guess you’ll have to get over this one way or another. You focus on your clothing. Focus on how you look, how Jungkook looks. The weather, the tent many many feet away. Your boyfriend’s gaze on you as he walks back to you, offering his hand.

He pauses when he sees you, asking, “Is everything okay?”

“Hm?” you hum. “Yes. Just nervous, I think.”

“Me too.” He flashes the sweetest grin known to mankind, genuinely excited, childlike joy. Tilts his head at you. “You seriously look so fucking pretty. Like really, really.”

You smile.

Okay…

It should be alright. Jeon Jungkook is so in love with you; damn it, he even peels your oranges for you when you don’t feel like doing it. You need to trust the process; need to hold onto your excitement.

Okay.

You glance at the event warming up in the far. Halfway through, people have gathered, standing on the grass or the man-made path. There’s still a bit of time; so naturally, they’re still busying themselves with conversations.

Breathe in. Breathe out.

You’ve met her before. This isn’t different.

You look down to where his and your fingers intertwine; put particular attention to the way he holds you. Firmly, as if protecting and loving and keeping you close at the same time.

His smile lifts your spirits a little, the wind enclosing your mind and easing it. You nod only slightly, telling yourself it’ll all be good — and then, let him tug you towards the wedding.

The wedding is as bustling as you expected. It’s bright, colourful, flowers draped over the place in abundance. Even before you enter it, the huge tent leaves you breathless, gasping.

They put so much effort into this; it’s clear as day. Jungkook’s mother isn’t around, but the moment you lay your eyes on her again, you’ll praise her for what she helped mount. Somehow, the beauty nearly makes you forget that you’re among pure strangers.

But that at least one familiar face is roaming here somewhere.

You take a deep breath.

All these people know each other. They probably grew up together, know the ins and outs of the town, have gathered at weddings and funerals and school events. You don’t know how well you’ll be able to integrate, but you do hope for their support.

It’s not too much to ask, you reckon.

At least not when Jungkook pulls at your hand and the two of you into certain directions, coming to a stand multiple times when he sees a person or two calling him to them. Some are old school friends; some adults he knew when he was a child.

Candy store owners. Somebody who sold him his first scooter. Or a pal he used to share his banana milk with.

The sentiments are clearly there and they bask in them, but none of them ever forgets about you. Jungkook introduces you, tugs you into his side, enskies you with praise. And they respond with kindness and interest; tell you he’s mentioned you before.

You remember. Jungkook told you how his friends spoke about you or saw you on TV, eager to meet you — they react according to the excitement he foretold, and you reciprocate it with ease. Very sweet.

Yet, it seems that even in a small town, or especially in a small town, enmity runs just as deep as affection. Some people remember friendships, others still resent rotten memories.

You soon meet the first one of the latter kind.

He’s standing near the entrance of the spacious tent; you glance inside, unsuspecting, not a single familiar face in sight. You don’t notice him until Jungkook does, coming to a stand, walk interrupted as the guy exclaims, “Jeon Jungkook! My goodness, Jungkook—”

You meet thick eyebrows, long-ish dark hair, full lips. He’s handsome, his smile bright. 

And his voice is mellow and sweet, and at certain tones, it reminds you of Jimin’s; then again, some syllables come out much deeper. You don’t know who he is; of the pictures Jungkook has shown you, he wasn’t in any of them.

“Hey,” Jungkook greets, somewhat distant. You don’t think standing here is his first choice, but your boyfriend is as polite as can be. Even waves towards the guy, and tells you, “This is Christian. Barom, but he lives in Australia now, so.”

“Hi,” you reach out a hand, “nice to meet you.”

The accent is heavy and somehow cursive when he responds, “Likewise.”

Jungkook is definitely not delighted about him. Follows the touch of your hands, then your gaze up to Christian’s face. You notice it before Jungkook can probably even think of it: the odd look the stranger throws at you.

Up and down. Smile telling. Uncomfortable.

And when Jungkook suddenly does catch it, he intervenes, “You came all the way from Sydney?”

“Yep. And you came over from the city?”

“Yeah,” Jungkook answers. You barely register it, but you’re certain he’s been pushing you behind him inch by inch; but you remain at your spot. You can deal with this. “We were on vacation before, but I was gonna come anyway.”

“Nice. And wait, sorry, you were…?”

You recall never introducing yourself; but you’re positive he’s figured out your relationship to Jungkook just by the steadfast grip around your palm. But Jungkook still officially voices your name and informs him, “My girlfriend.”

Christian must be seeing or hearing something you aren’t — strange since it was him who asked — but he laughs, teasing, “You’re being defensive.”

“I’m not. I literally just told you she’s my girlfriend.”

“Lucky. You look pretty together.”

“Yeah. Thanks.”

You have not a single clue what’s going on. Jungkook is never really rude, so there must be something about this Barom or Christian — he’s never mentioned him before.

Then again, you guess growing up in a tight space comes with all sorts of relationships. Christian is probably the sort that never earns a mention until actually met with the person themselves.

It’s funny though — in some way, the rejection seems one-sided. As if Jungkook is still holding something against him and Christian remains uncaring; while it might not be a universal truth, you’ve experienced that those utterly calm are often the ones at fault.

And Jungkook isn’t an angry human being. He’s kind. Patient. Needs a reason to be mad.

Christian doesn’t take the hint when he smiles, a heavily tattooed hand patting Jungkook on his shoulder as he suggests, “See you later then? Let’s take a picture or get a drink afterwards.”

Jungkook only stalls for the tiniest seconds, but you know him — he’s probably already made up his mind. You look between the men, baffled by the nearly visible bolts shooting from one pair of eyes to the other.

“Sure,” Jungkook eventually says, your hand still in his, and works on moving to the coat check and then to the chairs without adding anything else.

You don’t inquire yet what this was about as you walk, catching glimpses of the priest, of the stranger guests and of the people lingering at the front of the tent. You’re busy gauging Jungkook’s eyebrows, observing as they relax more the further he gets away from the guy.

And neither do you need to pop the question when you’ve settled somewhere in the middle-ish, you on his right side, Ria on the other. Next to her, her parents that you briefly met when you brought her home yesterday.

Previously turned on her seat, she now uprights her body, hooking her arm with Jungkook’s as she whispers to him, yet clearly enough for you to hear, “Was that Yu Barom?”

Jungkook nods. “Christian Yu now. Yup.”

“Right.”

They nod, understanding each other wordlessly, but you’re still floating in between a couple theories and the actual sentiments. So you lean in; you’ve become one of the gossipers at a wedding, you guess.

“Okay,” you start; the two of them stare at you with the same big puppy eyes. “You don’t seem to like him.”

“Oh, we don’t,” Jungkook bluntly admits.

“Why?”

Jungkook smacks his lips. Eyes drift to the roof of the tent, the polyester fabric swaying in the gust. Then, they shift to his cousin, presumably seeking approval, because she shrugs her shoulders, gesturing with her hand and says, “Oh, go ahead.”

So he explains, “His little cousin was a constant problem for Ria. Same age… harassed her and all. Constant flirting and phone calls and didn’t take the hint, just an uncomfortable dude in general.” He pauses, shaking his head. “I had to threaten him for him to get lost. And Christian didn’t like that.”

Okay, now you definitely feel like somebody indulging in tittle-tattle. Some more and you’ll be one of the aunties. Your mouth gradually opens as he speaks, and you emphasise, “No way.”

“It’s true— the guy was on a break from college for just a month and decided to argue with a fifteen-year-old.”

“What? Did you get into a fight with him?”

“Nah.” He pauses when a group of random three girls in green dresses walks along the aisle, even though they’re barely facing you, sending a perfumed breeze towards you. Then, “Not a physical one. But it was a bit messy. Didn’t like that night.”

“Me neither,” Ria confirms.

Of course he didn’t like it.

He’s largely non-confrontational. You’ve learned this much in the time you’ve known him, and have given the fact utmost sense ever since he revealed his innermost fears. Jungkook keeps quiet; he dreads repetitions of a direful past.

Yet, initiating and risking a conflict for his baby cousin increases the respect you harbour for him.

People are cruel; but Jeon Jungkook is good-hearted to his core, no matter how flawed.

You touch the back of his hand, caressing it when he says, “Stay with me tonight, okay? And if you can’t, then do come to me when he nears you.”

“Okay.”

His eyes meet yours, concerned but also suspiciously fiery when he states, “Because like, I really didn’t like how he was looking at you.”

Ah…

“Hm?”

“You didn’t notice?” he asks, his voice higher, thick eyebrows closing into each other again. You lift a thumb, clearing the crease and his stress. “I almost plucked his eyes out.”

Of course you noticed. You just didn’t think it irritated Jungkook to this point.

“Oh— Kook—”

“No seriously,” he stresses, turning his hand to get ahold of two of your fingers, “guy was sweet half his life and then tried stuff with so many girls. I wouldn’t be surprised if he approached you again, so please stay away from him, okay?”

“Yes, baby. But I wouldn’t let him do shit anyway. Don’t worry.” You nudge his shoulder. “And don’t be jealous. Have you seen yourself?”

He rolls his eyes at the accusation, but there’s a sliver of a smile on his face and relief in his gaze. You guess hearing you say it does wonders to him; sometimes, you truly praise the connection between you, based on a clear foundation of trust and communication.

Well… at least now.

“I’m not jealous,” he insists, “it was just gross how he looked at you. Fuck this. Not with my girl.”

You can’t help but break into a chuckle, way too loud for your row. You slap a hand over your mouth, careful not to ruin the lipstick, and nearly give into the urge to release his pout. But it’s too sweet — it can linger for a second.

Removing your hand, you near him until your mouth grazes his, assuring, “I love you,” before you peck his lips curtly. He still looks a little grumpy, though. Your man. “It’s okay, baby.”

The grip around your hand intensifies. It doesn’t seem it will vanish for the rest of the night. You sure hope it doesn’t.

And you’re immensely grateful for the luck you’re enjoying. Not only because of this place’s beauty and the palm holding onto yours — but you haven’t seen Nara either. In fact, you become hyper aware of how much you’ve been thinking of her.

Like; what is she wearing? How is she doing? Is she thinking about Jungkook; expecting him here; feeling a sort of way? Is she imagining his smile and how she saw it in this very town so many times, dedicated to her?

And did Christian ever flirt with her, too? Did it irritate Jungkook?

You’ve been thinking it all dead.

Unnecessarily so if Jungkook hasn’t even mentioned her, never sought her out. Instead, he’s busy protecting his girl from past bullies.

In all honesty, you’ll probably cross ways with her still. The guest list isn’t endless; the place vast but not infinite.

But for now, you forget about her, trashing all thoughts and possibilities. Shake your head. Breathe it out. Relieve your chest.

You diverge into conversations about anything and everything, reminiscing about yesterday and the places you saw. Listen into stories Ria and Jungkook tell: about injuries, about pleasant nights and about the fights they had.

Ria was like the sister Jungkook never had; Junghyun was a good older brother, but when seeking another opinion, she was on speed dial. Sometimes, growing up in a certain environment makes all the difference — hearing a girl’s thoughts at all times might have made Jungkook the way he is.

Thoughtful, respectful. You have encountered sexism a million times — not to mention just minutes ago, checked out so shamelessly — but you don’t think Jungkook has such a notion even in any crevice of his heart.

You’re fond and happy when they laugh together; her crinkles match his. Their laugh contagious.

It still echoes and fades, slowly and lovingly when the tent quietens. All heads turn, but you don’t see much from here. Maybe a couple moving bodies at the entrance. Someone coughs, interrupting the silence and lowering their head, and the moment allows you a peek at the sensation.

The bride is waiting, holding a bouquet. Her father is touching her veil to fix it despite having nothing to fix; but she doesn’t notice.

Gayoung is glancing ahead, breathing in. Everyone’s eyes remain on her, but your head turns to follow her eyes. The groom is already standing there in a standard groomesque position, hands folded, upright like a post.

He looks insanely nervous. His shiny boot taps the ground, lips parting and unparting. And he’s blinking; then forming a circle with his mouth, releasing the pent-up tension.

She hasn’t moved yet. The ceremony is yet to begin.

But even before all that, as people indulge in the sight and wait for their eternity to start, Jungkook has already mimicked your turn, fingers still intertwined. When he speaks, you flinch; you didn’t notice his voice this close.

He’s looking at the groom, too, before he settles his gaze on you. Stares with affection in his gems that bursts your heart, splinters your ribs and implodes your chest. You know he’ll say something to fade out the entire crowd before he actually says it.

“Can I tell you something mainstream?”

You hum, “Hm?”

He regards your digits, plays with them. “If you ever choose to marry me…” Your heart stops. “I’ll look just as tense as him.”

“Would you… want to marry me one day?”

“It’s just a thing people do, right?” he questions. “Whether it’s like this or in any other way— I’ll spend my life with you anyhow.”

I’ll spend my life with you.

Not a question. Not a need.

But a confession. A goal. A plan. 

You don’t get to answer when the first tunes of a guitar play. It’s a song you recognise; paints a smile onto your face. The melody is soft, slow, so gentle. They didn’t choose an orchestral track or the usual Wedding March after all.

It’s a song.

Jungkook’s eyes blow wide, and he immediately seeks yours. Mutters into your ear, “Do I know this?”

“You probably do.”

“Wait—” He listens in. Pupils roll up as he ponders. Then, “Didn’t someone sing this in the lobby this week?”

Almost. It’s why it delights you so. You already had half an idea back then, and you managed to somehow incorporate it into this wedding without really being part of these people.

“Yoongi played it on the guitar,” you clarify, “I suggested it to your mom this morning. I guess she liked it enough to forward the request so spontaneously.”

“You did? Then she must’ve…”

You can’t decipher what he’s thinking. His stare is fixated on the passing bride, her slow steps, the beam she wears as she nears whom she’s decided to be the rest of her life.

You can’t peep into his brain, but you notice when he tilts his head. See the tiny gap between his lips and the way he catches the groom blink away tears the moment you do, because Jungkook smiles at just the same moment as you do.

Gayoung lowers her head when she comes to a stand in front of his still-fiancé, and then delivers the most magnificent, most mesmerising grin. She’s happy, you know. You don’t think you’ve seen this intensity of joy a lot of times in your life.

You recognised it when Jungkook woke up still in your bed after the blue night. When he opened up to you, vowed to stay, brought you to his home. When you announced to the world that you’d be his to remain, that you’d do what you enjoy.

When you got home that evening, and he kissed you right against the door, deemed you crazy, deemed you his.

You haven’t seen this very happiness much in your life, but you’ve seen it in him. And you’ve felt it in your chest. Growing, blossoming, never wilting.

The couple at the front speaks its vows like a song. The words are melodic, poetic, and you’re almost entirely sure that they’re not rehearsed. It’s all real. The love in them and the memories in them, accompanied by the liquid bliss swimming in his and her waterline.

No, you haven’t experienced this too many times before. You’ve felt it. He’s felt it.

And you don’t need to know much more than this; don’t need to know what he’s thinking to understand what he means when he says—

“This… this is it.”

THE CHAPTER ISN'T OVER YET!! PLS READ 👇🏼

1k block limit as always!! you can read the second half of the chapter in this reblog!! the reblog begins with a new scene <3

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Little Do You Know [M]

➬ Title | Little Do You Know

➬ Pairings | Yoongi x reader

➬ Summary | With love, comes challenge. Especially when you are in love with the one man who is at the top of the world while keeping you on the other end.

➬ Genre | Artist/Music Producer!Yoongi, Established relationship!au, Angst, Fluff, Smut

↳ Ratings | +18 / M for Mature

↳ Warning | possessive Yoongi, a few events of jealousy, multiple smut scenes, implied public foreplay, clothed foreplay, dry humping, semi-public sex, exhibitionism, rough sex, breast play, biting, clit play, hair pulling, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, self-masturbation (female), clothed sex, car sex.

↳ Word count | 22k words (I’m sorry for this T^T)

↳ Cross post | AO3 | Inkitt 

↳ Music companion | Little Do You Know - Alex & Sierra | Youth - Daughter

➬ Author’s Note | Written as a commission for @minyoongail​. | Thank you for giving me a chance to write for Yoongi again. Forgive me for the long wait. I hope you’ll enjoy this story.

THEN…

From the very first night you met Min Yoongi, you were instantly drawn to him.

To describe the moment perfectly, you could easily say that it had happened exactly the way wise people would describe this kind of attraction; that you were drawn to him like a moth to a flame.

It was an instant pull, the kind of attraction that you had never once felt for another person before. Not to the boys you have dated through college, not even for the hot specimen of a male sitting right next to your cubicle at the office you were attending through your internship.

To this day, you could only faintly recall the events which had led you into getting dragged along to the uncharted territory where Min Yoongi existed. It was Friday night, right on the weekly scheduled night out that you would spend with your friends, when the hours were getting late and the dive bar that you had frequently gone to each week felt too cramped and dull with all the men in suits who came in for a seemingly boring company party while acting like they owned the place.

“It would be fun,” you remembered one of them said as she suggested to try hopping into a different club instead of ending the night early.

Continuar lendo

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isn't it sad when you go to look at the answer a writer gave you after a compliment and u see that the entire post/fic has been deleted?

I do not know what to think abt it lmaooo

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nothing a little camaraderie can't fix ❊ yoon jeonghan

❋ plot: you've always hated jeonghan, and jeonghan has always hated you. however, matters of the heart take time, and maybe that slytherin you've sworn to detest forever isn't really as bad as you'd originally thought.

❋ pairing: jeonghan x f!reader

❋ words: 14.1k

❋ genre: fluff, angst, humor (i tried) // slytherin!jeonghan, ravenclaw!reader, hogwarts au, enemies to lovers au, i guess it's also rivals to lovers in a way, junwoo as best buddies <33, this got kinda long it really was not supposed to be this long oops, also i highkey love joshua in this one, i almost put a love triangle in this and then i chose to let it be

❋ warnings: swearing & name calling, they're mean, quidditch-related violence

❋ notes: first svt fic! hello caratblr aaaa pls reblog/leave feedback it would mean the world to me 💫 (i wrote this over a few days while procrastinating on hw so its unedited and badly written sorry in advance xx)

back to masterlist

Junhui is trying very hard not to accidentally butcher your Potions partner assignment and get you both Dreadfuls for the concoction, but at the rate he’s going, you might as well give up on your Acceptable aspirations.

“You had one job,” you tell your best friend, setting your knife down for a break. Whatever’s in your cauldron bubbles consistently, a garish blue color that it definitely shouldn’t be if Yook Sungjae’s cauldron next to you is any indication. “All I ask for today is an A, Jun. Just an A. Please.”

“I’m not doing anything!” the boy yells back at you, pointing at the mixture frantically. “We followed all the instructions, you watched me put everything in!”

“I literally haven’t touched anything until now! I only just started cutting these up!”

“Maybe you’re doing it wrong!”

Your potion makes a strange popping noise in the silence that follows, and you sigh, rubbing your temple. “Merlin, we are a mess.”

There’s nothing more you can really do, since Professor Slughorn is busy handling a near-disaster on the other side of the classroom, so you return to slicing the dandelion roots, at just the right angle and width as you were instructed. You’re just about done with the last one, ready to sweep them all into the cauldron and hope for the best, when a hand reaches out and plucks one off the table.

“Hey!”

“Too thick,” a familiar voice drawls. You lift your eyes to meet a pair you’ve grown to harbor a deep hatred for over the years. “Are you sure you were paying attention last class, L/N? Or did the Hat make a mistake putting you in Ravenclaw?”

“Very rude of you,” Jun remarks calmly from his spot. You’ve known him long enough to understand that behind the tranquil demeanor, he’s definitely as irritated as you are. “Kindly take your flat ass back to your seat and apply your ludicrous, crack-brained academic principles to yourself.”

Yoon Jeonghan, for all of his smug glory of several seconds prior, looks taken aback for a moment.

“What he said,” you add, just to reaffirm, enjoying the moment of confusion on his face. It’s gone soon enough though, replaced by that easy, sure-of-himself smile that’s always playing on his lips.

“My ass is most definitely not flat.”

You throw your hands up in the air. “Jun insulted you in several different ways, and that’s what you choose to focus on?”

“Can’t have my reputation tarnished, can I?” Jeonghan drops the root back into your pile. “In any case, good luck getting anything above a Troll on this potion. So much for wisdom and intelligence and all that.”

“You are a total dickhead,” Jun says solemnly.

“I’ll have you know I’m in the top of our year in several subjects,” you fume back at Jeonghan, “Transfiguration included, which I know you suck at because you accidentally turned Xu Minghao into a frog once instead of a turtle. Amphibians and reptiles are very different.”

“That was two years ago,” he responds coolly, shaking his head to get his hair out of his face. “I don’t repeat mistakes. And I certainly outdo myself every single time.”

“And the sky is bright yellow with polka dots, and pigs can fly.”

“Well, they can, if we assist a little bit —”

“Yoon Jeonghan, get out of here before I send you flying through the door,” you spit. “My wand is in my pocket, and Slughorn’s back is turned. I’m not afraid to use it.”

“You know I’d never turn down an opportunity to duel,” he says (you do know, especially after he and Jun nearly faced off in the Great Hall at breakfast during your second year), his eyes flickering around the classroom, “but I don’t think you would enjoy it too much if I made a fool out of you in front of our class, would you?”

“I don’t think you could,” you say delicately, reaching over him to push the sliced roots into the cauldron.

“Is that a challenge, L/N?”

You sprinkle a bit of pearl dust into the concoction, along with a scoop of powdered horseradish and several rose petals, right when Jun catches on and reaches over with the bottle of neem oil to splash a bit in. As the newly added ingredients boil and dissolve, the consistency and color of your potion seem to return to normal, a pale translucent shade rather than the dark blue it was earlier.

A smug smile dances on your face as you look up triumphantly. “I think I’d win, don’t you?”

“Well,” Jeonghan says, folding his arms. “I’ll say I’m impressed. Didn’t think you had it in you, considering how the both of you struggle in this class each day.”

“We’re self-sufficient and can fix our own problems when we have them. As any good Ravenclaw would,” you emphasize the last phrase in response to the insult he threw your way earlier.

“‘Any good Ravenclaw’ might not find themselves in this position in the first place.”

“Shouldn’t you go to your partner and actually be useful for once instead of getting on our nerves?”

Jeonghan glances back at his table. His partner for the project, a pretty Hufflepuff third-year you’ve seen around the castle, is busy corking a vial of their potion, ready to turn it in at the end of class.

“Already been done. You’re just behind.”

Jun casually flips him off, eyes still on the open textbook propped against several containers. You wonder whether those two would have already killed each other by now if you weren’t around to stop things from escalating in either direction.

“Piss off, Yoon.”

“Mouthing off, now, are we?”

Slughorn rounds the corner before you can let a string of curses leave your mouth, pleasantly surprised by whatever you and Jun have brewed up.

“Positively wonderful, my dear! Look at this beautiful color, the consistency — oh! I expected nothing less from you both. Take fifteen points, each! Simply brilliant, you are…”

Jeonghan raises an eyebrow when your moment of glory is over and you reach for a vial to turn in a small sample. “Ravenclaw racking up points in the classroom as usual, eh?”

“Piss off,” Jun echoes your last words, cleaning up the supplies strewn across the table with a wave of his wand. “If you’re so salty about the point gap, try closing it on the field and then we’ll talk.”

You almost laugh, almost — Jun has definitely struck a nerve by the way Jeonghan’s jaw tenses, nostrils flaring. The fact that Slytherin has lost every game so far, save for the very first one against Hufflepuff, is a sore spot for the whole house, and the obvious disparity in points is displayed in the Great Hall, the hourglass of emeralds far lower than the others.

When Jun walks away to the front of the class, you’re left there facing Jeonghan.

“So,” you smirk, packing up your things. “Good luck on the pitch, then. Though with our lineup, I’m not sure what else you can do to save the game.”

“Awfully confident, are you?”

“Of course,” you answer proudly. “With players like Jun and Hyunjin, we’ll sweep Slytherin in no time.” 

He chuckles. “Your unwavering faith in everyone around you is pretty entertaining, I have to admit.”

That provokes you, causing anger to flare deep in your chest. You grip your bag so tight your knuckles hurt, slinging it over your shoulder.

“Well, I won’t entertain you any longer, Yoon. I’m out of here. Have fun preparing for your team to eat shit tomorrow.”

Jeonghan smiles slyly, turning to leave as well. “We’ll see,” he says cryptically. “May the best team win, L/N. But don’t forget that I always have a trick or two up my sleeve.”

Actually, if there is only one thing you remotely like that has to do with Yoon Jeonghan, it’s his best friend Joshua.

You’re not even sure how those two get along, but Joshua’s company is well and good enough for you — the Hufflepuff prefect is the opposite of his friend, kind and funny and everything wonderful. He’s also the perfect person for you to vent about your frustrations, most of which end up being about Jeonghan anyways. 

On days like today when all of your other friends are busy, you often accompany him on his evening rounds, doing a full lap of the castle while talking about your lives.

“I hear Slytherin and Ravenclaw are facing off this weekend,” Joshua says carefully. He’s trying to hide a smile, you know — after several years of friendship, he isn’t hard to read.

“Yes, that bastard you call a friend made sure to remind me,” you roll your eyes. “He decided to be particularly insufferable during Potions today, if you haven’t heard.”

“I have.”

“Wonderful.” You fold your arms, sighing. “I don’t get it. How can you even stand him?”

Joshua chuckles, pulling open the doors of a small cupboard to make sure no one’s inside.

“He’s my best friend, Y/N. As difficult as it is for you to believe, he is a good person at heart, and I voluntarily choose to put myself in his company every day.”

“I don’t believe it, but sure.”

“I’m serious! Have I told you —”

“Yes, you have,” you tell him. Countless times has Joshua recounted the story of how they all first became friends; he, Jeonghan, and Gryffindor’s own Choi Seungcheol. Countless times have you laughed it off, unable to reconcile his version of Jeonghan with yours, and you won’t start believing it today. 

“Then believe me when I say he’s a good friend, and he’s far better than he usually lets on.”

“You aren’t going to change my mind, Josh.”

“That’s not to say he isn’t a complete asshole,” he admits. “Because he can be, and usually is, a pain in the neck. But that’s just how he generally likes to present himself.”

“I still hate him.” You finger the end of your loosened tie absentmindedly as you two round another corner. “Jun hates him too. And — well, Wonwoo is outwardly neutral, but he probably doesn’t like him either.”

“Maybe it’s just a Ravenclaw thing,” Joshua jokes. “Y’know, eagles and snakes and all that — Oh?” He stops short, lips lifting into a smile as he looks ahead of him. “What are you lot doing here?”

You stop, too, but you scowl instead. Jeonghan raises his hand in greeting, walking towards his friend and ignoring you at first.

“Oh, just taking a walk after homework, I needed some air. The usual.” His eyes flicker to you and back. “Interesting company you’ve chosen tonight, ‘Shua.”

“Y/N comes with me most days,” he replies. “You just never remember it, do you?”

“No,” Jeonghan looks at you again, amused, “I don’t.”

Choi Seungcheol smiles at you warmly from beside him, a sharp contrast to the Slytherin towering over you. “Hey, Y/N. Nice to see Josh isn’t going about doing these alone, I’d imagine he needs someone to stop him from making any dumb choices —”

“Any stupid decisions I make are always heavily influenced by either or both of you idiots.”

“That isn’t true!”

“Cheol, I don’t want to hear anything about reckless decision-making from a Gryffindor, of all wizards. Merlin’s sake.”

You watch them bicker with a fond smile, tugging on Joshua’s sleeve when they escalate into loud yelling.

“Alright, that’s enough, you guys are going to make the portraits mad with all this ruckus, and Josh has to finish his rounds in time to head back to the basement.”

Seungcheol grins cheekily, red and gold robes swishing around his tall frame as he moves away. “See, I told you that you need her around. Pity you weren’t made prefect, Y/N, I reckon you’d be an awfully good one at that.”

“This is all your fault, Cheol,” Joshua says, but he’s patting his friends on the back amiably anyways, beaming. “We’ll get going then — unless you want to get back to Ravenclaw Tower now, Y/N —”

“No, I’m good,” you cut him off, hyper-aware of Jeonghan’s eyes boring into your back and eager to leave. “Let’s just go, yeah?”

The two of you hurry away before you’re sidetracked any more by his friends. Seungcheol gives you a friendly wave as you leave, and Jeonghan sends you off with a knowing smirk, the one that always puts you at unease, the one that you know means that he knows far more than you’d think. You don’t like it one bit.

“Seungcheol is quite nice,” you say, in an attempt to forget all the murderous thoughts you have about a certain Slytherin boy.

“Yes, he is,” Joshua agrees. “My friends are quite nice. Not that you would agree, though.”

“Yeah, I hate him,” you nod. “Yoon fucking Jeonghan, asshole extraordinaire.”

“Stunningly accurate.”

“The absolute worst, most infuriating person I’ve met in my life so far.”

Joshua winces lightly at this. “C’mon, won’t you cut him some slack? We’re sixteen, we do dumb things every day. He’s no exception.”

“He’s been making my life a living hell ever since we stepped off those boats and into the castle,” you grumble, remembering the way Jeonghan’s relentless teasing had begun the moment you met him, right before your Sorting ceremony four years ago. “There isn’t an excuse at this point.”

“All right, all right,” he says, giving up on ever getting you and his friend to see eye to eye. It won’t ever happen anyways, not with the way you speak about him during these evening rounds and the way Jeonghan talks about you like you’re the most irritating thing on this planet. Some people will never get along; maybe you two are an example of that. “Hate him all you want, Y/N, have at it. I won’t stop you.”

You smile gently. “Thanks,” you tell him as you approach the hallway that leads straight up to Ravenclaw Tower off the left side. “You okay to head down on your own?”

Joshua rolls his eyes good-naturedly. “I’ll make it to my common room alive, Y/N, don’t worry.”

“By the way, will you be at the game tomorrow?”

“Of course! My friends never miss mine, and I never miss theirs.”

You narrow your eyes. “You better be wearing blue and bronze when I spot you, Hong.”

“No promises, I’m afraid. My loyalty lies in all four houses all the time, anyways.” Joshua smiles. “You’ll just have to wait and see.”

“Don’t disappoint,” you tease lightly. “I’ll see you at breakfast, then. Good night!”

“‘Night, silly.”

“... I really meant what I said about the colors, Josh!”

“Yes, yes, I’m highly aware that you’d hex me if I show up in any colors but yours, Your Highness —”

“You’re not funny.”

“Would you like me to Transfigure my hat into a raven and bring it to the match instead?”

“You wouldn’t.”

“I’ll do it right now —”

“Joshua!”

Jeonghan’s eyes narrow at you as you enter the Great Hall, your friends Junhui and Wonwoo by your side. You’re very clearly tired, hair a mess and uniform off-kilter, and he has to stop himself from chortling at your obvious plight.

“What’re you laughing at?” Lee Jihoon asks his fellow Beater, grabbing another orange scone. “You’re never in a good mood this early in the morning.”

“Nothing.”

“You forget how transparent you are sometimes,” the Slytherin says dryly, following his gaze. “Is it that Ravenclaw girl again? The one you love to torture endlessly?”

“You know about that?”

“Everyone knows. There’s a reason Professor Greene never lets you two duel each other in DADA, you know. Can’t have a murder on school grounds.”

Jeonghan chuckles. “Only a little bit of fun, Jihoon. Getting a rise out of her has always been amusing.”

“Amusing until she decimates you with her wand,” the younger says casually. “She’s awfully good with hexes. I wouldn’t get on her bad side.”

Interesting. Jeonghan watches you flit around the Ravenclaw table, talking to your friends, laughing. An enigma since the first day he spoke to you. He wonders what stopped the Hat from sorting you into Hufflepuff, a hard worker at heart and loyal nearly to a fault.

“Anyways, we should get going.” Jihoon’s voice tugs him out of his head, bringing him back to reality. “Win or lose, we better be ready to play this match to death, I reckon.”

Yeah, and especially after the quarrel he had with you during Potions just a day prior, Jeonghan won’t know what to do with himself if his House loses yet again. He just decides that they’ll have to win, there’s no other way out, and he’ll do his part by sending off as many Bludgers as he can.

He follows Jihoon out of the Great Hall, only sparing you a side glance as you wave Junhui off with a smile, and tugs on his friend’s sleeve right when they enter the side shed, where the locker rooms and broomsticks are located. “Hey, listen. I have a plan.”

Jihoon pauses. “Is it legal?”

Jeonghan smirks. “This time… technically, yes.”

“Should I believe that, or?”

“Do you want to win or not?”

Jihoon sighs in defeat, smiling. “Go ahead, mate. I’m all ears.”

“Slytherin in possession of the Quaffle again! Garcia takes it to the middle of the pitch, weaving between the Ravenclaw players, she’s nearing the hoops — oh, no, never mind, Quaffle with Ravenclaw now, Wen taking it back with him. Blimey, that was so fast, I didn’t even see it!”

You and Wonwoo cheer from the stands, watching intently as Jun speeds to the other side of the pitch after a clever play and a few swift movements. Joshua stands with the three of you, donning one of his friend’s Slytherin scarves and having charmed his robes blue and bronze for the occasion. Seungcheol beside him, however, never bothered to change from his usual school attire.

“You stick out like a sore thumb,” you had told him earlier.

“Overslept,” he had said sheepishly. “Didn’t even make it to breakfast before Josh dragged me out.”

The commentary continues, an energetic seventh year Hufflepuff at the mic watching Jun dodge swipes and dart skillfully between converging players.

“Merlin, he’s quick. Careful there, mate! He’s got Yoon tailing him from the left, several Chasers blocking his right, c’mon now — Ooh! Yikes, that didn’t look too good…”

You gasp as Jun rolls over sharply, avoiding a Bludger sent his way by none other than Jeonghan.

“He could’ve fallen off,” you say angrily. “That’s way too close of a distance to hit someone!”

“He’s fine, look,” Wonwoo tries calming you down, pointing at the pitch. Jun dives slightly to dodge yet another one of Jeonghan’s Bludgers and makes a quick pass to a teammate, unable to get past the blockade of Slytherin Chasers. “He won’t fall.”

The game lasts quite a while, far longer than you had expected the opponent would be able to hold out. Your Seeker, a newly recruited third year called Vernon, hasn’t been able to find the Snitch yet: you’ve seen him speed towards something fluttering in the distance before stopping short when it suddenly disappears from sight.

Over time, however, it’s become clearly evident to you what a large part of the Slytherin strategy is. Every time Jun has a close call — which is frequent, too frequent to be a coincidence — you notice a similar pattern; one Slytherin Beater tails him and the other swings the nearest Bludger to his teammate, who sends it flying straight at your best friend. And it’s always, always handled by Jeonghan.

Thankfully, up until now, Jun has managed to get out of the way before getting hit, or one of your Beaters smacks it away for him, but your anxiety rises significantly with every attack.

“They’re targeting him,” you tell your friends. “It’s so obvious. They know that he’s the best Chaser we have, and that he almost always has the Quaffle — look, again! They aren’t even going after Vernon! Does that make any sense at all?”

“No,” Joshua admits. Both teams are evenly matched for points; if Vernon catches the Snitch, it’s game over for Slytherin, but the Beaters aren’t trying to deter him in any way. “I mean, whatever the hell Jeonghan’s trying to do, at least it’s not against the rules this time.”

You shoot him a dirty look.

“What? I’m just saying,” he defends. “He hasn’t tried to knock Jun off his broom while he’s not in possession. I’m pretty sure the rules say that if the Chaser’s got the Quaffle in hand, the Beaters can go to town.”

But you know better than that. You know that it isn’t just a ploy to win, but a revenge scheme, confirmed when Jeonghan manages to find you in the crowd after a particularly obnoxious play and gives you that mischievous smirk. Payback for Jun’s comments the other day, that’s what this is about.

You should have known. Jeonghan hates losing, but more than that, he hates losing to you. A defeat by Gryffindor, he can take — but not your house. Not anything that has to do with you, he’s made that clear over the five years you’ve been classmates.

“And that’s another goal for Ravenclaw! Ten up now, thanks to Hwang rushing in for the play, and now — oh dear, looks like they’ve spotted the Snitch! Will they be able to catch it, or is it a false alarm yet again?”

Murmurs ripple throughout the crowd; everyone watches with bated breath as Vernon and the Slytherin Seeker lock eyes and dive at the same time, racing towards a nearly invisible flicker of gold with arms outstretched. Above them, the game continues; Hyunjin makes a desperate pass after being nearly shoved off, Jun catches it and is about to do a sharp left turn towards the right hoop —

“Oh, hell no,” Wonwoo whispers.

The four of you watch in horror as Jun fails to look out for his right side this time, and the Bludger hits him just at the top of his shoulder, the side of his face taking the brunt of it immediately after. The force pushes him clean off his broom, falling off sideways, and there’s blood starting to trickle from his face, staining his robes.

From the other side of the pitch, there are triumphant shouts from the crowd as the Snitch is held up in the air by the Slytherin Seeker, a slender black-haired boy. Vernon isn’t there; you see him fly to Jun’s aid as his teammates slow his fall before he hits the ground. Everyone converges on him, someone calls for Madam Pomfrey, and you decide you have to see him now.

Seungcheol clears the way for you, tall and broad, and you break through the rows with the others in tow, running across the muddy field until you reach the players huddled in a circle.

“Is he okay? What’s going on?” you ask a worried-looking Vernon, clutching his broomstick. 

“Er… well, he’s unconscious,” the younger boy tells you. “And he’s bleeding. They got him pretty good.”

“What?” You push past more of his teammates, hand flying up to cover your mouth at the sight of his bruised face and bleeding ear, shoulder clearly dislocated at the angle he was hit. His eyes are closed, knocked out by the clean swing to the head — you know that he’ll be fine, that Madam Pomfrey’s magic will heal him up soon and it’s not a Muggle injury like the ones you both had faced as young children, but you’re suddenly angry, whirling around with your hand in your pocket.

Hyunjin runs up to the group, having fetched the matron, and you watch them take your best friend up to the hospital wing.

“He’ll be fine,” Joshua says, patting your shoulder. The others nod. “It’s just the usual Bludger injury, just give it a day or two.”

“It’s not,” you seethe. Most of the students are heading back into the castle, and there aren’t any staff around. “Yoon Jeonghan. Where is he?”

“Uh…” Hyunjin gestures to the opposing team. “I reckon he’s over there. Why?”

“That bastard,” you spit, marching over to the group of players in green and silver robes talking amongst themselves seriously. When you approach, you reach for his shoulder, aggressively yanking him around to face you.

There’s an unreadable expression on his face but he immediately schools it, nonchalant and unbothered as ever, looking at you with a calmness that angers you more by the second.

“Can I help you, L/N?”

“You fucking prick,” you yell up at him. “You knew what you were doing, didn’t you? It wasn’t just for the game. You just always have to have the last laugh, right? You just want to win, everything else be damned.”

Jeonghan raises an eyebrow. “I had nothing to do with us winning the match.”

“No, you didn’t,” tears start escaping your eyes from how frustrated and angry you are, “ you didn’t really care about that, did you? You just always have to win against me. You just need a reason, one reason to mess with me and my friends. Am I wrong?”

“Yes…? Look, L/N —”

Before he can finish your sentence, you reach into your robes for your wand, pulling it out in blind rage. Jeonghan realizes what you’re about to do and grabs for his, tucked safely away into one of his pockets, and you both point at each other, incantations on the tips of your tongues —

“Expelliarmus!”

Your wands fly out of your hands as Joshua puts his own away, walking over to you both. “You can’t fight each other here,” he says sternly, “or anywhere else, for that matter. Seriously, have you two ever thought about talking this out and not attempting to kill each other whenever you happen to be in proximity?”

“No,” Jeonghan snorts, and you nod vigorously.

“Well, I won’t have you two dueling on demand. Not on my watch.” 

“But he literally just —!”

The prefect silences you with a shake of his head. “I’d rather not dock points off either of you, so I’ll just let it go this time, but please … I want my friends alive and well and not at each other’s throats constantly.”

You glare at Jeonghan the best you can (if looks could kill, you hope he would be six feet well under) and stalk off to pick up your wand. Wonwoo offers you an empathetic smile.

“Do you want to go visit Jun now?”

“Yeah,” you answer grumpily, turning around to eye your nemesis, surrounded by his team whispering probably about what just happened. Joshua is talking to Seungcheol beside them, presumably waiting for the group to finish their team chat. “I can’t believe he got away with that, Woo.”

“He didn’t break the rules, there wasn’t anything for Hooch to call him out on,” he tells you, putting an arm around your shoulder. “Jun’s gonna be fine, yeah?”

You lean into his side a little, exhausted and still angry. “Okay,” you finally relent, letting him lead you back into the castle. You don’t look back, but the weight of the wand in your pocket is a burning reminder of the boy you can never, and will never, get along with.

It’s late, well past curfew. Jeonghan knows that, and yet he finds himself slipping out of the dungeons, careful not to make a single noise. Joshua doesn’t need to know that he’s chosen to break a few rules again tonight.

He doesn’t even know why he’s doing this, he realizes as he makes his way up the flights of stairs, careful to jump the disappearing step halfway. He shouldn’t be doing this, really, but something in him tells him to. It had bothered him all day — he couldn’t stop thinking about it and it had kept him up, unable to sleep peacefully.

Jeonghan approaches the hospital wing, treading gingerly. The voice in his head telling him to just go back downstairs doesn’t shut up, but that’s more of a reason why he’ll stay. The image of you kneeling over your childhood friend, panic in your eyes, pops into his head first. Then the look on your face, on the verge of tears, as they’d carried him back to the castle. Your icy glare, wand pointed straight ahead.

He shakes these thoughts away, quietly slipping through the curtains. Madam Pomdrey’s quarters are close by, but she won’t hear him, he knows this confidently. Five years is enough for a boy seeking out mischief to figure out how to properly sneak around the castle.

All the beds are empty, except for one. Junhui is propped up on several pillows, right arm in a sling as he rests. The bruises and blood are gone, but Jeonghan knows that the bone damage will take a bit longer to fully heal.

“You know, you’re the last person I expected to be here at this hour.”

Jeonghan startles, a little. Junhui’s eyes are open now, shadowed by the gentle moonlight. “Ah… well, I just …”

“Gave in to your humane tendencies?” Junhui asks dryly, scoffing.

“I guess you could say that.”

“Cut the crap and tell me what you want, Yoon.”

Why’d he come here in the first place? The only thing in Jeonghan’s mind had been your stricken face and a strange guilt in his chest, that’s all.

“I don’t know,” he says finally. “‘Guess I kinda felt bad for, y’know. Smashing your shoulder in and all that.”

“Felt bad for just doing your job on the pitch?”

“... I won’t deny that it was intentional.”

“So I thought.” Junhui hums, lips quirking upwards slightly. “I’m not offended, if you thought I wanted an apology. These things are bound to happen, and anyway, I didn’t really expect much else from someone like you.”

Jeonghan is quiet, not really knowing how to respond. Someone like him… of course, he hadn’t anticipated Junhui’s attitude towards him to be any sort of benevolent at all.

“Cat got your tongue, Yoon? Is that all you wanted to say?”

“Yeah,” he says finally, averting his eyes from the younger boy. “That was it.”

“Alright, then.”

He turns to leave the infirmary, but he barely gets past the curtains before Junhui’s voice stops him again. “Hey, Yoon Jeonghan.”

“Yes?”

“If you really do feel like you owe an apology, you won’t find that person here,” he says lightly. Jeonghan turns, eyeing the boy with suspicion.

“You’re talking about L/N, aren’t you?”

“You tell me.” 

“She isn’t the one who got multiple injuries to the shoulder and face. You are.”

Junhui chuckles softly, laying back again and closing his eyes. “Huh. Maybe there is a heart in there after all. Way, way deep down in that twisted little soul of yours, in your own twisted little way.”

Jeonghan rolls his eyes, already irritated. He should probably leave before he says something he’s sure to regret later. “I’m leaving,” he replies shortly. “Don’t die, Wen.”

“I’ll do my best.”

That trip to the hospital wing doesn’t help him at all in terms of sleep. In fact, Jeonghan stays up nearly all night, just contemplating. Thinking. Tossing and turning around in his bed. And for some reason, you plague his mind more than he would ever like to admit.

You and Jeonghan don’t really speak much after that incident, not even to strike a nerve now and then in passing. Autumn leaves fall and the first snow arrives with a strange peace of mind that you aren’t used to having since you stepped foot into the castle as a first-year.

Jun, all healed and in prime Chasing shape now, has certainly noticed the change in demeanor.

“Did he finally decide to stop bothering you?” he questions one day when you’re both seated in the library. The Slytherin in question is just a table over with Joshua and Seungcheol, immersed in reading a large textbook. “Has it finally happened?”

“I mean, I guess so,” you say, brows furrowed. “He’s gone radio silent on me for the past month and a half now.”

“You should be celebrating!”

You should. You nearly did, when you first realized that he’d started leaving you alone more, but then it had felt weird to be able to just mind your own business in Potions without those biting remarks you used to receive on the daily.

“Yeah, whatever,” you say, going back to your half-finished Potions essay. “C’mon, focus, Jun. How are we gonna pass the O.W.L.s if we can’t even score an Excellent on one of these darned essays?”

“But I don’t even get why you can’t put dittany and fluxweed in the cauldron together,” he whines. “Slughorn didn’t even bother explaining. He just said something along the lines of ‘do it but at your own risk’ and that doesn’t really help.”

Wonwoo sighs, slouched over in his chair with a novel in hand. “Why don’t you just pay attention in class instead of bickering with each other?”

“His fault!”

“Her fault!”

He sighs again, adjusting his glasses. “I turned it in yesterday, so I can’t remember exactly what I wrote, but the gist of it is that it’ll cause an explosion and if any of it gets on your skin it’ll give you a nasty rash.”

“Leave it to you to do the homework super early,” Jun grumbles. “So unhelpful.”

“No, I’m just responsible.”

You manage to write another few inches of your essay while Jun gets lectured, and when he leaves for Quidditch practice, Wonwoo rises to go too.

“I’ve got to tutor a few first years for Transfiguration in a few minutes,” he says apologetically. “Or I’d have stayed a bit longer.”

You wave him off with a smile, telling him you’ll see him at dinner, and he’s gone, leaving you alone at your table. Not for long however, when someone taps on your shoulder a few seconds later.

“Hey,” Joshua grins, standing over you, “wanna come join us? You seem a bit lonely, plus I feel like I’m going to lose my mind with these two dimwits if I don’t have a voice of reason here.”

Your eyes flicker to Jeonghan, arguing with Seungcheol about something. You want to say no but you end up agreeing anyway, pulling your stuff and a chair over to the empty spot at their table, Jeonghan directly in front of you.

“What did he do?” you ask your friend quietly.

“Oh, Cheol is convinced Jeonghan used an Auto-Answer quill on the Herbology homework and his Gryffindor pride won’t let him just forget about it,” Joshua rolls his eyes. “This is my day to day reality, in case you were wondering. It’s not fun.”

“Well, he probably shouldn’t be using one anyways … so much for being Prefect,” you tease. “Didn’t you say anything to him about it?”

“The world won’t end if a bloke slacks off a little every once in a while. I might be a prefect, but I’m not a stickler for the rules when it’s as harmless as this .”

“Maybe you should have been in Slytherin.”

“That’s what I keep telling him!” Seungcheol exclaims. “He likes to pretend he’s so much better than us, but morally he’s at the same level as this one,” he says, jabbing Jeonghan in the shoulder.

The latter doesn’t reply, just stares you down, eyebrows furrowed. “What’s she doing here?”

“I asked her to come sit with us because her friends left,” Joshua says patiently. “Please tell me you’re going to let it be and not cause a scene.”

“Why didn’t you just leave her alone?”

“I’m right here,” you interrupt, irritated. “You can talk to me, you ass.”

Jeonghan scoffs quietly. “And why would I want to do that?”

“Here we go again,” Seungcheol mutters, slouching further in the chair and hiding his face behind the newest edition of Hogwarts: A History.

The Slytherin’s nonchalant attitude makes you furious, anger bubbling up through your chest. 

“What is wrong with you? You suddenly decide out of nowhere that you’re going to be a decent person and leave me the hell alone, fine, but the second we have to coexist you start picking a fight with me? Are you serious?”

Joshua sighs. “Guys, please don’t get us kicked out of here —”

“I didn’t say you couldn’t be here, I just asked why. If anything, you’re the one picking a fight right now,” Jeonghan points out coolly, and you keep your mouth shut for the sole reason that the number of expletives you have ready would definitely get you banned from the library for life.

Seungcheol straightens suddenly, trying to change the mood. “Okay, um, has anyone started the essay Binns assigned? ‘Cause I have no idea what I’m doing whatsoever and he will probably be able to tell while grading my work.”

“I already wrote it. Here, let me see what you have so far,” you offer, glad to think about something, anything else. You scan his parchment and find several mistakes (“A troll, Choi, not a house elf”), correcting them as you go.

“You should come to the next game,” he says, taking his essay back with a grateful smile. “Gryffindor against Hufflepuff. You’ll get to see us beat Josh to the ground,” he jokes.

“Cheol, don’t you make Quidditch a personal problem!”

You chuckle. “I’ll come, I suppose, but who am I supposed to support?”

“Me,” Joshua says immediately, “because I’ve been your friend since first year and you’ve barely spoken to him, like, ever.”

“Maybe I’ll do what you did and show up in both colors,” you counter. “Two-timer.”

“I told you the night before that I can never pick a side!”

Seungcheol joins you in laughing at him — oh, it feels so good to truly let yourself feel happy for a minute without worrying about everyone else all the time. Sure, you can still feel Jeonghan’s eyes burning into you, but you refuse to look. You refuse to give him the time of day when he treats you like trash and can’t decide whether he wants to be tolerable or a downright jackass.

Maybe someday in the future, once you’re older and out of Hogwarts, you’ll see this as a stupid rift between schoolmates, futile grudges you’re both holding that won’t ever matter in the grand scheme of things. But now, sitting in the library, it’s anything but. 

This is real time, and you are in it. And you are determined to detest Yoon Jeonghan with all of your heart, more than anything else.

It’s extremely late by the time Seungcheol manages to finish his essay with the help of his friends, just a bit before curfew. You’d left a while ago for dinner — thank Merlin for that, Jeonghan thinks — and hadn’t returned, probably to get a head start on other homework.

You are a Ravenclaw, after all. He wouldn’t really expect much else.

So you’d gone, bidding his friends goodbye and promising them both different things, telling Joshua you’d meet him for his evening rounds tomorrow and agreeing to show up for Saturday’s Quidditch game. And that had been all. You hadn’t even spared a look in his direction, let alone spoken to him for a moment.

Pity. He would have liked to crack that smile at you once again, the one he knows will rile you up instantly, but he hadn’t had the chance.

“Why do you even like Y/N so much?” he asks Joshua as they’re heading back, once Seungcheol waves them off with a quick goodnight and turns towards Gryffindor Tower.

“You know, she asked me the same thing back at the beginning of the year,” Joshua chuckles. “Sounded as confused as you do, too.”

“What’d you tell her?”

“That you’re my friend and somehow, somewhere, there is a heart of gold hiding under that pretentious dickhead image you have,” he replies, “and in response to you I’ll say nearly the same thing, except that Y/N doesn’t have a pretentious dickhead image to begin with.”

“That’s such a lie, and you know it.”

“No, I don’t, because as much as you like to deny it, she’s genuinely a good person,” Joshua rolls his eyes. “And as much as you enjoy acting like she’s always uptight and defensive — don’t look at me like that, you’ve said those exact words before — you clearly haven’t interacted much outside of those rows you guys used to have every other day.”

“Used to have,” Jeonghan echoes.

“Yeah, I’m glad you chose to lay off her for a bit, because you were starting to be kind of a dick,” Joshua admits. “I don’t think Y/N’s exactly right either when she’s badmouthing you, and I do defend you when I can get a word in, but you honestly did start most of your arguments so I can’t really say anything as far as that goes.”

The past tense doesn’t go over Jeonghan’s head. He hadn’t really meant to let you be; sure, it seemed like a blessing to fellow classmates and teachers alike (Merlin knows Professor Longbottom was sick of your spontaneous quarrels during class) but it wasn’t intentional on his part.

Somehow it just … happened. After visiting Junhui in the infirmary that night, he stopped going out of his way to bother you. You weighed on his conscience all the time anyways, he didn’t need you in his daily life to add to that. 

Ah, but he shouldn’t be feeling bad for you. Why would he, when he’s the reason you suffer? Jeonghan hasn’t stopped bugging you for five years now, always at odds with you; it’s a game of careful balance, a perpetual back and forth that amuses him endlessly, and he’s never stopped. 

It’s become something like a constant in his life, and perhaps yours as well. Something he can count on to always be present. It doesn’t matter if he’s just lost a match, or struggled in Transfiguration (not that he’d ever let that slip to you) — you’re always there, he can always fire off a sarcastic one-liner, and the rest is as usual.

Maybe he’ll stop now. Maybe it’s good for him to stop now, too, and get you off his mind in the process.

“Hello? Earth to Jeonghan!” Joshua is laughing at him when he finally focuses on his friend. “What were you daydreaming about?”

“Nothing. Just … stuff.”

“Stuff,” Joshua repeats, eyebrows raised. “Alright, mate, have fun pondering stuff. I’ll see you at breakfast, Han. Don’t stay up too late, okay?”

When he leaves, Jeonghan is left alone there, just him and his confused mind.  Maybe someday he’ll figure it out. But right now he disappears into the shadows of the staircase, down towards the dungeons.

He’ll think about it later. Tomorrow. After all, tomorrow is another day.

“What was the ingredient Slughorn told us to substitute for the asphodel last week?”

“You seriously don’t know?”

“Why do you think I’m asking you, L/N?”

“Fine. Crushed firefly wings.”

“... Thanks.”

“What?”

“I said, thanks.”

“Oh. Well… you’re welcome.”

At some point in the middle of the week before O.W.L.s, Yoon Jeonghan realizes that maybe you’re not as horrible as he’d originally thought.

Something in him hates that the idea of you being around doesn’t really disgust him like it used to. As for you being on his mind more often than not, he’s already come to terms with it. After all, five years of arguing with someone might as well form a connection, who knows?

Now, though, he really watches you — not with the critical eye he’s used countless times before, the one he used to catch your every flaw and mistake. No, he just watches you exist and float around your friends, doing what you can.

And maybe he was a bit wrong when he called you stuck up, because you readily help Joshua with any questions, you make your friends feel at ease when they aren’t sure about something they’ve learned. Maybe he was a bit wrong when he called you defensive, and foolish, and stupid, because you’re slowly proving that you’re anything but.

Actually, it might have been there all along, but he’s selectively chosen to ignore anything positive about you in all the time he’s known you, so who is he to complain, really?

He catches you early to Potions one day, talking casually with your friends in the corner. You see him enter and the both of you greet each other with a curt nod. Which is strange, he knows — he sees Junhui whisper something to you, brows furrowed. He wonders what it is; Junhui is somewhat interesting, he’s decided after that conversation they’d had that night in the hospital wing.

When you finally leave your buddies and move your stuff to the table you’re both seated at now, Jeonghan already has his supplies out, parchment and notes on the desk as he rummages through his bag for something to write with. You’re looking him dead in the eye as he straightens.

“D’you need a quill, or?”

He blinks. There it is again, your constant kindness. Now that he’s subject to it, he wonders why exactly he didn’t really notice it before.

“Er, yeah, I suppose.”

Your skin brushes against his fingers lightly as you pass it to him, for a moment, and that’s all. You don’t look or speak to him again that class, but he feels like he’s starting to see you in a new light. 

A part of him hates it. (He realizes he doesn’t entirely hate it.)

Potions is over before he knows it, the time flying faster than it usually does. You end up leaving the room before he can return the quill he’d borrowed, basically bolting out the door. Whatever, he thinks, he’ll see you again. He can give it back to you another day.

Later that night, he’s using it to do homework in the library with his friends when Joshua makes a noise of disbelief in the back of his throat. 

“What?” Jeonghan queries.

“How’d you have that?”

“Borrowed a quill from L/N during Potions. Why?”

Joshua gives him an odd look. “That’s her favorite quill,” he says slowly. “The one with the golden stripes and gray end. She loves that one to death.”

“... Oh.”

Jeonghan isn’t sure why, but this manages to warm his heart a little. The gold speckles on the feathers shine under the light as he twirls it between his fingers, and every time he sees you after that he conveniently forgets to remind you to take it back. 

Maybe he just likes how it looks when he writes with it. Maybe he just wants to carry a piece of you with him even when you’re not around.

At some point in the middle of the week before O.W.L.s, you realize that maybe Yoon Jeonghan isn’t as horrible as you’d originally thought.

For one, he’s started being somewhat decent to you, which is a step up from pretending you don’t exist and a great leap from treating you like absolute trash whenever you’re around him. You don’t miss the subtle manners directed towards you in class, and in passing, and sometimes it makes you pause and rethink. 

More startling is his newly evident courtesy towards your best friend. The first time you saw them acknowledge each other without a scowl or smirk on either of their faces, you nearly passed out from shock.

“What the hell was that?” you had asked Jun. “What just happened?”

“I greeted a classmate?”

“Dude, you’ve hated him for almost as long as I have.”

“You never know, Y/N. Some people might not be worth hating after all.”

“Oh wow, so vague and mysterious, you’re really helping, Jun.”

Wonwoo had laughed at the both of you, telling you to stay focused on getting to class, and that had been it. At the moment. You still think about it from time to time, wondering what could have caused this change in demeanor.

And you start changing yours as well, because deep down, you know it would be unnecessarily mean of you to be rude to someone who seems like they’re trying to be polite. So… you return the favor, answering questions about class and lending quills and parchment. You’re civil, he’s civil, and things seem to be going smoothly.

Jeonghan almost makes you think you had been wrong about him from the start. But that’s not possible… is it? You find yourself thinking about him too often these days, but you still can’t figure him out, and it irks you to no end.

A part of you hates it. (You realize you don’t entirely hate it.)

The week you were supposed to spend studying turns into a week of you grappling with your conflicting feelings about a certain Slytherin that’s been plaguing your mind lately, a game you’re playing within your own head. Forget the Silencing Charm, forget the Draught of Living Death — you’re analyzing his behavior patterns, overthinking every single moment of your interactions.

You decide, in the end, that you don’t really hate Yoon Jeonghan anymore. You don’t tell Jun or Wonwoo, or Joshua, just a little secret for you and yourself. Something about it feels wrong, after so many years of hating and hating and hating, but you’re sure that you’ve never made a choice so right. 

You hope you’re right.

The O.W.L.s pass by with minimal stress and satisfying results, all the fifth years in the castle free for a while to do whatever in their spare time as a small reward for the grueling exam week. Wonwoo has taken up his broomstick again, joining Jun and a few other friends in small games of Quidditch when the weather is nice out. You like to sit and watch as they fly in loops through the air, often bringing with you a small book or some work to do as you keep them company from afar.

Sometimes Jeonghan decides to join the ruckus in the air. Sometimes, he decides to join you. You never know why, and you never question it, reveling in the novelty of coexisting without chaos.

It’s strange now though, the silence that passes between the both of you as you sit there doing your own thing. You aren’t used to the peace and quiet still, eyes darting to his figure hunched over a book every now and then.

Something catches your eye as he moves to write again. “Is that my quill?” you blurt out.

He stops writing, examining the feather between his fingers. “Oh … yeah, I think it’s the one you lent me in class a while ago.”

“Yeah, maybe — no, it’s okay, you can keep it. I’ve got plenty of others,” you say rushedly when he offers it back to you. “It wasn’t anything special.”

Jeonghan raises an eyebrow, bangs curving over his forehead. “Joshua said that it’s your favorite quill.”

Damn you, Joshua Hong. “It looks just like all my other ones,” you defend. “I’ll live without it.”

He merely shrugs, returning to his work. “If you say so.”

You watch him continue writing with it, the ink flowing from the tip and some of it getting smeared on the sides of his fingers. He’s right, it is your favorite quill, the one with golden speckles and a more comfortable feel than the other ones. But you would rather not have it back once he’s already had it in his hands. After all, both of you had forgotten, so why should it matter now?

Up above you, Wonwoo accidentally flies straight into Seungcheol’s back, and the latter hollers at him in response. Tearing your eyes off of them, you observe Jeonghan for a few seconds before asking a question that’s been weighing on your mind for quite a while.

“Why do you hate me so much?”

Jeonghan stills, quill halting. He looks directly at you — he’s straightforward like that, never beating around the bush — and just stares for a second. You wonder if he has always looked this good under the afternoon sunlight, his features softer as he gazes at you now.

He looks like he might say something, lips moving around unspoken words, but they close at the last second as he lets out a quiet scoff. With a quick shake of his head, he’s back at his parchment again, scribbling away. 

The gesture stings as vexation blossoms in your chest. He was being polite, he was being kind almost, and yet he deems you not even worth a response to what is probably one of the most valid questions you could ask. It feels like a slap in the face, and you can feel your eyes welling up already, just threatening to spill onto your cheeks.

Not that you care, of course. Tears of frustration are far more familiar to you than tears of sadness, and this is most definitely the former.

You can’t stand to be around him again, not when his actions are so push and pull, so you grab your stuff into your arms and stand up suddenly, ready to leave.

“L/N.”  Jeonghan tries again when you don’t reply. “Where are you going?”

Oh, so now he cares, you think, suppressing the urge to roll your eyes. You don’t bother giving him a response, choosing to ignore his words as you leave the stands as quickly as you can. You hear him call out again, your first name from his mouth this time (he’s never called you that, it was always L/N with him, and it almost makes you stop and turn), but you keep going towards the castle. 

Maybe you were wrong about being wrong — the idea of it nearly makes you laugh. Perhaps it’s time to just accept that some people might just never change.

“So you just let her leave?”

Jeonghan scowls at his best friend, fighting the urge to throw a pillow at him. The three of them are in the Gryffindor common room, sprawled across Seungcheol’s bed, talking about the most recent happenings in Jeonghan’s life. 

“What was I supposed to do, tackle her to the ground?”

Joshua leans his head into his palm. “I think a better question is, how exactly do you feel about her right now?”

“... What are you insinuating?”

“Answer my question first and maybe you’ll find out.”

Jeonghan sighs. “I don’t know what you want me to say. There’s no huge shocking revelation or whatever,” he explains. “I just… don’t hate her. That’s all.”

“You hated her, and now you don’t, so clearly there’s been some type of change,” Seungcheol points out. “So you figure out what changed, and whether you like it or not.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever hated her,” Jeonghan says slowly, just as the realization pops into his head. “I don’t know why she asked me that. I didn’t have an answer.”

His friends are quiet for a second. “Merlin, you’re dense,” Joshua observes. “Tell her exactly what you just told us! Are you kidding?”

“Yeah, no.”

“Why not?”

“Because then I’ll come across as some weirdo! How do you think that would go? ‘Hey, I’ve been a total prick to you for the past five years but I actually don’t hate you like you thought I do’, is that what you want me to say?”

“Yeah? What could go wrong with that? What are you afraid of?”

“That’s just out of my comfort zone, mate.”

Joshua lets out a hearty laugh. “C’mon, Han. Since when were you restricted to a comfort zone regarding anything?”

He doesn’t know. He didn’t think he was, but recently things have changed so much that he doesn’t really know what he’s doing, isn’t even sure where exactly he stands with you anymore. Everything was perfectly stable, but now he’s been shaken up. Uncertain. If there’s anything Jeonghan hates, it’s the uncertainty of his situation right now.

That uncertainty does nothing but grow with each passing day he spends in your vicinity.

At first it’s the little actions, the kind things you’ve always done for people but never directed towards him until now, and it’s now that he learns to appreciate the gestures he’d thought absolutely nothing of before. It goes from silently accepting your offered notes during Charms to watching you chase Wonwoo around the Great Lake, the sun illuminating your already bright smile. 

Jeonghan wonders why he’d never noticed this, you, before. (He wonders why the sight has his heart pounding in his chest.)

When the first columbines bloom in the spring, you’re there among them in a pretty maroon sundress on the weekends, casting away your usual robes as well as your worries, laughing and talking to your friends. He often happens to see you there, eyes finding you involuntarily as he’s walking across the grounds. 

Sometimes yours meet his in return, and the tentative greeting you give him is enough to send his brain into a tailspin for the next few minutes.

It gets so bad, so confusing, that he decides to sit his friends down again and brief them about his dilemma, hoping for some advice and support. All they do, however, is stare at him like he’s a complete idiot.

“Fuckin’ knew it,” Seungcheol claps excitedly.

“Knew what, exactly?”

“You think she’s cute, don’t ya?”

Jeonghan rolls his eyes, cheeks heating up. “Cheol, I am going to hex you into next week if you don’t stop jumping to conclusions.”

“I’m not jumping anywhere. You literally gave us all we have to know!”

Joshua sighs, watching the back and forth. “The answer is right here, Han, and maybe you would see it if your head weren’t so far up your ass and you would actually face the facts for once.”

Of course Joshua has to be reasonable, and most of the time, right. “And what are those facts?”

“You don’t hate her, correct?”

“Correct.”

“And now you’re telling us that she’s really nice, and pretty, and is aware of your presence, but you refuse to actually talk about it and freak out every time we suggest confronting her?”

“I don’t freak out!”

“Sure,” Joshua snorts. “Your whole world view of Y/N flipped completely over the span of like, five months, Han. How much longer are you going to keep telling yourself no when your heart is clearly screaming yes?”

Silence. Jeonghan blinks once, twice, still taking in the words. He tries his best to suppress it, but he feels something in his chest shift at the thought of you again and there’s no denying it anymore. He looks at Seungcheol, and then Joshua, eyes impossibly wide.

“Fuck.”

You’re busy sending a letter back home in the Owlery, updating your sisters and parents on some important things and responding to a message from your older brother when someone joins you in the room, quietly shuffling around among the school owls. A glimpse of green and silver, and the signature messy black hair, tells you exactly who it is.

Sending off the little pygmy owl with a gentle scratch behind the ears, you’re ready to go, fully prepared to walk past the person behind you, but he’s blocking your path when you turn around, arms folded as he stares you down.

You sigh, mirroring his stance. “What do you want, Yoon?”

“Why are you so quick to leave?” he counters confidently. Something about it is different now though, less cocky than usual and maybe a smidge more sincere. “Can’t stand being in the same room as me that bad, huh?”

“You of all people should know that,” you seethe. “You can’t just go back and forth between being nice and then being a complete dick. Maybe just make up your mind for once, okay? Just settle with hating me if that’s what you want to do so much.”

Jeonghan is silent. You take that as your cue to leave and angrily attempt to walk past him, but he stops you gently with an outstretched arm. 

“Y/N,” he says quietly, looking down. “I don’t hate you.”

“Yeah, right. You’re clearly lying.”

“I don’t,” he repeats, letting go of you now. You make no move to leave, and he looks relieved, almost. “I never have.”

“Yoon Jeonghan, this is a terrible idea for a —”

“It’s not a prank,” he insists, brows furrowed. “God, Y/N, I’m serious. I don’t hate you, and I know I acted like it for the longest time, but shit, it’s not true, I just … I —”

“You what, Jeonghan?” you ask, his name rolling off your tongue for the first time, easily, like it was always meant to be. Something softens in your chest, the frustration and bitterness of the past few days ebbing away slowly.

He just shakes his head like he’s dismissing the unspoken thought. “I’ve never felt that way towards you, Y/N, even though you have. It’s not true, I want you to know that.”

This comes as news to you at the same time that it doesn’t. Somehow you always knew that whatever was between you two, it wasn’t pure hatred. If he hated you, he wouldn’t have chosen to interact with you every single day, and if you’d felt the same you wouldn’t have let him in the first place. It takes two to tango, after all.

“I haven’t either,” you admit, putting aside any inhibitions you might have had and looking him directly in the eye. “I know I behaved that way for a while, too, but I don’t. I’m telling you just … just so you don’t think I totally despise your guts or anything.”

Your confidence makes him falter for a second, but his mouth lifts into that telltale smile again. Not so self-assured as it used to be, but softer now, more gentle and warm. “Does that mean I can keep bothering you during class then?”

“No,” you insist sternly, trying to keep back a tiny smile of your own. “It just means I don’t necessarily think you’re the worst person ever. And I won’t try to hex you when you aren’t looking.”

Jeonghan laughs, a quiet, lovely chuckle. He looks even better when he’s happy, you notice, his handsome features and the curve of his lips heightened by the mirth in his face.

“I’ll take it.”

“Well, it looks like you have a letter to send, so I’ll be going,” you laugh nervously, gesturing towards the piece of parchment tucked into his elbow. “See you around, I guess.”

He nods in agreement, stepping towards the window as you leave, heart thumping so loud in your chest that you wonder whether he can hear it from his place in the room, but he calls for you again before you go. You’re met with a brilliant smile and twinkling eyes when you turn and face him, raising an eyebrow in question.

“You should use my actual name more, Y/N. It sounds good coming from you.”

Jeonghan has never, ever had a jealous streak as far as he can remember. Until now.

He can’t help the way his jaw tenses at the sight of that Gryffindor boy who keeps hanging around you these days, one of Seungcheol’s Quidditch teammates, the one with the loud voice and obnoxious laugh. He can’t remember his name — Chanyoung? Sooho? — but all he knows is that he doesn’t like it when you laugh at any of his stupid jokes, or greet him with your pretty smile in the mornings at breakfast.

Naturally, he decides to interfere in his own way. The next time he sees the guy hovering by you and your friends, he marches right over, sidling up to you and slipping an arm around your shoulder as he takes the seat next to you. 

You just gape at him, taken completely by surprise. “Jeonghan, what—?”

He ignores the sudden rush he feels when you say his name and focuses on the baffled dude standing in front of him. “Hey, man,” he says casually, sizing him up. “What’s going on?”

You give Jeonghan a warning look. “Nothing’s happening. Soonyoung and I were just talking.”

Ah, so that’s his name. Vaguely, he remembers Seungcheol mentioning him several times here and there while discussing game strategy, praising him for his clever plays. 

“Oh? Do enlighten me. I love a good little conversation,” he says, smirking at Soonyoung.

The poor guy looks awfully confused, eyes darting between the two of you uncertainly.

“Oh. Well … I was just about to ask Y/N if she wanted to, you know, go to the end of year ball together in a few weeks. Like, as friends.” He looks hopefully at you, but Jeonghan cuts in before you can make a response.

“Sorry, but she’s actually already going with me,” he says, arm tightening ever so slightly around you. 

“I am?” you ask, at the same time that Wonwoo chokes on his pumpkin juice and Jun lets out an incredulous “She is?!”

“Yeah,” Jeonghan confirms, still not looking directly at you. “Sorry, mate. Maybe next time. We’ll let you know if it doesn’t work out, yeah?”

“Uh… okay? Wait —”

“Soonyoung,” you interrupt with a sigh, “You should go eat something. I’ll see you in Divination later today, okay?”

He takes the hint and leaves, bidding you a hasty farewell, and you immediately turn to Jeonghan. “What the hell was that?”

“Were you seriously about to go out with Kwon Soonyoung?”

You roll your eyes at him, and Jeonghan thinks it’s extremely fucking cute, pulling his arm back to lean it against the table. “One ball doesn’t mean anything, okay? Plus, I didn’t even say anything to him. You answered for me! What’s so bad about him, anyways?”

“Nothing really,” Jeonghan shrugs, trying not to waver under your insistent eyes. “But would you really pass me up for some fourth-year Keeper like him?”

“If you haven’t noticed, trying to purposefully murder people on the pitch isn’t exactly the most glorious position either.”

Jun raises his fork from your other side in support. “Hell yeah to that,” he says, but even so, he meets Jeonghan’s gaze over your head and gives him a thumbs up, his silent and steadfast approval.

“Right, but now you’re sort of stuck with me,” Jeonghan tells you. “Because if I’m not wrong, the Gryffindor table has already started talking, and soon enough it’ll be the whole school.”

“Don’t you think it might cause several shock-related deaths if we show up together and not at each other’s throats?”

“True, but what’s a formal school event without a little bit of mischief?”

“Go to your table, Jeonghan,” is what you reply with, but there’s something in the way you say it that makes him think that maybe, just maybe, he has you convinced, and that’s enough for him. Before his courage fails him and he ends up backing out, he leans in to give your cheek a quick, soft kiss and walks straight to the Slytherin table before either of you can react to what just happened.

He doesn’t look back. He thinks his heart might explode if he does.

“Are you actually going with him?”

“Did he just ask you out?”

“When did you guys stop wanting to kill each other?”

“Do you have a dress in mind yet?”

You raise your hands in defeat. “Guys, slow down,” you say to Joshua and Jun. “Please. I’m going to develop a headache if you keep at it.”

Wonwoo raises his head from the novel he’s been reading. “Already got one over here, you’re kind of late to the game.”

“Anyways,” you continue, leaning back against the tree trunk, “Maybe, I don’t know, a while ago, and definitely not. In that order.”

“I already forgot what I asked,” Jun says sheepishly. “Start from the beginning, please. Like, when did you realize that you’re actually completely in love with him?”

“I’m not!” you protest, but your unsure voice and pink cheeks give it away.

“You so are! Look, Wonwoo, she’s blushing, isn’t she?”

The boy decides to put away his book, crossing his legs and looking at you amusedly. “You are,” he acknowledges. “You have so many tells, it’s pretty easy for us to read you. Are you just going to keep denying it, or what?”

“I’m seriously not! I’m not in love with him,” you say, fingers toying with the hem of your robes. “But… maybe, well,” your voice drops to a whisper. “I might like him.”

Your friends let out loud cheers that have several passing students glancing at them like they’ve been possessed by hippogriffs. “There we go,” Joshua says happily. “It’s about time, too.”

“Just a little bit!” you add indignantly. “Just a little, okay? Like extremely little.”

“That’s not what it looks like to me!” He laughs at the mess that you are right now, flustered and unsure how to proceed. “Okay, so are you going to the ball with him or not? Because you kind of have to decide at this point.”

“Do I? I don’t even know what those theatrics were. Probably another one of his pranks, you know he likes messing with the underclassmen now and then.”

“Are you serious?” Joshua leans in like he’s telling you a secret. “He was definitely trying to ask you, Y/N. Have you ever seen him make a move like that before?”

He’s right, you haven’t, but you aren’t sure what to do now that you’re in this situation. If you say yes, will he laugh it off and say he was just joking? If you turn it down, will you lose a chance at becoming something more than just halfway to friends?

“No,” you say slowly. 

“So, the ball’s in your court now,” Joshua explains. “Up to you whether you wanna go. But after your confession just now, I think we all know the answer to that, don’t we?”

You do, it’s sitting right there in front of you, but you’re not sure how to even digest how drastically your relationship with Jeonghan has changed over the course of the year. In a good way, certainly, but it almost gives you whiplash and a little voice in your conscience keeps injecting worst-case scenarios into your head. 

What if it’s all a joke? What if it was just a setup to make you look like a complete fool?

“I’m a little scared,” you admit. “I’ve spent five years distrusting and being at odds with him, and now I have to actually bare my heart and feelings to the same person. It’s… new.”

Wonwoo offers you a comforting smile. “It’ll always be new, no matter what. As long as it’s a good kind of new. This is good, right?”

“And if it isn’t for some reason, you’ve got us,” Jun adds.

You nod at them gratefully, thumb running across the seams on the inside of the edges of your robes. Yes, it’ll be a good thing — you’ll make it a good thing. After all, you’ve spent five years of this in bitter feelings and volatile anger. It’s time something good happened for both of you anyways.

Fifteen minutes until you have to meet Jeonghan in the Great Hall, sparkling and made up to perfection, and you already feel like your stomach is churning.

“Jun, I’m going to throw up,” you say as he helps you pin some of your hair back, the rest loose against your neck and shoulders. “Maybe I should just —”

“You are not skipping,” he says firmly. “You look wonderful, your dress is perfect, and the guy will be waiting for you in the hall so you’re not gonna stand him up, do you hear me?”

“Loud and clear,” you groan, looking at yourself again in the mirror. You look quite nice, but you’ve never gone to one of these balls before, always opting out to spend the time with your friends in the common room or strolling around the castle. 

This is different, though. Tonight you want to look your best, be your best. Jeonghan has seen you at pretty much your worst most of the time anyways, so you figure it’s about time you show him a different side to you anyways. The thought of him alone makes you a little fidgety; you wonder how he’ll look in dress robes under the shimmering chandeliers, yours for the evening.

When you finally enter the Hall, your friends in tow, you’re swarmed by classmates greeting and complimenting you on your first appearance since you’ve started school. Several girls from your Transfiguration class ask you about your dress and request makeup tips, and you direct them to Jun, who had taken up the role of your stylist for this particular event.

The group dissipates soon enough, and as you search the sea of students milling around you meet Jeonghan’s eyes somewhere in the middle. They light up when you find them, and he starts making his way towards you, navigating through the rest of the attendees.

Jun nudges your shoulder. “Time to go see your man. Go kill it, okay?”

“Let us know if you need anything,” Wonwoo waves as they both slip away together conveniently, just as Jeonghan gets to you. 

He stops short once you’re fully in his line of sight, taking you in silently. You’re flustered under his sudden and quiet gaze, smoothing down the fabric of your deep maroon dress and adjusting the puffy tulle sleeves on your shoulders. 

“Pretty,” he remarks after several seconds, clearing his throat and offering you his hand. “You, uh. You’re really pretty.”

“Thanks,” you squeak out. Breathe, Y/N. Stay calm, you tell yourself as you slip your hand into his. It’s warm and comfortable, and it pulls at your heartstrings when he closes his fingers around yours, holding them securely. “You’re not so bad yourself.”

Your words seem to put him at ease; he runs a hand through his hair as a roguish grin appears on his face.

“Glad to hear it,” he answers, tugging you gently away from the center of the hallway. He looks devastatingly handsome like this under the lighting, looking at you with a strange fondness that hasn’t been there before. A good new thing, you decide. 

When he reaches for you, you hesitate, the two of you swaying gently to the beat. “Jeonghan,” you murmur, “I can’t really dance.”

“Neither can I,” he admits, pulling you to him. “I’ve got two left feet, so I guess we’ll just wing this, yeah?”

Your feet move at random, but in sync and together as he whirls you across the dance floor, giggling when you accidentally step on his toes multiple times in the process. You get stares from the couples that actually do know how to dance and are doing it correctly (that quickly turn into hushed whispers when they realize that it’s the two of you that are together), but it’s not like you care, not while you’re having the time of your life doing Merlin knows what with Jeonghan’s arm around your waist.

It feels different, good. You feel happy and free, like your heart has sprouted wings and has taken flight.

After a few songs, it changes to something much more lively, and you move away from the crowd of dancing students, depleted of energy for now. You’ve just downed a glass of ice cold water when Jeonghan approaches, leaning in to whisper into your ear.

“Should we get out of here?” His voice sends a tingle down your spine, lips so close to your mouth that if you turned a little you’d be able to kiss him right there. “Not like that,” he laughs, looking at your incredulous expression. “Just away from all the sweat and grime and loud noise. I can barely hear you from here right now.”

“You don’t wanna hang out with your friends?”

He gestures towards Joshua, currently trying to catch the interest of a girl sitting by the fireplace, and to where a group of sixth-year Hufflepuffs are trying to get Seungcheol to get on the dance floor.

“I don’t think they’ll miss us just yet,” he says. “We’ll be back before they know it.”

Laughing, you let him lead you away, out of the hall and through several stairways until you’re out in the open air. You raise an eyebrow at him when he turns to face you.

“I thought students weren’t allowed at the Astronomy Tower outside of classes?”

Jeonghan merely winks at you, beckoning for you to come closer. “It’s my favorite place in the whole castle,” he says. “And since when have I followed rules like that anyways?”

“Classic,” you respond, drawing a snort out of him. You follow him to the railing, looking out over the grounds and then up into the sky where the moon shines down on Hogwarts, the stars accompanying it with their gentle light. It’s beautiful from up here; you can understand why he treasures this place so much.

“You know, I didn’t expect you to actually agree to come with me tonight.”

“After creating such a scene during breakfast? You yourself told me I had no way out after the word spread like wildfire.”

“You could have said no. It was always your choice.” Jeonghan turns to look at you, beautiful under the night sky. “And I had to go about it in such an underhanded way, so that I didn’t look like a fool in front of you. I couldn’t just come out and say what I had in mind.”

“Which was?”

He hesitates for a moment. “That I really wanted you to go with me and not Kwon Soonyoung,” he says quietly. “That I liked you then, and I still do now. You would have thought I was crazy if I’d said all that, so I didn’t.”

The confession gives you a strange courage, emboldening you enough to place a careful hand on his arm. “Would you think the same if I said that I like you, too?”

Jeonghan’s jaw drops momentarily, searching your eyes for any sign of a joke. “Are you serious?”

“Yeah. Then and now,” you echo his words.

“This isn’t a prank or something, right? Revenge for everything I’ve done?”

“I can’t believe you, of all people are asking me this.”

“Fair,” Jeonghan lets out an embarrassed laugh. “It’s just a little hard to believe. That somehow,” he gestures between you both, “this happened. And that it might work out. I know I’ve given you very good reasons to not want anything to do with me for as long as we’ve known each other, so…”

“I’ve done the same, if anything,” you reassure him, a little nervous. “I’m willing to try this out, as long as you are. Y’know, if you want. No pressure.”

“Are you kidding me? Of course I want to,” he says firmly, placing his hand over yours. 

Your next words leave your mouth before you can even think about them. “Can I kiss you?”

Immediately, you clap a hand over your mouth, horrified by exactly how weirdly forward you’re being, but Jeonghan laughs softly, pulling it away and bringing you closer to him. 

“Go right ahead.”

He meets you halfway, slowly, as your lips meet for the first time — you nearly knock your nose against his, and he laughs again as he tilts your chin up and kisses you softly, to begin with. You can taste a hint of pumpkin off his mouth, probably from whatever he’d been drinking when you were still in the Great Hall, and it’s sweet, just like him and the hand that’s brushing your hair out of your face and placing tentative pecks on the corner of your mouth.

You decide that you like it. You like him, you like this, whatever it is that you two choose to be after this night.

It’s what he asks you when you finally pull away, looking anywhere, at anything but him. “So… are we, I mean, should we —”

“Date?”

“Do you want to?” It’s the first time you’ve ever seen Jeonghan look remotely anxious; he’s running his thumb over the hem of his sleeves, fidgeting with his dress robes. “I understand if you don’t. No pressure,” he tries joking.

You snort at this. “Yoon Jeonghan, you are so astronomically dense it hurts to witness sometimes.”

He breaks out into a full smile, eyes bright. “Is that a yes?”

At your affirmation, he brings you to him in a warm, protective hug, allowing you to rest your head on his shoulder. The gentleness of his touch makes you feel comfortable, like you could not take a wrong step while you’re here together. It feels secure, and you lean into him, sharing the happiness he clearly feels when you move closer to him.

You start at the sudden gust of wind, fingers tightening around his shoulders. He pulls back a little to look at you. “It’s getting cold. D’you wanna head back inside?”

“I think we should,” you agree, shivering slightly. “It’s getting late, too.”

Jeonghan flashes you a devilishly handsome smile as he takes your hand, leading you towards the door that’ll take you back into the castle.

“Good,” he says, holding it open for you. “Because I think it’s finally time I show my girlfriend off to the rest of the crowd.”

Platform 9 ¾ is bustling today, students lugging their belongings off the train and hurriedly finding their families, not before making hasty goodbyes to friends as well as promises to write or visit over the summer that awaits. 

“Write me often,” Wonwoo says, giving you and Jun each a hug. “Actually, just text. I’ll be in Korea for most of the summer and I know you both have phones. No need to send an owl for that long of a trip.”

“We will,” you tell him, reaching out to ruffle his hair. (He grumbles, but tolerates it because you’re his friends.) “Have a good time, Woo,” you both call after him as he leaves to find his mother and sister in the group of waiting families.

Someone else taps on your shoulder, two quick ones, and you turn around with a grin. “Yes, Han?”

“Thought you’d forgotten about me,” the boy teases, greeting Jun with a fist bump. “Almost lost you in the crowd there, love.”

The endearment never fails to give you butterflies, even now. Maybe it always will. “You found me, though. I was about to come find you, we were just sending Wonwoo off.”

Jun makes a gagging noise from beside you. “Ew, couples,” he pretends to be disgusted. “I’d leave right now if I wasn’t going home with Y/N.”

“You say that like you weren’t secretly egging me on,” Jeonghan frowns, pulling you into a hug from behind you. “Don’t be a hypocrite.”

You gasp. “Wow, you guys were secretly conniving behind my back?”

“Hey, it wasn’t like that!”

The three of you laugh at this, and Jeonghan lets go of you when you turn around. “I think I see my parents,” you tell him. “We’ve got to go now.”

“I’ll write to you,” he says, fingers intertwined in yours. “And you can come visit whenever you want, both of you. Josh and Seungcheol are usually over most of the time anyways, so it’ll be a whole party.”

“We will,” you promise. “I’ll miss you, Han. But I really do have to go now,” you say sadly.

Jeonghan presses a quick kiss to the side of your head, and then another one to your lips after he makes sure that Jun isn’t looking. “Go home, love. We’ll talk later, okay?”

“Bye,” you whisper, heart thudding in your chest as you leave. It doesn’t stop even when you get to your parents and siblings and they sweep you up in hugs, asking you and Jun how your year has been and your little sisters wondering when they’ll get to go to Hogwarts too, or even as all of you pile into the familiar family car, on the way home.

Jun looks at you when you’re all settled in and your dad gets on the highway. “So,” he says, amusement clear on his face. “That was one hell of a school year, wasn’t it?”

“It was,” you agree, smiling in return as you remember all the ups and downs you’ve been through. “But I really wouldn’t have it any other way.”

thank you for reading! come talk/give feedback/ask questions in my inbox, or rb to show support! sending love, aichi ♡

---

be sweet

prince!hoshi x princess!reader (svthub garden collab)

word count: 18.7k

warnings: arranged marriage, enemies to lovers, modern royalty au, family issues, descriptions of food, unprotected sex

tag list (only svthub members since I’m revamping my tag list): @bitchlessdino @wondernus @idyllic-ghost @strawberryya @junkissed

notes: oh my god I finally have another fic out!! this one was truly a labor of love, thank you to all the svthub members that beta read any part of this story. this fic is for the @svthub garden collab and I am extremely grateful for the network’s help with this story <3 I’m very happy that this aligned with hoshi’s birthday! and a big big thank you to my beloved @wondernus for making this amazing header for me!!! as always, I hope y’all enjoy this and please leave feedback through reblogs !!!! and the title is based off the amazing song be sweet by japanese breakfast, listen along to it if you’d like!

The day’s events shouldn’t have felt so taxing, yet they were. There were only a few meetings you had to sit in on, both not requiring full participation. That sounded easy enough for you to handle, you were used to the rigor of royal meetings for years now.

It was easy enough to brush off any requests with a short comment of approval or neutrality, never expressing a thought of negativity unless the guest was close to your family.

You didn’t pull the princess card very often, especially since your meetings mainly consisted of fellow royals who knew the pressure of the job, but today felt different.

Maybe it was the dull pressure that resided in your head, making it hard to focus on the topics at hand. You curse yourself for not taking some kind of headache relief earlier, but now it has lodged itself in the middle of your brain.

You almost work up the nerve to speak up, but your aide beats you to it.

“Princess,” you feel a hand on your shoulder, “there's an urgent matter. We should leave immediately.” Her hushed tone makes your heart clench.

You could only hope no one in your family was hurt. You silently nod and clear your throat, bringing attention to yourself.

“I’m so sorry, but something urgent came up. I have to go, but please make sure to send me any notes and I’ll be sure to review them before we meet again,” You offer the room a small smile, enough to garner empathetic nods from the room.

You let out a shaky breath and stand from your seat, your aide trailing slightly behind your side as you both exit the room in silence.

“What’s going on?” You ask hesitantly.

“Someone has requested a private meeting with you, they asked to keep their identity a secret. Everyone in the family is okay, don’t worry,” The aide turns her head slightly to make sure she can see your response.

You can’t help but ask about your family first, it’s the only thought you have as the only child.

If someone’s passed on, you’re stepping up to handle the situation, and the emergency plans start to kick into high gear.

Luckily, that nightmare can remain at rest.

“Okay,” you nod slowly, trying to process who could want a private meeting with you.

Is an elder statesman concerned about his country? An estranged family member asking for a favor? It really could be anything or anyone.

You both keep a consistent pace through the cavernous halls of the royal estate, your footsteps echoing loudly with each step. You soon arrive at one of many conference rooms, and you’re surprised to see your aide face her back towards the door, she steps aside to let you walk in.

“I’ll be out here if you need anything, lest it escalates to that point,” She raises her eyebrows at you before looking away. That wasn’t a reassuring sign.

You brace yourself before going inside, but nothing seems to prepare you for who’s waiting.

“Hi, lovely.” Kwon Soonyoung smiles at you in a menacingly sweet kind of way, it makes your blood boil.

He’s dressed much nicer than you’re used to seeing him, he’s the type to wear baggy clothes that swallow him whole. In contrast, today he wears a crisp button-down with black slacks, his suit coat nowhere to be found. His signature designer sneakers are exchanged for loafers instead. There’s no logical reason why he could be here, considering his own busy schedule as a prince.

Soonyoung isn’t flying in for a private conversation just for the hell of it.

“Why are you here?” Your tone is resolute, not allowing for even an inch of resistance.

“That’s what we need to talk about. We’re getting married,” He lifts the corner of his mouth.

You let out a laugh that is nowhere near polite, in fact, you’re nearly cackling at the prospect of this idea. It’s simply so outlandish, so fantastical that every time you look at his face it seems more unfathomable.

Most princesses knew to let each other know that if they were charmed by him, Soonyoung was ultimately not marriage material. If anything, he was determined to make himself the least suitable husband possible.

He was the typical sweet boy turned party animal, spending most nights abroad drinking his days away with a new girl in his bed every night. He does show up to the occasional political obligation, but only when his team forces him to. That’s one reason why he bothers you so much, he has such little duty to his native country of Aranorin and the people in it that everyone else has to make him care about it.

“You’re joking, there’s no fucking way,” Your body vibrates from laughter, but you slowly come to your senses once you see he’s not cracking another joke.

“I’m not joking, I’m here to start our courtship.” His serious tone makes you start to consider the gravity of the situation.

“Hold on, so you think you can just come into Maritria, coming from god knows where,” You make a broad gesture toward him before continuing, “to formally start our relationship. That’s what you’re saying,” You cross your arms, returning to your originally defensive stance.

“Yes, this isn’t just coming out of thin air. This has been in the works for a few months now,” He raises his eyebrows to punctuate the timeline. It just makes you even more confused. Why wouldn’t anyone tell you about this?

“What do you mean?” You question.

He braces himself one last time. “I’ve been speaking to the king and queen about arranging our marriage for two months,” You almost think his face goes slightly sympathetic at his admission, but that’s wishful thinking.

Regardless, it’s a blow to your ego.

How could they not tell you? How could they so easily shift the responsibility onto him without saying a word?

It would be one thing if they were still considering other men, but to know the talks were final, that Kwon Soonyoung was your future husband whether you liked it or not, was a devastating realization.

“This is unbelievable.” You let out a shaky whisper, you’re so rattled that you force yourself to sit down and close your eyes, willing yourself to take a deep breath.

You open your eyes to see him hovering near you, clearly a stifled attempt to try and comfort you. Yet, he’s the least comforting person you’ve ever known.

“I don’t want to do this either. You’re definitely not my first choice for a wife.” He scoffs at the possibility that he could ever choose you without incentive.

“Yeah, clearly. You’d rather want a girl who would kiss your ass every day instead of being honest with you.” You retort.

The gossip that flitted between young royals all but confirmed your suspicion that he dumped any girl that tried to make a long-term connection with him. It was fine if he didn’t want to get married. Not all royals are meant for it, and he didn’t have as much pressure to marry off as the youngest child. He could get away with being a lifetime bachelor, but choosing that lifestyle wasn’t worth hurting other people in the process.

“Aw, is lifetime celibacy boring you that much to the point where you’re worried about the girls I sleep with?” He cracks a smile that you match with a forced laugh.

“No, I just think you dump them as soon as they realize how small your dick is.” You smile through your response, causing him to form his arms together.

“You’re so lucky now that we’re together, you can finally stop waiting for those nice guys who don’t have a personality to sweep you up,” His condescending tone makes you frustrated but not deterred from bantering completely.

“So I can end up dating one of your dickhead friends instead? Absolutely not,” You shake your head knowing how insufferable most of his friends are. Soonyoung just happened to be the worst of them.

“All jokes aside, I know you’re perfectly aware of why we’re getting married. I don’t have to look at the news to know things are bleak,” His straightforward approach forces you to swallow the lump in your throat.

You knew the country’s finances were not great.

You didn’t want or need to see the exact numbers, especially if it makes your day-to-day duties labored with worry. Although many political teams insist that princesses have no business in the logistical affairs of running a country, it meant everything to you to know how your country was faring in the world. Maritria already maintained a longstanding connection with Aranorin that gave your country some freedom to pursue other lucrative opportunities, but it dawned on you that it wasn’t enough.

“I’m doing this for my country, not out of some pathetic excuse you may have to avoid self-reflection. You can just get married to me and stop pretending to be a good person, right?” You ask bitingly.

“We both know I stopped pretending a long time ago. Marrying the nation’s sweetheart is just a bonus,” He smirks unapologetically, you don’t like the way the nickname sits on his tongue as if it’s his own.

“Is there anything else you want? I need to get back to work,” You stand up from your seat, trying not to look back at the door while you plot your escape. It was hard enough not to completely explode at him, and you needed to redirect your energy elsewhere.

“There is, I got you something,” He retrieves a small velvet box from his pocket. “It’s not an engagement ring, but just consider it a courtship gift.”

You open the box and lightly examine the ring. You know it’s far too expensive than most of the jewelry you’ve ever worn. Your family was wealthy, but Soonyoung’s family had the kind of money that you didn’t need to plan so carefully around. However, you don’t want to seem so easily impressed.

“It’s fine. When are you planning on proposing?” You brush him off easily.

“That ruins the surprise.” He smiles at you yet your face remains stoic.

“I’ll get your number from someone else, I don’t want to drag this out anymore.” You stuff the box in your dress pocket and start to make your way toward the exit.

“It’s been horrible to see you again, Your Royal Highness.” His stiffly formal greeting makes you turn around to face him.

You squint your eyes. “Don’t do that.”

“What?”

“The Royal Highness thing,” You point at yourself before continuing, “I’m not gonna say Your Royal Highness every time we’re in private. Don’t start giving a shit now.”

“Fine. Bye, darling.” He quips.

Your face contorts into disgust before you can stop yourself. “You’re not gonna make that my mandated wife nickname.”

“You don’t get to choose the nickname I give you, honey.” He approaches you and pinches your cheek before speaking, “Besides, it’ll be fun to try to figure out how to mask my hate for you in public.”

You cringe at his touches, but you straighten up immediately.

“Likewise,” You offer a tight-lipped smile before finally leaving the room.

You close the door behind you and take the breath you didn’t know you were holding in.

“Can you clear my schedule for the rest of the day? I need time to deal with this,” You finally look at your aide with an expectant glance.

“Yes, of course, princess.” She immediately grabs her phone to send notices to those involved. You can’t even remember who you were meant to see for the rest of the day. Your mind simply wanders to your parents, the next targets of your rage.

“I’m gonna go home. I don’t want to see anyone unless it’s my parents. Or him, not that I want him around anyways,” You roll your eyes at the thought of having to voluntarily communicate with him on a regular basis.

“Sounds good. I have his phone number, if you’d like it.” She offers.

“Ok,” You agree and quickly input his phone number. As you type in a contact name, you’re not sure what to call him.

Soonyoung is far too casual, it doesn’t feel comfortable yet. You’re absolutely not calling him by his title, not by a long shot.

The romantic pet names similar to the ones he used with you were not earned, so it left you stumped.

You settle on “headache,” because the ache in your temple is still there, bothering you immensely and now he’s adding to it.

You’re just lucky that you didn’t end up shouting at each other this time.

—

As if they could read your mind, your parents call you in for an emergency meeting before you can make it home. That pent-up rage is starting to make its way out before you even see them, it shows in the way you stomp to your father’s main office, marching far ahead of your aide.

You open the door without knocking, a major sign that you’re not looking forward to the discussion.

Your father gives you a warning look, but you’re not bothered by it. The staff turns their attention toward your bold entrance, immediately preparing themselves to leave.

Your father is sitting in his velvet study chair, poised as always. Your mother stands behind your father, idly leaning her weight against the back wall.

Her demeanor is not as composed, as if she knows you’re about to raise hell.

“We’d like a private meeting, thank you,” He gives a pained smile to the staff and they all file out silently. You watch them with a fiery gaze, waiting for the last person to close the door behind you.

When the door finally shuts, you whip your gaze to face them again.

“Soonyoung? Are you kidding me?” You exclaim.

“Y/N, please,” Your mother tries to intercept, but you’re faster than that.

“Actually, I’d like to know exactly why I was left out of the conversation about me having an arranged marriage, to begin with,” You cross your arms and lean back in your chair, preparing yourself for a bullshit excuse.

“Well, we were anticipating this kind of reaction,” he gestures at you in disapproval, “you weren’t meant to be involved in these discussions in the first place.” He speaks to you so patronizingly that it almost catches you off guard.

“So you can just decide that I’m getting married on a whim, just like that.” You snap your fingers impatiently.

“You know how the country is currently faring, you knew marriage could possibly be an option for financial security almost a year ago. Please don’t act like this is some affront to you,” Your father slowly raises his voice, fists slowly clenching as he elaborates.

“Yes, but you didn’t tell me things were this bad. You didn’t tell me that you had tried everything else. Hell, you didn’t even tell me that you were starting discussions about marriage!” You were trying your best to keep your voice even, but the defeat was starting to show through.

“We ultimately thought leaving you in the dark was best, but we miscalculated.” Your mother tries to cover for your father’s stern approach. You scoff, turning away for a moment before continuing.

Miscalculated is an understatement. You were devastated.

Your father seems to be annoyed that you were showing this much emotion while your mother seems ashamed that the situation has escalated this far. Their conflicting expressions just made you feel even worse, knowing that they couldn’t act as a united front. You wished that it was either complete anger or support from both of them.

“Soonyoung. You can’t possibly tell me he was the only option,” You turn back to them with glossy eyes.

“Sweetheart, you know Arinorin is one of our most important allies. Soonyoung would have always been an option. Even if there were better options, we couldn’t ignore him.” Her comforting tone does little to comfort you at the moment.

A tear finally falls onto your cheek. Her words hurt because she was right. Even if there was a perfect prince waiting for you out there, he wasn’t the prince of Arinorin.

“He hates me, you don’t see how much he hates me.” You shake your head and cover your face with your hands. You’re fully sobbing into your hands and it leaves your parents speechless. You know they’re looking at you with full judgment, but it didn’t matter.

“You’re giving your only daughter away to a man who despises her.” You seethe through your tears.

“He hasn’t given us any reason not to trust him.” Your father speaks up again and it breaks you down even further. He has that immovable stare on his face that signals his word is final.

You compose yourself before speaking again.

“When we get a divorce, it’ll be your fault.” You lift your hand to your cheeks, wiping away any stray tears left on your face.

“You’re being ridiculous, you’re saying that you won’t even try for your country?” Your father shifts in his seat, it seems like he wants to jump up and fully lecture you but it won’t happen.

You finally snap. “I have tried for this country! Every day, I have shown both of you what I’m capable of as a future queen, not asking you for anything. Now, the one part of my life where I should have control, choosing the person I’m married to, I have none.” By the time you finish speaking, your tears are gone by sheer will. Your eyes burn with the familiar sting of fatigue mixed with anger bubbling over the surface.

“I’m sorry, dear.” You see your mother wipe a tear of her own. You were grateful that she saw through you, at least at this moment. It was a quiet show of support that you needed amongst all these difficult feelings.

You put your head in your hands for a moment before looking up at them. “I’m going home and someone will send me the things I need to wrap my head around this entire situation.” Your tone is far more measured compared to before.

Before you can hurt your own feelings by hearing them out, you decide to make your exit. You’re nearly out of the door before you turn around again, letting go of the doorknob.

“I’ll always remember that he told me first instead of you.” With that, you leave without looking back at their expressions.

Hopefully, it’ll hurt like hell for them to hear it.

You ignore the staff members that were peering near the door, eagerly waiting to see who would break first. You’re sure that it looks dramatic, but you were far too concerned with your own feelings before anyone else’s.

—

Once you made it home, you were attempting to forget the stress of the day and it was going relatively well. You were able to catch up on a TV show you’d been forgetting to watch, and finally remembering to do self-care tasks that were left unattended due to your work.

Now, you’re taking a bubble bath with no intention of opening your eyes anytime soon. You needed to just sit, you didn’t have much time to do that most days.

The water is still fairly hot, enough to where you can sink down and continue to salvage any remaining calmness you might’ve had left.

Thus, your vibrating phone didn’t exactly make you feel at ease. You hope that it wasn’t one of your parents, considering your conversation didn’t have a clean finish. Any of their apologies would be falling on stubborn ears.

You glance at your lock screen and if anything, it’s worse.

It’s him. You pick up the phone with an anxious hand and press the accept button.

“What do you want?” You snap at him.

“You actually picked up!” He notes with a hint of surprise.

“Trust me, I didn’t want to.” You shift uncomfortably in the bathtub, the sloshing water calling you out immediately.

“Is that water? What are you doing?” His curious nature already annoys you, so it’ll be easier to dodge the question.

“None of your business.” Your free hand cups the remaining bubbles in the bath.

“Oh my god, is the princess naked on the phone with me?” He sounds far too pleased with himself. You can practically hear his shit-eating grin in the way he replies.

“You’re a horny little freak who hasn’t told me why he’s called yet.” You force yourself to sit up now that the relaxation in your body is quickly dissipating.

“Right. We’re doing intimacy coordination tomorrow. I figured you didn’t look at that schedule they gave you.”

“Shit.” You sigh just out of earshot.

Intimacy coordination isn’t common at all with arranged royal marriages. If a couple looked like they had never met before in their life, it was typically on them for not being more convincing. Yet, the number of public events you two have to be involved in over the foreseeable future warranted different circumstances. If you couldn’t look head over heels for each other at the wedding, it was going to spell trouble for both countries.

“I’m only in town until tomorrow night, so I don’t have to look at your face for much longer than that,” You sigh at his response, knowing that he’s not one to hold back with you.

“I wish you could leave sooner, maybe I could actually enjoy not seeing you even more than I already do.” You reach to open the drain.

“Just practicing my future husband duties by stressing you out, love,” You can practically hear his smile through the phone.

“That one isn’t bad, actually,” Your thoughts trail off once you hear it, but he brings you back to reality almost immediately.

“So that’s definitely not what I’m gonna call you.”

“I’m hanging up.” Your waning patience with him has officially run out and you’re itching to move on with your night.

“Bye, honey!” He’s laughing uncontrollably through the response and it makes your blood boil. It’s clear that this is already a joke to him.

“Fuck off,” You hang up before you have to listen to his laughter any longer. You put your head in your hands and let out a muffled scream.

He already wanted to make this courtship as excruciating as possible.

You finally stand up from the bath and wrap a warm towel around your body, staring at your reflection in the mirror.

Luckily, your parents did listen to your request and a massive document of schedules and timelines of your relationship with Soonyoung appeared in your email inbox.

You had only skimmed the schedule before Soonyoung called you, you stopped looking at it before it stressed you out beyond repair.

According to the timeline your parents created in accordance with his team, you were supposed to have been dating for 11 months at this point.

You can’t possibly imagine putting up a front for 11 months, but then again, you would have to pretend for the rest of your life.

That thought haunts you through the rest of your night routine.

How do you carve your life around Soonyoung when he’s creeping his way into everything?

How do you find peace when you’re with someone who’s determined to misunderstand you?

These questions have you wiping your tears as you attempt to fall asleep that night.

—

To your dismay, the intimacy training was first thing in the morning.

You were barely conscious, but somehow you arrived early with a slightly cloudy mentality and an overall dread for the next 2 hours.

You were the first of the three, besides your personal staff members, to arrive at the dance studio. You figured the space was far too big for what you were working through today, but you forego criticism to admire the room.

Admittedly, you didn’t go into many of the creative spaces throughout the palace because you weren’t a creative type. The arts were simply something you admired from afar, you didn’t have the talent even as a child to pursue these things seriously.

This apparently needed to be remedied as you notice the sweeping mirrors around the perimeter of the room. The hardwood floors were practically shining underneath your feet. You’re sure that whoever used the room was sure to enjoy themselves.

You’re admiring yourself in the mirror when you catch Soonyoung entering the room. He quietly greets the staff, giving short bows to everyone in sight.

It’s the only time you’ve seen him act with a royal demeanor, even in his casual workout clothes it’s a bit surprising to see him this way.

He makes his way over to you with a smile on his face.

“You’re early.” He eyes you up and down.

“Unfortunately, yes. You look.. comfortable.” You don’t mean to raise your voice up another octave, but you were just barely attempting niceties.

“So do you, you actually don’t look like you're trying too hard for once.” He leans against the mirror and gives you another judgmental look.

“It’s far too early in the morning to play this game, Kwon Soonyoung. Don’t get your feelings hurt.” You close your eyes before you get too angry, a slight change of pace from your typical interactions with him.

“It’s fine. I’m sure you’ll be more awkward considering you’ve only had two boyfriends, one who looked like he was your son.” He stifled a giggle.

“Chan was so sweet.” You pouted at the thought of your teenage boyfriend. He really was kind, probably the perfect first boyfriend that you could ask for. You remember how much he cried when you broke up with him. You just weren’t the same person you were when you started dating him at 16, so you needed the space to grow apart.

Unfortunately, Soonyoung was right about the mom thing.

“It’s not my fault I had a growth spurt and the stylists kept dressing me like a divorce lawyer.” You insisted.

You recalled how harsh the style blogs were on you back then, many claimed that you’d never find your own personal style as long as other people kept dressing you older than you actually were. Unfortunately, they were also right. You live and learn though.

However, you didn’t even want to think about your second boyfriend.

“I’m just saying good chemistry doesn’t come naturally to all of us, it’s okay to ask for help.” His faux concern was especially irritating.

You weren’t that awkward with men, were you?

You didn’t have much time to consider an answer before a young woman walked into the studio.

“Hi, it’s nice to meet you both! My name is Elise and I’ll be leading you both through training today.” She offers her hand out to you for a handshake and you accept with a smile. She does the same to Soonyoung and moves toward the mirror.

“So, how long have you known each other?” She dives right into discussions with the question.

“Around 15 years or so?” The number that came out of your mouth was definitely a rough estimate, but it sounded about right.

You vaguely remember being introduced to Soonyoung and his older siblings at a fancy state dinner as a child. He was far less mischievous then, a bit timid around everyone except his family. Since then, you’ve ran into each other regularly due to the relationship between your parents. They were far closer to each other than you were with him and his siblings, so the situation feels a bit ironic now.

“Okay, but I’m assuming you haven’t been in contact very often?” She clarifies.

“Not at all.” He chimes in.

“Right, so we’ve got our work cut out for us then. Today isn’t gonna be too complicated, you’re just gonna be trying some physical activities to see how natural that looks.” Elise smiles in order to lighten the mood, but you’re certain it won’t work out.

“So, what are we gonna practice, hugging?” He scoffs, and you’re certain that he thinks this is all bullshit. You weren’t happy about it either, but keeping up appearances was the most important part of this.

“Yes, I know that sounds weird, but I promise it’ll pay off,” Elise continues to offer reassuring statements, but he’s not convinced and frankly, neither are you. You exchange a glance with him and decide to take the lead as the awkwardness continues to sit in the air.

“So where should we start?” You ask out of a mix of curiosity and dread.

“Let’s just have you both hold hands.”

Soonyoung extends a hand out to you with a smirk on his face. You’d rather slap him, but you’d think it would leave Elise traumatized.

You take his hand a bit too forcefully and adjust yourself within his hold. By glancing at the two of you in the mirror, you notice two things.

First, his hands are warm, a bit too warm for this moment.

Secondly, his thumb is absentmindedly brushing against the back of your hand. You can’t call attention to it or else it’ll stop, and you decide in the moment that it’s too relaxing. He probably doesn’t even notice that he’s doing something so romantic, that little bastard.

“Okay, so how does that feel?” Elise asks.

“Fine.” The reply forces itself out of your mouth.

“It’s fine.” He agrees with a nod of his head. He also peers at the both of you in the mirror with a slight curiosity, his head tilting slightly.

“We do look good together, though.” He murmurs to himself. You’re not sure if it’s the arrogance peeking through and he only believes you look good while he’s with you, but maybe for a second, you can see what he’s talking about.

“Good, and what’s a small physical gesture you can do to make each other feel at ease?” Elise’s question causes you to look up at him.

This feels unnecessary since Soonyoung is not a nervous person. No matter what, his particularly frustrating charm and gregarious personality never allow any anxiety to show to others.

“I can just do this.” He calls attention to the thumb thing and that puts you on the spot.

He seems incapable of needing comfort. It’s one of the things that keeps a silent distance between the two of you. You believe that he remains emotionally stunted in order to navigate his world a bit easier.

He can let the girls who want something more from him down easy, and they don’t realize how bad it really felt to be pushed away until they never see him again.

You didn’t want to end up in that position.

“I don’t know.” You let your mind wander for a moment.

Yet, he was bold. He was always decisive in what he wanted, never caring about what his actions made him look like if it was for better or worse.

You figured that you should be bold too.

You intertwine your fingers deeper into his grasp and pull his hand to your lips, leaving a small peck on the back of his hand.

His eyes widened immediately. “That’s quite forward, princess.”

“I needed to one-up you,” You answer nonchalantly, but you don’t miss the slight spark in his eyes. It was unexpected, and you were always going by the book.

Elise ignores your conversation and continues her questioning. “So I assume you both will be interested in PDA?”

“To a certain extent, I don't see why not.” You pull back slightly into your reserved nature, but he runs with it.

“Yes, we’re supposed to be a more open and progressive couple to represent a new generation of royals, so it would be nice to be a bit bolder,” He nods decisively along with his response.

You didn’t really think about the relationship like that until he mentioned it. While you were attuned to a certain sense of responsibility as the singular face of your country’s new generation of leadership, it was known that you fought back against regressive norms brought up in your daily work.

Why not lean into something new when the image of your respective countries so desperately needed a refresh?

“That’s good to know. I know you both have different styles, but I think there are ways we can meet in the middle here.” Elise notes.

That statement proves to be true for the rest of your session. Elise leads you both through hugging and slightly provocative gestures that make you want to crawl out of your skin, but you both fumble your way through it.

Soonyoung seems insistent on embarrassing you with more revealing gestures while yours are relatively contained. He’s being a bit too playful for your liking, but it helps you understand his personality a bit more.

You decide that you want a moment to speak with him before he flies back home later that evening, excusing Elise and the remaining staff to leave you both in the studio.

“When do we see each other again?” You ask.

“You’re a bit too eager, aren’t you darling?” He smirks at you, and you lose the slight bit of faith you had instilled in him before.

“Shut up, I’m just trying to remember this stupid schedule.” You grumble. You resort to pulling out your phone instead, quickly finding the most up-to-date iteration of the relationship timeline in your email inbox.

“I’ll be in Arinorin in a few weeks to meet your parents,” Your brain works through the schedule quickly, scanning the information fast enough to say it out loud.

“Oh shit.” He mutters under his breath.

Oh shit was right. You haven’t had a proper conversation with the king and queen since you were a teenager. It was typical family friend fare, asking how your studies were going, if your hobbies were still things you enjoyed and a faint interest in any other topics that you happened to bring up.

Since then, there were only brief interactions in passing that were fairly positive. They must’ve thought quite well of you if they agreed to have their youngest son marry you, but that was something you’d have to inquire about with them.

“And to go on a date with you,” You mumbled.

That’s what really rattled you. It wouldn’t be real until no one else was around to direct and stage your romance, it was up to the both of you to make it happen.

“Right, I’ll get to choose what we get up to.” You can tell that his brain is creating a vision that will be less than satisfactory, and you can’t fight the urge to attempt to gain control.

“We aren’t going on your yacht, are we? I think you’ve broken enough hearts there.” You tease him.

“Very funny, and no, we’re not going on the boat… anymore.” He admits with an eye roll.

“See! I knew you were gonna take me there!” You interject, letting out the laugh that had been sitting in your chest for a minute or so.

“I’m never anybody’s boyfriend, cut me some slack,” He says it as if it’d get him off the hook for being mentally checked out during this process.

That much was obvious from the lack of planning, but you’d have to give him some space to try and impress you.

“Yeah, that’s pretty clear. I know long-term planning isn’t your strength.” You bite back and he brushes it off easily.

“Get all your jokes out now, but I’m gonna impress you. Mark my words,” He points at you while heading towards the door.

“We’ll see about that, loverboy,” You check your phone absentmindedly while he sees himself out.

“Is that my nickname?” He pokes his head back into the door with an excited tone.

“Bye, Soonyoung,” You grit your teeth into a smile and watch him reluctantly leave the room.

You can only hope your future in-laws aren’t as insufferable as him.

—

A few weeks later, the trip to Arinorin has arrived and all of its possible consequences are driving you up a wall. The culmination of meeting with your future in-laws, the date with Soonyoung, and the idea of being perceived as his partner outside of your home country are all slightly nauseating.

At first, it was just fun and games, but now, as the plane lands, the tension settles beneath your skin. Soonyoung was supposed to be picking you up, but you didn’t have much faith in that happening.

You barely remembered to grab the ring he gifted you so you could wear it while you were in town, simply as a reminder that this was all happening.

You exit the plane with your luggage in tow, only for Soonyoung to be waiting on the tarmac. He’s accompanied by a large black SUV that is clearly not his personal car, but his stance is trying to convince you that it is.

“Hi, princess.” He calls out with a wave of his hand.

“When are you gonna actually call me by my name?” You approach him with squinted eyes, your vision steadily adjusting to the early afternoon sun.

“When this feels less awkward, so give or take a few years,” He jokes.

“Not funny,” You gesture to him to take your luggage, and he catches the hint once you look at him again. You don’t want to shoulder smaller tasks onto his staff, you wanted to see how he would handle these things instead.

“How was the flight?” He calls out to you again, you hear the trunk slam shut and he comes into view again to anticipate your answer.

“It was alright, I’m just tired.” You rub at your temples to punctuate the feeling.

“Hopefully your room will be good enough,” He sounds somewhat considerate while opening the door for you. It feels wrong.

You slide into the back row with him following behind you. He shuts the door and his driver promptly begins the drive to the palace.

“Are you nervous about the trip? My parents aren’t exactly as kind as yours,” Soonyoung chuckles.

You let out a deep sigh. You wouldn’t call them kind considering the circumstances, in fact, you’re barely on speaking terms with them outside of public obligations.

Was it petty? Yes.

Was it also justified? Yes.

You figured that icing them out for a while would help them come to their senses. If worst comes to worst, maybe it could help you gain further control over the wedding.

Nevertheless, you were still upset with them.

“They’re really not that great, and I’d say that I’m pretty good with parents,” You avoid his glance to look out the window instead, taking in the sights of the country.

You don’t have many memories of Arinorin. Many of them were informed by meetings that you couldn’t even remember anymore.

“You’re right. The nation’s sweetheart can charm anyone. Plus it’ll give me time to think about what we’re gonna do on the date,” He affirms with a nod of his head.

“God, don’t remind me. If I’m lucky, we’ll be meeting at a strip club.” You roll your eyes.

“You really have no faith in me!” He pouts. You don’t give into him though.

“It's hard enough just being in a car with you.”

—

Soonyoung doesn’t ever have to think about first dates.

In fact, he doesn’t think he’s been on a proper first date since he was a teenager. Even then, it was low stakes. He could just pick something random for him and another girl to do, and it would be completely inconsequential to his life.

Now, impressing his future wife with an incredible first date feels monumental. He barely knew anything about you besides that goody two shoes personality of yours. It seemed like everyone was suddenly obsessed with you and he was the last to know.

He decides that a midday picnic is inoffensive enough for the both of you to enjoy. If either of you were miserable with each other, there would at least be good food to distract from it. The sunny weather was already on his side, now he just had to charm you.

You waved slightly as you approached his picnic blanket, stopping before your feet could cover the edge of the blanket.

“Wow, this is a lot,” Your eyes landed on the assortment of food spread across the blanket. There was a spread of fruit, snacks, and sandwiches for the two of you to eat together. Soonyoung knew he didn’t completely fuck up by the way you nodded, but you weren’t exactly jumping to praise him in general.

“I don’t get a hello?” He attempts a greeting but it falls flat.

You roll your eyes. “Hi, Soonyoung,” You state halfheartedly, crossing your arms in protest.

“Hi. Does the food look alright?” He takes off his sunglasses and fixes his gaze on you.

“Yeah, I figured you’d be inept at setting up a date, so it’s surpassed my expectations already,” You give him a tight-lipped smile before sitting on the blanket. He attempts to ignore the way your dress hikes up slightly to expose your thigh. The sundress that you’re wearing seems to expose every detail of your body that he’s neglected to look at, but he snaps back into focus when he hears you clear your throat.

Once you both start eating, it’s clear how little you have in common with each other. Sure, he figured it’d be a little difficult to get to know you, but the lingering silence doesn’t exactly make him eager to strike up a conversation.

“How do you feel about all this?” You ask suddenly. It catches him so off guard that he chokes on the piece of fruit he was chewing.

He coughs, raising the attention of the nearby guards. You turn to them, giving a signal that he’s okay before turning around. “Damn, I didn’t think the question was that bad,” You laugh sadly.

“No, it’s fine. I just didn’t expect it.” He waves off any suspicion.

He takes a deep breath. “I mean, I’m not thrilled. I know the economic aspect of this is the most important thing, but my parents are practically dying to marry me off,” He reaches for a bottle of wine, grabbing a nearby glass before pouring himself something to drink.

“So I’m not the first?” You ask.

“Absolutely not,” He snickers. This relationship would mark the 5th time his parents have tried to set him up with a fellow royal. He has managed to sabotage all previous attempts on account of pissing his parents off.

The girls they set him up with were nice enough, but he had no chemistry with any of them. He felt like sparing them from a relationship full of misery by ruining it before it even started.

“So your parents figured you wouldn’t want to escape a marriage instead of just dating?” You attempt to clarify.

“Bingo,” He sips his wine before handing you the bottle.

“So, does that mean you’re gonna try to escape this?” You accept it and pour yourself a fuller glass, immediately taking a sip after asking the question.

“I think you’d be pretty fucked if I tried to do that. I’m not that much of an asshole,” He shakes his head and laughs it off. Since being hated by his parents was bad enough, Soonyoung didn’t want to become the center of an emerging geopolitical crisis.

It would fuck everyone over, especially you. He could at least admit to himself that you didn’t deserve that.

“That’s nice, I guess,” You smile halfheartedly at him.

“Don’t say I never did anything for you.” He speaks in an unusually flat tone before turning away to face the view of sprawling hills and seemingly endless mountaintops. The sight of the burgeoning nature surrounding the houses below him brought a sense of peace.

Before you asked, he hadn't given the entire arranged marriage process much thought. Sure, he knew that you’d be getting married relatively soon, but he had no idea how to present himself as a good partner. He didn’t exactly know how to move forward knowing that everyone expected him to fail.

“You really are a dickhead,” You mumble.

“You’re not exactly sweet as pie either. Everyone loves you, but you’re fucking miserable to be around.” He responds in a piercing tone.

“Well, if you get to be a cunt, then so should I. It’s not like I’m getting anything out of this,” You shoot back.

You were definitely worse off as an only child. Sure, he was the black sheep of the family, but he could get away with plenty of things as the youngest. His siblings were off impressing the world by ruling the country, getting PhDs, having a shit ton of kids, and generally being upstanding citizens.

However, it didn’t make sense for him to try that hard.

“Your country’s finances won’t go to shit, isn’t that enough?”

His question seems to bring out another layer of frustration for you. “No, I want a husband who gives two shits about me past my bra size, but apparently that’s wishful thinking,” You angrily bite into a strawberry and turn away from him.

“Look, we don’t have to do anything except pretend that we’re in love. So, let’s not do anything past that. Alright?” He proposes. Your face is unreadable, but the way you chew on the inside of your lip shows that he’d never get to know what’s eating away at you.

“Alright,” Your body language seems to retreat completely.

The mood of the date is different after that, and his request seems to render you both silent as you eat the rest of the food without interacting. The view of the countryside makes him wish that he didn’t have to deal with any of this, just live in a tiny house where no one had to remind him about his impending marriage.

—

The entire day leading up to the Youth Summit Ball left you feeling incredibly rattled.

You know the staff is perfectly capable of executing your vision for the ball as they've done year after year. It was one of your signature events as a royal, and its annual presence in Maritria brought much-needed attention to the country with the presence of young royals and its ever-popular red carpet.

Tonight, however, would be the first time Soonyoung is escorting you as a “longtime” boyfriend in public. You’ve been seen together in public, yes, but this is a public declaration that you are hypothetically in love with him. As a co-chair of the event, nothing could go wrong since many of your peers would be attending with their families.

Nothing could go wrong, thus you needed him to know the extent of your anxiety.

You heard a knock on the door, and you’re accepting them inside without a second thought.

“You wanted to see me?” He asks as he steps inside the dressing room.

You’re thrown by how handsome he looks. You argued with each other over text about what he should wear, he insisted that it didn’t matter. Yet, your color palettes were not to be betrayed. You internally thank yourself for persisting with a navy suit. It contrasted well with his platinum-blonde hair that seemed to attract as many eyes as possible while you were out in public together.

“Yes, I did. You need to behave tonight, I’m not risking anything because you want to get your dick wet,” You scoff.

“Trust me, I already got this little lecture from your mother. I’ll be fine.” He smirks at you, not doing much to quiet the anxiety that was starting to build in your stomach.

“Well, your girlfriend is telling you herself that I’m serious about this,” Your hands automatically move up to his shoulders, smoothing out the nonexistent creases on his jacket. It was still weird to call yourself his girlfriend, the word felt too stiff coming from your mouth.

“And I’m reluctantly listening,” He moves his hand to your bare shoulder, brushing something off with a few light sweeps. You opted to wear a black form fitting gown, the design was relatively simple but it was still eye-catching. You thought you noticed Soonyoung taking glances at you.

“Do you remember everything I told you about tonight?” You remind him.

“Why wouldn’t I remember, Y/N?” He gives you that “are you serious” kind of look and you’re starting to buckle under the pressure.

“I don’t know, maybe you’re nervous or something,” You turn away from him, peering into the mirror to check if there are any flaws with your makeup.

“I don’t get nervous about stuff like this. Are you nervous?” You see him approaching, but you put your focus immediately back on your face.

“What? No, stop, I’m fine,” You purse your lips to check your lipstick. He mimics you, pushing his lips out like a duck and it startles you.

“Those cheeks of yours are telling me otherwise,” He rubs a finger on your cheek and you slap it away almost immediately.

“Stop, Soonyoung, I’m serious. Let’s just get through the night.” You shoot him a warning look and he puts his hands up defensively.

“Okay, no funny business. I promise,” He smiles. It’s not enough to convince you, but your mind is too focused on creating a good outcome for the night that it’s fruitless trying to argue with him any further.

“Ready for a good time?” He offers his hand out to you, and you reluctantly accept it.

“It sounds bad when you say it.”

—

“You know, she said we should kiss just once to see what it’s like,” His voice was slightly slurred as if the alcohol was slowly taking possession of his words.

“You’re just tipsy,” You throw your purse across the living room and fumble to lock the door shut.

“No, you are, I saw you sneak two shots out of the kitchen,” He points with a shocked smile, “plus a few glasses of chardonnay. You’re not fooling me, princess.”

He was probably right, but that didn’t make it any better. “God forbid that I wanna drink at my own event. Why are you at my place right now?” You’re irritated at his presence almost constantly.

“You wanted me to do everything for you, remember? So you could just hop into bed with no worries,” He waves his arm into the air.

The event went well, accounting for your drunkenness and Soonyoung’s unpredictable nature.

“What are you waiting for then? Take my shoes off,” You flail your arms helplessly, your body is slowly slumping forward but Soonyoung catches you before you stumble.

“Okay, let's sit down, miss bossy. You’re ordering me around when I was a perfect boyfriend tonight,” He guides you to your couch, slowly easing you down onto the seat when you let out an audible sigh of relief.

“You were an average boyfriend who didn’t look stupid in front of paparazzi. Don’t feel too proud of yourself.” Your tolerance for his shenanigans was lower than usual now that you were drunk, and you didn’t feel bad about fighting back at him.

“All of this is extra credit,” He tries to reason himself out of the bare minimum.

“Taking care of me is not extra credit, it’s the standard. You’re supposed to be taking care of me for the rest of my life, not just right now. Idiot,” You roll your eyes and close them briefly before his voice forces you awake again.

“You’re so mean to me, your poor boyfriend is still learning what you like,” He finally takes off your heels and you let out a deep sigh of relief.

“Better?” He asks with a smile. You know that he wants to laugh at you so badly, but you’re too far gone to care.

“Much better,” You close your eyes for a moment before snapping again. “Take off my jewelry.”

He removes your earrings quite easily, but you still feel a bit flustered when he leans toward your ear to focus on undoing the clasps of your necklace.

He settles his face near your neck to fully remove your diamond necklace, he cradles it in his hand and you think you might go slightly insane. He places it on the coffee table gently and looks back at you with a smirk.

“What’s going on?” You pick up on his expression.

“Nothing, I’m gonna do your hair.” He turns your body so your back is facing him now. He’s sort of just feeling around for bobby pins, placing them down on the coffee table whenever he pulls another out. Once he takes out the decorative pins near the top of your head, your hair finally feels free.

“Soonyoung?” You ask suddenly.

“Hmm?” He’s organizing all the hairpins but takes a moment to look up at you.

“Do you think I’m pretty?” Your voice is a bit timid, nervous about how he might react. You would’ve contained yourself in any other circumstance, but now you just needed to head that you were worth complimenting.

“Where’s all this coming from, you’re just fishing for compliments now,” He shakes his head with a smile on his face.

“No, I’m not. It’s just-,” Your thoughts trail off, but Soonyoung catches your attention again with a gentle hand on your thigh. You don’t jump to move it away.

“Everybody was looking at us, but some people looked at us like I wasn’t meant to be with you. Is that true? Am I not pretty enough to be with you?” You feel increasingly insecure the more you elaborate. You didn’t think you’d feel this upset about it, but it meant your work was failing. You weren’t a believable couple and it was obvious to you now.

“Y/N, don’t say that. You’re beautiful,” His voice is noticeably softer.

“Not beautiful enough to sleep with. You wouldn’t sleep with me,” You rub your eyes with your hands and Soonyoung removes them from your face, laughing at the traces of makeup on the sides of your fingers. It seems like he still caught what you said though when he stops laughing.

“And that’s not the point. You’re just saying shit now, all of the guys in there would be lucky to even kiss you,” He insists. He stands up suddenly and walks toward your room. You assume he gets up to find makeup wipes, but you sit with his statement in the meantime.

You contemplate if you’d even want to kiss any of the royals who came to the party. You knew your standards were high and wondered if that would chase them off before they even had a chance to kiss you. He comes back and immediately wipes across your face the moment he sits down. His approach is slightly rough, but you couldn’t exactly get mad at him. He was just doing what you asked of him.

He’s analyzing if he got all of the makeup off when you speak up.

“But you’re not lucky?” You remark quietly.

That makes him clear his throat. You can even spot a hint of blush across his cheeks. It appears that you’ve riled him up slightly.

“I am lucky,” He lowers his head to rub the back of his neck with his hand, “You give me a run for my money.”

“Show me how lucky you are.” You continue to tempt him to see how he’ll react.

“I thought you wanted me to behave tonight?” He’s almost willing to act, but he still waits for your approval.

“I do, but she said we should kiss for practice,” You swallow lightly in anticipation. He rests his forehead against yours and you can hear his breath hitch in his throat.

You’ve been good, you’ve been so good all of your life. You don’t think you’ve done anything worth batting an eye at for your entire adolescence and young adulthood, but it was exhausting.

It was exhausting to be good, the voice of reason, the example of a perfect daughter to your country.

You weren’t in love with him, absolutely not.

Yet, the curiosity about what his lips tasted like made you want to be rebellious.

“I didn’t think you heard me.” He chuckled softly.

“I did,” You nodded your head against his. Soonyoung didn’t ask for permission to be bad, he just did it. That’s what runs through your brain when your lips meet his. Neither of you move for a moment and you’re afraid that you messed up.

That is until you feel Soonyoung’s hand cradling the back of your neck. He’s tilting into the kiss and you know he’s comfortable by the way his tongue slips into your mouth.

He tastes like tequila mostly, but there’s a hint of sweetness that you suspect comes from the dessert table at the party.

It feels so much better than you expected, now you know why girls couldn’t get enough of him. Even if it is just practice, he still took it far more seriously than you expected.

You haven’t had many kisses that were worth remembering, but this was something spectacular.

You know he’s kissed people far more times than you have, but there’s still a hesitant energy there that you can’t describe.

Did you make him nervous?

He pulls away first and it surprises you. He takes a deep breath and looks at you with tired eyes.

“Just a practice kiss, right?” He whispers.

“Just practice.” You affirm, pulling your head back. You’re not sure why it felt so disappointing to not have another kiss. You were sobering up which made the realization even worse.

“I’ll leave now before you kick me out.” He stands up from the couch and you don’t follow him. He makes it to the door and turns around.

“Don’t stay up all night reading thinking you can fight a hangover, go to bed.” He points at you with a teasing finger.

“Don’t lecture me, Kwon Soonyoung.” You stand up and walk toward your bedroom, ignoring whatever expression is on his face. You don’t look back until you hear the front door shut.

He didn’t say goodbye and that was probably for the best. You didn’t need any other memory from this part of the night to linger in your brain.

You rush back to the living room to lock the door again and sulk back to your bedroom. You eye the novel on your bedside table, you left it there earlier in the day to pick up whether you ended up drunk from the party or not.

Damn, he was good.

—

There were now multiple days, even weeks, between your shared schedules with him, and the more time that went by after the kiss only made you want to see him again.

Of course, he was friendly to you in public, and you were both able to handle public events with ease, but

the timing left you with many questions, and one stuck out in particular.

Why was he nervous to kiss you?

Today, he requested a private schedule for the two of you before he left Maritria early next week. There was a sneaking suspicion that it was the proposal since there wouldn’t be another reason for you to be alone.

He never wants to be left alone with you, it’s all about putting on an act for others that makes it so thrilling for him.

That’s what you try to tell yourself, at least.

“You’re here,” He eyes you carefully as you approach the entrance of the private garden. He’s surrounded by endless blooms, it’s almost suffocating how romantic it’s supposed to feel.

“I’m here because you want me here,” You offer quietly.

“Right, well I don’t want to waste any time. I’m sure my princess has lots of work to do today.”

On any other day, he’d be right, but the underlying suspicion of his true intentions made you want to linger.

He grabs your hand before you have another second to contemplate your feelings.

“I know that I’m not the person you wanted this to be from, but that’s how things have turned out. We both can’t get what we want, but I want to make this a good memory for us regardless of the situation.”

He gets down on one knee before asking. “So, Y/N, will you marry me?”

His hands held a small black velvet box and he quickly opened it to reveal a stunning oval shaped diamond ring. There are definitely more carats than you've ever seen on an engagement ring, and the gold band it sits upon feels equally regal.

It almost makes you sick from how ornate and gaudy it is, but it’s yours.

“You know this is the part where you say yes,” He clears his throat.

“Give me a second,” You mumble. You can’t see his glance, instead choosing to look at the ring. Everything else felt like a game before, but this was real.

He is proposing to you, offering a ring to you to signify a love that wasn’t actually real. That kind of sappy affectionate love you dreamed of would never come to fruition, possibly for the rest of your life.

It’s a realization that is entirely too bleak for the moment.

You’re meant to be happy, but if your parents were here they’d pick apart how long it took you to respond.

“Yes, I’ll marry you,” You force a smile onto your face to appease him. It doesn’t seem like he notices the pained expression within it, only offering a content sigh.

“Great.” He rises to his feet to place the ring on the appropriate finger. It feels like it’s all over now, you can imagine the rest of your future laid ahead of you on a set path.

The thought of taking constant publicity trips as a couple, having future heirs to the throne, and the idea of bringing him into Maritria’s lineage makes you wonder if you did everything you could to save yourself.

There is no out, just you, him, and the impenetrable distance between you both.

You wonder how a couple might build a life with an unstable foundation.

“Should we kiss?” His question brings you back to your senses.

“What?”

“For the camera, we should kiss.” He points to a photographer making themselves known from a nearby bush.

You swallow the lump in your throat and nod.

This is your duty, right?

You pull him close and kiss him, trying to ignite the small spark you felt when he was at your apartment.

Yet, the feeling doesn’t come and you pull away from him gently after a few moments.

“We just need some photos for social media and then you’re free to go.” The photographer reassures you with a kind tone.

You snap into professional mode in order to speed up the process. Your hand rests on his chest, angling it slightly to show off the ring. You force a smile, trying to indulge in the fantasy of it all. Once he gets a few shots of that pose, you turn back to look into Soonyoung’s eyes.

He was unfortunately quite handsome, it’s a shame that nothing else about him could make you happy.

“What are you thinking about?” His questioning pulls you out of your head once again, but you’re not sure what to tell him.

Being honest with him means making a sweet moment uncomfortable, and lying to him means letting your pain continue to simmer.

You go for the latter, to spare everyone a difficult moment. “Nothing. The ring is beautiful,” You shift the conversation with a quiet tone in order to deflect the topic off of you. He smiles widely, his face tells you that he didn’t expect you to like it one bit.

“I let my team take the reins with it since I don’t know you that well.” He responds so earnestly, and you’re not sure if he understands how hurtful that sounds.

You take it in stride though. “Well, it’s beautiful.”

He only nods and takes a moment to adjust his suit jacket.

You watch him brush over the fabric with his hands, wondering how in the world you ended up here. Even if things were different, fate would probably still bring you into Soonyoung’s orbit in another way.

Regardless, it’s enough to make you even more upset. Once the photographer is satisfied with the variety of shots, you’re about to leave when you feel Soonyoung’s hand touch your shoulder.

“Hey.” He turns your body to face him with his hand. You’re not sure how much longer you can stand in front of him without crying.

“We’re still on for this weekend, right?”

You can’t be bothered to remember what he means, but it’s best just to agree. It’s not like you had much of a choice.

“Yeah. I’ll see you then.” You nod at him before leaving. The moment you turn your back, you can’t hold back the stray tears falling onto your cheeks. You can only hope that he can’t hear your sniffling.

—

Now that the proposal news was officially out, your life had an even bigger microscope on it than usual. You’re used to being judged on a public scale, however, there were millions of people who were obsessed with Soonyoung that now wanted to know every single piece of information about his new fiancée.

Your Instagram posts and tweets had an influx of new activity that you could barely keep up with, and the new attention was starting to work into every corner of your life, even the time you spent with Soonyoung.

“Can you tell your fans to stop making video edits of me?” You stuff your phone into your jacket pocket in slight annoyance. You were genuinely trying to enjoy the private dates you had with Soonyoung, even if they were heavily guarded by staff. It was only right that you treated these outings as the dates they were, opportunities to get to know him better in order to connect with him that would hopefully prevent any issues further down the line.

Today, the location of the date was your choice and the staff had elected to leave you alone in light of the proposal news. Thus, you decide to take Soonyoung to a small beach on the outskirts of Maritria’s capital city. You’ve spent many days throughout your teenage years in your favorite spot, a cove in a hidden part of the beach. You figured that it’d be smart to let him in on a few things that you enjoyed, namely one of your most treasured spots in the country.

“That means they like you, and since when are you afraid of attention?” His interest is now piqued as he places his head in his hand to face you.

“Since always, I’m not exactly a Kwon Soonyoung-level attention whore,” You scoff.

“I think that’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me,” He speaks in an exaggerated sad tone, accompanied by his pretending to cry. He turns his head to face you, sunglasses attempting to hide the goofiness peeking through.

“Still, I mean this is all a lot. I’m not exactly important enough to warrant 700,000 new followers.” You attempt to redirect the conversation.

As soon as the remark leaves your mouth, Soonyoung takes his sunglasses off. He looks at you with a confused glance, as if your self-deprecation was a personal attack on him.

“What are you talking about? You’re a princess and a genuinely nice one at that. That’s pretty hard to come by these days,” He compliments you. It pulls at your heartstrings very slightly, enough to absentmindedly check for a blush on your cheeks before snapping out of it.

“You wouldn’t know, you don’t see anything past the title before you sleep with these girls,” You attempt to defuse the response again, but he’s prepared.

“First of all, those days are behind me. I’m a proper engaged man now,” His thumb grazes your engagement ring and it sends a chill down your spine.

“And second, that statement is funny coming from someone who’s marrying me for financial stability,” He pokes your shoulder and you move to cover it.

“Correction, my country’s financial stability. You’ll have to get used to living here once we’re married,” You clarify.

“Who said we’re living in Maritria?” He argues instantly. You let out a sigh and try to understand the perspective he’s going to bring up.

“Soonyoung, wouldn’t it be smart to show how much the country’s condition would improve with you here?”

“Yes, but imagine being in Arinorin. The optics of giving you away to the country that saved yours seem pretty positive to me.” He suggests. While idealistic, the perspective is shortsighted. He didn’t necessarily have a shining future back in his home country considering his reputation and lack of communication with his parents.

“Even though you’ll never be king?” You didn’t mean for the question to sound so mean, but it’s true.

He was not the country’s future king, not unless there were dire circumstances that would force him into the position.

He scoffs. “Way to rub it in.” He looks into the distance, not acknowledging your glance anymore.

“I’m just saying. At least here, you’ll have the chance to have more of the public’s attention. There’s nothing to fight over, it’s just me,” You add sympathetically.

There’s a lingering silence that you don’t want to fill for the moment. You can tell he’s mulling over your words by the way he’s looking down at his hands, playing with his sunglasses idly.

“You know, you don’t have to stay there. Not to be that person, but if the idea of staying makes you feel worse, then what’s the point?” You soften your tone in an attempt to bring him back.

“You don’t know what it’s like,” He shakes his head resolutely. You feel your window of opportunity to try and comfort him closing rapidly.

“Ok, you’re right, but I’ve kept up with the news. I know a bit about how my future in-laws have treated you. You’ll be okay here,” You place a hand on his shoulder.

“I think they’ve wanted me to leave for a while, honestly. I’d go somewhere where they don’t have to think about me anymore.” He scratches the back of his neck before focusing on a small tidepool that sat directly below the both of you.

His statement is enough to now squeeze his shoulder, gently rubbing it to show your support.

“I’m sorry.” You offer quietly.

“It’s not your fault. I don’t think being a problem child fits me very well anymore.”

“You can reinvent yourself here if that sounds alright with you?” You offer and he laughs quietly.

He smirks. “I’ll think about it,” His slightly hopeful tone makes you feel at ease.

Any true affection toward him still feels too foreign, but verbal reassurance is a step you’re willing to take if it means your shared future is relatively peaceful.

—

The trips back and forth to each other’s countries were becoming a blur of wedding planning, being present at each other’s public engagements, and trying to get to know each other. It was becoming such a tedious process that any opportunity to rest was taken without hesitation.

The big plan for the current trip to Arinorin was to have a joint dinner with both of your immediate families.

You waited endlessly, but Soonyoung never showed up for dinner. It was embarrassing trying to subtly figure out where he was by going to the bathroom and frantically texting him. When that didn’t work, calls went unanswered until you were forced to give up and return to the table in defeat. He wasn’t answering and you were left to deal with two confused families on your own, attempting to answer questions that you had no answers to. Dinner eventually proceeded with an unyielding amount of attention on you, but thankfully, the rest of his family seemed to accept you.

Yet, it was ultimately embarrassing to attempt to cover his tracks and defend his actions throughout the night.

Thus, your post-dinner plans were to relax in your room and attempt to forget how wild the night had been. A knock on the door interrupted those plans almost immediately.

You open the door to see one of the guards that have been assigned to you since the arranged marriage proceedings had begun.

“Sorry to bother you, princess. I’ve just received word of a disturbance with the prince downstairs that needs your attention.” His tone was especially solemn, so you didn’t want to leave him waiting for long.

“Alright, I’ll be ready in a minute.” You nod at him and thank your lucky stars that you’ve already changed into more comfortable clothing.

With his assistance, you were soon traveling through the endless halls of the castle to find your fiancé. It wasn’t long before he came into view, sitting on a bench with his legs tucked up to his chest, arms wrapped around the front with his hands clasped tight. He was clearly drunk, sighing to himself before looking up.

“Y/N! Hi!” He exclaims, waving at you wildly.

“Fucking hell,” You exhale under your breath. You’re extremely grateful that he wasn’t out wandering the streets, clearly under careful watch by his guards.

“Can you give us a moment?” You look around at the surrounding guards. They nod curtly and dismiss themselves, retreating to a nearby room where they could still intervene quickly if needed.

You turn your attention back to him once the door closes. “Where were you?”

“I was out with Seungkwannie and, um, Seokmin. It was so much fun,” He laughed brightly, eyes almost disappearing from his smile.

“We were supposed to have dinner with our families. Remember?” You hold onto your curt tone.

He shakes his head immediately. “They didn’t wanna see me, they don’t care about me.”

You were starting to lose your patience. While you understood his hesitation to face his family, it wasn’t an excuse to leave you to navigate so many different dynamics on your own. This was supposed to show your families all of the efforts that had been made thus far, and there were plenty of efforts that were beginning to show naturally.

He had become more affectionate in public, it was less uncomfortable to smile at him and speak with each other kindly. It wasn’t real, obviously not, but unsuspecting eyes wouldn’t have known any better.

You were almost visibly in love.

“How about how I feel, Soonyoung? I had to deal with everyone alone, deal with everything by myself. That was so hard for me, but you just ignored it and got drunk.” Your voice was tight, barely allowing yourself to feel anything besides anger.

“I’m sorry,” He sighs before running through his hair. He’s affected by it, as his posture starts to wilt like a dying plant.

“You should be. That hurt my feelings a lot,” You felt the intended venom of your words dissipate on your tongue until nothing was left.

What was the point in yelling when he wouldn’t remember any of it anyways?

Honestly, you were disappointed in him. You had earnestly tried to connect with him, and it finally felt like he was trying to do the same thing. Yet, he let you down. You didn’t ask for much of him and adjusted your expectations for him at every step of the way, but he couldn’t do it.

He couldn’t be better for you.

“Was being selfish,” His pout seems to get deeper somehow.

“Yeah, you were,” You whisper. You finally take a seat next to him on the bench, taking a deep breath. The silence between the two of you almost felt labored, as if the air held all of the emotions you were both feeling at once.

You shouldn’t be babysitting your fiancé like this, that much was true. If he couldn’t even attend a family dinner, what did that mean for the marriage?

“You don’t have to worry about the wedding. I’ll take care of everything,” You mutter quietly.

“What?” He sits up in surprise.

“I can’t trust you, Soonyoung. You don’t care about this and you clearly don’t care about me, so why would I let you plan any part of this?”

“I can try, just let me try,” He pleads quietly. You can feel the desperation in his tone, but you can’t budge.

“I’ve let you try and this is what happens. I don’t know if this is how you picture our marriage, but if this is it then consider us strangers. I can’t do this, not like this.” You can’t look at him as you stand up.

Your body goes into autopilot as you knock on the door where the guards are stationed, letting them out so you can both separate for the night. You gently request for him to be taken home before starting the journey back to your room, wiping away tears that welled up in your eyes without a second thought.

You hear him calling your name, but what point is there in turning around? You didn’t have the energy for drunk pleas and broken promises anymore.

If you couldn’t stop everything and everyone from falling apart, you could at least try to protect yourself from the wreckage.

—

For the first time, Soonyoung hadn’t been able to stop thinking about you.

It never felt good to be ignored by anyone, but getting ignored by you? It had to be a new kind of pain.

Despite his unbothered facade, he didn’t mind your company at all. He quite enjoyed your little quirks, small things that other people probably wouldn’t notice.

In the chaos of your intertwined schedules, there were moments where he’d just look at you to take in your features for himself, and not anyone else.

He loved seeing how peaceful you looked while you slept during flights or the way your cheeks lifted when you smiled. Since he couldn’t have you to himself often, he could hold solace in the smaller moments.

Admittedly, he had been in love with you for a while now, and he could pinpoint the exact moment when he realized it.

He mentioned to you offhandedly that he’d lost a beloved stuffed tiger toy as a kid, but he’d accepted the loss and attempted to move on. He didn’t think you’d remember the anecdote, much less do anything about it.

Yet, you handed him a silver gift bag while on a flight with him.

When he unwrapped the tissue paper to the sight of the exact make of the tiger he had, his heart momentarily stilled in awe.

“I found the original manufacturer and they still make them. The certain model you had is a collector’s item now, so it took a little while to find but it wasn’t impossible.” You explained everything calmly, your hand propped your head up on the armrest of your seat. You lazily smiled at him as he admired it in his hands.

“This is very kind of you, thank you,” He couldn’t help the grin that spread across his face.

His parents hadn’t thought of trying to replace it for him after all these years, and he surely didn’t expect it from you. The gesture is just so romantic, even if you just wanted to write it off as simply a nice thing to do.

He didn’t cry until he was alone after the day’s activities were finished, realizing just how important it was to him. You were so nice, much nicer than he deserved from his future wife given his standoffish behavior.

There was no reason why he couldn’t confess his true feelings to you at this point. The wedding was fast approaching, sooner than he’d like to admit.

Details about the ceremony were quickly ironed out between your shared staff before he could think twice about asking, and you held to your word that he wasn’t allowed to get involved in wedding planning.

He didn’t remember much from the night you found him drunk, but it was clear that wedding planning was off-limits and you were extremely wary of being alone with him. Thus, he had to make his apology meaningful, and he couldn’t wait until after the wedding. He was determined to mend the relationship before you walked down the aisle.

He started by sending you various bouquets, all carefully chosen by him.

That was a kind gesture, right?

He thought so until he saw you throwing one of the bouquets into a dumpster from afar.

All of his apologetic texts to you were swiftly ignored as well, forcing him to switch gears completely. It was clear that you were subtly hinting at an in-person apology, which was daunting but not impossible for him to do.

He hadn’t been back to your apartment since the night of the Youth Summit Ball, a major oversight on his part. Yet, he figured there was no better time than the present to start taking things more seriously.

He held the bouquet of white and red carnations tightly in his hand, fingers playing gently with the paper wrapping as he sat in his car.

He was optimistic that the rain would hold out until he was hopefully let into your apartment. Yet, he ignored the raindrops periodically hitting his raincoat as he walked up the stairs to your brownstone.

The moment he knocked on the door, it was as if the universe decided to fuck him over. The occasional raindrops turned into a full downpour, and he scrambled to figure out what to do with himself. There wasn’t any awning to hide under, so he attempted to conceal the flowers from the rain, unzipping his jacket enough to sit the damp bouquet on his chest before zipping it up again.

It felt like a lifetime before you opened the door, and the sight of you rendered him speechless.

This was the first time in so long that he was facing his fear of resolving the neverending conflicts in his life.

“Hi.” He smiles despite your unreadable expression.

“Hi,” You were confused, rightfully so. After passive-aggressively sending indirect apologies, he decided to skip everything else and just show up.

“Are you busy?”

“No, but I don’t think I have a choice,” You move to the side so that he can enter your apartment. He takes the cue and makes himself comfortable in the living room.

“These are for you.” He hands the flowers to you, and the hesitancy is clear on your face.

“You aren’t giving up on the flowers, are you?” You ask with a judgmental tone. He doesn’t feel completely deterred when you place them on the dining table instead of throwing them out.

“Well, these are your favorite.”

“This doesn’t bail you out, you know.” You give him a knowing look.

He sighs, steadying his breath before speaking. “I know, and you deserve an apology for everything.” When he notices that you're focusing intently on his words, he feels confident about continuing.

“I know that I’ve made you feel isolated, and I’m truly sorry for that. I don’t want you to feel like you’re alone in this, and I want to make this marriage work. You deserve to marry someone who’s willing to admit their mistakes and grow with you. I’m ready to be that person if you want me.” By the time he finishes, he knows that he was completely honest with you. He’s wanted to be upfront with you for so long, but it wouldn’t have been worth it if he didn’t express himself properly.

You let out a contemplative sigh. He could tell that you didn’t want to reject him, it’s as if your face was processing his statement just as swiftly as your brain.

“As much as I appreciate this, I don’t want to be in a loveless marriage.” You said.

He swallows lightly, but he’s still understanding of your perspective. He knew that he had to lay everything out for you before it was too late.

“Who said it was loveless?” He says.

“What?”

The revelation seems to catch you off guard, but it's not surprising to him. Soonyoung is a happy-go-lucky kind of guy, and this kind of confession feels completely out of his emotional range.

“I love you, and I should've told you sooner. I regret not proving that you could trust me, and you have every right to not have any faith in me.” He walks toward you, internally pleading that the lack of distance will help you change your mind.

“I do have the right,” You mutter under your breath with a chuckle. He lifts your chin slightly with his finger, forcing your eyes to meet his again.

“I will prove to you every day for the rest of my life that I love you.” His eyes are completely sincere, showing that he’s willing to provide the romance that you’ve been grasping for. He can tell that you can’t let him in this easily, he has to earn you completely.

“Every day?” You question him.

“Every single day,” He reiterates. He means it too, his mind was already thinking of dozens of ways that he could start making it up to you.

“That’s pretty tempting, honestly.” You tilt your head in curiosity.

“Anything holding you back?”

“I don’t think so. You just can’t keep coming into my apartment soaking wet anymore,” You scrunch your nose at his appearance and gently tousle his hair, earning a giggle from him.

“That wasn’t planned. It was pretty romantic though, right?” He can’t fight the smile that spreads across his face as he asks.

“A little bit. I forgive you, by the way,” You admit.

He exhales and runs a hand through his hair with shaky confidence. He couldn’t be certain of your decision, so the relief he feels at your words is palpable.

“Does that mean I get to see all the spreadsheets about the wedding now?” He knew he was testing his luck by asking, especially because the process had been under lock and key even before restricting his access to wedding-related documents.

“Yeah, it’ll take some stress off my back. It’s giving me headaches just thinking about everything coming together,” You rub your forehead and close your eyes for a moment before looking back at him.

“You’ve been stressed like this and you haven’t told me?” He frowns.

“I was mad at you, so all my other feelings just kept building up. I’m sorry,” You shake your head, immediately covering your face with your hands. He pries them off just as quickly, pressing a kiss to the palm of your hand.

“It’s okay, love. I am more than willing to help you, I promise,” He nods eagerly with a grin.

“Okay. I like that name, you know,” You finally crack a smile and his own smile widens.

“Figured you would.” He’s leaned closer to your face, but there’s enough space to move away in case you reject him. “Can I kiss you?” He asks gently.

“Please,” You whisper.

It’s all he needs to complete the distance between your lips and the feeling of you is almost overwhelmingly beautiful. He’s so lucky at this moment, feeling your hands push his head deeper into the kiss. He was too cautious last time, but now he’ll never take another kiss of yours for granted, not when it feels this good.

He would do anything to make sure you felt loved and cared for, no matter how long it took to earn your full trust.

—

“I just need a moment alone, if that’s alright?” The question comes out a bit shakier than you imagined, but you can’t seem to quiet your nerves. Your wedding day has already taken you on an emotional rollercoaster despite not going down the aisle yet.

As you view yourself in the gown that you meticulously picked out along with the detailed hair and makeup that took hours to complete, nothing looks out of place.

Yet, your heart feels unanchored.

Your relationship with Soonyoung was getting better every day, but it seems like it was all going a little too well. Even though your relationship was transforming from a state of emergency into a promising romance, it was all catching up to you at the moment. Your mutual efforts to improve your relationship had been fruitful, giving you both the confidence to get married without feeling insecure.

You wouldn’t regret it, right? You needed to be certain that you wouldn’t.

“Of course, Princess.” Your head staff member agrees without question before exiting the room along with a few team members who were assisting you for the past few hours.

Your brain can only think of him. The tradition of spending the night before the wedding apart from each other felt more like torture than anything else, as you’ve come to appreciate his comforting presence next to you. In the last few weeks leading up to the wedding, he’s made such a genuine effort to intertwine your lives together that spending time apart felt futile.

A knock on the door breaks you out of your trance. Before you can ask who’s there, Soonyoung’s voice fills the silence.

“Is it a bad time?” His voice makes your heart flutter before you can even look at him.

“You can’t see me before the wedding, it’s bad luck,” You attempt to fight the smile on your face but you don’t allow yourself to look at him.

“Even if my bride has cold feet?” He presses on, his footsteps quietly approaching you.

You turn to reveal yourself to him and his face lights up.

“They’re not cold, they’re lukewarm,” You smile coyly at him. He grabs your hands and scans your body with wondrous eyes, his gaze seeming to land on every detail of the dress before meeting your eyes again.

“You look so,” His voice trails off. You’re sure that you can read his mind, he’s practically grinning from ear to ear. It makes you feel a bit shy, you can feel your cheeks heat up from his complimentary words.

“You’re really inflating my ego here,” You shake your head gently, but the feeling of his hand grazing your cheek pulls your gaze to him. Despite your best efforts, it’s still hard to fight the inner voice that tells you that he doesn’t mean it, that he’s only saying it because it’s something you want to hear.

Yet, his responses are just unflinchingly earnest that it makes you wonder why you ever felt that way in the first place.

“You just look so stunning,” His voice begins to shake before he clears his throat, “I just can’t believe that you’re mine.”

You were certain that you’d never seen that much sincerity in his eyes up until now, but it started to quiet the lingering fears that still sat in the pit of your stomach. He was absolutely smitten with you, to the point where his smile didn’t go away while you were talking to him.

“You can’t cry yet, you have to save it for the cameras.” You chuckle in an effort to push away his tears, but his eyes were still glossy.

“I can’t help it. You’ve worked really hard on all of this and it’s coming together so well,” He sighs with content. Honestly, you needed to hear that it was all worth it, especially from him. Although he’d been offering reassurance more often than not, the sentiment felt different knowing that you were minutes away from getting married.

“I wanna kiss you so badly, but I can’t fuck up my makeup.” You pout. He instinctively places his hands on your shoulders, moving them up and down to make you feel grounded with his touch.

“We can kiss, you know. There are no rules to any of this.” He attempts to get you out of your tradition-focused mindset with a low tone. You do want to indulge him though, considering that this was the first time you'd been alone with him all morning.

“Just go below the mouth.” You nod and he smirks, immediately placing his lips on your jaw to see how you’d react. It pulls a soft moan from your throat, and your reaction encourages him to go down your neck, leaving kisses wherever his lips can find skin. You started to let go of the responsibilities lingering over your head and focus on your fiance’s tongue leaving open-mouth kisses on your cleavage.

He’s practically doing everything but undressing you and his eagerness makes it harder to pull away, but you have to.

“Babe,” You whisper.

“Hmm?”

“Later,” You have to hold onto your resolve or else you’ll give in, and you can’t let your first time be in a dressing room.

“Later?” His eyes perk up like an excited puppy. The implication of the consummation of your marriage feels daring, it will serve as the reward after dealing with the decadent fanfare of the day.

“Yes, later. I promise.” You nod and he somehow looks even happier than before he walked in. He focuses on your lips but leaves a kiss on your cheek instead.

“I’ll see you out there, okay?” He presses one last kiss to your palm before heading towards the door.

“Okay,” You wave him off and watch him disappear with a smile on your face.

It’s clear that you don’t have anything to worry about.

—

“You’re sure that you don’t wanna come in with me?” Soonyoung calls from the pool.

“Yeah,” You nod with a hand placed above your eyes, acting as a sun visor since you couldn’t find a hat to put on.

You were two days into your honeymoon, tucked away at a small island resort that mostly isolated you from the outside world.

The wedding had thankfully gone far better than you could have imagined. He stopped you multiple times throughout the reception to tell you how beautiful it was, how happy he was to be in the moment with you, and how well you planned it all. It was a day that felt sun-soaked, enveloped in a love that was starting to soften and lose the sharp edges that had restrained it before.

Despite all of the kind attention from family and friends throughout the day, it was evened out with the constant presence of staff and castle officials that made it all a bit overwhelming.

Thankfully, the honeymoon began the next day and you’d have to force all responsibilities out of your head for the next week.

“You’re thinking about something, probably too many things,” He assumes correctly.

You scoff and turn away for a moment before facing him again. “You can’t be this good at analyzing me, we’ve only been married for less than a week.”

He laughs before swimming closer to the edge of the pool to meet you. “That’s my job, angel.”

“But you’re right, I am thinking too much about you moving in and all the press stuff we have to do,” You’re rubbing at your temples just thinking about how much effort it’s all going to take.

“Hey, look at me.” He calls out softly. You reluctantly place your hands at your sides, trying to take in his words.

“You’ll have plenty of time to worry about this, but this is the only time you’ll be on your honeymoon. Hopefully,” He shows his teeth and it succeeds in making you laugh. He smiles back at you before continuing.

“So maybe we can swim together if you’d like?” He tries again, knowing you’ll say yes. You take one last sigh and nod.

“Yeah, just give me a second.” You take your coverup off to reveal a solid black bikini he hadn’t seen yet. You discard the coverup on a nearby chair before turning to face him.

He eyes you for a moment before you clear your throat. “Slow down, loverboy, we’re supposed to be swimming!”

“Just admiring how beautiful my wife is, that’s all,” He bites back a smile but ultimately lets it show. You walk down the pool stairs until you’re swimming next to him. He only stares at you for a second before pulling you in for a kiss.

You’re caught off guard, letting out a small squeak when his tongue slides into your mouth but you give in to the feeling soon enough. You let your fingers card through the back of his hair, pushing yourself further into the kiss. You feel his hands wander across your ass and you let out a moan.

“Just wanted me in here so you could fuck me?” You whisper, finally pulling away from the kiss to catch your breath.

“You caught me,” He whispers back and proceeds to kiss down your neck, not hesitating to leave marks that force moans out of your throat.

“For fuck’s sake,” You sigh. You didn’t need to have control right now, you didn’t want it when he was making you feel this good just by kissing you. You thank your lucky stars that the vacation house is somewhat isolated because you can’t pretend to hold back the noises you’re making.

He picks up on this and presses his erection against your thigh, causing you to hold your breath. “Where do you want me, sweetheart?” He asks quietly. Your train of thought can’t even start because he’s staring right at you, brushing his thumb against your lip.

“Chairs,” You mutter. He bites his lip and turns to look at the unoccupied beach chairs lined up near the sliding glass door that leads back into the house.

“Okay,” He nods. He leads you back to the pool stairs before taking your hand and helping you out of the water. You both don’t think about drying off before he sits you down onto the chair, pulling off your bikini bottom without a second thought. You watch him with spread legs, taking in the sight of his glistening chest and abs. He seemed just as eager as you, taking off his swim trunks in the blink of an eye. The sight of his cock makes your head spin, so you force yourself to make eye contact with him.

“Are you okay, baby?” He asks earnestly. He must not know how hot he is because you’re rendered speechless. His freshly dyed black hair is slightly spiky, and it doesn’t help when he runs his hand through it. It all just goes to your clit, and you’re certain that the pressure will make you explode.

“Yeah, I’m good,” You force your mouth into a smile to replace the incredulous look on your face. He nods and settles into the space between your legs, quickly spreading hands across your thighs.

“Have I told you how pretty you look today?” His eyes are practically dripping with lust, but you want to let him know that the feeling is mutual.

“Yeah, maybe for the 100th time today, but you look even prettier,” Your compliment comes out a bit shy, but it still makes his eyes light up.

“I don’t think that’s possible,” He lets his thumb graze your clit and you whimper. He lingers there for a few more moments before dragging two fingers down your entrance. He ponders for a moment before pushing inside, and the new sensation makes you cry out. The angled position of the chair makes his movements feel even more powerful, and his fingers gliding against your tight walls already have you in shambles.

“It’s not possible because you’re the prettiest person in the world, and I get all your cute noises to myself, right?” His question makes the coil in your stomach harder to ignore.

“Yeah,” You moan. He leans in for a kiss, capturing your lips easily while thrusting his fingers even deeper. How does he know your body like this? Sure, you’ve made out a few times but he's never touched you like this before.

Maybe it’s the anticipation that’s causing him to show out like this, he’s trying to impress you because of how long you’ve had to wait for this. You let your arms drape behind his neck for a moment before clutching onto his back.

You hear him moan from the scratches you leave on the expanse of his back, you savor the noises as they start to blend in with your moans.

“Gonna cum,” You breathe into his ear. He can tell how tense you are around him, and your eyes are becoming frantic from the impending pleasure.

“Just relax baby, take a deep breath, and let go for me. I know you can do it,” His encouragement lets you cum immediately, arching your back off the chair with a soft grunt escaping your lips. Your orgasm washes over you all at once and his fingers only slow down a bit, allowing you to feel every single bit of pleasure that he could pull out of you.

You take a few deep breaths and focus on his eyes once again. You start to register his face again as he strokes your cheek. “Are you ok? Are you up for more?” He asks hesitantly.

“Yeah, I just didn’t think you’d get me like this so early, that’s all.” You cover your eyes with your hands for a moment before looking at him again. He has you so shy that you can barely look at him. It’s hard to admit to yourself that you haven’t cum like that in a very long time, but if he’s making you feel like this so early on into the marriage, you don’t think you’ll ever be disappointed.

“Well, that’s good. I just wanna take care of you,” He reassures you sweetly. His eyes are so full of love that it makes your heart pound, swallowing in anticipation.

He meant it when he said he’d take care of you, he had barely let you do anything for yourself since you arrived at the vacation house. It was so adorable that you didn’t have the heart to stop him. It was nice to let him live up to his promise of showing his love for you instead of constantly feeling distrustful of his actions.

Of course, there would eventually be moments where you’d disagree or argue with each other, but it wouldn’t be out of spite like before. You’re lost in thought until he presses a kiss to your cheek.

“Where’d you go, pretty?” He whispers, his face now a few inches away from yours. It somehow makes you even more flustered than before.

“Just thinking about how much I love you,” You admit with a smile. His eyes widen at the confession and you burst into a fit of giggles.

“You love me?” He asks in surprise.

“I love you.” You state it confidently. You mean it too, and it feels so easy to express it to him. You knew you loved him since the wedding, he cried at the sight of you walking down the aisle and it helped you realize his sincerity. He seems to let the words settle into the air before giving you a response.

“I love you too. It feels good to say that,” He laughs at his own confession. With a mutual confession out in the open, the air somehow feels lighter.

“Can I show you how much I love you by fucking you properly?” He asks. You can only laugh and nod your head at how sweet it is.

“Not out here though. I need you in bed right now!” He exclaims, sweeping you up into a bridal style hold. You let out a scream before bursting into laughter, you can only let yourself get carried back into the house without protest.

----

“Fuck, right there, please,” You whimper, eyes screwed shut. The feeling of his cock stuffed inside you was indescribably good, it was nearly enough to make you cry. Once he got you on the bed, he wasted no time filling you up and easily pulled moans out of your throat.

He pressed your legs up to your chest, making sure that he was completely inside of you. You quickly learned that your husband had incredible stamina, and you were definitely gonna cum again sooner rather than later.

“You’re so good for me, my love. You don’t know how many times I’ve thought of having you like this,” He whispers in your ear. The sound of his balls slapping against your skin brought something primal out of you, you just want to suck him inside of your walls even deeper. You were barely holding on, but he kept pushing you even closer to the edge.

He leaned down to leave marks in the crook of your neck, leaving a hand free to fondle your breast. It was as if he combined every possible move just to drive you insane and it was working.

“Gonna cum for me, sweetheart?” His voice is laced with something even deeper than lust, it almost felt demonic the way he asked you.

“Yes, please let me cum, please,” The words spilled out of your mouth, your voice was shaking along with your body. He was practically rocking you back and forth with the impact of his cock, hitting that particular spot deeper every time.

“Go on, then. Cum for daddy,” He grants you permission. The nickname makes you flood his cock, screaming again as your orgasm takes over you. He pulls out in time for you to squirt on his cock, leaving you even more surprised than before.

“Holy shit,” You whimper. He looks so pleased with himself, but also shocked that he was able to push you that far.

He lets you both recover for a few minutes, but you know he hasn’t cum yet. “I’m kinda close, baby, is it alright if I-?” He asks, but you don’t let him finish.

“Of course. I already miss your cock, to be honest,” You let yourself smile and his eyes are already blown wide by your response.

“You’re insane, you know that?”

“You made me like this,” You hit his arm playfully. He slides his cock into you again slowly and he watches your mouth fall open slightly at the sensation.

“I did,” He smirks at you, relishing the sight of how fucked out you look just from him staying still.

He picks up the pace, trying to focus on getting himself there. It didn’t seem like it’d take much just from how intensely he looked at you.

“Gonna let me cum inside you, baby? Should I get you pregnant like this?” His questions felt sinful in your ears, but you were too gone to care. You felt pressure building just from that, and the thought of him breeding you felt exciting.

“Yes, please, I want it,” You whine. He felt so deep that you could feel it from your head to your toes. Every single part of you felt overwhelmed by his cock and his relentless pace.

“Good girl, daddy wants to fuck you like this all the time,” He moves to kiss you sloppily, but it still feels heavenly to have him in your mouth. It wasn’t much longer before you felt his body tense beneath you.

“Are you close?” You ask breathily.

“Yeah,” He grunts. He grabs your hips and fucks into you even harder than you remember, the pain radiating from your thighs forces a tear out of your eye but you know it’s helping. He doesn’t warn you before he cums, and the sudden warmth inside of you makes you moan louder than you expect. He finally falls beside you and lets you both recover for a few minutes in silence. You could easily fall asleep like this, both of you laying haphazardly under the covers while his breathing steadies your own.

“Y/N?” He calls your name and it startles you. You struggle to keep your eyes open at the sound of his voice.

“Oh no, I scared you,” His voice is much quieter than before, lulling you back into a state of calmness.

“No, I’m okay, I promise,” You turn to face him, rubbing your eyes gently.

“Ok good. We’ve gotta clean up now, alright?” He softens the blow of the question by kissing your forehead. It still feels foreign to let him take care of you, but when you see how gentle he is, you don’t feel the urge to take control.

It’s enough to watch him go through your suitcase, observing how his eyebrows furrow while trying to decide what shirt you might want to wear.

You decided that he didn’t have to prove anything else to you, ultimately, you could see how pure his heart was, and it would be doing both of you a disservice to let assumptions of character control the course of your relationship.

You’re attentive enough to follow his cues while he’s dressing you or helping you up to the bathroom, but your mind is consumed by him.

“Doing okay, love?” His question pulls your head toward him. You adjust your posture in bed as he approaches you, climbing into the bed beside you.

“Better now that you’re back,” You hum lowly, leaning your head onto his shoulder. You take a deep breath, taking in the feeling of his skin against yours.

His body vibrates as he chuckles. “I’m glad you’re alright. I was thinking about something while we were in the bathroom,” He leans into your touch slightly, enough to make your eyes flutter shut.

“What’s up?” You accept his inquiry.

“I think we should take the kids here one day when they’re old enough,” He explains it as if it’s fate, and you can’t help but smile at the thought of him being certain that your shared future is meant to expand in so many different ways. You can’t picture yourself being pregnant for a long while, but the idea of building a family with him feels right to think about.

“We’ve fucked once and you’re thinking about our kids,” You tease him in a lighthearted tone, but you hear his nervous laughter.

“It’s just a thought,” He waves his hand gently.

“It’s a very nice thought, you’re really sweet,” You finally raise your head to look at him. You let your hand caress his cheek before kissing him gently. He accepts you immediately, and you let yourself linger on his lips for a few moments before pulling away to look at him.

He searches your eyes, focused on figuring out what you’re meant to tell him. You can’t think of anything profound to tell him, any extravagant sentimentalities you might’ve conjured up don’t make their way out onto your lips.

“I love you,” You whisper. Your feelings are buried too deep to let them all out now, but it’s enough to tell him this. You feel the pressure in your chest lessen the moment he smiles back at you.

“I love you so much,” He mumbles the words against your lips before kissing you, love seemed to radiate from his lips the way he was holding you against him. The day unfolded into the evening, time passing languidly as you were enamored with each other.

As you fell asleep with him holding onto your waist, you realized that sweetness had made its way into your life before your very eyes. The limitless potential between the two of you no longer strikes fear into your heart, but instead sustains you in new ways.

There would be time to flesh out the dynamics of your relationship, determining how you’d show up for each other in loud and unspoken ways, but the present feeling of safety that sat in your chest was enough.

Neither of you was perfect, but the act of showing up and being willing to grow with each other was enough.

You are both trying, and that is more than enough.

---

mio angelo.

it’s no secret to the whole nation how powerful the jeon family was. the efforts of the highly respected don jungsoo was the reason why the name of their clan continues to be a name that people thought greatly of and sometimes even feared. despite your father working alongside with the don, you never truly understood what the family possessed to earn them such acclaim; that is until you got closer to one of his grandsons, jeon jeongguk, that you caught a glimpse of how much power they truly seized as you see it first hand and become a part of it yourself.

pairing: jeongguk x reader

word count: 33.3k (🤠; use the browser when reading to avoid the app from crashing !)

rating: 18+

content: fluff | smut | angst | mafia au | established relationship au | inspired by ‘the godfather’ (so a lot of scenes may have similarities from the novel / movie) + ‘vincenzo’ | ft. lawyer!reader, soon-to-be mafia boss!jeongguk (kinda a spoiler, but kinda not) | this fic is prose heavy !!

warning/s: swearing | mature themes | mentions of smoking, drugs, prostitution, violence, crimes, and murder | explicit sexual content | dirty talk | nipple sucking | creampie | fingering | multiple orgasms | oral (f. + m. receiving) | one mention of breeding kink lmao | praising | begging | choking | riding | cum eating | taking it from behind (lmao idk what it’s called) | overstimulation | unprotected sex (this is fiction okay - be safe irl !)

» related drabble/s: bonus scene #1; bonus scene #2

━ INTRO.

Your father has always been in debt with the Jeon Family; most specifically to their head, Don Jungsoo.

When you grew up and finally had the right amount of curiosity to ask why, Inhwan only smiled and said that the Don helped him in developing the winery—the winery that today stands as one of the most sought out wine companies in the country, slowly expanding to neighboring nations and even across other continents. He said that because of the Don’s generosity with assisting him in starting the business, taking care of matters that involved papers and endorsements and the easy transportation of goods to various well-known distributors, he was able to build a better future for your mother in about five years’ time, right before they were married and naturally, right before you were even born.

He was able to buy a massive house. He was able to raise you in a very comfortable environment, making sure that you grew up to be greatly taken care of; that you never once felt abandoned or alone, that you wouldn’t have to think twice in asking for something in whatever it is that you wanted and needed. Eventually, he was able to send you off to prestigious schools throughout your studies, even enrolled you to some classes that could develop a fundamental hobby such as drawing and playing the violin, taking any kind of measure without hesitation as long as it will assure him that he has truly done everything he can to lead you to a great future.

When you asked why Don Jungsoo offered so much to him despite the both of them not being blood related, he responded by saying “Your grandpa and him go way back. He always says that if it weren’t for your grandpa, he wouldn’t have found the success he has today.”

Hearing him say that, you were eager to meet Don Jungsoo, mostly because you never had the chance to meet your grandfather who passed away just months before you were brought to the world. At the age of twelve years old, while getting home from school that day, you were granted that opportunity as you arrived at the villa and saw an elderly man conversing with your dad in the common room, the both of them in the middle of a warm handshake, kind of like a goodbye.

That’s when you officially first met him, the Godfather, as Inhwan introduced you, promptly apologizing to Don Jungsoo for only doing so at that instance. Don Jungsoo harbored no hard feelings of course, knowing that it was nothing personal and was merely just a loss of opportunity because of the winery that Inhwan had to constantly oversee and the errands he had to do for the Family. Besides, Don Jungsoo already had the chance to meet you at your baptism and at a birthday of one of his grandsons that Inhwan and his wife were invited to, but you were very young back then to even remember it yourself.

As your eyes met that day, Don Jungsoo regarded you with delight almost immediately, fondly commenting that he thought you definitely inherited certain facial features from the father side of the family and that you have grown from a cute baby to a wonderful little girl. You smiled as he did, mumbling a shy thank you before instinctively hiding behind Inhwan’s waist, a gesture that Don Jungsoo chuckled at. It didn’t take long before you politely said goodbye when he once again concluded his meeting with your father because of the short interruption, the two men he brought along with him expressing their farewells to Inhwan too with a squeeze on Inhwan’s shoulder and also a pat on the back.

Even if that day was so long ago and was only a fragment of your childhood memories, you can always still remember that moment as if it just happened not that long ago. That day was indeed remarkable for you, since there stood the man that your dad has been talking about with so much honor and respect; the man that apparently raised your family from the ashes, the man who gave your father the chance to redeem himself, that it shouldn’t be questioned why Inhwan would treat Don Jungsoo in such a way.

You didn’t need a grown-up’s mind to realize that Don Jungsoo was an influential man. He showed it in his speech, his luxurious suit, and the people he seemed to have posing as his guard. He gave off an air of utmost authority, like there was no mistaking that he was a force you didn’t want to be reckoned with, a figure that people didn’t just respect, but also feared—and for most of your life, you only thought that it was because he was filthy and crazy rich. After all, rich people had all the means in the universe that could grant them the power to rule the entire world.

In Don Jungsoo’s case, his clan, the Jeon Family or more publicly known as JSG Group, was known to be the owner of a power company that chose renewable energy as its priority, the said establishment considered as the best across the state and among its competitors. Aside from the financial gain they already acquired with their principal enterprise, they have bought other businesses that stem from different fields—food and restaurant, motor vehicles, and even health care institutions.

They also had a lot of significant contacts, all who were as filthy and crazy rich as they were—were even secured when it came to legal matters because of the people they knew that were distinguished law practitioners; moreover, they had many friends that were involved notably in politics. It was those reasons why Don Jungsoo was named as one of the most powerful men and richest men in Seoul and has contributed so much with the immense accomplishment of your father’s winery as well. From your knowledge, JSG Group was a major shareholder of the wine company and has appointed Inhwan as the CEO to supervise its growing business.

Amidst all of that though, you shouldn’t have been naive enough to think that the winery’s said triumph was only made possible because of the Don’s well-known colossal wealth. You shouldn’t have been too dependent on the explanation that it was because Don Jungsoo was just inherently successful for everything to just go the way he wanted—for everything to fall into place in just a snap of his fingers.

It was only when you got particularly closer to one of his grandsons, Jeon Jeongguk, that you got a glimpse of what the Family precisely ran that made them so acclaimed and worshiped. It was only then did you understand and get to know what goes on behind the scenes that brought the Jeon Family such eminence, and whether your knowledge of it was for the better or for the worst, you didn’t really know.

━ CHAPTER I.

You and Jeongguk have been well acquainted since your youth. You knew him as the Don’s grandchild, the youngest in the eight that he had, and is said to be even affectionately referred to as Don Jungso’s ‘golden boy’ for he truly could do no wrong in his grandfather’s eyes.

To the Don, Jeongguk was shaped and made to be part of the business from the second he was born. Don Jungsoo said this with utmost confidence and pride in every chance he got for Jeongguk held all the qualities that he was expecting to come from an adequate head of their organization in the future. Jeongguk grew up to be a man who honored the Family’s good morals; a man who knew of loyalty, who valued true brotherhood; a man who knew when to use his brain or wield his fist; a man who you could sit down and reason with with the aim of diplomacy; a man who was adept in getting in the good sides of people, even the enemies, with his sweet tongue.

In Don Jungsoo’s three sons, there were always two or three qualities that were missing in his personal criteria for him to applaud them like he applauded his golden boy. His eldest son, Jeongguk’s father, thought too much, hesitated a lot in his choices, always wanted the majority to decide on something before he decided himself; the middle child, has never been interested in taking part of the business and most of the time remained distant with the Family in general, often treating it as nonexistent when got together with the rest of them on holidays and such; and as for the youngest, he was seen as too much of a coward to be relied on in any important mission by the Don, but he was at least dedicated in helping out in the best way he could to not be appreciated still..

As for the Don’s grandchildren, he had six girls and two boys. Since it was never an option by the Don to begin with to inflict the problems of the Family business to any of its women, his six granddaughters were ruled out automatically in his head and he only spoiled them of gifts and of love as his means to let them have a taste of what the business provided. In regards to his grandson aside from Jeongguk, who came from the middle child, the boy was much like his father who didn’t want anything to do with their source of outcome for him to be taken into mind. The Don respected the decision of his middle child and didn’t force him or his son to embrace their living, though he at least expected that they remain close to the family when it came to personal matters.

Jeongguk entered the business at the early age of 15 years old. It wasn’t supposed to be that way, for it was too young and too soon, but it was a time where there was prominent tension between the Four Families of Seoul that Jeongguk’s father convinced himself that would feel more at peace with if he knew that his son at least knew how to use a gun. Of course, the Don wasn’t consented first before Jeongguk was taught to defend himself and Don Jungsoo disapproved of Hanseo’s decision, as he always did, however, there was nothing even he could do to reverse what has already been and instead of acting like things were the way they were, in a poor attempt to save whatever innocence that is still left on the boy’s mind, he permitted Jeongguk to be introduced to their ways and to the Mafia.

Just a year after Jeongguk was brought in, he “made his bones” by being a member of Inhwan’s regime and partaking in an operation that had something to do with confronting a businessman to cave in to what the Don offered. The man was supposed to pick sides, to choose between serving the Jeon Family like he has been for half of his life or the Lee Family who came into the picture and threatened to do expeditions for them, and when the businessman declared that he was now loyal to the latter and detested his association to the Jeon clan, Inhwan permitted Jeongguk to do the honors of assassinating the traitor a few days later, thus, officially acknowledging him as a made man.

For the years that followed, Jeongguk became Inhwan’s right-hand man. It was the Don’s intention to place Jeongguk under Inhwan’s faction rather than Hanseo, for he thought that having Hanseo show his own son the ropes of the business was a little unhealthy given the man’s known wariness for the safety of his only child. So, Jeongguk became closer with Inhwan instead when it came to anything related to the business; the Caporegime he was serving trained him to be better and to be sharper in what he did.

“Jeongguk, you’ve met my daughter before, right? ____?” Inhwan said as he welcomed the grandson of the Don to his home, walking with him to his office supposedly but before they could get to the room, they had to pass through the kitchen where you were preparing yourself a meal.

Jeongguk, now 23 at that time, glanced at you and was able to instantly discern your familiar face. You’ve been a guest at some parties that his family has held in the past, he has heard your name escape past people’s lips multiple times before in casual conversations, but this was perhaps the first time that the both of you were exchanging introductions. He only knew you as Inhwan’s daughter who the Caporegime always mentioned in great esteem for being the top student of your university’s honor list; the only daughter who Inhwan cherished after his wife passed on ten years ago and who typically lived in the campus dormitory since she attended college, hence why he never had the chance to see you so close before (aside from the fact that he has studied overseas for the last four years, of course).

You made eye contact and the second you two did, Jeongguk approached you in courtesy, extending out a hand. “It’s nice to formally meet you.”

You looked at your father then back at Jeongguk, wiping your hand on the towel by the counter and finally shaking his hand. “The pleasure is all mine.”

When Inhwan and Jeongguk arrived at the office, it was obvious that you were still in the young boy’s mind. He never said anything about you again throughout the affairs he had to discuss with Inhwan though, as he thought of it as disrespectful to be straightforward with his attraction towards you to your father, but it was from that day forward that he began visiting your household frequently, even the dormitory you stayed at during weekdays, just to get to know you better, and let you get to know him more too. He was definitely interested in being more than friends, but he wanted things to run naturally and not come out as forced for him to be truly blunt about his feelings.

“I’ve been hearing that you’ve been spending a lot of time with Inhwan’s daughter these past weeks,” Hanseo, Jeongguk’s father, opened up for dinner one night. “You like the girl?”

“Would he spend the majority of his time with her if he didn’t?” His mother, Yeonjin, retorted.

Hanseo remained serious as he spoke again. “If your intentions aren’t good with her, you should drop it, Guk. She’s the daughter of one of our close family friends. It’s not good to go behind Inhwan’s back and steal his child away. If what you’re only looking for is one good night, don’t try finding it with ____.”

Jeongguk laid down his spoon gently. He was slightly offended to be viewed in that kind of light by his Pop, but he was a young man after all, and young men certainly didn’t go for serious relationships these days. “Should I ask Inhwan first before I pursue anything serious with ____ then?”

His parents shared a look; Hanseo snorted even in amazement while Yeonjin remained smiling.

“Are your intentions good with ____?” Hanseo repeated.

“I like her,” Jeongguk said. “She’s interesting, and she’s kind, and she’s beautiful, and most importantly, she gets me. We can talk for hours and I wouldn’t know because time doesn’t move as fast when I’m with her.”

Hanseo continued staring at him, analyzing him, trying to guess if he was being honest with what he just said. After what seemed like a minute of scrutinizing Jeongguk, he shrugged as if it was suddenly not a big deal. “I’ll talk to Inhwan, get him to agree in setting you up with his daughter,” Hanseo assured him.

“I can do that myself. I’ll talk to Inhwan.”

“You want to talk to Inhwan yourself?”

“Yes. I want to assure him that I’m serious with what I want with ____.”

“In that degree, we might as well just arrange the both of you two wed.”

“No, no,” Jeongguk shook his head immediately, “I don’t want it to be forced. I don’t want to rush things. I just want to know that it’s okay and my personal interests won’t affect the Family.”

The following day, Hanseo still talked to Inhwan about Jeongguk’s attraction to you as a heads up. Inhwan just chuckled, admittedly fond with Jeongguk to think of it as a bad idea, nodded, and said that as long as Jeongguk won’t do anything that would harm you or disrespect you on purpose, then he was going to be on board with whatever relationship Jeongguk was going to have with indeed his only daughter; his permission was the least of what he could give considering that Jeongguk was the Godfather’s grandson. Besides, he really wasn’t a stranger to Jeongguk at this point; he practically raised him along with the others with Inhwan’s significant role in the Family business to perceive him as not a good fit for you.

On the Friday of that very week, Jeongguk went to the campus grounds of your university. He waited outside the building where he knew you would be taking your last class, leaning against the hood of his lavish Maranello with his arms crossed and his sunglasses on the bridge of his nose. Passersby ogled at him; murmured about his vehicle, some even took sneaky snapshots to send to their friends about how there was such a car in the premises. Even Jeongguk himself was well talked about by the students, with his right arm covered with elegant yet intimidating tattoos, the striking manner in which he stood and leaned there, and the fact that he was wearing this orangish yellow short-sleeved Fendi button down and was pulling it off despite how its color and style contradicted to the dangerous aura he was giving.

When you got out of the building, still conversing with a classmate, it took you a few more seconds to notice him; if it weren’t for a distant voice of another classmate saying how there was a ‘literal world treasure’ before his eyes, you wouldn’t have curiously looked forward and saw Jeongguk there, already staring at you, head tilted to the side while he indulged himself in the beauty of your appearance. As you regarded his presence with a smile, he lifted his sunglasses, pushing it past his forehead and over his hair, and flashed a smirk at you.

“Who’s that hot piece of ass?” Your friend, with her jaw slightly hanging down, blatantly asked. “Do you know him?”

“He’s a family friend.”

“A family friend?”

“A good family friend.” You grinned all knowingly. “I’ll see you next week.”

You skipped down the stairs without giving your friend a chance to interrogate you further and stopped right in front of Jeongguk who met you halfway. He had a handsome grin on his face and upon your arrival, automatically reached out to get your bag for you, a gesture that you stopped from happening by swaying your tote bag and books to the other side of where he was reaching for.

“Are you just going to act like you coming here is a thing we planned?” you asked with a chuckle.

The grin hasn’t left his mouth, only transforming into a playful one. “Sorry. I’ve always been under the impression that on one of these days, you want me to whisk you away before you get home and take you somewhere far.”

“Ah, of course, you have read my mind and obtained one of my deepest desires. Though I’m assuming this far place we’re pertaining to is the beach? What’s with this polo?” You couldn’t help but tease, even touching the hem to straighten it for a second.

Jeongguk remained looking at you, shamelessly ignoring your teasing. “Pop already talked with your Dad. And I already talked with him too.”

“Talked about what?” You were still examining the print of his top.

“About us.”

That had you flickering your gaze up to meet his, your delight not being concealed as the ends of your lips twitched. “What about us?”

Jeongguk rolled his eyes. “Come on, don’t pretend that you don’t know what this thing is between us.”

“I’m not following, Guk.” The mischief in your gaze said otherwise and he chuckled, shaking his head, successfully getting your belongings this time when he reached for it. “What is this thing between us? All I know is that we’re great family friends and that—”

“Go out with me,” he cut you off, not letting you go longer with your act, “go out with me and let me show you a good time. More than great family friends tonight. What do you say?”

“Tonight?” You at least looked pleased and willing. “I might have to ask my father first.”

“I told you, I already asked him.”

“Even with what you want to do tonight?”

“All I want to do tonight is to take you out on a date. Just putting it out there just so we’re clear.”

You chuckled, nodding. “Yeah, crystal clear.”

“All I need is your yes, ____,” he added. “Won’t you give me that yes?”

He knew he was going to get what he wanted either way in how you smiled, how your cheeks blushed, and how you were abruptly getting fidgety, a thing you did that he noticed would only showcase itself whenever you were giddy or nervous. Nonetheless, the rush of serotonin didn’t stop you from teasing him again when you gave your answer. “I would, but I’m not exactly dressed in an attire that matches yours. I mean, I don’t even know if I have something that’s as flashy as that in my closet.”

“You’re really amused with what I’m wearing, aren’t you?”

“I just have never seen you in anything other than black or any other dark color.” You snorted. “But I like it. You look good. Very suave, still.”

“You really think that?”

“Yeah, I’m serious. You look very handsome.”

Jeongguk had noticed too that you were not one to shy away from speaking your thoughts out. It was another trait he liked about you. “Alright, now that we’ve gotten that out of the way, come on—” he laughed when you did— “get in the car and I’ll drive you home first so that you can change.”

You nodded, eagerly heading to the passenger’s side, Jeongguk doing the same. “Where will you take me after that?”

“To the beach. Like you said.”

You laughed louder at that. “Sounds amazing.”

He opened the door for you and pushed it closed once you were settled inside.

Jeongguk did take you to the beach that afternoon. It was counted as your first date. You laid in the sand with him, the both of you talking about your day and other things that came to mind. You ate some cheap good food at the near convenience store, an occurrence that Jeongguk almost stopped from happening since he wanted to take you somewhere nicer for dinner, but you refused and insisted that you didn’t want anything heavy or expensive for that matter; you just wanted to be with him and act like teenage couples that couldn’t get rid of the too-happy smiles on their faces while they spent the day with their lover. Of course, you didn’t tell him the last part verbally, didn’t tell him directly yet that you wanted him to see you as a lover, but Jeongguk got the message and exactly went along with what you secretly hoped for.

By the time the sun was nowhere to be seen and the night had fallen, he told you that you two should probably get going home. The ride back was approximately 30 minutes long and he didn’t want to abuse the trust that Inhwan granted him by keeping you up too late and until the last minute for the first date. Thankfully, you agreed without a fuss, and for the whole time he drove you back to the villa, your hand was intertwined with his, laid on your thigh that was closer to the gearstick so he wouldn’t have trouble switching gears and holding your hand at the same time. He had to pretend that he wasn’t too happy with the show of affection you were sharing with him, but there was no mistaking from his expression throughout the drive that he was thrilled.

“Thank you for today, Guk,” you said as he stopped in front of your home, pushing the button that unlatched the seatbelt. “I had fun.”

“Thank God.” He laughed and so did you. You gazed at each other for a while before he squeezed your hand and let go, about to unfasten his seatbelt. “Let me walk you to the front door.”

“That won’t be needed.” You held his bicep to stop him, a successful tactic. “Dad’s probably home already and I know you say that he’s okay with us doing this but I still prefer if he wouldn’t see what I’m going to do.”

He knitted his eyebrows together, close to asking what you meant but you had already launched yourself towards him and kissed his mouth, catching him completely off guard. “Good night,” you said then, grinning, though your attempt to get out of the vehicle urgently after you said that failed to do a dramatic exit as Jeongguk gently pulled you back with a gentle hold on your wrist to kiss you again, this time in a fuller and proper way.

His calloused palm landed on your cheek, another on your neck, and when he leaned away in what seemed like hours of your lips on the other, your tongues clashing at one or multiple points in fervor—it was only so he could do the boyish gesture of smirking at you, kissing you again instantly afterwards, a soft groan rumbling in his throat while he kept you a bit longer in his car than he planned. That night marked the beginning of your budding relationship with him.

It also marked the moment when he realized that it was your nerve and determination that Jeongguk truly loved the best when it came to you. However, it wasn’t going to be for another few years that he would soon discover that just like everything in the world, your nerve and determination had limitations of its own, that there were going to be occasions wherein you would back out and play it safe—and he was willing to fill that portion of cowardice you possessed with the courage he was born with and worked hard for in his bones.

━ CHAPTER II.

Growing up, Inhwan never pressured you with the possibility that you’d have to take over the winery once you were old enough. Instead, he insisted that you follow your own dreams and he will be here, always right behind you, supporting you in any way that he could to make sure that dream of yours would come true.

Truth be told, it was never his intention to build the wine company in hopes that it could be a permanent business for his children and grandchildren—at least not at first when Don Jungsoo proposed the idea to him. The Don only told Inhwan that he should think of another venture that the Jeon Family can go into, a venture that would serve as another front for the real Family business, and in return for his efforts to build this future company and act as its CEO for the following years to come, he would be granted most of its earnings, since being so would not cause an issue with the Family due to his record of loyalty, which Inhwan felt very grateful for.

At Inhwan’s motivation, you decided to go towards the path of being an accomplished lawyer. Of course, that would take more years of studying and more years of general sleepless nights and frustration until you probably would have to wish death to fall upon you later on. But you were determined to prove yourself out there and do something that your heart genuinely longed for, not caring how long it would take and how much you would have to endure just to be at the top of your game. Inhwan, like promised, was more than willing to provide you with everything necessary for a bright road heading to your dream.

Inhwan knew you were an intelligent woman. The fact slapped him in the face every time you talked and made comments about the news or the wine company, speaking your mind out even at times no one frankly asked for your thoughts. You weren’t only smart because you knew how to memorize the texts on your school books—you were a true intellectual. He knew that and knew that he didn’t need to ask the Godfather to call important contacts to be guaranteed that you will get into the finest law school in Seoul once you were a few months away from finishing your undergraduate studies—but he still did, just to double-check, just to feel at ease that he won’t have to answer to his daughter’s disappointment when you discover that you didn’t get in.

You still got in though, thank goodness, without any of the Family’s special friends pulling some strings for him, earning it fair and square. The next thing you know, you have already spent four years in law school and have graduated, eventually passing the bar exam, your name printed as one of the top scorers. Once again, Inhwan was grateful that he didn’t have to contact anyone, knowing that if you discovered what he did, you would take it as more of an insult than a favor since more than anyone, it was supposed to be Inhwan who trusted your ability to pass on your own.

In celebration for yet another impressive feat of yours, he hosted a big get-together in the villa, inviting the Family and other people to share the momentous occasion with the both of you. Inhwan, though positive that the Don has not changed his mind in including women openly in the business, knew that the Godfather would find your obvious achievement beneficial to the Family, so he made sure to give highlight to your passing (even if it was just the start) as much as he could. You’ve been dating the Don’s grandson for four years now after all; it was only natural for Inhwan to always want to bring you into a better light and deem you as indeed worthy.

“Guk,” you breathlessly chuckled, your boyfriend’s tongue swiping against your skin, “they’re going to notice we’ve gone missing.”

Jeongguk pulled away from your neck, the skin of your throat littered with red marks that you’d have to cover up by changing into a turtle neck after the both of you were done. “So what? They’ll just understand that I’m just giving my smart girl her present.”

“And what is your present?” You couldn’t help but release a small moan when he lapped his tongue once more on your flesh and pressed himself against you deliciously harder on the mattress. “Your dick?”

“What? You don’t want it?” He snickered.

“You can’t be serious.”

“I have a greater gift other than my manhood, angel.” He leaned back fully, a handsome grin on his features, his arms supporting half of his weight as he hovered you. “Do you wanna see it?”

“Your manhood? Well, we both know it’s not something I haven’t seen before—”

“No,” he rolled his eyes, snatching a long kiss on your mouth for your silliness, “my gift. What I bought for you.”

You raised your eyebrows. “You really brought something for me?”

“Of course.” Another kiss, now on your forehead, and he stood up.

He went to your dresser, took the small paper bag that you didn’t even notice the first time around for you were too preoccupied with Jeongguk’s lips to mind anything else, and sat down on the spot he was in just seconds ago to officially present it to you. You watched in anticipation as he brought a black box out, your eyes widening impulsively at what it possibly meant and what it had inside though before you could speak, Jeongguk beat you to it. “I’m not proposing. In case you were thinking about that,” he said, placing the paper bag he didn’t need anymore on the floor.

You released a huff of relief. “I would have said no anyways.”

He flashed his eyes on you, hurt. “Really?”

“You’re not proposing, right?”

“Yeah, but it’d be nice to know that if I was, you would have said yes regardless.”

“I would have, but just not at this moment. Wouldn’t want being engaged to you steal the limelight of my accomplishment.”

He snorted. “Can’t say you’re wrong. It’d be a nationwide phenomenon.”

“Sometimes, you can go too far over the top of your head, sweetheart.” You gently held his chin to drag his face closer so you could plant a kiss on his mouth.

Jeongguk smirked and opened the velvet box. There inside lay a thin gold chain necklace with five diamonds, the five of them glittering and placed tightly next to each other in the middle. You unconsciously held your breath at its gorgeousness, your interest in jewelry not being hidden at that instant, for you can’t deny that as you got older, your love for shiny things increased too, but then you thought about how this must have cost a fortune—not that it would be any problem to Jeongguk if it had—that a frown came to your face the next instant.

“Jeongguk…”

“I didn’t spend that much on it,” he defended immediately, aware that you would open the topic of how much was this. “This didn’t put me close to bankruptcy or something.”

“Huh, that’s not at all a very guilty thing to say, Guk.”

He chuckled at the sarcasm. “Well, okay—you can’t expect me not to go all out sometimes. You deserve gifts like this.”

“Do I really?”

“Of course, you do, angel.” He took the necklace from its box. “Turn around for me. Let me put it on you and let’s see what it looks like.”

You obliged, scooting towards him and spinning around to let your back face him. You swept your hair to the other side and lifted it up, Jeongguk swinging his arms over you and laying the necklace flat against your skin, the five diamonds just by your collar. The cold sensation of the chain made goosebumps rise on your nape; Jeongguk locked it in place and lightly pulled the diamonds lower to fix it on your neck.

He kissed your shoulder sweetly when he was done. “Okay, let’s see it.”

You both stood up, trudging to the full length mirror you had in your room. As you stood before it, you could clearly see the diamonds gleaming with enthusiasm; you’re already sure that no one would miss it when you go outside and greet some guests again. You know they would automatically think that it was Jeongguk who gave you such an exquisite present, considering that even though your father would not hesitate to give you expensive jewelry like this one, Inhwan didn’t exactly have the same good taste as your boyfriend to have the necklace mistaken as his gift.

“Looks like it was made for you,” Jeongguk commented with a proud smile, kissing the same spot on your shoulder. “Do you like it?”

“I love it.”

He chuckled, encircling his arms around your waist, still placing sweet kisses on your skin.

“How much is this?” You still couldn’t help but ask.

He shook his head. “No, no, this is a gift, I won’t tell you how much it costs.”

“Just give me an estimate, Guk.”

“It’s as grand as my love for you.”

You scoffed. “I’ll be offended if I discover that this isn’t as expensive in my head.”

He laughed. “I assure you it’s worth a lot. When have I ever given you anything that didn’t match your significance to me?”

“That’s your flaw, really. You spend too much.”

“I don’t mind.” He nuzzled his face on your neck. “Not if it’s for you.”

You turned around and embraced his torso, smiling, touched and swooned by his words as he always had the ability to do. You pushed yourself upwards with your toes, properly kissing him on the lips and Jeongguk reciprocated the gesture with a content smile, his hand on your hip tightening.

“Thank you,” you murmured. “I appreciate it, you know I do. But next time, how about you give me something that isn’t too glorious, alright?”

“No promises.”

You narrowed your eyes on him, a complaint bubbling inside you though just as you were about to say it out loud, Jeongguk was quick enough to prevent your actions by capturing your mouth again with his, humming in a teasing manner as he slowly led you back to the bed.

Three knocks on your door interrupted the moment, the two of you freezing at the sound. “Guk? Are you in there?” A familiar voice was heard from the other side of the door.

“No, he isn’t,” you promptly lied.

“____, I can sense that you’re holding him captive even from miles away.” He chuckled.

You sighed and untangled yourself from Jeongguk, opening the door.

There outside at the hall stood Seokjin, the adoptive brother of Jeongguk who was also a good friend of yours and an already valued lawyer himself. He was five years older than him and six years older than you, and being someone who always treated you like a little sister of his own, especially when you started to date Jeongguk, he was always kind to remind you since your law school days that if ever you needed anyone’s guidance about your shared field, he was there and was only one call away. You told him you were certainly going to take him up for that someday when you indeed needed his help, very comfortable with him to possibly open the topic in the future.

Seokjin glanced at Jeongguk. “Your grandpop wants to talk to you.”

“What is it about?” Jeongguk was smoothing his hair.

“Business, as usual.” Seokjin looked at you next. “Sorry for stealing him away—and in the middle of your party too. But it’s important.”

“No worries, I understand. Besides, Dad might not be too thrilled if he caught us in here before you have. We were just going to join the others again anyway.”

“Ah, yes, remember to keep yourself pure before marriage, ____. Saving yourself for your wedding night is definitely still the trend with the old folks.” Seokjin grinned.

“A possible yet at the same time impossible task,” you further joked.

“I’ll see you again later, okay?” Jeongguk appeared beside you to head to the door, pecking your cheek and glancing at his brother. “Jin, look at what I’ve bought, isn’t it beautiful?” He pointed at the necklace you wore.

Seokjin turned his eyes on it like asked and pursed his lips in approval, staring at it with an amused expression, nodding. “Gorgeous. You wear it well, ____. Of course, that is if we’re talking about the diamond necklace and not the forming hickeys.”

Your face burned; you tried to look nonchalant to preserve what’s left of your dignity, moving your hair then to the front to conceal the love bites. “Well, both were given by this clever guy right here.” You glared at Jeongguk who was staring at your neck now with an even prouder gaze. You hit him on the stomach because of it.

“That doesn’t come as a surprise.” Seokjin snorted and patted Jeongguk’s back as the young man stepped out. “We’ll catch up with you again after we’re done. I won’t keep him for too long.”

“No, it’s really alright. Settle what needs to be settled. In fact, don’t bother to return him if it’s that important.”

Seokjin laughed, pushing Jeongguk away before the latter could snap something back. “Noted. Congratulations again, princess. I look forward to seeing you in court one day.”

“Thanks, Jin. Hopefully not against each other though.” You smirked.

He chuckled and strided forward with an arm around Jeongguk’s shoulders, leading him to the direction where your father’s office was located.

You’ve been informed that the Jeon Family has been talking about matters concerning the winery. The Don, being the Chairman of the board, was discussing affairs with Inhwan that you weren’t really aware of for your father never liked sharing them with you.

It was odd in your opinion, to still be kept under the light about anything that involved the wine company, for you’ve had the impression that once you grew up and has made it apparent that you could be a good help to the business despite your choice of profession not entirely centered around it, he would be more open to letting you in the scoop. Instead, you still had to mostly hear news about what he planned for it through hints from Jeongguk or other employees. Whenever you’d ask Inhwan yourself if there was anything you could do for the business, he would only squeeze your shoulders as he hugged you from the side, assuring you that you didn’t have to worry about anything, and that he could manage on his own and with the help of the Don just fine.

You let it slide but you were always salty about his secrecy deep down as you even reckon that Seokjin was more involved with it than you were. You’ve eavesdropped once in a conversation shared by your father and his friends at the patio of your villa that Seokjin was practicing his law degree exclusively for the Don (you’ve taken it as he was a part of the lawyers representing JSG Group), meaning he probably took care of anything related to the legalities of the winery too.

In a part of your mind, you didn’t get why Seokjin wouldn’t want to kick start his career first by gaining experience and taking a lot of various cases first rather than working for one big client after graduation. You knew the Don probably could offer him a sum that no client could ever give him, but in regards to the practice of law itself, you weren’t so sure. It seemed to be working out for Seokjin regardless though; he has always been sharp-witted and sensible anyways to not make the right decision.

Eventually, you’d have the opportunity of knowing exactly how sharp-witted and sensible Seokjin can be; you’d be far astonished to the point of actually beginning to deem him as a better lawyer than you were yourself, because unlike you, Seokjin had a certain quality within him that made him the perfect legal adviser.

━ CHAPTER III.

Jeongguk, since the day he became a made man, was always reminded that everything that revolved around the Mafia was strictly business. The transactions, the meetings, the negotiations, and even the violence that may come along with it if diplomacy was not the effective way to go was part of the whole ordeal. He had to instill in his head from the very start that nothing from their world should be taken personally—even if a member gets hurt because of another Family or a mafioso becomes a traitor to their organization. Everything was still going to be considered as business or done for the sake of business; nothing should ever be taken personally or with the aim to hurt the mafioso’s personal life.

That was one of the reasons why the Cosa Nostra was still seen as an honorable society despite the dangers and the various dirty businesses it carried out. Even though their people were comprised of crooks, thieves, murderers, and other nouns to describe generally bad people, they still had a set of morals of their own that they religiously kept within themselves and followed. However, there were flaws and loopholes to those ethics they observed, and the thin line that separated business matters and personal matters was something they overstepped at times in being too inflamed with their innate greediness.

“Are you sure it just happened? No one attacked my father?” Hanseo frustratingly asked through the phone. “How about that guy? Jang Yeocheol? He was obviously more than displeased when the Don refused to fund his plan for that wack of a narcotic casino. He didn’t do anything about it?”

Jeongguk waited patiently in the single leather chair inside the office. One thing he was sure of is not to rush and ask questions when Hanseo was asking them to someone else and was obviously agitated over the line. The person he was talking to was the Don’s bodyguard, the person who was in charge of driving him in and out of the office and to any other errands he wanted to go; his name was Yoongi and from Jeongguk’s knowledge, he was also one of Inhwan’s most trusted men, a guy he considered as his right-hand man since Jeongguk formed his own regime.

“Okay. I’m sending men there for backup. No doubt the news is already out about the Don’s condition.” Hanseo ended the call and glanced at Jeongguk.

“What happened to Grandpop?” he put forward.

“Stroke. Just fell in his office chair and his secretary found him there. Don’t worry, he’s okay, he was spotted early on and the doctor in charge of him is Dr. Hwang. I’m sure he’ll be doing anything to make sure the old man’s okay. You know him, don’t you?”

“Yeah.” Jeongguk nodded. “He owes Grandpop a lot of favors. Should I do something? Should I go to the hospital too?”

“No, no, I don’t want you going there until I’m sure there really isn’t foul play involved. I know it’s not unlikely for Pop to suffer from something like that, the man’s not getting younger after all, but it’s still better to be sure. I’m going to have them review the CCTVs at the office; I’ll ask a guy I know to look through the phone calls of anyone close to the Don recently. Especially Yoongi—just for a safety measure, I don’t think that kid has it in him to betray us if that was the case.” Hanseo dialled another number on his phone.

Jeongguk took out his phone as well, the other one he used for the business. “Don’t you want me to call anyone too? The other Three Families might be jumping on this opportunity to put us in the bad light; for sure they’ll have the people think that his condition is worse than it already is.”

“I already have Seokjin working on that. He’ll be talking to the director at HSN News to make sure nothing leaks or at least nothing makes a big deal out of it. Why don’t you just go ahead and talk to your uncles? Ask them where they are and how they’re doing.”

“Really? That’s all you want me to do?”

“Yes, Guk, just go ahead and do it for me.” Hanseo made a hand movement that meant ‘go do it’ as he said his greetings to the person who just answered his call.

Jeongguk started calling his two other uncles at his father’s request; the second eldest, though having never shown his obvious affection for their Family, was panicked when he got Jeongguk’s call, quickly asking if the Don was alright. Jeongguk assured him that everything was okay and that they were handling it here in the headquarters, a.k.a. the home of Don Jungsoo itself, efficiently. His uncle murmured his praises of thanks to the heavens and promised that he’ll be travelling as fast as he could back to Seoul, in which Jeongguk immediately said that the best thing that he could do there is wait for a while until they confirm that matters are truly fine; once all of that is done, Jeongguk will ask Inhwan to send a couple of men over to his uncle so that his travel can be arranged, a preposition that the second eldest son of Don Jungsoo agreed without further complaint.

For the youngest of his two uncles, the Family scaredy-cat as Hanseo liked to tease his brother for, already knew what was happening when he answered the call. It was obvious that he was shaken but was gratefully getting his shit together as he told Jeongguk that he’s already digging into it too. This uncle of his talked about how even though the Don was already in his late 70s, he still believed that his father would not fall into sickness like that, a statement that Jeongguk had to disagree to since it was him who had to see the Don every single day and see him act more like his age the more time passed by, but he chose not to say anything for the sake of his uncle who still thought of the Don so highly that even natural causes just didn’t seem plausible for him.

After Jeongguk was done making that last call, he was about to go back to the office and update himself with the next course of actions that Hanseo must already be devising when he saw your Caller’s ID flash on his screen and he figured you must have heard the news too. He answered quickly, hearing your concerned tone over the line right as he pressed the phone again against his ear.

“Hey, Guk, is he alright?” you asked, your sweet voice entering his ears that he unconsciously relaxes, not noticing that for the past thirty minutes or so of talking with his uncles and going over with what he knew so far, he has been tense and sweating through his palms.

“Yeah, he is. They’re still checking on him though but he’s fine.”

“That’s great to hear. I was surprised when I saw the article online. Do you know that they already wrote something about Don Jungsoo?”

Jeongguk closed his eyes in exasperation. “Now I do.”

“It’s horrible. I mean, I understand that they may think that the news would downplay the company but why would they go as far as reporting a personal matter like that so quickly. It’s practically inhumane.”

“Yeah,” Jeongguk sighed, agreeing despite knowing the precise answer to your wonder—that the news of the Don’s illness would bring definitely confidence in the other Families, that others would assume that the Jeon clan wouldn’t be as powerful as they were without Don Jungsoo, given that the majority of the important contacts they had were acquired thanks to their loyalty to Don Jungsoo.

A short pause. “How about you, sweetheart?” you asked. “How are you holding up?”

He shrugged even if you couldn’t see it. It was the first time someone asked how he was doing after the whirlwind of events. “I don’t know. I’d say I’m okay but I don’t know. I don’t feel good.”

“You must be feeling bad, I’m sorry for asking a stupid question. Your grandfather is in the hospital for god’s sake—it wouldn’t be unusual for you to feel that way. Should we visit him where he’s admitted later when I’m done here? Or you can go ahead and I’ll follow.”

“Sure, just right after I check in with Pop. I’ll pick you up and we’ll go there together.”

“Okay, whatever you say.”

“Thanks for asking how I am, angel.” He sighed, a small smile appearing on his features. He hated it when you downplayed your thoughtfulness by claiming it was stupid; he didn’t want you to think that he didn’t think it was sweet or touching. “I needed to hear your voice after the news. It’s a nice reliever, you know?”

“He’ll be fine, Guk.” You assured him. “The Don’s a strong man—a good man too. He’ll be okay.”

Jeongguk nodded. “Yeah, of course. He’ll be fine.” A thought jumped in his mind abruptly. “How’s your day, by the way? Have you talked with your dad?”

“Yeah, he called. He said he’ll be sending a chauffeur for me—for what reason, I don’t know what; he said that he just wanted me to get home safely. I declined though, I told him I wanted to talk to you first. Does this have to do anything with the Don?”

There were these moments wherein Jeongguk was positive that you knew much more than what you let on. He never would think you were stupid to not get what the Family really did after all these years of your father being a caporegime and your romantic relationship with him who plays an important role in the business; it’s just that a lot of people typically only assumed that the Don’s power and wealth all rooted from the power company and the other ventures the Jeon Family pursued, that it wouldn’t surprise Jeongguk if that’s what you only thought of as well. However, there were always said times like these in which you’d give him a flicker of awareness that he’d also always find himself second guessing.

Before he could have answered, Seokjin, who had slipped inside the office with Inhwan earlier while Jeongguk was conversing with his uncles, peeked outside at the hallway and looked at him. “Your pop’s asking you to pack it up quickly. You still talking with the two?”

“No. This is already ____ I’m talking with.”

“Hurry up, kid.”

Jeongguk hated it when Seokjin called him ‘kid’, even if it was used in a context of brotherly affection. He watched as the acting Consigliere disappeared inside the office again; he focused his attention back to you, still on the line and waiting. “I have to go,” he said, not bothering to pick up where the conversation was on. “They’re asking for me.”

“Yeah, I heard.”

“I’ll text you if I get the go signal, alright? Don’t go anywhere and just stay in the firm. I’ll fetch you myself when I finish talking to them.”

“Is it really that bad for all of you to behave this way?” Your tone was joking, light, but he knew that it was a serious question.

“No, no, it’s just a precaution. I think you’re already aware that Grandpop has a lot of enemies, don’t you?”

“I know. I just don’t know why you’d have to be careful with me too.”

Everything in the Mafia was business, nothing should ever be personal; alongside that, the Families mostly kept their words in never hurting women or children. “Just a precaution,” Jeongguk repeated. “I want—and I’m sure Inhwan wants as well—for you to be safe,” he explained.

You didn’t push it. “Okay then. I’ll be here and I won’t go anywhere unless it’s you who’s taking me.”

“Good. I’ll see you later.”

“See you.”

Jeongguk got the memo four hours later that the men that Hanseo hired to investigate the Don’s case concluded that there was no foul play involved and that the stroke the Don experienced was merely a normal occurrence because of his old age. Hanseo and the others expected it already, for since the last weeks, there have been instances in which the Don’s speech would be incomprehensible, a usual symptom for the illness. However, every time they raised the concern to the Godfather, insisting that he should go and see a doctor, even going as far as bringing the doctor themselves in the headquarters, the old man dismissed every single one of their attempts and said that he was doing well.

“We still need to secure the hospital though,” Jeongguk added after. “A lot would take advantage of Grandpop’s state. They’d want to use the excuse of his body failing on its own when they succeed in doing whatever bullshit they’d come up with in trying to get rid of him.”

“That won’t be a problem. We’ve got soldatos there from Inhwan’s regime and Seokjin already talked to the Chief of the Seoul Police Department to make sure it’s handled properly there at the hospital,” Hanseo said. “I’d ask you to send more from your regime, Guk, but let’s not draw too much attention.”

“I agree,” he nodded. “Can I go there now then? I’d like to visit him, see how he’s doing personally,” Jeongguk asked.

“Sure.” Hanseo nodded with a sigh. “Your grandma is already there so look after her too, she must be in shock as well. She always scolded him with the smoking and the drinking all these years that I bet it’s what she’s going to nag about once Pop gains consciousness. Plus, from now on, I’d like it if someone who’s actually part of the Family to be beside Pop’s bed all the time.”

“Okay.” Jeongguk looked at Inhwan. “I’m picking ____ at the firm. I’m going to be bringing her to the hospital too. Is that okay?”

Inhwan always appreciated Jeongguk’s respect for him whenever it came to you. Jeongguk never once made it look like he was unworthy of Inhwan’s trust since the both of you started going out by blatantly using his title as the Don’s grandson to do what he wanted. “You do that,” Inhwan urged.

“When do you plan on proposing to her?” Hanseo suddenly brought up while Jeongguk was heading to the door. “It’s been what? Five years? When are you going to tie the knot?”

Jeongguk glanced at Inhwan the same time Seokjin did, the Consigliere hiding the amused smirk that was beginning to show with a glass of scotch being raised to his lips. “Are you seriously going to bring that up right now, Pop? In front of Inhwan?”

“Oh, don’t mind me,” Inhwan looked teasing, “you know you already have my vote, Guk.”

“I appreciate that but I don’t plan on proposing yet,” Jeongguk said.

“How come? What are you waiting for? ____ already graduated, she’s already doing well in her job. The both of you can start trying to make a family. It won’t be easy to do that in the future, I’m just saying. We’re looking at the worst case scenario here, and you know that if anything happens to Pop, you’ll be my underboss.”

“Not yet,” Jeongguk only reiterated. “And Grandpop’s going to be fine. There’s no need for me to rush into these things.”

“Jeongguk,” it’s Seokjin who spoke next, “you do know that when the Don wakes up, he won’t be the same anymore, right? He’s already having problems with his talking even before this happened; no doubt we’ll have to expect worse for the following days.”

“Propose to ____,” Hanseo said in a more authoritative voice. “Then when Pop wakes up and he’s doing okay—if he doesn’t look as bad as we’re expecting him to be—let’s get you and ____ married. We’ll have the Don attend and then it’ll be shown on the news how the Don still has the strength to attend to one of the momentous occasions in his grandson’s life.”

“So, you want to use an intimate and personal event in my life as a publicity stunt?” Jeongguk scoffed.

“Don’t take it to heart, Guk.” His father frowned. “It’s for the Family.”

“It’s bound to happen sooner or later anyway,” Seokjin added. “You’ve been trying to find a ring, haven’t you?”

“Not really the time to bring that up, Jin.” Jeongguk clenched his jaw, though his annoyed expression quickly faded and he found himself nodding at the end. “But fine, alright. I’ll do it if it’s the way we should go.”

“Great.” Hanseo smiled. “Let’s just pray harder that the old man gets a full recovery then.”

Jeongguk drove to the law firm you were working at with the thought of marriage in his head. It wasn’t like it never hit him that it’s about time that the both of you get wed; Hanseo already pointed out that it’s already been five years, Seokjin already mentioned it too that he’s been finding an engagement ring as well. It’s not like Jeongguk still had his doubts most especially, he was already sure from the moment that the two of you uttered your first I love yous to each other in the past that you were going to be the one and only woman he’ll want to hear that from—no one else.

He was just afraid of pulling you into the Family further. It was inevitable and a given already, as he never once thought of letting you go for the sake of your possible safety. It was selfish and terrible of him but he always thought that if other members of the Family could do it and still keep their wives and children safe, why can’t he? After all, the Mafia might always resort to violence and blackmailing when certain happenings don’t fall in their favor, but as much as possible, they tried to not step over the line and harm a Mafioso’s blood family. Doing so would bring shame to their values and would wage a war between the Four Families as they’d support their member’s want for vengeance and justice. An eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth.

Jeongguk only hoped that it’ll always remain that way for as long as the two of you lived. He doesn’t think he would take it if something happened to you because of the business he was involved in. It was already bad enough that you’re the only weakness of your father, the only person he cherished now after your mother’s passing; now you’ve managed to become Jeongguk’s apparent weakness too.

He soon arrived at the entrance of your firm’s building. He already texted that he was on his way minutes ago, so he was pleased to see you marching out of the doors quickly once you saw his vehicle, hopping inside the passenger’s side and automatically leaning towards him as you gave him a kiss on the cheek.

“You good?” you asked straight off the bat, a hand on the back of his neck, fingers lightly massaging his nape.

Jeongguk relaxed again at the action and stared at you before being the one to lean towards you this time, kissing you on the mouth, longer and fuller. “I am,” he said as he let go, facing forward. “All thanks to you.”

You snorted while putting on your seatbelt. “Well, I’m glad. I take it that there are no concerning affairs about the Don?”

He only shook his head in confirmation, driving forward. It didn’t take long until you both were at the hospital; Jeongguk was satisfied to see that there were a significant number of men there at the entrance, alert and eyes continuously scanning the area. When they took notice of the Don’s grandson, one of Inhwan’s men, Yoongi who was mentioned earlier and was proven innocent, greeted the two of you and insisted on letting a soldato park the car so you both could head on your way. Jeongguk thanked him and proceeded on grasping your hand, pulling you with him as he followed Yoongi towards the Don’s room.

Jeongguk hardly looked at his grandfather while consoling his grandmother along the side. He never saw Don Jungsoo as helpless as he looked at that moment; the Don has always been a hero in Jeongguk’s eyes; his protector and the person he was sure would never desert him even if worst comes to worst. Even if the doctor in charge of Don Jungsoo already assured and explained to Jeongguk that they’ve already put the necessary meds to stop the blood clot and that they’re also monitoring the Don closely, Jeongguk somehow was still not at peace.

He looked like he was though, that he was calm and composed, thanking the doctor with such politeness the Don would commend him for before Jeongguk added that if his Grandpop comes out of the hospital better and healthier, he’ll put in a word to Hanseo to reward the doctor for the service.

“Do you want me to go out and buy food?” you whispered to Jeongguk as he stared at the television, his face expressionless and making it obvious that whatever was playing in the screen wasn’t capturing his interest; his grandmother already left to eat and get some clothes at the Jeon Residential Area, so it was just Jeongguk and you for the meanwhile until his uncles and cousins would arrive. “Guk?” You placed a hand on his thigh when he didn’t answer.

He dazely turned to you. “Yeah?”

You smiled. “Are you hungry? I can go out and buy food and you can stay here.”

“No, don’t leave.” He shook his head, scooting closer to you on the sofa you were both situated in. “I’m not that hungry yet. Are you?”

“Not that much.”

“Okay.” He held your hand and pulled you towards him with it, just so he could place an arm around your shoulder. “We can just stay here until Uncle comes.”

You gazed at him from the side. “Tell me what’s bothering you, sweetheart,” you murmured as you leaned your head back at his bicep.

He dared to smile. You always had a knack at reading his mind—it’s either that or he’s been visibly bothered for the past minutes for you to finally say something. “Just worried about Grandpop. Hate seeing him like this.”

“Yeah, I know. This sucks.” You pressed your lips together. “Dr. Hwang said he’ll be fine though. He’s already pulling through, all we’re waiting for is when he’ll wake up.”

“I have no doubt that he’ll be fine. I just don’t like waiting. I don’t like this stage—the uncertainty. Until I see his eyes open and have him talking to me, I’ll always feel bothered.”

“We can visit him everyday until that happens. Will that make you feel better about this? I bet it’ll make the Don happy too; he’ll be pleased to know his favorite grandson has always stuck by his side.” You grinned, teasing a little.

“How do you do that?” Jeongguk abruptly blurted and you raised your eyebrows. “How do you make things feel so easy? So light?” It wasn’t the time to act lovey-dovey, especially a few steps away from the Don’s bed, but Jeongguk got reminded of his father’s request to propose to you and marry you soon, and he deemed this second as one of the reasons why having you his wife would be one of the best decisions he’ll ever make if he decides to finally go forth with it.

“I’m made for you like that.” You smirked, squeezing his hand. “I’m your personalized lover.”

Jeongguk laughed. “That’s corny as fuck.”

“Excuse me? I’m trying to lighten the mood here more and you’re going to insult my attempts?” You were already laughing with him though.

“I love you.” He grinned and ducked his head to kiss your nose since your lips were too far from reach. “Always be my angel, okay?”

You dragged yourself higher to do his unfinished task, kissing him on the lips, just an innocent peck. “I’ll stay on your shoulder forever.”

“You better.”

You kissed him again. “I love you too, Guk.”

He sighed in content, petting your head gently while you laid your temple against his chest.

Jeongguk indeed came to the Don’s hospital room everyday after that, staying longer than you could as you had a job to maintain, keeping himself updated first hand about any news about his grandpop’s health. For days he sat at the farthest side of the sofa while various visitors offered their wishes of recovery to Don Jungsoo, holding the old man’s hand and kissing it, crying on it even as if to show how sincere they were, praying profusely for his fast recuperation. Sometimes they’d offer their wishes to Jeongguk or to Hanseo when the latter was present too.

Finally after nine days, the Don opened his eyes and Jeongguk was there to witness it happen, immediately jumping out of his seat and pressing the nurse call button as per protocol right after.

The Don looked at him, his old and misty eyes staring at Jeongguk. “Hanseo?” he said and even with the error, Jeongguk still smiled.

“It’s Jeongguk, Grandpop. It’s me. I’m here.”

“Jeongguk,” Don Jungsoo repeated, slowly recognizing him. “Jeongguk, my golden boy.”

Dr. Hwang and the nurses swarmed inside the room quickly and soon enough, the other members of the Family were already there too, having just gotten the news thanks to Jeongguk who called his father as soon as the medical staff were taking care of the Don. Even you managed to arrive at the hospital upon Jeongguk’s text swiftly, entering the VIP room with Inhwan and approaching Don Jungsoo alongside your father, the old man offering you a tired yet pleased smile as your gazes connected and you bowed in respect.

You stayed with Jeongguk for another two hours before one of Jeongguk’s uncles convinced him that he should go home, take a nice shower, and rest while they take their turn in looking out for the Don. Jeongguk agreed and obviously asked if you could come home with him, which you nodded to, said your farewells to the Don, and then fled with Jeongguk to go to their home at the Jeon Residential Area. Once there, you stayed in his room as he took a nice bath, sprawled your body on his bed and waited until he was done so you could ask what he wanted for dinner.

He came out of the bathroom just as you were talking with a fellow associate at the law firm on the phone. You ended the call shortly at his return and smiled at him; Jeongguk went to his wardrobe to pick out some clothes, wearing nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist that you would have been fazed about if it wasn’t an already common sight to see. Nonetheless, it was still a sight that you were happy to be blessed with, your eyes trailing to the curve of his tattoo-filled arms, his defined chest and abs, right over to his muscular back that Jeongguk noticed you were truly ogling at when he glanced at your direction.

“You’re drooling, angel.” He smirked and you flickered your stare back to his eyes. “You like what you see?”

“Don’t I always?” You let out a huge breath, Jeongguk grinning and walking to your spot on the bed.

He leaned down, tilting his head to the side and pressed his mouth against yours. You ultimately melted at his touch and your insides easily squirmed in desire with that one gesture. Jeongguk felt the same way, felt the same impulse to go where this was headed faster. Being the patient and considerate man he always was however, he waited until you made the second move, the move that will reassure him that you wanted it as much as he did, and the instance you tugged his towel downwards that caused it to fall down, he didn’t waste time in pushing you forward so that you’d lay on the bed and under him.

The Jeon Family was still a little old-fashioned sometimes because of Don Jungsoo; the Don still expressed his disapproval of premarital sex whenever the subject rose as he’s a firm believer that a woman should be kept pure before the night of the wedding. It was an ironic principle by the Don really, as he still condoned the organization protecting one of the largest strip joints in the city and subsequently caved into the business of prostitution as well. Perhaps it was just a value he wanted to keep within the family—a value that Jeongguk has honestly not been able to keep with you.

It was foreseeable though as you and Jeongguk were in your prime, only in your late 20s, still considerably young; the both of you were also a good looking pair and a very smitten one too. It simply would be impossible to think that nothing happened at least once in the five years you’ve been a couple. If that was the case, people would have to commend you two for the self-control and the dedication to keep the Don’s virtues within yourselves as well.

For the past week, Jeongguk has been longing to have you this near him. He’s been too preoccupied with his grandpop’s condition and what’s been going on in the business too that he hasn’t indulged himself in anything that could keep his mind away from it. With the Don unable to lead, it was Hanseo who acted as the boss of the Jeon Family; whether a lot approved of it or reckoned Hanseo as a great successor so far, Jeongguk wasn’t sure. He didn’t want to hear anything that would cause unnecessary anger and stress on his part, so he chose not to hear the opinions of others about it. He only knew that Seokjin argued a lot with Hanseo just to put his father in the right mindset.

It’s obvious that Jeongguk has indeed been craving this with the harsh slams of his hips against your thighs as he spreads you further. It’s been seconds since he triggered an orgasm from you after eating you out like a starved man, shoving two fingers in and out of you rapidly as well, intent on making you come and get you prepped for him as fast as he could for he truly has been too eager to feel you around him again. Two weeks of not getting to make love with you was too much of a long time for Jeongguk to put it plainly.

“You wasted your shower,” you moaned as he lifted a leg of yours over his shoulder, your intention to tease apparent even if you were already being railed deliciously.

“I can just take another one. With you.”

You felt the pit of your stomach beginning to knot once more in pleasure and Jeongguk grunted as you squeezed him tighter. He dropped your leg and fell forward, latching his mouth around a nipple while a free hand groped your other breast. You gripped the hair at the back of his head, tugging its strands firmly, prompting a louder grunt from Jeongguk that sounded more of a growl than any other sound he has made and he let your nipple go to return to your mouth.

“Fuck—” you cursed with a hiss— “I’m gonna come again.” You whined.

“Touch yourself for me,” he softly ordered.

You followed his command and reached down to strum your clit hastily, Jeongguk pounding his cock inside your cunt in a sloppier manner. He too was close and was already aiming to take the both of you to your highs without any more delay. In a few more thrusts, more dirty whispers on your ear as he coaxed you to come again—to milk him dry and to let yourself go—your second orgasm rippled through you greatly; your loud noises of ecstacy probably being heard beyond the four walls of Jeongguk’s bedroom that he covered your mouth with his own to not let anyone near catch it. He might be delighted to let anyone know you were being treated well in the bedroom, but he still valued your want of privacy.

“Can I come inside?” He’s heaving, sweat running down his temple and chest. “Please? Please let me come inside your pretty pussy.” Jeongguk was whining at that point, dragging every bit of his control to not blow his load just yet.

You nodded, eyes closed, muttered yes over and over again, and with your permission, Jeongguk came inside you like stated. He groaned against your neck, forehead crushing the pillow by your head, his sweet moans eliciting goosebumps to rise on your skin. He gave you a couple of slow thrusts and then pulled out, kneeling on the mattress between your legs to stare at his cum seeping down your cunt. He grinned, stroking the tip along your folds in satisfaction, pushing two fingers in to keep his load in it, and when he was done, he crawled to your side, gently hauling you to his chest.

You ran your palm on his opposite shoulder and squeezed it while your cheek rested on its twin. “I’m tired.”

“You can take a nap,” he whispered, planting kisses on your forehead and hair, anywhere his lips could touch.

“I feel icky down there.”

He laughed and you pushed yourself up to glare at him playfully. Jeongguk remained grinning; he cupped your face and kissed you on the lips again. Soon you were on your back like earlier and he was hovering over you, the both of you making out. “Angel,” he mumbled, the endearment he loved using the most because of his reasoning that you were one of those heavenly creatures yourself, rang in your head in a more loving way, and you clung yourself against him closer, “you’ll marry me if I asked, right?”

You released his lips, pushing his face away, your thoughts returning to earth at his out of the blue inquiry. “What?”

“Marry me,” he said with more conviction, his eyes staring through yours. “I’ll make you the happiest woman alive.”

You chuckled. “I already am.”

“Then make me the happiest man alive by saying yes.”

“Guk—”

“I love you. You love me. We’ve been loving each other since forever. Why don’t we officiate it?”

“Is this your ‘I just got laid and I feel high’ brain speaking?”

“____…” he called you by your name, a rather rare occurrence if it’s just the two of you than most people would think; you understood then that he was really being serious, “I want to marry you.”

You gazed at him, your hand pushing his hair back away from his face. You appeared amazed, like you were waiting for the punch line of his joke or for him to generally just take his words back—but it never came, Jeongguk just remained staring at you, waiting for you to answer, and with a shaky exhale after realizing he was for real, you nodded. “Okay. Propose to me then.”

He kissed you; he placed his lips close to your ear; he murmured and confessed his love to you all over again. You smiled all throughout, your heartbeat beating fast and your eyes welling up as you listened to him recount dozens of memories with you, memories that you weren’t even aware he remembered up until that moment. As his finale, he asked you again if you would do the honor of marrying him, to make him the happiest man alive, though barely finishing his sentence, he abruptly propelled himself up from his position and rummaged for something in the bedside table at your left, and when he let you see what he stole from the drawer’s contents, it was a red box.

“Have you always had that right there?” you exclaimed, amused.

“No, just last night. I was beating myself up for not being able to think of a creative way of proposing soon and I might have shoved this ring too hard inside the drawer.”

You chuckled. “You’re unbelievable, Guk. You’re naked and you’re proposing and now you’re telling me you’ve endangered my supposed engagement ring?”

He ignored your teasing, acknowledging it only with a grin. “Will you marry me?” he finished his propal and opened the box; as expected of Jeongguk’s superior taste, the diamond ring that was placed in the center was so gorgeous you widened your eyes in astonishment.

You stared at the ring longer and looked up at him; you tipped your head to the side for effect and gestured to him to come closer. He did with a roll of his eyes, setting his head near yours and you hooked your arm around his neck, pulling him lower before whispering too in his ear. “Yes.”

What happened next was consisted of childlike giggling, Jeongguk pushing the ring on your ring finger, Jeongguk tackling you in an embrace, the both of you telling each other “I love you so much” until the phrase wore out, and then the inevitable love making for the second time that evening that also came to be more heartfelt than the last one—one that Jeongguk automatically added to his long list of unforgettable memories with you, his soon-to-be wife.

━ CHAPTER IV.

You didn’t want anything too flashy, that’s what you made clear. You wanted the wedding ceremony to only be attended by close friends and family; you wanted it to be intimate and personal as a wedding you thought should be. And although Jeongguk agreed and understood your point when you told him that, he expressed early on too that it was not going to be easy to make it happen for the sole reason that the person you were marrying was the grandson of the great Don Jungsoo—meaning that flashy and well-publicized would be the adjectives that would describe your wedding with him and not intimate and personal.

“I’m sorry,” he apologized sincerely right across from you on the table; the two of you were having lunch in some fancy restaurant near your law firm, the topic of wedding plans arising while you ate. “I wish I could say that I can just go ahead and tell Grandpop that I’d like to keep our wedding private, but you know how he is. You know how this family is.”

For the last few weeks, the Don’s health has been better. There were still risks, of course; he wasn’t magically cured from all illnesses just because he woke up and recovered. He was still an old man after all, and ever since the incident happened to him, his speech has notably become incomprehensible at times; a part of his face also slightly drooped, though you wouldn’t really notice it unless you’ve been staring at the Godfather your whole life and was sensitive to changes like that. As for his body though, he became thinner and in every step he took, looked like he grew heavier too. However, in regards to Don Jungsoo’s wisdom and ability to share intelligent thoughts, it was still gratefully there, just shared in a fashion that was a bit slower than before and perhaps harder to understand.

“Yeah, I get it,” you said. “What if we just elope and get married at some place like Vegas instead?” You were clearly joking. You showed it in the small upward curve of the other end of your lips, but you knew that Jeongguk sensed that there was still some genuinity hidden behind your light guise. “I’m kidding,” you added for a quick measure.

“I’m sorry,” he repeated.

“Don’t apologize, sweetheart. There’s no reason for you to do so.”

“It’s just that I think I’m depriving you of spending our wedding day the way you want it. Haven’t you dreamed about something like this when you were young?”

“I did. I forgot about it eventually too. It’s not a big deal.”

“It’ll be a big deal to me if my beautiful bride won’t be happy on our special day.”

“Keep up the flattery and I’ll assure you that your beautiful bride will be happy.” You chuckled.

“Okay, how about this—” Jeongguk reached out and grasped your hand— “you do everything you want for the wedding and I won’t object. You can pick the theme, the food, the cake—everything. The only thing I’ll be having control over is the extra guesses for the ceremony and reception.”

“Guk, come on, I won’t deprive you like that. This is your wedding too.”

“I just want it to be memorable and have it the way you want, angel.”

“As long as you’re the one I’m saying I do too—it’ll be memorable and be exactly like I dreamed of. Don’t worry.”

Jeongguk grinned. “You mean that?”

“Would I have said yes if I didn’t?”

He chuckled and brought your knuckles to his lips, smooching it loudly in a playful yet sweet way.

Two months after that, you had your engagement party at the villa. Your home was big enough to accomodate people and it was a good thing that at least in that event, you had only spent it with your close loved ones and not anyone who wanted to suck up to your groom and steal him throughout the whole event, perhaps drowning him in unnecessary praises and ego boosts to get a good word from Jeongguk to Don Jungsoo. It was Jeongguk’s promise that he would ask the Don to keep the engagement party as exclusive as what you wanted, and indeed it is what happened.

There were people from your law firm, friends from college and from law school, and as for Jeongguk’s peers, he invited only a small number of people he knew; he told you they were mostly family friends, some college friends too, and close relatives. Your father, Inhwan, couldn’t help but invite his own set of guests, mostly people he knew through the Don. Of course, that only meant that the Don and his wife were also present in the event, along with Jeongguk’s parents, Hanseo and Yeonjin, and Seokjin with his wife as well.

A lot of people gawked and praised your diamond engagement ring, gushing how it looked dashing on your beautiful hand and how Jeongguk must have really gone all the way to buy it for you. In the moments your fiancé heard such admiration, he, who was standing beside you all day, smiled and squeezed your waist, glancing at you before declaring that it’s because you only deserve the best every single time. Ladies shared meaningful looks of envy with each other and teased you for being so lucky; gentlemen whistled in hilarity and gave Jeongguk playful pushes. Anybody with two eyes saw how you both shared great love and respect for one another, that it was always either admirable or gut-wrenching (in a good way).

“Are you ready to be part of the family?” Seokjin suddenly popped beside you and handed you a champagne flute. Jeongguk just left to go to the bathroom and unbeknownst to you, had asked Seokjin to take his place for a while until he came back.

You thanked him. “Is that question some kind of test?”

“Yep. If you say the wrong answer, I get to claim that fancy ring as my prize.” He nodded at your hand where the ring glimmered in the hanging lights. “I think I can support my family with that for over a couple of years.”

You snickered at his sarcasm.

While you were growing up, you have always admittedly been closer to Seokjin than you were with Jeongguk. Before your fiancé officially entered your life and claimed what would soon be his permanent place, it was Seokjin who you frequently saw and hung around with. The two of you had a similar sense of humor that you found clear connection in; he was and acted like an older brother you never had—in Jeongguk’s case, he already was an adoptive brother of the young man for since the death of Seokjin’s parents when he was in high school, Hanseo, who was his godfather, took him in the family. Inhwan was there to fend for him too, hence why you two became close, however, there was a period in your friendship wherein it faded out a little when he went to the States to pursue his baccalaureate and Juris Doctor degree, a path that you too was supposed to take as an aspiring lawyer yourself but with your father having no one close to real family if you did, you opted to stay.

“Is it odd that I’m a little nervous about it?” you asked him after a few seconds of silence. “Like, me and Guk have been together for so long, and I know his family likes me, but why do I still feel like they might change their mind when we get married?”

“As in Yeonjin becomes an evil mother-in-law?” He smirked and you gave him a look at the question. “Your worries are pointless, really. You know they already adore you. Hell, even the Don loves you and that’s an achievement of its own. You don’t have anything to be troubled about, ____.”

“The Don loves everyone.” You sipped on your flute.

“He loves everyone who his family loves,” he corrected. “To others he’s just kind and generous.”

You scrunched your forehead together and stared then at the Don who sat on a table far from yours. He was talking to Hanseo and Inhwan, a rather somber expression on his face; his mouth moved in a slow and steady bearing. You’ve thanked him earlier for going still despite his obvious declining health. He was still able to do things on his own and appear like he has always been, but being one to know what’s really going on behind the glamour of Don Jungsoo, you were aware that his first case of having a stroke took its toll on him; a fact that you noticed the Jeon Family has been trying to conceal.

“Seokjin, can you be honest with me?” you suddenly began.

He glanced at you. “About what?”

“The reason why your family insists on having the wedding as soon as possible.” You turned to him. “It’s because of Don Jungsoo’s condition, isn’t it?”

“Why do you say that?”

“Just an observation.” You shrugged nonchalantly.

Seokjin raised an eyebrow. “Don’t you think questions like that ought to be asked to Jeongguk instead?”

“I already did.”

“And what did he tell you?”

“He said that he wants his grandfather to be present and healthy on the special day, that’s why we should get married as soon as possible.”

“Then that’s the reason.”

“That’s a reason,” you said. “I have a feeling there’s more.”

Seokjin stared at you and brought the rim of his champagne on his lips. “You’re a smart girl, princess,” he replied. “And because of that, I’m sure you’ll figure it out on your own.”

You dared to snort in amusement. You knew that Seokjin was another one who didn’t budge, but it was still worth the shot.

You wanted to be let in with whatever has been happening since the Don’s mishap as you didn’t think that the way they reacted was how a normal family would when the head of your clan just suffered from a stroke. They were still sympathetic, of course, overly concerned about the health of the Don, however you had felt the tension that rose within the Jeon Family in the days that Don Jungsoo remained lying unconscious on his hospital bed. You saw how troubled Jeongguk was, even saw your father look visibly stressed, though what you had found most peculiar were the way outsiders were reacting to the news of the Don falling ill. They were taking every opportunity to bring down his name and his family—referring to him with titles such as ‘mob boss’ and ‘king of the underworld’ that it was impossible for you not to be curious.

“What did I miss?” Jeongguk returned to your place with raised eyebrows. “What’s with the serious faces?”

“I was welcoming ____ to the family,” Seokjin told him.

You decided to play along. His disregard of the last conversation probably meant he wasn’t keen on talking about it again. “More like threatening me. He wants to steal my ring.” You laughed at the same time Seokjin did when he heard you.

“I’m going to see this more often, aren’t I?” Jeongguk’s arm snaked around your waist while his eyes moved back and forth between you two. “The both of you just constantly ganging up on me with inside jokes or whatever?”

“Maybe. That’s what makes ____ the best sister-in-law, though.”

“The only sister-in-law actually.” You snickered. Seokjin clinked his glass with yours.

After the engagement party took place, came the rapid planning for the wedding. Don Jungsoo was ever so kind to pledge that all expenses for the ceremony and the reception were to be paid by him, an offer that you wanted to reject for even though you appreciated his kindness with all of your heart, you didn’t want to burden him and take advantage of it in that kind of extent. Jeongguk convinced you not to do so and just go along with it though; he said that The Don gained happiness by doing favors like that to his loved ones, especially to his favorite grandson, as he proudly claimed. Jeongguk insisted that it would bring great satisfaction to his Grandpop to know that he made a huge contribution to an important event of both of your lives.

So, you agreed, and in five months’ time, the wedding ceremony commenced and with just a blink of an eye, you found yourself being a true married woman to Jeon Jeongguk. You vowed to love him endlessly and to always be by his side in a cathedral that fit hundreds of people, people who you either knew well or have never met in your whole life. But you found yourself not caring as much with the amount of individuals present like you initially did. All you cared about was how handsome Jeongguk looked in his midnight blue tuxedo and his hair styled in a fashion that had one side slicked back and the other had some strands falling on his forehead, his big and boyish grin that he displayed right after when he shed some tears as he saw you walk down the aisle, his promises of devotion to you from that point forward, and especially the strength and earnestness of his kiss when the priest finally said “You may now kiss the bride”.

“I love you,” he whispered to you as he leaned back, his face only centimeters away, those words the only thing processing in your head while the crowd clapped and cheered

You grinned, kissing him more. “And I love you.”

The reception was held in one of the Don’s owned properties, a spacious mansion that no doubt was able to cater the hundreds of guests present. It was decorated in line with yours and Jeongguk’s chosen theme for the reception which was rustic, fitting the also rustic architecture of the venue. There were dark wooden chairs and tables covered only partially with white linen tablecloth; hand-tied bouquets and florals with greenery on baskets at some parts of the walls; antique ornaments and lights hanging on the ceiling; and the ambiance of the place was simply just the way you both wanted, delighting you two when you first arrived.

You slightly grew self-conscious with the amount of guests again when the host introduced you and Jeongguk as a married couple. You scanned the audience and saw a lot of familiar faces—and they were familiar not because you knew them personally, but because you have seen them on TV or in a newspaper once. You were aware that the Don had a lot of friends from the entertainment industry too, but you didn’t think that some of them would actually be close enough with the Don to be invited to the wedding.

“Just say the magic word and I’ll bail us out,” Jeongguk said against your ear while a distant relative of his sang in the center of the hall. The fun games were over and the program was going towards its end, the only thing left were the warm messages and the performances that your loved ones prepared for the special day.

You turned to him and chuckled. “First of all, I have no idea of this magic word that you’re talking about. Second of all—that eager to get me alone, huh?”

His eyes glinted.

You two made a pack since your engagement party that you would not partake in any sexual acts (the most would only be making out or groping if the libido was too tough to handle) before the wedding to make the night of the honeymoon more awaited for. It wasn’t even that long, to be frank (okay, maybe it was—five months was a considerable long time) but it was the longest in a while that you haven’t had sex since you started doing such act with him. Jeongguk was okay with the idea and agreed that it’ll make the wedding night more worth the wait.

However, earlier at the room where the both of you changed into different clothes for the reception, Jeongguk had kissed you and you kissed him back with the same flaring passion he was showing, prompting an unplanned heavy make out session that also brought a palm of his on one of your ass cheeks, your husband squeezing it and groaning, murmuring how he couldn’t wait until later to have you again. You jokingly slapped it away and told him to be more patient, which he groaned louder for and kissed you one last time before finishing on dressing up.

“You’ve been driving me crazy all day,” he continued, still whispering close to your ear. “You looked so gorgeous in the wedding dress—and now look at you right now, angel. You’re really giving me the impression that you truly are a gift from the heavens.”

You smiled. You were wearing a more daring attire for the reception, a lace maxi dress with a straight neckline and thin shoulder straps; it had a slit on the right side just above your knee as well, but it wasn’t that aspect of the dress that made it daring, it was the fact it completely exposed your back from behind and only had strings tied across its ends to make it appear not completely backless.

“You can take it off for me later,” you told him with a smirk.

Jeongguk huffed at that. “Don’t plant the idea in my head or I’m going to have a boner all night.”

“Well, it’s only fair. Do you think I’m fine with your chest practically in my face?” you retorted, and in cue, flickered your gaze down to his chest where the polo he was wearing had three buttons opened, giving anyone the view of his impressive pecs.

He seemed pleased that you noticed it. “You’re more than welcome to take it off for me too.”

“I’ll rip it off you, sweetheart.” You chuckled and pecked the corner of his mouth. He hummed and placed a cheeky hand on your upper thigh at the action, and when your eyes followed where his hand was travelling, you automatically lowered it down to your knee. “Guk.”

“Okay, okay,” he frowned and faced his palm up, an invitation for you to intertwine it with his and you accepted the offer, “I’ll behave.”

For the rest of the night, after the special performances by good friends and family, the reception felt like a campaign and Jeongguk was the candidate as it neared its conclusion. Acquaintances and business partners talked and congratulated him—they congratulated you too, of course, but you sensed that it was only mere politeness that made them do so. Their real target was still the Don’s grandson and having the chance to butter him up for the sake of getting on the good side of Don Jungsoo. In fact, you think that Don Jungsoo was perhaps more acknowledged than you throughout the evening as you recalled the amount of men that went to his table and shook his hand in eagerness for the duration of the function.

“Really, Dad? You’re going to cry at this last moment?” you teased your father; his expression was solemn and he had his lips pursed as you bid him your farewells to go to the airport where you’ll be flying to Jeju Island for the honeymoon. He didn’t cry when he handed you to Jeongguk at the cathedral, or shed a tear when you shared your father-daughter dance at the reception, but now it looked like his tear ducts were finally surrendering in defeat.

“I’m not crying,” he denied, though his hug was tight when you embraced him. “You take care of yourself, okay?”

“I’m still coming back after two weeks, you know.”

“Yeah, I know, kiddo.” He pulled back and kissed you on the forehead, holding you out within arm’s length to gaze at you fondly. “I guess I’m a little overreacting. Imagine if your mom was still here.”

“No doubt there’ll be waterfalls coming from her eyes.” You joked. One of the fond memories you had of your late mother was how easy it was to trigger a tear from her.

“Inhwan,” Jeongguk just finished instructing some men to help with the luggages so he decided to join the two of you, “or is it Dad too from now on?”

Inhwan laughed lightly as the young man stood beside you. “Sure, why not? You’re officially my son-in-law now anyways.”

Jeongguk gestured for a hug and Inhwan complied. He patted Inhwan’s back and said with a soft voice, “Don’t worry, I’ll do everything I can to always make ____ happy. She’s safe with me.”

“I know you will.” Inhwan grasped his shoulder when they both leaned away. “That’s why I like you so much, Guk. You’re a good one, you take care of my kid well.” They shared a smile.

While they continued to talk, you approached Hanseo, Yeonjin, and Jeongguk’s grandmother. You told them your thanks again for being part of the momentous occasion and for helping in making it happen in the way you wanted. Hanseo told you that it was no problem; Yeonjin kissed your cheek and said she was happy to finally have a daughter herself; Jeongguk’s grandmother embraced you and gave your cheek a kiss as well, saying there that she should begin passing on famous recipes in the Jeon household to you. Next, you moved to the Don who was just about to go ahead and sit at the backseat of his designated vehicle, but upon seeing you walk to him, stopped and waited until you two were finally standing face to face.

“Thank you so much for everything today, Don Jungsoo,” you said, bowing to show your respect. Even though the Don has been nothing but kind and goodhearted to you in the past years you have known him, you were still cautious whenever you interacted with the old man for the reason that is you were still intimidated by his presence and the powerful aura he gave off. “I appreciate it so much, truly, I don’t think I can ever thank you enough for being so generous.”

“You’re part of the family now, ____,” he clasped a hand of yours between his and tapped it gently, “so please feel comfortable to call me as Jeongguk would. It is I who should be thanking you for being there for my grandson no matter how difficult that boy can be. Everything I’ve done is nothing compared to the joy you’ve given him amidst the hardships he goes through everyday.”

“Oh, it comes both ways, I assure you. Jeongguk was clearly raised well for him to be this wonderful.”

“I hope that stays for a long time then—you and Jeongguk respecting and loving each other. One thing I’m sure in this withered life of mine is that loyalty plays a huge part in how events play out. The best investment you can ever have in your life is a good partner to spend it with.” He gave your hand another pat and then he let go. “Tell me if Jeongguk ever gives you a hard time and I’ll teach him a lesson.”

“That’s impossible, Grandpop.” Jeongguk walked from behind you and hugged his grandfather goodbye. “I don’t think you've noticed but ____ clearly has the pants in this relationship.”

They laughed, the Don’s laughter coming out as a wheeze though the smile on his face was unmistakably and genuinely amused. He said his final farewells to you two and you told him yours, saying too that you hope for him to keep on getting better that the Don appreciably smiled at and said his thanks. You watched as the vehicle he was in drove away, two more following closely behind as another led the path, placing the car where Don Jungsoo was in the middle.

“Ready to go?” Jeongguk asked when it was just you two there.

You smiled at him. “Yeah.”

You arrived at Jeju Island at about 10:56 PM that night. Out of all the places you could have gone to, you and him decided that Jeju Island was the one to go for the honeymoon because it was the same place where you celebrated your first anniversary in the past. Besides, you two didn’t want to go to another beautiful country and exhaust yourselves more with the travel time and all the arrangements you’d have to do for the location you’d be staying in for two weeks. The hotel you’ll be residing in was sponsored yet again by Jeongguk’s family.

“I hope you’re not too tired.” Jeongguk smirked at you while you both walked out of the elevator to head to the suite you were going to settle in for the mini vacation.

You glanced at him and smirked back; your hands were intertwined and you were swaying it back and forth childishly. “Me? Of course not.”

“You sure?”

“One hundred percent. How about you?”

“You really want to ask that?” He was looking at you differently now, eyes shaping themselves in a manner that you were all too familiar with.

“Well, I’m asking you because I’m just hoping you won’t sleep on me. I know we haven’t gotten proper action in months for you to miss this opportunity but let’s be real—when you’re tired, you’re tired.”

“I swear, I’m not.” He chuckled and paused with you as you arrived by the door. “I’m too pumped for me to be and indeed miss this opportunity.” He brought out the keycard, pressed it against the intended spot, and you heard the lock disengage with an audible click

At the sound of that, you began to get jitters. It was another one of those funny things you’ve been experiencing with anything related to Jeongguk since the engagement—that even though you’ve been with him practically half of your life and was one of the people you could be your absolute self and be assured you won’t be judge—you were starting to feel awkward and shy at times, such as this moment right here where even though Jeongguk had already kept the keycard back in his pocket and had opened the door to welcome yourselves to the room, you were frozen on where you stood, your feet seemingly stuck.

He appeared to have sensed your sudden showcase of reluctance for he abruptly faced you, his hands going on your bare arms as he smiled. “Let’s go?” He tilted his head towards the suite. Your luggages were already there, placed kindly by the hotel staff while you and Jeongguk were finalizing some papers at the lobby.

You shook every feeling of wariness away and nodded. At the gesture, Jeongguk’s smile widened into a grin and as fast as he could, he scooped you in his arms in what popular media would call ‘bridal style’, emitting a surprised yelp from you though you prevented your mouth from producing more noise by covering it with a hand while he walked further inside the room, kicking the door close behind him.

“Guk!” You laughed and he did too, face getting closer to yours until he captured your lips successfully.

You reciprocated as soon as you felt him kiss you, your arms being thrown around his neck so you could support yourself better. Jeongguk laid you down on the bed and you realized that rose petals were on them when your back hit the mattress, your eyes opening and spinning down to check if what you were thinking of were true and true enough, there they were. You had to make a mental note to thank the owner of the hotel for being accommodating enough to do the effort of creating a romantic atmosphere; they might do this as a standard for newly-weds, but the owner was a good friend of Hanseo’s so you wanted to express your gratitude personally.

“You said I could take this off, right?” Jeongguk ran his hands on the sides of your dress and you nodded.

He moved his mouth to your throat and kicked off with what he’s been yearning to do for those whole five months of not getting the proper taste of you. Despite the longing and the anticipation though, Jeongguk didn’t act rashly; instead he did anything rather excruciatingly slow—the way his lips moved against yours, how he untied the straps that enabled your dress to stay together, the manner in which he removed it from your body, planting wet kisses on your skin where the fabric of your dress previously glided on… fucking hell, you didn’t know whether you were trembling already because of his obvious unhurriedness or because you knew where his ministrations were going to take you.

“So pretty,” he breathed out raggedly as he squeezed your breasts. You were completely undressed before him as he intended, the only thing left was your white laced underwear that you wore to match the dress. “I think I’m going to nut by this sight of you alone, angel.”

You dared to chuckle. “Is it my turn to rip your polo off now?” Your hands were fondling the collar of his top.

“Be my guest.” He smirked.

Unlike him, you were swift in unbuttoning his long-sleeved polo, hastily pushing it past his shoulders to slide it off his arms. In the approximately ten seconds you did that, you kept on kissing him, sucking lightly on his lower lip, Jeongguk helping you in discarding the material away from his body as well. When that was done, he surged forward, laying over you on the bed, and you quickly carried on with removing his pants, briskly unbuckling his belt and unzipping it to grant you the freedom to tug it down his thighs.

As he pressed his body against you, you ultimately felt his hardness on your stomach, a sensation that you groan at, your insides tingling. You instinctively reached down and grabbed his cock over his boxers to feel it more, massaging and groping it, just the way he liked and what Jeongguk responded to by nibbling your jaw harshly. “Fuck,” he moaned before uttering a warning, “not too fast, not too fast.”

“Want you,” you pant, ignoring his protest, your palm not slowing down, “right now, Guk. Want your dick in my mouth.”

“Yeah?” He grunted, disposing of his boxers and flinging it off his feet. “Does my pretty wife want her mouth fucked first?”

You grinned at the title. It made your pussy clench into nothing. “Yes.”

He gnawed at your jaw before leaning back. “Scoot higher for me.” He instructed and you followed, backing up on the bed until you stopped at the pillows by the head. There were still petals all over the sheets that you had to flick them away with the back of your hand.

Jeongguk trailed his kisses from your knees up to your inner thighs, hands sensually caressing your sides then your breasts. He always had a thing for your tits; he received pleasure from just seeing them cupped by his hands, loved it when it jiggled when he fucked you hard—the image of that alone popping in his head making him harder. Without delay then, he proceeded on going forth with your request, Jeongguk kneeling over you, both of his knees on either side of your shoulders, the tip of cock on your chin.

There was precum leaking on it, a sight that you salivated at. Jeongguk gave his shaft a few strokes, teasing you by gliding the end of his dick on your lips. “Shit,” he groaned when he indulged himself in finally pushing his cock inside your mouth, “that feels so good already, angel. Just like that—I missed that mouth.”

His thrusts were relaxed. He didn’t really want to rush. He gently ran his fingers through your hair and pushed all loose strands away, wanting to get a clear view of your face. You had your eyes closed and you were bobbing your head voluntarily to meet each thrust of his hips. At one instance, you let the tip reach the farthest it could go and you gagged a little, pulling back with a heavy gasp. Jeongguk stretched behind him and touched your clothed heat, feeling how soaked it already was and how just a light press brought a lengthy moan out of you.

“Fuck, fuck.” He cursed as he fucked your mouth faster, your hand palming his balls, though upon the last minute, once his cock was starting to pulsate and his balls were tightening, he pulled back.

You exhaled, some saliva connecting your lips and his cock, and Jeongguk kissed your mouth sloppily before he slithered down to stop right in front of your cunt, working faster now as he pulled your underwear off and dived right in between your legs, sucking and slurping on your clit with a profound determination. His groans and grunts added to the pleasure—you loved hearing him get so into the act of whatever it was that he was doing to drive you crazy—craved it at times even, his sweet sounds even staying in your mind after you were both done. Jeongguk spreaded your lips and spat right on them and went back in, growling.

“So sweet. I’ve been dreaming about tasting this pussy again,” he said, two fingers rubbing it as his tongue licked your clit. “I could drink you up all night.” He inserted the fingers right in your hole and you mewled, arching your back slightly at the movement, moreso as he rapidly pushed it in and out, all the while still sucking your bundle of nerves. It felt like it was going on forever; everything was so good and your toes were curling already in anticipation. He switched between fucking you with his digits and his tongue, your walls welcoming the muscle every time and giving him something to taste.

“Ah—holy shit, I’m close—” you grabbed a fistful of his hair— “fucking hell—I’m going to come.”

The usual thing that Jeongguk would have done was keep up with his speed until you were coming on his face, your juices right on his mouth, his chin, just everywhere—but he stopped, for he had already thought that if there was anywhere you would be coming on for the first time in the last five months, it was going to be on his cock. And so he pulled away and hauled you closer by dragging you towards him roughly with your thighs. You gasped at the sudden showcase of strength, Jeongguk dropping back over you to devour your breasts.

His shaft was pressing against your heat, so near that it was causing you to be more impatient. Jeongguk nibbled a bud and squeezed the other, noisy and so fucking erotic it was sending you off to another space. You couldn’t take it anymore; you tried rubbing your folds together on his dick.

“Fuck me, Guk—please, please,” you begged and cried. “I can’t—I wanna feel you so bad now.”

He stopped paying attention to your tits and looked up, his hair messy and his eyes completely dazed. He brought himself higher so your faces were in level and kissed you; you still tasted what’s left of you in his mouth. “You want my cock inside your pussy?” he asked.

You nodded hastily. “Want it, please.”

“Really? How much?”

“So fucking much.”

“Is that the best thing you could do?” His fingers wrapped itself on your jaw and he tightened his grip. It didn’t hurt, just made you steady—made you pay more attention to reality; he knew you liked it. “Beg harder for it, angel,” he said, looking straight in your eyes now.

You whined. “Please, please, please—I want it.” You marveled his chest, your palms appreciably massaging his pecs. “I want you to fuck me hard—want you to come in my pussy, fill me up so fucking good.”

“Yeah?” His fingers moved to your throat as he leaned back. “You want me to knock you up on our wedding night?”

“Jeongguk—please—fuck me, please.”

He dared to chuckle at the desperation. “Well, who am I to deprive my wife of what she wants, hmm?” He began to align his dick on your entrance. It’s been too long since his manhood was directly on your heat that even he shudders at the contact. “My beautiful wife deserves to be fucked good, doesn’t she?” It was obvious how the fondness of calling you his wife was already planted within him in the not even 24 hours of being married.

You were definitely not thinking straight anymore as he pushed it in. “Yes, yes, yes—” you moaned the words out in a chant, the stretch his cock does to your cunt compelling a louder cry from you in pleasure.

Jeongguk too was desperate. He fucked you fast and hard straight off which your slickness allowed him to do so without difficulty. His fingers that remained on your throat tightened in just the right amount, choking you in just the right way as he kept himself at a distance while he hovered over you. Jeongguk has always been a mix of aggressive and loving when it came to bed; it was either he was too aggressive or excessively loving, both that you didn’t have any complaints about. At the end of each ‘session’, he always satisfied you nonetheless and made you feel absolutely amazing—you never had one encounter with him that had you dismayed or upset after.

You were really getting close the more he rocked against you. You weren’t one too hard to be pleased—to trigger an orgasm from—especially if it’s Jeongguk we were talking about here, and given the five-month long of abstinence from sex to make this first night of the honeymoon extra worthwhile, you were too sensitive to hold back and control yourself from coming already. Jeongguk of course sensed that you were close, he groaned and growled whenever you clenched around his cock, your warm walls bringing him to the edge alongside you.

“You gonna come, angel?” He let go of your throat and was spreading your legs further, pushing and bending you forward. “Gonna come for me?”

You nodded, unable to speak, and he gave you one last hard kiss before he paused in working his hips to start lifting you up, erupting another whine from you for you were already there at the very last second when he did so, though you tried to make yourself as light as possible as he sat and made you sit on him, his cock not leaving your cunt. You got the hint and attached your mouth back on his, riding him in a fast pace instantly, continuing on where the both of you left on.

Jeongguk gave your ass a hard slap and gripped them firmly, bouncing you up and down on his dick faster. “That’s it, that’s it,” he grumbled, sliding his hand down to strum your clit, “that’s right, fucking use my cock to get off. That cock is fucking yours to use.”

You threw your head back and he used that as an opportunity to lavish on your chest, sucking and licking, and with the overwhelming sensation of his dick, the friction, the stimulation on your clit—in an abrupt snap, you came hard without warning, practically screaming his name as you did so, thighs convulsing uncontrollably, Jeongguk moaning too, cupping your face and dragging it close to his so he could kiss you and add to the pleasure you were experiencing.

You rode him until your thighs were aching and until he was on the verge of coming himself. Jeongguk urged you off him and turned you on your back when he was close, the side of your face falling on the mattress. He held your hips up, pushed your upper half down further, and fucked you senseless immediately, not wasting time, overstimulating your sensitive pussy but it was too good to ask him to stop.

“Fuck, you feel so fucking good—so tight, don’t know how I fucking lived without the feel of this for fucking months—” he moaned and gave your ass another hard slap, the sound of it ringing in your ears and making you clench. Jeongguk cursed again at the action and bent down to press his chest against you, sloppy kisses given on your shoulders and neck. “I’m gonna come. Gonna come inside you.”

“Please,” you choked out.

“You too. Come with me, angel.”

“Guk,” you whined, your tone protesting.

He was ramming onto your harder, his hips going haywire, and his hand went under your bodies to caress your breast, fingers pinching the bud. “Please—fucking, holy shit—I know you can. I know you can come for me. You’re my good girl. My sweet—” he shoved his cock deeper, pulling back from the tip and then pushing it all in— “sweet, fucking, beautiful girl.”

It is when he did that previous movement for a couple of times and whispered more praises in your ear that you found yourself experiencing another orgasm the same time that finally he too came with a very audible groan, his thick seed spilling inside you and filling you up. He squeezed your ass harshly, nails digging on them a bit, and then he pulled out after a few more thrusts, eating your pussy from behind right after as if everything wasn’t enough. He groaned at the taste of his cum mixed with your juices; he felt blood rushing to his dick again at the arousing taste of it and the image of your swollen cunt a second ago with his seed pouring down.

“Guk,” you whined, “too… too much,” you said when it was really starting to hurt.

Jeongguk leaned his face away and calmed down, granting soft kisses on your buttcheeks, his kisses travelling upwards until he had you laying on your back again, his mouth back on yours. “I missed fucking you,” he declared explicitly and you had the nerve to laugh, the pit of your stomach tingling in agreeableness.

“Told you it was worth it,” you bothered to joke and Jeongguk chuckled, his breathing ragged but he was composing himself, raising his head and looking at you.

“You’re worth it,” he said.

Your heartbeat escalated—as if it hadn’t been beating fast enough with the events that just transpired—and you placed your palm on his cheeks, stroking it affectionately. “You too. I love you so much, Jeongguk.”

He nuzzled his nose against yours, smiling, endearing bunny-like features showcasing themselves; he appeared like a different person from the man who was just drilling your cunt a while ago. “I love you much more, my angel.”

“No, no, that’s unfair. No one gets to love the other more.”

“It’s true though,” he argued. “But I didn’t mean that as a way to compete with what you feel—I’m just saying I love you much more. Much more than I can always say.”

You squinted your eyes at him and laughed. “Okay, Dr. Cheesy.”

“You laughing at me?” He playfully grazed his teeth against your earlobe and you squealed, Jeongguk chuckling.

You smiled so wide that your cheeks hurt; you kissed him repeatedly, wounding your arms around his shoulders, sighing in peace and thanking the universe for setting you up with a man as extraordinary as your husband. He returned the gesture and the both of you continued to consummate your marriage again and again throughout the night, the passion and the intimacy undeniable as what should be expected with newly-weds who were deeply in love with each other.

That prevailed in the next few days to come. You and Jeongguk were going at it like—well, as you liked to describe him as—as bunnies. You two were practically never seen outside the hotel suite except for breakfast, lunch, and dinner, sometimes even skipping going to the buffet area and opted for room service instead. Though when all the oxytocin died down (there were still left, but controlled) and you weren’t taking the other’s clothes off in every chance that either of you could get, you went to the beaches and famous travel spots around the island.

There you had the opportunity to do all the things your busy lives couldn’t let you two do. Both of you went hiking to famous mountains, visited majestic waterfalls and caves—you and Jeongguk even went horseback riding where he showed you some serious skills that you don’t think you’ve had the chance to see before, and generally just headed to all the tourist attractions your itinerary contained. All throughout, you forgot about your life waiting in Seoul for a while, this honeymoon with Jeongguk proving to be an event that you most definitely wanted to recreate in the future if said life allowed you to.

“I don’t know if I’m aroused or disturbed,” Jeongguk whispered to you while you two stared at a sculpture of a man and a woman clearly having sex; the woman was doing some kind of handstand and the man was behind her, supporting her and quite frankly, had his penis inside her too. One of your destinations was the famous Loveland in Jeju Island, where apparently there was really a lot of R rated art involved all over the park just like what you’ve been briefed about.

You snickered. “Maybe we’ve been having sex too much that it’s not as exciting to see.” You tilted your head to the side to get a better look at it. The details amazed you.

“Absolutely not,” he disagreed with a scrunched forehead, gazing at the sculpture too in interest still. “Do you think we can do that position later?”

Your hand flew up to hit his chest at the sudden question, eyes widening. “Jeongguk!”

“What?” He was grinning already though. “Is it wrong for me to ask?”

“Can you not ask it at this second?” You laughed. Your face was already burning at just the thought of Jeongguk having you in that position.

“So, you’re down to do it then?”

“No,” you gave him a look, “and even if I was, I don’t think I can carry myself and be able to do what the lady is doing.”

He nodded as if he was in deep thought. Jeongguk was wearing a familiar button down polo that day, the same orangish yellow Fendi one you had teased him for when he first officially asked you out, and even in the five years that has passed, he still looked unbelievably delicious on it, his tattoos that have gained in number on full display and a new set of sunglasses hooked on the front of his top, tugging it lower than normal. “I mean, we can do it while on the bed, like without you doing the handstand.”

“You really want to try it, don’t you?”

“You mentioned us having sex and now you planted the idea, angel. It’s your fault.” He smirked.

You rolled your eyes and looped an arm around his. “Let’s get out of this place before you get any more ideas.”

“Is that a yes?”

“It’s a no, sweetheart.”

You still did it however—the revised version of course—that very night as well. You’ve concluded once more that there’s just no way you could ever resist Jeongguk the moment he begins working his charm. He knew exactly what to do to get what he wanted; you thought that it’s because he always got what he wanted too in the entirety of his existence that he was already a master in memorizing what people wanted to hear or see from him to make them do him the favor. At some point when you were just starting to get friendly with Jeongguk, you constantly teased him for being a spoiled grandson of the Don and he would retaliate playfully that you were a spoiled daughter too by your father. You had said that ‘okay, that makes us even then’, but you still thought that your level of being spoiled was no match to his.

Despite that, Jeongguk never appeared to be arrogant or entitled. He was raised well by his family who were the first to get a taste on how to slowly rise up to power by working diligently and then getting the eventual desired result. From what Jeongguk told you on the intimate nights you have shared before, his father introduced him to their business at a young age and taught him everything necessary to know, his knowledge increasing the same time his age did in due course. He studied overseas for college at the Don’s wishes, returned after he finished and got his degree, and met you officially a few months later when he entered your home with Inhwan. Since then and since you pursued a relationship with him, Jeongguk has never been anything but lovely. It caused you suspicion at first for you didn’t believe that a man your age could be that mature and that understanding, but Jeongguk was simply ‘built different’ that you later on went along with the fact that he was just truly extraordinary.

When the last four days of the honeymoon came in, business related calls were disturbing you and Jeongguk at random hours of the day. You had an associate you worked on a case with who was studying and running errands for you for the meantime, a minor real estate case that was going to have its first hearing in a month, and the topic he usually brought up when he continuously called or messaged you. Jeongguk, on the other hand, seemingly had more pressing issues with JSG; he was the President of the company after all.

You peeked out on the balcony where Jeongguk just answered a call. “Guk? The car we booked to that dining place just arrived. The driver’s already in the lobby.”

He glanced at you. His face was serious and he raised a hand up, a signal to ask you if you would wait. You nodded and pretended to let him mind his own business while you checked your purse if you’ve forgotten anything—you said pretended because even though you were doing all that, you stole subtle glances at his direction, his back facing you and the only view you had the opportunity to see through the glass door. However, his arm movements were still discernible and at the instance he suddenly brought a hand on top of his hair, distressed, head nodding vigorously, you were positive that he just received some kind of bad news.

You no longer hid how you were staring at him; you paused whatever it was that you were being busy with and waited until Jeongguk finished the call. As he did, he didn’t even bother putting his phone back in his pocket; he just raised the hand that was holding it to accompany the other one already on his hair before sitting down on the sun lounger with a motion that came out like he slipped. You didn’t think twice about marching out to talk to him.

“Hey,” you gently touched his back, “who was that? Anything wrong?”

Jeongguk looked up and your worry escalated when you got a glimpse of his tear-filled eyes. “He passed on, ____. Grandpop—he didn’t… he got another stroke and—Pop said he didn’t make it this time.”

“Oh my god—Guk, I’m so sorry.” You automatically engulfed him in an embrace and Jeongguk fully let himself cry in what felt like frustration, his face turning towards your neck where you felt his tears dampen your skin. You whispered words of comfort as he sobbed, rubbed his back and carressed the back of his head; Jeongguk showed you a newfound kind of vulnerability at the knowledge that his grandfather was no longer alive and made it apparent that you were going to be here for him and that everything was going to be okay.

You didn’t know the true impact of it—but the death of Don Jungsoo was definitely the last thing any member of the Jeon Family wanted, which meant unlike what you were murmuring, everything was not going to be okay.

━ CHAPTER V.

The trick with the wedding worked. Seokjin informed Jeongguk before he got in the car to the venue of the reception that there were for sure spies sent from the other prominent Seoul Families to oversee the ceremony. By that time, the associates would have already informed their Caporegimes and the Caporegimes would have already informed the underboss as well who would have relayed the message to their respective Dons. Jeongguk was glad to hear that, thankful that at least their efforts of arranging everything and marrying you quite early on than what both of you preferred didn't go to waste.

For the first week of the honeymoon, at early dawn when he woke up before you would, he’d shared a call with either Seokjin or his father. They included him in all business related transactions and heard his side to forward it with the Don when they discussed it with him. Don Jungsoo only approved or declined any plans they had or prepositions from other people they received, then Hanseo acted his demands out as the active underboss. Don Jungsoo was going to retire soon, the Godfather established it when he was restored to health, and wanted Hanseo and especially Jeongguk to be more concerned with the business now that he was a few steps away from officially handing over the business.

Though upon the Don’s sudden yet still foreseeable death, despite how they’ve been preparing for something as terrible as this to fall to the Jeon Family, Hanseo was still shaken to be deemed as the new Don of the clan and be the head of their syndicate. Even if he saw himself as adequate and intelligent enough for the position, Hanseo knew he wasn’t as great as the late Don Jungsoo to live up to his father’s shoes. Perhaps his son, Jeongguk, was more fit for it than he was ever going to be, but he wasn’t sure if he wanted to bestow such responsibility unless Jeongguk was given no choice. For now, Hanseo had to do extremely good on his reign and prove to the members that he was deserving to be the Godfather.

Ultimately, Jeongguk took the death of his grandfather more badly than he thought. He was still rational and handled it the way Don Jungsoo would have wanted him to; however deep inside, there was a fire of hatred and anger burning inside of him that he only released in sessions at the gym where he boxed his frustration out, upset that Don Jungsoo’s passing had to happen when he was having the time of his life with you. He didn’t regret the honeymoon or wished that he had done anything differently in the last few weeks—it was just he didn’t understand why an unfortunate incident had to fall upon his Family when he thought things were beginning to go back to the way they were.

Jeongguk remembered how Don Jungsoo didn’t like the plan with the publicity stunt at the wedding when Hanseo informed him. He shook his head profusely, saying then that weddings are intimate ceremonies and should not be mixed with business; he said that he didn’t want his grandson to get married out of the blue just so they can show off his (then) improving health to the other Families.

“I was intending to marry ____ soon anyways, Grandpop,” Jeongguk reasoned. “Why not hit two birds with one stone?”

“You are?” Don Jungsoo mused. “You’re not saying that just to appease me?”

“It’s true,” Seokjin vouched for Jeongguk. “Guk’s been thinking about it even before we were planning this.”

The Don snorted and smiled, the first since a while. “Well, it’s about time. You need a woman like that in your life, Jeongguk. You don’t meet a lot of her kind these days.”

“I agree.” Jeongguk chuckled. “So, we’ll go forth with it, won’t we?”

The Don shrugged. “All I have to do is to not look sickly, don’t I?”

“Which I’m sure you’ll do fine, Pop,” Hanseo assured himself more than he did to Don Jungsoo. “Dr. Hwang said you’re improving. We’re going to plan the wedding and hold it as early as we can too.”

“Alright. Tell Inhwan not to spend a dime on his daughter’s wedding. I’m willing to pay for all the expenses.”

“That includes my share too, right?” Hanseo joked and the Don cracked another smile.

It did go on to be successful as they hoped. The Three Families that stood along them—the Lee Family, Yang Family, and Park Family—got the message that Don Jungsoo was well and managed to attend his grandson’s wedding in a great state. Operations continued to be quiet and the waging tension within the Mafia faltered as no one no longer questioned the health of Don Jungsoo, thus seeing the Jeon Family as credible once again. Of course, it wouldn’t have been too long as well before they all of the sudden hear the revelation that the same healthy man they were told about suffered a stroke while sleeping and no longer woke up.

“Let’s book the next flight back to Seoul,” you said after minutes of just holding Jeongguk in your arms. He was sobbing, his nose running and his head already thumping because of how hard he has been pouring his emotions out.

Jeongguk cried like a kid and he hated it whenever he did. It was not something he had control of though and he was just thankful that it was only you who had the chance to see him that way when he broke down after being called and notified by Hanseo. “Not yet,” Jeongguk replied, “I’ll, I’ll have to… I’ll have to call—”

“I’ll do it,” you finished for him, stroking his hair one last time and standing up to go back inside the room and get your phone.

He held your wrist; he looked a little disoriented to form his thoughts properly and his cheeks were still wet, his eyes glassy from sobbing. “No, ____, it’s best if—”

“I’m going to call my dad and he’ll be in charge of our flight back,” you cut him off again. “Or would you want me to call Seokjin instead?”

He stared at you, puzzled for a millisecond, but he was always under the impression that you already had an idea of what he and the Family truly did. You just didn’t confront him about it or made it too apparent that you knew something that wasn't intended to be known yet. Well, at least, not yet, you didn’t. “That would be better,” he affirmed your last statement. “But you should use my phone. This phone.”

You nodded and got the phone from his grasp before doing as said. Jeongguk was transparent to you early on that he used two phones; he used one for personal matters and the others for business affairs. Your number was on both devices.

Seokjin indeed handled yours and Jeongguk’s safe flight back. As you both arrived at the Jeon Residential Area—the place where the houses of the Don, Hanseo, Seokjin, and yours and Jeongguk’s were already built along with the other vacant ones intended for guests—there were a large number of men waiting for both of your arrival. Seokjin was there by the gate, a phone in his hand, talking to somebody else, though when he spotted the two of you getting out of the car, he rushed to end the call and walked towards Jeongguk, embracing the younger boy tightly with only one arm while he used the other to reach for you as well.

“I’m sorry the honeymoon was cut short,” Seokjin said.

“Jin, don’t be ridiculous, that shouldn’t be something to apologize for,” you answered.

“Grandma’s been crying for hours,” Seokjin said again, this time more to Jeongguk, “you two should go ahead and make your presence known.”

“You should go ahead, angel.” Jeongguk rubbed your back. “I’ll just talk to Jin for a bit.”

You nodded and walked to the front steps of the door. Once you entered and was out of earshot, Jeongguk turned back to his adoptive brother who had a melancholic expression. Seokjin’s eyes were a bit puffy and when he talked earlier, his voice was hoarse, meaning that like Jeongguk, he had been mourning over the death of the Don.

“Where’s Grandpop now?”

“At the mortuary. Your dad’s there with him and Inhwan and some members of his regime. They’ll be bringing him back in an hour or so or whatever how long it takes to get the old man ready. We’ll be holding the wake here in the house and they’re already preparing the space for it, some people are already cleaning it—the garden, that’s where it’ll be, yeah.” Seokjin appeared as disoriented as Jeongguk was in Jeju Island. “You have a cigarette, Guk?” he abruptly asked.

Jeongguk sighed at him. “No. I already quit, remember? I thought you did too.”

“Yeah, but I really need a smoke right now. All of this is making me crazy.” He sighed and glanced at some of the men who were nearby to where they were standing, one of them taking something from inside their jacket to reveal a cigarette box, Seokjin dashing to the guy and getting a stick, placing it between his lips and letting the soldier light it up for him. Returning next to Jeongguk again, he puffed out a smoke with a relieved breath. “Don’t tell my wife about this,” he told him.

Jeongguk grimaced. “I don’t need to. She’d smell it on you immediately. And seriously, Jin, you were doing well on not lighting a single cigarette for over a year.”

“Just one and I promise, I’ll stop,” Seokjin said and began speaking again, his previous sentence not taken seriously by himself. “I’m going to arrange a meeting with all of the Don’s important and political contacts after his funeral, one by one.” Seokjin got straight to the point. It was a time for grieving supposedly, but business doesn’t stop along with everything else when something terrible happens, and so Seokjin wanted to get it out the way as soon as Jeongguk arrived. “They’re going to be talking to Hanseo—I’ll be there too, of course, and so will you—and we’re going to see if they’ll remain affiliated with our Family. It’s best if we establish that early on and be clear where we stand. Without the Don, we’ll surely be losing half of our assets if Hanseo doesn’t convince them that they’ll still be gaining something from us.” He blew out more smoke.

Jeongguk watched it get lost by the windy night. “That’s good. We should keep the business going as it always has been. No need to make it a bigger deal than it really is. I mean, it is a big deal—we just don’t make it look that way to others, don’t make it seem like we’re lost or that we even think that the business is going to be hopeless from now on. It’s common sense and the obvious response but I wanted to reiterate it to let you know.”

“I get it. We can talk about that more when Hanseo gets home with the Don. We’ll discuss it too with Inhwan at the office.” Seokjin finished the cigarette quickly and threw it on the ground, crushing it with his feet. Though living within the Jeon Residential Area and accepted as an official member of the real Jeon family, he never once called the Don ‘Grandpop’ or Hanseo as his ‘Pop’. He always placed a barrier between himself and Jeongguk’s family but strangely cared for them like he was blood-related still. When it came to Jeongguk, he treated him like a real younger brother. “How are you, kid? Before I forget to ask and force you to go follow inside the house.”

Jeongguk chuckled halfheartedly. “I’m fine. I feel like shit. But I’m fine. You?”

“Likewise.” He snorted. “I’m just wishing that we’ll pull through this as smoothly as we can.”

They went inside after the short conversation and Jeongguk’s mood further deflated at the sight of his grandma in absolute tears. His mother, Yeonjin, was comforting the old lady and you were there doing the same, serving her with a warm cup of tea to soothe and calm her with Seokjin’s wife. Seokjin went to the kitchen to grab a mint and Jeongguk approached you four sat on the couch, going beside his grandmother and embracing her. He listened to her stories of distress, of how she loved the Don and has never loved another man in her whole life besides him. She said that though it hurt to have him leave earlier, she was glad that Don Jungsoo had passed in a peaceful death—in his sleep, and not by any means of violence, to which Jeongguk agreed to with a nod.

By 2:07 AM, Jeongguk’s uncles had arrived and they’ve taken his place beside the grieving wife of the Don who still couldn’t sleep until Don Jungsoo’s body and casket was placed at the garden and properly arranged. Jeongguk excused himself after giving his greetings to his uncles and subtly searched the house for you; he last seen you go upstairs where the bedrooms were with Yeonjin, and peeking at each one when he went upstairs to look harder, he saw you at one of the guest rooms, laying on the mattress though he was fast to notice that you had your eyes wide open to assume you were already sleeping.

He entered and purposely made enough noise to have you acknowledge him, and you did with a snap of your head to his direction, your eyes softening the second your gazes met. “Hey,” you said.

“Why aren’t you asleep?” He walked to the side of the bed where you were at. “Our luggages are back at our house, just so you know. We’d have to unpack but we can do that in the morning. The master’s bedroom is already ready though; you can sleep there for the night if you find it uncomfortable here.”

You slowly sat up and leaned back at the headboard. Jeongguk perched close to you and grabbed a hold of your hand on your stomach. “Aren’t you tired?” you questioned.

“I am.” He pressed his mouth together. “But I want to wait until they bring home Grandpop though. You should go to sleep, angel.”

“Why don’t you take a nap and I’ll wake you up when someone comes and finds you?”

“I think we both know better than to assume I’ll be waking up that easily with a nap.”

You chuckled. “I’ll kick you off the bed then if I have to.”

“I’ll wait with the others,” he said with a smile. “Besides, I haven’t talked to Pop in person. Haven’t seen Grandpop again either. I don’t want to wait too long for that.”

You nodded and fondled with his fingers. “Well, can you at least lay with me? For five minutes?”

Jeongguk chuckled, poking his tongue on his cheek before it was his turn to nod slowly, gesturing for you to move and give space for him. “For just five minutes.”

He laid down and wrapped an arm around your shoulders while you hugged his torso and pressed your cheek against his chest. You heard his fast beating heart, heard each breath he took, and the both of you said nothing for a short time. Jeonggguk ran his thumb up and down your arm and you played with the fabric of his shirt, the silence comforting yet daunting in an odd way for Jeongguk who abruptly thought of your actions back at the suite in Jeju. At that second, he was thinking if he should begin introducing the concept of the business to you—just a snippet of it—a vague description that would give you an answer but a lacking one for the events that would come. He could never explain the whole thing to you, the Cosa Nostra, unless it was the most ideal thing to do anyways; he stuck by their code and even if he didn’t, he didn’t want to stress you with the knowledge of what his Family did.

You managed to fall asleep in his arms and Jeongguk gently moved you to a better position on the bed before he kissed your temple, tucked you in, and left the room to go downstairs. It was 3:39 AM and he was sure that they were already arranging Don Jungsoo’s wake at the garden. His ears caught the engines of vehicles and the slams of the doors, followed by incoherent chatter and clicks of glasses that no doubt were shared by Caporegimes who fled from their territory to visit the Godfather.

“Guk,” Hanseo said when Jeongguk appeared from the staircase, “I’m glad that you’re here.” He was holding a glass of whiskey in another hand, eyes bloodshot and face looking older.

Jeongguk frowned as he walked towards him. “How are you, Pop?”

“We’re on our own now, Guk.” He ignored the question and clasped a hand on Jeongguk’s opposite shoulder. “I’m counting on you the most starting from now on. You got that? We have to keep the business running steady now that Pop’s gone.”

“Don’t worry,” he sighed, “we’ll sort it out.”

“I know, I know, of course, I do.” He drank the entirety of the glass in one gulp. “You’re my underboss now, kid. You’ve always been a strength in the Family—now I need you to divide your regime, your soldatos, to other factions—you’re going to be more hands on in this than you ever were.”

“Alright.” Jeongguk agreed. “I’ll do anything you want me to do. For now, you should stop drinking. You don’t want to get too drunk to entertain the soldatos and the guests that’ll go here. We have to talk too with Seokjin and Inhwan later.”

Hanseo nodded rapidly and to prove that he wasn’t going to drink more, placed the glass down on one of the tables in the living room with a rather loud thud. Jeongguk gave him a look but said nothing and just focused on striding to the garden where indeed the coffin of the Don was now situated. He inhaled deeply and watched the men from the funeral home organize the flowers and other necessary stands; his grandmother was also there, wiping the glass that enclosed Don Jungsoo in the casket that made approaching him harder for Jeongguk. Though when he and his grandma made contact and the old lady beckoned him to come closer like a child, he did and ashe saw him lying there, at peace and groomed in the best possible way, Jeongguk no longer found it hard to accept the reality of his passing, the thought that the Godfather deserved the long rest he had in stored now was enough to make Jeongguk feel better about it.

The wake of the late Don was attended by various personalities. The most controversial being policemen, judges, lawyers, prosecutors, and even politicians. Of course, the Dons of the other Three Families paid their respects as well, personally coming to the Jeon Residential Area and even going to the funeral afterwards when it was held a week after it. During that period, Jeongguk discussed with Hanseo and Seokjin repeatedly, sometimes including Inhwan at the meeting too. They handled everything needed to be addressed about the business; they went with what Seokjin said prior, which was talking with the contacts of Don Jungsoo and ensuring that their affiliation remained with the Jeon Family. Majority of them guaranteed that they’ll be honoring their friendship with the Don even after his death and that it can be counted on that their loyalty will still stand with their clan; the little others left though asked for understanding and some time to think about it for some organizations have also begun negotiating with them.

“It’s the Lee Family,” Hanseo said, sitting on the leather chair inside the office of Don Jungsoo; it felt strange to see him over there instead of his grandfather, Jeongguk thought, “they’re hoarding as much as they can. They’re trying to bring themselves to the top again. They even took the bait of Jang Yeocheol’s casino plans that Don Jungsoo didn’t want to take part in.”

“It’ll bring them more money, that’s why,” Seokjin said. “The casino will be used for narcotic operations. They’ve agreed to finance Yeocheol’s business and even pledged to protect him from the authorities with their legal contacts. It’s a logical route to go. Drugs are the leading commerce now, it’s being introduced in South Korea further; however, it’s the kind of filth Don Jungsoo didn’t want us to go with. He was already aggravated with the strip joints and all that when we caved into prosititution—drugs was the last thing he wanted to have associated with our Family.”

“Yeocheol will certainly want to talk to you again, Pop. He’ll want to restate and propose that we invest in him once more now that you’re the new Don. He’ll be hoping that you won’t have the same mindset as Grandpop and accept his offer this time,” Jeongguk told Hanseo.

“I wouldn’t want to go against one of my father’s last decisions.” Hanseo leaned back on his chair and sighed. “If Yeocheol arranges a meeting, we’ll entertain him, out of respect and courtesy. Ask a few questions too that we didn't get to ask last time for it was Pop leading. But we won’t dive into the business of narcotics, that’s already for sure. Do you have any objections about that, Consigliere?” He nodded at Seokjin.

“I’ll be honest,” Seokjin started off, “if it was Don Jungsoo who was about to get offered with it again, I would have said yes at this instance. Like I mentioned, drugs are the leading commerce these days, and I genuinely think it’d be good for us if we take a shot at it while it’s still slowly booming in the country.”

“But I’m not my father,” Hanseo supplied Seokjin’s reasoning early on and Seokjin nodded.

“You’re not, and we’re still at risk of losing some of our contacts and our legal defenses—one of them is even part of the Supreme Court and two are senior prosecutors. What Yeocheol wanted from us was legal protection, that was his main target, given Don Jungsoo’s connections and his power. So without that, I can only guess that his offer won’t be as grand as the last one. He’ll try to maybe it a little higher so we’ll bite, but the determining factor on how much we will gain from this is how much we will invest in the business still. Of course, there’s nothing wrong with that—it’s just that are we going to be comfortable with the fact that the Lee Family is going to gain more from it than we will?”

“I’ll go with you when he asks for another meeting,” Jeongguk said to Hanseo. “I’d like to hear his offers face to face again.”

“What happens when the offer’s good then? Do you think we should go for it?” Hanseo asked him.

Jeongguk shrugged. “I doubt it will be significantly better, or I at least doubt it’ll be better than the Lee’s. We’re going to be second in his priority list with that Family in the picture. But with the question of whether we should go for it or not, I’d like to reckon that we should. Let’s not involve ourselves with the operations though, it will be too risky for us, considering our state at the moment, but perhaps we should focus more on financing and a bit of what we could do for legal protection as an initial contribution to his business. Then we can see where it’ll take us or maybe we’ll just stick to that initial contribution, to honor what Grandpop’s would have wanted.”

Seokjin and Hanseo shared a look; the both of them were thinking of the same thing, Jeongguk had the same rationality, practicality, and leniency as his late grandfather. The way he even enlightened them with what he thought held the same aura as Don Jungsoo. “Okay,” Hanseo showed his approval with a raise of his eyebrows, “it’s time for us to wait for their move then.” He concluded their discussion at that note.

Another week passed and Seokjin received a call from Yeocheol himself, the man asking if he could arrange a meeting with the new Don of the Jeon Family just like what Jeongguk had predicted. Seokjin told him that he will contact him again after he forwards the message to Hanseo and within the next two days, the appointment was made to happen, Hanseo, Seokjin, and Jeongguk present at the private room inside a restaurant that Yeocheol booked for the occasion. There they discussed about the business, what Yeocheol wanted, what the Jeon Family would do and get if they partake in it, and at the end, Hanseo still declined as what Don Jungsoo did—the only difference was that Don Jungsoo was better with his words and better at appeasing the person he’s breaking the news on that the Jeon Family will not meddle with their affairs.

In Hanseo’s case, he didn’t possess that kind of ability, didn’t have a smooth tongue or the charm to win the favor of the opposing party despite his decision, and so when they left the venue, Yeocheol was mad and contacted the Consigliere of the Lee Family. He was going to make Hanseo regret his choice and withdraw it.

━ CHAPTER VI.

RMEC Law Firm was recognized to be one of the best law firms in the state. It garnered clients with high ranks in your society and housed lawyers at the top of their game, including you who was appointed as an associate in the two years you’ve been lending your service to the company. Don Jungsoo asked Seokjin to endorse you to the Chairman after you passed the bar exam and Mr. Kim, the mentioned Chairman, in respect and with the aim to give back to the Don’s generosity for what the latter has done to him before, gladly took you in and played a big part in boosting the early stage of your career by assigning you to their uppermost clients.

You have been so grateful to Don Jungsoo, you expressed your thanks by sending flowers that he liked to his main office and boxes stocke bread that he liked to share with his men, and it was well appreciated by the Don as Jeongguk told you when the both of you saw each other that very day, saying that the Don was glad to see such a gesture from you.

Now, it has been almost two months since Don Jungsoo’s death; things were going back to normal but at the same time, going off to another direction. His family no longer looked disheartened or grieved so openly like they did on the first days of his passing; they were more focused on maintaining the JSG Group’s reputation and business to still be caught up with their own personal stress of losing a loved one. From your husband’s words when you asked if he was truly fine, the Don would have wanted them to move on quickly and get on with life rather than mourn never endingly—so that is what they were doing.

Three knocks on the door to your office made you look up from the papers you were reading and when you did, your gaze fell on Jeongguk who had a hand on the handle and a handsome smile on his features. You returned the smile and marked the last page you were scanning before standing up to meet him halfway.

“You didn’t say you were going to visit,” you said with a chuckle, Jeongguk placing a paper bag on the long table you had in your space before stretching his arms out.

“If I did, it wouldn’t be a surprise.” He embraced you and kissed you swiftly on the lips.

“Still, a warning would have been nice.”

Another kiss and he leaned away after, you instinctively glanced at the glass windows to check if anyone was there snooping. You had learned it the hard way when a couple of associates saw Jeongguk burying his head on your neck in mid-make out session and biting along your clavicle when he visited you in the past; that act of his became a hot topic for a solid month—how the extremely attractive and rich fiancé then of ____ was close to eating her alive in her office.

However, that wasn’t the reason why you were cautious at the moment. Aside from the teasing that you received from your co-workers when they heard the rather spicy incident, there were also questions that arose that time that made you uncomfortable and a little worried for they were clearly said with malicious intent about Jeongguk’s family.

“Is it true that he’s the grandson of the mobster?” a female junior associate of the firm asked you, bumping elbows with you while all of you waited for the President to arrive at the conference room. It was the perfect moment to bring such a topic up as all of the lawyers were there to curiously listen.

“He’s probably a part of it too.” Another one, a male and a few years older, reckoned with a chuckle. “It’s a family business when it comes to those things.”

They looked at you to wait for an answer but you only pressed your mouth together, an action that meant you were clearly going to keep your lips sealed and not give them the satisfaction of biting back. You were still considered a rookie within the respected lawyers sitting with you at the long table and therefore didn’t want to cause any fuss on your part.

“His family runs JSG Group, a shareholder of this law firm,” Namjoon, the son of the Chairman who also worked as an attorney in the firm, piped in nonchalantly in behalf of you and you turned your eyes on him along with the others there, “and I don’t think it’s good to conspire and gossip against a member of a major shareholder, Mr. Oh.”

“We’re not conspiring, Namjoon. We’re just joking and bantering here. Aren’t we, ____? Mobsters aren’t a thing now anyways. This isn’t the 1950s. It’s not like the Mafia is still here.” The former man grinned at you as if you were good friends.

You didn’t answer again; you just kept on staring at him with a blank face until he grew disturbed and was looking at the woman earlier for a supporting comment. She didn’t say anything too though, and the two of them settled uncomfortably on their seats and feigned innocence as they brought another topic to the table.

You smiled at Namjoon in thanks and he gave you a small nod, resuming his skimming on the folder in front of him. He was untouchable because of his position and influence in the company; you were glad that he was your senior when you were only interning in the firm.

In regards to what your two co-workers mentioned about Jeongguk’s family business, you decided not to concern yourself with it further by searching for answers. They didn’t try poking you around with their ill-natured remarks after the incident at the conference room; they left you alone pretty much the following weeks, avoiding you like the plague but you couldn’t care less to wonder why their approach to you drastically shifted. Deep down though, you were assuming that it had something to do with their stunt reaching the Jeon Family, particularly Jeongguk who might have heard what happened through Namjoon as they were friends themselves.

You already had an idea that the reason why Don Jungsoo was so respected and acclaimed was because of something related to that kind of occupation or involvement with affairs that weren’t exactly clean business; it explained why their family a lot of enemies, why a lot feared them, why majority sought for the day that Don Jungsoo’s empire would fall. That’s why you kept a safe distance from it all as well—because you didn’t know how you would react when you do confront Jeongguk about it and he verifies your theories. Just like what’s been happening since the late Don’s death; you were aware that something was going on within the business due to Jeongguk’s frequent bad moods and his late night departures. He has been busy for the past weeks and has been stuck with his father or Seokjin most of the time too—you noticed and acknowledged all of that but didn’t say a word about it. You’ve been in this kind of phase with your dad, wherein you wondered and got worried all the time, so you had a clue or two on how to live with it with forced ease and ignorance.

Jeongguk followed your glances at the windows and smirked. “Paranoid that someone will catch us again?”

You went back to him and snorted. “You really know how to read my mind.” You proceeded on walking to the paper bag where there were small boxes of take-out from your favorite dining place. “What’s with the surprise visit though?”

“Can’t a husband surprise his wife at work?” He snatched another kiss, on your cheek instead, and helped you in unpacking.

You gave him a look of teasing doubt, causing him to chuckle. Jeongguk was always sweet and loving, but he wasn’t one to think of surprises or gestures of affection like this for you to believe him.

“What’s with that look?” he exclaimed with a laugh.

“Oh, you know what this look means, sweetheart.”

He rolled his eyes, surrendering then. “Fine. I know I’ve been absent, alright?” he explained. “I just wanna make it up to you.”

You smiled. “That’s very sweet of you, Guk, but you do know that I understand that things have been busy right? You don’t have to force yourself to do these things just because of guilt.”

“They’re not just because of guilt, silly. I’ve been missing you too. I came here because I wanted to see you.”

Your smile widened to a grin. “So, does that mean you’ll be joining me here? You’ll eat this lunch with me?” You were hopeful now but he frowned right away. He has been absent a lot. You’ve spent many nights being able to fall asleep on the bed and not have him beside you.

“Uh, not now,” he sighed as he gave you the direct answer, “later though, I promise. I’ll join you for dinner—I’ll even cook for dinner and then you can have me all night.”

“Is that for real this time? You won’t run away while I’m taking your pants off because someone called?” You reminded him of what happened the other day when you two were heading to business and then he abruptly left you to take care of matters concerning the company.

“Yes, I won’t bail on you tonight.” He moved behind you, hugging you from there and encircling his arms around your waist. “Pop’s heading somewhere too and Seokjin has the same plans as I do, which is to obviously woo the wife. So, I swear, you’ll have me as much as you want, angel.”

You laughed, swiftly kissing his exposed cheek as he laid his chin on your shoulder. “Good. Also, now that you mentioned it, I think Dad’s going to be with Pop. I invited him for dinner first since he kept on saying he was feeling lonely with me not always in the house anymore but then he said he had plans tonight.”

“Dad has been guilt tripping me about that too.” Jeongguk chuckled. “He said that since I took his daughter away, he’s starting to know more about the rooms of the villa. Has he told you that he’s turning one of the guest rooms to a home bar?”

“Wow. He decides to do that the second I move out, huh?”

“It’s a fun concept. Just wish he had done it too when I had more reasons to go there.”

You snorted and Jeongguk grinned.

As you finished placing the take-out on the table and opening all the containers, Jeongguk made it known again that he wouldn’t be able to stay long and that he had to go; he had a meeting with a potential investor, he said, though he added as well that your dinners plan with him later will still go according to plan like he promised. You nodded and he gave you a long kiss on the mouth and on the forehead as an apology for going out so soon before leaving you alone to eat the delicious lunch he bought for you, which didn’t seem as appetizing as it usually was without Jeongguk to share it with.

At 7:31 PM, you were driven home to the Jeon Residential Area by your chauffeur. Arriving at the huge gate that secured the premises, you took note of the seemingly hundreds of men hired to guard the whole sector while the vehicle you were riding passed through. They doubled the security four days ago for a reason you didn’t know—and you didn’t ask, just mentioned it casually one time as a way of saying that you found it still concerning despite your indifference; Jeongguk assured you that it was nothing to worry about and it was just—as he always says—a precaution.

You thanked your driver as he parked in front of your home with your husband and bid your good night, hopping out and walking towards the front door. The car only left when you had closed the door and were taking your shoes off, the smell of familiar home cooked food blessing your nostrils that you hurriedly went to the kitchen to see what it was. You were definitely surprised to see Jeongguk behind the stove with an apron on the moment you stepped in, and you remembered a part of his promise where he claimed he was going to cook dinner for the two of you tonight.

“You really are cooking,” you said with an amused huff.

He lifted his gaze up and placed his spoon down. “Correction, I cooked. Past tense. I’m already done. You’re right in time.”

“Is it any good?” you teased; you marched forward to give him a kiss of greeting on the lips which he happily obliged to.

“Of course, it is. You insult me, angel.”

“I was kidding.” You swayed your hip towards his to set him off balance.

He chuckled and pinched your side as a payback that you whined at before he nodded to the dining table and turned off the stove. “Let’s set up the table and eat.”

“Okay.”

Among the other things that Jeongguk hasn’t been doing because of the past busy month was cooking, and it was because of that reason too why having dinner with the food he just cooked made the night a special one compared to the others in a while. He truly cooked better than you and was more useful in the kitchen. You were sure of that because unlike you, he grew up with a mother and a grandmother who taught him all the basics and guided him with the recipes he knew of today. You, on the other hand, mostly relied on YouTube video tutorials and did a lot of trials and errors on your own. It wasn’t until you and Jeongguk were getting serious that you began learning from Yeonjin to be a better cook yourself.

“What do we have for dessert?” you asked after swallowing your last spoonful of rice. What he prepared was delicious and fulfilling that you’ve been going on about how good it was while you ate, your husband’s ears reddening at the endless compliments. Not one to draw attention to himself for a long time though when it came to you, he’d ask you more about your day and open random subjects to get out of the limelight.

Jeongguk glanced at you; he still wasn’t done eating. “Each other.”

You kicked him under the table and he almost choked, startled. “You’re ruining my mood for good food, sweetheart.”

“Am I not good food?”

“You’re not even food.”

“Okay, I’ll rephrase that—am I not good to eat?”

You snickered and continued staring at him, the grin on your face remaining. He really was the most ridiculous man you have ever met sometimes. It was one of the qualities you loved most about him too though.

“There’s ice cream on the fridge,” he added shortly with a laugh and you thanked him immediately, standing up to get yourselves some mugs so you can start scooping for the both of you. He was in the middle of drinking water when the doorbell rang multiple times, sort of like in a frenzy, and he placed the glass down to attend to it. “I’ll get that.”

You watched him leave his chair and you went back to your quest. It was probably Seokjin who was ringing the doorbell at this time of the night, you thought, as he was the only one present in the Jeon Residential Area like you and Jeongguk were. This kind of circumstance happened frequently anyways that you didn’t even bat an eye as the sound of the doorbell echoed inside the house, you just assumed that it was his brother who wanted to talk to him urgently about god knows what. Though you can’t lie and say that you didn’t find the frantic doorbell ringing didn’t put you off guard even a little bit.

You were glad actually to have someone as close as Seokjin within the compound. It enabled impromptu lunch double dates with his wife who you were getting close with since you got engaged to Jeongguk. She was a beautiful and nice lady, only three years older than you were; she worked as a preschool teacher in a nearby school, which you praised her for because you don’t think you’d have the same exact patience as her when it came to kids to tolerate a job like hers.

“That son of a bitch!”

The ice cream scooper you held fell on the sink where you were washing it because of Jeongguk’s sudden booming voice and shout of profanity. You froze for exactly two seconds, time moving slowly, your heartbeat quickening, and with the wariness that was beginning to erupt in your system because of what you heard, you headed to the hallway where the front door was to see what the commotion was all about.

There you saw Seokjin hissing at Jeongguk, his hands firmly gripping his shoulders, his words inaudible and incoherent from the distance between you and the two of them; as you made your presence known, Seokjin’s eyes flickered to you and his eyes softened for a quick second, a look of downcast falling on his features.

“Hey, Jin,” you started it off casually, your voice unconsciously quivering at the nerves, “I thought you were off to woo the wife?”

Seokjin stared at you in a manner that you didn’t like. It screamed pity and guilt and sadness and the next thing you know, he was turning away from you in frustration, his hands on his hips as he faced the other side of the front door that was still open. You snapped your gaze to Jeongguk then and he was approaching you, his eyes glassy and stern; in each step he took, your heart dropped lower and lower, the uncertainty and the possibilities of what might have happened supplying frightening thoughts in your mind. It all came to a stop when Jeongguk carefully held both of your cheeks, his thumb rubbing your skin gently as if you were this fragile being.

“Guk,” you gritted your teeth, the anxiety was bubbling up too fast for you to handle; you’ve just been enjoying dinner with him, what have possibly gone wrong for the mood to shift like this? “what is it? Is everything alright?”

“Angel, listen hard, okay? I don’t want to repeat it again,” he said in almost like a hushed mumble. He knitted his eyebrows together, his tears piling up further—were they in sadness or anger? You weren’t so sure yet. “Pop and Dad got shot. We don’t have a definite lead on who might have caused it and now they’re in the hospital. But ____, Dad… your father… he didn’t—they couldn’t do anything anymore.”

Your heart was sent crashing down, you even think that you heard them shatter to pieces. His words entered your ears effectively but they weren’t processing well. You felt sick all of the sudden and your head was starting to hurt at this overwhelming want to sob, your eyes welling up. “What?”

Jeongguk gulped, his palms moving from your cheeks to your hair in an attempt to caress you in comfort. “He didn’t make it, angel. When they arrived at the scene, there was no pulse.”

“What? That can’t be true.”

“They did everything they could.”

“No,” you held on to his wrists, pushing him back, but he was strong and so he stayed holding you, “no, no, no, Guk—what? He can’t be—that’s not possible—it can’t be. I was just talking to him earlier—I even sent him a text while I was being driven home—” you were starting to hyperventilate, your tears running down. Jeongguk pulled you to his chest; you were thrashing and you were sobbing uncontrollably, the reality in which your father was dead was sinking in and causing your temples to ache further— “no, he can’t be—whoever told you that—it’s bullshit!” You looked up at Jeongguk, the way you looked at him was pleading, in defeat; your gaze was telling him that you wanted him to tell you the opposite, you wanted him to assure you that Inhwan was still alive. “Tell Seokjin—whoever it was that said, that said that—that said that Dad is dead—is a liar!”

He only stared at you in return, his own tears falling on his face. Inhwan was a prominent figure in his life as well, and to say that he was devastated and angry by the news would be an understatement. The sight of hum crying with you made you sob harder, his expression of loss and regret; it made your knees weak and your surroundings ringing deafeningly that caused Jeongguk to carry you in his arms better—it was getting impossible to breathe then and your vision was turning crucially blurry.

“I’m sorry,” Jeongguk whispered, embracing you tight, letting you sob hard on his chest, “I’m so sorry, angel. I’m so sorry.”

Before you could even think of replying, to demand an answer from him why he was apologizing, you passed out in shock of the overwhelming events, and Jeongguk caught you quickly, shouting at Seokjin who rushed back inside to get you. Together they carried you to the living room sofa, Jeongguk ordering Seokjin to get a glass of water while Jeongguk called Yeonjin if she could come to your household and take care of you. His mother agreed, already aware of the unfortunate event, and after they said their assuring words to each other, Jeongguk hung up and waited until you woke up.

As you did, your eyes blinking and brimming with tears once more, he kissed your forehead and stroked your hair. “I’m going to take care of this,” he said in a promise. You were coming back to your senses and you were remembering what your father suffered from. “I’ll handle this. I’ll find out who did it and, and—I’ll kill the bastard myself.”

You were still groggy and disoriented but you understood his statement perfectly. You gazed at your husband and saw now a new guise being shown on his face; it was familiar and foreign all at the same time. You’ve seen him aggravated before, have seen him being so frustrated when things didn’t go his way—but this right here… this dangerous and angry bearing he had, it was a totally different expression that you haven’t had the chance to see in the past decade of knowing him. It scared you and it urged you to think about Jeongguk’s well-being more than the horrible news earlier for a split second. “Jeongguk…” you whimpered.

“I’ll kill him.” His jaw was clenched. “I’ll make him regret what he did, angel. I promise.”

“Guk…” you breathed out and tugged on his forearm. He looked at your grip and allowed you to pull him towards you, to wrap your arms around his neck to cry some more. He sighed against your neck, whispered his apologies over and over again though with no explanations why, and when you decided to finally respond to what he was telling you, Jeongguk stiffened in surprise, not expecting that you would request such a thing, especially at your state, but who was he to judge and deprive you of the opportunity? So, nodding and kissing your cheek, he agreed.

You just told him you wanted to kill the man who did the shooting incident that led to your father’s death yourself, and indeed that was going to be what Jeongguk would enable you to do.

━ CHAPTER VII.

The bastard’s name was Lim Sehyung, a man who was an associate for the Lee Family. He was known to be precise and attentive to what is being asked of him by the Caporegime he was under, and for his latest assignment, he was to shoot the Don of the Jeon Family as a threat from the Lee clan that meant Yeocheol, who was under their wing, meant serious business.

To do that successfully, he followed the pattern of Hanseo’s whereabouts, he bribed a dishonest Mafioso within the Jeon clan, and offered the person more money if he gave the information that Sehyung needed. In only two weeks after his Caporegime told him of what he needed to do, he executed and met the unsuspecting Don Hanseo while he was leaving a restaurant with his Caporegime, Inhwan. He shot the Boss three times, all in the parts that wouldn’t be fatal because his death was not what the Lee Family wanted yet, but he wasn’t as merciful to Inhwan who he showered with bullets and who fiercely fought back, shooting even the latter’s forehead for a safety measure.

Within the two weeks after he committed the crime as well, the same Mafioso he bribed would be forced to reveal Sehyung’s identity as the soldato of the Lee clan who did such a terrible act—the said mafioso was beaten until he spilled the beans when Seokjin received the tip that he was was the one who sent the details of Hanseo’s frequent whereabouts to Sehyung, and when he did confirm that he was the one who betrayed his Family and conspired with Sehyung, in Jeongguk’s rage, he personally sliced the mafioso’s tongue off, asking Yoongi, who was the reserve Caporegime of Inhwan’s faction and was the acting one upon his captain’s death, to send the piece of muscle to Sehyung as a warning that they were aware of his doings and that he would be next. As Yoongi agreed and got to business, Jeongguk shot the mafioso with one bullet to his brain.

That was one of the few times that Jeongguk’s anger got the best of him. Because of the Lee Family’s schemes, his father was in the hospital trying to recover from his bullet wounds and his wife, you, just lost her father; to top that all of, he was now hailed as Don Jeon, the head of their syndicate with Hanseo’s bad condition and his uncle who didn’t have the wits to lead willingly giving the title to him. Jeongguk accepted the responsibility right away as soon as Seokjin informed him of the shooting, knowing that it was him who was supposed to help his late grandfather’s empire rise up again, and even that was a hard task on its own, what he found harder was breaking the news to you that night when your dad was murdered.

Inhwan was cremated after you visited his body at the morgue. Jeongguk was there with you when you did, and he took note of how you only hugged and sobbed against the lifeless body of Inhwan; you didn’t pull the sheet away from his face to look at him for one last time. When Jeongguk asked you about it as gently as he could, you told him that you didn’t want your last memory of your father to be of an unrecognizable dead man’s face who was killed without mercy.

Your answer made Jeongguk angry again though he had more control of his temper by that time and knew he had to be logical now in the steps he would be taking in the future. Amidst all the noise and the tabloids spreading more dirt about the Jeon Family because of Hanseo’s misfortune however, Jeongguk never heard one question from you about it or at least an answer why your father was involved with the mess and had received the most lethal blow. He knew then that you knew of what he did and what his Family was capable of; he guessed that he should have known anyways because of what he said on the couch the night the two men were shot and what you said in response to his proposal.

Seokjin helped you with the legalities regarding the winery. He was the one who pulled the strings and transferred all the entities to your name. It wasn’t a hard task and a big deal since you were married to the Chairman—Jeongguk was now the acting Chairman as well—so, just like that, you were appointed as the new CEO to lead the wine company.

“Guk,” you murmured to him before sleeping, two days before you would meet the man who arranged the demise of Inhwan, “promise me you’ll always be safe.”

He exhaled harshly, pressing his mouth on the corner of your lips. “I promise, angel.” It was a white lie. In the business, he could never be safe, but he would try to do better from that on just for you.

“You’re the only one I have now.” You told him that in a showcase of vulnerability and your voice trembled as you did. “I can’t afford to lose you too.”

“You won’t.” He ran his fingers through your hair, lulling you to sleep for it was only then he’s able to leave you to the care of his mother. “I’ll always be here. I won’t go anywhere. You can’t get rid of me that easily.”

You cracked a smile, though a tear also fell out of your eye in that instance and he held you in his arms again until you were truly asleep. He left you in his mother’s safe keeping, hugged and assured his mother too that everything was going to be fine, and left that night to go to his grandfather’s house where the main office for operations was still organized and discussed with his Consigliere, Seokjin.

There they devised a plan that would be soon the prominent factor of why a war between the Four Mafia Families of Seoul would commence, the infamous bloodshed making it to national television as men were found dead on the streets and institutions were burned to the ground—and alongside that plan was the objective of being the winning syndicate out of the four, the strongest Family to be glorified and recognized, a ploy that would also be successful in months to come thanks to the combined ruthlessness of Jeongguk for their enemies and Seokjin’s intelligence that contributed to their excellent strategies.

His prime concern for now was having Sehyung pay for what he did to Hanseo and to Inhwan. On early Monday morning, Jeongguk had the solution for that problem as Yoongi called him and informed that they had taken Sehyung into captivity. He was pleased and impressed that Inhwan’s reserve Caporegime was truly competent to do the job right; he told Yoongi that he would receive a great sum of money for his adequacy and relayed to him all the details on where to bring Sehyung and what to do with him for the meanwhile.

“You think ____ can do it?” Seokjin asked him a day before Sehyung’s murder. They were lounging in the office, at their grandfather’s den, having just finidhed talking to some men over the phone to carry out their plans.

“Do what?”

“Kill someone.”

“I don’t know.” Jeongguk shrugged and brought his glass of whiskey to his lips; despite his nonchalance, he was greatly worried about you. “____’s capable of anything as long as she puts her mind to it.”

“Yeah, but killing someone, Guk. That’s a whole different story and you know it.”

“I won’t force it on her. I’m just giving her what she wants—if she decides not to do it, I’ll gladly finish the job.”

“You sure she wants that? She wasn’t just acting out of her emotions that night?”

“I asked her a couple more times after that night and believe me, she’s… she really wants to do it.”

Seokjin nodded in understanding and Jeongguk, who knew where his brother was coming from, made sure you were still 100% on board with your idea on the day he was going to bring you to the warehouse where Sehyung was already beaten like a pulp, like the soldato he trusted and conspired with, already on the brink of death and the only thing keeping him from hell was the bullet you were going to shoot.

Jeongguk knew you weren’t one to be squeamish easily, but if you were to see someone being beaten and kicked over and over, pieces of their flesh flying everywhere, he wasn’t so sure if that was still going to be the case; that’s why he opted not to let you watch the bastard get beaten in front of your eyes.

“You sure you want to do this?” Jeongguk questioned as you both got out of the vehicle. The warehouse you were walking on was a favorite torture place by the Jeon Family; it was only natural that Sehyung was going to be executed here. “I’m giving you an out right now. I’ll send you home with Seokjin and I’ll do it.”

“No.” Your expression was serious but your tone was uncertain. “I need to do this.”

“You don’t need to do anything. If you’re doing this because you think Inhwan would have wanted it for you—”

“Why else would he have taught me how to use the gun?”

“For self-protection,” he replied coolly.

You glanced at him, your eyes wary and yet determined, and he held out his hand. You sighed, taking it, and he led you to the doors where a couple of his men were there along with Seokjin, Yoongi, and of course, Sehyung who was tied in a chair. Stepping past the entrance, he caught a clearer sight of the bastard’s face and saw that it was almost indescribable by how much they’ve assaulted it; from the way your hold tightens on his hand, Jeongguk knows you were seeing it too.

“You sure you want to do this?” It was Seokjin who asked you that again while he approached you two, a gun ready in his hand. “Have you ever held one of these things before, princess?” He teased you.

“What do you take me for, Jin?” You had the nerve to chuckle.

“I’m just making sure you know what you’re doing,” Seokjin said, handing the gun not to you at first, but to Jeongguk. “Can’t turn back time once it’s been done.”

“He’s right,” Jeongguk agreed. “One last time, angel. You can back out now and I’ll do it.”

“I want to do it.” You gritted your teeth together. “I thought you were going to let me do it?” You were staring at Jeongguk with a hard gaze.

He returned your stare; he was analyzing every feature on your face, trying to detect anything that would give off your reluctance. Seeing none, only your frustration, your glassy eyes, and your pressed lips, he picked your wrist up and placed the grip of the gun on your palm. “Safety lock is still on. Do as you like then.”

You huffed out a breath and strode forward to where Sehyung was situated. Jeongguk followed but stopped at a distance to give you your space, Seokjin following beside him and halting at the same time, copying his movements. Together they watched you stand a few centimeters away from the man who shot your father, your arms raising and the gun you’re holding being pointed at Sehyung immediately.

Sehyung sat there immobile. His eyes were opened but you could barely see that they were because of how swollen it appeared. His whole face was a bloody mess and so was his body, streaks of blood shown on his clothes and some still pouring from cuts on his skin. As he noticed your presence before him, he lifted his head up, smiled mockingly, scoffed—and then with every last bit of strength he had, he spat blood beneath your feet and chuckled.

It was in that second, when Jeongguk thought you were finally brave enough to pull the trigger as soon as possible, that your hands began shaking, the breath you let out quivering as if you were cold. It was the least of what he was expecting from you—he reckoned that you would have shot the man at exactly the instance a droplet of blood landed on your shoe in irritation of what Sehyung still had the guts to do—but it made you react the opposite, made you second guess your actions and hesitate.

“Whaing ait yor ating fore?” Sehyung’s speech was gibberish as he taunted you, a large number of his teeth no longer in his mouth and his consciousness was fading out slowly. “Kill me, you bitch!”

Jeongguk gazed at you from behind, waiting like the rest, his fist was formed beside him in anger of what Sehyung uttered but he controlled himself to give you your chance—to give you what you asked him to. Everyone present anticipated your next move, to see the wife of the Don commit the same grave sin they have to be a made man. However, when the sound of your scared whimper entered his ears instead of the fire of a gun, when he saw your composed stance loosening and your feet staggering back because of the intimidation of your father’s killer, Jeongguk dashed forward automatically, threw the promise he made to let you shoot the man far off his mind at that instance, and positioned himself behind you, one of his hands on your shoulder and one on both of your hands that were holding the weapon.

You had all the nerve and the determination in the world for a lot of things; you studied law, you handled pezzonovantes as clients, you managed to be with Jeongguk even on the days you knew there was serious danger lurking around him and his family—but out of all the things you’ve been brave for, you certainly couldn’t do it for this one, and Jeongguk didn’t want you to go forth with something you obviously weren’t ready to do. He realized then at your reluctance and frightened state that he didn’t want you to get blood on your hands, to be responsible for another person’s death. You were one of the few glorious things in his life, the guardian on his shoulder that reminded him of the goodness still in this world, and he wasn’t going to change that just because of what you thought you wanted to do.

Ever so gently, he took the gun from your grasp and moved his palm from your shoulder to your eyes, covering them, using it to turn you around until he pulled you to his chest. There you sobbed, latched onto his shirt, and whispered apologies for not being able to get on with but Jeongguk didn’t mind them, he was focusing on holding the gun properly with one hand to assure you that you didn’t do anything wrong, the best he could do was just shush you in comfort.

“It’s okay, angel,” he mumbled, his hand on your eyes moving to the back of your hair, caressing it while he continued to shush you like a baby. “I’ll do it for you.” He pressed a kiss on your temple.

As the last syllable flowed from his mouth, he didn’t prolong it any longer and shot Sehyung twice—one on the head for what he did to Inhwan and the other on the mouth for the foul name he called you. You flinched in his arms at the booming sound, much more because of the sudden drop of Sehyung’s chair backward at the force of the bullet lunging in his brain, and Jeongguk calmly handed the gun to Yoongi who was waiting by the side to get it from him.

At the same time Jeongguk shot Sehyung, a soldato of the Jeon Family shot the underboss of the Lee clan while he was exiting the golf he frequented in at another location, and while that was taking place, another also gave Jang Yeocheol the taste of his own medicine under Seokjin’s orders for planning such treachery to the Jeon Family. Those murders would erupt the war between the Four Families of Seoul and would force Jeongguk to urge his Family (and all his loved ones) to go to the mattresses with him to protect themselves from the awaiting bloodshed from the rivalring organizations.

“It’s done,” he said.

You exhaled, nodding, and instead of being repulsed for witnessing Jeongguk murder a man in front of you like he abruptly feared as the bullet went through Sehyung’s forehead, the thought occurring to him that he has shown his worst side to the woman he loved, you embraced him tight and took heavy breaths to calm yourself. It was then that Jeongguk vowed to himself that he will never let you see him kill or harm another man ever again.

He was positive now that you were absolutely certain of what he could do, what his Family was capable of, and how much power they truly possessed. For the months to come, he would have to be more transparent to you than he has ever been before to keep you safe and to assure you that he too was going to be safe. The War of the Four Families was going to be the reason why you would be the first lady to join the Mafia in the Jeon Family, joining hands with Jeongguk and Seokjin as the three of you bring your clan back to the summit.

“Thank you,” you murmured and he looked down at you, strange to hear your gratitude considering what he did to obtain it. He was still expecting you to run away or to at least stare at him with disgust. The only thing you did was keep him closer to you, not wanting to let go.

He smiled and kissed your hair. Jeongguk was going to look after you until his very last moment on earth, both for his sake and for the sake of your late father.

“Anything for you, my angel.”

THANK YOU FOR READING & FEEDBACK IS ALWAYS APPRECIATED ! ♡(ˆ‿ˆԅ)

tagging: @mercurygguk @fan-ati--c @moonchild1 @unicornbabylover @shameless-army @1-800-seo @fancystrawberrynerd @dreamamubarak (striked means tumblr wouldn’t let me tag them !)

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— 𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐥𝐞-𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐥𝐞 | 𝐤𝐭𝐡 (𝐥𝐲𝐟)

previous / series masterlist / next

pairing: fuckboyartist!taehyung x reader

summary: being apart for a month means lots of tears, forgiveness, and love.

authors note: better late than never, right? happy holidays everyone! thank you to those of you who are still showing up for this series. i love you and no words can describe how thankful i am to continue to have people who want to read this. this is my gift to you. xoxo

He wasn’t opening the door. 

Not that you expected him too after those two lousy texts you sent after a month of not communicating. 

But you wanted him too. 

“Tae…” you knocked again. “Tae, please…”

It was selfish, wasn’t it? Standing there, asking him to open the door when he spent weeks, weeks just trying to get a word out of you. 

“Tae, I want to see you.”

I miss you. 

“Please.”

I miss you. 

There wasn’t a single shuffle coming from the other side. I miss you. Not a single movement. I miss you. A part of you wondered, hoped that maybe he wasn’t home and that’s why he wasn’t responding. I miss you. 

But he didn’t want to talk to you. 

I miss you so much. 

“Tae…I….please, squish….”

Nothing.

“You know I haven’t stopped thinking about you all month.”

Nothing.

“Didn’t know how to stop thinking about you. I’m not sure if I even wanted too.”

Still nothing. 

“And you know I…I really didn’t mean it, squish.”

Nothing again. 

You slumped against the door. 

God, this was hard. So hard and so easy because you know how to talk to Taehyung. He’s your best friend. You know exactly how to get through to him and say the right words, but he deserved so much more than you just saying the right words. He deserved a proper explanation. 

A proper explanation for everything. 

But…

“The other day I was out to get some coffee,” you started. “You know that route we always take through the alley? The one we think is a short cut but really isn’t? Yeah, I went through there to get some coffee, but I saw they had this strawberry drink special and I got it. I got it because it reminded me of you.”

“I miss you, Tae. I miss everything about you. Everything reminds me of you and I…I don’t…I don’t know how we use to sleep without each other either.”

You paused. 

Suddenly, you heard the door click open, slowly open up and you didn’t even wait till your body fully straightened up before you jumped into his arms.

“Yah, baby.”

Legs wrapped around him and all. 

“I missed you,” you mumbled into his neck. “I missed you so much.”

His arms came around you, “I missed you.”

That voice. 

You missed that voice. 

How could you have been so stupid? 

“How’d you get more handsome?” you lifted up your head to gaze at him. “Huh?”

“Baby…”

He sniffled. 

You pushed some of his hair out of his face and leaned over to kiss away his tears. 

One by one. 

“So handsome.”

“Baby…” he repeated.

“No crying.”

No more crying you really wanted to say because a few more tears seemed to escape those eyes once you kissed him and you…

You wanted no tears. 

No tears from your sweet boy. 

Because you did this to him and God, had you really been this stupid?

“Who told you?”

“Jimin.”

“About the text afterwards too?”

You stared at him. 

“Yeah”

That stupid text that Jungkook sent.

The one about Taehyung being sensitive. 

“I’m gonna kill him.”

Taehyung smiled. 

It was small. 

Sweet.

You could tell he found you amusing because he starting laughing,

“It's not funny, Tae.”

“Kinda is, yeobo. I’m surprised you haven’t –”

“I already yelled at him.”

You crossed your arms across your chest.

And Taehyung held back another laugh while he settled you both onto his bed.

“It's not funny. He —“

“I love you, you know.”

You stared at him. 

Of course, you knew. 

And you loved him even more. 

Yeah, proper explanation.

---

Little do You Know | OT7 | One Hundred and Fifteen - Finale

Pair: Bangtan (ot7) x f!reader 

Summary: In a world where idols and actors can’t date, whether it be because of contracts, lack of time, or the dangers that involve having your personal life leaked, the market opened up for a new work field. Playmate Agencies emerged to supply the entertainment world with highly trained companions for hire. Bangtan is looking for new playmates. And you just happen to be the one all of them choose. 

Genre: Fluff, angst, smut, playmate au, idol au. 

Chapter warnings: This is it! Welcome to the final chapter! Author notes at the end. <3 

WC: 9.8k

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← Previous | Series Masterlist | Drabbles Masterlist

“That’s it, I’m fucked.” you were talking to yourself as you looked around your suitcase yet again. “I’m in so much trouble.” 

Talking to yourself wasn’t a constant occurrence in your life, but you were getting a little nervous, so you didn’t care. 

You had been in Busan for the last couple of days, having arrived just in time to celebrate Jimin’s birthday with his family –his mother’s seaweed soup was to die for–. With the Yet To Come in Busan concert happening later tonight it was expected of you to be nervous. For so many fucking reasons. 

You didn’t need one more. 

But the universe was still laughing at your face as it made you forget to bring Jin’s engagement ring with you. 

For a while there, you could’ve sworn it was in the travel sized jewelry box you had packed two days ago, but you had gone through it three times since you woke up and there was no sign of the ring. You also knew you hadn’t lost it; you would lose your damn mind if that was the case. So you chose to believe you left it in your apartment in Seoul. 

In hindsight it was a very high probability that you just left it behind without meaning to. You packed the day after getting the news that your boyfriends would be enlisting in the military soon, and only two hours before the car was supposed to pick you up and bring you to the airport. 

The news had messed you up a great deal, to the point the seven of them stayed in your apartment through the night, and only left when they had their own packing to finish. You weren’t completely over the news –nor would you ever be–, but you didn’t want to let it get to you as hard as it did when you first heard it. For your sake and theirs.

You would always be worried for them, you would always miss them and wonder if they were alright wherever they were. But you realized you had good things to focus on, things to look forward to, and that’s what you planned on holding on to. 

The house you would build with your seven lovers, the filming of your show, time you could spend with Appa and Minsuk and the boys’ families. You were also looking forward to the relief. 

You were all very tired of the doubts, of wondering when the shoe would finally drop and they would be sent to the military anyway. Not knowing was somehow worse. Now you knew. Now you had a plan. 

They would enlist, and they would do their time, but they would be back for good and be done with it. There would be no more wondering, they would no longer be at the hands of those who wronged them. Two years would go by so fast, you were sure of it. 

2025 was right around the corner, you’d be an eight piece puzzle again very soon. Your house would be done and you’d live together for the very first time, all eight of you and the dogs. Bangtan would go on a stadium world tour and you’d do your damn best to go with them. 

Jimin could finally take you on that date in the Seine in Paris. You and Tae could have fun in Amsterdam. You’d hike with Joon in Thailand, enjoy the sandy beaches of Rio with Hobi, explore the streets of Germany with Kook, enjoy good alcohol with Yoongi in front of a fire in Canada, fish with Jin in Mexico. 

It was the beeping of the front door of your hotel room that made you drop your jewelry box back on your suitcase. You and the seven men had universal keycards that allowed you to move freely between rooms, so you knew it was one of them coming to pay you a visit. 

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” Hoseok mused with a laugh, walking deeper into your room but not bothering to close the door. 

“I would rather have.” you sighed, ignoring Hobi’s judging looks as he frowned at the mess in your luggage. “I didn’t bring oppa’s engagement ring.” 

“And you’re so desperate to marry us that it makes you upset?” Hoseok cooed, hugging you from the back and resting his chin on your shoulder. 

“As if!” you snorted with a roll of your eyes, turning around in his hold. “I’m seeing Jin’s parents tonight and they still think we’re engaged. Well, his dad does.” 

“You’re seeing all of our parents tonight, it’s best you didn’t bring the ring.” he pointed out. “Less questions. Plus, if Mr. Kim does ask about it, you can just say you don’t wear it when there are so many ARMY around.”

“Oh, that’s genius.” your eyes widened and you snapped your fingers. “Good Hobi.” 

Hoseok laughed and rolled his eyes this time. With a shake of his head, he kissed the tip of your nose and asked: “Are you ready?” 

“To go to the venue? Not yet, I’m not sure what to wear.” 

“You can just dress comfortably and bring a change of clothes for the concert.” he said, already pulling you toward the open door. “But we’re not leaving for another hour. Let’s go have breakfast with hyung first.” 

“Which hyung?” 

Hoseok only wiggled his brows with another laugh, fingers linking with yours as he walked the rest of the way to the door, picking up your keycard on the way. He dragged you three doors down the hallway and you weren’t sure yet who was in which room, so you had to wait for Hobi to open the door. 

He let you in first and the first thing you saw was the variety of breakfast dishes on the table by the windows in the back of the room. The second thing you saw was Yoongi brushing his hair next to the big mirror by his bed. 

Your eyes filled with water and you sniffed. 

“Morning, kitten–” Yoongi was saying as he turned to you. “Oh, god, again?”

“Your hair.” you scrunched your eyes, but tears still fell. “They are gonna cut your glorious long hair.” 

“Hajimaaa, come here.” the older man dropped the brush on the bed and opened his arms for you to hug him. “I’ll still have long hair for a while. And it will grow back, I promise.” 

Crying over Yoongi’s hair wasn’t something you did on purpose, but you couldn’t help it most of the time. It wasn’t news to any of them how much you loved all of their current hair lengths; especially Yoongi’s. You didn’t sob and your tears dried really fast, but you still ran your hands through his locks as you held him. 

Hoseok was laughing behind you, already pulling a chair to sit closer to the breakfast table. Never afraid of teasing you for your long-hair-kink, he said: 

“What will happen when you realize Jungkookie will have to take his piercings off?”

“Hobah–” Yoongi warned his friend, but it was too late. 

“He’ll have to–” you gasped, pulling away from Yoongi and covering your mouth with your hands. “His lip ring?! And his nipple piercing too?!” 

Yoongi was sending death stares at Hoseok, who laughed even more and shoved a piece of bread into his mouth. Yoongi dried your tears and assured you things might have to change soon, with his hair and Kook’s piercings, but everything would go back to normal one day. 

“You promise?” you sniffed, bottom lip wobbly. 

“Anything you want, kitten. I’ll pierce him myself if I have to.” he assured you and that got you to stop crying. 

“What a spoiled little cat.” Hoseok teased from his chair. 

You and Yoongi joined him at the table, with you sitting between the two men, facing the views outside the window. As you ate, you watched the waves kissing the white sand and the few hotel guests enjoying the day outside. 

You were staying in the same hotel you did last time you were in Busan, back in July. The one with the private beach area where you had a heart to heart with Joon about your worries of the future, upset you didn’t get the internship at HYBE. Back then you had no idea what was coming your way. 

It was reassuring in a way. To be so worried about something, only to have good news coming your way a few days later. Made you hope the future would repeat the past, made you want to stop stressing about haircuts and lip rings. 

Deciding on focusing on better things, you said: 

“I can’t wait to see the stage.”

“You’ll love it, but you might cry again.” Hoseok said and Yoongi sighed. 

“Why?!” you asked them, but Yoongi only said:

“You’ll see.” 

The boys had been spending the last couple of days at the Busan Asiad Main Stadium, the venue where their free concert was being held, but you hadn’t been there yet. You took some time to visit your family who lived in the area, as well as spending some time with Kook’s eomma –after so many calls and video chats, it was nice to see her in person again–, having dinner with the Parks and enjoying the city. 

Busan had turned purple. 

There were decorations everywhere, banners welcoming ARMY from all over the world who traveled to watch the concert, Gwangan bridge lit up in purple light every night, coffee shops and restaurants were holding BTS themed events everyday. The group’s impact in the city was nothing you had ever seen before and it was only more proof of their influence and power. 

A slap in the face of the government, no doubt.

“Doyun-ssi did a good job with the stage.” Yoongi started again after finishing a piece of toast and scrambled eggs. “And you know I hate to say that.” 

“He told me he’s really excited about it. Sad it’s the last stage he’ll get to produce for you guys for a while, so he went all out.” you nodded, bringing your glass of orange juice to your lips. “But he’ll be mine now.” 

Looking back, you could have chosen better words. You didn’t need to call the man mine. Not in front of your boyfriends. Not in front of someone like Hoseok. 

“What’s that, now?” Hobi asked, eyeing you from over the edge of his coffee cup. 

“I mean– Doyun is part of, uh… My team, you know that.” you stammered, his gaze had the power of making you feel small when he wanted it to. 

“That’s not what you said, kitten.” it was Yoongi’s turn to chuckle as Hobi scowled. “You said he’d be yours.”

Your lips opened and closed as you tried to justify your awful choice of words. And they knew what you meant, they knew Doyun and Heejin were joining the staff team for your YouTube series. Hell, Doyun put together the set for Suchwita, Yoongi’s own YouTube show where he’d get drunk with his guests. 

But Hobi was never one to miss an opportunity to mess with you. And Yoongi would always go with it. 

The gentle scrape of a chair on the wooden floor made you stare at Hoseok as he dragged his chair closer to yours. So close, in fact, that his arm touched yours. 

“Do we need to remind you who you belong to?” Hobi asked as the tips of his fingers pulled your chin up so you’d look into his eyes. “And that we’re the only ones that belong to you?” 

You were melting. You were dropping. 

“Yes.” you sighed, eyes fluttering closed. 

Hoseok could have punished you by pulling away, by teasing you and giving you nothing. But he didn’t. The fingers on your chin slipped to the back of your neck with a firm grip that made your eyes close. His breath was against your lips as his mouth pressed harshly against yours. 

You simply parted your lips and let him push his tongue inside, chasing it with his. Dominating you with a simple kiss, making your mind swirl as he explored your mouth, making sure you desired no one but him. At least in that very moment. Hobi bit your bottom lip and sucked on it softly, making you gasp and moan into his lips. 

“Now let hyung taste you too.” Hoseok ordered with a new squeeze on the back of your neck. 

“Yes, sir.” 

You turned around in search of Yoongi, finding his chair stuck to yours. You had no idea when he moved, guessing it must have been when you were distracted by Hobi’s tongue down your throat. Cat eyes were staring at your slick lips as your hands tangled in his hair. 

Unlike Hoseok, Yoongi let you be the one to kiss him, let you dictate how slow the kiss was. His tongue dragged against yours, mouths opening and closing with each other’s. You pulled on his hair, an opportunity you would never pass up, and he was the one groaning into your mouth. You swallowed every sound he gave you until he pulled away. 

“We should get going.” Hobi’s voice slowly pulled you from your haze. 

You were nodding as you looked at Yoongi’s bed, until you realized that’s not what he meant. 

“The car will be downstairs in twenty minutes.” Yoongi agreed, making a point of wiping his bottom lip with his thumb. “Are you coming with us today, kitten?”

“Oh, I’m not letting you out of my sight.” 

“That color looks pretty on you.” Jimin was saying as you were sitting in the rusty carrousel straight out of the Spring Day music video. “Nice hoodie.” 

“Thanks, I stole it from the merch booth.” you grinned, gently swaying back and forth. 

“Is that so? Should I tell Sejin on you?” he teased, hands holding onto the chains of your hanging seat.

“You can if you want to, but I’m his favorite.” 

Besides, you didn’t really steal the purple YET TO COME merch hoodie, you had every intention of paying for it. But all of the staff members knew you, and apparently you had a free pass to all things merch, so they let you take whatever you wanted. And what you wanted was another hoodie for your collection.

It was very chilly that afternoon, and the stadium was so open and wide that you couldn’t help but want the extra warmth. 

Doyun really had done a tremendous job with the stage and HYBE didn’t spare any savings to make it their best concert yet. You hadn’t been ARMY for very long, as your playmate job didn’t allow you to be a kpop fan in the past, but you knew enough about the Bangtan universe by now to recognize all of the easter eggs scattered around the stage. 

Like the angel statue from Blood Sweat & Tears, the cargo cart from RUN, the schoolbus from No More Dream, the train and the You Never Walk Alone carousel you were sitting on, both from Spring Day. It would be an emotional night for ARMY and they didn’t even know anything about the enlistment yet. 

“I don’t blame hyung-nim.” Jimin shrugged, leaning down towards you as you looked up at him. “You’re my favorite too.” 

“Is that so? Should I tell Tae on you?” 

You didn't think there was a single hair color that would ever look bad on Jimin. You were really liking the auburn red color he had on right now, as his hair framed his face, a little messy the more he leaned down and down again, until his nose bumped yours. 

You smiled and pushed your lips against his, capturing the bottom one between your teeth. You felt Jimin’s smirk, which pulled his lip back. Instead of standing up from what couldn't be a comfortable position, Jimin leaned all the more to properly catch your lips. He kissed you softly until it became sloppy. It was always easy to forget about your surroundings when you were with him, even more so when he kissed you like that.

All full of tongue and teeth and plush lips moving against yours in a synchronized dance. One of his hands left the chain and held the base of your neck, making you sigh as he slightly pulled away. 

"Tell me what?" Tae's voice was ringing in your ear as you and Jimin never broke eye contact. 

"Tell you that she misses you." Jimin answered for you, finally pulling away. 

"Aw, baby." Tae was cooing as he walked to you, standing behind your carousel swing. "I missed you too, but I just went inside to change my mic pack."

“What can I say? I love you too much.” you told him, which wasn’t a lie. 

“Mhm, no such thing as too much love.” Tae smiled, boxy, cute, gorgeous. “Scoot.”

Tae circled the swing, signaling for you to get up. You did, letting him sit on the swing instead. His hands on your hips showed he wanted you to sit on his lap and you warned:

“I don't wanna break the stage prop.” 

Taehyung didn’t care, not having any of it and pulling you to sit over his legs anyway. “That's fine, your buddy can just fix it if we do.”

“My bud- oh my god, all of you.” you groaned, hearing Jimin laugh and Tae holding you with one arm around your body. “You still don't like Doyun, do you?”

“No–” Jimin snorted.

“It's not that we don't like him–”

“We hate his guts–”

You rolled your eyes at the two bickering boys, wrapping an arm around Tae’s shoulders as he started to swing lightly back and forth. 

“He just never missed an opportunity to hit on you. Which, as a guy, I can respect. We did the same.” Taehyung said, pretending nonchalance, shoulders rising and falling. “But as your boyfriend–”

“It's been a year! He has a girlfriend now!” you groaned, looking between the two of them, gaze ending on Jimin: “And I really didn't think you of all people would be so jealous.” 

“You call it jealous, I call it taking care of what's rightfully mine.” Jimin’s chin jutted out. He was proud of himself. 

“I call it jealous too.” Taehyung’s second arm wrapped around you too, chin resting on your shoulder. 

“Nothing ever happened with Doyun and nothing ever will.” you let out a small huff, body fighting your brain, begging you to relax into Tae’s hold. “And he did make his intentions clear to me way before any of you ever did.”

“Now hang on a minute, what's that supposed to mean–” Jimin had both hands on his hips as he stared at you with slightly raised eyebrows. 

“It means that if i wanted him, I would have been fucking him way before either of us ever kissed. He's good looking enough.” you lectured in a heartbeat.

Jimin let out an offended gasp, lips parting in a shocked pout. Taehyung squirmed behind you, hold loosening so you could turn slightly towards him. 

“I wanted to be fucking you way before we even kissed! But we had a pact!” Tae argued and you frowned. 

“Ohhh, the pact. Good times.” Jimin nodded as he looked into the distance, as if remembering the past. 

“What pact?!” you stared in between the two of them; confused was an understatement. 

“You don't know about the pact?” Tae asked behind you, dropping a small kiss on your shoulder. 

“Do I look like I know about the pact?” you noted, still gazing from one man to the other. 

“When you started working for us, and we were bickering for your attention... We made a pact.” Taehyung started to explain. 

“Was it Joon hyung's idea? It sounds like his idea.” Jimin pondered, as if he didn’t remember all of the details. 

“–to make sure things ran smoothly, we decided that none of us would actually make any serious advances on you. We were all trying to keep it platonic.” Tae carried on. “Just so there would be no competition between us, and so there wasn't a risk that you'd pick one of us to work for, so we could continue sharing you.”

“What changed then?” you wanted to know, trying to the math in your head, remember when they stopped acting platonic and began to make advances on you. 

The hard thing about that was not thinking there was ever a day there wasn’t some kind of tension between you and each of the seven. 

“Jungkookie.” Jimin said with a small sigh. 

“What?” 

“Well, technically, I walked in on the two of you cuddling on the couch of your apartment, when you were watching a movie.” Tae admitted and you stared at him with a deep frown. 

Again, you had to search your brain for the specific thing he was talking about. You and Jungkook cuddled on the couch all the time, but, according to Tae, that must’ve happened pretty early on in your playmate/client relationship. And then it hit you. 

“That first day he brought Bam over to the playmate apartment?!” you asked and Tae nodded. “I didn't see you there.”

“Yeah, but I saw you. Jungkookie was kissing your neck, spooning you from behind. You were letting out the pretty little noises you make.” Taehyung spoke the last part directly onto your neck, the baritone and this warm breath giving you shivers. 

“Safe to say we were hella surprised the maknae would be the one to make the first move.” Jimin snorted, still standing but leaning his ass against the swing in front of yours. 

“Kook didn’t make a move, I was the one who suggested laying down.” you told them, remembering the day clearly now. Not to mention your protectiveness when it came to the boy. “And I don’t think he was consciously advancing on me.”

“Either way, Tae told the group chat.” Jimin shrugged. 

“The damn group chat!” you squinted at the older man, knowing you were a recurring subject on their Bangtan-Only message chat.

“And... I might have been the one to say fuck it to the pact.” Jimin continued, but his proud little smile told you he wasn’t sorry about it. 

“Still, it took you guys... what, a month before we kissed?”

“It’s called a slow burn, pup.” Tae added, nose and lips still dragging on the side of your neck. 

Jimin giggled, studying your reactions to his best friend’s advances, eyeing the way his lips kissed your skin. “We also didn’t want to just kiss you and that would be it. We had a very meticulous plan to make you fall for us.”

“As if it was hard.” you snorted. Falling for them was as easy as breathing. 

“I always knew you'd be ours.” Tae spoke so softly you didn’t even think Jimin heard you. His arms squeezed you just a little tighter and you smiled. 

“You really did, didn't you?”

“From that first interview.” he nodded and lifted his head to face you. “You have no idea how much I fought to make you my playmate.”

“I heard about that.” you were still smiling as your hand slipped into his soft, dark hair. 

“And even after you walked out, who thought there was something wrong?” Tae asked, and it wasn’t a rhetorical question. 

“You did.” you said, kissing his cheek. 

“Who went after you to get you back?”

“You did.” you repeated, kissing the tip of his nose. 

Taehyung blushed slightly and you heard Jimin snicker behind you. 

“Your point being?!” the older man sassed. 

“My point is I should be her favorite too.” Tae said, but his eyes didn’t leave you even if his reply was aimed at his member. 

“Mhm, maybe you should.” you cupped his cheek, pulling his face closer to yours. 

You always loved the second before kissing Taehyung. The half lidded look from his pretty eyes before they closed shut all the way. You loved how gently, but determinedly, his lips pressed against yours. You were the first to move your lips against his, a subtle action that made him part his own so his tongue could slip into your mouth. 

Your fingers tangled in his hair a little harder, pulling on the locks as his head tilted to the side and he deepened the kiss. You both sighed almost in sync, brushing your tongues together slowly. 

Reluctantly, you pulled away and said:

“Too bad I'm ot7 biased.”

Tae’s lips moved as if he was about to say something, but a fourth voice cut him off: “There you are.”

“Of course it’s you.” Jimin grumbled as Doyung rushed up one of the many stairs that led to the stage. 

“You're being called in the waiting room.” the staff said, looking at the members. “Hoseok-ssi wants to go through the setlist for tonight.”

Both of your boyfriends groaned, especially Taehyung, who was forced to let go of you. Doyun pulled his intercom device out of his pocket and said something along the lines of ‘found them, bringing them in right now’, before pointing in the direction of the center stage. 

The three of you followed the path they knew well, with Doyun falling behind. Jimin and Taehyung walked ahead of you, the youngest one asking something about a specific part of a choreography, as you walked into the backstage area. There were stairs, turns and hallways, but everything was familiar to you. 

From the staff working the soundbooth, to the wardrobe unnies running from one side to the next, and even the caterer giving out orders for the time meals should be served to the artists. 

You started walking a little slower as your boyfriends got lost in their own little world, falling into step with Doyun. 

“Hey, buddy.” you said, linking your arm through his. 

“Buddy– Ynie, maybe you shouldn't hold my arm like that.” the man said, looking around. 

“So now you're scared of them?! Took you long enough.” you joked, but didn’t let go of his arm. 

Doyun playfully rolled his eyes and bent his arm to make it more comfortable for you to hold it. Your relationship with the man was a little rocky for a while in the beginning, but you were glad to call him a friend now. 

“No, not your men.” the man said with a shake of his head. “Bang PD.”

“What? Why?”

“You didn't hear? He... kinda asked everyone to look after you.” Doyun said, looking at you as he guided the way to go after Tae and Jimin got out of sight.

“Huh?” you were frowning, never having heard anything like that before. 

“PD-nim has a lot of plans for you, apparently. Word on the grapevine is you're HYBE’s queen.” 

You didn’t know if you should cringe, be flattered or worry about what was being said about you among the staff. 

“Not in a bad way…” he continued, noticing your silence. “Just, since BTS are enlisting soon, Bang wants to invest in you. Y’know, he's losing a gold mine, so he's looking to build another one.”

“Oh my god.”

“He plans on being very hands on with your show.” Doyun said and you bit your lip to stop a gasp. “You sound surprised.”

“That’s because apparently I'm the last one to learn about everything.”

Doyun parted from you at the door of the artists’ lounge. While he was allowed to go inside, he told you he had to go around and make sure everything was ready for tonight; make sure everyone knew their cues, all of the special props and effects were ready to go and run through his personal list of everything that could go wrong. 

Being one step ahead and all of that. 

When you walked behind the partition curtain, all of your boyfriends were inside the room already; as well as a couple staff. All members are wearing different clothes from when you saw them last, in all kinds of leather, black and chains. Jimin and Taehyung were in a corner changing their clothes too, so you guessed they were getting ready to do their dress rehearsal. 

Yoongi was sharing a couch with Jungkook, but he was curled up in a lying position as the maknae took up a small portion of the seat. Namjoon and Seokjin were sharing another couch, both sitting, which gave them plenty of room to manspread. Hoseok was standing with Sung-deuk, too focused on the paper in his hands to even notice your presence. 

Whatever they were about to do wouldn’t start until Jimin and Tae were ready, so you didn’t feel the need to sit in a corner and stay out of the way just yet. 

“Who put in the new deposit for the construction?” Namjoon asked the group, with a couple lines between his brows, staring intently at his phone. 

Most likely noticing how the number on the bank account designated for the construction of your house was a little larger than before. 

“I did.” you said and heads turned your way. 

Yoongi looked like he wanted to say something, but thought better about it and gave up. Jungkook pouted, looking at his other hyungs as he waited for direction on how to react. 

“Baby, you don't have to.” Namjoon told you, which was something you already expected. 

Out of the seven, you knew Namjoon would be the first one to argue about this, to complain about you making a deposit to help with the expenses of the building of the house. But luckily you knew how to deal with him. He looked really good in his all black outfit and the heavy chains around his neck. You marched to him and instead of sitting on the couch between him and Jin, you threw a leg over his and straddled his lap. 

Any other sounds in the room died before they were even out. 

Namjoon held you by the hips, not caring about the curious stares from the staff, not even minding his members. Your hands rested on his chest as you said:

“Excuse me, yes I do.”

“You know we got you.” he insisted.

“I know you got an alpha complex and that you want to provide for me and as much as that does make me hot for you in a primal way... I got myself too.” you continued and Seokjin let out a small chuckle on your right. 

“You think that's hot–” Joon arched an eyebrow, fingers pressing on your hips a little harder. 

“I want to be part of it.” you stated, fiddling with the chains around his neck, feeling its weight on your fingertips. 

“You are. If it wasn’t for you, we wouldn't be living together again, not like this.” Namjoon countered, but that wasn’t enough for you. 

“That's not what I mean. If I let you pay for everything, the land, the construction, the furniture, the bills... It's gonna make me feel like a guest.” you told him with a tiny purse of your lips. “I don't want to feel like a guest that is staying at your house.” 

“Oh, I didn't think about it like that.” Namjoon reached to smooth the lines on your forehead and pull down your bottom lip with his thumb, which made you smile.

“I know. And I know you mean well. I might not make as much money as all of you and I would never be able to afford all of this on my own…” you pondered. It wasn’t news to any of you that you would never make as much money as Bangtan, no matter how much Bang PD-nim wanted to invest in you. But you could help. “I'm working. I can pay for my share.”

Your boyfriend thought about it for a little while, shoulders relaxing, showing he agreed with you. And then he said: “That sounds good, baby. We appreciate you helping out.” 

“Thank you.”

Namjoon smiled softly, dimples on his cheeks, large hands still on your hips, you still on his lap. Jimin and Tae were already coming back to the couch area, as well as Hoseok with a stack of papers to go through their speeches, ending-ments and set list. You’d have to leave them alone at any minute now. But first–

You held Namjoon by hooking your fingers on his chains and leaned down as he leaned forward. His plush lips were on yours and his hands slipped to your back. Unlike Tae a while ago, Joon took control from the moment your lips were pressed together. Moved by the urgency of the professional setting you were in, he pressed you harder against him and you could feel him even while soft, just to make you gasp. 

As your lips parted, he slipped his tongue past them, clashing with yours in a mind numbing kiss that took your breath away. He grunted into your mouth as the hold on his chains got too hard, retaliating by biting your bottom lip. 

“Baby, be a good pet and let us finish this.” Hoseok’s voice made you pull away from Namjoon’s lips. “We’ll give you all the making out you want after the concert is done.” 

“You promise?” you looked at the man over your shoulder, finding serious eyes, professional mode, dance leader Hobi. 

His only reply was the arching of his brows and it was enough to have you scrambling off Namjoon’s lap and scurrying to the sidelines. As you passed the second couch, you heard Jungkook asking Yoongi:

“How does hyung do that?” 

Being in a room full of Bangtan’s parents should be a nerve wracking thing. 

Seven fathers and seven mothers inside a VIP room at the concert venue should make you more nervous and anxious than you were. Parents who not only knew you were dating their son, but also their son’s best friends. 

But they felt so much like family to you at this point that you were happy to see them again, to catch up, spend time with them. 

Seokjin’s parents had been kind enough to not ask about the lack of a ring on your finger, but showed you pictures of baby Sun and told you about all of the new things he was learning. Mrs. Kim invited you over for lunch whenever you wanted to come over, extending the offer even after Jin went off to serve. 

The Min’s were nice as always, telling you about their move to Seoul at the start of next year; Mr. Min had heard about the new house being built and told you all about herringbone, molding, and the best types of polished tiles, while Mrs. Min reminisced about your road trip two months ago. 

Hoseok’s parents were as sweet as him, even if they were a bit on the quieter side. Always thanking you for making their son happy; much like Jiwoo had done when she first met you, the Jungs commented on Hobi’s past relationship and how he seemed like a completely different person now. In the best way.  

Namjoon’s mom and dad held you in conversation for a good twenty minutes and you could always tell where your boyfriend got his big brains from. Mama Moon apologized in person for the mishap from when you two first met –when you found out Joon had lied about your previous job–, but you assured her it was all in the past now and you made Namjoon work for your forgiveness. 

The Parks were very excited about Christmas time, sharing with you all of the dishes they were planning on cooking for when you came over. Jimin’s mom promised to teach you to cook her seaweed soup then, so you could make it and bring it to her son whenever you visited him on his assigned military base. 

Taehyung’s parents were looking forward to the concert tonight, asking if you knew any details you could share. It always took you by surprise how alike Tae was to his dad, from his facial features to his fashion style. They could share a closet for all you knew. 

It was always nice to see the Jeons, even after spending half of the day with Jungkook’s mother the day before, you would still talk with her for hours if you could. Your boyfriend’s adventurous side definitely came from her while his quieter and introverted personality traits came from his dad. 

As you finished making your rounds greeting all of them, they started mingling with each other, eating the food from the VIP catering and waiting for the concert to start. You couldn’t eat anything, more anxious with each click of the clock that brought you closer and closer to show time. You weren’t even going on stage and your stomach was flipping. 

The hardest part about tonight was knowing that this would be the last concert before they went off to the military, the last time ARMY would see them together for at least two whole years. The last time you would see them singing and dancing together too. And it fucking hurt. 

But you were still damn proud of each one of them and you were looking forward to the future. 

You had no other choice. 

“It’s a pretty sight to look at, isn’t it?” Taehyung's eomma was standing next to you as you looked out into the stadium through the glass wall of the VIP box. 

You had no idea how long she was there for, but you smiled as if she hadn’t just startled you. And you agreed with her statement. The Asiad was filled with at least 50.000 fans, from all over the world. ARMY Bombs were already lit and waving as people excitedly awaited the start of the show. 

“I really like looking at all the lights.” you nodded, turning to her with a heavy heart and honest smile. 

“You’ll see them again, you know? We all will.” she told you with an expression as pained as you felt. 

You didn’t think she was only talking about the lights and ARMY Bombs. 

You let go of a shuddered breath: “I know.”

“How are you holding up?” the woman asked, and you knew that if she was anything like Tae, she’d see right through a lie. 

So you went with honesty: “I’m terrified.” 

“I can understand that.” 

“I’m so scared but I can’t let it show, I wouldn’t do that to them.” you continued, willing your eyes to remain dry. 

“Two years go by very fast, you’ll see.” what you did see was how she was holding back her own tears. “It’s hard for me, too, and Taetae is away most of the year anyways… I can’t imagine what it must be like for you.” 

“Like you said, we’ll see them again.” was all you mustered to reply. 

If you started to get in your feelings right now, you wouldn’t make it halfway through the concert and you were planning on doing your very best to enjoy it. Luckily you didn’t have to search for an excuse to walk away, as it showed up on its own in the form of a tall man with wide shoulders. 

“Excuse me, may I steal her away?” Jin’s hand was on the lower part of your back as he bowed to Tae’s mother. 

“Yes, yes, of course. Good luck tonight, Jinnie. Please pass it around to the others too.” 

“I will, thank you.” Jin bowed to the short woman, turning to you. “Let’s go, sweetheart?” 

You let Seokjin link his fingers through yours, let him lead you out of the VIP room and out on the hallway. You had asked your lovers to let you know when it was closer to them getting on stage, so you could send them off properly and you planned on watching from the front of the stage. But you guessed they would text you, send a staff out. 

Not Seokjin with a full face of perfect makeup, his concert clothes, mic pack and earpiece already stuck to his clothes. 

But you were damn well happy it was him, because after the short conversation with Tae’s mother you had to–

“Come here.” 

You stopped in the middle of the hallway, holding Jin’s hand so he could do the same. Your boyfriend had a question on the tip of his tongue, but you didn’t give him time to say anything else as you bumped into him, chest against chest and arms hugging him by the neck. 

You didn’t care about his lipstick being ruined, all you cared about was pouring a small sample of your love on him with a kiss. 

Jin reacted instantly, not even phased, both hands on your back to keep you close as his lips dictated the pace of the kiss. It was easy to submit, to let him lead, to stop thinking for at least a couple moments. You let yourself focus on the plushness of his lips, on the swirl of his tongue against yours, on his heavy breath that warmed up your face. 

You could hear faint noises, a buzz, too close but too far away at the same time. With an annoyed grunt, Jin pulled away from you. You were confused as he pointed to his earpiece. 

“We really need to go.” he told you and you nodded. “But I really needed that, thank you.” 

“Anytime, oppa.” you grinned, feeling a little lighter. “Okay, let’s go.”

Jin blinked a couple of times and shook his head, forcing his feet to move, hand holding yours again as he walked down the hallway with a new speed to his step. You were wearing strappy heels and your skirt was slightly too short for a jog, but you kept up with him as best as you could. 

You took the elevator down to the lowest level, where a golf cart vehicle was waiting for the two of you to bring the idol to the back of the stage. The driver took you through secret hallways and hidden gates, so no one attending the concert would even see either of you. 

The backstage area was buzzing when you finally arrived; everything was dark and lit up by flashlights or strategic spotlights so there were no accidents, but without dragging too much attention or disrupting the concert experience for the audience. 

You could hear BTS' music videos being shown on the big screen and ARMY were singing together as a warmup. 

Jin took you back to their waiting room, kissing your lips one last time before rushing off to Heejin to ask her to fix his makeup and hair. Taehyung was singing key parts of Permission To Dance as a vocal warmup, Jimin was doing stretches, Namjoon was jumping and jogging in place to get his adrenaline pumping, Hoseok was practicing a move from RUN BTS, Yoongi was having his hair touched up one last time. 

The only one missing was–

“Has anyone seen Jungkook?” a staff with a headset had just finished a headcount and noticed one of them was missing. 

Everyone looked at you, including Jin, as if you had anything to do with the maknae’s disappearance. You raised your hands in the air, not having seen Kook for at least two hours at this point. 

Staff started to look everywhere for him and you decided to help. Your biggest worry was Jungkook having a breakdown and hiding away, having a panic attack or something of the sorts. He was obviously the most affected about the military decisions –or at least the one to show it the most–, so you feared the weight of tonight could be getting the best of him. 

You tried calling him, but at this point in the night none of the seven should have their phones on them, in case they brought it out on stage by mistake, so it was pointless. You were walking through the hallway closest to the stairs that led up the stage, trying not to trip on your own feet as you searched for any signs of your youngest boyfriend. 

That was when a hand covered your mouth and an arm circled your waist. 

You squealed as you were pulled inside a small bathroom, but the noise of the crowd and the music were too high for anyone to hear you. 

“It’s me, tokki, it’s just me!” Jungkook could hear your screams very well, turning you around to face him while he waved his hands in front of you to stop your yelling. 

“Have you lost your mind?!” you gasped, hitting his hard chest with weak fists. “Everyone is looking for you, you got ten minutes until you’re supposed to go on–”

Jungkook’s lips crashed into yours, just as his body did the same, pressing you against the sink counter behind you. You melted ridiculously fast, all of your nerves and worries turning into lust and want. The feeling of Jungkook’s lip ring dragging against yours made you groan, fingers slipping into his messy and slightly wavy hair. 

His hands were on your sides, slipping to your ass, groping you without a single care in the world. You moaned against his mouth, lips parted as you panted and he licked all over your mouth. 

The heavy banging on the door and the calls of Jungkook’s made you pull away from him, but he placed his pointer finger over his lips so you’d stay quiet. 

“You have to go, bun.” you whisper shouted, voice airy. 

“I am, just–” his hand was on the back of your neck as he pulled you in for another kiss, just to suck your bottom lip into his mouth. “–for tradition.” 

“Lucky for you your shirt doesn’t have any buttons for me to pop this time.” you giggled and he smirked. “Although I think ARMY will be disappointed.” 

“That’s only for your eyes now, baby.” he said with the press of his fingers to the nape of your neck. 

“Good. Now go! I’ll be there watching you.” you rushed him, reaching for the door. “Think of me when you’re hip thrusting.”

You pulled the door to force Jungkook out of the bathroom, but maybe you should have been a little more careful, maybe you should have left first, one of you at a time. Because of course the universe would do this to you. Of course the other six members were right outside as you opened the door. 

“I’m not even surprised at this point.” Jimin was giggling.

Namjoon was about to lose his mind, Hoseok looked stressed, Yoongi was pissed. 

Taehyung pulled Jungkook by his jacket so he’d get out of the way and smacked a kiss on your lips, so fast it startled you. Then, one by one, the others did the same thing. You were breathless by the time the last of your boyfriends stole a good luck kiss, all seven of them rushing to the stage after that, right when the lights went off, with seconds to spare. 

There were so many emotions going through you at that very moment, you felt like the explosions and the fireworks were inside your veins. Your every nerve ending was lit on fire. You wanted to cry, you wanted to laugh, you wanted to scream. You were filled with so much love. 

“Come on, don’t you wanna watch it from the front?” Doyun was waving at you so he could bring you to the pit, just like he always did during the PTD concerts. 

“Have you seen them?” you were asking a staff member as you made your way back inside the empty venue. 

“Sorry, Yn-ssi.” she shook her head, pulling a facemask up to her nose. “Maybe they forgot something in the waiting room?”

“I’ll check, thank you.” 

You bowed to the woman and wished her a good rest of the night. 

Normally, Bangtan would be the first ones to leave the stadium after a concert, before the fireworks were even over. Just so they could get on the road before the thousands of fans started filtering out, which would undoubtedly cause a ruckus and create traffic on the surrounding streets and blocks. 

But not today. 

Maybe it was because their parents were there, which was a very rare feature in and of itself. Maybe they were feeling nostalgic, knowing this would be their last stage for a while and that made them stay around a while longer. It could even be because of all of the officials and government people who also watched the concert, and wanted to congratulate them afterwards. 

But all of the important government people had already left a while ago and you had just said goodbye to Jimin’s parents –the last ones to go–, waiting for their car to take them home. You could’ve sworn your seven boyfriends were right behind you, but you were too distracted in conversation with Mr. Park that you didn’t notice them walking away. 

You doubted they would go back to the hotel without you, you had seen in the cars’ schedule you were supposed to ride with Joon. You had been looking for them everywhere backstage, but no signs of them whatsoever. Calling them also didn’t work, as no one was answering your messages or picking up your calls. 

Checking the artists’ lounge was your next step, but as you passed an entrance that would lead to the floor seats of the stadium, you noticed a few lights on the main stage were still on and seven small figures were on top of it. 

To say you were relieved to know they were alright was an understatement. 

Guessing they needed some time for themselves, to let all of the feelings of tonight sink in, enjoy a moment as a group, you were about to turn away and wait for them near the reception of the venue. But a breathless Doyun running toward you stopped you in your tracks. 

“They are waiting for you.” he told you, leaning forward with his hands resting on his knees. “I’ve been– looking for you– Just go up there.” 

“Are you okay?” you giggled, wanting to make sure your friend was alright. 

“Yeah, yeah, just– you can go.” 

“Alright, but maybe drink some water.” you insisted. “You did a great job tonight, the concert was perfect.”

You had already gushed to your friend about all of the special effects, water and fire explosions, the fireworks and purple papers that made the concert much more special. You had also praised your seven boyfriends for their hard work. 

The Yet To Come in Busan concert would be one for the history books. Over fifty million people all over the world watched the concert online, simultaneously, which had to break some kind of record. The seven of them were energized from start to finish, feeling themselves, dancing, sweating, singing their hearts out with so much emotion you cried a few times. 

“Where the hell is she?!” you heard Hoseok asking as you were close enough and within earshot. 

“I told you we shouldn’t have trusted Doyun with this.” Jimin grumbles, making you laugh. 

And it was your laugh that alerted the seven about your presence, making them all turn to the sound. 

The venue seemed a lot bigger now, but it still felt alive. There were no more screams, no more singing, most of the staff team had already left. But the floor was still covered in purple papers, there were abandoned posters saying ‘ARMY and BTS = FOREVER’, ‘we came all the way from Peru’, and ‘I broke up with my boyfriend to come here single’ here and there, a Tata headband left behind and so much more. 

You had to push a couple iron gates out of the way, the divisors of the designated areas that people had tickers for, but you made it to the stage rather quickly. Your feet were hurting from being in heels all night, so you winced while running up the stairs, but at least you looked pretty. 

“I thought you left without me.” you said as you walked all the way to where the seven were in the middle of the stage; already in their regular clothes, clean faces and messy long hairs. 

“We would never.” Joon crooned, hands in his pockets as he smiled with dimples. 

“What are you doing up here?” you asked, looking around yourselves. You could see the appeal, the venue was pretty even at night and empty. 

“Hard to leave. And we didn't get to enjoy all of this while we were up here.” Joon continued with a small chuckle. “Everything passes like a flash sometimes.”

Jimin seemed to agree as he giggled. “I don't remember half of the concert.” 

“Well, Tae was feeling himself during RUN BTS, Joon was cursing in english, rap line said fuck you to the haters in front of government officials–” you recounted a few of the highlights you had at the top of your mind. 

“That felt really good.” Hoseok had taken off the blonde clip-ons from his hair a while ago, laughing at the memory of being on stage. 

“It was really hot.” you agreed. 

The seven of them were a little quieter than you had ever seen them after a concert. While adrenaline was still pumping hard, their small twitches and moves were evidence of it, they weren’t talking over each other, weren’t fighting for your attention, none of them was all over you yet. 

“Thank you for being here tonight, tokki.” Jungkook broke the silence and the staring match the boys were having. 

“I told you I wouldn't miss it.” you smiled softly, holding the urge to run to him. 

Or to Hoseok, who was closest to you. Jimin looked particularly sweet as well. And then again, Yoongi’s hair was just marvelous. You were kind of in the middle already, while they formed a half circle around you, it wouldn’t take much for them to engulf you in a Bangtan pile. 

“Did you hear our ending ments?” Joon asked you, pulling you out of your thoughts. 

“Of course I did. You spoke really well.” you turned to him, noticing your boyfriends taking a step closer to you. Namjoon wasn’t as honest tonight as he probably wished he could have been; but he asked ARMY to trust them, no matter what was coming. “I know you're worried about the enlistment news coming out in a couple of days, that you're scared ARMY won’t be here anymore when you're all back together. But they will. I can assure you they will.” 

“Will you?” Seokjin was directly in front of you, in between Joon and Yoongi.

“Do you really have to ask?” was your answer. 

“We just wanna make sure.” Yoongi shrugged with a small smile and the rubbing of the tip of his nose. 

You could recognize the tiny nervous tick, which lit up metaphorical red lights over your head. But you didn’t have time to overanalyze it as Jin took one more step in your direction, taking a small box out of his pocket. 

“What's that–” your voice trembled. You didn’t know what to make of it, but it was a ring box. 

“Us making sure.” Jimin half explained. 

Jin didn’t take more than a second to open the box and show you the engagement ring that was already yours, the one he had given you a really long time ago, the one you always wore. The ring that matched your couple’s ring perfectly. 

You weren’t sure if you were relieved or disappointed. 

“I thought I had left it–” you looked at Hoseok, who was standing next to Yoongi, and he simply winked in your direction. He knew you were looking for this ring this morning and didn’t say anything. “Why do you have it?”

“Look inside.” Namjoon said softly. 

Jin let you take the ring out of the box and as soon as it was off the small cushion holding it upright you could tell there was something engraved on the inside of the band of the ring. Initials. Eight sets of them, for all of you. 

“What is that for?” you asked in nothing but a whisper. You needed them to be a little more clear. 

“Another promise of a future.” Taehyung said, his serious, deep baritone voice making shivers break on your skin. 

“When we go... we want to know you'll be here.” Jin said, and you knew he meant the military, that part was obvious enough. 

“We want you forever.” Junkook said and that was clarification enough, but your mind still didn’t want to wrap itself around what was going on. 

“And building a house together isn't enough?” you giggled, pink cheeks, a racing heart, still holding onto the ring with both hands, scared you might drop it. 

“Nah, we wanna marry you.” Yoongi was blunt as always. 

You gasped, looking at him, whose lips were pulled up in one corner. 

“See, even when we do have a speech prepared, it doesn't work–” Jimin spoke in pout, bickering with Yoongi’s talent to drop the news on you whenever they tried to do something like this. 

“What is happening–” your eyes were wide, palms sweating, air barely making it inside your lungs. 

“Are we still getting on our knees?” Hoseok scratched the back of his neck. 

“Weren't the Fireworks supposed to be going off–” Taehyung looked behind them, up to the sky. 

“For fucks sake–” Namjoon cursed under his breath. 

Seokjin rolled his eyes and told you: “You might wanna give us an answer, sweetheart, or we could be here all night–”

“I don't remember you asking anything–” was the first thing that came to mind. 

“Marry–”

“Will–”

“Do you–”

“Yoongi, marry me–” Taehyung said and all heads turned his way. “What?! It's catchy!”

“Not now!” Namjoon bickered with a clenched jaw.  

“Oh, dear god, yes, now stop this suffering.” you waved a hand in the air and all seven of them shut up at once. 

This was exactly like them. It felt so familiar you could cry, the chaos, the bickering, the laughs. But you didn’t need speeches, didn’t need fireworks, didn’t need them getting on their knees. A promise was enough. 

A promise that they would come back to you, no matter what. A promise that, no matter how complicated things got, no matter how many of you were in this relationship, how unique it was, how uncertain your future was, you’d make it work. 

The only thing that mattered was that you fell into their lives and yours was flipped upside down in every single way possible. You weren’t the same person you were when you met them over a year ago, you didn’t think either of them were the same either, but that was okay. 

You loved the seven of them, equally, inexplicably, irrationally, unconditionally. And because of whatever glitch in the universe that allowed this to happen, they loved you just as much. 

Little did you know they were your future.

T H E E N D

Here we are. It’s finally time for my ending ment. 

It feels like just last week I started posting this story; when in fact, it’s been over ten months. That’s longer than a human takes to be made! And this story does feel like a child to me and it will always be my baby. 

I feel like so much has changed since I started working on this story, since I started posting it. I’m a completely different person now, it seems, and I’m in such a better place than I was when I first started to write ldyk. I will always be so very thankful for everything this story did for me, for all of the friends that it gave me. 

I’m so so so fucking thankful to all of you who made it through with me and finally reached the finale! I know it was a lot, with many ups and downs and twists and cliffhangers. I’ll never forget this journey and how we laughed together, cried together, loved together. 

I think that LDYK comes out as a way to love the boys, wanting to feel closer to them, be a part of their lives in a way. It was about sharing these feelings, concerns and excitements as ARMY. Our hopes for the future and for the boys’ happiness, no matter what it looks like. 

In more than one way, this feels very bittersweet to me. I’m happy with the result and how this story ended, and as an author I love this work. I spent so many months working on this piece, dedicating myself to it so that you could all enjoy what’s inside my brain, too. So we could all have a safe space to run to when life got too hard. So I am happy to have seen it through and that you all made it here with me. 

But it also makes me sad because I never connected with so many of you like I have through this story, and I know I’ll miss you all. It will definitely feel weird not to see Baby and the boys every week anymore, it will be weird to tell you other stories that aren’t about these characters. 

But, hey, I don’t think I could ever really walk away from LDYK, so we’ll meet again in future drabbles. We all want to see Baby pregnant and the boys being dads, right? I’m already working on them! So at least we have that to look forward to. 

As for what’s coming next… It’s a lot. I have a lot of stories in store for you guys, and I hope you’ll stick around to read them all. 

 Let this story be here for you whenever you need it again. And if you made it here, thank you, from the bottom of my heart. 💜

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